In Your Dreams (furry, non-futa *yet*, huge tits, impregnation, demon)

That word floated through Emily’s head as the rooster crow pulled her from her slumber. Bleary eyes blinked into the early morning light, the sheets rustling as she began to move. “Again with that dream…” It’d been bothering her on and off for some time now. Since before spring had started, if she remembered correctly. Still, no matter how often it happened or how hard she tried, what the dream was actually about was gone within seconds of waking. It was frustrating to say the least, if only because apparently she really liked what happened. Her room stunk of ripe mare, powerful legs slipping through the slime she’d leaked over the night yet again as she got to her hooves. It was embarrassing for a woman her age to be going through this, but she wasn’t exactly normal. Maybe this was just another thing to curse her younger self for that hadn’t appeared until now.

One such thing she definitely knew was her stupid preteen self’s fault was currently complaining at her. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going…” The floor receded rapidly, the towering Clydesdale standing up and wandering halfheartedly towards her private milking station. Fingers popped her nightshirt buttons open one by one, soft nickers and grunts following as the pressure in her chest dropped slightly. Every morning was the same. Get up, drain the girls. By the time she reached the cabinet that disguised the station she was slipping her shirt off, the heavily padded bra that kept her from leaking like a sieve pulling away from her tits with a wet *slorp*. The few times she’d tried clamps it’d ended up with busted shirts waking her up halfway through the night, so she had to just deal with the mess or sleep with the pumps on. As she pressed first one, then the other cup to her already leaking teats, gentle suction attaching them, she bit her lip softly. If nothing else it felt really good every time.

As the pump whirred to life she let out a pleasured whinny, the large female’s hoof stamping the floor as white cream filled the cups before being slurped away to the tank. Her silky tail whipped back and forth lazily as she sat down, each tug on her gushing breasts making her shiver and moan more lewdly than she wanted to admit. As annoying as it was to have to drop everything and do this three, four, maybe five times a day there was no saying she didn’t love it once it started. Already drenched from her strange forgotten erotic dreams, her panties squished against the padded stool as her hand moved on its own to slip along her covered lips. It was all she could do to stop herself from braying out like some feral from the sensations assailing her. Every time she told herself she’d get used to it eventually, but each time it felt just as good as or better than the last. Milking was a necessity and a business, the pleasure was just a perk. That was the lie she told herself so she could keep her pride.

The busty mare’s twin milk tanks always took some time to drain, her tits far above those of her own kind and easily a match for a proper milking cowgirl. Standing tall enough that most species only reached her chest meant what qualified as ‘huge’ took a lot more than the typically sized sentient. Even drained dry there was no question ‘huge’ was an understatement when it came to her chest. When you have to order custom cup sizes and the manufacturers know your name, it makes pretending anything else difficult. That this started happening before she’d left high school was something she tried to forget.

As the cups detached, the storage tank full, Emily shuddered in her release. It hadn’t always been like this. Normally she’d only get this worked up during her heats. The last few days she just couldn’t seem to stop herself from indulging despite that part of her cycle not being due for weeks. Hot water washed away the stickiness, the shower letting her maintain some dignity before her employees and a bit of time to settle her thoughts. Her farm hands would be out and about at this time, taking care of their daily chores before breakfast. She hoped so, at least. Many of them weren’t exactly the most dependable types.

As she dried off and brushed herself out, trying to ignore the extra sensitivity she felt in her chest as she dressed, Emily took a moment to glance out the window. The

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