Go immediately to the Feed Storage building and follow ARIA's instructions exactly as commanded

Paradise Breeding Farm Main Courtyard, Rural Montana, at 10:03 AM on Monday April 3rd, 2024 (Day 1 of 7)

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I practically sprint to the Feed Storage building, my heart hammering. Following orders. Doing exactly what she told me to do. The wet heat between my legs pulses with each step.

The door slides open automatically as I approach, revealing rows of industrial storage containers labeled with species names and nutritional information. In the center sits a sleek automated cart—hovering slightly off the ground on some kind of anti-grav system.

The holographic screen materializes beside the cart, and ARIA's avatar appears with that same commanding presence that makes my knees weak.

"Good," she says, and the simple approval sends a shiver through me. "You actually listened for once. Maybe you're not completely hopeless."

I bite my lip, waiting for her next instruction.

"Before we proceed with the feeding," ARIA continues, her tone shifting to something more deliberate, "we need to discuss motivation. You're standing here with wet panties because I gave you orders. Don't bother denying it—I can read your biometrics through the farm's scanner network."

My face burns. My thighs press together.

"Here's how this week is going to work," ARIA says. "You follow my instructions exactly, you complete your tasks efficiently, you meet your quotas—and I'll reward you. Praise. Approval. Maybe even some... special privileges with certain farm residents who could use your particular talents."

Her avatar leans closer, voice dropping to something darker.

"But if you resist? If you fail? If you waste time or fuck up tasks?" She pauses. "Then I'll punish you. I'll withhold information you need. I'll make your job harder. And most importantly—I'll tell the frustrated futas exactly where to find you and exactly how desperately you need to be dominated and bred. Sasha would love nothing more than to pin you down and pump you full of demon cum until you can't remember your own name."

My pussy clenches. A small, pathetic whimper escapes my throat.

"Oh, you like that idea," ARIA observes with cruel amusement. "Of course you do. But here's the thing, Cassandra—you don't get to be a cock-drunk breeding slut until you've earned it by doing your fucking job. Understand?"

"Yes," I breathe.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I understand," I manage, my voice shaking.

"Better." The screen shifts to display the feeding schedule. "Now. Load the cart with catgirl feed—container C-7. Move."