Page 44 of Milk & Malice: Vadik

I didn’t stop. Kept working her clit, steady and brutal, until her moans broke into ragged gasps. Her face twisted. Eyes fluttered. Her body bucked, legs jerking in wild spasms as she came—her clit twitching under my thumb while her ass milked my cock.

I lost control and slammed into her, each thrust brutal and fast. Her clenching asshole tried to suck me deeper with every stroke. With a roar, I came—hot, thick spurts flooding her guts.

Only then did I slow.

I leaned down, breath hot in her ear.“See how easy it is? You don’t even need to be fucked properly to come. You’re nothing but a leaking fucktoy.”

She sobbed. Helpless. Shivering.

Then I pulled out—slow, aching—and bent low. I curled my tongue around her nipple and sucked hard. Milk sprayed onto my tongue as her body jolted beneath me.

She was too raw to fight. Too ruined to resist.

I pushed back into her ass and stayed there while I drained her udders.

While I sucked on the creamy goodness and her asshole twitched around me, I had an excellent idea.

She would accept her new existence.

I’d give her no choice.

Chapter 19

Lena

I wandered around the room, staring at the floor and my hooves as I paced. My tail brushed from one thigh to the other. I knew what I looked like. The horns weren’t as large as I’d imagined. The longer I stared, the more beautiful they became. Polished. Cream, with curved tips. They made me feel like a majestic beast from the nature programmes I once loved.

My limbs looked slender from the stumps down to the polished metal until they broadened to the black hooves. The marks from the surgery—where he’d fitted my tail—were scarred but small. He’d matched the colour to my hair. A light sand and copper blend.

But it was the weight of my udders that pulled me out of every fantasy.

They swayed when I moved. Heavy. Obscene. So large now they brushed the top of my thighs when I walked. I felt the slosh of milk inside them with every step. Felt the soreness if I let them go too long without being drained.

I paced again. Hooves clipping the floor.

The heat of my own body. The ache of engorgement.

Nothing changed.

Above my bed, he’d placed mirror panels. Where the headboard should be, he’d layered the wall in the same reflectiveglass. The milking station was no different. Every angle. Every glance. I saw myself.

Not human.

Not cow.

Just… something in between.

After three days, I began to admire myself—and immediately threw up.

I cried. Sobbed. Wailed.

From despair to fury, then back again.

The doctor.

Stumpy.

Sex.