The morning air in the barn was thick with anticipation. Kenta knelt in the hay, the empty wooden bucket positioned perfectly between Emily’s plush, dimpled thighs. She sat completely bare, her gargantuan breasts swollen and aching with the night’s heavy accumulation of milk.
Behind them, sitting quietly in the shadows of the stall, Lara watched. Her golden eyes were wide, her thick chocolate thighs pressed tightly together as she observed the terrifying, deeply erotic dynamic between the human and his monster.
Kenta didn't even look at Lara. His entire focus was on the pale, heavily breathing cowgirl kneeling before him.
He raised his hands, his [Novice Milking Hands] skill already humming warmly in his fingertips. He bypassed her left breast entirely, reaching out to firmly cup the massive, sagging weight of her right breast with both hands.
"Ahhn!" Emily gasped, her back arching instantly as his magical, arousing touch sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core.
"Shh. Listen to me, Emily," Kenta murmured, his voice dropping into a dark, vibrating purr that practically oozed dominance. He kneaded the soft, doughy flesh, pushing the heavy fat upward. "Feel the pressure of my hands on your flesh. Let it build. Gather all that sweet milk into one place for your Master. Spill it for me... like a good, obedient little cow."
Emily’s doe eyes rolled back slightly, her chest heaving against his grip. "Y-yes, Master! I feel it... I'm your good cow... ahhh!"
Kenta’s grip tightened. He slid his hands down the slope of her breast, isolating the swollen mammary glands, and squeezed with a brutal, demanding force.
Pshhhh—SPLAT!
A massive, incredibly thick stream of warm white milk erupted from her stiff pink nipple, blasting into the bottom of the wooden bucket. The rich, intoxicating scent of sweet vanilla cream instantly filled the stall.
Kenta smirked, watching the frothy liquid pool. "Nice," he praised, his voice thick with dark satisfaction. "That's exactly like a good cow. Empty yourself for me, slut."
"Moooo-ahhh! Master!" Emily moaned loudly, the degrading, filthy praise short-circuiting her brain. Her cow tail thrashed against the hay, a slick string of drool slipping from her parted lips.
Kenta didn't give her a moment to recover. He shifted his weight, his left hand reaching over to claim her untouched, desperately leaking left breast. He began to massage it slowly, his thumb drawing agonizingly slow circles around her broad, puffy areola.
"Now this one," Kenta commanded, his voice a hypnotic whisper against her fuzzy cow ear. "Feel it, Emily. Feel the pressure and the build-up right behind your nipple. It aches, doesn't it? It needs to be drained."
"It aches! Please!" Emily sobbed, thrusting her massive chest forward into his palm. "Squeeze it, Master! Milk me!"
"Begging like a perfect little pet," Kenta chuckled darkly.
He clamped his hand down and squeezed hard.
Pshhh—SPLAT!
Another heavy, sustained spray of hot milk shot directly into the bucket. Emily shrieked, arching her back so violently her spine bowed, completely surrendering to the overwhelming, biological euphoria of being milked.
With both breasts now primed and flowing, Kenta settled into a ruthless, mechanical rhythm. Squeeze the right. Squeeze the left. His hands moved with a blur of motion, his palms slick with the wet, sticky overflow of her milk.
Squelch! Splat! Squelch! Splat!
"Give it all to me," Kenta demanded, spanking the side of her plush thigh to keep her focused. "Every single drop belongs to me. You exist to fill this bucket, Emily. Nothing else."
"Yes! Ahh! I exist for Master! Ahhn! Milk me dry!" Emily chanted blindly, her body convulsing with every pull.
The barn echoed with the wet, sloppy sounds of the harvest and her ragged, high-pitched moans. But as the minutes ticked by, the heavy, high-pressure sprays slowly began to thin out. The thick streams reduced to spurts, and then, much faster than the morning before, they trickled down to a few slow, heavy drips.
Emily slumped forward, completely drained. Her massive breasts had deflated, resting softly against Kenta’s forearms. She was panting heavily, covered in sweat.
"Master... that's it..." Emily breathed deeply, her eyes fluttering shut. "I'm empty..."
Kenta slowly pulled his milk-coated hands away. The adrenaline of the dominant session faded, replaced by cold, calculating business sense. He looked down at the wooden bucket.
His dark brows furrowed.
The bucket was barely a quarter full. It was significantly less than what she had produced yesterday.
"It was really good, Emily," Kenta said, his voice losing some of its dark purr, replaced by genuine confusion. "But... this is so much less than what you produced yesterday. I thought you would have given more today. What's the reason?"
Emily slowly opened her eyes, looking down at the sparsely filled bucket. The absolute devotion and high of the milking session vanished, replaced instantly by crushing guilt. Her cow ears drooped flat against her head, and her tail tucked between her legs.
"I... I don't know, Master," Emily whispered, her lower lip trembling. She looked up at him, her doe eyes welling with sad, shiny tears. She felt like a failure. A cow who couldn't produce milk was worthless. "I am... I am so sorry, Master. I am not able to produce that much milk today. I tried, I swear..."
Seeing her look so utterly devastated tugged at something in Kenta's chest. He let out a soft sigh, reaching out to gently wipe a tear from her flushed cheek.
"Nah, it's okay, Emily," Kenta reassured her, softening his tone. "You don't have to cry. You gave me what you had. I think... I think you just need more food. You've been living on old grain and scraps. I'll buy you proper feed from the village today. That will fix it."
"Excuse me... Master."
The soft, hesitant, and incredibly melodic voice came from the shadows of the stall.
Kenta and Emily both turned their heads.
Lara was shifting out of the hay, crawling forward on her hands and knees. Her dark, chocolate skin glistened in the morning light. The frayed piece of fabric she wore as a top had slipped dangerously low during her sleep, exposing the deep, heavy tops of her gargantuan breasts and the stark contrast of her dark pink areolas.
"What happened, Lara?" Kenta asked, his eyes immediately dropping to her massive, heaving cleavage.
Lara stopped just a few feet away, her cow tail swishing nervously. She looked at the half-empty bucket, then at Emily’s exhausted face, and finally up at Kenta’s dark, commanding eyes.
"If... if you don't have a problem with it," Lara stammered, her face flushing a deep, beautiful crimson, "I... I can help you."
"Help me?" Kenta repeated, his pulse suddenly spiking.
Lara nodded, her cow ears twitching. She sat up slightly, thrusting her massive chest forward. The sheer weight of her breasts strained the fabric to its absolute limit.
"Emily is tired," Lara explained, her voice growing a fraction more confident as her biological instincts took over. "And... you helped me. You let me stay here for the night when I was scared and lost. In the herd... it's our duty to help our sisters and our protectors. It's our rule."
She swallowed hard, her golden eyes locking onto Kenta's milk-stained hands.
"So," Lara whispered, a wet, heavy heat pooling between her thick thighs as she offered herself to the dominant human, "you can milk me. You can have my milk... if you don't have any problem with it."