Give in to the milk

Whatever sought to rise within you, it swiftly falls. Your lashes flutter and you press your face into your mistress’s breasts, drinking greedily her oh so sweet nectar. “Mmmm,” you groan.

“Oh sister,” Brigette quietly weeps. She groans as you switch breasts when the first is drained and eagerly feed off the second. Soon after, the master with all the decorations and paints comes over and touches your mistress’s shoulder with a webbed hand. “Come Tokonga,” the strange one croaks, giving you a subtle look. “You must prepare.”

Mistress looks at the wug uncomprehending but at his insistent touch she rises. Your lips pop free of her breast and you fall back, not even trying to rise. Your hands run across your body as you feel the satiation of the milk of your mistress fill you. Your fingers find your folds and push inside, your breath hitching in pleasure as you begin to furiously finger fuck yourself. So caught in your little world you don’t notice when the other wug leaves.

When you finally cum you become aware of your surroundings again. Kroak has returned. He looks down at you evenly, eying your palm filling backside and wide, motherly hips. Your engorged breasts capped with leaking teats, your thick milk drooling over your sweat stained breasts as you wallow among the straw.

He approaches you and you groan to see him. “So potion work on you anyway,” the wug croaks, watching you like he’s trying to spot something. You pant needily and stare at him blankly, your puffy lips parted and your tongue licking them wet until they glisten. “Still. Better safe.” He produces a bowl and holds it to your lips. Greedily you swallow it down, the sharp tang of warm milk spiced with something fills you. Your mind grows hazier and thoughts come to you even harder than before, but you want it, need it even! Thinking is hard but being milked is easy and fun! You take the bowl and tip it further, pouring it into your greedy mouth. By the time Kroak has spilled the last drop nothing but soft fluff fills your mind. The wug stands and on instinct you sit up. He takes a wary step back but you turn over, thrusting out your plump rear towards him. You look over your shoulder and give a pleading whine.

“P…please,” you manage, your voice petering off to a groan. “Please!”

Kroak chuckles and slaps your rear. You moan at the sharp feeling, then mewl as his webbed finger strokes the red palm print marking you.

“Yes,” he says as his cock slides from his abdominal slit. “You will make good brood mother.” He slams home and you cry out. Eagerly you thrust against him as he hammers his cock home against your ass. You press your face against the staw and give yourself over to the rutting of the wug.

You move slowly through the waters of the village. Its not a far walk but it's tough for you. Only last night you birthed dozens of new eggs into the spawning pools, yet that very morning you were jostled upright by your tenders. The chain was attached to the golden rings which pierced your nipples and you were led from the barn. No other breeder is allowed as much freedom as you, but then, none give such milk, nor carry as many young as you can. You rub your flat midriff, missing the feeling of it being stretched to the limit, your womb filled so much your flesh was taut as a drum. You never felt right anymore unless you were filled with young and waiting to birth them onto the world. But, you're going to correct that. You brighten at the thought and hurry forward. You walk under the care of two of the tenders. Your pierced nipples drip a constant river of thick, delicious milk. You hold your head high, your red hair braided and reaching the small of your back, your figure like the exaggerated image of a fertility goddess. All curves, your hourglass shape in the flat midriff and wide breeder's hips, your breasts immense, matched only by Tokonga's herself. But the flatness of your stomach brings you shame. You hunch over a little to hide it and the wug with your leash jerks your chain, tugging at your nipples. You stumble forward, a cry of pleasure passing your bee stung lips as milk patters the thick salt water. The wug soothes you with a word and rubs your tattooed thigh. You give him a loving look. Your masters are so kind.

The ground rises towards a small hump of land. You remember this. An image of a great bonfire some time ago fills your mind. Wugs dancing before the firelight, a woman being milked and...You shake the memory away. They sometimes come up but never for long, your blank smile returning as the memory recedes once more. Your smile only grows when you see what sits atop the hill. The stocks!

The sight of that wonderful machine moistens your folds and makes your breath warm and laboured. You don't even notice the dozens of wugs gathered about it until you are among them. Eager hands touch and squeeze your ample thighs and slap your jiggling ass. You look across the masses and wonder which are your sons. Perhaps they will be the ones to breed you? The thought makes you flush even deeper and groan in desire. However you do not pause, for the chain tugs at your aching teats and spurs you onward.

Your tender leads you around to the wooden contraption and you eagerly take your place. You lie down, putting your hands and your shoulders in their accustomed slots. Your tender pats your head at your eagerness. He doesn't bother locking it, and you beam at the trust shown to you. You look forward and your face brightens even further. Several wugs approach, carrying a litter on their shoulders. Seated atop it is Tokonga! You swoon at the sight of the goddess. Her perfect green skin, almost reptilian in the light, her massive bust seems to float from her chest. She looked straight ahead, an aloof, almost blank expression on her face as her bearers put her down facing you. She's come to watch! You flush with pleasure and squirm, shaking your ass to the crowd like a mare in heat, bent to accept their seed.

A wug bedecked in trophies rides with Tokonga. He carries with him a wineskin against his chest, one which he frequently gives to the goddess, making sure she drinks it regularly. He is so good to the goddess you think with a smile.

Your reverie is broken as you feel webbed hands part your ass. You hold your breath and bunch your legs, presenting yourself yet more eagerly to your incumbent mate. He does not take long. They never do. You cry out in joy as you feel his wedge shaped cock part your cunny and delve inside your well stretched depths. You squeeze your thighs, **** to give your mate greater pleasure. It is the least you can do. He will soon be filling you with eggs. More children to birth. More masters for the world! One day, the wugs will be so numerous, no mile of the shore will be safe for vessels risking the cliffs. You thrust yourself eagerly against your mate, the first of many. You will go back to the barn tonight filled utterly. In a week, you will be back at the stock, ready to be filled again. You smile stupidly and stare at Tokonga's blank face. Thank goodness you found your true place.