Eternal Hills

Few men reach maturity. Each falls at one stage or another, or flees there in a moment of teenage rage. Thus, men are extremely rare, and they are surrounded by women who say: Look how good you have it here, among real breasts, you don't need enormous breasts the size of the world, who knows what's there

"An abyss lies beneath the blessings of breasts and womb...unto the desire of the eternal hills" - The structure of the universe from the Big Bang: In the shape of a breast (Source)

There are only two breasts with an infinite abyss between them. And I'm afraid to go down. There are people who simply run down as if there's no tomorrow, and no one knows what happened to them. Maybe they were right and reached paradise. There are people who establish their homes on the slope and are careful all their lives not to take one wrong step and fall, until one day they put a foot wrong and roll down there. Mothers educate their sons from infancy never to go down there under any circumstances, and few men reach maturity. Each falls at one stage or another, or flees there in a moment of teenage rage.

Therefore, men are extremely rare, and they are surrounded by women who say: Look how good you have it here, among real breasts, you don't need enormous breasts the size of the world, who knows what's there, and you can never encompass them, or grasp them. And they push their nipples into the men's mouths, which only increases the men's addiction to breasts. Each such man is surrounded by dozens of small breasts, instead of one large breast, and sometimes it seems that when he throws himself into the abyss, it's because he wants to escape from the hundreds of pairs of breasts chasing him, more than he wants to fall into the large breast.

They say that on the other breast live people exactly like us, but different. And there are those who have already begun the great project, spanning many generations, to ascend to the infinitely high peak, where they say there is the only place where you can lay your head and simply rest, the nipple. People who climb all their lives - you see them coming up from the abyss below, sometimes they stop at your place to drink, and they tell you about the destiny, about how you can really progress and ascend, that this breast isn't for nothing, and one day someone will reach the peak, and who knows if someone hasn't already reached it, and they continue upwards and upwards, waving goodbye to you in a slightly condescending manner.

And one day after many years, or sometimes just a few weeks, you see them rolling down into the abyss, passing by you with a scream that grows distant within seconds, erasing the distance of years, and they never return. You won't meet them climbing back up. Because maybe what they found in the dark hell between the breasts was better than paradise. Or perhaps it was so bad that there's no point in coming back.