Manticore milk

Bruce’s phone started ringing while he was doing his least favourite part of managing a farm, finances. In this day and age most communications were done through electronic mail but the farmer kept a professional tone in case it was a business call. “Stephord farm, how may I help you?”

“Uhh, boss?”

Bruce sighed, it was Red. The kid had been given the responsibility of keeping an eye on the dairy farm for barely a week and he already had a problem. “Something got stuck in the milking rack.”

“Something? Something what? Talk sense to me boy.”

“Just a minute- … She says she’s a manticore.”

“This better be some goddang prank, kid. Because if-“

“How am I supposed to know wut it is. There’s a damn monster stuck in the machine and she’s talking all sorts of foul language. Jus’ tell me what to do.” Red started to get rather agitated.

“Don’t do anything, I’ll be right there.”

Bruce tore himself away from the paperwork, the fact that this was merely a postponement of the chore bearing heavy on his heart.

In twenty short minutes he was standing next to Red looking at the source of the problem. It was indeed a manticore, the most dangerous monster that could be found on the continent. This one wasn’t much of a threat though. She had tried to swoop in through an open panel and had collided with the milking machine. Her lion paws were stuck in the braces meant for delicate holstaur hands and great bat-like wings obstructed her movement between the iron bars. She wasn’t going anywhere.

It wasn’t for lack of trying though, she had done nothing but curse and fight all day. Red shared a pack of strawberry bubble-gum with his boss while both stared at the creature ranting and making demands. “G-give me all your boys. Ugh. Get me out of this thing and give me the boy and nobody gets hurt. I swear I will eat your livestock and rip you apart.” The farmer and his assistant just stared at her, chewing, surprised and a bit amused by the situation.

“So…” Red began while the creature was still yelling. “I can’t milk yer wives with her in the thing.”

“Yup….” Said Bruce. Slowly chewing on his gum. “She’s gonna have to come out at some point…. Manticores is dangerous though. Knock her out then.”

“Knock ‘er out, knock ‘er out, ye say that like it’s some sort of solution. How am I supposed to git past that there darn tail.”

Red was right, the creature had a scorpion tail that ended in a wet suck-hole but with venomous barbs attached. She swept it dangerously around. Bruce scratched the stubble on his chin. He looked around at his beast wives, the holstaur cattle that was kept under control with the promise of sex. Really, manticores were the same as holstauri, monstergirls that would anything to get some tail. Suddenly he had an idea.

“Daisy, Beth” He said to two nearby holstauri. “Could you try to hold our new guest down please?”

The absent grazing expressions in the cows’ eyes were lit up by a bit of focus and purpose. Daisy walked up to the tail and tried jumping to catch the thing swishing around while Beth grabbed the wings and forced them to close.

There was some struggle and Daisy got hit square in the shoulder by the tail but in the end the beast was subdued.

As soon as the danger was gone the farm hand climbed on top of her and applied the narcotic to make her sleep. She gave an angry growl but then quickly fainted. The cowgirls cautiously let go of the bodyparts as they fell uselessly on the ground. Daisy rubbed her shoulder and picked out a venomous spike. Her vision blurred as the poison started to take effect.

Red was dislodging the predator from the rack when his eye fell on her luscious forms. He grabbed a boob in a completely non-sexual and detached manner, weighing it a bit. Sure, it was mostly fat but so was a holstaurus breast wasn’t it? And those produced milk.

Bruce scratched his head at Red’s antics but before he could ask just what the hell he thought he was doing Daisy brushed up to him, pressing her boobs to his arm. “Honey.” She moaned. “Ah feel really, really good”

He pushed her off. “You have an allotted time slot Daisy, you’ve got to wait your turn like everyone else.”

“Not this time.” She mooed as she grabbed his throat and dragged him down.

“Hey boss.” Red wondered aloud. “What does manticore milk taste like?” When he didn’t get an answer he turned around to see his boss reluctantly pleasuring one of his cows. “Must be the poison barb.” He thought, picking his nose. The sight of monster sexuality didn’t shock him any more after spending so much time on the farm.

When the Manticore woke up it was wearing an assortment of different harnesses, one to bind her wings, one around her tail and some sort of tube thing on her breasts. The boy she had followed to the barn was holding some sort of leash attached to a collar. “Wha’s yer name beautiful?” He asked.

“I ain’t got one. Nobody gave me one.”

“Well then it’s my responsibility to name you. I think you’ll be… Mittens.”

“Mittens!?” Her face became pink with shame. “That’s an awful name.”

“Well it’s yours. I’m Red by the way. The old guy is Mr. Stephord but you can just call us Farmer.”

Mittens tried to wrestle herself free from the constraints but she couldn’t make it budge. “Why are you keeping me here? What are you doing?”

“It’s for an experiment.” He gave the thumbs up to his boss standing next to a switch and he activated the device.

She felt a tugging at her nipples as the tubes started a steady rhythm of sucking motions. She looked down with a scared face at the machine doing unknown things to her breasts. Next to her the holstauri barely acknowledged her presence, glancing slightly in her direction when she made a moaning sound but otherwise letting the dull routine go by. The milking was absolutely terrifying, but the longer it went on the more pleasurable it began to feel. Her breasts felt warm and stimulated until some squirts of milk actually started to shoot out. She yelled softly, it was almost like an orgasm.

The milking was done, Red looked disappointedly at the shallow layer of milk Mittens had left behind in the bucket. “Well, that experiment was a failure.”

“Actually,” Bruce said. “thah wasn’t terrible for a first time. Breast tissue mostly starts developing for real after the milking has started, not to mention we’s got plenty of hormones for that sorta thing, she could grow to be bigger than some of my girls.”

Mittens felt her cheeks flush hotly. Bigger than these cows, walking around with huge swollen orbs of fat on your chest, what a nightmare. Then again, there was something perversely enticing about the thought of getting milked like that every day.

“It’s definitely non-alcoholic” Red said, sipping the manticore milk from a thimble. “But it burns in your throat like vodka.”

“I think you should be in charge ‘a fucking the manticore.” His boss said. Red spit out a cloud of milk. “What!?”

Mittens cocked her ears, she liked where this was going. 

“S-sir, what do you mean.” Red stammered. “We’s not breeding manticores are we?”

“It’ll be good practice. My beast daughters will be your beast wives some day, the ones we won’t sell at least, and you need to know how to keep them happy.”

It was hard to imagine for Red, the calves Mr. Stephord had conceived with his holstauri to serve as the next generation were so innocent and cute now. Of course it wouldn’t always be that way and they would soon grow up to by curvy women with great needs.

“Well you can start now.” Bruce said. “She’s for sure itching for it.”

Red had gotten used to seeing sex on the farm, but to finally start participating was a big step and he was getting nervous. Well, it was part of the responsibilities as a farmer, he rook a big gulp and climbed behind the creature.

“If you untie my tail I can make it really pleasurable for you.” Mittens purred eagerly. He laughed a little at her naivety when he unbuttoned his pants. “It’s not about my pleasure.”

He unceremoniously thrust himself into her moist cunt. She shrieked a bit, shocked by his direct approach. His rod slipped in and out of her passage as fast as he could make it move. She instinctively moved with him, slamming her body against his pelvis to fill herself up as much as possible. Her body told her to attack him with her tail first and to stretch her wings when orgasming but the body parts rattled powerlessly within the harnesses.

Suddenly, he spurted it all out. “Ah, shit.” The older farmer laughed. “You’ll work up sum stamina in time, kid.” They tagged her lion ear with a cow tag and pushed her in a pen like common livestock.  While he cleaned himself up. The humiliation almost overshadowed the pleasure she had gotten out of it.

After three weeks she had forgotten all about it though, addicted to the pleasures of the milking process and the farmer’s lovely dick. She could get used to the cattle lifestyle.

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