Somewhere in the world, there was a man named Cole Galloway. Someday, he, an arable farmer, moved to the countryside. Well, he’d already lived in the country with ma and pa, but this was further in it, and one thing that marked this was ‘different’ country was there visibly being more monster girls than men. Such a factor made Cole feel squirming distress, but the property he’d bought there was cheap enough he didn’t even need to take out a mortgage, so really, it’d be childish to let it pass him by from something like that.
Now, don’t get Cole wrong. He wasn’t spiciest toward monster girls. Nor were his parents particularly religious. Monster girls were everywhere, doing their sordid deeds and corrupting the pure and what else the Order made opera about at mass, so Mr. and Mrs. Galloway thought bellyaching at this point was largely useless, and went on with their lives not fuzzing about the monsters either way.
Still, once it came to teaching their son life lessons, they would lean on what was more or less Order teachings anyway, passed down through either parent’s respective family line like some hereditary fairytale. He was taught about the importance of virtue, of chastity, of the need to avoid sin. The result was a shy boy who tended to train in farming more than he trained in social interactions, especially if the opposite sex was involved.
All that dedication to agriculture made him grow into a well-toned and muscular man. A well-toned and muscular shy man, he reminded himself to his own displeasure once he heard the first fifty crass sexual advances from unmarried monsters the second he took his beginning step into the village, which also reminded him of their excellent hearing and smell.
To say that the first couple of months were ‘rough’ for Cole out in the stick’s sticks would to be tantamount to saying that losing both your kidneys would be ‘a bother’ for your physical health. The village well of men had dried up long ago, and nobody wanted to inbreed, so what happened at the arrival of a handsome man with a six-pack, chiseled jawline, clean-shaven face, a profession that led him to often take his shirt off and sweat a lot, plus blushing easily when being teased? Well, replace the first seventeen words of this paragraph with ‘To say they were ‘aggressive with their courting’.
The competitions were pretty open, and he was the prize no matter where he went. Everywhere he went, there would at least be one unmarried girl that would trap him in conversational cages of inordinate affection. Even the seemingly asexual gyoubu danuki that drove into the big city and back with products farms couldn’t produce shot him eyes that viewed him less as a mark and more of a mate. These habitual sessions were torture for both parties as Cole was a fifty-fifty split between not being able to pick up on flirtations from lacking experience, and walking on eggshells until he could find the earliest opportunity to run away fast enough to make a horse feel useless.
Now, some men, above below and at his age may question his need to run away from women eager for sex, but it wasn’t as if he was incompatible with them or that he lusted for nothing. Cole, since he learned what that was, was assured and confident in his heterosexuality, and he found it very easy to acknowledge the appeal of his fellow villagers. Growing up in a rural area had made them laxer about how they appeared to others, so it wouldn’t be uncommon for a hobgoblin to bare her sweaty chest as she used her clothes to wipe her forehead, or a troll kneeling in the dirt swaying her hips in jeans that struggled to be form fitting. Neither of these were intended to be seductions of any kind, merely just them caring more about finishing work than how they looked. It gave kind of relaxing quality to their sensuality, bizarre as it sounded, and Cole often entertained thoughts that maybe he should accept their invitations once arousal had been allowed to rise within him.
But then everything about relationships and commitment and intimacy eroded it with anxiety and he’d make more piss-poor excuses to go than the man with the world’s weakest bladder at a party. They seemed like nice girls to Cole, and he knew it hurt them – all of them – with his indecision, but his fears were simply too great. The cheer of the wererabbits, the diligence of the giant ants, the seriousness of the centaurs, the docility of the weresheep, the boisterousness of the minotaurs, the simplicity of the goblins – none of them penetrated through his iron-clad trepidations.
Still, it wasn’t all bad. Eventually he learned how to speak with his fellow villagers and carry actual conversations with them, though preferring male company, bonding with the majority of the village and becoming something of a pillar of the place with how much he worked at his own farm while helping with other’s. He liked the village, loved it even, and wanted to do as much as he could to make sure this uncomplicated community could keep on trucking.
Eventually, there came a special day. Not that you could tell that. From sunrise to midday, it seemed like a perfectly regular day. But then again, special days usually hide in the skin of a regular day.
Cole was visiting the family-run general store, rummage through shelves looking at the prices of the provinces carried back from the big city, trying really hard to ignore the gaze the gyoubu danuki cashier had on him. While he wasn’t satisfied with what he’d found and wanted to look more, he was reaching his upper limit and turned away quickly to pay for the foodstuffs so he’d be free to rush back into the safety of his home. This wasn’t what happened. Instead, he turned, slammed into a wall of pillows that had been conjured there while he wasn’t looking, and fell onto the wood floor, himself on the automatic noting that, thankfully, none of the things he’d been holding had broken, then noting that his ass hurt.
“Oh! Oh no, ah’m so sorry! Ya’llright?”
Such called a voice to Cole, southern belle twang obvious. Recognition of said call came after a second, and he looked up to see……well, not a face, but the hint that he was talking to someone monstrous. Two hints, actually, and pretty big hints as well, either one of them probably bigger than her head. Still simmering in the cauldron of his apprehensions, he was rapidly debating if it was safer to skitter away like a bug or sit there like a deer in the headlights. The voice, not knowing any of this, spoke again.
“Ah shoulda been payin’ more attention, sorry. ‘S mah fault. Ah didn’t hurt you, did ah?”
Now she was reaching out a hand. It was a simple gesture, but Cole felt it was a weird sight. He was on the floor, and now he was made to…stand up? He stared at the hand, but thankfully not long enough for things to become awkward before clasping his own in it, her superhuman strength pulling him upright in no time flat.
“There we go. Ahhh, now your stuff’s all over the place. Lemme repay you, alright, n’ let me pick it up for you.”
Now, he could actually see a face. A round one, with freckle-dotted cheeks, mint-green eyes and a mouth wry with small worry framed by a bob cut of ivory white hair with slate-grey streaks. She would be simply human if this was all. But two horns, white as bones, protruded from her head and pointed skyward. Her long and flat ears, same color as her hair, drooped down. Her bushy tail could be seen tucked between her legs. Exhibits A, B, and C of why she couldn’t be a human.
“N…Naaah, you don’t need to do that.” He semi-nervously said, sharing a similar southern inflection to hers. “A-Ah’ll just be on mah merry way, ah won’t bother you none, miss.” He really hoped she’d take the hint. When she put hand on her hip with a huff and frowned, he knew she didn’t.
“Now listen here. Ah don’t know what family you been raised in, but mah momma taught me that if ah did somethin’ wrong, best ah could do was help out. So, imma pick these up. Don’t worry, hun, it’ll only take a minute.”
As she said that, Cole realized something was…strange. Not anything bad, but still strange. He couldn’t describe the feeling he got talking to this monster girl. He was still anxious of having to reject a girl yet again – and that’s went it clicked. She wasn’t treating him as some potential suitor. Well, not yet at least, said his deep-seated worry, but he still thought she couldn’t really mean anything by it, so he scratched his neck and told her: “Well, alright, ah suppose. If you’re willin’ to be nice ah should probably take the offer.”
“Heheh, thanks!” She smiled with closed eyes. That was enough to almost vanish his uneasiness, and he couldn’t stop himself from helping her. She was slightly annoyed at that, but it didn’t last long anyway, the both of them conversing with each other, sharing some shopping tips and a few anecdotes about themselves that sounded surprisingly alike. It was mostly her that talked, but she seemed to realize this and gave him enough time to think of something to say, which Cole appreciated. They had to end prematurely when they’d become aware that time was beginning, so they said their goodbyes but not before affirming they should both talk more someday. The cashier was surprisingly curt when he cashed out his goods that day.
Now, Cole didn’t know this, but that was the first day he met Gwen Jutland. She had been in the village for two more years than Cole had, specializing in fruit crops, and selling milk on the side. Her own, that is. For she was a holstaur, which is combination of ‘holstein cattle’ – a type of dairy cattle originating from Frisia – and taur – the Latin word for bull, referring to uncastrated male cattle. Many people, especially the radical cult of Minos, have pointed out it would be weird to call a family of cow women that, but nobody had come up with anything better so it stuck. Not that it really mattered to Cole what race she was. And it didn’t really matter to Gwen that he was a single man. What mattered was that either of them had found a friend in one another.
Gwen had moved here because the price was low and that she wanted to live on her own as soon as she could. Not because she hated her parents, but she felt she would if she had to keep living with them for any longer. She integrated well into the community, doing her part with her harvests and playing with the children. But, to get to the point, she felt lonely. There were plenty other women and men she was friendly with, but not one of them she felt she’d ‘truly’ connected with. But that changed when Cole came into her life. Not that she saw him as a husband, but more as someone that was easy to talk with. And so did Cole.
The gaps in-between them seeing each other shortened with every instance, until there wasn’t one. It was simply small-talk in the beginning, but without either intending to do so, they’d begun sharing work, opinions, holidays, weaving themselves into the life of the other so smoothly, it was hard to comprehend they’d at one point not known about each other.
Cole remembered the time Gwen had enough and stomped over his home, stopping him from working until they’d made the place look presentable. Gwen remembered when Cole served as a taste-tester for some foods made with her own milk as an ingredient. Normally, the arable farmer probably would consider being offered food made with baker’s own bodily fluids as some kind of seriously perverted pass at him, but it was Gwen’s, so no worries. And even so, he was too lost in the flavor to think about that, even. Every new sample was a call from him to heap more praise upon her, until he told her she shouldn’t be called a mere baker, for she was too skilled for that. No, she was a chef. And he meant every word of it, which was probably the biggest reason she was blushing telling him to stop being embarrassing. So many memories shared between them.
The time she listened to his critiques as she showed off her wardrobe.
The time she convinced the already meat adverse farmer to adopt a vegetarian diet after he’d shared a story about being traumatized from seeing a pig get killed before his child self.
The time they almost passed out drunkenly singing their throats raw in karaoke.
The time he was a shoulder for her to cry on when gramps finally kicked the bucket.
The time where she taught him, through much trial and error and being laughed at by Gwen, how to ride a horse.
Each of the memories were precious to the both of them. And there would only be more with every passing day. She was simply so easy to be with when he didn’t have to worry about getting away, her mellow nature that could accept almost anything relaxing his stresses. Funnily enough, the more he interacted with Gwen, the easier he felt it was to talk with the other monster girls. He thought Gwen’d given him courage, but the real truth was that monsters had a supremely advanced and mystical organ called ‘eyes’, and an otherworldly and almighty intuition called ‘pattern recognition’.
And like Gwen and Cole’s beginning of their relationship, when it began to turn, it happened before either one had realized. Cole had more frequently caught himself staring at her breasts, thinking that she didn’t wear bras often while he could swear he could hear the milk sloshing inside any time she turned too quickly or ran. And Gwen had on more than one occasion complimented his ‘captivating muscles’ instead of what she actually meant to compliment, and felt herself distracted at how his well-crafted back flexed as he went to work on the fields with a farming implement.
One time, she’d idly complained about the pain in her breasts and how it was soooo annoying having to milk herself all the time, and Cole joked that maybe he should be her personal milker, so she’d one less thing to complain about. They chuckled at the joke at the time. But at some point, it’d stopped being a joke. Without trying to, his hands were around her giant boobs, tugging left and right into a pail in nervous silence broken by bovine-like whimpers and incessant questions if ‘he was doing it too hard.’
After that, it wasn’t long before Gwen couldn’t milk herself anymore, and she told Cole he was the only one who could get her milk out, which filled him with strange sort of feeling he couldn’t decide was disquiet or pride. And such the sessions, in which he had to distract himself from how nice and full her milkers felt in his hands, she had to push the suggestive moos down her throat, continued. The tension between them reached such thickness even the arable farmer picked up on it, but did nothing to move it further along, avoidant of engagement as he was.
Then, another day, he woke up and heard Gwen calling for him. Despite the tension between them, he smiled at seeing her again, so he went out to say good morning. And when Cole saw her, he couldn’t so much as whisper.
Before the fields of golden corn, she stood in a white sundress, looking as if she walked out from a painting. Grinding her hooves into the ground, caught between hiding her redness and making actual eye contact, Gwen mumbled with the greatest demurity she’d ever shown the farmer that she wanted him to milk her right now. A strained ‘shut up’ came his way when he deflected by pointing out sundresses weren’t usually good farming clothes, and another after he asked why he had to do it from the front this time.
Milk, which Cole knew tasted like warm liquid comfort, shot stream after stream of whiteness into the pail as he gripped about their softness, Gwen cooing affectionately as his gentle but firm hands tugged at either tit, her breath labored and face flushed, to her own embarrassment. Courage, refined from the pleasant sensations Cole’s touch created on her sensitive breasts, pooled inside her, and she let it permeate her being, make her no longer doubt her future. She tried to keep a sharp inhale from being heard once eying the massive erection pushing the fabric of his pants. He tried to focus on anything that wasn’t how incredibly sexy she was or the noises she made.
Cole was ready to flee the minute he was finished, but Gwen kept him there, so to stare at him, to let them be in each other’s presence. Neither he nor her became less fascinated in studying every detail of the other, and the emotions behind the silent exteriors kept building until there were two choices left: Explode with it, or let it out. Gwen had a whole speech about what she felt, and Cole stole it away with a soft kiss.
That night was endless. They were slow and cautious with exploring one another, often clumsy and awkward. But they kept moving forward together, hand in hand. In spite of their mistakes, they could easily accept the other and let them refine. Together with the previously unknown total amount of pleasure the body could give and take, there was no question that their love was as clear as the blue sky on a sunny day.
The next day, Cole tried to tell Gwen nobody else should know about this, fearing making the other girls sad. Naturally, Gwen couldn’t keep her joy from forcing her to expound about their joining and his traits, both cute and attractive. And naturally, when you’re a small village, word spreads like polio in an anti-vaxxer community.
Now, the village had never been rich, so an actual Erotist wedding was right out. But everyone still wanted to help out, even the children, so they decided for ‘the next best thing’. In the town bar, they celebrated Gwen becoming a Galloway and Cole finally getting some backbone, serving slightly lopsided cake and beer for the adults, root beer for the kids. Their congratulations were so noisy and thick inside the building it was like the words themselves enthusiastically shook the couple’s hands. Gwen kept being slapped on the back and told how devilish she was for stealing the arable farmer from under their noses, but none of them seemed to be actually mad about it.
There was even an aisle to walk down, made of cardboard, amateurishly painted with an arch that said ‘CONGRATS ON YOURE YOUR WEEDING!!!!!’ on it. Past it, a hired priest went through the motions, and all the Galloways could think about was when they would kiss. When they did, oh so tenderly, the crowd blew up with shouts and cheers. The whole of that day was one of their greatest treasures.
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It had been a year since then, and Cole Galloway (33) and Gwen Galloway (32) had spent it in a kind of low-key, relaxed bliss that occasionally came to the forefront with overt displays of affection because they’d ‘remembered how much I love you.’ Gwen herself had no complaints with living with Cole. Well, almost none…
“Lookin’ good there, hot stuff!” Said Gwen, walking up to Cole, who’d stripped his shirt from the heat as he loaded hay bales into the shed. One would think he’d lose the wholesome structure with harvesters and tractors, but the farmer took his health deathly serious and kept rigorous routine to keep himself fit. The holstaur certainly didn’t mind. The stuff that body could do to her, by the Gods…
“Yeah,” replied he with a smile. “ah reckon ah’ve done a pretty swell job today, too.”
“Umm, ah meant you, darlin’. You’s lookin’ good.”
“…Oh, is it? Ah, err, ah didn’ catch that, to be honest…”
She was used to it by now. That boy couldn’t catch a flirt even if it was heat seeking. She honestly found it cute more than anything else. His chest, sweat-sheened, was really distracting. If he’d let her, she’d love to lick it clean.
“But you’re right, you have done some mighty fine work. Gotta be tirin’ you out, so ah was thinkin’ that maybe…”
Grasping both his shoulders, she pushed her giant chest pillows against him, mushing them as if to show off their squishiness.
“…your wife could help you relax?”
She fluttered her eyes expectedly whilst smiling – not a naughty smile per say, but more a sweet one that made no mistake of what she was going to do. Cole had gotten progressively more shifty-eyed the more she spoke, but the holstaur was still hopeful.
“Mmmm…Sorry, honey, but ah’m not in the mood.”
And there it was. The line Gwen had become more used to hearing than she felt she should’ve. It wasn’t really strange that he wouldn’t be willing to shake up cream inside his wife’s butter churner even after having an amazing first session, considering his hang-ups on it. Someone afraid of heights may be able to jump from the sixteen feet diving platform the first time safely, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t be afraid to try it again after a month.
Gwen understood him and let it pass, like she’d done so many times before. Obviously, as a monster, romantic affection and sexual affection informed each other through string telephones, and would love to share it with her hubby, but she thought it best to respect his wishes, considering she was still happy with her lot even then.
Even more than most holstaurs, once Gwen was somewhere she felt comfortable, she had zero trouble not sweating the small stuff, or even a good amount of the big stuff. Some of the kids once accidently smashed a window and a Jutland family heirloom from playing soccer, and while Cole was gearing up for the kind of stern talking-to that gives children nightmares, her reaction was ‘eh, ah’m sure gram-gram’ll be understandin’ if we glue it back together or somethin’. It’s not really somethin’ to make a big fuss about, they were just playin’.’ The farmer wondered sometimes, with varying degrees of seriousness, if she’d apologize for being stabbed.
The way Gwen saw it, there was no use rocking the boat if the flow it went on was pretty good already. Life was too short for too much stress. And there was always another day, so no rush. Cole sometimes wondered if he was being too selfish, but always appreciated her understanding. And Gwen sometimes felt a little exasperated at how scared of intimacy he was even with his wife, but loved him too much to really want to overstep any bounds.
Such did their days continue. But as they did, Gwen couldn’t help but feel something in her stomach. A desire to be snappy with him, to tell him that there were some needs his wife had too. She quelled it, but it still remained there, as an emotional splinter. And every time next he said no, it would sting a bit.
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Dinner was served once more in the Galloway household. Gwen was on rotation this time, so it was ‘grass stew’, as she called it. Contrary to its name and appearance, it was actually quite nutritious and tasty. It’s a wonder what you can do with the right spices and temperature.
“Aaahhh, thanks for the food! Gosh dang, ah cain’t help but fall in love with you all over every time you whip up another one of your stews.”
“Hmhm, and ah cain’t help laughin’ a little every time little mister ‘ah’ll-never-get-acquired-taste-for-this!’ praises mah cooking.”
“Still not lettin’ that go? It was one time, darlin’! Dah, what is it with women and only rememberin’ all the bad parts?”
“Well, somebody’s got to remember ‘em, because you boys would be in a rush to do the same mistakes over and over if we weren’t here.”
They shared a good laugh at that. Just another moment to solidify how good the day had been. But, as a throb in her lower area told her, there was something else that would make it perfect.
“MmmnnnnNMM!” Was the sound made as the holst stretched, making those big ballons bounce unintentionally. “Ah’m beat! Can barely stand right now, ah tell ya, after such a busy day.”
“No lie, darlin’. Ah know you said you could handle it on your own, but you had me sweatin’ with how much you took on yourself without mah help. Was worried you were gonna pass out or somethin’.”
“C’mon now, hubby, ah’m your wife, yanno?! Ah can handle as much as you, or ah wouldn’t be able to call mahself that.”
She had that usual mellow smile on her peaceful face. Yet, it subtilty contoured with immodesty as she pushed, slooowly, her white-and-grey cow patterned tank top-clad milk jugs, drawing attention to them that she tried pushing further via putting her hands atop them, emphasizing how they were dwarfed by what lay below.
“But ah am tired, and ah could use someone in the bedroom for some niiiice R&R after such a long n’ hard day, eh?”
Cole paused for a moment, thinking on her words. Then, he opened his mouth, and his expression indicated that he was somehow serious.
“Why’d you wanna rock n’ roll in bedroom, ‘specially after a tough day? And ah didn’t know you was a musician – no offense, but you didn’t seem like that kinda gal. Uh, to me, at least. And ah can’t play none, ‘cept cat screechin’, so ah’m guessin’ you’s got a bandmate commin’ over, or somethin’? Introduce ‘em to me when you got time, alright?”
Gwen blinked, wide-eyed. Blinked several times, actually, staring at her husband while she tried to figure out what the hell he was talking about.
“Rock n’ ro- no, that meant rest n’ relaxation. Outta where didya pull that, Cole? You know ah don’t play, and neither does anyone else here, ‘cept Beau’s kid with the pots and pans.”
“Ah dunno. Could have hobbies ah dunno about, and you could’ve had a hobby ah never asked about. Mama told me it was rude to judge books by their covers, so ah don’t.”
“Okay, well, ah want t’ have some rest and relaxation with you in the bedroom. Fill your wife up with your energy as you pound the exhaustion outta her~.”
“Ah mean, that’s kinda weird, isn’t it? Restin’ n’ relaxin’ ‘s the same thing, so why say it twice? For emphasis?”
A very annoyed sigh was bound to escape from Gwen’s lips at some point, so now was as good a time as any. “Please stay focused here, darlin’.” The holstaur grumbled.
Though, she quickly recovered. With the prospect of being in her lover’s arms on the table, so could only be so mad. So, batting her eyes, reaching over the actual table to caress his hand with fingers almost dancing, she tried again.
“Look, don’t get it twisted, ah know you love t’ work, n’ ah love it too, but it’s always all work n’ no play. ‘S been so long since we had time for fun, darlin’. Don’t you wanna try that again?”
This time, he caught on easily, which meant he tried to hide he did, which then meant she could easily see he caught on to it. “W-Well, yanno, we do need to work so we have money, s-so we can live n’ stuff…” He tried, to the unperturbed face of his wife.
“We’re already done for today, ain’t we, darlin’?”
She squeezed his hand. It was rough from constant farmwork, but in a way that was warm and worrying to Cole.
“N’ besides, if you’re worried ‘bout us skimping work for…fun, considering how married life ‘s been for us a both, ah don’t reckon we’ll need to worry about anythin’.”
The farmer looked at his wife. She was so lovely, so beautiful, and her smiles never failed to melt his heart. But he was still scared. He remembered something his papa once told him.
“Look here, son. When you are gettin’ yourself a wife, your first, ahem, time together may be fun, but don’t be fooled. Intimacy and all that stuff after the first one isn’t something you do for fun. It’s tedious n’ gratin’ n’ leaves you feelin’ ashamed of yourself afterwards, even if it’s necessary. So, take it from your old man, n’ focus on gettin’ better at your work.”
It was just one of the many things said to Cole as he grew up, and considering his parents mostly strained and sexless marriage, he was willing to believe it. Of course, his dad had divorced not long after he moved out and remarried to a young devil, of which their daily intercourse involved him folding her into so many different poses she could be called origami, but Cole had a bad habit of not keeping up with his parents. Whatever the case, he wasn’t ready to have sex with Gwen, so he leaned on the ol’ reliable.
“Look, ah get it, ah really do, but ah’m sorry, ah’m not in the mood.”
Cole did his best to apologetically smile at the holst. And she smiled back in understanding, like she usually did. But – and he wasn’t sure if this wasn’t simply a mere trick of the light – he felt there was a slight twitch in her lips, like they were trying to go down instead of up. Then, suddenly, she spoke.
“Okay, please tell me, why aren’t you in the mood, darlin’?”
Gwen knew she sounded slightly accusatory there. It was hard not to. She was still aware that he didn’t hate her or anything, but that splinter in her stomach stung again. It was the same as the other times, but for some reason, she couldn’t brush it away this time. That sting crept in her gut, and caused her to say that. She didn’t even know why it did, she was aware why he couldn’t, so why’d she say it?
“Well, it’s, y’know, it’s…y’know?”
“No, ah don’t know.” Gwen said, snippier than intended. And she couldn’t stop herself from continuing with: “It’s been a year darlin’, a year since last we did it. Haven’t we waited long enough? Haven’t you?”
“Well, y’know, it’s, it’s the work n’ stuff, ah’m tired, yeah, real tired.”
Gwen didn’t think he sounded tired, but was willing to let it go and compromise.
“Alright, that’s fine. Ah’m tired too, but ah got enough energy for spoilin’ you any time of day, so it should be fine if you just lay back n’ use mah mouth, right? Ah promise you; it’ll feel so good you’ll be kickin’ yourself for not havin’ it earlier, sweetheart.”
Actually, Cole mentally told himself, a blowj*b is fine. That probably wouldn’t last long, and it’ll be fun for me, but more importantly, for her. I have been itching for some fun, and now that the light of my life is offering it on a silver platter, who am I to say no?
But, argued back the part of himself which sounded like his dad, you know how it is with monsters. How the other guys might start with a small thing, fooling with their wives just a little, but sometimes, it always ends with a whirlwind of scary passion. I know Gwen is a gentle soul who’ll respect your wishes, but you can’t be sure about her. What if she thinks less of you because you’re not dominant? What if she binds you down and turns you into a breeding bull? Very possible. Can’t you hear that? That’s your heartbeat, and it goes pound pound with fear. You’re just not ready. Listen to it closely, focus on it, and base your aloof logic on it and make the right choice.
The second voice had the farmer heard for way longer. And in the society of Cole’s brain, you respected your elders. Such was why he withdrew his hand from her grasp and made excuses.
“Ah, e-em, ah just remembered, t-there was something ah needed to solve today. A-Ah need to finish a purchase, so sorry, but ah don’t think ah have time.”
That technically wasn’t wrong, he was purchasing something on the computer, it was just that the purchase was technically already completed, and Gwen didn’t know this. He wasn’t lying to her, no, he was simply……choosing to not correct misinformation.
“Really? It’s just a purchase. It can wait for a little, ah reckon. Come on, darlin’, you’ll love it. Ah wanna feel again the ways you can love me, and don’t you want t’ see how a gal like me can make you feel with her mouth n’ tongue?”
She almost suggestively licked at him, but didn’t because Gwen wasn’t the type to come on like that. She knew this, but why did it almost come out then, as her images of the coming events made her cl*tor*s throb with a need she hadn’t felt before? Cole didn’t know the answers to that, because he was thinking about new excuses.
“D-Don’t get me wrong, ah’d love t’ be with mah lovely sweetheart, b-but the guy ah’m buyin’ it from…he’s a hardass, a real hardass. It’s important we get this for the farm, and ah dunno how long this will go on for, so ah cain’t, in good conscience, promise anythin’.”
The arable farmer thought he did a pretty good job sounding convincing there. The guy was actually one of the most stress-free people he’d bought from. He did feel a bit guilty about deceiving her like that – though not enough to acquiesce to her requests – and thought it’d be best to apologize.
“Sorry ‘bout that. Hope this isn’t annoyin’ you.”
“Nah, it doesn’t.” She lied, forcing down the frustration to give him a somewhat strained smile. “Ah get stuff like that takes time. Don’t worry none ‘bout it, hun.”
And then she said, with slightly undue enthusiasm and force, the following: “But the second you can take a break, we’re talking it together, you hear? Ah really need it. And you. You do too.”
Cole pretended like he wouldn’t try to make her forget her saying that was he moved to computer room to watch funny animal videos on mute, while his wife ended her fantastic day by failing to not be annoyed her husband still didn’t try to ravish her.
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Usually, there was a period before Gwen did the typical holstaur courting behavior of pressing their breasts against their husband with special force, so Cole thought that when he woke up tomorrow, it would more or less be over. The first thing she asked him the next day being when he was done with work made him realize it hadn’t. He told her he didn’t know. She told him if he had to guess, when would it happen? He insisted he really didn’t know until she relented.
But while she relented there, she wouldn’t over the next couple days. Asking about when next at least one of them would bite the pillows, that is. And they would come with brief intervals, like the interior walls of a haunted house that inched closer whenever you looked away. She’d get talked down, after which she’d talk about ‘waiting a while’ before asking again. Eight minutes later, she’d come round again to ask.
She was also closer in general; Gwen was the first to notice. She and him loved being around one another, such was obvious, but they both did separate work around farm to get more done, and the social breaks were much appreciated by both. But her hands shook, and her mind wandered back to him, and all those times he was shirtless, the sweat rolling off him ever so gently, the burly, manly smell he gave off. He certainly took off his shirt a lot, didn’t he? Maybe he liked being seen. Or maybe, he just wanted to tease her…
Such thoughts came to her as though they were on a slide down into her conscious. Usually, that was fine. As a monster, it was common for her to lean towards thoughts like these, but she wasn’t really the type to be focused on it. Normally, she’d ignore them, and they’d disappear like drunk party people when the club lights get turned to maximum do. Here was the problem; she tried to do that, but they wouldn’t go away. Like the gut splinter, they stuck there, never gone, only minimized.
One thing that was obvious to them both was that, when she depressed her thoracic milk parlors down on his form as so to signal him to mate, it seemed to be there harder and longer. With every new squish, she became less sure if it was because she wanted to make her intensions clear, or that the tingle that came from the action became more produced. And eventually, the heat of Cole’s body refused to abate from her breasts, feeling as if velvet fabrics wrapped round them with force as cautious as the petting hand of an animal-lover hated by animals. It was about there she realized there wasn’t much more she could take, which in and of itself was hard to realize when being constantly distracted by the feel of his broad back impressed into her mammeries, faint but so potent she could memorize the shape of it through the heat alone. Again, something needed to be done, and it needed to be done right now.
The arable farmer heard the big *CLUNK* and thought it was worth investigating. Turns out it was his wife putting down a milk pail inside and looking quite tense, but not from exhaustion weirdly enough, Cole noted. Before he could ask her what she was doing, she faced him with a wide smile, and spoke with great enthusiasm.
“Oh, oooh noooo, mah breasts hurt sooo much, ah just cain’t wait any longer! Sorry, but it really hurts so much, darlin’, won’t you please help me?”
Cole looked at Gwen. Beyond the smile, her right ear was back but her left jutted forwards, and didn’t seem as if it would stop doing so. Her tail hung in an ascending parabola. Her hooves and hands looked firmly planted on the floor and pail respectively, appearing in such a way that, if the farmer didn’t know any better, she was trying to stop herself from jumping in excitement.
“Uh, you don’t look like you’re in any kind of particular pain.”
“Well, ah am. What, you don’t believe your wife? For shame, Cole, for shame.”
“Um, well, it’s not, emm, y’know, ah’m not, ah’ve not- “
She did feel a bit bad by putting him in that situation. Her breasts did hurt a bit, yes, but not really enough that not milking now would be tantamount to physical assault by inaction or something. Alas, desperate times. Especially so once the target had the double-layer defense of density plus willies. Really, salacious contact through milking was about the only thing Gwen could drag out of Cole any time she wished. And she definitely needed that. There’d be no actual sex, so it wouldn’t fully satisfy her, but she still needed it.
“C’mon, darlin’! They’re so full n’ aching, just ready to burst.”
Now, the holstaur wasn’t one for overt seduction. Usually, her kind gave a sign when they wanted intercourse, then waited for their husband to come over and mount them. They didn’t really try to trick them into rutting them with a million indirect signals like, for example, the succubus did. But her putting her hands down her sides while sticking out her chest, moving her body so to let them gently sway, showcasing their buoyancy, was definitely the latter.
“Can’t you hear it slosh around? So heavy, can’t you see? Pay attention as ah move them back n’ forth, darlin’. They’re so big, there’s bound t’ be so much in there…”
Cole knew his wife wasn’t trying to be seductive here and thus shouldn’t himself act like she was, but looking at those big boobs straining against her tank top as they swayed, coupled with her mellow, measured tone……He’d been used to these things for a long while now, yet right there, he couldn’t help shallowing a lump from the strange hitch they caused inside his body.
“Please, don’t keep me waitin’. Ah need to have your strong hands and their hard grip on mah soft, malleable mounds. Ah’m so pent-up, ah need release, ah need you to really squeeze the milk outta mah plump, bouncy milkbags, darlin’…”
“Uh, em.” Started Cole, trying his best keep the stirring in his chest hidden and his eyes from not looking at Gwen. “A-Ah don’t…m…m-milk ya too hard, ah think. Or do ah? ‘M sorry if ah do…”
She merely giggled at this, narrowing her eyes before bouncing and rolling her massive teats off her hands. Harder still did it become for her husband to know where to look, to stop squirming at the heat he felt.
“Ah’ve no need to worry mahself about that, y’know. You’ll never hurt me intentionally, darlin’, and ah don’t think you ever could. Maybe ah’d even like it if you reaaallly tugged them, making me gush in no time. With milk, that is. What are you waitin’ for, darlin’? Just get in there n’ give me what ah need, in the way only you could…”
As she snaked her fingers below the tank top – done slowly in such a way that most people would realize it was because they wanted someone else to actually do it – Cole became aware of a slightly musky smell, tickling his nose, feeling his brain get a bit mushy. But even he would understand eventually, that his sweetheart was begging to be milked, to have those nipples pinched as healthy white milk streams out. He cursed himself for being so blind to his wife’s needs that she had to kneel down and show off so much before he’d understood she was in pain. ‘Well, she won’t be in pain for much longer.’ said the arable farmer to himself as he took a step toward her.
‘Yes! Finally, thank Goddess, yes!’ was the immediate thought of the holstaur, struggling to keep the coursing heat spreading through her body from making her act rash. Cole was already taller than her, but as he approached, face focused, she felt so small, like he could just sling her over his shoulder and do whatever he wanted with her. Fantasies rushing through her head, she closed her eyes and stuck out her chest, completely forgetting the premise of needing to be milked. She didn’t even care if he started soft, so long as he eventually got rough. Honestly, she wouldn’t even care to be embarrassed of mooing like some common tramp, so aching was she. All she cared about was feeling his hands and knowing that the itch would be scratched, and she could think clearly again.
But she got suspicious of how long that was talking, and when the holst chanced to open her eyes, Cole was not before her, but past her, instructing her to carry the milk pail with her because he wanted her to see a ‘surprise’ he’d gotten for her.
Already, she had a bad feeling, but the allure of his smell was too potent to resist, and such she followed along, not carrying the milk pail as much as she dragged it.
“Ah think you’ll like it, Gwen, it’s gonna make our lives so much easier.”
“Okay, alright, that’s good haha, but could you, like, be quick about it?”
She said that pretty speedily. To be true, everything not being sexual contact the holstaur sped through, purely focused on how the atmosphere of a barn would affect things. And when they actually got there, Cole, with some measure of excitement, pointed towards…a milking machine. A milking machine, Gwen repeated to herself. A, milking machine. A milking, machine. He even had audacity to introduce it with ‘tah-dah’.
“Honey, what is that?”
“Um, well, it’s a milking machine. This one’s made specially for holstaurs. You lean over it, apply suction cups to the nipples, and then it’s done in like twenty minutes. Neat, huh?”
In a way, it was a magic trick, because all the excitement she’d built had vanished into nothing, staring at Cole, wagging her tail which does not mean the same thing for cattle as it does dogs.
“Maybe ah should instead ask why is that?”
“……Ah…Ah’m – look, ah’m sorry, ah don’t mean to be rude here, but whaddya mean?”
Gwen didn’t stop staring at him, nor wagging her tail, as she said: “We’ve no need for a…machine t’ milk me. You do that, so why?”
“…You know, ah expected this to be more of a happy surprise…” Mumbled the farmer to himself before he tried: “Well, ah cain’t milk fast nor as efficiently as a machine, an’ it don’t get tired, n’ can do it any day unlike me. Thought it’d be a helpin’ hand ‘round here.”
Well, that was true, the holstaur mentally conceded. It would be more effective. But that wasn’t the point, the point was that he shouldn’t have a machine take away his duty that he’s shriking by being so stuck-up – she stopped herself right there, unsure which track her train of thought had shifted to. Obviously, he shouldn’t be forced, he had his reasons. But…but there were parts of it that were important. So, she could think it for a little longer, because it was important.
“Alright, but, but, but… Ah think you could do somethin’s a machine never could. A-An’ never will! ‘S gonna be sad, with…those things gone.”
Cole looked at her indistinctly, eyebrow moving up slowly like a big, filled fishing net being pulled to land by hand.
“Um, honestly ah dunno what that ‘somthin’ is, less we talkin’ ‘bout it takin’ a while to finish while ah take forever………Is that what we’re talkin’ ‘bout?”
“Anm, n…naw, it ain’t, ah wasn’t talkin’ ‘bout that. But it’s still important, though! A machine cain’t take it slow like you do, meanin’ you can really get the best product when use your hand an’ go slow an’ careful…an’…an’ eager-“
“We don’t sell this, honey.” Cole cut her off, unknowingly saving her from embarrassment. “It’s just for relivin’ the pain that happens in your udders an’ occasionally makin’ some food from it. Just cuz there’s a cow here don’t we’re runnin’ a dairy, you know.”
“That may be true, but that shouldn’t stop you! There’s soul in your milkin’, you grip ‘em with purpose! ‘S some real, um, intellectual type stuff you got in your hands. Your big…strong hands.”
“Well, ah don’t…really know what you mean by that, but ah don’t think art’s about…milkin’ an’ stuff, so ah think the machine’s much better. An’ it don’t have the risk of goin’ too hard, too!”
“Y-Yeah, ah guess it don’t haha, b-but you cain’t hurt me, anyway! There’s nothin’ your hands could do to me that ah wouldn’t love! Nothin’ at all!”
“…Really? Nothin’ at all. Like, nothin’, nothin’?”
With other people, Gwen would’ve just assumed they were being pedantic, but she knew that, despite the fact it shouldn’t be, it was a question, and she quickly nodded in confirmation in the vague hope it would bring her closer to having her stress squeezed out as she was squeezed like a stress ball.
“Look, ah know people like me cain’t do much damage ‘gainst monsterfolk, an’ all that talk ‘bout them girls lovin’ every touch of their sweethearts an’ such, but nothin’? Like, ah could shoot a steel rod in your forehead an’ your heart would be flutterin’ from that or somethin’?”
“Yes.” Replied Gwen instantly. She didn’t agree but she thought her point would be proved better if she did. “Ah…ah would be…ah wouldn’t be hurt. Maybe bleedin’ but not hurt! Ah’d be…paralyzed…with bliss, an’ fall to the floor.”
Then she smiled, a bit forced, hoping Cole would stop trying to cage her in that thing.
“…Huh. Didn’t know you was that kinda gal. Not judgin’, or anythin’! ‘S just…ah guess…you learn somethin’ new every day.”
He paused to scratch his head and look to the side, awkwardly.
“You don’t seem to like it, which makes me kinda sad. As your husband, ah shouldn’t shoot so far off the mark, ‘specially now ah put so much money n’ time into it…”
Cole really looked to be sad and regretting showing her this, which was a good thing, as it meant there was a chance it could get thrown out. But it was also a bad thing, because Cole really looked to be sad and regretting showing her this. It was enough to make Gwen give up, and reprimand herself for being so selfish. It was hard to do that when the splinter – which was more a shard at this point – kept trying to convince her there was only someone else being selfish, but she managed a slightly strained version of her trademark smile.
“Naw, sorry, sorry. It’s fine, ah just…wasn’t expectin’ it, is all.”
‘And ah’ll probably get some time with him soon anyway. Cain’t be much longer.’ She thought to herself. Cole did cheer up a bit at her words, and then went on to say: “Don’t worry, it’s gonna be a real boon, ah reckon. Trust me, you’ll learn to love it before long!”
***************************************************************************************
She tried to, at least. She really did. But she couldn’t. Gripping the handle bars to steady herself as she laid her waist over the middle, her nipples encased in translucent domes as her udders were gently pulled and pushed back, the whirring of the machine the only sounds as milk was tugged out from Gwen… It wasn’t the same. And it wasn’t enough.
She’d tried to close her eyes and imagine his hands being the ones squeezing her mounds, and later, that it was his mouth, sucking it. There was a kernel of pleasure in it, so maybe if Gwen where to focus on it, let it be him soothing her pain, showering them with oral affection, showed how much her body was possessed by him, it would become bearable. But the mechanical noises echoing in the lonely barn and the coldness of the suction cups seemed to mock the effort, and she couldn’t, no matter how she tried, escape from the fact there was none else but her in this place.
Thus, the days toiled on. And the holst could feel every one of them. The pit in her stomach expanded with every hour, and her mind kept racing. Thoughts of him became more frequent, consuming increasing amounts of focus, leaving a shilling left for any work. It was especially shot whenever next she was around her husband. Those muscles she so loved became the starting point for where she looked now. Even with clothes covering them, they always seemed to be defined against it, leaving them visible for all. With the six-pack that looked so strong, so sturdy, promising a comfort and toughness of a rescuer, keeping herself looking in his eyes, or otherwise not trailing off as she lauded his physique with her eyes like the heat told her to, was hard.
That was another thing: The agitation. It was the closest she could describe it as, given she’d never felt it before. It spoke to her, whispered words she couldn’t let herself get lost in, filled her with urges, though she wasn’t sure what the urges told her to do. Obviously, she was aware that it would be dangerous to be exposed to it for too long, but like walls in a prison, it was there no matter where she turned. And as he continued to evade her requests, it became a comfort. It was no longer roiling poison, now liquid cheer, the feel of being patted lovingly slithering around inside whenever his presence was there, the only thing that could abate the clouding of her mind.
Cole, surprisingly, also noticed changes in his wife. Now, Gwen had always been affectionate, with kisses and hugs and handholding and such, but compared to the usual monster…Well, Cole didn’t have experience with them nor human women to make any conclusions that weren’t based on ‘vibes’, but he felt she kept it to the expected levels. Spaced out enough that there wasn’t any chance she could be seen as addicted to her husband, but often enough to remind that her love was very much set in stone.
Even so, he didn’t notice anything different at first. Regardless of his fears, he thought still Gwen was a lovely gal, and minded in the least whenever she’d show some love with a kiss or some words. That’s why he only realized it looking back, when it first started. Suddenly, she was kissing him longer, harder, eventually diving for his mouth like she was trying to dry it of his spit, necessitating him to push her back. Her hands glid toward him, over his body so often, over his hands like she was trying to sculpt some clay labor of love, interlocking her fingers with his so hard he could feel her shakes. Conversion devolved, words about his build, his face, his strength slipping in, usually prefaced with passion-leaning adjectives. And from her face and apologies afterward, Cole could see that despite their frequency, she genuinely didn’t mean to do it so much.
Things reached a point wherein Gwen seemed to become unable to leave the arable farmer’s side. She’d find whatever excuses to be within arm’s reach, and denying whatever her husband said when brought up that it was like she was staring a hole in him more than she worked. And requests like wanting to be princess carried up the stairs, or wanting her head patted, or rubbing his arms, chest, shoulders, well, their number made sure that you couldn’t call them ‘special’ requests. He obliged because seeing her ears flick, her tail relax, her mint-green eyes closing with a happy smile breaking out on her freckled face was a delight, as was seeing her bashful reactions when he called it cute. But he was beginning to worry, not understanding what was talking over her. He was, however, sure it had nothing to do with overt sexual desire. Holstaurs weren’t that kind of people, Gwen least of all.
Such was the reason he felt guilty feeling his own sexual desires, and why her proximity was problematic. Lately, a sort of oily sheen had rolled over her – his immediate guess was sweat, but he wasn’t completely sure – that gave a shine to her features, persisting even after showers and colder days. Now, to Cole, Gwen was already the most beautiful woman in the world, but with that translucent smear, that magnified to spellbinding whenever the sun reflected off it. It showed her off so naturally it was as if nature itself beckoned him to her form.
Obviously, he was aware of her giant breasts, and had been more so the last couple of days, yet it had been so long since they’d looked so………pillowy and wobbly, to him. It was lit up by that sheen, flashing at him in some bit at attention, making him think about them calling for him, for his touch, for his grip, his caresses. Her turning around didn’t help matters. One because her breasts could be seen from behind. Two was that her ass, while not as massive, still made curves in her pants that left little to the imagination, certainly firing up Cole’s imagination as he thought, rather guiltily, about how its softness would help if she was to be bread. Would the obvious answer be to simply avert thine eyes? Yes, clearly, but there was a problem there also, in her smell. The first thing which made Cole think it was sweat was the musky smell she gave off. As a farmer, it didn’t bother him much since he was used to such scents, and could safely ignore it. At least, he should’ve been able to. But, like the shine, it had some power over him. It wasn’t a pleasant smell, but that wasn’t the reason he couldn’t get it out of his head. It was an overpowering odor, but one that was distinctly Gwen’s, pulling his thoughts toward her with the predetermination of a left-wing essayist mentioning the evils of capitalism, and keeping them firmly on her most interesting areas.
There was much of himself that wanted to embrace that lust, and to embrace her. But guilt moved his hand as much fear did. True, she’d shown signs of wanting to mate – she still pressed her breasts against him often – but she was probably managing it better than he was, and he didn’t want to force anything on to her, same as he feared for the myriad things he could imagine going wrong during intimacy. Which wouldn’t happen, but he thought they would. Honestly, he wanted to commit fully to one of the two desires, but couldn’t move either way. It always sucked to be the involuntary centrist.
Yet it could only be in standstill for so long. Spending so much time around her, being made so aware of her, the stick of butter was bound melt into something boiling. There she stood, facing away from him, cleaning up the kitchen after use. Her cute tail stood straight down, while her white ears relaxed, but the part Cole focused the most on was her wagging behind, back and forth like a metronome, the movements of those tight, fleshy mounds trapped behind denim practically inviting his hands to feel them sink into softness. So, he stood up from the table.
Gwen’s tail straightened out, and her ears went back while she locked in place. It was inevitable once she heard his steps. She’d found herself in complete contentment simply by being close to him as much as she was, but being even closer, especially by his initiative, would only be better. Even as she hadn’t felt pressure on her breasts for a while – for Cole had politely requested she ‘tone it down’ – the heat remained, and every single of his footsteps sweetened it. She could soon feel whisps of his respiration touch her back, kissing her skin, sliding down her back with a trail of thrill, necessitating she closed her eyes, her breath hitching slightly, a non-stiff smile revisiting her visage.
Obviously, it was a-okay if Cole wanted to do nothing, as Gwen was content to absorb the feels – heightened by a body simmering with a constant warmth – of his presence. She could survive just fine until he was brave enough for the bedroom, if she spent every minute, of every second, near him, nothing more than that. But oh my Goddess could you imagine how it’d feel if he just attacked right now?! The lone idea was enough to make her genitals quiver, her legs shake. It’d be so divine, especially after so long of ignoring his wife’s needs, the pleasure would explode out and it’d be the perfect apology for it all. She was waiting for what he had to do, and she could feel his hands hover over her, raising gooseflesh even before he laid them upon her form, and it was impossible to stop her bovine ears from flicking, her tail lifting for access. She wanted to look back at the cute, desperate face of the pent-up man who could no longer deny instinct, opened her eyes with a wide smile, and saw him reaching past her to grab a bottle of juice.
Now, he was walking away, drinking from said juice bottle. Still was Gwen stuck, only her head unlocked to turn around, smile gone. Her mood vanished, a mirage oasis for the now and the past survival. Cole was oblivious to his wife staring at him like how a noblewoman would a peasant existing in their general vicinity, thinking to himself that he was glad to keep his hands off her. That’s why he was caught so unawares by the holstaur’s surprise attack.
“You know, ah’ve been thinkin’ it’s high time we would be makin’ a baby.”
Spit! Out fountains the orange liquid into the wall. And a flushed, wide-eyed face turns to meet her own stern one.
“Whu-What yew mean?! Where’s this comin’ from?!”
“Well, it’s comin’ from mah mouth. Yours too, ah reckon. We’re not in a chastely marriage – least ah hope not – ‘n ah know we’ve talked ‘bout this before. You’ve built up so much, so what don’t you use them big, bugling muscles, and that…that…thaaaaaaatttt…”
Gwen had kept up some momentum, but a brick was dumped on the brakes the second she re-affirmed her goal; her husband’s body. And even lower than his chest, wrapped in tight pants, was the outline of his manhood. She knew how it looked, but if you went by her reaction, it was like she never had. It wasn’t even hard. Oh Goddess, it wasn’t even hard. But there it was, rapidly becoming the center of Gwen’s world, reflexively blinking less so not to waste any time.
The holstaur really thought she’d built up some resistance. Hoped, rather. But…It wasn’t even as though it was presented to her. It just was there, so fat and juicy, unaware of its sexual allure. Or maybe, it was teasing her. Yeah, no, considering Cole’s whole attitude, there’s no way it wasn’t! What a naughty co*ck…… Already, she was concocting punishments, to keep him on the edge by sensually dancing on it with her tongue, to tie him up and fill her pent-up little puss* with mind-clearing cum, to hear him whimper as she traps it in a hellish heaven of softness…she could barely keep a moo out imagining how dependent he’d be on her in that moment, such a perfect pet for her to mold as she pleased, and he’d thank her for it. Her monstrous instincts were in overdrive, such that even simply looking at it, she could feel it in all of her holes, feeding that storm of fuzziness within her, all other thoughts drained to make room for how she needed his co*ck, how she had to have her fix of cum like some wanton whor*, how she would smother him in milk, smother out all those thoughts that kept him away.
“Ummm…You gonna wipe that?”
There was a delay before she reacted to his words, then she didn’t understand what he meant, before feeling the drool going down her chin, which she erased with the back of her sleeve, then looked up at and past him without gazing anywhere else.
“A-A-Ah- look, what ah’m sayin’ is, won’t you please make me pregnant?”
“Aum, eh, m-maybe you should go get milked.” Cole stammered, thinking being a struggle when those fat, sweaty milkjugs swayed. Had they gotten bigger? They seemed to be closer to tearing through the cow print and bouncing out and all around. He did his best to hide his gulp.
“Ah did that twenty-five minutes ago, and it- “Gwen’s teeth shut so hard you could hear it, and then she grimaced for a half-minute, before continuing. “It was something that made me have no opinions on it, positive or negative but that’s not important right now. What is important, is that we – you need t’ take a load off, plough the fields with some new crops, if you know what ah mean, hehheh.”
“…Ah don’t?” Said Cole, after a pause. “We’ve already ploughed the fields; you were there, you saw it. And furthermore, how’s we supposed to take a load off by workin’ more?”
Usually, his denseness was a charm point, but as Gwen groaned with hands in her face, she wondered if she should’ve gone for anyone else than the guy who couldn’t catch a message even if it was inscribed in a cupid’s arrow and shot at him. Nevertheless, she spoke again, her voice slightly lower than usual from annoyance.
“What ah mean, is that don’t you want to l-lay your wife? Don’t you miss how we…oh Goddess…w-we…e-e-e-explored, each other’s bodies, that day?”
She was really blushing, not being able to believe what she was saying. Fighting against her embarrassment, she continued.
“C’mon, ah know you’re scared t’…oh Lady, what is he making me say……to b-b-be…t-t-to have se-se-se-be intimate,” Her whole face was red, practically squeaking now. “n’ ah’ll d-do the…movin’, i-i-if you…cain’t, alright?”
She took some steps towards her husband, and his instinctive response was to step back. He quelled the urge, but it wasn’t easy. Her face was blushing, and she averted her head in embarrassment often, but those eyes, those green eyes, they scarcely left him. Always staring at him, and while her tone and words indicated she was arguing for Cole’s sake, there was pleading in them. But also something he wasn’t sure he’d see her stare with before. A feel of them…drinking in his body?
“Uh, um, l-l-look, sorry, honey, but ah’ve got other stuff to do today!”
“Ah won’t even ask for an hour, or even thirty minutes, just ten will be enough! You really should take me up on mah offer; you look tense. Even if you don’t have the energy t’ throw me ‘gainst the wall n’ really plow me like ah nee- ah mean, like you probably want to, ah promise that your wife won’t leave your c-c-c-c…um your p-p-p-ahhh you-know-what, u-u-um…oohhhhh, what is comin’ out of mah mouth…”
Even as she said that, her gaze wasn’t far from the piece of meat she was, apparently, too shy to actually call for what it was. When he stepped back as she slowly advanced at him, she could see it bobbing slightly there, and her salvia glands kicked in and her tongue tried worming its way to limply hang, like a machine activated by image recognition. Sweat continued to drip down the holstaur, catching in her shirt as her lower hole clenched, begging to be stuffed.
In Cole’s defense, he needed to step back. That musk hadn’t lessened since last, in fact, he guessed it’d only become thick enough to cut. He guessed, because he didn’t want go too far into it, least he be trapped, dumbstruck to be carried off by his increasingly weird wife. From the faint whisps that touched his nostrils, it already shot through them into his brain, fogging it up, making it hard to think as tingles spread from it and down his body. He didn’t know what would happen if he got closer.
“L-Look, ah don’t want to be puttin’ too m-much pressure on you. But ah think we both need this. You – not me – most of all. And honey…didn’t you want somethin’ like this? Ah’m ready t’ b-become a mom; didn’t you say you wanted to become a dad?”
“No.”
That was a lie. Becoming a dad was very much a life goal of Cole’s, and he’d indicated as much several times. Probably the only reason holding him back was the voice in his head that sounded like his mother, telling him about not ‘rushing in to make a mistake’. And Gwen was about as fooled as you, dear reader, are right now.
“…Really? Ah’m pretty sure that you, while takin’ to some of the village kids, went on about kids ‘as cute as them’ someday.”
“Uh, n-no ah didn’t, you’re misremeberin’.”
“It was October the twenty-sixth, at the paradise hills, the second one, you were wearin’ blue-white flannel with a straw hat you threw out nineteen days ago, it was thirteen-fifty, and the talk you had lasted four minutes n’ forty-seven seconds. No offense, but ah really doubt it.”
“Well…Well…Well.” He opened and closed his mouth, nervously darting his eyes around, hoping she wouldn’t come closer. “Well…you still misremembered. But not in a bad way! In one of them…natural, forgivable bad ways.”
That actually made her stand still from confusion.
“…Huh?” Uttered Gwen with an arched eyebrow.
“Ah, ah was talkin’. To the kids. But not ‘bout mahself, ‘bout them. Ah was, was, was sayin’…was sayin’, talkin’- ‘bout how when they – that is, the kids – can have children, ah hope they get, get children cute as…themselves.”
Cole faltered momentarily, stopping his gestures as he realized what tumbled from his mouth. But he decided that he’d come this far, so he may as well see it through.
“So, yeah, nothin’ ‘bout me wantin’ kids. But ah get how you could make that mistake, darlin’. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”
Gwen continued to stare. Her eyes as though they were regarding some strange bug on the wall.
“That’s what you said?”
“No if n’ buts about it.”
Her staring didn’t seem to stop. After a while, she declared: “That’s a really strange thing to say to kids.” Her tone didn’t sound like she believed an ant’s width of what he was saying, with a small part that, nevertheless, wanted to entertain his notions to satiate some personal intellectual curiosity.
“F-Figures it would sound like that…cuz, cuz it’s aaaaa, uhh, aaa boy’s thing! It’s a, it’s a boy’s thing. A boy’s thing. I…I-It’s not…somethin’ for- I mean, no offense, but it’s n-not somethin’ girls or women get.”
“………………Really, now?”
“Yep, “Cole said, speaking the next part with a little more force. “and sorry, but ah wasn’t as excited as you thought about havin’ kids n’ stuff. N-N-Not t’ say ah don’t wanna someday! Is just, ah, um, ah, ah dunno, sorry, ah guess ah don’t got it in mahself for today. Sorry, ah really am.”
Really, that shouldn’t make any difference, the heat seeped to the holstaur’s heart. Who cares if he can or can’t? This has gone on for long enough. It’s become an emergency. You need me fulfilled, you need to have a mind that can think, legs that do not quiver, arms that do not need to be kept where they are, a body that does not ache. Look at him, he’s afraid, but he still doesn’t know where to look. He loves us. And you love him, do you not? So drag out that love with your own two hands, again and again and again!
The buzz of her urges tightened their grip on her abdomen, bursting out with a sudden shot of titillation, so powerful it was a trial to not react to it via reeling back as if punched. Her skin had only become more sensitive, more ready, over time, that even the semi-tight clothing she wore was rubbing against it in tortuous ways. It was awful, and she needed it gone. Perhaps, if the conversation hadn’t dragged for so long, she’d bowed to that need. But now, most of – let’s call it ‘regular Gwen’ – broke through, and felt enough of her usual understanding to quell it.
Sure, her mind was still as open as she wanted her legs to be to fantasies of kneeling down before him, slapping that uncovered man-meat against her cheek in a sign of submission, eyes half-closed and mouth smiling a sexy smile, as Cole, rather than say sorry, would – with a masculine growl that’d make her gush right there – order her to thank him for the gift he’d provide her. And yes, it wouldn’t be too inaccurate to say she was somewhat regressing mentally from all that she needed to pent up. But……call it routine, but she’d rather he’d take her on his own, and still held out some hope that would be soon.
“Okay…Okay, ah get it, darlin’. It’s fine, ah…ah can…wait.”
“Really? Um, look, ah apologize if ah’m sayin’ somethin’ ah’m not supposed to say, but…you don’t look like you’re okay with that.”
And that was true. Gwen was actually frowning, something she only realized when Cole pointed it out. Well, that wouldn’t do. She was fine with it. She was. She was. So, she couldn’t be frowning right now. That would make it seem like she wasn’t fine with it, and she was.
Still, she couldn’t simply bring out the smile. Invisible weights had apparently attached to the corners of her lips. It felt as though swimming against the stream tensing her muscles to turn it upside-down, but she got there, eventually.
“No, no no, no, ah…ah’m fine, see? Ah really am. It’s…it’s fine, darlin’.”
“…Okay. Ah, ah know ah can be a bit troublesome about it, but, well, thanks. Thanks for understandin’ n’ bein’ a good girl about this, Gwen.”
He had no idea how hard he’d just made it for her to keep being fine with it.
***************************************************************************************
Job 19:2 was about accurate to how Gwen was feeling toward Cole lately. The general quality of her work had gone to sh*t, and it was all because of him. Such was natural when three of her senses were occupied by his tendency of shirtless work, his sweaty odor, and his words of praise. The two remaining weren’t better, throbbing with lichenous need that the occasional peck or pat merely strengthened, never lessened. She’d realized being close never helped, naught more than a trap. But it was already too late. It already held dominion over her, such that the simple action of seeing him trigged spikes within her, yelling promises that became harder to fight back with every utterance.
Her body had long since sided with that agitation. Even when removed from Cole, her clothing, no matter how baggy it appeared, would scrape with licks of pleasure against her butt, or hug her chest like she wanted him to hold her. Walking made these problems worse, and whenever she tried to fix the discomfort, she would inevitably bend into poses that seemed to showcase how breedable the holst was. Yet, that was still preferable to actually being near him.
Whenever she was close enough, milk would start spewing. Endlessly. Making every one of her cow-print tops soak in the white liquid, making them translucent, revealing her diamond-hard nipples that stood such even Cold couldn’t help but think they needed to be sucked, before blushingly dismissing the idea. It made her feel ashamed, like she was merely some hooker wearing farmer-themed fetish clothing, rather than the real deal. Alas, she was even more ashamed of how the milk generally made her feel. Droplets fell, leaving splotches on the floor, and she was so sad there was so much being wasted, before understanding what she just said to herself and wanting to die from the embarrassment. The arable farmer asked if she had been using the milking machine and she affirmed she had but it hadn’t done anything. She felt bad at having told him such a blunt lie. Even as she justified it by her hatred of that infernal machine, she knew the idea of lying like that to Cole, even for her benefit, would’ve never even crossed her mind for so much as a picosecond. Every passing day, to every passing hour, it felt as though she was becoming someone else.
Of course, that wasn’t the only thing which gave her such impressions. Similar to some patience-short kid, her hooves scraping the ground in annoyance was now the default when standing still. Her tail swished without stopping. Conversations with her husband had become impossible. Before words were to be exchanged, Cole had to wade through the jungle of pheromone-suffused sweat, or the teasing sight of her milk-wet tops. Made saying anything coherent a struggle when you had to fight to not be again stuck in the quagmire of wanting yet not daring to make a move.
Not that the holstaur fared much better. She could barely get out any words with her mind on other things. Things such as that the sight of his mouth making her vividly imagine sloppy make outs that would have his eyes roll back. Or that the sight of his abs making her fantasize about feeling their strength on her back as he lay upon it, thrusting from behind like a beast. Or that the shy glances at her breasts made her think about Cole being a cute, young stableboy, laying across her lap, moaning cutely as momma Gwen stroked her good little boy, drinking her milk with boundless enthusiasm. It was like a never-ending loop of building up to a climax, then fading down to zero. She barely had the mind to stop herself from snarling at him.
Conversation with herself, however, she was perfectly able to. Excelling in it too, for picking up on it in such a short time. Right now, she was doing it as she pulled some weeds growing around the edges of the farm. Well, she was pantomiming doing so more than actually pulling, instead choosing to hone her skills of self-conversation that she’d shown such talent for. Inspiring, isn’t it? Let’s observe the prodigy at work.
“…calling me his good girl? Piece of…” She mumbled, referring to when he thanked her for being understanding. Then, as though there was some audience to hear it, she spoke up, throwing her hands in the air.
“You know what? All these great holstaur husbands in the country are drinkin’ milk, n’ Cole is RUNNING AROUND not drinkin’ mine. You know, this is what ah'm talkin’ about. Why is, Cole not drinkin’? All these great couples in the country, probably f*ckin’ NORMAL, husbands, drinkin’. Cole? Not drinkin’. Zero milk in his stomach. That is a serious problem, this needs to be fixed. We need to get my milk in his stomach immediately! f*ck!!”
Swear words was something the young Gwen had been told not to say by mama Jutland, and growing up she’d never got the allure of saying something coarse and/or vulgar, so they were kept to a minimum. But there was no other word than ‘f*ck’ to neatly package her feelings on her current situation, and what would fix it, also. Yet, when he who had the tool to fix it came around asking why his name was being shouted, she told him he just misheard, which he accepted as truth. Not that the holst really listened, more sorta squirming at his voice than anything else.
Nights were no respite either. While he questioned why, Gwen was allowed to sleep in a separate room. But, as we all know, with sleep comes dreams. And the dreams? Well…
“Thanks for doin’ all the work singlehandedly seven times over.”
Said Cole, standing really close to Gwen with a cute smile, a lack of a shirt, his blond hair blowing in wind that seemingly wasn’t actually there.
“Now we have seven weeks of free time to do whatever we want! Still, can’t say ah’m not thirsty.”
He then tugged her breasts in a non-sexual way, which were now exposed and dripping with milk, eliciting a moo from the holst which in turn elicited a chuckle from him that made her shudder.
“Don’t that sound…nice? Ain’t there a thirst you got too? How about you be a good girl, n’ let me squeeze out all of that stress…”
“Wow, it sure is weird that all of mah underwear was replaced with vapor-thin thongs that show the full creamy texture of my asscheeks, ain’t it, honey?!”
Said Cole as he walked ahead of her in an incredibly long hallway that was somehow very warm, Gwen ogling the sight as he walked such the fat meat jiggled with every step.
“Really appreciate you bein’ a good girl an’ helpin’ me find the missin’ stuff. When you’re around, ah feel like ah can just walk forever…”
“Mmmm, yeah, that’s a good girl, takin’ that fat co*ck like a champ…”
Said Cole, looking down into her eyes as she bobbed her head on his penis with abandon, a domineering glint in his eyes that just made the thing taste so much better.
“That’s right, lube it up all nice n’ good…We’re gonna need as much as possible for your tight little snatch to take it all n’ become a proper good girl co*cksleeve…”
She felt like she’d bite through her own teeth with how hard she clenched them as she awoke with eyes bloodshot and wider than millwheels. She panted similar to how near-drowning man would being pulled out the water, moisture visible in the air from condensation. Her breast heaved and she could understand – like so many times before – how pleasure and desire could become nightmares so quickly, her skin feeling a million ants crawling all over. Out. She needed this out. But how? She racked her brain, panic and exhaustion making her run loops, pushing her mental to the point of hammer-pounding headache, desperate for something, anything to alleviate the heated misery.
Now, albeit that her monstrous instinct caused all that pain, they were also quick to lift her to a solution. It was pointedly simple; masturbat*. Gwen hadn’t thought that until now because she was a good Order gal – yes, monsters like that exist, they just ignore the parts calling for their kind’s genocide – so actually touching herself was never something that she considered. Surprisingly enough, she managed to grow up without becoming a massive deviant or someone using religion to bash the marginalized. Right now, however, she was desperate for anything to soothe herself that she couldn’t care about how degenerate she was acting.
Yet, even so, she knew her fingers wouldn’t be enough. Beyond that, she didn’t think she’d able to restrain her moos. That was another thing lately. She still hadn’t let out any before Cole, but she’d had to catch herself more than she’d like to admit. Generally, mooing wasn’t something holstaurs did for their husbands to hear. It was embarrassing, similar to how humans could find public kisses embarrassing. And that’s why she knew she couldn’t really finger herself. Mooing how she likely would when doing so would be the same as announcing how hot and bothered she was for him. Well, she was kinda already doing that, Gwen self-conceded, but she’d like to believe there was some sense of shame, even if only a modicum, she still retained, calling for her to not start acting like a wurm with a bovine motif.
However, there was no way she could withhold her position if she could do naught but return to sleep, that was obvious. Either her holstaur propriety went, or her functionality as a member of society did. Simple as that. And Gwen couldn’t wait. There was no rest to be had when the voices inside yell at you to claim what was yours the proper monster way. There was no telling when said shame would snap as a rotten twig does against surfaces, other than it was likely soon, and then her hands would move as though not her own, assaulting her body like some monkey in a wild attempt to please her form’s aching needs.
She needed to think. Think harder than she’d ever done before. There must be something that would make this night end. Something to quell the noise echoing in the skull. She clutched her head, powering through the throbbing toward any and all alternative ends. And then, she remembered. Their corn – it’d just finished blooming into full shape. And…and it was so thick…and long, too.
So astounded was she upon what her libido had conjured, like a demon summoner horrified at the sight of that which they’d in their hubris brought forth, that she argued against herself. She wouldn’t want to acknowledge that as the best solution, even as her mind continuously rebuffed her. Alas, the sweat was too much, the headache was too much, the need to have anything fill up her honeypot was too much, and so, defeated but still silent, she clopped her hooves outside the front door.
The air was acutely cool, making the holst feel like it was, mockingly, reminding her she was somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be. She’d put on her usual work clothes, since additional dirt stains wouldn’t be noticeable on those, though they were pretty disheveled too, mostly because, as she’d humiliatingly noted, they probably wouldn’t be on for too long. She was standing there, staring at the moon with her flushed, panting face, hesitating as if there was any chance of her dipping out. Eventually, her heart pounding, she went to the cornfield with a cautious trot.
It wasn’t long before they came into view, and even shorter was it before they were in arm’s reach. Holding one, she had to strain somewhat to wrap her hand the whole way ‘round, which shut down the excuse of her remembering wrong. It was standing up, probably through some monster mana magic in the soil, and was about level with where her cervix would be.
She still couldn’t believe she was doing this. That mere impatience had brought her low enough she’d need to humiliate herself so. Couldn’t she just wait, she thought as she stood before the yellow vegetable. Couldn’t she just try and bare it? Couldn’t she do anything except this? After a while, she resigned herself to that, no, she could not, and with great shame, moved to her workpants.
The cloth hit the dirt with a soft thud, exposing her privates to breeze of the night, making the ground become darker. The shame, which has oft been commented on, burned bright from the perversion, but she couldn’t deny there was a kernel of excitement, a sort of joy in the debasem*nt one man had brought her to, only proving her love for him. She turned around, and slowly as a snail eased her yearning quim into it, preferring to get it over with than listen any more to the nonsense her brain was cooking.
When her lips squished against the hardness of the maize, she couldn’t help hiss out a gasp from small shock which waved through her. She was confounded she’d survived so long without this. The corn was cold, but it would be hard for Gwen to recognize that as she gingerly moved her walls across it, her monstrous body imparting onto her a heat that shut out the surrounding chill as a reward for finally getting some relief.
“Aaahh! Mmmmaah! K-Kuuaaaaahhh!!”
Moans she hadn’t dared utter even during their first joining escaped upsettingly easy out the mouth that drooled, below the eyes that struggled staying fully open. It didn’t matter how slow she went, the feel of having her lewd flesh split thrusted within her jolts of sexual comfort, her hips jumping with delight at every inch covered.
“Uuuhhh…Mnnnh! Ih, aah, haaa, haaaa!!”
The pulse of near-org*sm danced in her lower body, and would become plain org*sm if she went but a tad faster. The apprehension the holst’d had for this act was all but gone as she backed up her doughy rear on the agricultural dild* how only a monster could, putting her hands on her knees for balance, tongue drooping from a mouth that panted heavily, vagin*l juices oozing to the ground. Finally, she’d taken it to base. It didn’t reach all the way through, and it wasn’t thick enough that she didn’t have to clench, but it’ll do.
She started as slowly as she inserted it, acutely aware through her arousal that too much force backwards and the grass would buckle and send her flat on her ass, which would be cruel amounts of humiliation at this point. But she found her rhythm eventually, rocking her hips to and fro on the vegetable, meaty squelching sounds echoing into the darkness as her puss* took the maize. Those sounds only served to remind her of how shameful she was acting, but it wasn’t enough to make her actually stop, just bring awareness of it.
“Mnnanghh!! Mn-Mnna,m…moo!! MOOOOO!!!!”
Her face was fully red by this juncture, mooing as wantonly as she did. She wished it wasn’t on this corn she acted like so. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for Cole to be behind her right now, instead of this rough and raw crop. Not that its texture quality mattered at this point, it could’ve been an empty, twisted-up flour sack and it’d still have her cumming from how starved her nethers were. Right now, she was going as fast as she could, naturally causing her huge bust to swing up and down as she undulated on the yellow thing, clapping together from the force of her movements. Perhaps from the stimulation, they were also leaking milk now, ruining yet another top. Motivated in parts of anger and how lewd she felt, she took a hand to the cloth, and yanked it up, freeing the mountains of flesh.
“S-Stupid, stupid, nmmah~, Cole, makin’, aaaahhh~ m-me a-a-act like, kyuuuu~! L-Like, th-thiiiissssmmMMOOOOO!!!”
Sorry, ‘leak’ was a misnomer. Gushing with milk was perhaps more accurate. White streams shot all around as her massive tit* bounced wildly when it was now free of the top. It was an obscene sight; she truly looked like a pervert now. But the lust had made so she cared no longer, seeking out the long-forgotten sensation of org*sm as her juicy utters shook like they were putting on a show for an unseen audience, spearing her clenching c*nt on the food that was a result of hers and his joined efforts.
“W-Why, c-c-couldn’t you’ve, nnmmmmgghhh~! J-J-Just pinned m-me down already mooOOOO!! Why c-c-couldn’t, aaAAHMMhhA~! Y-You just’ve b-been mah bull, ffuuuaaahhh~! N’, n-n’ ah’d b-b-be your, mmmmmn~, good little breedin’ cooowwww MOOOOO!!!
This, th-this is, kyyuuuu~! Your fault, MOOOO!! Take, nnnaah~, responsibility n’ s-stuff me, ravish me, love me, devour me, f*ck me, BREEEEDDDDD MMEEEEEE, MMOOOOOOOOOAAAAHHH!!!!”
That marked her first climax, and as hollow as it felt without a living partner, it cleared up her head, and that was good enough, when that wasn’t your last one by far. Once she’d finished, she wasn’t even sure of how many of them she had, only that it was around the ballpark of ‘probably not enough’.
Tomorrow, Gwen was good enough at hiding her expressions that Cole didn’t understand how and why there was so much stained earth in that particular spot. It was probably easier to do that when you didn’t have so much lust fog in your head. Gwen thought she could breathe a sigh of relief at having successfully stopped herself from going overboard. But then, she thought something else.
An evil smile stretched across her features while she looked at that ear of corn she used last night. Like it was the most casual thing in the world, she plucked it, and took it to the kitchen. Later the same day, with perhaps a smile a touch too excited, she suggested making lunch for Cole. Cole was initially wary, as his wife’s recent moods left her too, ah, hazy, let’s say, to do any of the food, but he relented, as she was particularly insistent on this one. He felt it was the right choice when she revealed what exactly she had in mind: Tomato soup, with a side dish of corn cobs. An old classic.
To the arable farm’s surprise, she worked on fixing up the dish with a focus and gusto that made him smile, certain now the mood which’d overtaken her for a while was gone. And what made that even better was her smiling back at him, handing him the soup hard enough that some spilled over on the table.
Gwen was still running on the fumes of last night’s escapade, but was still enough to keep her hands going. The sheer elation at, in a way, ‘punishing’ him, or further marking him, or maybe just trying to feed the sexual hunger, meant there was no way she wouldn’t do this. She could barely keep still, and tingles spread through her from her gut whenever he bit in some of the corn. And when he bit into that corn…she didn’t know how to describe the feeling she got, and she knew how to describe the feeling when he turned to her with happy surprise, asking her what she’d done different that made it taste so much better, even less. Whatever the feeling was, it was one that made her want, perhaps need, to smash through the table, the wall, maybe a straight line through the cornfield, dragging him along, chaining him down and showing him ferocity that’d make a minotaur seeing red go ‘whoa, ooo-kay, maybe you should, like, take a chill pill, or something.’ That, or screaming until her throat was dry. That was when she knew something had to be fixed, and soon. She’d like him to take the first move, she’d love to, but something had to change.
Thus concludes the explanation of why Gwen was standing at the top floor, bedroom door behind her, gazing at his soul to the farmer’s mild discomfort. Now, for what happens beyond.
“……Uhhhh, honey?” Was eventually offered after awkward silence. “What are yo- “
“Sex.”
“De-aahh?!” Sputtered Cole at her. “Now.” Replied the holst back.
“Ummm, honey, ah’d love to- “
“Then do it.”
“Well, y’know, it’s ummm, it’s not like that- “
“Then what is it like, then?”
“It’s umm, it’s uuuhhh, it’s eeehhh, you…you know, it’s, ah got, boundaries n’ stuff…”
“Oh, ah know. N’ before you say anythin’ else, ah’d love to not overstep them, ah really do…but do you know, do ya really know, how long it’s been since last time?”
“…Um, no, ah don’t really count the days of that kinda thing, sorry.”
“You should. Maybe that’d stop this from becomin’ an emergency.”
“…Emergency?”
“Ah mean that we need t’ do somethin’ about the mess YOU’RE makin’ me into, n’ the best time would be now. Ah’m sorry, ah really am, but you don’t understand the chaos that’s been in mah head.”
That wasn’t entirely true. Too had the farmer’s mind been jackknifing between his usual fears and longing for Gwen’s body. Right now, it was on fear.
“Well, then, a-ah’d hate to tell this, but ah just ain’t ready yet- “
“DO YOU HATE ME?! A-Am ah not attractive t-to you anymore, o-or somethin’?!”
He was taken aback by this one the most, mainly as he could see tears forming in her eyes. The holstaur felt bad about yelling at him like that, but it was hard enough to keep herself standing where she stood, much less having to worry about her own mouth.
“N-No, no, it’s nothin’ like that…”
“If it ain’t, then sleep with me already! Ah promise it won’t hurt, ah promise!”
“Honey, please!” Said Cole, moving to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s just calm down, n’ ta- “
The instant a finger bushed against her skin; her face contorted with overwhelming feeling. “MOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” She wailed, withdrawing her hand like a snake lunging in reverse, looking at him with a mix of anger and flutter.
“Don’t touch me, ah mean don’t touch me, less that’s you touchin’ me so you can take me to the bed!!”
This really was serious, wasn’t it? Cole felt a little bad at having her wait for so long. And there wasn’t much room for escape in this scenario, plus he did desire his wife, even if he often tried hiding it. But these hang-ups went childhood deep, and as such were to the type of sh*t that couldn’t just be gotten over so easily. He wished it was. He wished he could just be normal and have intercourse with his wife who loved him instead of stressing over not knowing what he wanted, least of all if she should take the lead or not. He stressed out over it, until he realized where he was standing; at the top of the stairs. There wasn’t a long way down, and people had often told he had a thick head. Obviously, this was a stupid idea. But the fear and stress clouding his judgement gave him enough motivation, and he leaned back before slipping out a foot…
***************************************************************************************
Through using up all of the luck left in his lifespan, Cole remained mostly unharmed from taking a tumble down the stairs, which honestly, for everything in the world remaining fair, he shouldn’t’ve. Gwen didn’t pester him – trying to f*ck someone after they’d fallen down the stairs, regardless of their remaining health, seemed kinda wrong – but what she did do was turn on the computer. Her mind had cooked up a secret weapon long ago, but she rejected it on the grounds she’d rather die than go through with it. She was still blushing hard even as she went through with it, but she was at the boiling point, and needed to do whatever before she exploded. It was do or die with this…
Over the next couple days, Gwen didn’t seem to pull something as brazen as that one time again. However, noted Cole, she also wouldn’t allow him to come too close, and she’d stopped talking completely. It was obvious to even the farmer that she was upset to at least some degree. The thought was quickly pushed out when it appeared, but Cole worried this was a sign of their marriage beginning to fracture. Of course, the love of monsters was legendary. But he wondered if there still was a limit…
Whatever her mood was, it was probably for the better to get her to start talking again. Such was why he waited at the bottom of the stairs – the monument to the height of his stupidity – resolving to talk to her but not daring to be the first that initiated contact. Eventually, the telltale clopping of her hooves reached his ears from around the corner on the upper floor. The farmer blew out a quick puff of air, likely to ready himself, and turned to face his wife, saying: “Hey, Gwen-!”
Some invisible muck clump seemingly lodged in his throat, as he’d lost his words, not able to react except with the kind of open-jaw expression that a slapstick cartoonist would use as reference. The holstaur delighted in the impact it had on her husband with about the same intensity that her embarrassment made her blush, the type of which would make killing oneself more irresistible as a method to escape it. Why was this, you ask? Or not, I dunno what you’re saying, we’re not really having a conversation here as such, but let’s say you are saying that for the sake of the story. Well, to answer that would be simple: It was how she dressed.
It is no secret that monsters are erotic. And when you factor in all people of the world, anything can be erotized, even things that one really, really doesn’t want to consider that could be. Naturally, clothes would be included with this. Typically, this falls into themes of excessive skin reveal, teasing with barely visible naughty bits, fetishized takes on ‘regular’ clothes such as maid outfits or nurse uniforms, the works. However, as with Gwen over here, there are monsters which prefer modest clothing, or even some which could be considered prudish. This does not mean they aren’t erotized.
Since a succubus is on The Throne, every single monster ever is on some level one also, basically meaning most subconsciously adjust themselves to fit their mating partner’s tastes. Not to say all of them do this – there’s far too many to be a universal thing, and the Overlord’s goal had already been long reached, so things slowed down – but in the case of Holstaurs, they dress like they do because there are some that do not like overt flaunting of their bodies like that of the orc. And furthermore, there is an erotism in something that isn’t sexualized still displaying their charm, as though it cannot be contained by it, or the attraction which lies in the person being unaware of their sensuality.
In conclusion, the reasons above, plus that she also did actual farm work, was why she usually dressed as she did. But here was the thing: She wasn’t dressing like that then, no, she was dressing to declare her body’s sexiness.
Black leggings wrapped around her considerable legs, making Cole see their healthy constitution like he had never before. In lieu of workpants were hotpants whose only similarity to the former was being denim and the word ‘pants’, wedged so deep into her genital area he was sure it was flossing it, which probably wouldn’t feel too bad, considering all the dripping lubrication going down her thighs, like it was shamelessly showcasing how eager she was to mate. Pulling his eyes above that – and believe me, that was no easy task – was a cute little stomach, bare to all, but what really caught the arable farmer was the, you guessed it, breasts.
As we all know, they were big. So big that even if you’d pointed it out, you had to do it again like five minutes later. Even in the less tension-filled days of their marriage, there were bounces, sways, squishes that would leave Cole staring for a second too long. He was sure that if she were to jog, the two orbs would smack together with sweaty claps much like city girls would do with their rears, and the thought made him do a sharp inhale. These milk aquariums, as some might call them, was restrained by a cow-print crop-top showcasing generous underboob, everything below the nipples. It was complimented by cow-print one-finger gloves, but Cole was hardly paying attention to those when said nipples formed around the clothes, functionally making her chest naked yet somehow being a more aggressive sexual statement.
Milk still flowed eagerly from those erect nipples, making the already naughty looking top even more so, practically teasing him as drops fell to the floor. It was hard to even notice the lipstick and mascara. Cole had always thought his wife wouldn’t need any makeup to look her absolute best, and that was still true, it was simply that she looked her absolute best from a different angle. That face, which so long had been the farmer’s image of a wholesome country girl, was unequivocally that of an enchantress. And the narrow-eyed way she gazed at him might just cast a hex on his brain.
“Good mor- morning, darling~♡”
To show the depth of command this ensemble had over him, he didn’t even notice Gwen correcting her accent. He was aware of words being spoken at him, but not what they were. Matter of fact, everything but her barely covered breasts was practically blurred. He felt ashamed at peering at them so brazenly, but there was like an invisible leash tugging him back each time he tried averting.
“…Whu…Wh…Why, why’s, what are, how come, why a-are you wearin’…th-that?” Cole eventually said, on the basis that doing so would be better than keeping silent.
“Well, cai-can’t a girl mix up her look every now n’ then?”
“U-Um, ah guess not, but your…”
“Hm? My what?”
“Your, um, your, uh, y-y’know, ummmm…”
The last part was whispered too low to hear, but Gwen got excited anyway, shaking slightly as she tried hiding her emotion while she put an impish finger to her maroon lipstick the way she thought a true sexy woman would.
“Come on now. Mah…what?”
“Your breasts! Your breast honey, ah’m talkin’ ‘bout your breasts!”
Oh, by the Goddess did that feel good to hear him shout. The hotpants rubbed against her leaking hole just a little nicer after that. She couldn’t help flushing about how, well, slu*tty she was acting, but with every second, the concern became lesser and lesser. After all, she wasn’t done yet.
“Unf. And why’s that you’re talkin’ about them?”
“C’mon, do ah really-?”
“Don’t be shy now, honey~. Ah ca-can’t know, less you tell me.”
Tomato-red went his face, stammering and mumbling attempts at answering her. So cute, thought Gwen as she bit her finger. He looked like a little boy even as he stood taller and more muscular than her.
“It’s, ah, l-l-l-l-leakin’, n’, n’, n’, n’ that…that makes it, uhhh, h-h-h-hard…t’-t’-t’ look……”
She could just eat him up. She felt like the big scary predator staring down the feeble prey that was to become her next meal. And the deep heat which now ran her body fizzled at the idea of doing so. But she was still a holstaur. He should make the first move.
“Oh, does it? Well, the milk’s gonna ruin any type of clothes ah-I have, so I thought ‘well, might as well bare those giant udders, if this is gonna keep goin’.’ A-A-Ah wonder why that is the case. Maybe, we- ah mean mahself, could do somethin’ to fix whatever is makin’ ‘em leak with so much, warm, tasty, breastmilk.”
Already affected by it, her strangely risqué tone was the final push to making his manhood tent his pants. She would be the death of him, if she kept this up. He’d throw himself into making all those choices his parents had told him were wrong with only enough mind left to regret it. The holst, for her part, felt her mouth salivate with need at the sight of that bulge. Christ almighty. It was already hard enough to control her accent, but controlling herself she could feel would be an uphill battle.
“Um, a-ah think, um, ah should…go.” Not Cole’s finest work, but it was all he could think of to put distance between her and him. Gwen merely giggled.
“What do you mean, silly? We’re just woken up. We haven’t gotten breakfast yet.”
“W-Well, yeah, that’s…that’s true, but there’s some, some, some work, work, yeah, that ah gotta do- “
“Important enough to skip having breakfast with your lovely wife?”
Well, he was caught there. Through his averting eyes and her crooked smile, they were as aware of that as you and I are. “N-No.” He mumbled, defeated.
“That’s good. I’d think I’d be a bit sad if I thought you’d miss out my big and full…”
She held it, delight in how he squirmed whilst trying to keep his eyes on her face.
“…pancakes, which I’ve been thinkin’ of making lately.”
“Okay, o-kay, that’s fine, b-but ah cain’t stay for- “
“Ho-nest-ly, now that we’re on the matter, I don’t think you should worry ‘bout work today.”
Cole froze up. “…W-Why?”
“Well, I was thinking about taking a free day with you. It’s been so long, hasn’t it? So long since we had some time…together, with nothing to get in the way…n’, n’ we could just be in- around each other. So much time, for so much fun, y’know~?”
The arable farmer was going to try and weasel his way out of this, but it was already too late; Gwen was walking down the stairs. It was slow and showy, making Cole think she was trying to make him hot under the collar. Which he’d be right to think, because she was. She wasn’t actually wearing any shoes, but the clopping of her hooves, a sound he’d so long been used to, constantly invaded his mind with visions of high-heels, and that was merely when he wasn’t shifting uncomfortably at those oglebaiting pair of bouncing mammeries. It was practically reflex, rather than thought, he dodged out of the way when she ‘accidently’ fell down at the bottom stair.
“Oh dear, how clumsy of me! Seems my focus was elsewhere, wasn’t it, hmmm~?”
Cole was more for women’s fronts rather than their backs, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be stirred by it. Those denim hotpants rode up her crack so far it may as well have been a thong. Combined with how the leggings cut around her booty in a sort of half-circle way, it was hard to pay attention to much else than how physics swayed her buttocks.
“My, a-ah really seem t’- seem to have a hard time getting’ up! A-Ah think t-that if someone came up t’ me, well haha, t-t-heeey could d-do haha, whatever they wanted! Annnn, and a-a-ah wouldn’t b-be able to resist! A-Ah’d have to take…whatever they’d d-do to me, without bein’ able to fight back…”
She thought she was coming on a bit strong, but it was hard to keep herself from saying it. It could not be understated how much she wanted it, that she would take any possibility of it coming to her early. It would please her to know he gulped at her words. And despite the ideation they brought forth, he opted to, with a careful hand, help her stand. Of course, this just meant she was now in arm’s reach.
“Thank you, my big, strong hero.”
“Uh, ah just helped y-you off the floor- “
“Ah can still be thankful for it, dear. And I think it deserves a kiss~.”
Gwen didn’t give him time to think before going full in with tongue. It was so sloppy and forceful from the start that it was no wonder he couldn’t find the strength in him to do much except bare it. Not that the holst was complaining, exploring his mouth as she moaned and groped his body, feeling his muscles, his shoulders. After an indescribably long time, which was really just two minutes, she pulled back, leaving a saliva trail between, then the farmer there dumbstruck as Gwen merrily walked over to the kitchen.
The rest of the day would not prove any easier for him. He didn’t dare look over at her while she made those pancakes, but even then, he knew it would be but a temporary respite. And he tried, he really did, to focus on the food before him, but those exaggerated moans she made shallowing her share had a devious effect on him, as did the way her tongue coiled around the food. Her hands would wander to his body all too often, gilding their fingers over like they were dancers’ legs, a lingering fizz wherever they touched. She was greedy as a goat with their food for kisses, and even though Cole always started with ‘no more for today’, she got her wish regardless, and he felt himself a little weaker against it with every new one.
That musk she’d had for a while now had only gotten stronger, impossible to avoid. Irresistible for the nose, his nose hairs tickled with the sweaty pheromones, commanding his attention, piercing his brain with thoughts that he could scarcely believe he could produce. A salivation over those breasts, struggling against the fabric containing it, sweat shining in the sunlight like a ripe fruit, the milk dripping still such it seemed to tempt him with its taste, calling for him to suck and gulp it and listen to her passionate mooing. Cole was having done to him what he’d unintentionally been doing to Gwen for the last couple of weeks and he could barely handle it.
‘Breed her.’ His mind called. ‘Breed her. You are ready for her. She’s ready for you. And you’re aching. Fill her head with white and her lungs with ecstatic screams. Drown her eggs in sem*n. Remind her who is cow and who is bull.’
He made those thoughts disappear, hard as it was to do so, but his erection he could only hide. Not that Gwen complained. No, she gawked at it with excitement she wouldn’t bother managing, pooling all her effort to not jump his bones immediately and make sure they both wouldn’t be able to stand for the day. She wanted it to last a little longer, seeing this monument of meat that would make her pregnant without question, feeling the syrupy joy of awaking such arousal from her hubby, the tingle of her top’s satin against her aching nipples, the incessant clenching of her entrance. Her embarrassment was dead in the water, no space for it in Gwen’s lusting mind between the admiration of his breeding tool, the lip-biting anticipation of so much goop it would leak out her poor little puss*, the dog-panting images of being treated like a ragdoll to be tossed around for his bestial desires…
Gwen was leading him to the stairs. Cole wasn’t sure why, for every word she spoke had sounded like some innuendo, making him unable to really hear her over the parts of her that would soothe the thumping in his groin. Such was it he had lacking focus, making it natural that he wobbled on the first step, then slammed Gwen along with himself into the wall, arms at either side of her head, faces so close their breaths mixed together. Her mammaries mushed against his firm chest to their owner’s delight, the milk trickling down it with an almost ticklish sensation. His boner touched her tummy, every prod making her gasp. This was a mistake, but the farmer didn’t move to fix it. He seemed content gazing into daring eyes as she did into his wide ones, feeling her heat. If her ability to speak hadn’t been stolen, she’d probably be clasping her hands around his head, and tell him her mind; an endless repetition of ‘get me pregnant.’
Coles was much the same. More arousal than he’d ever felt throughout all his life coursed through him. He wanted her so bad it hurt. He wanted her to feel like she’d become his wife all over again. He wanted her to bear his child. And yet…when he focused on the thought of having a child, of being a father, he faltered. The urge to mate with her was still overwhelming, but he couldn’t get over that hurdle, no matter how much he wanted to homerun caution out of the park. He wasn’t ready to be father. No, he couldn’t ever be a father, he wouldn’t ever be ready. Perhaps it was less himself thinking this and rather more the versions of his parents telling him such, but the point remained that, as small it started, it grew and grew until it snuffed whatever lust there was. Gwen noticed this, the panic that comes from being so close yet so far making stammering attempts to keep him on her, but it was already too late. He removed himself from her, guilty and uneasy, facing away.
“S-Sorry.” The farmer apologized in a small voice. “A-Ah didn’t know…what came over me. S-So sorry t’ mislead you or s-somethin’, b-but ah guess ah’m s-still not ready- “
“Stop that right now, Cole. I know you’re lying.”
He froze. ‘That isn’t Gwen’s voice…’ Was his immediate thought. ‘It sounds like her, but only a bit. Who…Who is behind me?’
He, somewhat hesitantly, turned around, only to meet…….Gwen. Which was natural, because it was Gwen speaking, only that she’d completely lost her accent. She – that is, the whole of her being, spiritually and biologically – wasn’t in the mood to keep doing it.
“You don’t have to lie. I know you want me. I know that you love me. It’s quite silly to keep acting as if you don’t want to f*ck me hard enough to sear your genes into my constitution such that even in the impossible event of me birthing another’s child, it’d still be blood related to you. Do it. Do it now.”
Her tail was wagging hardcore, her ears drooping, her voice a facsimile of kindness, sounding as though she’d be screaming if she wasn’t restraining herself. A primal instinct caused him to step backwards.
“There. There. Again, you do another mistake. Forwards, not backwards. Never backwards. You should be doing nothing but going forwards, towards me. If you so much inch your lifted leg away from me…well, I don’t think I have room for more mistakes. Come now. Come to me. It’s easy if you try.”
She said that, smiling at him. Her face wouldn’t’ve been as bloodcurdling as it was if she hadn’t.
“…G-Gwen, you, you’re scarin’ me- “
“Well, you shouldn’t be. Considering all you’ve done, it’s offensive to think you’ve the right to be scared. The fact we’re even talking right now is a courtesy, a tad too generous one I’d say, even, considering how wasted words are on you.”
“……sh*t, a, ah’m sorry, it’s, u-um…do you hate me now?”
“…Ha…ha ha… ah ha ha. Really, now? Me, hate you? No, I love you. I love you. I love you so much it’s crossed into the realm of being able to hate you, and then back again. Everything about you…I love. Your shyness, your dependability, your abs, your eyes, your voice, there isn’t a single thing about you I don’t love. I’m just wondering why you insist on torturing me, and yourself, like this.”
“W-Wha, what do you-?”
Her smile got wider. It was already too wide before that.
“You really don’t get it, do you? You’re the one who’s built me into this…this…biological weapon, ready to explode at any second. As the only one who knows how to defuse me, take responsibility. Otherwise, it’ll be too late.”
“L-Look, ah’d love to, ah’d really love to, but- “
“No, that isn’t going to work anymore. Trust me, I understand you have your reasons, but put yourself in my hooves here. Do you know how long I’ve been stewing in this heat? Do you want to hear how vulgar my desires have gotten? Do you even understand how it feels to be teased for this long? I’ve been a good girl, a very good girl, who even now that seeing how you breathe is making me close to squirt is still trying to be patient, but even I have my limits. Either you or I make that holding back disappear, and if it’s you, make it quick.”
She was grinding her hooves into the floor as she lowered her head. The green of her eyes peered at him, even behind the shadow of her hair.
“This’ll be your final opportunity. Run at me, take me, fill me with that virile man-meat that I can smell is as eager as I am, pumping so much essence into me I become cumdumb and have to be led by your co*ck for the rest of my life. And if you don’t…well, I’ll do what I should’ve done for so long.”
Cole didn’t say anything, simply walking backwards with hands raised, attempting to make himself as little of a threat as possible. Gwen merely continued to lower her head as she grided her hooves. He kept facing her even as he slowly opened the door and walked out. Only when he gently closed it did he turn around to run like hell, the crushing of wood and a brutal moo sounding not too far behind him.
***************************************************************************************
In the village, things were as usual, that is to say, peaceful. Uncomplicated people going about their uncomplicated lives in uncomplicated ways, hand in hand with fellow man and monster. Except, today, there was something. A sound, most unlike they’d ever heard before. Naturally, the monsters, with their superior hearing, picked up on it before the humans, but it wasn’t long before they could too, so loud was it. The whole of the town made a silent agreement to check it out, and met where the sound seemed to be loudest. It didn’t take long for them see the source; a Mr. and Mrs. Galloway, the former being chased by the galloping latter.
“COLE!! GET BACK HERE COOOLLLLEEEE!!!” She shrieked like a woman possessed, so bestial it could be mistaken for the monstrous bloodlust of old, rather than the other kind of lust. “YOU CAN’T HIDE, YOU CAN’T RUN, I WON’T ALLOW YOU TO, COOOLLLEEEE!!!!”
While the general idea about monster-human martial disputes was to let them fix themselves, the townsfolk couldn’t help but be concerned at this.
“Should we help, or something?”
“It’s like she’s a rabid minotaur…”
“Is she trying to kill him?”
“Poor guy.”
“I’m worrying if all of us don’t even have the strength to hold her back…”
“ONE YEAR AND TWO MONTHS, HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME WAIT SO LONG!! I WON’T STOP UNTIL YOU MAKE UP FOR IT COOOLLLLEEEEE!!!”
“What a bastard, that Cole!”
“Serves him right.”
“Yeah, you go girl, f*ck that piece of meat into next week!”
“If you want privacy, the barn to the far right of here should be a good choice!”
“You shouldn’t even have a wife if that’s how you treat her.”
And then everybody went back to what they doing.
***************************************************************************************
The arable farmer hacked and wheezed as though he learned how to breathe for the first time, leaning against the wall inside an empty barn as he couldn’t trust himself to stand, hoping to the Chief Goddess on high that he’d lost her. There was no need to tell you he did not. Just when he thought he could stand again, he heard galloping behind him, and there was only enough time to turn around before he had to crouch down as Gwen’s horns made cracks in the wall, cornering him with a twitching smile and wide eyes.
“…Haah…Haah…Theereee you areee…~”
Wet spots formed on his shirt from the rain of natural nutrition, getting all over as her massive cow meat bounced deliciously from the force, threating to jiggle out into full view with how that overstrained crop-top struggled to keep them where they were. It mixed with the perspiration, the stuff on faster generation from the aftermath of her crazed dash. Consequently, the scent of hers had gotten even more powerful, to the point it’d became the type of stuff that buys real estate in the mind. Remaining in the nose even apart. Titillation brainwash. It was so thick and potent; Cole wasn’t sure most knives could cut it. What he was sure of, however, was that scent was the distillation of her libido, near-chocking him as the fumes of Gwen made a blanket of overpowering sexuality over his face. It was practically handjobbing his co*ck itself. The farmer’s breath picked up the more it stood up, certain in what would happen at full mast. Yet, try as he might, it eventually made a small bop on her hotpants.
It took a second for Gwen to register the sensation, focused as she was on the sight of him cowering down, nervousness evident within his face. He looked so small, like a doll she could just pick up and play with, and the thought kept her staring, kept her squirming. So, when she felt that bop, she froze. Disorderly like an expelled healthcare assistant her thought patterns were, making it such that even though she’d called him on his pent-up desires, she was acting like they’d just now been exposed after a long time of him hating her. Her face slowly lit up, breath picking up a dangerous amount, frenetic giggles sounding.
“Aaah,haah,ahhahah, I knew it I knew it, I knew you loved me! You want to assault me forever and ever!! Ohhhh, I love you; I love you so much!! You have to have your mind drenched in cow milk, you deserve to have my hips slap against you wantonly and hear me shamelessly moo!!”
“Gwen, honey, please!” He said, shielding his face with his arms. “Calm down, calm down, just calm down-!”
The holst didn’t hear him, entranced in her own bliss as she was. “I can’t wait for all the cervix-kissing, sweaty, hip-slapping breeding sex!” She cried, forcing his arms apart with emasculating ease. “How could you deny me this glorious mating co*ck?! THE NERVE OF YOU, COLE!! Did you think I wasn’t willing to have my womb worship every nook and cranny of this juicy impregnator, bouncing and moaning till you and my nipples dry-fire, pounding my puss* into the perfect shape to have every shot shoot straight into my eggs for total chance of a baby bump, breaking me into screaming unconsciousness?!! Oh, but you were shy…you were shy! That’s so adorable, so cute, cute, cuteee! It’s okay, it’s all okay, I don’t hate you, it’s scary, it’s real scary, I know, I know, but Gwen will show you, she’ll pamper you and snuggle you and love you until you go splurt-splurt, show you that you never have to afraid of getting big over mommy’s soft curves and jiggly boobs!!”
Fantasies running together, working on pure dopamine and adrenaline, Gwen nevertheless moved her hand to his pants like the jaws of an alligator. Naturally, it and his underpants tore with the greatest of ease, but Cole’d only the smallest window to be gesturing and complaining about his favorite pants being destroyed, for her lipstick-slick lips had pressed against his forehead, impressing a wet, fuzzy sensation and a maroon mark. One was already very distracting, but the holstaur was far from done, moving all around his head, leaving pecks every area as though she wanted to smear off all her cosmetic on him. The *smeck* of her glossy lips continuously caressed his eardrums, the soft noise already being something he associated with martial joy leaving him too flustered to string a coherent sentence. ‘Cute…so cute…’ she muttered as she peppered him with kisses, in a daze where she could only communicate through lipstick.
Even so, she didn’t forget his manhood. She probably wasn’t able to. But she was too frazzled in the head, too overcome by a need of gratification, her hands which caressed his face, groped his body eagerly, couldn’t tear themselves away from the electrolyzing feel his body leaked into hers. Nevertheless, it was no problem. For she still had her legs.
Without consciously trying to, her powerful thighs maneuvered around his erect co*ck, fitting it in nice and snug. In her fantasy, she was thinking she needed to make him as ready as she was while not daring to lose the sensation at her fingertips for even a second. The reality, one Gwen was still, if only vaguely, aware of, was that Cole couldn’t be harder even if he tried, which was ironic, because the situation currently happening made him think the opposite should happen, but didn’t. He really wasn’t sure how he should feel being bulldozed like so hardened his rod, contrasting the holst, who knew exactly how she felt.
But it wasn’t like it mattered. It didn’t matter why she was rambling to herself ‘we need to get you ready, big sis will teach you.’ at the same time she went ‘look how hard you are, you can’t hide it, you shouldn’t hide your love from me, and I won’t’; the forefront was his upper body painted with chestnut color, the lower body getting a thigh-job that’d make most monster-haters turncoat in fifteen minutes.
Her gushing fanny helped make the naughty act quite naughtier, vulgar squelching mixing with the kisses and panting, another layer upon the pleasure of her moving her thighs back and forth as if she’d trained to work her sturdy legs on his pole her whole life, finding the perfect sweet-spot between trying to make him cum immediately and letting him ride the edge. It was completely impossible to halt Cole from panting at her melting heat messaging his dick to and fro, to and fro.
“Aww, look at you, blushing and panting for me~!” The holst said peeking out from her perfectly big, juicily fat, milky tit*, squeezing them against him as she continued putting her legs to good use. “That deserves a kiss…~”
He didn’t hear her, having managed to wrestle some attention in his struggle into trying to reason with her. The sum of his efforts was half a ‘hey’ before it turned to a chocked squeak as she pressed her mouth against his with adoring fervor. Her tongue made him hesitate, her smell made him forget, her excited breath on his cheek distracted him, until the count of words totaled to none.
“You knooooww…you’re being so good to me, already winning back a lot of points……But it’s not enough. I can’t take much more of this empty feeling- of not having your co*ck in my mouth, reminding me of my duty to slobber it stupid so I can take your fat log for as long as you want, until I get rewarded with your gooey, sticky milk! And I can’t last feeling so incomplete without it stretching out my needy little c*nt! I have to be bouncing and moaning on it, showing what a dutiful whor* cow wife I can be, until you’ve had enough and push me down and bully my puss* with every hot shock your jackhammer trusting sends, shocking my brain until I’m more tit* than IQ, making me your dumb, co*ckhungry breeding peeeetttt~♡♡!!”
The farmer had the option to speak, but he was stunned. Propriety had gone the way of her accent, possibly her logic too, considering she was domming him while speaking all the things he would make her do as a sub. It honestly scared him how much lust had mushed her brains. Turned him on a little too, but he didn’t really feel all that proud of that. Gwen, wanting to chase that heat to infinity, unclamped her thighs, and moved down slowly, almost reverentially, to be face-to-penis, smiling and drooling.
“Here you areeeee…♡ So glorious, so thick, I have to show it proper love…”
Without much pause, she shoved her face into the hard thing, taking a big sniff, filling her nose with his masculine scent. The stimulations were too much, with the knowledge how close she was after being denied so long, and she squirted right there, arching her back and mooing in happiness as her c*nt tingled with pleasure. Eventually she put her head back down in his lap, his co*ck pressing against her cheek while she leered lewdly at him.
“L..Look, l-look, look!” Tried the flushed Cole, trying to look at and away from her face. “Calm down first, w-we need t’ calm down n’, n’- there’s work w-w-we gotta finish-!”
Gwen was unperturbed by his speech. “But surely we can’t expect to do any work with this big distraction…♡”
Feather-touch fingers lovingly ran over that stick leaking pre made his body flinch from shivers, her smiling expression growing just a little lewder.
“Your voice is so, so, so cute, so don’t hide a thing~♡ Just let your loyal cowwhor* milk alllllllll that tension away…”
With deliberate slowness, she lowered even more. Cole started with no idea, but as it became clearer, his heart couldn’t help racing harder, until culminating with a chocked moan as the holst gave a wet kiss on his testicl*s.
“Mwah~♡ Mwah~♡ Ooooh, I can feel all the needy sperms swimming in your fat balls… Mmmmnnn~♡ Smells so damn good… It would a shame to keep them inside, when they’re itching to come out and play. Come on, let me show them my appreciation…♡”
She continued to kiss his hairless nuts, smothering every inch with kiss marks. One of her hands nimbly snaked up, grasped his pole, working her hand up and down while her mouth had progressed to caressing them with her tongue, sometimes straight up taking them in her mouth. Obscene sounds echoed ceaselessly as the sweat kept rolling and the smell of sex got more fragrant. Relative to her current behavior, she was calm with her actions, yet no less dedicated in her worship. She didn’t let up for a minute, continuously sucking or kissing or swallowing his sack, routinely changing her methods with pitch perfect timing, showering them with affection that shot on a racetrack course to his brain, fuzzing it up and making it hard to think. Cole kept trying to speak, but all he could hiss out every time he attempted, was Gwen’s name, rousing her passions even more, and with it, her enthusiastic serving.
Following typical physiology, her actions would bring him closer to org*sm, and he could feel the dam cracks begin to widen. “Gwen…!” He gambled on getting out, not wanting to stain Gwen’s face. “Ah, ah don’t think ah can hold-!”
“YOU’RE NOT!!”
The pressure which she grasped his penis with, in the background of the smooth pleasure of seconds before, hit him with force that left no recourse but to sound an embarrassing gasp, bending his head back. When he looked back, genuine anger filled her green eyes, twisted her freckled face.
“This naughty co*ck…It thinks after going so long without pumping thick baby batter straight into my womb, it can just cum outside and waste it while we’re still getting ready!? Does it believe it can do whatever it wants, like the corrupt ambassador with his extraterritorial rights?!”
He wanted to tell her the furious grip she’d been having on his dick might crush it, but even her harshness made him drool with pleasure, himself possibly enjoying it more if not for the intimate fears being the devil on his back. Yet, her own features softened with love quick as a magpie when they catch something glinting, speaking gently to that ‘naughty co*ck’, as she dubbed it.
“…But you’re still part of my precious husband, so, can I really hate you? No, I can’t. Not when you have this thickness…”
She moved closer, ‘smeck’-ing another kiss on it with her lips. It wasn’t fast about it, yet Cole still wasn’t prepared for it.
“…This glorious length…”
Another lipstick mark on his sensitive surface, and another gasp from the farmer.
“…This yummy precum…”
She kissed right where a line dribbled down, making it just a little harder to keep the main cum from escaping.
“…This fat head…”
Yet another kiss on the area described. Except, this time, she didn’t stop at one. Seemingly lost in her own world, she peppered his vulgar organ with many colored marks, entranced by its taste, holding endless love for it. It didn’t take long before it was fully marked, and Gwen pulled back to admire her handiwork.
“Unph. There’s a fitting look. All properly marked and worshipped…♡ A fat, stallion member like yours deserves nothing less~♡”
Cole didn’t really match his wife’s smile, looking confused and slightly insulted. “A-Are you?” He began, influenced perhaps slight from the fact he’d been feeling close to the boiling point for a while. “Are you mockin’ me, or something? W-Why are you comparin’ me to an animal that org*sms in like two minutes?”
“Oh, sorry.” Replied Gwen, briefly snapping to her usual self. “Ah guess ah got caught in the moment n’ didn’t think ‘bout what ah was sayin’, haha.”
Most unlucky(?) for the arable farmer, however, the previous glint returned as quickly as it vanished.
“Let me apologize~♡♡.”
Cole didn’t have time for half a ‘wait’ until the holstaur’s lips touched the head of his meat pole, clamped on it, then went past. As if a snake of revelry coiled around there, her tongue was already in overdrive, lathering every itch with desperate amounts of saliva. Her throat worked hard also, constricting in all the right ways, an overtly lewd sight, seeing Gwen wolfing down that penis, leaving lipstick rings around every new stratum she’d descended to. Once reaching the base, she’d do her darndest to keep herself there, taking in the meat even as her mascara leaked alongside her tears of effort, looking every bit as whorish as her pent-up desires had made her become.
The problem was, however, that it was too good. She massaged his manhood with skill and enthusiasm where the former lacked, a wild assault were keeping it in proved an impossibility. As such, it wasn’t long before, time sparing not even seconds of warning, he burst in her mouth. Surprise quickly became disbelief, then irritation. The taste was immaculate but she could not stand it, dislodging it from her mouth with a *pop*, crying: “This won’t do! Not yet!”
Pausing for nothing, the holst hooked her fingers under either side of the crop-top, and in one movement, those ginormous jugs flopped out, bouncing in what Gwen hoped was erection inducing ways before settling. Cole wheezed for cranial air, legs exhibiting less consistency than bread dough without water. The tingles of post-org*sm simmered hardcore in his pelvic area, yet he wasn’t allowed a moment to rest.
“If holstaur milk is as invigorating as it is, this has to work!”
She said this because she, after a quick handjob, was rubbing his co*ck on her boob, rolling her nipple over and on his glands, spilling milk over it. Once more, Cole was left speechless. The sensation of her breastflesh mushing into his penis contrasted heavily with that of the white liquid flowing over it, heightened to new levels from not coming down from climax. It bordered the line of pain and pleasure.
“G-Gwen…Gweeen! Pluh-please, gimme a, gimme a, a, pause…!”
“No way! Do you have any idea how good this feels? Your co*ck’s so hot, it’s like it’s trying to fuse with my boobs, so there’s no distance between it and them…How lovely~♡ And doesn’t it feel good for you too, experiencing all this supple titmeat, bathing in all this warm milk?”
He couldn’t lie. “Ye-yes, it does, it really does, nobody could make me feel like this but you.”
A smile, not a sexual one but more of a romantic, sweet one, painted her features for a moment, looking surprisingly bashful. The arable farmer hoped it’d be enough of an advantage to push.
“A-A-All ah’m askin’ as that ah g-get a little break-!”
“To run away and avoid me again?”
He couldn’t exactly deny that – it was precisely what half of him wanted to do, with the other wanting, almost desperately, to submit to her advances – so he merely looked away instead, an action he felt mildly pathetic doing.
“Sorry, but I’m not leaving this barn until I don’t need a secondary tool or person to tell me that I’m pregnant. I just have to make you ready again.”
The holstaur then jerked to the side, widening the opening of the cleavage and, warnings forgotten, mushed her breasts around that milk-soaked penis. Instantly, the pleasure of the sensitivity made his lap feel melty, and that was before she’d even moved them. When she did heft those succulent tit*, she didn’t think to do any gradual increase, leaving him to make stupid looking faces as his wife’s chest pumped his tingling skin.
The expressions he made were oh so cute, Gwen couldn’t help giggling, and the heat his tool seeped into her breasts was oh so luscious, she wanted to please it even more. Grasping her sides, it flattened out at the lowest, mushed upwards at the highest, spraying streams of milk all the while. Up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down. Every holstaur did not learn how to do titjobs as how butterflies do not learn how to fly, but that didn’t mean she wanted to slack off riding on instinct. Her enthusiasm was palpable – especially to Cole – as she moved those milkbags swallowing his member whole, not even needing to change up her loops with the amount of energy she was putting into it, dangerously close to having the man burst twice before getting to the ‘good part’, as she’d call it. However, she’d learned from her mistakes, and slowed down into stopping entirely when the farmer needed but a few strokes more to ejacul*te.
“How’s that? How you feeling? Niiice? Reaaady?”
“Hu- whu-what?” Said Cole, who despite his fears did not feel much better when Gwen’d stopped moving.
“Hmhm, I need to know if you’re ready, Cole.”
“G-Gwen, let’s, let’s stop…” Cole replied, more out of reflex than anything else. He wasn’t understanding how he felt. He could run, but his legs…It wasn’t as if they didn’t move, more that they didn’t want to. His wife’s face ran with leaking mascara, horns seeming sharper than ever, ears upright, smile dangerous – he looked at it and felt his heart pound, and daren’t think of what did it.
“Come ooonnnn, you’re leaking and squirming and blushing and and and and,” She shook her head to regain focus. “There’s no way you’re not ready! Don’t hesitate, just go for it! Be the bull you are~♡!”
Shyly, he looked away. “N-N-No, ah, ah cain’t…”
There was a pause. Then, Gwen had a look of manic smugness, cheeks raised to painful levels.
“Ah. Cowgirl understand. You’re that type of person, after all this time, huh…Well, that’s fine. That just makes you cuter~♡ I’ll just indulge you for a bit, and then you’ll indulge me, alrighty?”
So saying, she raised her hips to worrying levels, her hotpants flung to a far-off corner, vagin*l juices dripping onto his co*ck as though salivating. Her breath condensing despite the heat, fingers wriggling restlessly, eyes and toothy smile twitching; all signs of her rampant excitement – being frozen in it probably the only reason she didn’t embrace his manhood.
Too much, too much. Cole wasn’t ready. Maybe never would he ready be.
“Gwen, calm-!”
The cowgirl was more than. And nothing would stop her.
“Whoops~♡”
In one fluid motion, her entrance touched base, filling nice and snug and perfectly. No wonder he and she shrieked alike, a high moan and a sweet moo between them. What was the wonder was the arable farmer not cumming the second he made said noise, because the fruit farmer did, very hard.
“…You’re…in, me…haahha…hah, hah…this feeling…I’ve missed…this feeling…”
Her insides were already clenching ‘round that rod, seemingly wanting to hold it in place with love-pins even as their owner’s hips stood unmoving while she babbled to herself.
“…more…I need more…I need this feeling MORE! I NEED IT EVERY DAY AND HOUR, UNTIL MY HOLE AND LEGS CAN’T SHUT FROM THE PLEASURE!!!”
She began moving there, at first savoring every induvial feel of her walls bumping and grinding against his magnificent co*ck. Electricity spreading from the womb shot through her whole body, to the tips of her fingers, to the crown of her head, to the rim of her hooves, it all tingled in ways that washed the stress of denial away. Even when it played a trick on her by launching a biiiiiiiig jolt of pleasure that left her spasming briefly, she loved it so. Her happy little puss* was so giddy with joy at finally meeting her beloved once more, she could barely believe it was real, slowly entering him as she did to test if it was mirage or not.
“How does it feel, mmah~, being mounted like this, Cole~?!” She yelled, tearing open his shirt to grope shamelessly at his muscles. “You must be having a lovely time right now! Doesn’t it feel, huuua~, silly, to be so, so, so afraid of little ol’ me? So adorable, so goddamn adorable the way you, nmmmna~, wiggle and moan, huff and twitch, act like you don’t want this, aaaahhhhh so cuuuuteee~♡♡♡!”
Inevitably, she couldn’t be restrained for long. The endorphins of the monstrous body made her brain go haywire, too joyous to keep still, and sped up higher, making the arable farmer unintendedly hilt into her, consequently feeding into his wife’s sexual love. There was no grace in how she rode him, the sounds of squelching, the sight of her wantonly bouncing tit*, her dripping c*nt constantly making his overstimulated dick disappear and reappear, all of it made for an atmosphere that reinforced its naughtiness. Fear still simmered in him as she had him down on the floor with strength that could sling him over her shoulder, trying to breed with him. But, he couldn’t deny there was a thrill at being forced against his will, perhaps a relief over not needing to make the first move?
“I, ahan~, should’ve, nnnnmm~, just done, kyyyyuuaahah~, this, instead of, hyyuu~, waiting!! Clearly, clearly, you, nnnggmmm~, w-wanted, thismmmMOOOOO~♡♡!!”
If only for the sense of decency he wanted to refute her. But his lungs were crushed under the pleasure, stealing his speech. Such was it the only noise was the ‘plapping’ of their congress, intermixed with moans, groans and moos. And it felt wonderful, Cole couldn’t lie. Her soft little butt provided the perfect cushion as he experienced the position Gwen was most known for, smacking against his pelvis in an almost satisfying way. And the way her cervix took his length with perfect depth was simply magnificent, almost completely annulling his former fears, wanting more of that spine-tingling ecstasy.
Correspondingly, the cowgirl fought to make the whole of her vessel flare much harder with the shiver of coition. Thus, she could scarcely keep her hands still. Going beyond husband-chest-rubbing/groping was, she turned her attention toward a resembling fellow, that is, her own thoracic area.
Despite being pounded vigorously enough he couldn’t fathom much outside the thrill of it, Cole had rapt attention on his wife’s current doings. With her hands, she firmly grasped her own tit*, groping them with a sensuous moo, moving them, tugging them in whatever direction felt the best, which was more or less all of them. The holstaur couldn’t help it. Her body rewarded her – let’s be honest here – practically raping her hubby tenfold, her mind ground not even into a paste, a fine mist which clouded the thought patterns, demanding more happiness, more love, more pleasure. To be so greedy they wanted every part of themselves lecherously stimulated at all times was much unbecoming of Mrs. Galloway, but in the midst of said stimulation, they were well beyond caring. How lewd and aggressive she’d become was but another sign of love, she knew.
For the other half’s part, he was minding only a small bit, and that was habit more than anything. Her wanton assault upon her tit* was a sight that only sharpened his arousal, the clear passion in her face from the action helping that very much. Plus, since beginning the molestation, the straight rise-to-fall of her hips, already heavenly, had begun to take on angles, very suddenly disrupting the rhythm such that his natural defenses weakened, more electric heat creeping in through the cracks.
It wasn’t long before she’d transitioned into savagely pulling her nipples, shooting out jets of milk with a drooling, closed-eyed expression, sounding another moo out that, at this point, was very cute. She went for a look of his face, and although he wasn’t smiling as such, there was no denying he was being affected by their mating, submitting himself to the carnality, and, by extension, her. Undoubtably, she would pounce on him like this some other time, if only to see that face again. Her horniness virtually begged her to.
What her horniness likewise told her, was of a way for more pleasure. Wanting more that she’d ever gotten in all her life, she spared nary a second’s pause before acting. Grasping the underside of her boobs, she tilted them up conjointly as her head tilted down, until her mouth clamped down on those nipples. The taste of milk could only be called luscious, gushing forth in her oral cavity with such vigor there was not enough space, consequently making white lines slip out.
Gwen didn’t care. She felt like floating, her eyes crossing, leaning back to tug the twins more, the next plummet upon Cole making her squirt. Yet, she was a monster, that was not enough to stop her, hammering through her org*sm to feel his co*ck without end. For Cole – who was basically an incubus – this was still too much, and his heavy, grunting, hilting-into-her org*sm didn’t take much time to come.
But she didn’t stop. She was slowing, yes, but not stopping. In fact, she looked at the arable farmer becoming tired as an offense. ‘That won’t do!’ She yelled the second she no longer sucked her own tit*, and quickly moved to have him suck them instead. The surprise prevented him from immediately doing so, but he acquiesced eventually, suckling them like a baby. The momentum of everything did suddenly quiet then, the holst even bending down to pat him on the head, cooing as if some doting mother. It was nice, in a different way from everything else, but it’d barely started before it stopped, and Gwen drew back, speaking in tones wet with lust.
“How’s that? Feel energized?”
Cole paused for a bit, then nodded.
“Good! Good, good, good, gooood. Well, now that I’ve done my part, you do yours. Take me!”
He didn’t move, which didn’t please her. “I’m not in a waiting mood.” She reminded him.
“S-Sorry, it’s just, uh, takin’ ‘s already what we been doin’, so ah dunno what you mean, sorry.”
“…Hmph, and they call me a herbivore…Okay, you’re a strong boy, right? Strong enough to push me down and do what you’d want.”
“Well, regardless of visible muscle, monsters are on average stronger than- “
“Thanks for the trivia. You should be doing that. You should use me as your toy, your breeding whor*! I’ve been dreaming of being ravished by you so much, I can’t wait anymore! Take that thick branding iron and mark my insides! Make me your livestock! Do it! Do IT!!”
Her need was so powerful her body language could be mistaken as wanting to beat him to death instead. The arable farmer was suddenly aware neither words nor stalling would do any good, and, with some amount of panic, shoved her back. Probably because she was allowing it, Gwen fell like her weight was the same as a ballon, giggling shamelessly at her fantasy being fulfilled. Cole diligently chased after her, until he loomed over her in the missionary position. It was the first time in a while that his height over her could be felt, and that feeling was a clenching one in her passage, catching Mr. Galloway by surprise.
“You make the cutest faces, darling~♡ But this is no time to slow down. You have a heifer to f*ck~♡”
Not wanting to disappoint, he moved. It was slow and awkward, as Cole’d never really gotten too much experience in the matters of thrusting. Normally, the cowgirl would’ve been just as fine with that, but she couldn’t help feeling it wasn’t enough, speaking at the same moment he tried judging her reaction and was alarmed to find her scowling.
“Move faster.” Was her firm command. “Get really rough and wild with me. Pump into me like you don’t care whether or not I break.”
It still took some convincing, but his speed did get faster, his treks into her further, his force making her tit* bounce more in circles, until he could be said to be near-bestial. His weight rammed into her again and again and again, herself experiencing something akin to being almost squashed like a bug might, and she didn’t feel anything but masoch*stic joy at this penetration that seemed to ruin her hungry puss* so no thought of another co*ck would satisfy.
“Harder! HARDER! I won’t be able to live without your dick, so f*ck your big-titted cow slu*t hardeerrr~!!”
Cole held her legs to try. Even so, it was hard to steady oneself being milked by a cervix which appeared to be so enamored by its aggressor, it wanted to – quite fittingly – glue it still so there’d be no chance of escape. He powered through it, because his wife was making a face he’d never seen before, screaming his name like he’d never heard before, looking in such much joy that not keeping her so exuberant would be a waste. So, what the wife wants, the wife gets.
On that note, increasing his speed weren’t the only things she demanded. Every now and then, voice thick with passion, she’d yell instructions at him. Telling him to squeeze her milkbags like he was trying to make them pop. To grab her waist like he owned her. To deep-kiss her like he wanted her to be reminded of her place beneath him. To rub her cl*t as she was f*cked like he wanted her to lose her mind. She shrieked like a banshee all of the times he obediently fulfilled her sudden wants, and he was glad to see her silly, drooling, limp-tongued, shuttering, melting face impress into her features the more he met them, it was just…it felt weird, to be in this ostensibly dominant position yet be feeling like the submissive.
The thought didn’t hang long, not when his energy and attention was drained towards a singular point more and more, such that even the idea became thrilling fuel for climax. It was funny – neither he nor she had realized it, but Gwen’d done it. He’d forgotten the fear. The thought of impregnating her, seeing her with a baby bump, made him slobber, motivated him to trust into that pink canal even more furiously. If only in the moment, there was nothing but that feeling.
“Ouuah, I th-think I just felt you, mmmmm~, get a little bit harder inside m-me~ Well, do it! Get me, nnnnahhhhh~♡, pregnant, Cole! How could I- how could we ever survive one year, mmmmn~, and two months~?! I won’t be able to survive a day now without this amazing cooocckkkkk~♡♡!! So, kyuuahh~, fill me up with that essence! Flood my womb! Give me more, I won’t ever hAVE ENOUGH OF YOUR CUUUMMMMMMOOOOOOAAARRRGGGHGHHHHGH~♡♡♡!!!”
Her arms shot around her husband in a hug as she experienced another mind-melding climax, holding him so tight she threatened to break his spine. That extra push wasn’t even needed to have the throbbing reach its apex, violently exploding as he hilted inside her, some ancient instinct working overdrive so every little gob of white, sticky filling didn’t escape. And he came. Each time he’d thought himself spent; another torrent would need to be arrowed into her. A side-effect of the holstaur milk? Didn’t matter. What did, was making sure she didn’t spill. A. Drop.
Sooner or later, the physical limitations of the universe kicked in, and his testicl*s had no more to shoot out. Gasp, did the arable farmer. And sweat, all over his lover, whom rapidly inhaled also, cumdrunken expression etched onto her. He could feel everything in his body. He could feel their shared heartbeat. He could feel the pleasant afterglow of ejacul*tion numb him slightly. And he could feel the reality of what he’d done kick in. Surprisingly, there was no grand horror to be found. Merely a sensation that could be best expressed by the sound of a ‘huh’.
But more than those other things, he felt tired. What he wouldn’t do to be in a bed now. So, he moved to remove himself, and was instantly pulled back.
“What’re you planning now?”
“Uhhh,” said Cole, smiling with slight nervousness. “l-leavin’…? Ah, ah thought we was done- “
“Why would you even think that? You haven’t fixed me yet, Cole!”
“Ummm, ah dunno, ah thought- “
“You thought wrong! Four c*mshots?! YOU THINK THAT’S ENOUGH FOR A YEAR AND TWO MONTHS?!!”
“Okay, honey, ah’m sorry-!”
In one movement, she’d laid him flat on his back without needing to unmount him.
“Sorry is not going to cut it! Only insemination will! Here!”
Shoving her breasts into his face, she forced him to drink more holstaur milk.
“Now you’re good to go! And WE’RE GOING UNTIL I SAY WE’RE DONE!!”
It was only now Cole thought ‘…ah’ve really messed up, haven’t ah…?’
***************************************************************************************
A familiar ceiling, unfamiliar pain. That is what the arable farmer woke up to. To describe his body as ‘feeling sore all over’ would be putting it lightly. Thankfully, somebody had been kind enough to escort him into his bed, so there was that. Now, it was just a matter of figuring out why he was here. A gap in his memory left him with nothing but vagueness to play with, however. And just when he’d felt like something’d been unearthed, the opening of the door interrupted his thoughts.
“Ah thought ah heard you get up. How you feelin’, honey?”
It was Gwen. She was clad in her usual work attire, wearing her usual kind smile, no trace of the Gwen who’d raped him so fiercely remained. Even her accent had returned. ‘Maybe it’s like how it is with chimps’, thought a still-drowsy Cole. ‘Like how them smiling is a warning, so is her lacking accent…’
“Honestly? Like ah’ve been trotted on, several times. We really did it the whole day?”
“Um, no, not a day…”
“Well, what then?”
“At least more than twenty-four hours.” Said Gwen, moving over and pulling up a chair to sit beside him. “N’ ah lost count of the number of ejacul*tions somewhere in those hours. Only thing ah’m sure of is that ah’m pregnant, no matter how you slice it.”
Silence followed after that. The arable farmer was too focused on letting that sink in, so the holstaur was the one breaking the silence first.
“…Ah….Ah’m sorry, Cole.”
Her hands were in her lap as she said that, looking at the floor. Her regretful tone made Cole turn to her with a “hm?”
“You, you might’ve heard ‘bout how it is with holstaurs. N’ ah tried to keep it controlled, cuz ah know how it is with you, n’ ah didn’t wanna hurt you, but it was jus’ too stron- no, ah cain’t say it like that. Ah was too weak to handle it. So, ah’ll understan’ if you wanna blame me for tha- “
“Gwen.” Said Cole, sitting up to touch her shoulder despite the pain. “There’s no need to look so sad. Ah don’t blame you.”
She froze for a bit, before cautious looking up at him. “…You don’t blame me?” Did she ask, obvious from the tone she hadn’t expected him to ever say that.
“Not one bit. Ah mean, ah did…”
He paused, losing his words. He spoke again in a small voice, blushing, scratching the back of his neck.
“…ah did…enjoy that a…bit too much t’ say…ah’d hate you for it, or anythin’…ah guess.”
She blinked at him. And it wasn’t long before a smile appeared, too.
“Oh, really? That’s good t’ know. But don’t worry, you can jus’ ask, n’ you won’t have to wait another year n’ two months for the next one~”
“A-Anyway!” He blurted in way that made Gwen giggle. “So, ah guess it’s true, now. Ah’m gonna be a father. It’s weird. It’s somethin’ ah’ve been wantin’, but also dreadin’, for the better part of life. Yet, now that it’s here…ah’ve no idea how to feel about it. Do you know, Gwen?”
“Nope, got no clue how to feel ‘bout bein’ a mother. Maybe it’ll hit me later, but now, if ah had to describe it, it’s…acceptance, ah guess?”
They paused again, apparently having run out of things to say. After a while of contemplating, Cole turned back to Gwen to ask her something.
“Hey, honey?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Do you think ah’ll be a good dad?”
“Ah dunno, really. What do you think?”
He gave the question some actual thought, though it wasn’t long before he reached an answer.
“………Ah think ah’ll be fine, long as you’re there with me.”
She began to mirror his gentle smile.
“Ah think the same.”
THE END
