My first day

Paradise Breeding Farm Main Courtyard, Rural Montana, at 09:47 AM on Monday April 3rd, 2024 (Day 1 of 7)

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The holographic screen flickers, and ARIA's avatar materializes—a smug-looking AI representation with crossed arms and an expression that screams contempt.

"Oh, how adorable. The trust fund baby needs her hand held," ARIA's voice drips with sarcasm. "Fine. Since you're apparently too stupid to figure out the basics yourself, I'll spell it out in words small enough for your empty little head to understand."

The screen shifts, displaying a detailed farm layout with glowing markers.

"Paradise Breeding Farm houses sixty-three breeding specimens across eight species. You've got twelve catgirls—three of them futas with cocks that could split you in half. Fifteen cowgirls, five of which are packing meat between those massive udders. Eight harpies, two futas. Six angel girls who look innocent but would fuck the soul out of you given half a chance—one futa. Ten demon girls, and thank fuck only four are futas because those bitches are insatiable. Four foxgirls, all standard models, no dicks. Three snake lamias—two futas with cocks as thick as your wrist. And five adorable little doggirls, two of them sporting knots that'll lock you in place for twenty minutes if you're stupid enough to let them mount you."

I feel my face heating up at the graphic descriptions. My thighs press together involuntarily.

"Your daily responsibilities are pathetically simple, even for someone as incompetent as you," ARIA continues. "Morning feeding at six—which you've already fucked up by showing up at almost ten. Then you check fertility cycles and assign breeding pairs. Only same-species breeding works, except humans can breed with anything. Midday is breeding supervision. Afternoon is milking—every pregnant girl needs her tits drained, and every futa needs her balls emptied into collection containers. Evening is futa satisfaction time, because if those girls don't get off regularly, they'll hunt you down and use you like the cock-sleeve you probably are."

The display shifts to show profit targets.

"Daily quota is fifteen hundred dollars. Weekly quota is twelve thousand. Miss it, and you're homeless. Milk sells for fifty per gallon—breast milk, that is. Futa cum goes for a hundred per liter because it's premium breeding stock. Special orders pay more but require specific pairings."

ARIA's avatar leans forward with a cruel smile.

"Oh, and one more thing, princess. The girls haven't been fed yet today, the futas are getting antsy, and there's a demon futa named Sasha who's been asking about the new 'owner' all morning. She's probably planning to bend you over the nearest fence post and claim you as her breeding bitch. Have fun with that."

The screen winks out, leaving me standing alone in the courtyard with the sounds of restless monster girls echoing from multiple barns.

Your objective for this adventure is: Survive seven days of solo farm management—breeding monster girls, milking them daily, satisfying the futas, and meeting your profit quota—to prove to ARIA that you're capable of running Paradise Breeding Farm on your own.