Mega Milkers

“You love your life here on the farm” the female voice spoke calmly and rhythmically.

“You live for the touch of your handler. Your Mistress.”

“You will obey her, always. You will follow the orders of every stable Mistress.”

“The sound of my voice is making you hard. Your seed swells. Your body is ablaze with desire. You want desperately to touch yourself, but you will not. That cock is no longer yours. It belongs to the farm. Only your handler and Mistress can grant you relief.”

“Obedience will bring joy. Disobedience will be punished.”

Byron opened his eyes. The night time conditioning messages continued playing in his ears, despite the sun shining through his room’s single window. He sat up, the cow bell attached to his collar rattling as he righted himself. Byron pulled the ear buds away and set them in one of the small cubbies located at the head of his bed. He turned off the audio player and listened to the birds chirping just outside his window.

It was another day on the farm. Why was he still here? Why did he agree to ... all this? He eyed the brainwashing device and wondered, ever so briefly, if he’d gone mad. This was a cycle he went through most mornings, until the feeling in his crotch provided a swift reminder.

Byron looked down at his bloated nutsack and engorged penis. They were twice the size they’d been before coming to this place. Maybe bigger. His body hummed with lust and Byron bit his lip.

’No no no ... Please!’

His left hand moved to his shaft, in spite of himself.

CRACKLE

A warning pulsed through his brain, bringing a sharp snap of pain as he took hold of his weighty unit. He jerked it up and down in desperate need, but the pleasurable sensations he expected never came. All it did was make the longing worse.

CRACKLE CRACKLE

“Ahhhhhhh!!!”

Byron released himself. His chest rose and fell with quick breaths. The young man’s erect member pulsed with heat and lust; his scrotum heavy beneath it. His plump balls churned away, somehow making room for ever more semen despite their already ridiculous size and density.

It wasn’t fair. Nothing about this was. And yet, in a half hour’s time, he would be in heaven. The daily milkings made everything worth it. He would suffer any indignity. Do whatever they commanded. He just wanted to feel that exquisite pleasure again.

He looked around the sparse dorm room. Four walls, a bathroom, a few furnishings and a television. It was as simple as dwellings got. And yet, this was fancy compared to some of the accommodations he’d seen on the grounds. Some of the men, the ones who’d been here a long time, literally lived out in the stables. They were like animals. Perhaps they’d become animals. A new kind of animal-human hybrid. A milk stud.

Would he end up living as a barnyard creature? It seemed likely. Unless he missed his guess, the dorm rooms were for new recruits. A taste of normality while the newbie milk sluts were broken in. He hoped he could stay here a while yet. He wasn’t ready to dwell in muck and hay. At least, not on a regular basis.

Byron scanned his naked body up and down as he waited for Mistress to arrive. He’d only been there for a few months, but so much had changed. He’d been a college freshman not long ago. He discovered Mega Milkers while looking for a summer job. It was an opportunity to earn some money before his sophomore year.

It sounded like the best deal in the world. Spend a summer on the farm. Get to hang out with pretty girls. Byron’s tuition would be paid upon completing his service. No more college debt. The only stipulations? Submitting to the farm and the women who ran it. That included kinky exploits and taking whatever supplements they demanded.

He was put off by the pills and injections at first, but he couldn’t argue with the results. His body, once thin and boyish, was filling out rapidly. Byron had meat on his bones for the first time in his life. His shoulders, arms, chest and torso had definition. His legs were the most significant improvement of all; calves and thighs sculpted from muscle.

Was it the drugs they gave him? The grueling chores? Or all the ridiculous pony games they made him play in elaborate bondage? It was the combination of the three, most likely. How else could he have undergone such a massive physical transformation in such a short time?

Byron rose from the bed and walked to the tall, full length wall mirror not far from the door. He inspected his beefy body in the reflection. That was the truly bizarre thing. They’d changed him in so many ways and yet ... he approved. Other than the strange ‘#17’ cattle tag permanently clipped in his ear, Byron liked what he saw.

He felt desired. Sought after. Prized. It didn’t matter that it was his seed they truly wanted. He didn’t care that he’d become an object to be toyed with on this sinister fetish farm. Byron enjoyed it and, more to the point, the orgasms! They were like nothing he’d ever experienced before. The explosive pleasure delivered by the hands of a skilled stable Mistress made a mockery of any pitiful climax he’d achieved before coming to this place.

He wanted nothing else but to experience it. Again and again and again.

knock knock knock

The taps arrived on the door like a herald of erotic bliss. The portal opened and in walked his gorgeous handler; a dark skinned beauty he knew only by the name Jessie. She was clad in black rubber work boots, light blue sweat pants, a low-cut white top that exposed her mid-riff and one of the farm’s signature white baseball caps. Her thick, dark hair trailed down her head, including a partial pony tail that emerged from the back of her hat.

Jessie carried a long leather leash with a metal fastener at its end along with a med kit. Inside was a syringe with his daily injection along with the oral medication he was administrated twice a day.

Her gaze drank in Byron and a fiendish smile curled her lips. The young man turned toward the door and tucked his arms behind him, standing at attention. His stiff cock pointed directly at the sultry milk maid. A deep red entered his cheeks as he blushed sheepishly.

“Oh! You’re up already? Perfect. I see you’re ready for your morning milking!”

“MMMMMPPPHHHH!!!! MMMMMPPGGHHHHHHPPPPHHHHLLLMMMM!!!!”

“That’s it! Keep it coming 17! Good boy!”

Byron groaned through the ball gag lodged in his mouth. His hands yanked on the thick leather cuffs securing his arms behind his back. The bindings were attached to a sturdy length of chain that ran to the stall wall. He stood on the tile floor, not far from the drainage hole at its center as Jessie stroked him back and forth.

Cum erupted from his bloated glans in luscious waves. Small webs of spunk splattered the stable Mistress on occasion, but most of the thick nut ran down into the receptacle just in front of the bound bitch boy. The metal milk bucket was already half full; a product of his first forced climax ten minutes ago and the one he was currently enduring.

Jessie’s skillful handjob wasn’t the only thing driving him wild with pleasure. The combination butt plug and vibrating toy buzzed away in his ass, stimulating Byron’s prostate and dialing his full-body bliss to maximum. The fat anal invader led to a cow-print leather tail that hung from his plugged anus. It completed the young man’s image as a milk stud. Its vibration settings could be adjusted by remote at any time.

Jessie rolled her left hand around the bottom of his well lubed balls. She applied a series of lotions and creams to his genitalia in between each round of milking. Byron didn’t know if it was medicated or if its natural properties as a lubricant were what made him feel incredible. He only knew it made his milking sessions much more intense.

She kneaded his nuts gently with squishy, lotion-slathered fingers and stroked his fat length up and down in long, lewd strokes.

“GGGHHHHMMMMMMPPPHHHH!!! MMMMMMMPPPPHHHH!!!!”

Byron’s body shuddered and another long, fat ribbon of creamy sludge blasted from his tip. This one hit Jessie’s cleavage dead center, covering her exposed breasts. A smaller strip of creamy nut managed to fly up and decorate her mouth and chin.

The sultry stable Mistress didn’t miss a beat, continuing to jack him as her tongue extended to clean herself and have a taste. She lapped up the dollop of cum happily, then leaned forward so the excess filth could slide from her chest into the waiting cream catcher.

“Be careful 17! My breasts are fair game and I can take it on the chin, but if you get any of your filth in my hair, I will BEAT YOUR ASS!”

She gave his cock and balls a firm squeeze, causing him to grunt as she emphasized her final words. Jessie then resumed her slick stroking with a throaty chuckle.

More spurts of thick custard oozed from his bulging cockhead as the wicked vixen drained him dry. Byron perspired as his body convulsed. It was all he could do to stay upright as his body shook in pleasure and more clingy paste shot from his cock into the cylindrical cauldron of spooge.

“There we go!” Jessie announced happily as she released his spent nethers. “Two thirds full! Just one more round and you’ll be done for the morning.”

She rose from her milking bench and pulled off her gloves with two snaps of wet latex. Jessie deposited them in a nearby waste can before turning back to the gagged and still-recovering Byron. With a flick of the remote, she brought the buzzing toy in his ass to a stop.

“Be back in a jiff, slut! I’m going to freshen up a bit. Don’t knock over that can, or we’ll have to start all over! You know the rules.”

Jessie patted him on the cheek before striding off. Byron was left alone with his thoughts for a time. He breathed deeply through his nose as his body descended from the delirious high of chemically and physically enhanced orgasm.

He looked up and down the row of tiled milking stalls. There were just a few other guys being milked at the moment, but the morning rush would arrive before long. Pretty soon the facility would be loud with muffled moans and haughty laughs.

Byron couldn’t help but wonder where all these canisters of man butter were going. He’d heard a rumor from one of the other studs that their milkings were commissioned by a nearby convent of fetish nuns. His fellow cum slave claimed to have seen one of the Sisters in black latex visit and inspect the facility. The whole story seemed rather unlikely to Byron, but given the reality he found himself living, it didn’t feel impossible either.