I’m doing this post to let others know what it’ll be on here. So here are the rules
1. I’ll post anything I’m into or find interesting, fiction or otherwise.
2. I’ll be avoiding anything too hardcore, especially pictures, cause I feel uncomfortable looking at that kind of stuff. Hints are ok but nothing explicit
3. This is just to reblog what I like, I won’t be communicating with anyone as I’m not comfortable talking to people online if I don’t know them in real life.
4. This blog will contain anything and everything I find interesting across multiple platforms and continuities, including any fan art, so no hard limits except for pictures. Pictures will not show anything hard core.
5. I am, in fact, older than 18. Anyone younger then 18 or doesn’t state that they are of age either writhing a pinned post like this or their bio/intro then I’ll block. Simple as that.
"2... and 1, up, up, up." My hypnotist said, shaking me gently as I slowly woke from trance. I sucked in a deep breath as my eyes fluttered open, trying to get my bearings after going so deep.
My hypnotist caught my gaze and smiled, and I grinned blearily back, unable to resist the spark of happiness I felt at pleasing him. "How are you feeling?" He asked, gently stroking my face.
Good, I wanted to say. Really, really good.
But it was like my mouth wasn't connected to my body. "Cock." I said, then frowned in confusion. I tried again. "Cock. Cock. Cock!"
My hypnotist grinned even as my body betrayed me. "Oh dear," he said in false concern, even as his eyes took on a puckish twinkle. "It seems as though you only have one thing on your mind."
I shook my head emphatically, but it was no use, my tongue wouldn't cooperate, my lips could only form one work. "Cock." I protested.
"You aren't only thinking of cock?" He asked, delighting in his own performed confusion.
I nodded. "Cock."
He raised a brow. "So you are only thinking about cock?"
I huffed in frustration as he laughed at my predicament, and crossed my arms over my naked breasts (when had I taken my clothes off? The thought floats out of my head almost as soon as it arrives. It doesn't matter anyway.).
I shook my head again and glared at him. My hypnotist's expression become contemplative, and goosebumps suddenly pebbled my skin under his scrutiny.
"Actually," he said, voice taking on that deep, lulling tone that had taken me under hundreds of times. "The more you say the word 'cock' the less you'll be able to think of anything else until 'cock' is the only thing left in your empty little brain." My mouth fell open a little as my mind was caught in the undertow of his words. "Now, my silly little bimbo, what are you thinking about right now?"
"Cock," I replied, unthinkingly, then snapped my mouth shut when I realized my mistake. The damage had already been done. As soon as the word left my mouth, my mind felt a little tingly, my thoughts came a little slower, and my mouth watered as a brief image of getting on my knees and sucking Master's cock played behind my eyes. Oh god. That sounded so nice. So fun. So hot. My eyes fluttered.
"Good girl," he said with a grin. "But I can see you still thinking. Why don't I take care of that, hmm?" He cupped my face, turning my gaze up to meet his. "What does my good girl want to think about?"
I tried to hold back, to stop myself, but all of a sudden his thumb was gliding over my lips, parting them, and it was like once my mouth was open I couldn't help but speak. "Cock."
The effect was even more powerful the second time. A sweet, pink cotton candy cloud was creeping into my brain and I could practically feel my thoughts being overtaken, one by one. It felt so good. For a moment I couldn't remember why I was even fighting this. My gaze went a little hazy as I stared up into his eyes, and a leaned into his touch. I wanted to please him. I wanted his cock. In my mouth, in my pussy, in my ass. Wherever he wanted to put it. I needed it so badly.
I didn't even realize my mouth had fallen even further open, until he put his thumb against my tongue and I instinctively sealed my lips around it, sucking it gently.
Master frowned in mock concern as he took his finger back and watched as I moved to chase it. "Are you sure, sweetheart? You don't have anything else you want to think about? No smart girl thoughts you want to share with me?"
I blinked, a little confused as my fuzzy brain tied to catch up. "Cock?"
My expression smoothed out as the pink cloud took more of my mind. I couldn't remember why I was confused earlier. I couldn't remember why I was fighting this. It was hard to think bad thoughts when my head felt this nice and empty. I giggled.
"Cock," I said again because it felt soooo good to say. I was so silly. Cock was the best word there was. I didn't need any other words. This one let me ask for the one thing I really wanted. "Cock, cock, cock."
Master put my hands on my tits and it turned out, cock was even more fun to say while I bounced them. "Cock, cock, cock, cock, cock!"
Master laughed, and that made me feel so good that I giggled too. "That's it, princess, no more thoughts. You're a simple, little toy. You have simple, little thoughts."
I nodded in vapid agreement, as he guided me gently to my knees. When he brought his cock out, my entire world narrowed until all I saw, all I cared about, all I wanted was his cock. I stuck out my tongue and leaned foward, eyes wide and pleading.
"Hkock?" I asked, nearly choking on the word with my tongue out and drooling. I rested my head on his thigh and looked up at him with all the adoration and desperation I felt. "Hkock?"
When he slid his cock past my lips, my brain emptied completely. No thoughts at all. But that was okay. All that needed to be in my head was cock. And Master was taking care of that.
Her hands tremble as she plugs the device into her TV's HDMI port. Per the instructions on the card, she sits so that her face is as close to the screen as she can get it, and she turns the volume as high as it will go. Then she presses the HDMI-1 button on her remote.
As the input switches over, the sudden sensory overload is startling. Colors flash on the screen, shapes and patterns move and reform, never lingering long enough for her eyes to focus on. A chorus of electronic tones drifts in and out of harmony. She lets her eyes go out of focus, allows the sounds to overwhelm her, and counts slowly back from ten, as instructed.
She gropes for the remote, unable to wrench her eyes away from the screen. When she finds it, she presses the power button by feel, and the TV clicks off. She blinks, afterimages flashing on her retinas. She feels like she's coming out of a dream.
She notices the light coming through the kitchen window. When did it get so dark? She glances at her phone clock.
She's been staring at the screen for almost four hours.
Session 2:
The screen is different this time. The sounds too. Not that she can point to any one shape or pattern or sound that's changed; it's just looks different. She wonders if it'll be like that every time.
She waits longer this time. The card said that after the initial calibration, she could stay as long as she pleased. And it does please her. The feeling that staring at the screen gives her is like static in her brain, a heavy-duty pipe brush scrubbing out the cobwebs between her ears. When she stops, it's only because she's beginning to get hungry.
As reality fades back in around her, she checks the stopwatch she started on her phone right before turning the TV on. Six hours and forty-seven minutes. No wonder she's hungry. She's just wondering what she's going to order for dinner when she notice an icon on her home screen that wasn't there before: an app for a file-hosting service, some alternative to dropbox. She taps the icon, which takes her to a shared folder with a single video in it. In the video she's naked on her bed, pounding away at herself with her favorite dildo. Sometimes she changes position. Sometimes she takes a break to shove it down her throat. Her eyes are vacant. A steady stream of drool trickles down her chin.
according to the app, there is 1 other person viewing this video.
Session 3:
She's vaguely aware this time, because she's paying attention, of odd sensations in her body as she stares at the screen. A brief impression of a hand on the back of her neck. A tightness in her scalp, like her hair being pulled. A warm soreness in her thighs, like she's been working out. More than anything, she turns off the TV this time because she can't wait any longer to see what's happened.
The most obvious difference is that unlike before she turned the TV on, she's now almost completely naked. Her skirt is bunched up around her waist. Her panties around one ankle. Her shirt and bra nowhere to be found. She notices a warmth on her thigh, and realizes there's cum dripping out of her. Her body aches all over, but it's a good, sleepy kind of ache, like she's just finished running a marathon. She checks her phone. Almost 12 hours.
She gets a notification that someone has liked her instagram story. She hasn't touched instagram in months. She opens the app, and begins to tap through her own story, watching a just-the-highlights rundown of the night she's just had. In this one she's sucking a strangers cock on the subway. In that one she's staring up at the camera, begging whoever's holding her phone to fuck her in the ass (he obliges). There are several memorable clips of her being used by no less than five men at once, apparently on the counter of some bar somewhere.
In the most recent one, she's in her own apartment, taking a selfie as someone out-of-frame ejaculates on her face. As she watches this, she reaches up and touches her own face.
She sits in front of the TV, turning the remote in her hands. She thought the fear would ease with time, but it's just moved from her chest to her stomach, metastasizing into a lingering dread. Her life is falling apart, and every time she does this, things get worse. She has to stop. She's going to stop.
Compulsively, she rubs her clit through her underwear. Her fingers come away wet.
Just one more time.
Each time she does it, she retains more of her senses. As the patterns swirl on the screen, a tremendous calm washes over her. Her thoughts still, the knot in her stomach loosens, and the tension she hadn't noticed herself carrying melts away. Her eyelids flutter. She gets to her feet.
She'd expected it to feel like a hand pulling her puppet strings. She'd imagined herself trapped in her own head, powerless to do anything but watch as someone else piloted her body for a while. But there's no dissociation; if anything she feels more at home in her body than usual. She doesn't wonder why her feet are taking her to the bedroom. She doesn't wonder anything. Her mind is pleasantly blank. Her body will do as it does.
In her closet are several outfits she did not buy. She takes off the ratty t-shirt she's been wearing, and lets her underwear drop to the floor. She dresses herself in a thigh-length skirt and a sleeveless button-down blouse. It turned her on, when she first found them, to think about the stranger whose specific turn-ons these clothes are meant to stimulate. Now, she doesn't think at all.
She doesn't put any underwear on before she leaves. The wetness running down her thigh is pleasantly cool in the Summer breeze.
She's laying on some sort of padded table, cushioned but firm, like a hospital bed. She doesn't remember how she got here, nor does she think to care. Her head is propped on a pillow, and her fingers are buried in her cunt. She's possessed by a frenzied desperation for more, more, to feel pleasure and give pleasure and be an object of pleasure. She forces a realistic silicone cock down her throat, grunting and moaning with its every thrust. Though there's no physical pleasure, the act is just as urgent, just as satisfying as her slick fingers on her dripping pussy lips. She bucks her hips into her own hand, and the motion causes her tits bounce bounce. in the darkness beyond her table, indistinct figures pleasure themselves as they watch.
She's on her knees in a grassy field. Thinking back on it later, she'll recognize it as a public park a few blocks from her apartment. Right now, it's just here. The distinction between one place and the next doesn't matter. What matters is the breeze on her nipples, the moonlight glistening on the tip of the cock, and the long string of saliva and cum that trails between it and her lips as it withdraws. Before the string has broken, the next cock takes its place. Firm hands grasp her waist, lifting her to her feet, still bent over to accept the violation now taking place in her throat. A pair of fingers test her pussy, and they must find it acceptably wet, because a moment later another cock is pushing inside her, filling her to the brim. By the soreness, it isn't the first cock of the night.
She's standing in very fancy apartment. The far wall is covered in windows, through which she can see the tops of other skyscrapers. The sun is not yet rising, but the sky has gone from black to dark blue. The room is dominated by a large and luxurious bed, and in the bed is a very, very old man. He appears to be sleeping.
She crawls into bed next to him. The sheets are silky smooth. She presses herself against his body; his skin is soft and warm, like a dog's ear. As she nestles her head in the crook of his shoulder, he murmurs something in his sleep. Beneath the covers, she slips her hand down the front of his silken boxers and begins to stroke his cock with tender fingers. He moans softly, pets her hair with a limp hand. She kisses his neck, nibbles his ear, feels him swell against her palm. She plants a row of kisses across his chest, down his stomach, around his thighs and groin, working by touch and by the little light that makes its way through the covers. She licks a long, teasing trail from his balls to his throbbing, purple tip. He groans, grasps her head through the covers, and whispers a name that doesn't belong to her. No name belongs to her. Not here.
He pushes himself inside her. Gray hairs tickle the tip of her nose.
She comes back to herself piece by piece. Her feet are sore. The air conditioner is set too low to be naked. She remembers with surprise that she loves the color blue. As her eyes begins to focus, she becomes aware that she's been holding a load of cum in her mouth for what feels like at least an hour; her tongue is getting sore. She relaxes her jaw and allows herself to swallow.
The taste lingers.
Session 23
One more time. Just one more time. This is the last one.
The words sound hollow even in her own head. If yesterday wasn't the last one, nor the day before, she has no reason to expect this one will be any different. The hand that reaches for the remote barely feels like her own, and she wonders, not for the first time, whether she's under its spell already. It's getting harder and harder to tell the difference between the real her and the other her. It's getting harder and harder to convince herself of the distinction.
She's in a dark, cold place, on a floor that feels like concrete. She doesn't remember the TV screen, the colors, the sounds. Her shoulders are bent back at an uncomfortable angle, her wrists sore; they're underneath her, tied behind her back. Her chin is caked with drying saliva, and tears pool in her eyes. There is man standing over her. His foot is on her throat.
It must be a skill-intensive balancing act; he doesn't press hard enough to crush her airway, nor even to cut off her breathing very much, but it's intensely clear that he could do either if he chose to. She can feel clear as day, in her face and chest and throat and face, that she's been sobbing; the kind of heaving, moaning, wailing sobs that shake the body. But the only emotion she experiences is a cool, quiet serenity. She begs for mercy in a language she doesn't understand. A woman in a black dress laughs, and kicks her in the ribs.
She comes to on the floor. Her body aches all over, though less than she might have expected, from the memory fragments she can piece together. She's been rubbed down with some kind of lotion, and cloth-wrapped ice packs have been taped over some of the more intense bruises. She hears running water, and stumbles to the bathroom to investigate. There she finds a hot bath and an empty bag of Epsom salt. She sinks into the water without bothering to turn off the faucet. It will drain when it gets too full.
Never again, she tells herself. This was a wake up call. We can never do this again. To prove it to herself, she makes a concerted effort not to touch herself even a little bit.
She falls asleep with a shampoo bottle still inside her.
Session 180
The corn flakes have been sitting in the refrigerator for almost 24 hours. She left them there yesterday, when she got too impatient to finish eating. She wouldn't even bother with them now—let whoever holds her strings take care of it—but she's found it takes longer to go under on an empty stomach. So she shovels the cold, lightly-sweetened paste into her mouth, barely bothering to chew.
Any thought of ever stopping died months ago. It feels good not to be fooling herself anymore; so much less anxiety inducing just to give in, accept that this is her life. She always knew she was meant for this, before she even knew it was possible.
Her skin prickles with anticipation. Her leg bounces so much it shakes the table. She gets antsy when she's awake too long. She's begun to resent the time she has to spend with her own thoughts, her own mind. She wishes she could stay as her other self, her true self, all the time, but she realized months ago that her true self can't sleep. The Pattern has to relinquish control every 16 hours or so, so she can get a full night's rest. Which isn't a problem, because she comes out of each session completely exhausted.
She leaves the bowl unwashed on the kitchen table. Her thighs are already wet, and her fingers flick across her clit unconsciously before she's even sat down. The TV starts on its own—it's been doing that lately—and in seconds she's nothing but noise in the back of her own head. She gets to her feet.
The next thing she knows she's cinching the belt on a silk robe. The apartment has changed; where moments before it was was a mess of dirty dishes and discarded clothes, it could now be mistaken for something out of a furniture catalog. Everything is neat, tidy, and in its place. There is a letter on the table. She does not remember writing it, but she knows what it says. It's addressed to her landlord, and attached is a check for the full amount of her rent through the end of her lease.
She records a video message to her sister, saying that she's met someone overseas, that they're getting married, that they probably won't see each other again. She genuinely believes it as she says it: the giddy, lovesick look in her eyes would convince even the most hardened cynic. By the time she's hit send, she doesn't remember what she was talking about. She leaves the phone on the table.
The last thing she does is unplug the device from the back of the TV. Her robe doesn't have pockets, so she carries it with her, out the door, down the steps, where she climbs in the back of the large black van parked on the street. She gives the device to the man, who hands it through a small window to the driver. she sits on the bench seat and belts herself in. The car starts to move. She turns herself off.
The car is still moving, but the man is no longer seated. There are no windows, so it's difficult to gauge how much time has passed, but she doesn't especially care. He has undone her seat belt and opened her robe, and he now begins to penetrate her, grunting as he does so. She doesn't react to his presence, other than gaze at him blankly. She feels no compulsion to do anything but sit still, so that is what she does.
"You better not be soiling the merchandise back there," says the voice of the driver. "They don't have her scheduled for a cleaning."
"Relax," says the man with another thrust. "I'll finish down her throat, no one will care."
He makes good on his promise.
The man is gone. The van is gone. The robe is gone. She is walking naked down a long hallway, lined on either side with doors. Each door is equipped with a screen that covers most of its surface, and each screen plays a looping video of a different person. This one is an older woman with wide hips and a soft stomach. This one is a man built like an action figure. That one is a tiny woman with ears that stick out from her head. And this one belongs to her.
The video of her must have been taken recently, because it still wears the robe, slung loosely over her shoulders in a way that just barely obscures her nipples. As she watches, it turns in a lazy half-circle, teases the robe up to reveal the bottom of her ass, and winks at her over its shoulder.
The Pattern withdraws its fingers from her mind like a teasing lover. She's in an unfamiliar place, a black, bare room the size of a closet, sitting in a reclining chair. Her field of view is dominated by a massive screen that takes up the entirety of the wall in front of her, and curves around to the side walls, too. The tail end of the pattern dances across it before fading to black.
She tries to shift in her seat, and only then notices that there's something in her cunt. By the dim glow of the darkened screen, she can see a thick dildo protruding from the chair, stretching her pussy lips as it penetrates her. As she watches, it begins slowly to push in. It fills her right to the edge of too full, and then retracts again.
The screen fades back up to a simple menu:
MOVIES
TV
PORN
MUSIC
PODCASTS
MY MEDIA
It reminds her of the built-in media player you'd find on an airplane. After glancing around for a remote, she finds a set of buttons built into her armrest. She navigates to MY MEDIA, and opens it to find a long list of videos with names like "21-45-02-07-2026".
Her clit is already throbbing as she opens the first file, because she can tell by the thumbnail exactly what it's going to be. The enormous screen fills with a video of herself, her other self, in a scene she doesn't remember. The dildo picks up speed of its own volition as she watches security footage of her own writhing body being used by three men at once in dilapidated car park. She wets a finger in her own juices, and begins to toy with her clit.
Yes, my dear. Step onto the mass of writhing tentacles. No, they will not hurt you; yes, I know they are gross looking and slimy. But you do wish to prove your love to me, don’t you? There you go, Good girl.
You can feel them lap at your feet, can’t you? How soft yet firmly they brush all around, wrapping around your toes, nipping at your heels? How they strain upwards to caress as far up as your shin? I know it’s a strange sensation, dear. You just have to trust me.
Have you practiced your flexibility as I commanded?... Babe, answer the question. No, I don’t care that the extra long tentacle is sliding up your thigh hungrily, gripping inside you desperately trying to get between your legs… Well, if you don’t want it violating your pussy, I suggest answering my question quickly. No, don’t slap at it, you’ll only make it want to hold you down even more. That’s right, baby, just let it touch you. Doesn’t it feel good lapping at your thighs like that?
Oh, so have been practicing. Tell me about the splits-no, dear, hold your moan in. Yes, its lapping against your pussy lips. No, I did not give you permission to move away from it, STAY. I don’t care if it wriggles up inside you and pokes your g-spot, You will not leave your spot. Spit it out, I can’t make out what youre saying through your whimpers... Oh, you can? Well then dear, do the splits on the floor. Yes, on the tentacles. Don’t worry, they’ll wrap around your legs and anchor you still… so what if the tentacle is thickening inside your pussy, no, No, quit your moaning, it’ll only excite it further, take you more aggressively. And we don’t want that yet.
Now, the splits. Now.
Oh my god, baby, you are being so fucking sexy for me right now. Mmmm. Lower. Yes, you’re lowering yourself on the tentacle inside you. Yes, its unbearably deep, I know, I don’t care. You WILL reach the floor with your splits… So? Then fucking cum all over the floor, I don’t care.
You’re so close youre so close youre so close… Oh my god, you actually did it. I told you I believed in you- yes, you can quit your pathetic whimpering and start moaning like the pathetic bitch you are… yes I said it would make it worse, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Moan.
Don’t you feel the endless mass of tentacles reaching out and wrapping tightly around your legs and thighs? Or all those little tentacles stretching your wet little pussy wide so they can force their way in to join the big tentacle? Can’t you feel them prod inside your walls and poke your gspot repeatedly? Yes, dear, scream all you want. Moan while you can, it looks like that tentacle is prodding around for your lips. Oh, are you cumming already? Let it all out, dear, you’ve got a lot more coming your way... Oops, looks like you planted your hands on the floor and now they’ve wrapped their tentacles around them too. Looks like you’re held hostage to its pleasure… It’s so overwhelming, isn’t it? Such a good girl for me….
Welp, I have to go, so… nope, don’t whine, baby girl. I said Don't whine... nope, looks like that big tentacle is clogging your pretty little mouth just fine now. You’ll enjoy your helpless pleasure, I promise! Try not to cum your entire guts out…
Your eyes finally open. You’re in a barn, a classic barn with red wooden walls. You’re placed on a few stacks of hay. Your eyes adjust to the light coming in from the big open doors. You try to move- you can’t. Your hands are tied behind your back with thick rope, digging into the skin of your wrists. You helplessly fight your restraints. And that’s when you see him.
Dallas, the farmer walks through the open doors, right up to you. He’s tall, brunette and carries a mischievous smirk on his face. His big forearms show as his red flannel sleeves are rolled up. He grabs your face, rough calloused fingers digging into your jaw and cheeks. You’re forced to look at him.
“Good. You’re awake.”
You instinctively try to pull back. After all, you don’t know where you are or who he is. He notices your useless fighting, and lets out a low chuckle.
“Don’t fight it sugar. Soon you’ll grow to love it here.”
His voice is nice and deep, carrying a thick southern accent. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a vial with some creamy white liquid in it. He holds it up proudly as he speaks again.
“You’d fit into the herd so nicely.”
Herd? All kinds of alarmbells start to ring in your head. You don’t know where the fuck you are. And who he is. All you remember is that you were walking home from the club. And now you’re here. You lift your chin, calling him every curse under the sun, helplessly trying to escape.
His fingers dig deeper into your jaw as he pushes your mouth open with his thumb. He pours the liquid inside and forces your jaw shut until you swallow.
You try to fight, scream, open your mouth, anything. But nothing helps. Eventually you’re forced to swallow. It tastes sweet and creamy, like delicious fresh milk.
Dallas pats your head, shaking his head disappointedly
“I told you not to fight it sugar. I’m just helping you be what you were meant to be. You were lying to yourself by keeping up this 9-5 worklife like you weren’t built to be a hucow.” Another chuckle escapes his lips as he watches you closely.
Dallas pulls out a bell, nice and shiny and gold. Your eyes follow it as he places it around your neck. It makes sounds with every movement. As your eyes darted down, you notice you’re in a cowprint bikini. He’d for sure put you in that when you were unconscious.
“All better now. You should start feeling better soon.”
You don’t know what he meant by better, but your whole body started tingling. You feel a certain tightness in your chest, and your heartbeat races.
Your breasts started swelling, ballooning through at least 3 cup sizes in a minute. They feel heavy, bouncing slightly with every movement. Your nipples harden, creamy white beads forming at the peaks of your nipples. Soft moans escape your lips as the sensation is overbearing. All the while Dallas watches you with a smirk, his pants growing tighter as he’s watching you.
You barely notice in the haze of the feeling that Dallas came closer, petting your head, whispering words of praise in your ear.
“C’mon sugar, doesn’t that just feel so good? Mmm I bet it does.”
He moves in front of you, hands squeezing your large udders as milk flows out. He attaches his mouth to the left one, squeezing the other.
You lose yourself in pleasure, the release arousing you more than anything ever has. Dallas’ right hand lets go of your udder, gliding lower as he moves the fabric of your panties to the side. His hands slide in between your thick folds, drawing circles over your clit, hungrily sucking at your tit still.
He continues this until you cum, loudly as your eyes roll back and your back arches onto his fingers.
You moan again, this time lower, resembling more of a moo. You think your brain is growing dumber. Did that liquid shrink your brain too? Well fuck what do you care. You’re right at place here. Just like he said. Where did you even come from anyways?
As you’ve finished, Dallas pats your head again, proudly.
“I told you you were a perfect fit sugar. Just you wait until I breed you. Such a perfect little cow. Moo for me sugar.”
And you do. Because it feels good. It feels good being docile. You’re such a silly cow.
You are a mtf reader who just started working on a farm. The old farmer is very appreciative to have a youngster helping him, that he doesn't have the stamina for it. The main job he gives you is to tend to his four cows. You're surprised to find that it's not four cows but four cow hybrids. They are looking forward to getting milked and fucked by you, the old farmer doesn't have the stamina for it.
Milking Four Good Cows (mtf!reader x 4 fem!cow!hybrids)
Summary: You take a job on an old farmer's land, expecting four ordinary cows. What you find instead are four desperate, milk-swollen cow hybrids… You become their new personal milker.
This request has inspired me to write another part with the same old farmer but this time with a reader who has to milk bullmen. I will work on it and update soon. Also, I see your requests and love them but they are a lot, so I need some time to get to them. Be patient please! Thank you!
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･
You weren't sure what you expected when you answered the ad.
"Help wanted. Farm work. Room and board included. Must be able to lift 50lbs and not scare easy."
The old farmer who met you at the gate had a grizzled beard, a wide-brimmed hat stained with sweat and years, and eyes that looked like they'd seen every season and then some. He shook your hand with a grip that was surprisingly firm for a man who admitted, right there on the porch, that his back had given out on him three winters ago.
"You're a godsend," he rasped, nodding toward the weathered red barn at the edge of the property. "Got four girls in there. Best milk you've ever tasted. But they're... particular."
You raised an eyebrow. "Particular how?"
He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. "You'll see."
The first morning, you walked into that barn with a bucket in one hand and a stool in the other, ready for the simple rhythm of squatting, pulling, and filling. What you found instead stopped you dead in your barn boots.
Bessie was the first to greet you. She had the wide, kind brown eyes of a Jersey cow, but her body—fuck—her body was something else entirely. Thick thighs that tapered into muscled calves and actual hooves, but from the waist up? A woman. A voluptuous woman with tanned skin, a swaying udder that hung heavy between her legs, and the most enormous, swollen tits you'd ever seen. Her nipples were the size of the end of your thumb, dark pink, glistening.
"New hand," she mooed, it came out as a moo-ugh, a throaty, needy sound.
Behind her, Buttercup, white with black spots scattered across her flanks and her full, round ass, pressed her udder against the wooden gate of her stall, her slit already wet as she shifted her weight.
Clover had auburn hair that fell in messy waves past her shoulders and teats that dripped white droplets onto the concrete floor in steady drips.
Daisy, the youngest, had freckles across her nose and her udder was so taut and distended that you could see the veins bulging under the skin.
You swallowed hard. "The farmer didn't mention you were... hybrids."
Bessie huffed. "The old man can't do it anymore. His cock stays soft. His hands shake. We've been aching, farmhand. Days and days of filling up with milk with no one to pull it out of us. We hate the machines, you see. Damn things, they lower the quality of our good milk." She shifted, and fuck, you heard the sound of her slick folds squelching together. "You look like you've got the stamina."
Your cock had already started to thicken in your jeans. You set down the bucket.
"Show me what you need."
Bessie didn't wait. She turned around in her stall, presenting herself to you like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her tail swished to one side, and there it was: her cunt, swollen and pink, dripping strings of translucent wetness down her inner thighs. Above it, her udder—four teats, each one engorged, the skin shiny and tight.
"Start with the milk," she said, looking back at you over her shoulder, her brown eyes half-lidded. "It hurts."
You dropped to your knees behind her. The stool was forgotten. Your hands—rough from a single morning of hauling hay—reached out and closed around the two front teats. They were hot. Hotter than you expected.
Bessie groaned. You squeezed, pulled, and a thick stream of white milk shot out, splattering against the metal bucket with a pssshhh. She jerked her hips back, almost knocking you over.
"Again," she gasped.
You worked her teats like you'd been doing it your whole life. Left hand, right hand, alternating tugs, getting into a rhythm. Squeeze-pull-squeeze-pull. The milk came faster, hissing into the bucket, filling it past the first quart mark. Bessie's whole body trembled. Her cunt clenched around nothing, pulsing with each tug.
"More," she whined. "Not just the milk. The other thing. The thing the old man can't do anymore."
You didn't need a diagram. You unzipped your jeans. Your cock sprang out—hard, veined, the head flushed and glistening with pre-cum. Bessie's nostrils flared.
"Oh, thank the pasture," she mooed. "That's a real one."
You lined yourself up behind her. Her cunt was soaking. You could see her inner lips—puffy, dark pink, wrinkled like rose petals —peeking out from her outer folds. The smell of her hit you: warm milk, earth, and a sharp, musky sweetness that made your balls tighten.
You pushed in.
Schlick.
Her cunt swallowed you whole. No resistance. Just wet, tight, clenching heat that pulled you deeper inch by inch until your hips slapped against her udder.
"FUCK," she bellowed, stomping one hoof against the concrete. "Yes, yes, yes—move, farmhand, move!"
You grabbed her wide hips and fucked her. Hard. Deep. The way she needed. Your balls slapped against her with each thrust, wet and heavy. Bessie was groaning, her head thrown back, her tits bouncing with each impact.
"Milk me," she sobbed. "Milk my cunt, not just my teats—both—I need—"
You reached around with one hand and grabbed a teat. You tugged it as you thrust. Milk sprayed sideways, hitting the wall. Bessie screamed.
"There—right there—I'm coming—"
She clamped down on your cock like a fist. Her cunt pulsed and gripped and milked you without you even moving. You felt your own release building, a heavy ache in your balls that spread up through your shaft.
You came inside her with a grunt. Hot ropes of cum flooded her pussy, mixed with her own slick, dripping out around your still-hard cock. Bessie sagged against the stall gate, panting.
"More," she whispered. "There are three more of us."
You pulled out of Bessie with a wet pop, your cock still slick with her milk-cum mix. She collapsed onto the hay, her udder now half-empty, her eyes blissed-out and glassy.
Buttercup was already pushing her way out of her stall, her white-and-black spotted body quivering.
"My turn," she mooed. "I'm so full, farmhand. Look."
She turned around and presented. Her teats were darker than Bessie's, almost purple at the tips, and her cunt... gods, her cunt was so needy, her inner lips sticking to each other with the sheer thickness of her arousal. A single drop of milk dangled from her left nipple, shimmering in the barn's dim light.
She bent over a trough, presenting herself at a better angle. You didn't hesitate.
You knelt and lathered her teats with your mouth first, because she whined when you touched her with dry hands. Your lips closed around her right teat, and you sucked.
Glug, glug, glug.
Milk filled your mouth. It was warm, creamy, slightly sweet—nothing like grocery store milk. You swallowed and kept sucking, your tongue circling the engorged nipple, feeling it harden further against your palate. Buttercup moaned, her whole body shivering.
"Fingers," she begged. "While you suck. Put your fingers in my cunt."
You shoved two fingers inside her without pulling your mouth off her teat. She was soaking, slick and hot and clenching around your knuckles. You pumped them in and out, crooking them slightly to hit that rough spot inside her, and she wailed.
"Yes, yes, fuck—I'm gushing—"
Her pussy spasmed, and a rush of clear, sweet-smelling fluid poured out of her, splashing onto your wrist and the bucket below. You sucked harder on her teat, pulling a long, hissing stream of milk that filled the bucket to the brim in seconds.
Buttercup came again, her walls pulsing around your fingers, her thighs shaking.
You stood up, your cock aching, and pushed into her from behind. She was so wet that you slid in to the hilt. No resistance. Just tight, milking walls that pulled at you with every thrust.
"Harder," she mooed. "The old man couldn't—harder—break my cunt open, farmhand, I need it—"
You grabbed her hips and slammed into her, your balls smacking against her folds, the wet clap-clap-clap of your fucking echoed off the rafters. Her udder swung beneath her, teats dripping milk onto the hay.
You came inside her too. A second load, just as heavy, just as hot, filling her pussy until it dribbled down her inner thigh.
Clover was next. She didn't wait for you to get on your knees. She pushed you down onto a bale of hay, straddled your face, and lowered her cunt onto your mouth.
"Lick," she pleaded. "Lick my slit. I've been waiting so long."
You did. You happily lapped at her folds, tasting milk and sweat and that musky sweetness that was all her. Her clit was a hard, swollen nub the size of a grape and it bobbed against your tongue. You sucked it between your lips and she cried out, her thighs clamping around your head.
While you ate her out, you also milked her. Hands pulling at her teats, squeezing thick streams of milk directly into the bucket. She came screaming 'farmhand' , her pussy pulsing against your tongue, her juices flooding your mouth.
You flipped her over onto her side in the hay and plunged into her, deep and unrelenting, her tits bouncing with each thrust, her mouth open in a silent O of pleasure. Her cunt overflowed, dribbling milk and cum mixed into a creamy mess that pooled under her tail.
Daisy was the last.
The youngest. The tightest. She was shy at first, her freckled cheeks flushed, hiding her udder like she was embarrassed. But her need won out.
"Please," she whispered. "I've never—the old man couldn't—I'm still untouched down there."
You were gentle with her.
You massaged her teats one by one, rolling the engorged nipples between your thumb and forefinger until milk spurted out in thin, hissing arcs. She moaned, her head falling back. You milked each teat until they were soft and empty, her udder deflated and satisfied.
Then you spread her legs. Her cunt was tighter, pinker, the inner lips barely peeking out. She was wet, though. Soaking. Her arousal had dampened the hay beneath her.
You pushed inside her slowly.
"Yes," she gasped. "More—I want—all of it—"
You gave her all of it. Every inch. You fucked her slow at first, then faster, then more roughly, your balls slapping against her, her moos turning into shrieks of pleasure.
She came violently, her cunt milking your cock in hard, clenching spasms that pulled your own orgasm out of you. You came deep inside her, filling her pussy with your seed.
When you finally stood up, your jeans around your ankles, your chest sheened with sweat and milk, you looked around the barn.
Four stalls. Four satisfied, spent cow hybrids, each one sprawled in the hay, their udders drained, their cunts gaping and dripping.
The buckets—all six of them—were full to the brim with milk. Some had overflowed, but there was enough to fill the farmer's fridge twice over.
The old man appeared in the doorway, leaning on his cane. He looked at the buckets. At the pleased cows. Four girls, purring and twitching in their hay. Then at you.
"Hired," he said. "Permanently. And triple your pay."
You wiped a streak of milk from your chin and grinned.
very dubious consent, mimic chest, breeding (no pregnancy), gangbang, choking/breathplay, double vaginal penetration
i know i shouldn’t have tried to open the chest in the darkest corner of the dungeon, but then again, i don’t have much experience in adventuring. i should have known what was going to happen even before the tentacles and wide mouth emerged and i was reeled in by the appendages.
there is no chance for me to reach for my sword; one of the mimic’s tentacles yanks it out of my hand, and it clatters onto the floor. after disarming me, the creature strips me of my gear with surprising ease, unbuckling my armour and tearing my clothes to shreds. i want to cover myself up with my hands but there is no way for me to do so; the mimic’s appendages hold my limbs apart, and all resistance is futile.
enraged, i try to command the mimic to let me go, but soon my words turn into begging. the creature begins to stroke my body all over, and though i loathe to admit it, its warm tentacles actually feel quite nice. my legs are spread by them, too, allowing the mimic’s long, thick, drooly tongue to lick at my plush thighs. it doesn’t reach for my pussy yet, though, only teases my thighs and the sensitive skin around my cunt. the tentacles are holding me like a perverted lover in their embrace, and they waste no time in starting to tease me. they seem to know exactly where to touch me as they rub and flick my nipples, two thinner tentacles coming to wrap around my tits so that they stick out even more. the other appendages stroke and massage me in a way that feels luxurious, and they wrap around my midsection and throat to keep me in place. one of them pushes its way into my mouth so i can’t even call for help, and when it starts to thrust, it nearly makes my eyes water.
all of the groping and petting has my body betraying itself. the mimic’s tongue finds my clit, and i can’t stop my hips from bucking into that exquisite wetness and warmth when the tongue lavishes the most delicate part of me with attention. it alternates between broad, slow strokes up and down my labia and tiny flicks on my clit that make me go wild, occasionally dipping the tip into my clenching hole. it doesn’t take long for me to whimper and squeal in ecstasy as i cum for the creature. i am not given the chance to recover when two smaller tentacles start pushing into my drenched hole, stretching it while a much thicker appendage rubs gently against my clit like a cock would. then, once i’m loose enough, the thick one pushes in, making me gasp around the tentacle that’s still in my mouth. it starts fucking me gently, giving me a chance to get used to being so full.
the tongue is back on my clit, making it throb and twitch. i feel overstimulated already yet i am given no mercy when the one in my cunt starts moving properly, pushing against my g-spot. the pace it sets is determined but still on the slower side, firmly stroking my insides. my eyes are already rolling back into my skull as the mimic has its way with me. i would never admit it out loud, but it feels sinfully good, and the tongue’s clever flicks and the steady thrusting make me finish again. to my horror, the mimic’s not done yet, and it keeps going, fucking into me much more brutally than last time. the tentacle plunges in and out of my hole with a speed that would make me scream if it wasn't for the fact that i’m still gagged. i’m being fucked into submission, and the mind-melting pleasure almost makes me forget why i wanted to be free in the first place.
the tentacle in my mouth slips out and moves to tease my nipples. my own tongue is lolling out, and i’m drooling on my tits. i am glad no one’s here to see me like this; as humiliating as it is, i am fully submitting to the will of the mimic. it keeps absolutely railing me, and whenever i think that it’s finally done with me, it starts again. soon, i lose count of how many times i’ve cum, and each orgasm chips away a part of my sanity until i’m nothing but a helpless fuckdoll for the creature.
the pleasure is too much, and no matter how desperately i beg, the creature doesn’t stop. just when i’m starting to lose hope, i hear footsteps and chatter from around the corner. i don’t want to be seen in such a state, but since i am immobilised, it doesn’t look like i have much choice. please don’t notice me…! i plead in my mind. a group of five adventurers appear, and in the light of their torches, there’s no way i could stay hidden from their eyes. all of them are much bigger and more muscular than me; there’s a pale, tall, curvy elf, a bronze-scaled dragonborn with broad shoulders and thighs that could crush skulls, a fur-covered creature with canine features who’s clearly a werewolf, a half-orc whose soft features contrast the sharp tusks protruding from their mouth, and a strange-looking creature that might be a tiefling if it wasn’t for the fact that they have antlers for horns and way too many eyes.
they look shocked at first but then their expressions become… exhilarated? my face burns with humiliation when they approach, and my compromising position seems to amuse them, and they chuckle amongst themselves.
“now what have we got here? a little wanderer who got trapped by a big bad mimic?” the dragonborn laughs, his voice rich and deep.
“poor thing! they look so well-fucked,” the elf giggles.
“they must’ve been here for quite a while,” the mutated tiefling estimates, and their voice is softer than expected.
“make it stop– oh, please– i can’t take it anymore! make it release me please!” i beg but my voice is breathy and i can’t control the moans that flow from my mouth, not making my pleading very believable.
“oh, but we want to have a little bit of fun with you first – it’s not every day that we run into such a delectable-looking thing in such a precarious situation,” the werewolf growls.
“no–! it’s way too much already! just get me free!” i squeak.
“shh, it’s alright! we won’t take long, i promise,” the tiefling soothes me.
i open my mouth to protest, but the mimic thrusts against that sweet spot inside of me just so, and another orgasm tears through me, which sends a ripple of laughter through the group. the mimic still doesn’t let up, and the overstimulation makes it impossible for me to speak.
the adventurers take great interest in both of my fucked-out body and the mimic that seems to welcome the company amicably. i accept that they aren’t here to rescue me; instead, they admire the tentacles that are still fucking and torturing me. two of them – the elven lady and the dragonborn man – declare that they want a turn with the mimic, and they start stroking the creature, coaxing it to release me. eventually, the creature decides to indulge them, letting me go and directing its attention to the newcomers.
i end up on the floor with a thudding noise, and the half-orc and the tiefling haul me up to my feet. my knees wobble, and all the muscles in my body have turned into useless jelly, but they hold me securely. the latter one hooks a finger under my chin, tilting my head up until our eyes meet. he coos at me and promises that they will take good care of me, their precious beginner adventurer that got trapped in the mimic’s maw. the half-orc behind me grinds their clothed bulge against my bare ass, and i’m pressed tightly against the two of them. i have nowhere to go as they hold me so tightly, and the tiefling leans down to suck on my tongue that still hangs out of my mouth. when they let me go of the debauched kiss, a thin strand of saliva still connects us.
the werewolf decides to join us, grabbing me gently by my chin and kissing me; the fur of his face tickles me as he licks into my mouth. the tiefling mutant gropes my tits roughly and pulls on my nipples while the half-orc smacks them, enjoying the way that the flesh jiggles. i’m still making out with the werewolf when the tiefling decides to inspect my pussy, easily slipping their fingers in and pressing against my tormented g-spot.
“looks like you could still take a cock or two in here,” they snicker. “you’re so wonderfully open for us.”
“i couldn’t agree more,” the half-orc cackles into my ear before licking and nibbling at my lobe. “but you’d do well getting on your knees for us first.”
i mewl at their words, exhausted, yet still i can feel a heat in my core that needs to be satisfied.
all three of them – the werewolf, the tiefling and the half-orc – disrobe quickly, armour and clothes ending up on the floor wherever they happen to land, and i catch a glimpse of their beautiful, strong bodies: all of them are scarred yet gorgeous, and the tiefling and half-orc have curved, girthy cocks that are already half-hard, and the werewolf has a sizable clit that’s erect like a cock would be. from the corner of my eye i can see the elf and the dragonborn, and when i turn to look, i can see that the dragonborn is kneeling like i soon will be, and a tentacle is buried in his ass as he sucks eagerly on the elf’s cock. she’s groaning in pleasure, and she’s so deep in the dragonborn’s mouth that her balls are pressed against the dragonborn’s snout. the long tongue of the mimic is licking the elf’s nipples, and she grips the dragonborn’s horns tightly as she starts fucking his mouth in earnest.
“they’ll get to play with you too, precious, but right now i want all of your attention on us,” the half-orc instructs me, pressing a quick kiss on my forehead before placing their hands on my shoulders and pressing down, urging me to get on the ground. i sink onto my knees in front of three adventurers, and they surround me. they look even bigger and more threatening from this angle, and something in me finds it delightful that they could do whatever they want with me. the werewolf steps in front of me, pressing his swollen clit against my mouth, and instinctively i begin suckling and licking at it. my hands find the tiefling and half-orc’s cocks, and my hands are pretty much moving on their own when i jerk them off. they make me switch between sucking and rubbing their throbbing parts, and i am forced to stay there until the werewolf has squirted all over my chin and the half-orc and the tiefling’s dicks are rock hard and ready to be buried in a warm, wet cunt.
i’m suddenly hoisted up with my back pressed against the half-orc’s chest with his hands hooked under my arms, and my legs are being held up by the tiefling. the tiefling guides the half-orc’s cock into my weeping pussy.
“i can’t be fucked again! i’ve cum too much, please let me go! i don’t want it–” i protest weakly.
“if you don’t like it, then why is your cunt still dripping wet and your nipples so stiff, hm?” the werewolf inquires meanly. he pinches my nipples until they’re aching and bright red.
“i think you like it way more than you want to admit,” the half-orc teases me, “we’ll see if that changes once i knot this pretty pussy.”
that threat makes my eyes go wide, but i can’t say anything because the werewolf pushes his fingers into my mouth to silence me.
“i think i could fit in that stretched-out hole, too,” the tiefling smirks, and without paying attention to my panicked whimpers, they slap their cock on my clit a few times just to humiliate me before pushing into me. it’s frightening how easily it fits into me, even though the half-orc is basically massive. i’ve never felt this full in my life, and i fear i might break entirely. they fuck me mercilessly, and i’m nothing but a ragdoll for them to toy with. the werewolf takes his fingers out of my mouth and manages to reach my clit, rubbing it in small, quick circles, and the stimulation combined with the rough fucking makes me finish again. they praise me for my sluttiness, telling me how good my cunt feels, kissing my mouth and cheeks.
they cum almost simultaneously, spilling their seed deep into me. the tiefling pulls out to make space for the half-orc’s cock, and they carefully lower me onto the ground. their knot swells just like they said it would, and it stretches me nearly as much as the two cocks did. the half-orc whispers sweet nothings into my ear and bites marks into my skin while we wait for the knot to go down. they grin at me and tell me how well i’ve taken their cock, how much they like breeding me. when it’s finally possible for us to part, the elf and the dragonborn are already waiting for their turn to use me, and the tiefling and the werewolf have moved on to pleasing the mimic: the tiefling gets his cock licked by the mimic’s mouth while the werewolf enjoys its tentacles.
i’m lying on the ground, too exhausted to move but the dragonborn manhandles me onto my knees. the elf picks up a belt that was lying on the floor, wrapping it around my throat and pulling me closer to their face. the dragonborn plunges his ridged cock into me immediately, and the elf presses her mouth against mine, and her cold lips feel soothing against my mouth that’s been so ruthlessly used. i whine into their mouth, when she breaks the kiss, i could swear i can see a pair of fangs, but i can’t focus on it for too long because the dragonborn’s cock is making me moan incoherently as it fills me to the brim. he pushes my upper body down against the floor so my ass sticks out, and he gives it a resounding slap before drilling his cock into me over and over again. he gives me a thorough spanking while his cock makes me see stars. the elf gives me another yank of the makeshift leash, and i come face to face with her dripping cock. she grabs me by my hair and shoves her cock into my mouth, facefucking me until tears are running down my cheeks. she pinches my nose shut as she fills my mouth and throat with her cum, and i fear i might faint but she lets go just before i pass out.
the rest of the encounter is a blur; i’m used every way imaginable, my cunt squelching as they make me take it. they continue taking turns with the mimic and me so that everyone gets to have a go at my gaping hole or my eager mouth; i didn’t notice it at first, but the tiefling has a cunt too, and they find great pleasure in sitting on my face and using my mouth until i’m close to suffocating. the half-orc breeds my hole again, and their cum floods my cunt. the werewolf has me fingering his hole as i suck on his clit, his juices drenching my face again. the elf flips me onto my stomach and mounts me while i flail around helplessly, but she pin me to the ground. my legs shake as i’m trapped under the body that’s twice my size. as i tremble through another orgasm, she bites my neck without warning, and i can feel her fangs in my flesh – i realise too late that she’s a vampire and she’s satisfying her hunger in more ways than one. i’m grateful, though, that she knows when to pull away without taking too much of my blood. i think i’m slipping in and out of consciousness as i do my best to please all of them and get rewarded with orgasms that drive me further into insanity.
by the end of it, i’m so fucked out that i couldn’t resist if i tried, my mind’s completely blank as i lay on the floor in a puddle of cum, drool and my own slick. the half-orc picks me up and throws me over their shoulder and carries me out of the dungeon, and before blacking out, the last thing i feel is his hand patting my ass gently and the cum running down my legs.
Oh wow…. Gosh.l.. uhm… wowowow. Gosh it would be awful if i was a cute little magical girl and the evil evil monster filled me with eggs like this… *squeezes thighs*
The Rite of Pleasure had come. Maria could hardly believe how good it felt, first being pleasured by her sisters, and then fucked and cummed in by one of the guards. And then, the demons came to fuck her. By the end her pussy was drooling with cum
