Milking McCree

December 1st

On the morning of December 1st, you walk up to an absolutely insane barnhouse. A cacophony of baying and braying and yowling hits you like a truck in the face when you open the doors. Ah, yes, the end of the suffering of many a bull. No doubt they're all just waiting for you to get to work. Patience, dear bulls. Patience.

"Boss!" One bull in particular moos at you with a dazed, mindless look on his handsome face. "Boss, please!"

"What's the matter, my darling?" You saunter up to him and tilt his head up, revealing a tear-stained face and matted fur, his thick facial hair almost obscuring his pillowy lips from your view. "Come, Jesse, speak."

Jesse McCree, one of your best breeding bulls, whimpers and nuzzles into your hand. "Pl-please, let me cum, boss. Mistress. Mistress, mercy, please?" His body, positioned upright on his feet, ripples as he shifts in place. "Mistress."

Cooing gently at him, you kiss his lips and smooth the hair away from his eyes, reaching up for a lever even as you soothe him. "It'll be over in a few minutes, darling. It's December 1st today. Almost there." The mechanisms in the ceiling above his pen grind and clank into action, heaving as they manipulate his body into the optimal position for seed milking.

From his original position on his feet, upright, the chains and wooden stocks pull him to bend over a modified bench, his chest resting on the padded surface while his hooves remain firmly on the floor. His cock sways between his legs as you shove the mating bench into place, his balls squishing together painfully when you lock his ankles into position. You feel bad limiting his movement when he so clearly wants to fuck to his heart's content, but your safety is also paramount. You're not going to take a hoof to the face just because you have to stand behind him to insert a fucking machine.

Once he's locked into place, you remove the wooden stocks holding his wrists next to his ears, letting him flop his muscular arms down weakly. McCree shakes his head dazedly, pressing his cheek to the headrest to watch you prepare; he's so wracked with trembling desire that he can't even move. He thought he would, at first, but an entire month of frustration and pent up desire would suck the energy out of even the most randy bull.

"Ready, baby?" You kiss his cheek, going down to your knees.

"Y-yes, boss," he whimpers faintly, hooves shifting beneath him as he widens his stance. Ever so eager for your touch where he's hurting the most. "Ohhh, oh! Oh fuck yes, boss, YES!"

With a single touch, you jolt him back into sanity. His huge cock bobs before your eyes to the beat of his heart, his balls clenching up so tightly to his body that they look like two huge apples hidden behind the bulk of his mammoth cock. Your hand doesn't even manage to curl around his thickness, your thumb and forefinger so far apart that you'd need to use your other palm in order to close the circle, so you do, scorching both hands with his intense heat.

"Mmm, you're so big, baby," you purr up at him, pressing your face to his trembling thigh. Globs of precum drip from his hungry cock, the thick veins surrounding his flesh looking so juicy that you just can't help yourself. You have to have him in your mouth.

"Shit!" McCree's eyes bulge out comically, pupils fully dilated and jaw tight, his lips pulled back over his teeth as he snarls out into the musky air. "Oh shit! I'm going to-! I can't stop it, Boss- I- Boss!"

With just one touch of your tongue to the underside of his head, McCree cums with an earsplitting bray. His hips slam against the padded side of the bench, his thighs bunching and relaxing as he cums buckets into the cum receiver that you pull over just in time. Fire and ice explode through his veins, clearing his brain of anything except breed breed breed. It sends him into a lust-fuelled frenzy, his eyes going feral and his brain returning to age-old instincts, forcing him to throw himself further into the bench as though it would get him closer to your mouth.