The Device

By DX

Copyright, 5/2025, all rights reserved.

 I met my old lover at a tech convention.  

 As I set up my booth, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, up the row of fellow merchants, and there she was.  It was the curves I remembered, her muscle wrapped amazon legs that went on forever, and the sweep of her battleship breasts.  At first I thought it must be someone else, but it was her, and I instantly remembered the press of her soft lips, the warmth of her body against mine, and the raging heat of her loins as she enveloped my turgid member.

 Like a zombie, I made my way up the row, dodging the press of other merchants scrambling to set up, and walked up to her.  

 Her perfume wrapped me like a warm blanket.

 “Hello, Claire.”  I said, trying to be all cool as she turned.  “It’s me…”

 “Mack!”  She squealed and launched at me.  

 “You remembered… Umm!”  She planted her wonderful lips against mine and suddenly it was twenty years ago when she was an impetuous mustang and I was a goofy kid struggling to keep up with her thunderous charge.  She held me, and I felt her all too familiar breasts against my chest.  When she parted, I gasped.  “I thought you wouldn’t recognize me.”

 “Oh, my Mack!”  She blinded me with her smile and pressed her lips against mine again.  “You haven’t changed!”  She exclaimed as we broke.  “How are you?  No wait!”  She touched my chest.  “You are wonderful!”

 I let out a laugh.  “I’ve a few more miles on the odometer.”  I took her in.  “You look wonderful.”

 She gave me a side glance.  “Do I?”  She reached down and brushed her hand subtly against my fly and felt for my stirring member.  “Oh, yes!  I’ve still got it!”  She took my hand and held it up.  “No ring?”  Her eyes flickered.  “Excellent.  Is it too early to make dinner plans?”

 Desperate to take some control back I laughed nervously.  “So what have you got going here?”

 She glanced dismissively at her booth.  “We’re selling As Seen On TV crap.”  She sneered, glancing at the items being put on display.  She then looked up at the man behind the table.  “Oh, Mack,”  She said remembering.  “This is my boyfriend.”

 There I was, one arm draped around her waist, her arm around mine, and the boyfriend right there.

 I shouldn’t have been surprised.  Claire was intelligent, charming, and explosive in bed.  Her beauty was disarming and cutting.  Her smile could flay a man’s soul.  Of course she would have a boyfriend.  

 Claire never slept alone.

 Trying to act as if I wasn’t just making out with his girlfriend, I held out my hand.  “Hey, I’m Mack.”

 In the din of the convention all, I could barely hear his response.  “I’m George.”  He grinned at me.

 I saw his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

 He clasped his hand in mine and I gave it a congratulatory shake, a bit of; man to man, you got a hell of a woman and I envy the fuck you are about to receive, but his grip was a little lackluster, and I might have over done it.

 He was clean shaven, his hair a little thin, and a bit of baby fat to his cheeks.  He wasn’t a bad looking guy.  He was young, younger than me by a decade at least.  Claire and I were the same age, so I guessed that his dry toast aura magically changed to a hopped up street racer full of youthful exuberance in bed.  Let’s face it, if he didn’t, Claire would chew him up and spit him out.  Claire wasn’t one to waste time and was unapologetic.  If you didn’t measure up, she moved on.  Claire was a radiant lighthouse of seething sexuality, guiding many to her rocky shores, and there was always a line to take your place.  

 I decided not to make things any more awkward.  “Well, I gotta go finish setting up before the crowd comes in.”  I glanced at Claire.  “I’ll see you… ulp!”

 She planted her lips on mine, and her tongue flashed in.  I gently pushed her back, cognizant of her boyfriend standing right there, and broke the kiss.

 I went back to my table, my lips still warm, and yes, my cock still stirring.  When you were with Claire, you were with Claire.  When you were not with Claire, she was a free, sexual, and very wild spirit.  She was a goddess, with long curly hair, suave skin, and polar icecap eyes.  

 It was a little weird for her to be that open in front of her current boyfriend, and I couldn’t help but fantasize they were on the way out and she was thinking of rekindling an old flame, but it was just that: Fantasy.  Claire didn’t need a middle aged couch dweller like me anymore.  She needed a stallion.

 I grinned, and decided to live vicariously through George.

 “Go get ‘em, kid.”  I whispered my encouragement.

 But as the convention began, and the crowd shuffled in, I couldn’t help but peer up the row and watch Claire work her magic.

 She stood in front of her table like a temple of beauty, beguiling customers in.  She didn’t have to sell anything.  She left her aura to do that.  She only had to smile, admire someone’s watch, or tie, and they would linger, and then buy something as an excuse to stay a little longer.

 At my table, I handed out some pamphlets, explained the tech, and got some positive nods, which was to be expected.  My goal was to get my name out there and hopefully drum up some future business.

 As I talked to one potential customer, I noticed Claire walk over and pick up my brochure and carefully began to read it.  This caused other potentials to slow as they passed, step back, and pick up a brochure.

 Then she began her magic.

 It took her less than a minute to grasp the tech, analyze the market and customer base, learn the lingo, and line them up.

 I was starting a new side gig.  In the city were hundreds of manufacturers operating machines built during the industrial revolution that currently ran held together by bent paperclips and a prayer.  I had dumped all my savings into a fabricator that when programed properly, could take a hunk of metal, steel, iron, aluminum, and carve it into whatever you needed; meaning I could produce replacement parts for hundred plus year old machines.

 I had spent all day with casual glances and handed out four pamphlets.  Claire had them signing up and placing orders in minutes.

 By the end of the day I had to stop taking sales as I was now on six month back order.  

 I blinked, stunned.  “I owe you dinner!”

 She smiled devilishly.  “George is securing our booth,”  She looked at my table.  “and you don’t have any actual merchandise,”  She looked up at me, her blue eyes peering through her long lashes.   “Walk me up to my hotel room and let me change.”

 I looked abashed.  “Oh, I think I’m going to need adult supervision.”

 “Why?”  She leaned slightly and showed off her cavernous cleavage.  “We’re both adults.”

 I glanced nervously up the row where George was.

 She leaned close.  “He can get his own adult.  I already told him I was going to fuck you.”

 I blushed.  “I should get condoms.”  I murmured in a half joke.

 Claire almost laughed.  “I know you, Mac.”

 We made out in the elevator.

 She took my hand, slipped it under her skirt, and plunged my fingers up into fiery snatch as she sucked deep on my tongue.  The doors opened for another floor and we unhitched and stood there while someone boarded.  They took one look at us standing against the back of the elevator, and decided to take another car.

 We went at it when the doors closed again.

 On her floor, we ran to her room giggling like teenagers.  Once inside, we stripped off our clothes before the door closed.

 Claire grabbed me, pushed me down in to the chair and quickly mounted me.  She slid her glistening snatch against my throbbing manhood before sliding me deep within.  She shuttered, her nails digging in, and I felt her warm tunnel spasm.

 “Don’t move.”  She commanded, and rocked her hips ever so slightly.  She leaned forward with her pendulous melons and pressed her nipple into my mouth.

 I sucked like a starving man and she came hard as her powerful body clenched tightly against me.  She screamed like a thunderstorm.

 “Oh, fuck!”  She panted, shivering.  “That was… fuck I missed you.”  Shuddering, she climbed off me.  “Give me a moment, let me finish you.”

 I opened my mouth to speak, but she shushed me with a kiss.  

 “You be quiet now.”  She whispered.  “Oh, I needed that.”  She shifted to her knees and held my cock.  “Just as I need this.”

 I felt her lips ring around me as her talented tongue went to work.  She slowly nodded her head, pushing just to the point of gagging, and I clutched the arms of the chair as I felt my wave build.

 Her lips, her hot tongue curling like a lizard, her soft cheeks like a cave to the center of the Earth, Claire touched the all the points using the map she had made of my dick so long ago.

 I grunted like a raged bear as I came.

 I laid back in the chair, amazed and stunned.

 Claire got up, a little shaky, and glanced at me with a dubious look, her cheeks a little bulging.  She gave me a casual side glance, then slipped over to the door of her connected suite and opened it.

 Sitting on the edge of the bed was George.

 She walked up to him, grabbed his face, and pinched his jaw until it opened, then threw her mouth over his.  When he gagged from the sudden, salty brine she spat into his mouth, she held onto him.  “Don’t you dare spit it out.  And don’t you swallow it!”  She barked.  “Hold it on your tongue.  I want you to taste a real man’s cum!  You hold it there until I come back.”

 She came back into the room, and closed the door behind her.

 She was smirking.

 I didn’t know what had just happened, but I was hard as a rock.



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The Farm

By DX

Copyrighted, 3/2025, all rights reserved.

 “Emma is demonstrating our new, Cowgirl line!”  

 Candice called out like a circus ringmaster and reeled in the meandering crowd.  “Take a look, folks!  Emma is happiest when she has a crowd to watch her get milked!”

 Emma smiled gently, and placed her teats, the size of her thumbs, into milking nozzles.  As the nozzles began to suck, Emma felt the thrilling, erotic sensation flow though her.  She masked her emotions with sheer will, and only smiled pleasantly at her audience.  She gave her head a shake to get her wild, red hair out of her face, as she cast her emerald eyes to the approaching gaggle of people.  She shrugged her shoulders back to help her back with the strain of her heavy, milk laden teats. 

 “First her nose ring,”  Candice went on.  “which not only insures obedience, just give a little tug and she'll follow you anywhere, but also insures her unobstructed breathing; which comes in handy when she uses that nanite enhanced mouth and tongue to keep the farm hands happy.  An O-chip at the back of her tongue keeps her coming for more!”

 Emma longed for a farm hand, or suitable cock, and her eyes searched the growing crowd for one.  As her teats were being suckled, her hormones raged, and only the smooth feel of a delicate skin against the back of her tongue could bring her the wild pleasure she needed to orgasm.  It was maddening!  

 She could only smile as the audience stepped closer for a good look.  There were no farm hands, or suitable cocks.

 “The collar around her neck insures her only sounds are gentle mooing.”  Candace explained.  “For her primary feature, her breast shield, nanites have surgically separated her nipples into four, then stimulated the breast tissue growth giving her four breasts.  The naturally occurring sugars in her produced milk can be adjusted to give each breast a different flavor: Regular, chocolate, strawberry and banana. These can be customized to your cow.  Other options include the above, plus: whole, 2%, heavy cream, and Beer.”  Candace brandished a sloshing mug of foaming beer and took a long pull.  “Mmmm!  You won't believe it until you try it!”  She exclaimed with her beer mustache. 

 Emma smiled, and nodded to the crowd, while she clenched her teeth and prayed that once, just this once, the milking machine would let her come, and not insistently tease her.

 “Of course, Emma's package is finished off with a Chasti-Permalock Vaginal Shield, so none of her pent up energies are wasted!”

 Emma couldn’t help but wonder if that were true; that an orgasm wasted a hucow’s energy.  It sounded silly, implausible, but they showed her the science, the research.  Every thing indicated that a chaste cow produced a higher yield and better quality milk.

 “Its our most productive Chasti product to date!”  Candace wrapped up her presentation.  “Order yours now and become the Cowgirl of your dreams!”

 The machine shut off and Emma pulled her teats from the nozzles.  She pulled up her bra and shifted it in place.  It was tight, and she looked lovingly down at her nanite enhanced breasts.

 They were getting bigger.  Much, much bigger.  With her arms outstretched, she could barely reach her hands around to touch her finger tips together.  Soon, she wouldn’t be able to do that.  Soon, she would be unable to reach her own teats and would need a farmhand to do it.

 Preferably a farmhand with a suitable cock.

 Assuming there was a farmhand with a suitable cock left in the world.  With a population of 1,331 to 1, female/male ratio, finding a male, with a suitable cock, (suitable; meaning still worked and wasn’t in permalock chastity) was like finding a unicorn. 

 Still smiling, Emma meandered into the crowd and took pictures with the potential customers, while Candace signed people up for orders.  

 Home hucow milk production was all the rage.

 When they announced the fair was closing for the day, Emma packed up as Candace took a couple final orders.  With a huge smile on her face, Candace took Emma’s leash and led her to their trailer.

 “We have exceeded quota, kid!”  Candace exclaimed stepping inside.  She smiled brightly as Emma closed the door behind her.  “And that is thanks to you!”

 Emma mooed.  Then mooed again, looking at Candace’s data-pad.

 Her face flashed with confusion.  “Oh, you want to see the numbers?”

 Emma shook her head.  She mooed, and looked at the pad.

 “Oh, you want to talk?”

 Emma nodded.

 Candace laughed.  “Well, why didn’t you saw so?”  She accessed the bio-lock on the pad and handed it to her.

 Emma typed.  “It time.”  The pad spoke her text to voice with a British accent.  “Tape, please.”

 Candace’s face drained.  “Are you sure?”

 Emma nodded as she typed.  “Tape.  You measure.”

 Candace hissed angrily and took the data-pad from Emma.  She held it up and tapped the screen, first of Emma’s front, then Emma’s profile.  Her face lost all emotion as she looked at the results.  “Yeah, you’re right.  You’ve made quota too, in a way.  Your contract was until you grew to a pre-determined volume size, and you have met that size.  Hucow stage 2.”  She looked up determinedly.  “Listen, we’re a good team here.  I can talk to the guys upstairs and get an extension…” 

 Emma shook her head, and looked at the data-pad.  Reluctantly, Candace handed it to her.  “It’s happening.”  Emma typed.  “I can feel it.  I can feel my mind slow, become hucow.  I would like to go to the farm now.”

 Candace wrestled with her thoughts.  “You have that right, but would you be happy as a hucow?  I mean, a real hucow?”

 Emma brightened.  “Yes!  It all I want.  It will soon happen and I am excited.”  She looked at her partner affectionately.  “Time now.  I feel the nanites are in my arms.  They will soon be gone.  Hucows don’t need arms.  Soon, real hucow.  Soon happy.”

 Candace conceded.  “Yeah, well you deserved it.  You’ve been an excellent partner.”  She sat on the couch and patted the cushion beside her.  When Emma sat, Candace took the data-pad and tapped on its screen.  “Well, let’s see where you are going.”  She brought up the address.  “Blah, kinda dark.  One of those industrial places.”

 Emma shrugged.

 Candace sighed sadly.  “Emma, you’ve become more than my co-worker.  You’ve become my friend.  I just want you to be happy.”

 Emma hugged her, as Candace’s face swept with tears.  

 Candace wiped her face with the back of her hand.  “Right!  Let’s do this properly.”  She announced, determinedly.  “I’ll contact the factory and…”  Her eyes focused on the web page’s publicity photos.  “Oh, oh.”  Candace murmured, pointing to the screen.  “Look at that set up!  Their milking machines only handle hucows with two teats.  Not four.”  Her fingers flashed on the pad.  “I’ll send them a text and ask if they can handle you.”

 Long seconds passed before a response came.

 Candace looked at Emma, her face slack.  “I’m sorry, Emma.  Our tech is so new…”  She brightened.  “I’ll search on line.  There has to be someone…  someone not so dismal.”  Her fingers flashed, and her head knocked back as she looked at a response.  “Novelty cow?”  Her fingers pounded against the board.  “You are not a novelty cow!  Argh!  They’re looking at only your milk production and not counting your other flavors.”  She tried accessing a real-person.  Failing that, she paused to think.  She looked back at Emma.  “We’ll get this sorted.”  She said reassuringly.

 “Moo.”  Emma said, smiling.

 As Candace tapped on the screen, a response popped up.  ‘Did you try Farmer Brown?’

 “Will try, thanks.”  Candace messaged back, and brought up Farmer Brown’s info.  There was a picture of a man with a graying beard spread across his chest like a bib.

 Emma peered in close, and Candace shooed her back.  “Settle down, you.  It’s just a logo.  I seriously doubt it’s a man running the farm.”

 “Moo.”  Emma said, excitedly.

 “The chances of him having a working penis is a billion to one, literally.”  Candace frowned as she fanned through the farm’s images.

 Emma and Candace watched a video tour.  Farmer Brown smiled and waved, his face a little embarrassed.  The narrator was a woman, who talked about the advantages of organic farming and free-ranged hucows.  She panned the camera and showed hucows walking through a shady glenn.  Their udders were magnificent!  Giant breasts tens of thousands of CC’s in size.  As the narrator made her way through the field, the hucows slowly approached her, mooing happily for attention.  Within moments, the narrator was holding the camera above her head and panned down, showing a beautiful, raven haired woman being surrounded by tit flesh and giggling hucows.  “Come to Farmer Brown’s farm!”

 The video ended.

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Justice

By DX

Copyright, 2/27/2025, all rights reserved.

 The prosecutor had given us a sweetheart deal.  My client, born Amelia Carpenter, Fugsbitch, as she preferred to be called, was an accessory to a string of homicides, but I had argued in preliminary that she was just a victim, forced through the brutal tactics of her gang to be complicit with their rampage of terror.

 No one believed that.

 But prosecution had eighteen other defendants and not enough resources to handle it all.  Any other day, Fugsbitch would not see the light of day for at least thirty years, but the deal they gave us was zero jail time, ten years supervised probation, and mandatory anger therapy.  To sweeten the deal, the State would pay for the laser removal of Fugsbitch’s tattoo, “Cum Dump”, from her face.

 All she had to do, was when the judge asked: “Do you agree to the terms and conditions of your release?” she reply, “Yes, your honor.”

 I coached her on it.  “Just say those words, and I’ll drive you home.”  I told her.  “No jail time, no tracking bracelet.”

 She gave a non-comital tilt of her head.

 “All rise!”  The bailiff called and the judge swept in.  

 Words were spoken, papers were shuffled, someone cleared their throat, and the deal was read into the record.

 We stood, and I held my breath.

 When the judge asked if she agreed to the conditions of release, Amelia “Fugsbitch” Carpenter went off script.

 “You mother fucking white piece of shit.  Fuck you and your fucking robe, I’mma gonna go to your house and take your daughter to my man so he can impregnate her with his man seed, then I will cut off her hands and feet and lead her around like a bitch dog, pooping out babies for my crew, and living off the cream she can suck from my pussy, your honor.”

 The silence in the court was horrifying.

 Judge Victor James Junior blanched, but didn’t change his expression.  “The court will accept the defendant’s comments as her acceptance to the pre-stated conditions of release.  Court adjourned.”

 The gavel sounded like a gunshot.

 “What just happened?”  Fugsbitch asked, looking around confusedly.  “Ain’t I goin’ to jail to be with my man?”

 “One, that’s not how jail works,”  I said quickly, grabbing up my papers and stuffing them into my case.  “and two, we’re leaving.  I’m taking you to your mother’s house.”

 “Fuck you, you ain’t.”  She protested.  “I wanna see my man.  Bitch, don’t you get it!  I will be ten times more powerful with my crew in jail!  I will own that mother fucker!  Take me to my man!”

 “Amelia, he’s in jail without the possibility of parole.”  I took her arm.  “I don’t believe what just happened, but they’re going to let you walk out of here, so we’re going.  Once I drop you off at your mother’s, you can do whatever the fuck you please.  Just meet with your probation officer on Tuesday.”

 “No I ain’t.”  She folded her arms across her chest.

 “Then do as you please!”  I barked.  “I’m in no obligation to do you any favors.  I’ve put up with your shit for months and I’m done with it.  I’m leaving.”  I turned and walked towards the parking lot.

 She ran to catch up.  “Wait!”

 I didn’t wait.  I wanted to be as far away from court as possible.  Judge James Senior would have had Amelia in contempt so fast it would have made her head spin.  Judge James Junior had a different way of doing things and I didn’t want to press my luck, nor remind him what I looked like.  My client humiliated him in his court room and I didn’t need him associating me with a memory that would not soon be forgotten.  A good lawyer knows the law, and great lawyer knows the judge, and Fugsbitch just made a new enemy.

 I did ask her if she wanted to change out of her prison jumpsuit and she declined, thinking them a badge of honor.

 I my car, Fugsbitch cranked my radio.  I turned it off.  She cranked it again.

 As I switched it off, a car slammed into us from behind, and with squealing tires and busting glass, pushed us forward into a van.

 The airbags exploded in our faces.

 Stunned, smoke everywhere, I remember something hit my car door and it wretched open with a hollow crumple of metal.  I turned to respond to the emergency service, ready to quip about how fast they had arrived, but I looked up into a face of terror.

 Worse, he had a knife.

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