It took Mark a moment to realize what he had just heard Theresa say. Then it took him yet another moment to understand the meaning of it, and then the implications. He opened his mouth to reply, closed it again, stared at her, looked at Mona (wearing one of her mischievous smiles again), then back at Theresa. He had no idea on how to react to that.
Eventually, he decided on just a "What?"
"I think the right thing to say would be 'Hello, Theresa'", Mona laughed, "wouldn't it?"
"Come on, it's a lot to process," Theresa defended Mark. "Give him a minute, mom."
That final little word was too much. "Wait, 'mom'?" he gasped. "Why are you calling Mona your mom?"
In the background, Stefanie chortled. "Because she is her mom, knucklehead," she said. "Theresa is the daughter you gave Mona."
"But how can- That's impossible!" Mark looked at both women before him again, one tall and willowy, one of average height and buxom. They had quite different facial features, and one wouldn't really have considered them related. Of course, what really made Stefanie's statement impossible was the fact that both of them seemed to be around the same age - if anything, Theresa looked a year or two older than Mona.
"It's still true," Mona replied, her voice suddenly much softer as she positioned herself at Theresa's side and put an arm around her daughter's waist. "This is our child, Mark. Yours and mine. And I'd say she came out beautifully, don't you think?"
Theresa huddled closer to her mother while still keeping her eyes fixed on Mark. "I think he's starting to get it," she said. "Give him another minute to realize how much I look like him."
Raising an eyebrow, Mark took a closer look at her. Could this woman really be his daughter? She did have pitch-black curly hair like he did, and her eyes shared the same medium-brown tone with his. And then there was the overall shape of her face too, and the delicate-looking cheekbones that showed in most of Mark's pictures from junior high. She was right, there was quite a bit of similarity, but still...
"Okay, explain it," Mark said, deciding that he was done with figuring things out when he could just be asking. "How is it possible that you're my daughter with Mona when we only just met a few weeks ago?"
"You already know that we're born only four weeks after we're conceived," Theresa answered. "We grow super-fast in our mothers' bellies. But we don't stop with that when we're born. We're able to fully mature within another four, sometimes eight weeks, and that only ends when we reach the physical age of nineteen."
Mark stared at her in disbelief. "So you're saying... you're pretty much just a few weeks old?"
Shaking her head, Theresa chuckled lightly. "No, you got that wrong. I'm nineteen years old. I just went through those nineteen years a whole lot faster than most people you know."
"I suppose you're now wondering how this is biologically possible," Naira joined the conversation. You're wondering where all that body mass comes from in just a few weeks, and how on earth she has learned to walk and talk and form coherent sentences in that short time. Am I interpreting that expression on your face correctly?"
"Pretty much," Mark said. "I see a woman here who definitely looks like she could be nineteen but who's telling me she was conceived just this summer. That's- Well, it's a lot to get my head around."
Naira nodded. "It's the most amazing part of our biology. Until maturity, our metabolisms are capable of working over two hundred times faster than those of 'normal' people." She drew quotation marks with her fingers upon the word 'normal'. "So we really go through those full nineteen years of physical development, only at a highly accelerated rate."
That still left more than a few questions open, Mark thought. "But how would a tiny baby even eat enough to grow so quickly?" he asked. "And how would changing diapers even work at that speed?"
"A valid question," Naira answered, giving scathing looks to the other women who were unanimously giggling among themselves now. "But the answer revolves less about the how and more about the what of eating. You see, the key to it all is in what we feed our baby girls. Now, in your experience, what do babies have for breakfast, lunch and dinner?"
"Well, milk," Mark said. "Mother's milk- Wait! So what you're saying is that the mother's milk you're producing-"
Naira nodded. "Bingo. That's what makes our baby girls grow so well. It contains a stupendous amount of energy, plus all nutrients, vitamins and other essentials one needs to become healthy and strong. Our bodies are able to convert almost all of it into mass - there's very little waste. And to answer your earlier question, until we're fully mature, we need to have our diapers changed - or go to the toilet - about sixty or eighty times altogether. In around four to eight weeks of real-time."
Things were slowly coming together in Mark's mind, though something seemed to be odd about the explanation he had just heard, and when it finally hit him, his eyes grew wide. "But for that all to work- Are you saying you're breastfeeding your daughters until they're nineteen?!"
"Yeah, that's pretty weird," Mona chimed in. "You're a teenager, you have all these interesting new things going on with your body, you'd really like to try it all out, and then it's dinnertime and it's off to mommy's breast." She looked over to Tanya. "No offense, mom."
"None taken," Tanya smiled, "and yeah, I can relate to that. I felt pretty much the same when I was still growing up. But that's the way it is."
Mark shook his head. "Breastfeeding teenagers," he mused. "I really have a hard time imagining that. I can't even picture you as teenagers-"
To his surprise, Mona giggled. "You never drew the connection, did you?" she asked.
"What connection?"
"You saw me once when I was fourteen or so," she said. "The first time you came to the safehouse. I was just outside stretching my legs, and you gave me the scare of a lifetime when you suddenly showed up there."
Mark's eyes widened. "So that girl out there was you!" he said. "Fuck! Sure, now that you're mentioning it, that was totally you! How could I not have seen that?"
Naira nodded. "You see, our breast milk is pretty much the biggest of our secrets", she said. "It's why we're able to develop so quickly - and not just physically. It also stimulates our mental growth, and that's the part that's truly amazing: Our breast milk contains all the knowledge we need to start out into this world."
Now she had entirely lost Mark. "Uh, what?" he blinked at her. "What do you mean, your breast milk 'contains knowledge'?"
"I'm speaking in layman's terms, of course," Naira explained, "but it's not that far from the scientific truth. Our breast milk contains substances that form the brain in a certain way. It creates specific connections between brain cells that result in knowledge of all sorts. Some of it is very broad knowledge - pretty much a general high-school-level education. There's also all sorts of basics in there - how to walk, how to jump, more than a few sexual techniques..." She chuckled a little. "But there's also everything about us - who we are, what we are, where we come from and what our goals in this world are. Once we mature, we can pretty much start the lives of young adults without having to spend any further time on school. Though some of us choose to advance beyond that and get a degree."
"Wow." Mark was impressed. "So you're saying one could pretty much learn all there is to know about you - and a few things beyond that - by just drinking enough of your breast milk?"
Naira shook her head. "It's not that simple," she said. "Our breast milk is set up to fully develop the brain of a newborn, not fill the brain of an adult with information. If you're already grown up, there are already billions and billions of connections inside your head, and the substances in our breast milk begin to overwrite them. As you can imagine, that has a few heavy side effects. Hallucinations. Headaches. Fever. Your brain resists the changes, quite violently. It's not a pleasant experience. And it changes some of your biochemistry permanently." She made a short pause. "You already know that, though."
Mark's eyes widened. "You're saying- The shake?! The shake was your breast milk?"
"It wasn't MY breast milk in particular," Naira smiled, "or rather not just my breast milk. Stephanie, Tanya, Mona and I, um, mixed it together for you."
"There was a little bit from each of us in there," Stephanie grinned.
That revelation was just a bit too much for Mark. With a heavy sigh, he sat back down on the bed. "Breast milk," he said. "I passed out from drinking breast milk."
With a sympathetic look on her face, Tanya walked over to him and sat down by his side, putting her hand on his leg. "Don't worry," she said, "as far as we know, that happens to everybody who doesn't share our biology. Normal bodies cannot bear the speed the milk tells them to run at. Oh, and by the way, it wasn't the first time you had our breast milk."
"It wasn't?" Mark looked at her, then his eyes slowly moved down her naked chest. "Oh, I get it! The first time we met, right? You told me not to touch you and just let me do whatever you wanted to me, but I managed to get a quick suck from your titty-"
"And you got a few drops of my breast milk into your mouth," she nodded, "since I had just started breastfeeding Mona at that time. It wasn't enough to get your metabolism into overdrive, but the stuff that alters your brain seems to have worked anyway. At least that's the only way you could have learned of the existence of the safehouse."
Naira approached them again, turning towards Mark. "To continue with our biology lesson," she said, "let me tell you what happens to us when we grow up without our special mother's milk."