Milked for the Holidays

I’m not sure how men on Earth handle post-sex interactions, but men on my planet don’t typically indulge in just lying around. There’s always some work to be done or something to attend to. However, the more I’m with Jessica, the more I find myself craving this closeness.

Unfortunately, there are still things that have to be done. As much as I want to lie in bed all day, she needs to be fed and properly milked. I can’t let my desire for intimacy end with her becoming unwell.

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CHAPTER 21

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JESSICA

The moment Vrokjan pulls out of me, I know something is wrong. Unfortunately, I have no words for what it might be. My body is sore, achy as he disengages.

Perhaps that’s to be expected, though? This is the first time he’s actually had sex with me, and the pounding was quite intense. Lazy days out in the field certainly didn’t prepare me for such a workout.

Shaking my head, I yell at my brain, telling it to shut up and let me enjoy what had just happened. Not only did I have an explosive orgasm, Vrokjan held me afterward, without any prompting. My heart swells as I watch him walk to the bathroom so he can clean up.

Frissons of arousal zip through my body as I lie there, his cum dripping from me. Part of me figured sex with him would be hot and explosive, but I wasn’t prepared for the sheet-gripping, leg-shaking, full-body experience he put me through.

Unfortunately, no one on Earth was ever able to make me come like that. And if I go back, no one will be able to compare. How do the other cows do it? How do they just choose to go back when all their needs are met here?

With a sigh, I turn over onto my side and stare out the large window. The suns climb into the sky, casting their golden rays onto the beautiful Ovibrosia quivering in the breeze. It’s only been two weeks, and already I feel as if this could be my home.

Besides, what else do I have left? A shaft of guilt spears me, gutting me as I force myself to remember what I left behind. I had a thriving career, an ancestral home I had to figure out what to do with, but more than that, my independence.

I could do what I wanted when I wanted. Even now, as I watch Vrokjan stride back into the room, I know it’s because he’s going to take me to the bathroom. On Earth, I had privacy, autonomy, and for God’s sake, I could eat meat.

Silly how such a small thing means so much now. I’ll never taste lasagna again, never be able to recreate my mother’s recipes. Grass and Ovibrosia are my foreseeable future.

My gut clenches as Vrokjan attaches the leash to my collar. It’s Pavlovian at this point. The moment I hear the snap of metal against metal, my bladder gets an intense need to empty itself.

Following behind, I lower myself onto the grass pad. It’s still embarrassing, especially seeing how Vrokjan reacts to watching me, but the humiliation has lessened as the days have gone by.

We’ve found a rhythm here, depraved as it is. As I hunch down, bracing for the warm spray, my eyes spark with unshed tears. Most of the time, I can keep the depression at bay, but for some reason, it’s far more difficult today.

My legs burn and quiver as I wait for him to finish, nearly collapsing as the weakness encroaches. This time, I can’t even manage to stand. Instead, I crawl on all fours back into the bedroom, groaning as I struggle to get back into the bed.

Vrokjan gazes down at me, a frown marring his face. “I rode you hard today, pretty cow. Perhaps I should let you stay in bed instead of taking you to the pasture. You’ve certainly earned a rest.”

Rest. That’s what I need. Just some more sleep. If I can just close my eyes, everything will feel better. I know it. He pats my head and drifts away as my body feels like lead on the bed.

Soon, he brings the tubes over and drains the rest of my milk, allowing me to catch my first full breath of the day. It’s amazing how having massive, milk-filled breasts affects so much.

He draws the blanket over me, not bothering to put the tail back in. I guess today really will be a day of rest for me. As the sounds of his footsteps fade away, my mind drifts onto topics I really shouldn’t be thinking about.

My mom’s face drifts in and out, hazy but familiar. It’s like a warm hug cocooning me. Tears fall, scalding my face as I burrow into the pillow. Despite it being months since she passed, I never really mourned her. Why now? Why when I should be basking in the afterglow of an amazing orgasm?

Exhausted, I drift off into a fitful sleep. Heat engulfs my body as nightmares drill into my brain. Everything hurts. Everything aches. Everything is just too damn much.

I wish so desperately to be a cow again. I don’t want to think or feel. I want to just be. The alternative hurts too much. I don’t care if it means giving up my identity. It takes away the pain and gives me something else to focus on.

Besides, if I want to keep lying to myself, I can tell my brain that giving Vrokjan my milk means providing this farm with a means to support itself. I’m useful, even if it’s not the way I used to define it. More than that, by staying on Icora, that’s one less woman to endure the transformation.

Vrokjan will no longer need to find a pet, a woman whose soul will be consumed by the fire of his passion. Groaning, I twist and turn as the ramifications pelt me from all angles. I’m taking the easy way out, but right now, I just don’t care.

Forcing my eyes open, I glance over at the small table beside the bed and see my breakfast and a large container of water. I know my Rancher wants me to eat something, but I just can’t bring myself to do it.

The very idea of putting food in my stomach causes bile to rise in my throat, nearly choking me. Maybe if I can rest, I’ll have some later. But for now, all I want to do is drift into oblivion where nothing can hurt me. Even myself.

Pain lances through my body, forcing my eyes to part. My vision is blurred, hazy, but the brightness of the sun lets me know it’s near time for my milking. Vrokjan should be here soon to relieve me.

Reaching around, I cup my breasts, moaning as the discomfort grows. I’m so tight, so swollen. My nipples are hardened peaks of agony as I squeeze them, hoping to find some modicum of relief.

Milk spurts out, soaking the sheet beneath me, but it doesn’t help. The more I try to milk myself, the more my sobs ring out into the room. My skin is hot, on fire, as I try to squeeze my breasts themselves to get the milk out.

If I can just take the edge off, I’ll be okay until Vrokjan gets back. Whimpers claw at my throat as I look out the window, desperate for a glimpse of his muscular body coming out from the fields. But he never does.

Frantic, I move to sit up, to see if someone downstairs can either help or tell me where my Master is. The instant I move, dizziness forces me back down to the bed. I clutch my stomach as nausea rolls through me.

I’m sick. There’s no doubt about it. My hand trembles as I bring it up to my face to feel my blazing cheeks. My joints ache as my muscles clench and jerk. Tears roll down my cheeks in earnest as misery twists and contorts my body.

Desperate, I moo as loud as I can, but it’s a soft sound that barely makes it past my lips. I keep trying, but it makes no difference. Curling in on myself, I force my eyes to close.

Perhaps if I just lie still, I’ll be okay? Visions flash before my eyes as I rock back and forth, the pain nearly unbearable. The blue tones of Vrokjan’s skin interpose themselves on men I’ve worked with in the law firm, turning them grotesque.