Give in and latch onto Bessie's nipple, drinking her milk to stabilize my blood sugar

Paradise Breeding Farm, Rural Nowhere, at 8:25 PM on Monday, April 15th, 2024 (Day 1 of 7).

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You surrender to the overwhelming need, parting your lips and latching onto Bessie's thick, engorged nipple. The first warm spurt of milk floods your mouth—rich, creamy, impossibly sweet with an underlying saltiness that makes your taste buds sing. You swallow reflexively, then again, then again as the flow increases.

"That's it," Bessie murmurs, her large hand cradling the back of your head gently. "Drink as much as you need."

The milk comes faster now, flooding your mouth in steady pulses that match Bessie's heartbeat. You gulp greedily, suddenly aware of how desperately thirsty you've been. Each swallow sends warmth spreading through your chest, and within seconds you can feel your trembling beginning to subside.

"Look at her go," Amber says from the adjacent stall, her voice tinged with admiration. "She's starving."

You drink and drink, your hands coming up to steady Bessie's massive breast as you nurse. The cowgirl sighs with relief as you drain her, the painful tension in her swollen flesh gradually easing. Her milk tastes different than it did this morning during the milking—warmer, somehow more intimate when taken directly from the source.

"Good girl," Bessie whispers, stroking your hair. "Take what you need."

You drain her right breast completely, gasping when you finally pull away. Milk drips from your chin and you wipe it with the back of your hand, already feeling more alert.

"My turn," Amber announces. ARIA must have unlocked her stall door because it swings open and the tabby catgirl pads over, her smaller but still substantial breasts already beading with milk. "Come on, Lily. I'm dying here."

You crawl the short distance to Amber, who immediately presents her chest at mouth-level. Her nipples are smaller than Bessie's, darker pink, and when you latch on her milk comes in quick, thin streams rather than heavy pulses. The flavor is slightly different—sweeter, less creamy, with a faint vanilla undertone.

Amber mewls softly, her clawed fingers threading through your hair as you nurse. "Oh fuck, that feels so good," she breathes. "Don't stop."

You work methodically between both her breasts, draining each one while she purrs and kneads your scalp gently. By the time you finish, your head has cleared significantly and the dangerous shaking has stopped entirely.

"Daisy's next," Celeste calls out. "Then me, then Seraphina, then Kitsune. We'll make sure you're completely stabilized."

Daisy's stall door opens and the pregnant cowgirl beckons you over with obvious relief in her expression.

"Come here, little one," she says warmly. "Let me help you."