Kitten hadn't thought twice as she'd opened the cooler and removed the half-full glass of milk. Not a single hesitant thought had crossed her mind as she'd emptied the vial of holstaur milk into the glass and tucked it back in among the cheeses. She hadn't thought anything of the fact that Master would be guided there when he returned, that Bobbin would certainly want to keep him hydrated after the affair with the alraune, that he would drink it without even realizing what he was doing.

Kitten didn't think much.

The catgirl smiled as she watched Senya leaving, the pail swinging in his hand, his eyes a lovely shade of empty. Part of her longed to follow him, to share in his bliss...

... but that was not part of the plan.

No, she would stay here for now, the sweet and mild Kitten for her owners' enjoyment. Let Jerrod and Bobbin go on thinking that everything was under control, that all they had to worry about was Market Day.

They didn't even seem to think anything of the fleece sprites' upcoming shearing.

Valina couldn't wait to see if Master even lasted that long.

To the Esteemed Lady Anya Wetherdean,

It is with no shortage of trepidation that I write this letter. I understand that Duke Horatio values your services very highly, and I certainly have no wish to antagonize your people against mine. Unfortunately, I am forced to be the bearer of news that is bad.

We have been sending your letters, as originally requested. Unfortunately, every single bird has returned to us, unable to complete its destined flight, due to a faulty address. This is frustrating to them and to us, as well as to you and, no doubt, your elusive brother. It has therefore been concluded that an errand girl will be sent down at once to track down this mysterious forest ranch and deliver the letters in person. She was sent a day ago, and should have arrived there by the time this bird reaches you.

I am terribly sorry for the delay in this notice, and hope that your fears have been assuaged. Heaven knows we can't have such an important mage teleporting around in our lands over a misunderstanding.

Warmest regards,

Sato Yuuma

Chief Postmaster of the Bardic Orders

P.S. If I may, I would like to add a personal note. According to what you have told me of this location, I would guess that it is in the Gokuri Forests. This is where we have sent the errand girl. I grew up near the region before traveling across the seas, and as far as I know, the immigration of those from the Lacratian continent was never agreed to by the Gokuri natives. I am not certain what your brother was expecting to find there, but I cannot imagine an entire ranch run by Lacratians could be legal. He should have consulted with locals before venturing off with these friends of his uncle's.

He may be in terrible danger right now. If I were you, I would hope the natives get to him before whatever mistakes your uncle made do.

~~~~

Senya walked slowly down the wide barn alley, his mind buzzing with excitement and confusion alike. He didn't feel foggy, exactly. More... floating. Questions occurred to him that he couldn't fully comprehend. How had he come here? Why? Why had it felt so important? And where was he going?

His quiet footsteps nonetheless echoed in the silence as he came to a familiar stall door. He heard a familiar wet sound coming from behind it. His tongue wet his lips without a single thought passing through him, and a part of him sang out in longing.

His mind still in a daze, he slid the wooden door open.

Mommy—gorgeous, perfect Mommy, with her long silver hair, plump ruby-red lips, and glorious, soft, massive tits—lay back in the insidious silken chair, a sly smile on her face. She was idly tweaking one nipple when the door open, and little squirts of warm holstaur milk were depositing into a glass by her side.

She looked up at him, lips curving into a surprised pout. "Oh? Is it Milking Time already?"

Senya's mind fought against the compulsion as his cock twitched in excitement. He took a step back. "I..."

"Oh, come, now, baby." The holstaur laughed. "A handsome young man such as yourself comes to my stall, a pail in hand, throbbing with need... there's no need to be shy, little one." She winked. "You know how gentle I can be."

"Okay." The word slipped out of his mouth before Senya knew what he was saying. He took two steps forward, then one step back, putting a hand to his temple. "No. No. S-stop..."

"Stop what?" She brought the glass up and took a slow sip, closing her eyes in positively erotic rapture, seeming to savor the sweet, warm, spicy beverage that made its drinker feel so tingly, so thirsty, so wonderful...

Senya's mouth was dry.

Without thinking, he licked his lips again.

"Well?" She lowered the glass, giggling as she took on the motherly cooing tone that turned Senya's legs to jelly. "What is my sweet baby here for?"

The words crept from his mouth slowly, struggling all the way. But he was lost in the sight of Mommy's beautiful breasts. "To... milk."

"That's right," she cooed. "Such a good boy. Come here, baby." She set the glass down in the grass and spread her arms wide. And she said the words that made every resistant bone in Senya's body melt into happy bliss. "Come to Mommy!"

His steps were halting and reluctant.No, no, no! But his feet paid his mind no heed. His entire body was rebelling. His cock was already hard as a rock and pointed straight-as-an-arrow towards Mommy's enormous, oozing breasts. He licked his lips once more, an act which made her giggle.

And then he was slowly kneeling before her, and she was beaming down at him, proudly. Proud of her good boy.

His heart sank. He really couldn't help himself. Had to milk her. Had to milk her. He knew it would feel so, so good to milk Mommy—to let her let him milk her.

Desperate to delay the inevitable, he slowly raised the pail and reached up towards the holstaur's mammoth breast. Hesitantly, with a reverence that disturbed him, his fingers grazed lightly over her nipple.

The response was immediate. He watched her knuckles whiten as she gripped the arms of the chair. Her face went pale, her eyes wide. Her red lips quivered. And a thin stream of creamy, sweet-smelling milk jetted out and sprayed into the bucket.

Seeing it, and smelling it, only made Senya's plight worse. He bit his lip to stop himself from breathing it in, from leaning closer, from sticking his head into the bucket like an idiot and lapping at the droplets, from surging up and locking his lips tightly onto her nipple and never, ever letting go.

Luckily, the holstaur seemed even more taken aback. Perhaps she had been sensitized after their last incident. Perhaps she was just toying with him. But she said nothing. She didn't tell him to drink, didn't mock him (or comfort him—he knew that mommy would never mock him, Mommy loved him, just as he loved her). She just clutched the grips of the chair...

... and moaned. Loudly.

Senya reached up and resumed tickling around her breast. Mommy's reaction was breathtaking. She lay back in the chair, eyes wide, whimpering and moaning.

Senya now understood why Bobbin had hoped he would be able to handle the first milking session. If it hadn't been for his already having been totally lost to her the first time, he might have been able to reduce her to this state without ever succumbing.

Of course, back then, he had not known what the milk tasted like.

The smell was driving him wild. He rocked back and forth slightly, trying not to breathe too heavily, as the milk sprayed out and into the pail.

He just had to keep milking her. Just had to keep her like this until he was done, keep her needy and desperate, keep her... on the... edge.

As that word came into his head, his breath caught in his throat. He steadied the pail between her knees. His hand was trembling, but no idea had ever sounded so hot, so sexy, so easy. He could edge himself. As long as he didn't cum, Mommy wouldn't control him. Nothing had ever sounded so wonderful in his entire life.

His hand slipped down to his knees. This was a bad idea. He was still so vulnerable, still so horny... his hands was by his groin...

Mommy managed to look down at him. Her expression was rapturous, and Senya was struck dumb for a moment by her sheer beauty. In that moment, she looked confused. Uncertain. She was about to climax. She was letting out little whines and whimpers that reminded him of the puppy sprites. Her chest kept thrusting forwards, breasts jiggling and bouncing like mad.

Senya's cock throbbed, and his heart pounded, as he recalled the way the redhead puppy sprite had lured him back to his bed one night with those same little whimpers.

Her eyelashes fluttered. She opened her mouth to speak—

And he remembered himself just in time to brush his finger along her nipple in a rapid ticklish arc. And he gave the tiniest little pinch.

Mommy screamed. Her hips thrust, her breasts swelled, and milk streamed out and into the enchanted pail as the orgasm claimed her in the throes of ecstasy. Senya's hand flew from his cock, and he frantically tickled her breasts with both hands, trying to draw the orgasm out as long as possible. Milk was streaming down her supple body, over his hands, making a horrible mess.

Mommy felt so good. He could make her feel better.

Could keep her under long enough to get away.

"Good cow," he heard himself whisper. Her moans seemed to heighten. "Th-that's a good udder sprite."

His mind cast back to the old udder sprite illustrated stories, which had always featured its holstaurs... significantly more submissive than they were in reality, suffice to say. Right now, Mommy was acting a lot like those women. Maybe he could use that.

"Just a slave to your tits, huh?" He petted her breasts as one might soothe a wild animal as the stream of cream began to ebb at last. The pail, he noticed, was just about full. "There's a good titslave. You love being milked, don't you? Gooood cow."

Mommy was still panting and whimpering. Senya knew from very personal experience that orgasms only made fey hornier, so he knew it was time to go now, while the afterglow and triggers consumed her. He took his hands away from her breasts, idly sucking them clean.

He heard a giggle.

Looking up, he saw Mommy staring at him through heavy-lidded bedroom eyes. Her smile was weak, but amused. "Tastes... good, doesn't it, baby?" she panted.

Senya paused midway through licking off his last finger.

Oh.

Damn it.

His breathing reflexively quickened, and he smelled the sweet, spicy milk stronger than ever. He hesitated, swaying slightly on his knees.

He nearly fell right into her arms.

But he staggered to his feet, avoiding her gaze—and her breasts. Had to get back. Puppies would miss him. Had to escape. Had to resist.

He stooped for the bucket. As he did so, his head passed below Mommy's shoulders.

One hand settled delicately on the top of his head. The hand was small, and delicate, and weak. He hesitated all the same.

Another settled there, after a moment.

Senya tried to force himself to move. He tried to reach up and pull the hands away, but all he succeeded in doing was gently caressing the hands, pathetically stroking them. His heart was pounding. But his mind was slowing down.

It felt so good to feel Mommy's hands on his head, gently petting him. Taking care of him. Owning him.

Slowly, his head was pushed down, ever-so-weakly, towards the bucket.

"N-no," he whimpered, but his struggles were truly wretched, half-hearted. He was as good as back in Mommy's arms. His whole body wanted to turn to putty. He'd missed her control so, so much...

And she pushed his head beneath the surface of the milk.

Senya thrashed weakly, collapsing back down to his knees in the grass. He kicked. He screamed. But all that came out were bubbles. The sweet smell and taste of the milk surrounded him, drowned him—literally.

He tried to hold his breath.

No, he didn't.

Wordless, mindless bliss filled him as he guzzled down the wonderful ambrosia. Ever since he'd drunk that glass of milk back in the cabin, he realized, this was what he'd craved.

Not the milk.

The soft, kind grip holding him to it.

He at last emerged with a choking gasp, his face dripping-wet.

The holstaur was beaming. She was radiant. She was glowing. She was Mommy. "Aren't we feeling better now?" she cooed down at him.

"M-Mommy," he mewled, trembling, his cheeks cupped in her hands.

"And what does my dear little baby boy want?" she purred, caressing his cheek.

Senya hesitated. His mind was a swirl of milky-white fog and sweetness and spice. Still, something in him struggled. What did he want?

"Mommy?" he managed.

And Mommy laughed. She hoisted him up in her arms and brought him up into her lap. Her momentary weakness was past, and she was strong again. He couldn't resist her even if he wanted to.

And as she pressed her nipple to his lips and allowed him to start suckling docilely, as she guided his cock into her warmth, he knew, of course, that he didn't.

He thrust into her, and she cooed and giggled and received him. She clutched him to her breast so tightly he could barely breathe. He was practically smothered within her vast cleavage. His lips suckled gently at her teat, his tongue lapping up every last drop of moisture from her smooth skin.

"Yes," he felt her purr, "drink deep. Good boy. For the fourth time since the full moon, you shall drink deep of me, my sweet baby. Ooh, what a good boy. Ooh, yes..."

He moaned out in gratitude. He cock slid in and out as he drank, and her pussy contracted around him wonderfully. But at that point, any touch would have felt heavenly. Any pussy would have felt as smooth as silk, as slick as butter, and as tight as the horizon to him with this much wonderful milk drugging him.

His mind was totally under, totally drowned in the holstaur's hypnotic breasts, her erotically sensuous words, her flowing milk. Her breath was his breath. Her pleasure was his pleasure. Her will was his joy.

His mouth sucked and nibbled hungrily from her teat, flooded with hot, sweet milk that washed his mind away with it. Her pussy tightened and squeezed his cock like a milkmaid's soft hand, working him with singular power and control.

"Good boy," he heard her cooing, as his cock started to throb inside her. She held him close, gently working him in and out of her—almost more for his benefit than hers. Mommy took care of him.

This could be his life, he realized. He could lie here forever, drinking from her, pleasuring her with his lips while she flooded his mind with obedient bliss, drowned his cock in her perfect pleasure.

His eyes half-opened, and he stared up at her in wonder. She smiled down at him beatifically, her eyes shining, her silver hair reflecting the colorful lights of the room. She looked, to him, like an angel.

Then she bit her lip, and her eyes closed, and he felt her pussy contract once more around her, and he came.

Instantly, the submissive fog took over completely. He was consumed within a lust to suckle for the rest of his life, perfect and obedient. He would eat and drink nothing save that which made his Mommy happy. She would hold him to her breast for eternity. She would keep him like this forever, surely, mindless and obedient, as long as he pleased her.

As his cock pounded into her, surrounded by her tight, wet, oozing walls, bathed in bliss, he wondered if this was what Heaven felt like.

She began to cum, then. Her milk streamed steadily into his receiving mouth as her pussy grew even slicker around him, allowing Senya to slide in and out swiftly and slickly. He heard her whimpering and moaning, felt her heavy breathing, her breasts heaving beneath her. All he wanted was to make it last longer.

And he did his very best, drinking and thrusting, lost in the haze. There was no Bobbin to interfere now. It felt like minutes stretched into hours there, he and Mommy trading orgasm after orgasm, lost in each other. His mind was a fuzzy, drippy, empty mess.

He no longer wanted to even think about resisting. He was Mommy's good boy. Good boys didn't resist. Good boys suckled and obeyed. Obeying felt so, so good. Felt so good to be docile, to be blank, to make Mommy happy.

And Mommy seemed to be very, very happy. Her moans had gradually grown softer and softer, as if she felt too good to even praise him anymore. Part of him missed her praise.

For a few scant seconds, his eyes half-opened, before closing once again.

And in that brief window, he realized his Mommy was no longer smiling down at him.

She was staring, open-mouthed, at something behind him. Colorful lights reflected off of her pretty eyes. She seemed to be bothered, and every now and then she tried to speak, but nothing escaped her but moans and whimpers as he drank from her.

Sensing her wishes, he switched to her other breast.

Poor Senya at this point was covered in her milk, sticky and happy. He slid deeply into her and felt his orgasm rising once more. He was a good boy. A good, good boy for Mommy. That was all that mattered. He felt her breaths getting shallower and shallower.

He managed to look up again. A smile was slowly forming on her face, though every now and then she still seemed troubled. That was when her breathing would speed up, and her expression would go blank again.

Senya was glad he was making his Mommy feel so good.

She moaned, and he thought he heard a word within it—"No"—but all was drowned out as she started to moan and gasp and whimper faster and faster, and he knew she was getting close to another orgasm. She was frowning, though. Instinctively, he reached up and started playing with her other breast, tickling around it and teasing the nipple. Milk trickled out around his hand.

She gasped when he first touched her. Her frown melted again into bliss, and this time, it stayed that way. Her expression was strange, he reflected. Vacant. Docile. Blank.

And this time, when she came, he came with her. Her legs tightened around him, locking him in place. He could do nothing but cum into her, moaning, wishing he could thank his Mommy.

But she was thanking him.

"Thank you," the holstaur chanted, "thank you, thank you, thank you!" Her voice was no longer smooth and sultry—it was rough and squeaky, high-pitched and desperate. At that moment, she sounded less like an udder sprite in control and more like a puppy sprite who was getting her pussy filled.

Pleasure was almost his every single thought now, but some reason shone through—since when was Mommy this grateful? The last two times she'd taken him, she had stayed fully in control the entire time. He was the one who should be thanking her.

Why was she now acting so desperate?

And finally, the pink, red, green and golden lights penetrated his brain.

He kept suckling, helpless to resist the call of Mommy's beautiful tits, and her delicious milk. The more he drank, the hornier he got, the dumber he became. The more addicted. But he wanted to be addicted. It felt so good to be Mommy's dumb, horny, addicted plaything. Her good boy.

But he now recognized that Mommy was in no shape to control him. She was going increasingly limp, lying back in trance, letting him pound into her and drink her to her heart's delight.

And so when he felt a slight buzzing by his ear, and heard a voice, tiny and vibrating, urging him to listen closely, he almost obeyed.

Almost.

"Mm!" he protested, lapping his tongue over the holstaur's nipple as his fingers tweaked and stroked the other. "Mmm!"