Chapter Four
Evan stood in Lena’s bathroom mirror with a borrowed soft shirt stretched across a chest that had become small, tender breasts overnight.
The tissue was real and soft, heavy enough that walking made him aware of every step.
His hips felt wider in the waistband of his jeans.
When he pressed under one breast a thin stream of milk wet his palm.
Panic tried to stand up. Want stood up with it and won.
Lena leaned in the doorway watching. “How do you like what I’ve done to your body?”
“I’m scared,” he said. “But I want more. I want you.”
“Put that fear to bed where I can use it.”
He followed her. She stripped him and put him on his back. She opened him with oil and fingers, then took him again, slow and deep, while her hands worked his chest with a milking rhythm that made him moan.
Milk striped his ribs. She licked a drop off her thumb and fucked him harder for it. She made him watch in the freestanding mirror: his spreading thighs, his bouncing chest, her long dark brown hair falling around them while she took him.
“Say what you’re becoming.”
“Yours,” he gasped.
“Wrong,” she said. “You’re my cow. My hucow.”
“I’m your cow. Your hucow. Oh, fuck. Please don’t stop.”
She seated a thick plug in him when she pulled out, sealing her load inside him, and turned him onto his side.
The plug stretched him full and mean. She stroked his cock until he was leaking and denied him, then removed the plug and entered him again from behind, chest to his back, both hands under him milking while she fucked him through another long set.
She slapped his ass, then the underside of one breast carefully enough that milk spurted and shame flooded him hotter than the sting.
“You take that so well,” Lena said near his ear, delighted. “Leaking for me. Full of me.”
When she finally let him come it was with her fist around him and her cock buried deep and her mouth on his shoulder saying his name. She filled him again. The plug went back in. Milk dried on his skin in sticky trails.
He lay shaking. His chest ached heavy. His hole held the plug like it belonged there.
Lena traced the line of his breast with one finger. “Tonight the belly will start to show if we keep this pace. Are you prepared.”
Evan’s hand found the plug base and pressed. Pleasure sparked. Fear sparked with it.
He nodded. “I’m staying the night,” he said.
She kissed his temple and She leave him alone long enough for doubt to organize. Mid-evening she had him crawl a slow circle of the kitchen so the plug and the udder could teach him how he moved now. Milk beaded with each shift of his weight. His cock swung heavy and ignored.
Lena sat on a stool with her own cock in her fist and watched until she was fully hard, then made him present on all fours by the fridge while she fucked his mouth deep enough that he moaned around her.
“Kitchen floor,” she said after. “Ass up. I want to take you where you make coffee.”
He put his cheek to cool tile. She oiled him around the plug, pulled it free, and pushed into his ass in one long thrust that punched a moan out of him. She milked both breasts in firm pulls timed to her hips until white wetness spotted the tile under his chest.
“Moo for me.”
He did, broken and quiet.
She rewarded him with harder thrusts and a hand on his throat that made him feel how much he wanted leather there.
She came deep and reseated the plug, wiped the tile with a towel, and made him thank her for the mess.
“Thank you for using me in your kitchen.”
“You’re welcome.” She pulled him up by the hair, gentle enough not to truly hurt, hard enough to mean it, and kissed him with milk and spit still on both their mouths. “Bed. On your back with your knees open while I work these udders. Then sleep. Morning is collar day.”