Chapter 14: Milking the Pregnant Pet

The playroom corner hummed with quiet anticipation under the soft overhead lights, the full-length mirror already angled to capture every angle of the padded breeding bench. Emma knelt before it on all fours, the rounded dome of her belly hanging low and full between her arms, skin stretched smooth and faintly luminous from the changes her body had embraced. Milk had begun to bead freely at her nipples now, tiny glistening drops that formed without warning and trailed slow paths down the heavy curves of her breasts. She watched her reflection, cheeks warming as another droplet swelled and fell. They’re preparing for him ... my body is turning itself into his personal supply while his child grows inside me, and the ache of it makes me want to offer everything.

Marcus moved with deliberate calm behind her, the larger tail plug still seated deep from the night before, its fluffy length swaying gently against the backs of her thighs with every shift of her weight. He wheeled the compact milking machine into place beside the bench—a sleek device with clear tubing and soft silicone cups that gleamed under the light. The faint mechanical hum filled the air as he powered it on, a low, rhythmic pulse that promised release of a different kind. “First real milking today, puppy,” he said, voice rich and steady, the same measured tone that had guided her through every surrender. “Your breasts have been getting ready for me. Let’s see how beautifully they give.”

He helped her settle onto the bench in modified doggy, a thick supportive pillow cradling the firm swell of her belly to keep it safe and elevated. The position arched her back naturally, presenting her leaking breasts downward while the mirror reflected the full view: collar snug at her throat, tail swaying between spread thighs, nipples already glistening. Marcus adjusted the machine’s arms, fitting the warm cups over each breast with careful precision. The soft silicone sealed around her sensitive peaks, and the suction began—gentle at first, then steady, drawing rhythmic tugs that made her gasp. Warm milk flowed in thin streams into the clear tubing, the sight of it captured perfectly in the mirror as her reflection showed her lips parting in a soft, stunned moan.

The sensation was unlike anything she had known. Each pull felt like a deep, insistent draw that tugged straight to her core, releasing pressure she hadn’t realized had built. Milk sprayed in delicate arcs inside the cups, the machine’s hum syncing with the faint wet sounds of extraction. Her walls fluttered around the plug, a helpless response that made her thighs tremble. It’s pulling me open from the inside out ... my milk is flowing for him while I’m plugged and displayed, and I’m leaking between my legs like I need to be fucked while he harvests me.