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Onabreeder	By : FrigOfFury Category: +A through F > Breeding Season Views: 22702 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: BreedingSeason belongs to the BS team, not me, and I'm not making any money off this. Any resemblance to real people is accidental, and this is 100% original fiction.

Chapter List
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Being mounted again served as my morning wakeup call, and this time I found it more enjoyable than I had the previous night, perhaps because I knew more of what to expect and didn't have to fear being injured. I even savored the strange feel of building tightness in my belly that had nothing to do with the bulge of beast-seed. What I didn't expect was that as soon as the deed was done he would take us down the stairs again, out the door into the dawn and around the side of the house to the barn. The jostling kept me on the edge, eyes clenched tight against the sensation as well as the light. The barn door was wide open and a variety of strange creatures watched a large, incredibly busty woman in overalls portioning out food for the animals.
My eyes widened in horror at being caught skewered on an animal's rod, but her surprise at seeing me was far milder, and tinged with respect.
“Well, ye ain't hardly arrived and you've brought the feral to heel. Or maybe he brought you!” she laughed kindly. “You must be Riannon.”
“Pardon?”
“You're the eldest Riannon now, aren't ye? Come to take the farm in hand?”
“I suppose I am. Riannon was my mother's family name, at any rate.” I felt very strange trying to converse like a civilized person while the wolf with whom I was technically still fornicating ate from a bowl and growled at any other beast that might approach.
“I'm sorry, I ain't even introduced meself. I'm Roxanne Fulsoma, though everyone calls me Roxie. I run the onastock shop in Kvari. I think we actually met when we were girls, though you were just a little thing about my sister's age.” She bent down and placed something metallic on the ground underneath me. “Here we go. I've got the harvest pail in place to catch all that,” she told me somewhat opaquely. “I'm glad yer finally here to take over. Loved yer dear parents, a course. Very respected amongst us breeders, and I'm sure I'm honored to look after things but got my own business to look after, is all. Tricky time to be an Artannian breeder. Are you going to slide off, or what?”
“Pardon?”
“You going to slide off that diwarg stick, or are you waiting for something special?”
“I'm afraid I'm not not sure precisely what you wish me to do,” I said, feeling extra humiliated as she walked around so she could view me from behind.
“Is this your first feral?” she asked.
“It is,” I said, sure of my answer even if I wasn't sure what she was asking.
“Oh, well, plant your feet on his stifles and push. You'll pop off a bit quick, so have your hands on the ground before you do it, then drop to your knees to finish emptying.”
I followed her directions as best I understood them and found that I could release myself after all, and that when I did, semen would gout from my womb like a tea from a spout, splattering loudly into the pail. When the pressure decreased, it stopped landing in the pail and ran down one leg.
“Whoops, that's thick stuff. Here.” Roxie used the edge of the pail to scrape much of the excess off my leg into the pail, then let out an impressed whistle. “Not bad! This fellow is quite a find. Definitely one you'll want to put out to stud, I think. Or see if you can get him mated up with the roan ket in the second stall there, since he seems like a gentle sort. Bonded pairs are always in demand, and I heard the marchioness herself was looking for one.”
“Who?” I asked, trying to sound normal while she collected more gobs of cum as they dribbled out of me. I was extra ashamed to find myself aroused by the view of her impressive cleavage. Looking around the room at the largely-humanoid kettin, every one of whom had was at least as tall and busty as I was myself, I felt small and a little bit unwomanly for the first time in many years.
“Lady Apowyl. Apowyl's the Pilvish name for all of Far Grenning and Westfen, plus Kvari and the pass. Now that Far Grenning belongs to Pilvia, they say the marquis leaves the marchioness in charge of it all, though she mostly leaves everyone be. A bit high-handed sometimes, but the toffs always are, what? Anyway, ain't likely you'll see her; she ain't one to visit villages. She been here since I was born and I ain't seen her once with my own eyes. Do business through her brother atimes, who's more approachable, but mostly she sends slaves around.”
“Slaves?” I asked, unsettled.
“The ones with the manacles but not collars,” Roxie explained unhelpfully, “Demands only the best, n' all that. I know you got one o' them Artannian licenses so a course you'll be sendin' most of your product down the river, but if you ever end up with a top notch onabeast, that's the door to knock on. If you can get through the gate, ha! Or come down to my shop and I'll see what I can do. But I sure do talk, don't I? Let's get to harvest!”
“Shouldn't I get clothed?” I asked.
“I already did the mucking and feeding,” she said, as if saying 'no need'. Clearly I was the only one embarrassed by my nakedness. Roxie seemed to take no notice, and of course the kettin stared openly, as did a number of wolf-like creatures both like and unlike the giant who leaned against me now that he was finished drinking from the trough. While 'my' wolf walked on all fours like an ordinary wolf, they stood largely upright, hand-like paws resting on the edges of their stall area. They did not look as nearly human as the kettin did, but I felt like their intent gazes held quite a bit of intelligence.
At that moment I remembered the state in which I'd left my things the previous night. “Oh dear, I must go fetch my things from down by the river.”
“Oh, that's what you meant,” Roxie said. “I though I saw some clothes spread on the bushes earlier, but a' course I din' want to keep the animals hungry. I'll help.”
My 'feral' as Roxie called him, tried to follow me out until he ran out of chain, and then he set up such a howl that I felt obliged to go back to placate him. Despite Roxie's warning against soft hearts, he gave me such a piteous look that I convinced her to let me release him rather than putting him in a 'silencer' collar that would merely render him mute.
“Alright then, all I can find for you on hand is this ket-diwarg tandem chain with quieters. Just carry the ket side unlatched like so. Careful not to let it latch, though, 'cause I ain't found keys to that side.”
Though the watertight trunk was as dry and pristine as I hoped, unfortunately its contents weren't immediately practical. They including some modern electrical supplies from the capitol, as well as my small selection of fashionable clothes, a few books and a foolishly large canister of spices imported from the New Territories without which I could no longer bear to cook. Most of my everyday wear had been in the lost trunk. I was able to rescue enough from the bushes and my poor valise to provide one complete set of attire, but it appeared I would need to rely heavily on Mother's wardrobe.
More upsetting was that a small animal had chewed its way into my pigskin pouch and severely damaged my travel papers. As if that wasn't bad enough, when I tossed the pouch on the ground in disgust, my feral diwarg companion interpreted that as a signal that it was a fair-game morsel and quite literally wolfed it down in a single bite. I'm not sure which was more frustrating: the way Roxie laughed at my foolishness, or the way the diwarg responded to my agitation by knocking me down and rutting with me yet again while Roxie stood by and apologized that it wasn't safe to try to stop a feral. Afterwards she explained to me that it wasn't good to let myself get stuck belly-to-belly like that because then I wouldn't be able to position my legs to free myself.
“Do you know, how is it that I'm not in terrible pain?” I asked, the angle of my view perhaps exaggerating how much I had stretched to accommodate the diwarg's shaft and bulb.
Roxie tilted her head as if this was a strange question. “Well, didn't you rub in a little ket squirt before you started for the day?”
“No?”
Her eyes widened slightly. “You really are a natural, if you can take a stuffing like that on just diwarg precum.”
“I'm sorry, I still don't quite understand.”
“That's one thing they use ketoil for, making skin more elastic.”
“Not to this extent!” I objected, motioning toward my impaled trunk.
She laughed. “I 'spect not, since they don't get it fresh. The aviettes have the most powerful squirts, but kettin squirts are plenty powerful on their own. Any onabeast precum also does it at least a little, which is why you wasn't torn in two. That, plus the kind of natural talent as ain't been seen since Lily herself! Though I never heard of Lily gettin' herself stuck in the frontal. Might want to hold on there, or it'll get mighty uncomfortable waiting for a feral knot to shrink down.”
Thus incapacitated, I had to listen to Roxie's lessons on harvest and breeding basics from underneath the amorous feral diwarg Roxie had named 'Gent' for her own amusement. I couldn't complain too much: she demonstrated every technique she said I should use, some of which meant she had to get naked and stimulate the beasts as well.
“When you're new to onabreeding, collecting the product yourself is always the safest bet. It takes more time, but it's a sure thing. Getting them to shoot with just your hands is easier once they're used to doing it inside you, so try it that way first. I been doing this long enough that I can do it with just my hands and bosom, but you'll need time to do that. And well, more bosom.” She hefted her bountiful breasts to illustrate.
“I don't think I'll ever get to your abundance,” I pointed out.
She guffawed. “No, I don't 'spect you will. But you might get bigger if you have a baby or two.”
“That doesn't seem too likely at this point.”
Roxie shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Well, we'll see in the end, won't we? You're a mighty pretty girl, you know. And bright. Remind me of my sister.”
“Your sister?”
“Margo. She's 'bout your age, and got even less on her chest. But she works for the Breeder's Guild, in the offices. Helps deal with the Artannian taxers and such. Not much of a breeder herself, mind, but she's a big help to all of us. Mighty proud of her. She should be by soon to renew the acquaintance, as they say, and talk business at ya. I can tell you got the Riannon gift with the animals so you'll have no problem in the barn, but you should still listen close to what my little sis says so you don't get problems at the bank.”
“Is this the right way to do this?” I asked, because I was sliding a flat collection pan under my buttocks to catch Gent's load when he finally pulled out of me.
“Sure. Just be careful about bucking your hips too much or he might take it as an invitation to start up again. Ferals are hard to breed but they sure do produce when they want to. I can see he's definitely the type to bond, so you'll want to get him with a likely ket or hostrus and see if they can get young. If they can,” she made a decisive snapping noise with her hand, “You got a load a' gold on your hands.”
“Oh. I thought onabeasts could breed with any other onabeast.”
Roxie shook her head at my naiveté. “Not easily. Sure, standard onastock will, but they been bred for it for ages, I understand. The wild onabeasts is a whole 'nother deal. That's part a' why ferals like Gent are so important. They got good product if you know how to keep 'em happy, but also the crosses might be able to breed with other ferals that we can't breed at all today. I gotta tell ye, Riannon,” she thumped Gent on the side to coax him to stand, then helped me sit up and make sure none of Gent's product was spilled. Once I was up and holding the pan for myself, she continued her confidential thought, “I'm as Artannian as the next gel, but ever since Lily showed the marchioness that Artannians could tame wild onabeasts, we've been treated better than ever we were under the Empire, with all them priests talkin' about the corruption of onabreeding and suchlike. As if there was somethin' bad about getting a little fun outta work.”
I reflected that I had always thought the sermons about the threat of onabeasts to the 'virtue' of the gently bred had been dire exaggerations, but now I thought they rather understated the case. Clearly Roxie had lost all sense of decency long ago.
But the priests had been right about something else. By refusing to marry, I had chosen this fate for myself. And maybe I should just learn to enjoy it, like Roxie. My sisters didn't have to know what was becoming of their older sister, as long as I put enough Artannian pounds in the bank for them to continue on in Noldon. It would be best if they didn't, know, so they wouldn't have to conceal it to keep their reputations.
Suddenly an enormous woman stood up in the stalls, gargantuan breasts attached to odd contraptions trailing rubber hoses . No, not a woman in a normal sense; this was the farm's hostrus, and the contraptions were part of the 'improved electric milking machine' that had cost a small fortune. I had seen kettin when I was a child so I was accustomed to the idea of humanoid onabeasts, but I had barely even heard of the hostrus, which appeared to be like kettin except with bovine rather than feline characteristics. I was somewhat surprised to notice that, except for her udder-like breasts, she and I had similar proportions, with moderate shoulders but exaggeratedly-wide hips. Actually, her hips were even wider in proportion to her waist than mine were, but her huge breasts balanced her relatively narrow shoulders out. Never before had I felt so unendowed.
“Magnificent, ain't she?” Roxie asked me when she saw how I'd been struck dumb. “They make the best, healthiest milk you ever saw, and they never lose it as long as you keep 'em milked, so you don't even have to keep 'em calving. This newfangled milker gizmo is the damnedest thing I ever saw, too, pardon my vulgarity. But it's truly astounding.” Roxie flipped a switch and popped the teatcups off the hostrus. “See? It don't irritate her teats and works like a champ for as long as you please. I guess the windmills keep filling those big cans of electrical fuel in the electricity shed.”
“Yes, they're called batteries. I actually learned much regarding the new art of machines powered by electrical energy when I was in Noldon.” Before I was blocked from further studies by my failure to be male.
“Well I'll be! That's lucky, because I don't know that anyone around these parts would have the first idea of how to fix it if the gizmo broke. I don't mind milking a cow lady or two, but it'd be a real pain once you get some more.” Roxie pushed away the hostrus' hands, which where feeling at Roxie's breasts curiously. “It's especially bad for me, because after seeing me hand-milk them, sometimes they try to hand-milk me, too.” Roxie glanced at my insignificant chest. “Probably wouldn't be a problem for you just yet.”
I laughed. “Well, I don't think I'm likely to get bigger. Well, short of having children, which doesn't seem to be in my stars.”
She shrugged. “Never know what fresh air and farm food might do for you.”
“Earlier you mentioned problems at the bank, before I digressed.”
“You what?”
“I, uh, jumped the conversation off its tracks. I wanted to hear more about trouble at the bank.”
“Oh well, I don't know too much because I don't sell product down the river, but I hear the new Artannian inspector is against onabreeders. Margo would know more. Me, I gotta get going so I should let you know a few more things, just in case I can't make it back by for a while.
“First, remember that the standard-breed diwargs over there are right bastards, like most of 'em, so be careful with 'em, and never let them off their chains. If they get a hold on you, let them do their business, but don't let them make it a habit, or they'll think they're breedin' you rather than the other way 'round. Also, so's I don't forget to mention it, you want to finish building the other barns so's diwargs are with diwargs, kettin with kettin, and suchlike. Puttin' them all together like this is just askin' for trouble and wasted product. I keep 'em all together at my shop barn, but that's only for a little while and then they go elsewhere one way or another.
“At any rate, the second thing to remember is to make sure you harvest or breed every one of 'em at least twice daily. Once daily if you're really in trouble, but you do that too much and production goes down, and bad behavior goes up. And never forget they're bigger'n you are, even the kettin.” Roxie patted me on the head as if to emphasize her point.
“The third thing is that if you start breeding them, the adults to show up a day after juveniles, so you have to tag and collar those juveniles even if you don't plan to keep them. Don't do it on nursing night, either, because then the collar's too small and the tag might not be accurate.”
“I'm sorry, I don't understand. What do you mean, 'a day after juveniles'? Is that a figure of speech? I know onabeasts mature quickly, but...”
Roxie cocked her head. “Your mother didn't tell you? Fey pregnancies aren't like other pregnancies. For standard breeds the whole thing lasts less than a week, and the young are delivered directly to the shadow world. They come back the next night to nurse, then the next night as juveniles. On the third day you'll come in to find the adults in the barn.”
“The Pilvan shadow world?” I asked, having always assumed it was just a matter of Pilvish religion, not an everyday thing.
“As far as I understand, leastwise. I hear slave Pilvans can carry onabeasts and vice-versa, and when slave Pilvans mate with one-another, they make young slave Pilvans just as fast. I gather that's something they don't let just any breeder do. If it's even true. Certainly never heard of an Artannian breeder doing it yet, not even Lily.”
“How strange.”
She laughed. “They think we're strange, carrying around babies in our bellies for ages, and being persnickety about whether the mother's married to the father even if neither are toffs. Pilvan lords and ladies don't hire staff to expand the household, they make it in the bedroom with the staff they already got.” For once Roxie seemed to think my shock was appropriate, and it was reassuring to know that she could still see something bizarre about Pilvans and the Fey. “But all that's neither here nor there for the likes of us. Point is, when you start breedin', be ready. Puttin' a collar on a full-grown diwarg ain't easy.”
I had no trouble believing that. The diwargs watching our conversation couldn't be a great deal shorter than ten feet tall when standing on their hind legs, which they did often. I could hardly imagine how a nine-stone woman like me could force one of them to submit to being collared.
“The fourth item is to keep a lookout for Artannians from Crow's Crossing coming up this way. They got nasty ideas about breeders and blame us for Far Grenning being given to Pilvia. Might want to stake one of your diwargs out on the grounds near the river to make sure none a' them come up this way. Don't seem too likely, but better safe 'n sorry, what?”
“Oh.” It was a sobering thought that the market town I'd had my first lemon soda water as a child was now dangerous to me. It also gave me a different idea about why everyone had been so unhelpful.
“Well then, good luck. Good job with Gent. You're a natural, Riannon. And definitely let me know if you capture any more ferals. I'll find you a buyer in no time.” She gave me a wink that I think was supposed to be reassuring, but for some reason it made me wonder what it would feel like to kiss someone with such big breasts between us.
I shook my head and got back to the serious business of looking after a barnyard full of onabeasts.
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