Chapter Text
Parks & Ponies.
Milking the Issue.
“So here I am, beating the life out of this pervert…”
This hell has been reality for the past 4 hours, Trixie’s lips flapping incessantly as she regaled to me the many tales of her life thus far; from her first prom dance, to her first relationship, and now one of the many times some poor soul decided to try their hand in mugging her. It got to the point where I no longer responded verbally, just nods to appease her so she wouldn’t decide I’d be better in her stomach rather than outside of it. It seemed to work because she kept on talking.
I massaged my temples, feeling the limits of bearing witness to this nonstop bullshit was nearing rapidly, patience waning quickly. I groaned lightly, wishing she would catch the memo that I’m not interested in whatever tangent she’s on about and stop, but she ignored it or didn’t notice it, and chugged down a bottle of water. I stole a glance her way only to be deterred and turned away, just seeing her white teeth continuously move with no signs of stopping anytime soon was maddening, nearly enough to kick off a migraine.
*RING* *RING*
I nearly praised Celestia when my phone rang, giving me a plausible excuse to no longer give Trixie my attention, only for the fanfare to die prematurely as I saw who had sent me the message: Lightning Dust. I have absolutely no idea what her problem was, but we both got off on the wrong foot and it’s been sour ever since then, so when I caught sight of the message she sent me saying: “I need you for something.” Needless to say, I was pretty skeptical.
I didn’t want to ignore her, however, as that may spur her to fly over her and eat me which I wanted to avoid, and instead opted to ask her why. Not a moment later had I sent her the text had she replied with quite the colorful response. “I don’t need to fucking justify myself to you, fuckwit pervert. Either you come, or you don’t!” Naturally, I was upset she was using such vulgar language so early when all I did was ask for further information on this vague request, she sent me. I waited not a second before typing: “Sorry, got work, won’t be able to.” I don’t know if my lie worked for, she should have known that I was on break at the moment, but it did as she sent me an ‘Alright’ which I was more than happy with.
Checking the time on my phone, I realized that I only had 15 minutes left before I was required to return to work. With nothing else to occupy my time, listening to Trixie any further was a no-no if I wanted to stay sane, I elected to return to work earlier than my time was up. Who knows, maybe I’ll get my work done quicker and have time to do some pottery afterwards. That’ll be the highlight of the day.
But as I began my trek to my workstation, I felt a hindrance take hold of my arm and pull me back. Naturally, I tried to pull away, thinking that my sleeve just got caught on something, only for the pressure on my arm to increase and for the pulling to get stronger. Perplexed, I looked back to see the source of this hindrance and saw that Trixie was the culprit all along, looking at me with a pleading look, her shirt completely discarded leaving only her bra to poorly provide as a shield for her gargantuan HHH-cup tits.
It was only natural that I explode with righteous indignation, being a teenager who can barely keep his shit together and all that jazz. “What the hell are you doing?!” I asked quite heatedly, and rightfully so, yanking my arm out of her grip… alright, I tried to, but being a mare, she was naturally stronger than me. It didn’t help my case that she increased the pressure of her grip tenfold and it actually started to hurt a bit.
“I know what I’m about to ask you is absurd and we’re hardly on the friendliest terms.” My brain nearly crashed when she somehow displayed more awareness than I pegged her capable of. “But I really need you to milk me.” She requested with the most pleading eyes I’ve ever seen a mare dawn.
Now, requesting to be milked wasn’t a strange request since it has become somewhat of a social norm in recent years and was entirely legal, and not to toot my own horn or anything, but I’ve successfully milked my fare share of 5 mares since I reached the age of 14, the legal age for ponies to begin milking mares. Alas, I was still taken aback by her request, it had come so suddenly and without warning that I had trouble formulating an appropriate response. “Why don’t you ask the other girls?” I asked.
She averted her gaze from my own, her light azure cheeks invaded by an embarrassed red blush. “I don’t trust the other girls and the local spa is a bit pricey when it comes to the milk treatment, and I don’t have the money to do so.” She admitted, her gaze returning to my own. “So please, I’m begging you, milk me.” She pleaded.
I was naturally unsure about accepting her request, her grip loosening allowing me to free it and turn away. I caressed the area where her grip was applied, seeing that it had become red under the sleeves; she must have applied more pressure than she thought. But that wasn’t as pressing of an issue as I’d like to make it sound, so I gave it a passing thought before pondering on this peculiar situation I found myself in.
She wasn’t lying when she said we weren’t on the friendliest terms, I could hardly say I would happily spend time with any of the girls I work with, but she wasn’t Lightning Dust levels of bad where I would actively try to avoid her at any possible angle I could. But I was still inclined to say no, only held back as she was clearly in stress and was in dire need of help, and the fact she chose to ask me to help instead of the others when she new her relationship with them were possibly better than ours, barring Lightning Dust as that girl had the power to repel anyone who glanced her way. It was a difficult decision to make.
I turned to see Trixie as if it would give me the answer I was looking for, which was a mistake on my end as she was pushing her boobs up and down. I stared partially in disbelief, the mare trying to lure me in with my adolescent mind, ignorant of the fact that I had built an iron-wall tolerance for that sort of shit a long time ago and it would take more than boob pushing to get me to help her. Either way, I turned back around and thought hard about this. Once the inevitable decision became clear, I sighed.
“I’ll milk you, but I’d rather not do it out in the open where everyone can see us.”
Her face lit up the moment I said that and she pulled me into a smothering embrace that had the potential to be suffocating if she hadn’t retracted it, a painful expression on her face as she pulled back. She must’ve been really held up. “Already got that covered.” She said as her horn lit up with her light purple aura, and before I could protest the use of magic, the scenery changed, and we were in her dorm room.
“Touch anything and I’ll eat you after you milk me.” Her brisk, quite hostile warning was expected, the mountains of accessories all pertaining to her craft as a magician no doubt expensive and valuable.
My focus was not on what she possessed, however, but squarely on her as she unfastened her bra, allowing her massive melons to flop out with no restriction whatsoever. “I’ve been held up for a month and a half, so be gentle sweetheart.” She explained, closing her eyes, getting into the appropriate position. She was ready.
I, on the other hand, was not as ready as she was and subconsciously tried to prolong the process as long as I could. “You sure we don’t need a bucket? This does look like it could get pretty messy pretty quick.” I suggested.
As expected, she shook her head, eyes still closed. “I’ll clean it later.” She dismissed my suggestion without a second breath.
“But we already have such a large sch-”
Apparently, she was fed up with my procrastinating, reaching out and pulling one of my hands to touch her right boob. The moment my fingers touched the surface of her skin, I was simply astonished, the feeling was surreal, almost like a balloon that was filled with glue, the natural thick skin the only thing that kept the skin from bursting. I gasped, met with resistance when I plunged my fingers deeper. I could feel just how thick the milk was. She must’ve been miserable.
“I don’t like requesting someone so young to milk me, but as you can see, waiting any longer isn’t an option.” She looked at me, dead in the eye, her face radiating with need. “Please, I’ll see what I can do to repay you somehow, but I can’t go another day like this.” She pleaded once more.
With no other avenue of escape, I sighed, conceding to her request as I reached out with my left hand to her right boob. But instead of pushing the milk out like I had done previous times, I decided to press my fingers into her skin with a little more pressure than last time. This continued until I was essentially giving her a boob massage until I could feel the milk loosen adequately,
“Sweetie… why… aren’t you… milking me?” She questioned, one eye open to peer at my work, her words separated by euphoric moans as she was no doubt enjoying this but was still begging for release.
I shrugged. “This milk is incredibly thick, pushing it out now would feel like pushing glue through a straw.” I didn’t need to look up to see her cocked eyebrow, confused by my analogy. “Don’t question it.” I said, dismissing her confusion. It worked as she closed her eyes and moaned.
This process would continue for the next grueling 5 minutes – hey, her boobs were so fucking huge I need both hands for one, give a damn break – until the milk arrived at the consistency that I was happy with so it wouldn’t be agonizing to push out. I reached out with each hand, grasping a nipple with my index and thumb. I inhaled heavily, bracing for what was coming, and pulled.
Immediately, milk gushed forward with incredible speed and terrible precision, splashing everywhere and anywhere it could reach. And when I say everywhere, I fucking mean EVERYWHERE, including my uniform. As one could guess, I wasn’t happy with this admittedly predictable outcome, scowling upsettingly, my clothes sticking to me due to the milk.
Trixie let out a long, drawn out moan as the grand feeling of relief washed over her. “Mmm… I needed that.” She praised, opening her eyes, grimacing at the mess before her. “Oof, maybe I should have gotten a bucket.” She commented.
I would have blurted out ‘no shit Sherlock’ if I wasn’t frowning so uncontrollably that speech would not happen. She smiled, chuckling as she reached her hand behind my head. “I know I said I’d pay you back, and this might not look like payback to you,” She began slowly pushing me to her right boob. “But…” Not a word later and she smushed my face into her melon, her grape-sized nipple piercing the barrier of my lips and resting firmly on my tongue. “Suckle.”
A simple demand, one that left no room for confusion, but one that I decided not to follow. I grabbed both sides and tried pushing back, but her natural mare physiology meant that I was held in pace. “Look Crimson, either you suckle now, or I’ll be shitting feathers in a couple of hours.” She threatened, pushing my head harder. “I’m serious.” She added, an edge of danger in her voice.
With a grumble, I complied with her demand and began suckling. “Good boy.” She praised, moaning as she ruffled my red/white mane. I could only frown.
Now, in spite of my unwillingness to drink her milk, I had to admit it didn’t taste all that bad. It had a tint of blueberry to it, parting a tarty aftertaste, just enough to compliment the natural sweetness of lac… wait a minute… am I really describing the taste of breast milk? At age 15?! And enjoying it?!?!?!? Wow, she’s never going to let me live this down. Might as well enjoy it while I can.
(Later)
By the end of this nursing session, I was left with a beer gut barring the actual beer, milk instead churning away loudly, hinting at a disastrous bathroom session in the foreseeable future. “I hope I’m not lactose intolerant.” I said, inspecting the curve of it with a fascination I didn’t know I had.
She on the other hand smiled, panting from the experience. “Thanks sweetie, I really needed that.” She expressed gratitude. “I got a spare set of clothes if you need them.” She offered.
I shook my head. “That’d be unnecessary, it’s hot outside so it’ll dry up relatively quickly.” I replied.
She glowers unamusingly. “You’re seriously fine with working with all that milk stuck to you?” She asked, a nonchalant nod from me confirming her accession. “You’re a pervert.” She said before laying down, kicking me off her bed.
I only shrugged. “Say what you will, doesn’t matter.” I said, standing up and leaving the room, slightly upset that I was 10 minutes late for work after this strange strange occurrence. Maybe I could convince my boss to cut me slack and not cut my pay this month… maybe not.