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🌸 I’m a very playful redhead girl💋💖You get an Instant Reward after subscribing 👀🤍I do Solo and Toys content 👅💙 I post daily at least 2 times a day ❤ Sexting 24/7 😏🤤 Dick Rates 😊🧚♀️ live chats🥰 💵💵Cash app friendly 💵💵
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Alt versions of yesterday’s piece
More alts including nudes and preggo versions @ patreon.com/firez
black girl lactating
Size: 34”-42”= 34I
Goal: “L” cup (on hiatus)
Hey everyone, sorry for no new posts last week, I was incredibly busy with a multitude of things and I have finally gotten over my cold too! For starters, I have officially moved out of my house and into a new place of my own! Albeit, it was a bit ahead of schedule but I am happy nonetheless. It truly feels good to have a place to call my own...sort of. I do share it with three other close relatives of mine but honestly, larger numbers means easier rent payments haha.....eh. This post is going to count for tomorrow’s weekly update and last weeks as well, so if I don’t post tomorrow, now you know why.
I do get to have some privacy now and I am thrilled because that means I might be able to set up a pumping schedule again :) Only two and a half months left until school is over, and I.AM.READY. tig ol’ bitties here I come! Speaking of which, keeping my bust size the same is a bit easier now. I am happy for that, but my lactation progress is totally suffering because of it. I haven’t expressed or pumped in awhile and you’d think the milk would all build up but no. It’s important to make sure that you keep continuing to pump so your body knows to make more, otherwise your production will shrivel up...kinda like mine :(
I’m not deterred by that fact though, once summer comes around I am going off of hiatus and increasing the dosage a.s.a.p. Until then, I gotta grin and bear with what I got, and so far it’s just big non-milky boobs. My goal is to get just a little bit (or a lot) bigger and then maybe, just maybe....a matching pregnant belly to go with it too. Only time will tell though, but I can wait until I’m ready.
Size: 34”-41 1/2”= 34H
Goal: “L” cup (on hiatus)
Lemme just say again that my goodness, the months just roll by and I’m still here on hiatus. I am eager to get the ball rolling again but I know, I know, good things come to those who wait. One month down, 4 more to go until school is over and I am counting the days until I have my freedom from tuition and overpriced textbooks. At least I can say that I’m not leaving school with debt and I’m quite proud of myself for that.
Since I stopped hand expressing, I noticed my milk supply went down. WAY down, and that’s not good. I massage twice daily now and I know the sessions are long enough to help, but it certainly makes me feel better. One thing I am very excited to try is the Legendairy products I heard so much about. They are fenugreek free so it’s perfect for me and my thyroid condition.
If I wasn’t so embarrassed, I wouldn’t mind buying some lactation products at the store, but I don’t want to deal with side-eyes and weird looks since I’m not expecting. Only time will tell though, maybe one day I’ll become a mother and I’m definitely looking forward to the experience.
Oh and just a quick reminder y’all that the Discord chat is open and it’s full of wonderful people who share the same amount of wisdom and curiosity for lactation! :) I’ll reblog the link for it later, and if you have any quesstions, feel free to send an ask!
daddy, Daddy, where did y(You) go?
father, Father you were just waiting in the window
for me to come home.
Prodigal daughter looking for a parking space,
and after all these wanton, wasted years of mutilated mutism,
I have conversed with my Father and my father
more than I have spoken to Him
to him in centuries,
I believed they left me, but they were here all along.
I spoke to my (F)ather of my (f)ather behind the rudimentary, deconsecrated leather confessional of my crooked steering wheel on Sunday afternoon, parked on the brittle bottleneck bitumen of a country road, sanctimoniously stained with the Pollack polka dot visages of slick olive green oil spill saints like dollar store Sistine chapels and bubblegum,
The shivering status of his unholy mass unnamed and untagged like a ferocious fever of unknown origin, an ominous oncology albatross sunning itself in sinister suspended animation above my supine scalp, heavy staffed Herod hovering above the Christian infanticide of my chaotic childhood home like an avian harbinger, a Coventry Carol,
daddy, Daddy, where did Y(y)ou go?
Where were you?
Where was I?
I beseech my (F)ather to forgive me for my (f)ather, a Death Row call of reconciliatory reprieve siphoned through the speakeasies of cherry red phones and peridot green palms like sacred Sunday services pressed to chapped lips,
In my manic hummingbird head behind the wheel, my brain buzzing like an apiary, eyes closed in introverted invisibility, I conjured up the scorpion stung pincushion Polaroids
of six to sixteen to sick, melancholy verbal massacres marinating in the masochistic mayhem of my mercurial moods;
Call me a witch or bitch of a churlish, precocious composition of a prodigy child, the premonitory precursor to the devolving deconstruction of a girlhood, driving back in tears to the teat of a granite gravel Gethsemane
to weep at the germinating genesis of our systematic degeneration.
My fathers and I, estranged,
gilded but not golden and garishly guilty like a Good Friday Judas, hungover and hung from nascent snapped nooses in the Potter’s Field of his pewter perjury, his bartered betrayal,
lactating, celluloid, cranial memories of his paternalism,
his willing hands that reached to embrace me like an octopoid deity of Ganesha,
Kicking him in lieu of kisses, fists flailing in raucous rebuffing, snidely slamming bedroom doors like cold shoulder coffin lids, excoriating his mustached face until it bled like an abhorrent Sicilian Shroud of Turin,
My Mother Bear rose with her canines bared, playing the part of Ursa Major, stealing me away from him, from his Gemini galaxies so our affections never agglutinated, the banal bonds that never reached cohesion
I am a recovering brat,
haunted by the tonsured monks who genuflect on gaseous, nebulous knees and dematerialize in my apartment and everywhere and all around me,
the macabre mental montages of spray starched maroon uniforms and ‘how was your day’
followed by sullen, surly, school girl silence,
Glowering glares over the pot roast of dinner tables like signal flares over tire fires, seven years old and imbued with the Allah of acids and alkaline, parishes of impunity,
his childhood nickname for me was ‘Lamb,’ revised after years of my garrulous growling to ‘Lion,’
These are the recollections I hunger to embalm, to mummify in archaic resins of mummia,
in mitigated membranes of melancholy:
Flickering sepia film reels of he and (H)e and myself, six before I was sixteen and sick, before the launch of the cessated Cold War, before the Exodus expulsion of my amicability, the coffin birth of my compassion,
the abrupt abortion of my emotional evenness,
this avulsion of adulation,
these cerebral collages of my (F)ather and my father and I,
apprehensively waiting for him on Mondays by the front door at five PM ,
licking lemon lollipops, diminutive Lilliputian, pigtailed, butter blonde clamoring in choruses at his peppermint pinstripe legs to play
Barbies scattered in tanned holocausts on the living room floor like sprawled buxom Babylonian deities and sonorous storybooks, before his abandonment of my sister and I for the Alps of Austria or the leis of Laos over Legos and lullabies,
Malice and brooding apoptosized like a tumor
to his divergent distances, my crude defiance of his deviating divorcement like a splintered septum, his abject absence from the navy blue belly of the swimming pool in July, his midnight departures to Beijing that summoned the striations of summer lightning across the constellations of Spica and
daddy, Daddy, where did you go?
Where was I?
Where were we?
Prodigal daughter just looking for a parking space.
And I spoke to my (F)ather of my (f)ather more this week than we have spoken in years,
“Please don’t let me lose this train”
Not before this severed sheet of the temple at the crucifixion has been stitched with loving lavender Lycra, not before the Keflex can corral the fiery, cherry infection of my rageful rejection,
babbling brook like a Tower of Babel to (h)Him, hospice reconciliations of the citrine rinds of reminisces of when I was a revered, venerated rung on the tier of Raphael and not a rust fleshed reptile scraping Gaia’s Wiccan womb, back to the echoes of Eden when my now lacerated limbs were some breed of chalk white heroin, frontal lobe flashbacks back to ‘95 when I was an alabaster altar server and chalice of a cantor,
Now, (h)He looks at me as though I am a defunct, deconsecrated church, some Wickerwoman, wrecked and immolated and wicked, an exiled excommunicant of the Episcopals and evangelicals,
My fathers that held me in the laundry baskets of their avid arms but I could not hold back,
before the Fall of the noisome Novemberist violation, before I found my jailboy and the overflowing orchards of opiates tucked like degenerate bags of unblessed scapulars in his empty wallet, before I welcomed the craved cornucopia of corruption that befell us,
My Lords before my druglord,
My fathers that were gone but never really left,
Absent from attendance roster but still so irrevocably present,
This is a reading from the Book of my Revelations of what my father truly intended to be:
nothing more than a modern day
Abraham in reverse;
sacrificing himself on the makeshift machete altar of a corporate Sinai machine to feed us bits of biscuits of broken bread so we could thrive, to rain manna from his heavens on our promised land of milk and honey,
to provide for us
those buxom Barbies spread on the living room floor in tanned cordwood holocausts like Babylonian deities,
But we have an Easter now, a sudden baptism,
the uncharted coffers of calendars to fill with the sedatives of sleepy Sunday dinners and holes for our divorced donuts,
Now there can be a sun bleached sequel to this premature snuff film, now we have borrowed time to waste bandaging the generational fractures, blessedly benign and I drove back in euphoria to my (f)Fathers
and I embraced them on this Holy Thursday like the nightfall disembodied orbs of Ba and Ka in the sarcophagi of our South Shore Sakkara, our discarded Memphis, greeting and weeping in the tempestuous tombs in the afterlife of my acidulous adolescence,
I apologized in a Validation Forbidding Mourning,
I made aching amends for my butter blonde, pigtailed prepubescent self,
I am a recovering brat,
six to sixteen to sick, shrieking like a Girl Scout Christ stapled to saltires of cedar
“ABBA, FATHER, TATTE,”
why have you forsaken me?”
But now I know
my (f)ather and my Father have been (t)here
They were just waiting in the window
to come home.
Prodigal daughter finds
a parking space.
(So…. long story short, I’m now a hucow simp. Thanks a lot @/biskywrites and @/dark-side-blog2 for making me this way (ﾉД`) lol, all jokes aside, I wanna suck some tiddy milk from a buff man ;)) Anyways, this is Yandere Hucow(Hubull?) Bokuto x Fem Reader ;0 This fic allows me to flex my farming knowledge lol, bc my grandparents owned ponies and dogs.
TW: !Noncon!, !dubcon!, creampie!, he hits you twice!, somnophilia!, predator vs prey?, manipulation!, cumflation!, breeding kink!, size kink!, ur a farmhand!, lactation!, tiddie sucking!, Asshole farmer Ushi, etc..
Please don’t proceed if any of the above are triggering! Also, sorry if Bokuto is too OOC lol)
“Bokuto got into the lackweed again,” You can’t suppress the laugh that explodes from your mouth. The idea of the biggest hucow (hubull??) on the ranch freaking out (again), because he’s now dripping milk is hilarious.
“Where on Earth does he keep finding those damn weeds?” The other farmhand laughs as well, stooping down to fill two buckets with water.
“I think those grass seeds were cross contaminated, the other hucows also started to lactate a lot more than usual. But, it’s kinda funny that our best breeder is dripping like a heifer,” Chuckling in acknowledgement, you can’t help but feel a pang of pity. Poor Bo, he’s probably really self conscious at the moment.
“Maybe I should go check on him-” Your coworker almost drops the bucket she’s filling, looking up at you as if you just grew three heads.
“Why would you do that? Did you forget that he’s going in rut soon?” Frowning, you glance down at the floor in mild shame.
“Well, yes, but he isn’t supposed to start until next week! Plus, I’m not ovulating right now, so I won’t trigger him,” The other girl thinks for a moment, before nodding slowly.
“I suppose it’d be fine. If anything, he may calm down if his favourite handler is there,” Nodding, you grab two buckets from the shelf beside you. Squatting down next to your coworker, you place a bucket underneath a faucet, turning the circular handle to the left. A gush of cool water rushes out, quickly filling the plastic pail. Quickly switching it out for the empty one, you wait a few more moments, before turning off the rushing water. Grabbing the handles of the buckets, you lift them whilst standing to your feet, using your legs instead of your back.
Nodding towards the other girl, you bid her farewell. Turning on your heel, you tromp towards the bull pens. The large red barn is quite a far distance from the shed you were once in, causing you to break out in a light sweat. It doesn’t help that it’s mid spring, causing the farm to be quite warm.
Setting the buckets down on the dirt ground, you wipe your brow with the back of your hand. Huffing out a deep breath, you quickly move the concrete slab keeping the barn closed away from the sliding door, before shoving it open. The sound of the cowbell on the red and white door handle on the inside clinks noisily, queuing a symphony of deep ‘moos.’
Picking up the buckets with bent knees, you hurry inside, relishing the feeling of the barn’s fans on your sweaty skin, “Hey guys, is the barn cool enough for you?” Grumbles and shifting of large bodies are all you get in response, causing you to laugh, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Gunning it for a certain grey haired bull’s stall, a bright smile makes its way onto your face, “Hey, Koutarou, how’re you feeling?”
He’s currently laying on his bed of compact hay, tears sliding down his handsome face. His cute ears are droopy, his bell earring not jingling with life like normal. His tears drip between his septum piercing, and drop onto his well defined abdomen, “Not good, (Your Name).”
With a small gasp, you set down the pails rather harshly, some of the cool liquid sloshing onto the wooden floor. Hurrying towards him, you sit on the prickly ‘mattress,’ “What’s wrong? I heard that you’re lac-” A small sob leaves his lips at your words, causing you to grab his hand reassuringly, “Are the other guys making fun of you? I can go yell at them if you’d like!”
The buff bull-man sits up, one arm covering his chest self-consciously, “No! They’re not being mean,” He grips your hand almost to the point that it’s painful, “I-it’s just… my chest hurts, real bad.”
Nodding in understanding, you motion towards his covered pecs, “Let me see, Bubs. I’ll see what I can do.”
His face flushes bright red, “But it’s embarrassing!” You shush him sweetly, releasing his hand to coax his arm away from his chest.
“It’s okay, I won’t make fun of you! I just wanna help you,” After a moment of hesitance, he obeys, revealing his swollen, red nipples.
The area around his nipples is raised as well, showing just how much his milk is backed up.
Eyes softening even more, you delicately rub both pecs, “You’re alright, Bubs. This happens to the cows sometimes when we don’t milk them as much as we need to. If you’d like, I can go find a pump!”
“No! I don’t wanna pump!” You jump slightly, and move away from him, only for his hands to trap your own to his chest. More tears gather in his eyes, as he becomes distraught, “I don’t want my milk to go to waste!”
Taken aback, you nod, although you don’t understand his reasoning, “Kou, why’re you acting like this? You know we don’t get rid of milk, we sell your guys’ milk at the market.”
He shakes his head, “I don’t want you to sell it. I want you to drink it,” The look of shock on your face is mistaken as disgust, causing him to cry even more, “Do you think I’m weird? Why do you look like that?” Seeing the bull act so sensitive is adorable, but you feel as though you have to comfort him.
“No, no, it’s okay! I’m not weirded out, I’m just surprised. I’ll go get a bucket-”
“No bucket!” Sighing at his weird behaviour, you cock an eyebrow at him.
“Then how am I supposed to collect it?” A big grin crosses his teary face.
“Drink from me! I promise I’ll be good!” Shifting in discomfort, an anxious sweat starts to form on your brow.
“Ahaha, that’s funny, Kou. You know I can’t do that,” More tears well up in his eyes, squeezing your heart painfully, “Don’t look at me like that, Bubs. I don’t think your owner would like me getting so close-”
“I don’t mind,” Ushijima’s voice booms throughout the barn, scaring the living daylights out of you. Whipping your head around, you make eye contact with the large male, an uncharacteristic smirk on his face, “As long as my star bull is happy, I’m happy.”
Kou releases your hands, only to grab your face, forcing you to look at him, “See! He doesn’t care! Please, (Nickname), please help me! My udders hurt so bad!”
With Ushijima’s eyes on you, and Koutarou’s sad and pain filled face, you finally relent, “Okay, okay! Don’t freak out, Bubs, I’ll help. You just gotta let me go.”
He releases you quickly, before shoving your head towards his chest. The jingling of his earring is heard, telling you that his ears are no longer pressed down on the top of his head. You hear heavy footsteps walk away from his stall, probably gathering the bulls to let them graze outside.
You try to push away from where your head is being smushed, but the bull gives you no leeway, “Why aren’t you drinking?” The male practically whines, as you whack his shoulder lightly.
“I’m being smothered in between your tiddies, Kou,” You chuckle in slight discomfort, but he finally allows you up. Moving towards his most swollen nipple (the left one), you pinch it between your thumb and forefinger, causing a small stream of milk to come streaming out.
A small moan leaves the large man’s lips, as he shoves you once again face first into his chest, “Don’t tease, (Nickname), I feel like I’m dying!” A flash of empathy goes through your heart.
Removing your hand from his nipple, you take a deep breath, and latch yourself onto him.Your chapstick covered lips are soft against his sensitive skin, causing him to keen. When you suckle, a tidal wave of milk bursts into your mouth. Luckily, it doesn’t taste very bad; his milk tastes like vanilla, causing you start to slurp it up like a babe.
Your one hand kneads his other pec to soothe him, “Fu-fuck, you’re making me feel so good!” You don’t bother trying to say anything, instead, you just suck harder. Your unoccupied hand squeezes his tit that you’re currently nursing on, causing him to pump out more of his yummy milk.
After a few long moments, you release his nipple. A drop of milk trickles down your chin, which the large bull laughs at. A thick finger wipes off the excess, pushing itself into your mouth. A tender look is in the grey haired man’s eyes, as he kisses your forehead.
“Thank you, pretty girl. Can you do the other one, please?” Now that he’s no longer in a painfilled state, he’s back to his normal, boyish self. Nodding, you lick your lips, before latching on to his other nipple. He barely chokes back a moan, his hand gripping the back of your head.
You suck as hard as you can without hurting him, pretending his nipple was a straw to a thick ass milkshake. Between your massaging and sucking, his teat no longer feels as painful as it once did.
Pulling away, you give him a wry smile, “There, all better. Well, I should pour your water into your trough now,” Standing up with wobbly legs, you move towards the filled buckets. Picking them up one by one, you pour it in with unsteady hands. Why are you so shaky right now? “Well, I should get going now. I hope you feel better later,” You try to walk out of his stall, only to be yanked back into Bokuto’s lap. Both empty pails fall to the ground unceremoniously, clattering loudly through the empty barn.
“Don’t leave me, Lovely, I need you,” His warm skin against yours feels nice, and you suddenly feel sleepy.
“Kou, I’m tired. I think-I think I’m gonna take a nap,” He runs his fingers (through your hair/over your scalp), tantalising you into drifting off.
“That’s alright, (Nickname), I’ll watch after you,” With a muffled ‘Mhm,’ you fall into a deep slumber.
When you awoke, you woke to your body shaking. Brow furrowing, you blearily open your eyes, only to see a tuft of grey hair in between your bent, spread legs.
His long tongue is currently fucking in and out of your dripping cunt, his thumb rubbing against your clit.
“Ku-Kou? Wha-“ He looks up immediately, a look of shock on his strong features.
“I-It’s Not what it looks like! I-I just wanted a taste!” You groggily push at his head, catching his ears slightly, causing a small jingling to sound throughout the empty barn.
“You didn’t ask, why, why are you-“ He grabs your hand, kissing each knuckle with a slobbering kiss.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Let me make you feel good! You taste so good,” You yank your hand back, trying to kick off the hand that currently wrapped around your right thigh.
“Get off of me! Bokuto, you-you’re doing this without my consent! I thought we were friends!” You shout, pushing at his face harshly. He grabs one of your hands, trying to kiss it, only for your other to clap him upside the face harshly, “Don’t! You’ve already done enough.”
Kicking him away (even though he’s much larger and stronger than you, meaning he just moved away), you stand to your feet, pulling back up your halfway down jeans and panties.
Snatching up the buckets previously discarded, you don’t even shoot the crying bull a glance, just turning on your heel, and stomping away.
Tears of your own drip down your face, humiliation and betrayal weighing down your aching heart.
Forcefully sliding open the barn doors, you run from it, catching the eye of a certain green haired farmer.
It seems Bokuto fucked up.
But that’s okay, when he goes into rut, there’ll be nothing keeping him from breeding you full of his massive calves.
You avoided the bull barn like the plague for the next week. The hucows are very pleasant company. They treat you as if you’re their young, making you feel well loved.
That is, until Hachi asked you why you’ve been avoiding Bokuto. She’d told you that he hasn’t acted the same, in fact, he’s acted depressed and withdrawn.
Since then, you’ve stuck with aquatic life. The fish, swans, and ducks don’t give you that much trouble.
But, when you come back from the pond and fish pools, the farm is ensued with panic. Apparently, Bokuto’s finally gone into rut.
And, unfortunately for you, he’s on the prowl for you.
So, when your coworker runs up to you, begging for you to calm him, you turn on your heel, and start walking back towards the pond. They can figure this out themselves, you’re not going to sacrifice yourself to someone who tried to take advantage of you.
Sadly, that doesn’t work out.
You’re immediately stopped by Ushijima, his broad form blocking you from advancing forward, “Where do you think you’re going?” His arms are crossed, an angry scowl on his usually handsome features.
“I forgot something at the pond,” You lie, smoothly, “I’m going to go grab it real quick-”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” His strong voice booms, “What you’re going to do, is march yourself into the barn, and make my prized bull happy.”
Your own scowl forms on your pretty face, “I will do nothing of the sort. Interspecies sex is illegal! You can fire me for all I care, I’m not going in there!” You try to move around his large form, only to be manhandled into a chokehold.
His left arm is wrapped around your neck, your back to his chest, and your face being held in a large hand, “Interspecies sex is legal when a human and hybrid are mates,” He hisses through gritted teeth, and you struggle in his hold, “If you don’t go in there, I’ll drag you in.”
“Fuck you,” You spit, “I’ll fucking castrate you!” You kick backwards, landing a solid hit on the large man’s groin. With a loud yell, you’re let go, allowing you to run towards the farm’s parking area. Pulling your truck’s keys from your pocket, you haul ass, not bothering to look behind you.
The barns and sheds fly past you, as you run through the open field leading to the car park. You suddenly hear loud footsteps follow after you, and you assume that it’s Ushijima, that is, until you hear them, “(Nickname)! (Nickname), where are you going? Why are you running away from me?” Bokuto’s voice rings out at top volume, hurting your ears. His voice a lot more gravely than before, and without looking at him, you know that he most likely looks crazed.
You don’t respond, trying to pick up the pace. You click the unlock button one time, only unlocking the driver’s side door. Because you had a head start, you cleared the field in less than three seconds, allowing you to hop into your truck, and lock the doors. Shoving the key into the ignition, all whilst buckling your seatbelt, you press on the brake, and turn it, only to hear the spluttering of your failing ignition, “Come on! Don’t do this-” Bokuto slams into the driver’s side door at top speed, rocking your large vehicle harshly. His hands and face are pressed against the window, his expression looking like that of a kicked puppy. You then notice the fact that the buff male is completely naked, his impossibly large cock bobbing against his toned stomach.
“Why are you trying to leave? I need you so badly, pretty-pretty. Why don’t you open the door, and we can figure this out? I promise I’ll make you feel good, after all, us bulls pride ourselves in taking care of our mates,” You cringe in disgust, not bothering to answer him. Instead, you continue to fiddle with your ignition, muttering expletives under your breath. His large hands start to beat on your driver-side window, trying to gain your attention, “(Nickname), come out already! Ushi already cut your fuel line, so you’re not going anywhere! Come on, I just wanna make you feel good-”
It was your turn to cut him off, “Shut up! We aren’t friends anymore, Bokuto, much less lovers! Just leave me the fuck alone! I’m sure many of the cows would love to help you through your rut, why can’t you just ask them?” Tears of frustration dot your eyelashes, as you pop open your glove box and search for your phone. Catching sight of the black cased (phone type), you snatch it from its confines with a loud ‘Aha,’ “Don’t make me call the Farmer’s Union, Bokuto. I’ll report you and Ushijima for-”
“You won’t! You love me too much!” His frantic words raise in volume, as he hit the glass even harder than before, “You wouldn’t put me down! Come on, (Nickname), why won’t you call me ‘Bubs’ anymore? I love you!” You swipe open your phone, and go to the contacts. Pulling up the Farmer’s Union phone number, you go to press ‘call,’ only for the shattering of glass to halt you.
You scream in both fear and shock, throwing up your hands to protect your face. This, in turn, causes you to drop your phone. In this time, Bokuto is able to grab you by your arms, and drag you towards the broken window. Your seatbelt keeps you in place, causing him to pull you even harder, and making you scream in pain.
You use your arm to whack his against the broken glass on your truck’s window area. He releases you in a moment of pain, allowing you to unbuckle yourself, and throw yourself to the passenger side. Once there, you unlock the door, and bolt towards the road.
“(Your Name), come back here! Stop being so difficult!” You pay him no mind, a few meters away from the busy road. Noticing a car speeding towards the area you’re running to, you push yourself even harder, trying to throw yourself into the road. Unfortunately, you’re grabbed by two buff arms that encircle your waist. They use all of their strength to smash you into their chest from behind, knocking the air from your lungs, “Are you crazy? You could’ve been hurt!” You thrash and try to bite at him, causing Bokuto to backhand you across the face, “Now look what you made me do! If you’d been good, I wouldn’t have had to do that!”
To be completely honest, you’re in shock. Bokuto has never raised a hand at you, and that slap wasn’t a warning tap. No, that was him using a good majority of his strength, causing your cheek to throb painfully.
You continue to thrash and curse after freezing for a moment, drawing the eyes of concerned coworkers, “Let go of me! What the fuck is wrong with you? Put me down!” You try to kick him in the junk, only to kick him on the inside of his thigh. In retaliation, he backhands you again, this time on the other cheek. Gasps and whispers are heard from those around you, drawing the large hucow’s eyes.
“There’s nothing to see here, guys! Just my mate making a scene,” He shakes you a bit to shut you up, causing you to become disoriented. The farmhands and other hybrids look like they’re about to step in, only for Ushijima himself to show up.
“What Bokuto said is correct,” His harsh gaze is on you, his hand gripping his dick, “She’s just making a scene. Let them through.”
They reluctantly go back to their business, as Koutarou guns it to the empty bull barn. Ushijima only watches as you’re dragged to the large building, as tears drip down your face in fear, and his fist at his side clenches in fury.
Stomping into the barn, Bokuto makes quick work of getting to his stall. Once inside, he tosses you on the hay mattress, and straddles your waist. With pawing hands, he rips your t-shirt and jeans off of you, leaving you in your bra and underwear, along with your boots and socks. Yanking off your boots, be tossed them out of his ‘room,’ as you try to throw punches at his muscular chest. He grunts, but doesn’t stop.
With beefy fingers, he yanks off your bra, ripping it in two. Your tits jiggle at his harsh movements, making him lick his lips in enjoyment. He then rips off your cotton panties, exposing your cunny to his hungry eyes.
“You’re beautiful, pretty-pretty. I can’t wait to see you stuffed with my calves,” You shake your head no rapidly, pushing his hands away from where they rest on your hips.
“No! Stop it, Bokuto! I thought we were friends!” He tightens his grip on your pelvis, forcing your legs open.
“That’s Not my name, (Nickname), you know that. Now, you know that I’m way more than just your friend-I’m your mate, and you know that I’ll provide for you and our calves,” With grubby fingers, he rubs at your clit, trying to draw a good reaction from you.
You squirm in response, trying to wriggle out of his one handed grip. You shove at his chest, but he remains unmoved, choosing to press down harder than before, “Stop it! Let me go!”
He inserts his middle finger into your moist cunny, forcing it in and out. You try to kick him in the head only for him to catch your leg with the hand that previously held your hip, “If you wanted me to eat you out that bad, you should’ve just said so, pretty girl,” Before you can refuse, he throws your legs over his shoulders, and dives in.
His long tongue fucks in and out of your hole, one of his thumbs rubbing your clit. A loud whine escapes your throat before you can stop it, making you feel a wave of disgust for yourself. Bokuto shouldn’t be making you feel good, he’s assaulting you, after all.
But, when his tongue brushed against your g-spot, you can’t help but convulse in pleasure. Thighs quaking, you try to stop yourself from cumming.
“St-stop! I’m, I’m gonna-“ He stops before you can cum, instead, pushing your hips down to where his cock lays against his abs. Forcing the bulbous head against your tiny hole, he pushes harshly, trying to fuck into you like an animal, “No! No! You’re too big! You’re going to tear my-“ With one powerful thrust, he forces his way inside, and you can’t help but scream.
Tears drip down your face at the feeling, your pussy feeling like it’s been ripped open. Bokuto grabs your head, and forces it against his chest, practically making you take one of his pink nipples into your mouth. You’re immediately met with the taste of his vanilla milk, drinking it up as the hucow starts to buck into you at a lightning fast pace.
Your teeth bite down on his nipple, but instead of being angry, he just moans in lust, “Yes! Yes, pretty girl, you’re taking me so well!”
His hand that isn’t cradling your head goes to your tummy, feeling his huge length moving underneath your skin. He presses down a bit, causing another wanton moan to leave to both of you. With this thought in mind, he picks up the pace, practically fucking you into unconsciousness.
Eyes rolling back, your ruined cunny gushed pathetically, coating you and the bull with your juices, “(Nickname), you’re so pretty when you cum,” He continues his breakneck pace, getting close to orgasm himself, “I’m gonna fill you up so good, that you’ll be dripping with my fun for days! Your little womb will be bloated with my fertile cum!”
You try to speak, but you can’t, just continuing to suck his yummy milk from his teat. Walls fluttering with another orgasm, you feel yourself clamping down on his enormous cock.
With one last mighty thrust, he seats himself fully inside of you, cumming directly against your unprotected cervix. A muffled scream erupts from your chest, as you feel your womb expand with copious amounts of beeile cum. Releasing his nipple, you throw your head back, a loud cry echoes throughout the barn, as you squirt once more around his cock.
Now completely filled to the brim, you pass out from the trauma. Entirely exhausted, Koutarou grins down at your bloated form. He rubs your tummy like a Buddha statue, kissing it tenderly.
“You’ll be a good Mommy, I’m sure of it,” he then trails his hand up your abdomen, groping your right tit, “You’ll look so pretty all milky and filled with my calves.”
The sound of a throat clearing gains Bokuto’s attention, as he practically throws his naked body over yours. A loud ‘moo’ of warning escapes his chest, even when he notices that the person is just Ushijima.
“I see that she mates with you well,” His eyes trail over your sleeping face, not straying downwards, “I hope this means that you’ll enter more shows.”
Bo smiles, “Yes. Now I need to show off, so my mate thinks I’m an eligible male.”
Nodding, Ushijima turns on his heal, making his way to leave the barn, “I hope your children take after you in strength. (Your Name) is a lot prettier than you are, so maybe they’ll be pleasing to the eye as well.”
Snorting, the grey haired man’s ears twitch, jingling throughout the room, “You bet she is. She’s perfect.”