The Cow's Afternoon Quota
"Hee-hee-hum♩"
A girl hummed a rather cheerful tune, whistling along to the rhythm as she tapped her way down the stairs. It was a bright, lively melody, yet the further she descended, the less light there was, and the deeper the darkness grew. Following the gray stone steps, she arrived at a passage made of the same gray stone walls. At the end of it stood a thick, black iron door, tight enough that even an ant would struggle to slip through.
Creak.
Beyond the iron door, the room looked like a strange hybrid between a cozy bedroom and a dungeon. It was well-furnished with clean bedding, blankets, and pillows, and the heating was so efficient that, rather than a chill, one could feel a lingering warmth. It seemed like a place designed to keep an important hostage or prisoner—someone who mustn't be harmed—in confinement. However, the hooks and chains hanging from the ceiling betrayed the room's original purpose.
"Did you rest well, Hansel? I brought a new bucket, so let's do it again."
The girl who had descended the stairs carrying a large milk bucket was none other than Gretel.
"J-just... let me rest a little longer..."
"You've rested plenty. It's time to go again."
In the center of that clean room, on the hard, rough stone floor—devoid of any carpet—was a single cow. Its name was Hansel. He was on all fours, his wrists and ankles secured to shackles bolted to the floor. Even as he desperately begged to be allowed more rest in that prone position, Gretel, having entered the room, rejected his plea with a single, sweet-voiced word.
A collar with a bell around his neck, black-and-white cow-patterned gloves reaching from his hands to his elbows, and stockings of the same pattern covering his feet up to his knees. A headband with cow horns. This was the attire Hansel was currently wearing. Normally, he would have been wearing a small pair of panties underneath, but they had been removed for the milking process.
Humming a tune, Gretel picked up a cylindrical device with a thin, long hose attached to the end and brought it to her lips. Slowly, saliva from her tongue dripped into the cylinder. After letting enough pool at the bottom, she approached Hansel, knelt, and stroked his buttocks.
"Hee-hee..."
"Hiiik!"
A shiver ran down Hansel's spine, starting from the nape of his neck and surging all the way to his rear, the electric sensation conducting right into Gretel's hand. "Are you trembling like this just thinking about me? You're so cute♥"
Gretel's hand, which had been stroking his buttocks, moved slowly downward to fondle his testicles and penis. If this basement were cold, his scrotum would have shriveled up with its wrinkles, but thanks to the perpetually warm and comfortable temperature of the room, they hung low, exuding the scent of well-aged semen. How could the scent, even smelled indirectly through his testicles, be so fragrant? The second reason was the abundance of healthy, high-quality food she fed him—clean water, the sweetest fruits, and well-grilled, juicy meats. But the primary reason was undoubtedly that Gretel and Hansel truly cherished and loved each other.
Look. As proof, despite his penis having been limp and drained of energy just moments ago, it had instantly become rock-hard, leaking juices onto Gretel's hand as she touched it. The bright red glans, having slipped past the foreskin, was caught between her fingers, dripping transparent pre-cum. As it expanded, Gretel moved her hand to free the glans from the pressure of her fingers.
Throb.
Blood rushed into the area behind the glans that had been suppressed by her fingers, and in an instant, his penis became taut and engorged. It was swollen to the very limit. This was the first step of the work to come. One could use tools to force an erection to its limit, and that would be far more efficient. But that would be dry and devoid of love and affection, which was not the way of Gretel, who always poured her love into Hansel.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
Three kisses. The first on Hansel's buttocks, the second on the penis she held, and the third on the milking device.
It was a cylindrical device with an opaque exterior. On the bottom, facing the hole where the penis would enter, a long hose thinner than a finger was attached, and the end of that hose was inserted into the spout of the iron milk bucket Gretel had brought.
"Now, let's begin."
Gretel inserted the milking device onto Hansel's penis.
"Please, be gentle... H-hkkk!"
Whirrrrrrr.
Before Hansel could even finish his sentence, the milking machine began to operate. As Gretel pressed the button on the remote, the device, accompanied by a buzzing sound, began its ruthless work of squeezing out his semen.
Inside the machine, invisible from the outside, a rotational motion was applied with the penis as its axis. The interior was lined with dense, small rubber protrusions, and pre-filled with lubricant. It rubbed and kneaded the penis thoroughly without ever causing a scratch. From the tip of the curved glans down to the shaft, which straightened toward the base, it caressed every inch. Even if hundreds of servants and maids serving a foul-tempered noblewoman were to clean every corner of a room until not a speck of dust remained, they could not match the level of thoroughness with which this device caressed every part of his penis.
Furthermore, it didn't just rotate; the rubber-lined walls moved forward and backward, contracting and expanding, constantly changing the stimulation pattern so that he would never grow accustomed to it. Anything becomes boring if it continues indefinitely, but this device randomly altered its internal rotation patterns and the intensity of the stimulation, ensuring that Hansel's penis would not become desensitized to the monotony.
Zzzzzzzzzing.
"Hmm, shall I push it in a little deeper?"
Gretel pushed the device, which had been halfway onto Hansel's penis, until it was just a hair's breadth away from touching his testicles.
"Ughhhhh!!!!"
Even without the machine running, the sensation of the protrusions scraping against his penis while pushing or pulling was so intense it felt like he might lose his mind—and now, she was pushing it in mercilessly while it was active. The strength in his waist, which he had been using to hold himself up, gave way completely. Hansel began to thrash his hips back and forth on his own, ejaculating.
Splurt! Spluuuurt! B-b-b-b-b-burst!
Semen was sucked up through the hose connected to the device. The milking machine gripping his penis was black-gray, making it impossible to see inside from the side, but the thin hose connected to the bottom was transparent, revealing everything within. The colorless, odorless transparency was stained with the white paint flowing from Hansel's penis. The warm, sticky white of lust flowed through the hose.
It passed the downward curve, climbed through the milk bucket, and then plunged back into the depths of the container.
Drip, drip, drip.
The fresh semen Hansel had ejaculated for the first time this afternoon poured into the bucket. Zzzzzzzing!
But he was still far from finished. To meet his afternoon quota, Hansel had to ejaculate many more times. So, Gretel increased the intensity of the milking. From 'Normal' to 'High'.
"Haaaaaaaah!!!!"
The pathetic sounds Hansel made with his mouth grew louder, and the movement of his hips, which he thrashed on his own, became as violent as a sea in a typhoon. His testicles dangled, and the bell jingled. Jingle♩ Jingle♩ Jingle♩♩ Unlike his groans, which left it unclear whether he was feeling pleasure or if his reason, clouded by excessive ecstasy, was crying out in pain, the sound of the bell on his collar was truly cheerful.
Unlike Hansel, who trembled, mouth agape, drooling and leaking snot and tears, Gretel looked down at the sight with eyes that suggested she found it too adorable to bear. "Hee, the way Hansel looks right now... it's so cute. I want to keep you all to myself forever."
If one were to examine Gretel's eyes closely at this moment, there would undoubtedly be small pink heart patterns engraved in her pupils. Even while being milked of his semen and treated like livestock, Hansel seemed satisfied with his lot, making no attempt to escape or resist, instead emitting sounds beneath those of a beast. Just like Gretel's twisted love, Hansel expressed his own in this twisted way—by becoming a head of livestock being milked of his semen.
Splurt! Spluuuurt!! Zzzzzzing!
Once again, the milk bucket filled with semen. Whirrrrrrr! B-b-b-b-burst! Spluuuurt! Zzzzzzing! Once again. Spluuuurt! Again.
How many times had he ejaculated like that? Before he knew it, the bucket was three-quarters full of Hansel's semen. Indeed, when you squeeze with love, you can extract more, higher-quality semen. It had only been afternoon, and the sun hadn't even set halfway, yet she had already extracted this much. Gretel was satisfied with the incredible volume of his ejaculation, but a problem arose. The milking machine was still running, but no more semen was coming out of Hansel's penis. Perhaps his testicles were completely empty; his penis continued to twitch as if it were still ejaculating, but no semen emerged. She had sucked up every last drop remaining in the device and the hose, and now, not a single drop would come out. Even after she switched the intensity to 'Special', nothing came out.
Had he run out of semen in his testicles? "Hmm, I'll have to change methods. If we fill this up, you can rest for today, Hansel. So, let's do our best!"
"N-no more... please, let me rest..."
Hansel, sprawled on the floor with his tongue lolling out like a dog exhausted by the summer heat, begged to be allowed to rest.
"Don't worry! Those who believe in themselves and act can achieve results far beyond their capacity! I believe in your potential. So, let's do a little more! You can do it, Hansel! I'll do it with you, so let's give it our all!"
It was ironic that Gretel, who said such things, was doing nothing but cheering him on.
"Ugh... okay..."
Even after begging to be allowed to rest, Hansel, hearing Gretel's humanistic anthem that bordered on sophistry, forced himself to muster the energy to try again.
Thump, thump, thump!
"Entering."
A dry, emotionless voice. An uninvited guest, whom he hadn't particularly wished to see, arrived and opened the iron door.