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  1. Magical Friendship [AR, AP, WG, Lact] by Blankage Magical Friendship [Female Age Regression, Female Age Progression, Weight Gain, Lactation] “Of course he's dating her. She's the hottest girl in school!” Ericka was giving her friend Julie some relationship advice in her usual direct manner. “He probably didn't even know you liked him. You never even talked to him!” Julie bit her lip and diffidently tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear. “Yeah…” She stared at her best friend as she rummaged around in the fridge. Ericka, an attractive, blonde teen, was a year older than Julie and she seemed to have the world all figured out. “I guess it's Frosted Flakes for supper again,” Julie said to change the subject. “Why does your mom always work late?” Julie shrugged, then brightened. “I could make us root beer floats!” “Sweet! I'll find us something to watch.” Ericka walked over to the TV and began thumbing through the DVDs. “You should totally make your mom get Netflix.” “I know. We don't have anything good to watch. Let's just watch TV like we usually do.” “Wait, what's this? Why do you have a My Little Pony DVD?” Julie rolled her eyes. “It's my brother's. He's obsessed with that show.” Ericka giggled. She'd had a bit of a crush on Julie's brother since 3rd grade. “We should totally watch this!” she said. “My brother said not to. I don't know why.” Ericka wasn't listening. She had already put the DVD in the player. “I really don't think you should do that,” Julie said, but she knew there was no point in saying anymore. Ericka usually knew what she wanted, and for some reason she almost always got it. Julie was used to it by now, so it didn't bother her. She settled onto the couch with her cereal and root beer float. The show started, and both girls thought it seemed a little childish. They were teens, and the show seemed clearly aimed at little girls. “The theme song is kind of catchy, don't you think?” Julie said. “I still don't get why your brother likes this,” Ericka replied. Julie shrugged. She was getting a strange tingly feeling in her chest, and she almost unconsciously started to poke and nudge her small breasts. “This is stupid. We should watch something else,” Ericka said. Julie wasn't really listening. Her breasts were actually starting to hurt. It was as if pressure was slowly but surely building up behind them. She started to massage them in earnest. “What are you doing?” Ericka was staring at her incredulously. “My boobs hurt,” Julie said, strangely unembarrassed by the whole situation. Ericka giggled and all of a sudden poked one of Julie's sore breasts. “Ouch!” Julie said. “Stop it!” But Ericka just kept giggling and poked her other boob, harder this time “I'm serious! You're acting like a little brat,” Julie said, trying to fend off her mischievous friend. Ericka just wouldn't stop giggling and poking. She thought the whole thing was hilarious. Finally, Julie decided she'd had enough. “Quit it!” she yelled and grabbed Ericka's wrist as tightly as she could. Ericka got a hurt look on her face, and Julie almost felt sorry for her. She'd never really felt sorry for Ericka before. But as bad as Julie felt, Ericka felt ten times worse. She wasn't sure why the simple act of having her wrist grabbed would affect her this much. Her wrist didn't hurt that badly. But she still felt very insecure, and she really wanted to grab hold of Julie and hug her. It seemed a bit weird and awkward to do that though. So instead she said, “I'm still hungwy – hungry.” She caught herself and said the word correctly, but it felt so much more natural to pronounce the 'r' as a 'w'. Her tongue was feeling awkwardly heavy in her mouth. Julie noticed that Ericka's bowl of Frosted Flakes was indeed empty. Normally she would have told her friend to go fill her bowl herself. But Julie was still feeling rotten about grabbing Ericka's wrist. Getting her more cereal just seemed like the right thing to do. Julie took the bowl from Ericka's hand, and walked to the kitchen. Ericka continued to slurp her root beer float through a straw while watching “My Little Pony.” She was noticing interesting details about the show that she had missed earlier. The bright colors in particular struck her as pretty and happy. She'd never been drunk before, but she imagined that it might feel like this; everything seemed so silly and funny. She found herself giggling a lot at the little ponies. In the kitchen, Ericka started to refill her friend's bowl, but stopped short as she realized that this wasn't a very healthy supper. “Why don't I make something more nutritious?” she thought to herself. Her breasts still had a dull ache behind them, but it was starting to feel normal for some reason. Despite having never cooked anything more complex than scrambled eggs, she pulled a cook-book from the kitchen shelf and turned to a stir-fry recipe. Knowledge seemed to appear in her mind as she began to chop the vegetables expertly. She soon had the stir fry spiced and simmering on the stove. “You're missing this. I'm weally – really starting to like it!” came from the living room. It seemed that Ericka had just finished the first episode. “I'll come watch the second episode with you, okay?” Julie said. She still didn't find the show appealing, but she might as well watch it while the stir-fry cooked. She stared oddly at Ericka's pink My Little Pony shirt with Applejack, Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle on the front. She could have sworn that she was wearing tight, blue tank-top a minute ago. But such bizarre thoughts faded as Julie sat back down on the couch. Ericka was flipping through DVD chapters with the remote. “I thought we were going to watch the second episode,” Julie said. “I already sawed that one,” Ericka said. “Just saw. I already saw that one,” Julie said gently. “Whatever.” Ericka snorted. She hated it when Julie corrected her. Ericka wasn't sure why she was having trouble thinking of the right words to use, but being corrected wasn't helping. Now it was her turn to scratch her breasts as they began to shift underneath her bra. There, Episode 8. She knew she hadn't seen this one yet. Her breasts continued to shift, rising higher and higher and leaving behind empty bra cups in their place. The dangling bra was slowly shifting as well as the cups began to fuse together. The buckle in the back dissolved into elastic as the training bra drew tighter around Ericka's receding breast buds. All the while, her hips were starting to pinch inwards, taking up less space on the sofa. Her ass was slowly deflating like a tire as the couch cushions almost seemed to swallow her thinning form. As Ericka took up less and less space on the sofa, Julie began to take up more. Her ass spread towards Ericka as her hips broadened. She rearranged herself on the couch, sinking deeper into the cushions. Her thighs were filling in as well, the space between them shrinking until they started to touch. She had never really stopped massaging and pushing on her breasts, and it barely registered when her breasts started to push back. The flesh rose like dough, oozing over the cups of her bra and around the sides. She tugged uncomfortably at the small teen bra as it began the conversion to a bra more suitable for her larger, bulkier breasts. Underwire appeared out of thin air, and the straps of the bra became thicker to handle the extra weight. Sniffing the air, Julie could tell that her stir fry was almost finished. She got up from the couch, wincing slightly at the pain in her breasts. The aching that had started deep in her chest was beginning to spread outward towards her nipples. The flesh had begun to tighten and harden as her glands slowly filled with milk. Julie made her way to the kitchen and served up a large plate of stir fry for herself, and a smaller one for Ericka. The smell of the steaming vegetables filled her nostrils, and she hoped that Ericka would appreciate the work that she'd put into making such a delicious, healthy dish. But Ericka barely even looked up as Julie offered her a plate. “Careful, it's hot,” Julie said. Ericka glanced up for a second and wrinkled her nose. “What is that? Can't I just have another bowl of Frosted Flakes?” Julie felt a wave of anger rising from the bottom of her stomach. Normally, she wouldn't have even questioned her friend, but she was feeling strangely powerful for some reason. “You need to eat this first. Then you can have another bowl of cereal.” Ericka rolled her eyes. She was a little taken aback by her friend's dominant tone, but she was quickly distracted as the 9th episode of My Little Pony started. “I love this theme song!” she thought, singing along without really understanding why she had the words memorized. Her training bra thinned and vanished into nothingness as her torso became more and more angular. The former teen was taking on a girlish, innocent look. The small, golf ball sized lumps on her chest began to dissipate, and the slight curves of her hips compressed into hard, straight lines. Ericka gobbled up her food, feeling hungrier than ever. “I weally like Twilight Spawkow. That's the puwple one,” she said, trying to talk around the vegetables in her mouth and failing miserably. “Don't talk with a mouthful of food. That's disgusting,” Julie said. “Okay,” Ericka said, surprised at her own agreeableness. Normally she didn't like people bossing her around. She was starting to get food all over her face, but she barely even noticed. It was just getting harder to make the fork go into her mouth. She also didn't notice that the food was starting to taste different; the texture was getting mushier. It was becoming more difficult for her to chew anyway, so she didn't mind as the thick paste slowly converted into baby food. She spilled some down the front of her My Little Pony shirt but didn't bother to wipe it off. Without taking her eyes off the TV screen, she took a swig from her root beer float. Her plastic cup was beginning to close off at the top. The straw felt thicker and softer in her mouth, and the drink in the cup somehow seemed warmer and creamier. Ericka slurped it up noisily. Small rivulets of what was now warm milk ran out of her mouth and down her chin. Her slurping became more like suckling as the straw finished altering into the plastic nipple of a baby bottle. Her tummy felt comfortably warm and full as it began curve into a more childish form. Julie noticed the mess Ericka was making and clucked softly to herself. “I don't know what I was thinking her letting her eat out here,” she thought, beginning to accept her dominant role. Gently, she reached over and took the plate and fork from Ericka's messy, dripping fingers. The neckline of Julie's shirt was dropping dangerously low as her bra disappeared as well. The veins in her increasingly hard breasts stood out angrily against her white flesh. Her nipples started to elongate and widen until they were as thick as a pencil. They pressed uncomfortably against her shirt, bulging out farther and farther from her swelling chest. Unseen, her areola began to darken and coarsen as small bumps popped up around her fatter nipples. “I'm going to need to pump soon,” she thought to herself as the soreness in her chest continued to grow. The simple act of walking to the kitchen with Ericka's plate was causing her breasts to jiggle so much that milk was beginning to slowly drip from one of her nipples. Dampness spread across the front of her shirt, and she carelessly dabbed at the wet fabric. Ericka was starting to feel sleepy as the 9th episode drew to a close. As Julie returned to the couch, she noticed her friend's eyelids drooping ever so slightly. “I think it's time to go to bed,” Julie said. “Aw, do I hafta?” Julie scarcely hesitated this time. It felt a bit odd, but she knew it was up to her to make sure Ericka went to bed. “Yes, you have school tomorrow,” she said firmly. “Please Mo – I mean Julie.” Ericka was unsure what was happening, but is seemed like she might be beginning to understand. Certain strange thoughts just seemed to float away, replaced with other, more comforting ones. The pony show seemed less and less interesting even as the rubber nipple on her bottle became more fascinating. She continued to gulp the milk down; craving the warm satisfying feeling it gave her. She was so focused on the yummy liquid that didn't notice her underwear getting thicker and more well-padded, especially in the crotch area. She lay her head down in Julie's lap, and a slight crinkling sound came from her diaper as she shifted. “Okay, one more episode,” Julie said, although she knew there was no way that Ericka would be able to stay awake for more than 5 more minutes. Julie's stomach growled, and she realized that she hadn't eaten enough. “I can eat more after I put Ericka to bed,” she thought. She looked down at Ericka's head in her lap with a smile. She stroked the little girl's hair as warmth filled her. Julie's already full thighs and hips began to thicken yet again, becoming an even comfier cushion for Ericka. Her midsection started to push against Ericka's head as her abdomen grew doughier. Julie looked down at herself obliviously. Her breasts blocked her view of her morphing stomach and swelling hips, but she did notice that her chest was almost completely exposed. The edge of one her darkened areola was visible. It was almost as if her dropping neckline were trying to tell her something. Ericka, for her part, didn't notice how much softer and comfier Julie's lap was becoming either. Her thoughts were on the rubber nipple in her mouth and how no more milk was coming out even though she was sucking really hard! She looked up at the woman above her. “Mommy, I'm still hungwy?” she said in her new little girl voice. Julie didn't stir. “Mommy!” Ericka said again. Julie looked down, trying to figure out why Ericka would call her 'Mommy.' “I'm not your mommy,” she said, reaching down to tickle Ericka's little stomach. The movement caused a stream of milk to spurt out of one of her full, aching breasts. Ericka giggled girlishly. “Yes you awre!” Julie tickled her again. “Mama, me hungwy.” Ericka struggled to get the words out. She eyed Julie's swollen breasts. As adult thoughts left her mind and child-like instincts began to kick-in, those breasts were becoming more and more closely associated with food. “What did you say?” Julie said. She felt a foreign emotion building up in her; a sense of nurturing protectiveness towards the little girl in her arms. She unconsciously held Ericka tighter, feeling the child's warmth against her lightly sagging stomach. One part of her wanted to go on as if she were Ericka's baby-sitter; cooking her food, helping her put on her jammies, getting her ready for bed. But another part of her really, really wanted to be Ericka's mommy. Just for a second, even if it wasn't true. “Mamaw-hungwy!” Ericka tried to make a meaningful sentence out the sounds coming from her mouth but found she was practically unable. She couldn't quite remember what a sentence was anyway. Something to do with words? Her shirt had lengthened and was starting to merge with her pants. Julie's thick nipples centered in her vision; began to dominate her universe “Aww,” Julie cooed. Ericka looked so adorable there that she couldn't help but hold her even closer. The little toddler was almost a part of her now. She noticed that the snap on Ericka's onesie had come undone, and she hastily buttoned it back up “ba-ma-ma-brrrr!” Ericka felt herself losing control of her tongue and lips but found that she could still make interesting noises by manipulating her mouth a certain way. The noises clearly weren't getting the message across though, and Ericka desperately searched her shrinking brain for a way to communicate her hunger. She tried to pull herself up towards the food that she somehow knew was in that juicy, sagging breast, but her limbs weren't cooperating either. They just kept waving around helplessly. Ericka's consciousness narrowed even further as she became aware of one thing and only one way of obtaining it. “Baaah, aaaaah,” she yelled, her voice becoming more nasal and higher. All she knew was that her tummy still wasn't full, so she tried again. “waaaaaah, waaaaah” Mothering instincts began to take control of Julie's body as she heard Ericka's crying become more infantile with each passing second. The baby's cries were causing her milk to drip faster and faster from both of her nipples, soon becoming a full stream. There was a part of her that still didn't know what to do with the wailing baby in her lap. She just wanted it to shut up. But there was a deeper, more intuitive part of her of her that knew exactly what Ericka needed: milk. Her milk. Ericka's instincts were taking over as well as her cries became more automatic, almost mechanical. She felt herself being lifted up higher, and something entered her mouth. Her primitive sucking reflex kicked in almost instantly as the thick teat touched the roof of her mouth. She ceased crying, and began to suckle contentedly. Julie felt her bond with the nursing baby growing rapidly as thick, warm milk flowed from deep inside her breast, out her dark nipples, and directly into Ericka's hungry body. They were one unbroken chain, and Julie began to accept that she was Ericka's mother and that it was her job to care for the helpless baby that was so ravenously sucking at her breast. It was a wonderful, beautiful, magical feeling, interrupted only by the cutesy voices of the ponies prancing across the TV. “She'll probably love this show in a few years,” Julie thought, wondering why the show was on in the first place. When the baby seemed completely full of creamy milk, Julie gently laid the sleeping infant on the couch and walked over to the TV, her breasts still lightly dripping. As she put the DVD back its case, she found herself staring at the title. “Friendship really is magic,” she thought sleepily.  
  2. Cash Cow Mc, ff, fd, gr, lac

    Cash Cow Mc, ff, fd, gr, lac Comments welcome: [email protected] There was something satisfying about closing a sale. Certainly, a commission was nice. But closing a sale brought satisfaction that could warm a soul. Especially if you’re a door to door sales representative. It takes a lack of certain ethical fiber to intrude upon the sanctity of another person's home with your merchandise, be it material or spiritual. That, and possibly an ideological certitude that your wares are important enough to be forced upon another. Whatever the motive, closing a sale always left a good taste in your mouth. Girl scouts have it easy. Their wares are well advertised. Plus, folks love girl scouts and everyone loves their cookies. Girl scouts never get a door slammed in their face. On a good day, Anna was lucky not to have more than ten shut before a single word escaped her lips. It didn’t get her down, though. But it can wear on the most stalwart salesperson. Not Anna. Even on days when she didn’t make a sale (known as rolling a donut) Anna wasn’t the slightest bit put off. That’s because Anna had the two qualities that make a great salesperson: #1. A great product that she believed in. A product that she knew would make the world a better place just by sharing it. Even if it was just by one home at a time. #2. She lacked the ethical fiber that keeps most people from knocking on stranger’s doors. It didn’t hurt that Anna also had enough business experience to sell a snow-cone to an Eskimo… then make him a customer for life. Anna was exceptional at what she did, and she enjoyed doing it. It felt good to be back in the lower echelons of business. It was glorious from the top, but it was curiously fun to replay the game and find a new way to get to the summit. The former owner of Taurus Enterprise had learned a few things at the last conference she had attended. And she intended to put them to good use. Over the course of just two weeks she had amassed a good number of sales. No small accomplishment considering it was her first territory with a new product. She made about four sales a day, well beyond what she was able to accomplish in her “rookie” years. Not being in want of money certainly was helping. Indifference. That was the hardest part of the sale to master. The hardest thing for a person to overcome. It’s hard to be indifferent when your livelihood depends on pushing a product. A potential sale can smell how much you want it - and some might lead you on just long enough to make you think your going to close the deal. Then they slam the door, with a satisfactory retribution knowing that they’ve wasted as much of your time as you had of theirs. Anna didn’t need a sale every day. It was nice, but she didn’t need it. Besides she’d already made a sale today. At least she had to believe she did, so the sale would believe she did. It was hard to find a neighborhood that wasn’t trying to “keep up with the Joneses”. Envy was be a beautiful ally. Surprisingly, as rude as the act was, going door to door was often successful simply because a product going door to door held within it a fear of loss and sense of urgency. A salesperson was like an ice cream truck: it might not be back again any time soon, and it won’t be her for long. Sso you’d better go buy your ice cream now. Hmm, there was a thought… maybe Anna could get the same conditioned response as an ice cream truck by playing a little jingle? She’d have to pass that one back to corporate. Then send it to R&D to find a catchy jingle to fit the product. Honestly, Anna wouldn’t be surprised if Dr. Bos already was looking into it. She made a mental note; b flat maybe? Then continued her route. She was losing daylight, and there was one house left at the end of the cul-de-sac that she needed to return to. It was a large two story brick house with false colonnades in front. A new neighborhood in a new suburb. The whole place screamed money. And yet they didn’t have the lawyers (or sense) to put up a “no soliciting” sign. There was a new Land Rover in the driveway. This told Anna that her sale was home. It also told her that she would have no qualms, or difficulty, with taking this sale’s money. Anna went up to the door and politely knocked “Somewhere over the rainbow”. “Shave and a haircut” never got sales, and Anna had a hunch that using “Mario Bros.” wouldn’t work on this sale. She stood to the side of the door, not quite leaning against one of the fake columns. Keeping an eye on the doorway, but not quite staring at it. The door opened, “Hello, I’m Annabelle Taurus. I’m here on behalf of Dr. Bos Body Works and the newest line of Bovidae Products. We’re now offering Bos Replenishing Allure at discount, but I was told you might be interested in our premier product: Bos Intensity Gel.” The door opened wider and a middle aged blond stepped out of the doorway. “Who told you I would be interested in anything?” “Actually, I came by here earlier in the day and your daughter, Kristen, expressed that you might find these products as much to your liking as she did. So I’m here at her bequest.” “Step-daughter…” the blond corrected, “What did she buy off of you?” “She bought a lower end product. She didn’t have the same kind of money as your neighbors.” “What?” “Let’s see, the Pecora’s and the Caprina’s, just in eyesight. They ordered several hundred dollars worth a piece.” Anna said pointing down the street. It always paid to memorize names. “Come to think of it, they mentioned that Jennifer Argali would be interested in our product. When would be a good time to show you what we have to offer?” “Er… I’m not…well, I guess now is as good a time as any. Come on it.” Jennifer submitted. Never ask ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions until they couldn’t bear to say ‘no’. Give them an option between two choices of your choosing and you’ll always come out on top. Anna followed Jennifer into the home. Luxuries of no real value were found throughout the house. Expensive items for sake of spending lots of money. No sentimental value, no craftsmanship, no love. But just enough flair to embarrass yourself by presenting them at Antiques Road Show. Jennifer sat down on an overly plush chair and motioned for Anna to do the same. Anna did so crossing her legs politely. She was sharply dressed in a long professional skirt. Enough to be noticed and still be taken seriously. She set down the bag bearing the purple, black and white logo of Dr. Bos Body Works on the glass coffee table. “How familiar are you with Dr. Bos products?” Asked Anna as she looked through her bag for a few items of demonstration. The pleasant fragrance of lavender began to fill the room. “I’ve heard the name.” “Originally Dr. Bos was a supplier of some of the magic elixirs that cosmetic companies desired. Our ingredients have grown increasingly popular amongst major cosmetics, so an individual brand was the next logical step for growth. And it works in keeping our products truly organic. Straight from harvest through production we want our products to be as natural as possible. What better way to remove all foreign contaminants than have all products made entirely in house? We also ensure all of our products don’t smell like pharmaceuticals. How can you feel beautiful smelling like plastic?” Jennifer instinctively took a breath and became aware of the floral scent in the air. “Oh my! That is nice? What is that?” “Lavender. Something of a personal touch by Dr. Bos herself.” “Dr. Bos is a woman?” Anna bit her tongue. Amazing how chauvinist views still affect the modern home. “Of course! Helping women look good takes a women’s touch. Sure we love to look beautiful to catch a man’s eye. But it’s other women who we seek to truly impress. Dr. Bos is well aware of that and strives to draw envy toward users of her product.” “You have my attention. What have you got?” “For you, Jennifer, Bos Intensity Gel seems like a good place to start. I can see why your dau… step-daughter and neighbors might have suggested it for you. It would suit you well.” Anne smiled as she brought out a small tin of gel. She felt herself getting excited at the prospect of this new client. The world would be much better with Jennifer using Dr. Bos product. At least the neighborhood, anyway. This was Anna’s favorite part. She knew the sale was closed by the time she was invited into the home - but… that moment of anticipation before showing the product! What would the reaction be? What product would they choose in the end? The very idea thrilled Anna almost more than the act of using it. The anticipation, it was like foreplay to her. And foreplay always got her off. Anna unscrewed the lid from the small container. “My that’s an awfully small sample.” said Jennifer, looking somewhat disappointed. “It’s not a sample. Bos Intensity Gel is over $700 an ounce.” answer Anna. She knew a high price alone was enough to snare this sale. “Though some would argue the fact; quality always trumps quantity. Which isn’t to say quantity can’t be a good thing…” As the lid came undone Jennifer couldn’t help but take a deep breath. “That smells lovely. Doesn’t it, Jennifer?” “Oh my, yes it does. You could market it in aroma candles and make a fortune!” Anna made a mental note at that idea. Always good to accept a customer’s suggestions. If one was offered, there were a thousand more sales who shared the idea. Of course long term exposure to such a product… They’d have to be small candles… Jennifer visibly relaxed into the plush chair. Anna smiled. She could have her way with the woman if she’d wanted. She did want to. Just not yet. “That’s a great idea, Jennifer. I’ll make sure our Research and Development team gets moving on that idea, if they’re not already. It would be great to smell this good all the time, wouldn’t it Jennifer?” Jennifer took another deep breath and sighed almost closing her eyes, “Yeah.” Too easy, Anna thought. Almost disappointing, really. Anna loved the struggle of a strong will. She wasn’t expecting a woman with such small breasts to be so… submissive. It made sense though. Jennifer was showing off what little she had in a tight v-neck. Submissive women like showing off their breasts. Anna smiled at the thought. It wouldn’t be long before Jennifer was on her knees. A shame really. Anna enjoyed the longer breaking of Jennifer’s type: rich, arrogant, and naturally good looking. Anna looked upon Jennifer’s lithe form again and noticed that she was a natural blond. Perhaps that counteracted the small breasts in terms of submissiveness? Perhaps a change in strategy, just for the fun of it. “Would you like to smell like lavender, Jennifer?” Jennifer opened her eyes. “What? You mean like a perfume?” It was a bold risk. But that’s what Anna thrived on. “No, not a perfume. I mean would you like to smell like this always?” Anna held the jar of closer to Jennifer. Jennifer couldn’t help but inhale deeply. The scent filled her head, no, her whole body with… she couldn’t find the word for it. She took another breath pushing her nose closer to the jar of Bos Intensity Gel. She wanted it. She needed it. “Yes! I could smell that forever.” Anna smiled. The miscommunication was irrelevant. If Jennifer wanted to smell herself forever, she could. The customer was always right. Anna began screwing the lid back on. Jennifer’s eyes widened and was about to ask why Anna was shutting off the pleasant aroma when Anna answered, “I believe that there is another, more expensive, product more suited to your desires, Jennifer.” The idea of something more expensive was enough to persuade Jennifer, whether it suited her needs or no. She didn’t ask a price. She didn’t even respond verbally, she just got up to get her purse. She whipped out a credit card and threw it on the table. Then Jennifer sat back down into the plush chair. Ah, technology. In Anna’s early years few people had cards, let alone would attempt to use them for a door to door purchase. Then, after the nineties, everyone had cards - but wireless technology was in it’s infancy and it took tens of minutes worth of time filling out forms to charge one from home. And even then it would be at a later date. Now, an account could be charged remotely with a small handheld device. Anna smiled. She could empty the entire account. There wasn’t a need to though. She wasn’t in need of money. Besides, honest business always paid off. Well, mostly honest business… “Let’s just leave that for later, shall we? Until you’re 100% satisfied in our product” Anna left the Bos Intensity Gel and Jennifer’s credit card on the table as she drew a larger purple tinted container from her bag. “This is Bos Age-Defying Cream of Wonder. It will rejuvenate your skin, moisturize it, and give your body the scent of lavender.” Anna unscrewed the jar letting its aroma fill the room, then pulled a pair of latex gloves from her bag and donned them. She scooped up a small bit with her fingers holding it before Jennifer. Jennifer took a deep breath then was caught off guard with a cool sensation on her chest as Anna began rubbing it in just above her v-neck. “Not to mention it is made with the latest Bovidae Formula.” Anna said as she rubbed the cream into Jennifer’s chest. Jennifer’s eyes popped open at the touch of the cold cream as it was spread onto her… She didn’t do anything to stop Anna. It felt too good. But the flavor of the aroma was different somehow. More… musky? Jennifer inhaled deeply again. Yeah, musky. It smelled like lavender and sex. “Are you a submissive woman, Jennifer?” Asked Anna as she scooped up more of the cream. Anna moved in almost straddling the other woman as she rubbed more cream into Jennifer’s chest and above, exposing more of her shoulders… Jennifer’s eyes opened and went up and to the right as she pondered the question. She wasn’t submissive. Especially not considering the way she treated her husband or step-daughter. “No, I’m not a submissive woman.” Anna arched an eyebrow, caught slightly off guard. “Really? I’m sitting over you. I could do with you as I would will.” She said with an air of confidence. Jennifer closed her eyes. “I paid you to.” she retorted as she settled further into the chair. She had a point, really. In her world, Anna was little more than a service provider. What a curious mind. Perhaps she’d paid for service before… “What are you paying me to do?” “I’m paying you to make me more beautiful.” Again, she had a point. “Your money is well spent. Your skin is rejuvenating and re-hydrating. All your wrinkles, what few you had, are disappearing. Your breasts will soon start firming up. You’ll hardly recognize yourself in short time.” “Good!” Jennifer smiled and opened her body to Anna. Anna wasn’t sure how she felt about this. It was as if Jennifer expected her to rub the entire jar of Bos Age-Defying Cream of Wonder onto her body to her benefit. Sure, Anna had planned on doing just so. But, that was because it was her idea. Not this egomaniac’s. Best to swallow her pride and run with it. At least for a little bit. “Is there anything else in particular I could help you with?” Anna inquired as she rubbed the last of the cream onto Jennifer. This time moving lower over what was exposed of Jennifer’s breasts. Jennifer laughed. “I remember the day when I had to go abroad for that kind of service! What are you offering?” Anna bit her lip and pulled back from on top of Jennifer. Despite the chemicals running through her body, despite her submissive response to Anna’s actions, Jennifer still thought she was in charge. And now she thought that Anna was a prostitute. She had misread Anna’s seduction… Anna cringed at the thought. Even more so when she acknowledged that seduction it was… With a twinge Anna snapped out of it. She wasn’t the whore here. Anna had read all the signs - and by now Jennifer had taken a more than healthy dose of narcotics. Anna was the alpha here, even if Jennifer didn’t know it, yet. She would turn Jennifer into a cash cow. Even if it meant doing so at Jennifer’s request. Maintaining her professionalism, Anna stepped back and laid out the rest of her wares onto the table. She named each product as she did so. Anna could take her time. The chemicals would do their job, even if Jennifer was proving more resistant than most to their cognitive effects. “I have with me: Bos Replenishing Allure, Hypnotherapy Omega Red Sensory Elixir, Replenishing Anti-Wrinkle Serum, Shock Perfume Intensity Cellular Extract, Bos Oxygen Natural Dermafil, Bos Open Intensity Night Gel, Simple Elixir Xanthippe. You’ve already seen the Bos Intensity Gel. And here is the original Bovidae Formula.” Anna neglected to pull out the remaining item in the bag. Given the circumstances, she didn’t want Jennifer to know about the feeldoe. Not yet, anyway. It wasn’t something Anna normally carried on her. It was special purchase for a special client, and Anna made sure that the customer always got what they paid for. “Mmmm, let’s go back to the Intensity Gel. I didn’t get to feel it yet.” Said Jennifer. “Excellent choice. It compliment’s the effects of Bos Age-Defying Cream of Wonder. And it will feel very good!” Anna reopened the container “If you want I could…” “Yes! I think you should!” responded Jennifer, pulling off her v-neck and turning in the chair to better expose her back and shoulders to Anna. Anna smiled. The subtlety of persuasion was unnecessary, aside from comforting Anna’s ego that she was indeed in control. Certainly the chemicals where helping subdue Jennifer’s inhibitions about removing her shirt. She admired Jennifer’s newly exposed flesh. It was already healthy and smooth. Toned in just the right places. “Actually, Jennifer, Bos Intensity Gel isn’t meant for your backside.” A tipsy smile crept its way across Jennifer’s face. “Then I guess this will just get in the way!” She giggled as she removed her bra and tossed it away. She cupped her pert breasts and swayed her body invitingly in front of Anna. Then she relaxed again into the plush chair, now half nude. Anna’s smile was genuine. In a past life she would have offered Jennifer a managerial post. Especially given her clairvoyance in recognizing her bra would get in the way, no less! Too bad for Jennifer. Since the chemicals were kicking in Anna would now only offer her a post in the manger. Moving again closer to Jennifer, Anna dipped her gloved fingers into the gel. Anna held her fingers in front of Jennifer’s nose before rubbing it into the other, not yet submissive, woman. Jennifer couldn’t control herself as she leaned in to smell the scent she had so adored. A strong odor of lavender, and something different now. Not just musk. There was liquid sex mixed into the floral scent. She breathed deep and rubbed a nipple. What sweet sight greeted Anna’s eyes. As jaded as she was, she still got a thrill as the wet spot crept from Jennifer’s crotch. Anna couldn’t help but take a whiff of the new scent of lavender and sex that filled the air… Only lost for a moment, she snapped out of the daze and continued her task. Jennifer cooed and pulled her own hand back as Anna massaged the cool gel into her breasts. She could feel her nipples swell. She arched her back so as to press her flesh deeper into Anna’s hands. But Anna’s hands weren’t there long. “Oh!” She moaned as Anna smeared more of the gel onto her abdomen. “OOH!” she cried louder as Anna rubbed concentric circles around erogenous spots she didn’t even know she had. It was like her nipples were being tweaked from her stomach. If her belly felt that good, her actual nipples must be shooting lightning bolts. Jennifer cupped her breasts and squeezed unfamiliar flesh. Her nips weren’t found where they normally where. They seemed just a little bit farther out on her tits. Mmm, tits was a great word for what she had. Funny, Jennifer couldn’t remember ever having tits before - she’d only had breasts. Tits were better, bigger, fuller. Sure enough, as soon as she found her nips, they felt like lightning. Jennifer squirmed at her own touch then gasped as Anna rubbed more cream into the two new sweet spots. Her whole body was tingling. So much so she didn’t realized Anna had stopped touching her. Anna was out of Bos Intensity Gel. Mixed with the Cream of Wonder, Jennifer should be feeling swimmingly good without any assistance for a number of hours. Anna watched as Jennifer tweaked her now large tits, wriggling and moaning in ecstasy. She wondered how long it would take Jennifer to notice her developing second set. Anna certainly hadn’t been shy about exciting the new teats - and Jennifer certainly had responded well to the touch. It was odd though. Jennifer hadn’t actually touched herself below her normal set of breasts. Anna had no doubt it would be a while before Jennifer noticed her new milkers. Especially given the diluted concentration of the Bovidae Formula in products for home use. But Jennifer hadn’t taken her hands from her own original nipples. Sure, Dr. Bos products heighten the sensitivity of the body. But most women would begin rubbing their nether regions in tandem with their breasts to get off. Judging by the growing dampness between her legs, it was likely Jennifer needed nothing more than nipple stimulation to reach orgasm. As if to prove the point Jennifer let one go. “Oh, oh, oooooooooh! Oh god! Yes! Yes! Yes!” she screamed, pinching her tits all the tighter. What a lucky one this one is, thought Anna. Four new orgasmic buttons for her, and anyone else’s, pleasure. After a few moments recovery, Jennifer reached a hand down check her own crotch. She rubbed her own wetness then brought her hand back to her face to smell. Heaven. Pure orgasmic bliss. Jennifer had always liked her own smell. But this new one really turned her on. She began rubbing her tits again, though they seemed an even further to reach. “How long are you going to keep your pants on?” questioned Anna. “Until I say you can take them off!” replied Jennifer smugly. She didn’t even open her eyes. She didn’t seem embarrassed that she’d gotten off in front of another woman - despite seemingly to have forgotten about Anna. Did she get off on exhibitionism, too? Anna was amazed at Jennifer’s arrogance, but maintained her cool. “Okay then. When would you like me to take off your pants?” “You’re anxious to get in there, aren’t you?” giggled Jennifer. Physically, the chemicals were working fine. Mentally they seemed to be working as well, if more slowly. Giggling wasn’t something dominant woman were known for. Jennifer wasn’t a dominant woman. She was just bossy. Good thing Anna was sent here. She knew just what to do with bossies. “Actually, Jenny, I’ve got something that needs to go there. Something that was bought just for a submissive woman like you.” “I told you I’m not a submissive woman!” Jennifer retorted while twirling her nipples. “Really, Jenny? Then why are you showing me your tits. Does that get you off?” “Yes!” “You are submissive, Jenny. Submissive women like showing off their tits. Showing off your tits gets you off doesn’t it?” “Yeah, but…” Anna cut her off. “You don’t wear bras either, Jenny. Submissive women don’t wear bras. They like showing off their tits. You couldn’t wear a bra if you tried.” Jennifer thought she wore bras. Ones that emphasized what she had - at least when she didn’t have that much to emphasize. She looked down. What more needed emphasizing? But wouldn’t she need something to support these things? She thought, holding them up with her hands. “Admit it, Jenny, you’re a submissive woman. You’re even making milk like a submissive woman.” Anna reached out and grabbed one of Jennifer’s original teats. She pulled in just the right way and a quick stream of milk shot out. “Oooh!” Jenny squealed. God that felt good! “You liked that. Didn’t you, Jenny? Submissive woman like making milk, don’t they?” “Oh, yes. Oh, oh yes!” Let out Jenny as Anna pulled a few more squirts. “Take off your pants. That’s right, take them off. I knew it! I knew you were a submissive woman! You weren’t wearing any panties, were you? That’s right submissive women don’t wear panties, do they?” Anna rewarded Jenny with a few more expert tugs on Jenny’s now well developed tit. “Oh god! More! More!” pleaded Jenny once Anna stopped. “Get on your knees.” Jenny immediately dropped to the floor. “That feels good doesn’t it, Jenny? Submissive women like being on their knees, don’t they? You like being in that submissive state don’t you?” Anna didn’t wait for the affirmation. She just pulled the same teat again until Jenny was on all fours above a milk stained carpet. Good thing it was already white. Anna gave a few more quick tugs for the good behaviour. “Ooooooooh!” Jennifer screamed. She had meant to say ‘Oh god!’ that time but lost her words as her pussy felt that familiar clenching which signaled the start of her orgasm. Anna took a step back to oversee her work. “Look at you. You are a cow, aren’t you Jenny?” “Aaaaaaaaaam noooooooooot aaaaaaaaaaa coooooooooooooooow!” said Jenny, still cumming. “Really, Jenny? Submissive women are cows. There you are - on the ground, on all fours. Like a cow. Your tits are hanging out, dripping milk. Like a cow. You even have four tits. Just like a cow. Because, Jenny, you are a cow.” Anna milked the two new teats for emphasis. That sent Jenny over the top. She came hard, and then came again as Anna continued milking her. Multiple orgasms without even touching her twat. What a lucky one Jenny was with her new teats. Anna could keep going her cumming all night without putting a finger inside of her. At least so long as she had the stamina to keep milking her new cow. Anna did have to stop. She still had one task left before fulfilling her contract. Besides, her hands were getting tired. Letting go of Jenny’s tits, Anna pulled the feeldoe out of her bag. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Especially given the lack of attention you’ve had so far down here.” Anna said as she slid the pony side into Jenny’s pussy. Given the moaning, it was clear Jenny did enjoy her new pseudo cock. Anna took a step back to view the newest herd member. “If it weren’t for your udders, some might think you were a bull instead of a bossy. But you’ve been bossy all your life haven’t you? Maybe that’s why your neighbors expressed interest in you getting our products? Maybe that’s why your step-daughter was so eager to buy this for you?” Anna surmised tapping the feeldoe. Jenny moaned in pleasure again, but her moans weren’t entirely to moos, yet. Anna wasn’t going to miss this chance to really milk her new cash cow. She looked at the uncharged credit-card on the coffee table then looked into Jenny’s eyes. “Kristen will be back soon. Would you like to buy her something in return?”  
  3. Naomi and Rachael by Julien Sorel (dg, lact. cow) If it is already posted here… Sorry theow… I looked for it and found nothing so Just out of college, Naomi Smith accepted the most difficult of teaching jobs, moving to a remote part of the Appalachians to teach children of all ages, many of whom had had no previous education at all, in a one-room schoolhouse. But Naomi was young and energetic enough to take on the arduous job with optimism. Naomi was a vivacious blonde from a small town in Kansas, slender and confident despite her inexperience. She had a fresh-faced, good-girl, clean-scrubbed beauty that had made more than one of the boys she had known think about marrying her. But she was idealistic and determined to do some good in the world. Though she wasn’t quite the virgin that her wholesome looks suggested, she didn’t flinch from leaving her social life behind for a world of poverty and hardship. Love and marriage would come in due time. Naomi had a special affinity for one of her students, a beautiful twelve-year-old girl named Rachael with tousled black hair cascading down to the small of her back, who walked three miles to and from school each day. Rachael was as poor as the rest of the students and none too articulate, but Naomi was drawn to the girl’s opaque gray eyes and quizzical expression. Rachael often stayed late to help Naomi with the classroom chores, and Naomi enjoyed taking the girl aside and trying to draw her out about her difficult rural life. One day after school, Naomi and Rachael were clapping the blackboard erasers on the back porch of the school building, which looked out into the dark, endless Appalachian woods. “What time do you get up in the morning, Rachael?” asked Naomi. “Four o’clock, ma’am.” “Four o’clock? Every morning?” “Yes, ma’am.” Naomi looked down at Rachael’s bare feet – almost none of her students wore shoes – and admired the girl’s long, slender toes. Playfully, Naomi slipped off one of her shoes and put her bare foot next to Rachael’s. “You know, I think you’d look pretty with toenail polish like mine, Rachael.” Rachael blushed a little at Naomi’s proximity but said nothing. “Your skin is so beautiful and dark. Don’t you think red polish would set it off nicely?” Naomi put her foot on Rachael’s for a second as if to show her the effect, then slid her foot away, lightly rippling her toes over Rachael’s. The girl’s blush deepened. “We don’t use things like that around here, ma’am,” she said breathily. Naomi smiled to herself. She had a harmless crush on beautiful little Rachael, the sort of crush she and her friends used to amuse themselves with before boys came into their lives. If she and Rachael were in seventh grade together, she would love to befriend the girl, take long walks in the fields with her after school, give her little presents, hold her in her arms as they lay in the grass watching the clouds…. Naomi shook her head a little as she clapped the erasers. She knew that she had perfect self-control and could afford to indulge these little fantasies. Maybe it’s time for me to find a man to date, she said to herself. “Why do you get up so early?” Naomi said. “Chores, ma’am.” “What kind of chores?” “Milking in the morning, and getting the eggs.” “Do you have cows?” “No ma’am, not any more.” “What do you milk, then? Goats?” “No, ma’am. It’s….” Rachael looked a little uncomfortable. “What?” “Ladies, ma’am.” “What about ladies?” “That’s what I milk.” Naomi was quite confused. “You mean human women?” “Yes, ma’am.” “Women with babies?” “No, ma’am. We keep them in the stables, and we milk them.” Naomi couldn’t believe her ears. “Women from around here are – are used as milking animals?” “They aren’t from here, ma’am.” “Where are they from?” “Strangers.” “Do they do this willingly? Do they want to be here?” “No, ma’am, not to start with. After a bit they get used to it, I guess.” “But this can’t be, Rachael! Are you playing a joke on me? Women don’t give milk just like that.” “Oh, they know how to make them milky.” “Who are ‘they’?” “My daddy, and my brothers.” “But, Rachael – doesn’t anyone know about these women? Don’t the police do anything?” “The law leaves my daddy alone, and he leaves them alone, I guess. Nobody wants trouble, ma’am.” This preposterous news seemed matter-of-fact to Rachael. Naomi sent the twelve-year-old home and paced the floor of the schoolroom anxiously, smoking a cigarette. What should she do? Calling the local police seemed futile, and possibly dangerous for her, if there was some kind of cover-up. She could try to alert federal authorities. But the story sounded so absurd – what if it wasn’t true? She was scared to venture onto the property of Rachael’s family to check for herself; but she couldn’t think of anyone else she could trust to look into the matter and not betray the confidence. Putting out her cigarette, she ran to the porch and looked down the path: Rachael was still visible in the distance, walking home. Naomi gathered up her courage and decided to act; she had never permitted fear to stop her before. If she found any evidence, she would return home immediately and contact the state police or the FBI. Throwing on a coat, she ran down the path, trying to keep Rachael in sight. ——————- A month later, Rachael rose at four o’clock and pulled on her overalls. The town had finally found a new teacher this week, and she was obliged to go to school again. She carried a pail out to the stables and opened the door to the first stall. There, in the gray light before dawn, Naomi was suspended naked across a wooden framework. She was badly in need of milking. Naomi turned her head, visibly less blonde from the stable dirt, and looked pleadingly toward Rachael as she approached. Her dirty face was streaked with tears; the pain from her milk-filled breasts was excruciating. Her mouth was covered by a feed bag that she had emptied overnight, but she made no sound even after Rachael removed the bag. Something had been injected into her throat a month ago, and she could no longer use her vocal cords or control her tongue and lips properly. Naomi stood like a horse, supported by the wooden frame. Her arms were propped on a wooden block to make her back horizontal, and both arms and legs were held still with ropes tied to the frame. Beneath her hung two giant breasts, many times bigger than she had formerly owned, tipped by massive nipples as long and thick as thumbs. Around her neck hung a large, unneeded cowbell that tinkled whenever she moved: a bit of mountain humor. Rachael sat on a stool next to Naomi and slid the pail beneath her former teacher’s turgid breasts, saying softly,”There, there, girl.” She poked a breast gently to see how full of milk it was; it bounced hard off her finger and bumped into its companion, setting off a series of elastic collisions. Naomi’s open mouth worked in silent agony as she stared at Rachael. She was yielding an inordinate quantity of milk; droplets were forming on her nipple tips and falling into the dirt. With the confidence of long practice, Rachael felt for a grip at the base of Naomi’s teats, pointed Naomi into the pail, and pulled hard, squeezing and sliding her long, dark fingers down the thick nipple. Naomi screamed silently with the unbearable jolt of pain; as if from a distance, she heard the now-familiar sound of her milk splattering hard against the bottom of the pail for what seemed like seconds. Rachael instantly pushed the first breast up into Naomi’s rib cage and found a new grip while simultaneously yanking Naomi’s other nipple down into the pail. The cowbell clanked as Naomi jerked violently and uselessly against the frame. Her naked body was covered in sweat within seconds. After the first few pulls, the agonizing pain in Naomi’s milky breasts began to subside a little, and to combine with an erotic tingle that was almost indistinguishable from the pain, and just as hard to endure. Naomi’s teats and Rachael’s fingers had become slippery with Naomi’s milk, and the expert twelve-year-old used the slickness to develop a steady milking rhythm, squeezing Naomi just tightly enough to pull a spurt of milk out of her before her hand slid off the wet nipple, then letting Naomi bounce back and bobble for a second before finding the teat again. Helpless with pain and longing as the milk was drawn from her ever-lightening chest, Naomi looked over at the beautiful little girl who held her whole being in her slender hands. Rachael’s lovely face held no expression as she worked mechanically at Naomi’s teats; Naomi could see the edges of Rachael’s young, perfect breasts behind the scoop of her overalls. The girl’s bare feet were planted on each side of the pail; they were spattered with the dirt and dung of the stable, some of it Naomi’s, and with drops of Naomi’s milk that had splashed out of the pail. Rachael saw Naomi looking over at her; the arousing ache in Naomi’s bulging nipples suddenly seemed unbearable, and she shook pathetically against her bonds, trying in vain to pull her teats out of Rachael’s constricting, caressing grip. Rachael looked up and said, “There now, girl” in a calming but emotionless voice. Soon Naomi subsided again into a state of miserable arousal. Finally Naomi was milked nearly dry; she had filled an entire pail, and her breasts had gone a little wrinkled and slack, though they still dangled more than a foot below her ribs. Rachael stood up and petted Naomi’s back, the sweat puddling on her bare skin. Naomi’s face was swollen and pleading as she caught her student’s eye. “There, girl,” Rachael said as she walked around to Naomi’s ass, pushed into the air by the crossbar of the framework. Without the least shyness, Rachael slid the palm of her hand into Naomi’s wet sex and worked it back and forth vigorously against her clitoris with broad, rough strokes. Naomi’s eyes rolled back into her head, and her sopping wet body immediately convulsed in a long, agonizing orgasm. Rachael continued her businesslike masturbation of Naomi until the cowbell had nearly stopped clanking. Naomi hung exhausted from the wooden frame, staring at the ground and panting. Rachael took a dirty towel from the wall, cleaned her hand with it, then wiped Naomi down: the sweat still running off her now-slack body, the sex juices trickling down her thighs, the milk dribbling from her well-handled teats, the spit dripping from her open mouth, the tears running down her cheeks. When Rachael was done drying Naomi, she filled the feed bag with a mixture from a barrel outside the door, then strapped the bag over Naomi’s mouth; Rachael pushed the bag gently into Naomi’s face, and Naomi obediently began chewing, still looking at the ground. Then Rachael picked up the pail and closed the door behind her, leaving Naomi hanging from the wooden frame, chewing mechanically. Her chest was already beginning to swell; by sunset she would be ready for another milking. Anonymous poster hash: d6855...337
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