You make a feeble attack

Your lust and **** heaviness are no match for your desire to protect Brigette. Although your secret desire may be to be turned into a human milk cow, you cannot allow the medicine wug to turn your beloved companion into something almost as bad.

Kroak has his back turned and seems drained by his orgasm. Sensing what might be your only opportunity, you **** yourself up onto your hands and knees and then onto your feet. For a moment you sway from side to side, trying to fight off the vertigo. Your milky tits jiggle, huge and engorged, and you stagger forward off-balance.

What you intend as an attack winds up more like an effort to keep from falling over. You grab at Kroak and catch one of his charms in your desperately fumbling hand. The cord tying it around his rubbery flesh snaps and dozens of tiny beads go clattering across the floor. The old wug whirls on you, seizing hold of your forearms with his clawed hands. His eyes are wide and unblinking.

"You have strong will," he croaks. "No fear. I have potent drink for you."

"Can't... can't do this to... Tokonga..."

With surprising strength, Kroak turns you around and sits you heavily on a low wooden bench near the warmth of his hut's fire. You breathe in the hazy, herbal smoke and your dizziness worsens. The heat of the fire on your face and on your bare breasts makes you feel feverish.

"See now you may try stop me. Give you medicine now." He picks up the bowl filled with a concoction of herbs, elixirs, and his fresh semen. He swirls a finger in it to mix it thoroughly. The strong musk of his cum makes you moan with desire. "You want, don't you? Be good breeder. Never have to worry. Never have to struggle."

Kroak lashes out at you and seizes your cheeks in his pinches claw. He tilts your head back roughly and presses the bowl to your lips. You resist him, trying to close your lips and **** your tongue into the flow of liquid as it oozes into your mouth. The salty tang of wug spunk melts down your tongue and trickles into your throat. Your will to resist him fades with the strong, addicting flavor and you moan and begin to swallow Kroak's potion.

"Good cow," he says. "Drink it all. Milk of loins."

The potion slides down your throat and warms your belly. He releases you and your head tilts back even further and you find yourself staring up at the ceiling. You feel easy and happy. You begin to chuckle as a bit of drool spills down your chin. Kroak eases you off the bench and onto the floor beside the fire.

"Sleep now, pretty cow," he croaks.

You feel happy and warm. Kroak is good. He cares for you. He will make sure you are happy all the time. You try to speak to him, to thank him, but only two words come out from your lips.

"Yes... sleep..."

Darkness closes in around you.