Only gradually did it dawn on me that this cow-girl standing before me wanted to harvest and market my spunk as the active ingredient to be used in a snack for other monster-girls for profit. The more I thought about it, the more I had my misgivings.
But instead of immediately backing out, I thought maybe I could passive aggressively derail her plan by poking holes in it as she began to spell out every detail for me.
Yet despite her apparent slow and disorganized nature, it was becoming clear that Rinaata had carefully thought through nearly every detail for this venture of hers as she pulled a manila folder overflowing with documents from one of the kitchen drawers. The cow-girl had changed into a fairly conservative ensemble of a tight white t-shirt under a pair of denim overalls since I got her out of the shower.
“Are you hungry?” she asks me suddenly.
In my haste to procrastinate and try in vain to blow off this appointment altogether, I had actually forgotten to stop for some breakfast on my way over here.
“I guess I could use a bite to eat.” I say
Before sitting down, she gets small plate from the countertop and sets it down on the table.
“Are you familiar with Tiger’s butter fudge?”
“N…not really.” I reply.
She taps the small plate loaded down with fudge squares that looked like a swirl of chocolate and peanut butter that she set down next to the contract.
“It’s really pretty straightforward- just fudge blended with peanut butter and….Viola!” she said as she helped herself to one of the squares. “Go ahead and try one…”
“That’s all it is, right?”
She was pretty gracious for putting up with my outwardly dumb questions, but considering the nature of the ‘work’ she was offering, I figured it was wise to be prudent.
“Yes….don’t worry.” Rinaata said. “This contains zero percent spirit energy.”
I nibbled at the corner of the fudge square before taking a larger bite.
“It’s good. You make this yourself?”
“Ah…no…” she said bashfully. “I got these at a little shop out in Helmsley Falls. Wouldn’t…wouldn’t it be nice to do that for a living, though? Just make these yummy treats and have people visit your shop all day, happy that they got a chance to try something new…”
I smiled as I listened to her daydream.
“I’m sorry……listen to me ramble…” she said, blushing a little.
“It’s nice to have something to shoot for like that.” I say to her. “I mean- in some ways, isn’t that what you’re trying to do with this?” I tap my finger on the stack of papers that no doubt includes the contract she has drawn up for me.
“Well…..yes. I figure I need to start somewhere.” Rinaata said before she began thumbing through the paperwork. “But what I’ll be working on is similar to the tiger’s butter fudge- at least in concept. Your manna will be added to some white chocolate, which in turn will be blended with milk chocolate.”
Getting down to business, she hands me a about six sheets of paper that I need to sign and initial.
“This is just saying that we’ve discussed your marital status and whether or not you take any prescription drugs.” she says as she points where I should sign and initial.
She then produces a more substantial set of documents that are stapled together.
“OK…” the Holstaur says, composing herself. “This is the contract stating what’s expected of you. Basically you’re here today to provide raw materiel for a sample batch. If it works out, you can expect to make this much as a base rate.” she points to a number that while not necessarily lavish, could certainly keep the lights on at my duplex well into the spring. Pointing to a much smaller number, she continues. “If things don’t work out, this amount would be for your time this afternoon”. It’s enough for a steak dinner and a full tank of gas.
Rinaata thumbed through a few more pages. “Now, again, if the materiel you provided does meet or exceed expectations, I’ll need you over here at least three times a week. Maybe five times the closer we get to Valentine’s Day. You will also earn a percentage from net sales, although that will be capped at 10%. Still- the more you produce and the more I can sell, the more money that’s in both of our pockets.”
“Right…” I say absently.
“Now…Gunnar. Do you smoke?”
“No. Not anymore.”
“Good. No smoking or recreational drug use for the duration of the contract. No travelling, since I may need you here on short notice….and…..” the buxom holstaur’s composed façade was crumbling as she struggled to find the words to say next.
“Yes…?” I asked as I put the Syracuse mug to my lips and took another pull of sweet lukewarm coffee.
“N-no sexual intercourse…..”
If Rinaata had said anything immediately after that, it was lost in a sudden gale of coughing from me as the coffee went down the wrong pipe. Setting the mug down, I placed the crook of my elbow over my mouth in a vain attempt to salvage some of my dignity as the coughing tapered off.
“Gunnar….are you all right?” the Holstaur asks.
“Yeah….yeah….” I say absently as I try regaining my composure.
“I…I know that’s kind of an intrusive thing to ask, but it’s something that would affect the final product.”
“The scent and taste of a man’s spirit energy is altered when he…..he….gets intimate with a mamono.” she explains.
“Well now….this is turning out to be pretty educational.” I almost scoff, except I had actually been pretty agnostic about the prospect of carnal encounters with mamono. “What about with another human?”
“I…I think it’s not as drastic, but there’s still some more subtle changes.”
“I see…” Truth be told, I’m fairly certain the last time I got laid, BB King was still alive.
“Other than the extraction process, this isn’t really much different then making sweets for a school bake sale.” she nibbled on another one of the fudge squares.
I cringed slightly at the prospect of sweets infused with my cum being made available at PTA fundraisers.
“Wait….” I begin to say. “I mean- It’s a sound concept you have, but how is this even remotely cool with the Health Department?”
“Oh…that….?” she asks. “They were one of the first people I talked to. The guy from the county health services said as long as it’s clearly labelled that it’s not meant for human consumption, there should be no problem.”
To emphasize this, she holds up a label that I assume is going to go on to the finished product. It reads UNFIT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION in tall black letters. From a business, consumer and regulatory standpoint, I know it makes sense to affix such labels to the finished product, but I can’t help but take it personally since it’s my jizz that they’re deeming unfit for human consumption.
“Wow- looks like you really covered your bases, Rinaata.” I marvel quietly. “You sure you’re not a Danuki in a holstaur suit?”
“Nah….but one of my friends works for an arbiter and I ran some of this by her. Why? Would you like me to paint black rings on my tail…”
“Oh…no thank you.” I say after hissing through clenched teeth. “Pretty sure I’m out of work ’cause our company was the target of a Danuki’s hostile takeover bid….”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Not your fault…” I tell the holstaur. “But thanks anyways…”
Rinaata says nothing for a moment as she shuffles the papers into a tidy-looking stack.
“Well- we’re less than two months away from Valentine’s Day. So if this trial batch works out, I’ll need you to be available for at least five days a week.”
“Understood.” I sigh.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
“We can get started right away, Jamie…”
“I…I’m sorry- I was thinking of someone else for a moment, Gunnar.”
“So….” I ask nervously. “How exactly does this work? Should I use a specimen jar or an onahole or something?”
“Onahole? What’s that?” she asks.
I’m sorry I even brought it up now, but there’s no point in changing the topic as I hesitantly describe the basic functions of an onahole to an increasingly horrified Holstaur. It was not a proud moment for me in a day that had already seen me approach or surpass new personal lows. I wasn’t sure if her distaste stemmed from some moral objection of the fact that from her point of view it encouraged the waste of perfectly good jizz.
Doing little to conceal her shock and disgust, Rinaata asks “Do you actually HAVE one of those?”
“Then why did you even bring it up!?”
“I don’t know! I mean…how else are you planning on……you know?” I ask defensively.
“I….I brought all this scented hand lotion…..” she begins to say.
“Hang on- Why would I need the lotion to be scented?”
“It’s not exactly for you…” the Holstaur trails off.
“What are you-” the sentence dies on my lips before it’s fully formed.
The blushing Holstaur is now making a semi-circle with her cupped hand and moving it back and forth quickly. I had my answer.
“I-it’s not quite like the sperm bank. I’ll be the one who extracts your spirit energy. These hands…”
“So…ah….where does all this candy-making magic happen?” I ask hesitantly. I suppose these are things I should’ve asked about before basically signing away my body to a buxom holstaur, but there were worse things in the world than being on the receiving end of a hand-job from an amazingly-endowed cow-girl.
“This way.” she said, getting up and urging me to follow her.
The room looked welcoming at first. Bright colors and somewhat outdated wallpaper conveyed warmth. But one thing looked out of place- the chair in the middle of the room.
“Please- remove your clothes.” Rinaata said in a firm but quiet tone.
Considering my stupid questions and hesitancy earlier, I almost immediately kick off my boots and begin to step out of my clothes, stripping down to my boxers before hanging my jacket on a hook along the wall while folding up my trousers and shirt.
“If you could go ahead and have a seat here.” she instructed.
I do as she says, noticing that the chair has some sort of restraints on the arm rests.
“And if you could go ahead and put your wrists here.” Rinnata continued, indicating the restraints I had just noticed.
“What is this?” I ask nervously.
“Oh Gunnar- these are restraints that are supposed to keep you from thrashing around during the…..” she trailed off, trying to find the right word. “…procedure.”
“Jesus. Did you get this at some insane asylum’s garage sale? I-is it really necessary to bind my wrists and ankles?”
“Doing so would ensure minimal loss and spillage during the…..extraction process”
“Right now, I’m wondering if you’re going to pull off a rubber mask a-la Scooby Doo and it turns out you’ve been a Dark Elf this whole time.”
“Would you rather it turns out I’m Old Man Jenkins in a glowing suit of armor scaring off those meddling kids?” she teased.
I couldn’t say anything at the moment, and I’m pretty sure my mouth was agape. After all the effort she put into not only her business model, but also the contract and regulatory requirements behind it, why was I so surprised when she hit me with a Scooby Doo reference?
Almost as if she read my mind, she spoke up.
“What? Scooby Doo re-runs were about the only thing on TV after school when I was still living in Steuben county. “
Huge tits were one thing….but irreverent and obscure pop culture references? Be still my beating heart. The flippant Scooby Doo homage was enough for me to let my guard down. Despite- or perhaps because of the fact that I essentially signed my body over to one of the most docile species of monster girls, I abruptly find myself quite aroused. Suddenly I didn’t feel so tense as she tightened the two straps around my wrists.
“That’s not too tight, is it?”
“No. I…I think it’s okay….” I said, halfheartedly testing the restraints.
“Do you require any stimulation?” she asked shyly before looking up at my boxers as she secured my ankles. “Oh my- I suppose not…” the Holstaur giggled.
It was time to get down to business.51375 Views