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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
- 5
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Though I couldn't see very much from the hostrus barn, I was able to put together that Lady Apowyl had lent farmhands as well as onastock, and that most of the former were engaged in finishing the by-species barns Jrusk and I had been planning to build. I also suspected that the loaned workers were watching Jrusk carefully, as he never seemed to do rounds unaccompanied. He did come through the barn, and I sometimes saw him looking at me hard like he was trying to figure me out. But that was the extent of it; evidently he accepted that I was Bonbon the exotic onabeast and didn't associate me with Miss Oakenfield.
As a conscientious surrogate farm manager, Jrusk did what I would have done and kept breeding me with the rarest and most valuable stock he had. Emmer had delivered Kayan, another futastrus, for the Riannon farm before Lady Apowyl had fetched her back, so it was between Gent and Kayan. I hoped very much for Gent, both because I missed his relative gentleness and consideration, and because my bosom was already rivaling Roxie's and it was getting to be tiring to stand up straight. Just because I kept having bizarre and compulsive fantasies about it didn't mean that Lady Apowyl would prefer me with hostrus-sized breasts. Plus, the rational side of me knew that the erotic novelty of having enormous breasts would eventually fade.
In the meantime, however, I was so fortunate as to be sent to Gent, where I could enjoy the feeling of them swaying authoritatively and sometimes bumping softly into my arms while he enthusiastically greeted me. It was a pleasant experience, as was the post-coital rest together. Unfortunately, it didn't get me pregnant, and there was some argument as to whether they should continue trying to breed me to Gent or if they should switch to Kayan. The deciding factor was that my milk could not yet be sold down the river for a good price because no one knew what its uses might be. Thus, it would be best to focus on getting another high-producing diwarg rather than potentially increasing my milk.
While overhearing that conversation I finally accepted that if I didn't somehow communicate with my keepers soon, I would inevitably find out exactly how large my breasts could get. But, not yet, because they were keeping me with Gent. Just as soon as they changed their minds, though, I'd make my move. Whatever that might be.
It took two more days during which I became more and more anxious during every trip to the milker under Emmer and Kayan's leering gaze, but Gent finally got the job done. Thus protected from being impregnated by anyone else, I put thoughts of desperate action aside again, at least for the next few days.
That night, a groom rushed into the barn where Gent and I were sleeping and hooked a chain into my collar as if I was being taken for a walk. Instead, though, he took hot water and towels to me, cleaning up any traces of Gent's pre-sleep rutting and making sure there wasn't any straw sticking to my backside. It seemed I was about to be exhibited, but to whom?
“Oh, that must be Bonbon now,” I heard Margo say in educated-sounding Pilvish.
“I would have preferred if you had not disturbed her,” Lady Apowyl replied, “But if she is here I may as well see her.”
“Yes milady, here she is,” the groom said, leading me into my own sitting room. Inside waited a small crowd of people, many of whom I would never have imagined I would see all in one place. Seated and looking even more wooden than her chair was Dame Delilah, with her armored man behind her. Near her and looking tense was Margo, backed by her buxom sister wearing far more conservative clothing than usual. Looking miserable and confused, Jrusk sat in the seat of the house and tried to efface himself. The largest group surrounded the seated Marchioness, composed of three Pilvan grooms, Renda standing carefully where she wouldn't hit her head, and Merrith, looking dissatisfied as ever. Finally, and most surprisingly, an impressive woman wearing something that might have been a nun's habit, except that it subtly emphasized her grand femininity and bore the symbols of the onabreeder. It could only be the legendary breeder known as Saint Lily amongst breeders, Lily Peacemaker amongst well-disposed Artannians, and less kind names amongst others. I had seen her once as a child, and she'd not appeared older than my mother then, nor did she now, when she must have had sixty years in her dish at the least. She stood near Margo, but apart from the whole tableau somehow. Behind Lily stood a much less imposing woman wearing the sort of coat one wore in a laboratory.
“Why is she standing on her tiptoes?” Lady Apowyl asked mildly.
“She's got diwarg hindpaws, milady,” the groom leading me replied. Something of an exaggeration, but it was indubitable that I could no longer stand with my feet flat.
“Was she not provided with sandals that have elevated heels?”
“Not just yet, milady.”
“Provide them.” The groom dropped from her notice and she began speaking excellent Artannian to Delilah. “As you can see, she's a very rare specimen, well worth a tremendous amount of money to a collector like myself. Tea, Dame Delilah?” she added as an elegantly-dressed Pilvan slave arrived bearing a platter with two ornate china pots and a number of cobalt glaze cups with translucent etched designs. I had seen pottery like it at the Dehiliard residence, though not this set, and I felt a little superior when Dililah plainly goggled at its beauty.
Taking silence for a yes, the slave placed a saucer and cup next to Delilah, barely suppressing a smirk as she poured. It was fascinating to watch Delilah being intimidated, and who could blame a dumb animal like myself for staring? Besides, it seemed as if almost everyone in the room was staring at her, and it was making her nervous.
The groom ran up behind me and started to lead me away.
“No, take her upstairs,” Renda growled at the groom, and he switched to helping me climb the stairs. Another attendant was waiting at the top and led me to the master bedroom and inside to find whole team of them ready to descend on me with the colored paste, steaming hot washcloths and even one of my old corsets. A maelstrom of activity brought me back up to Dehiliard house standards, and beyond: a pair of tailors entered with the fashionable dress I'd brought with me from Noldon, clearly intending it for me.
It had already undergone significant alteration, and I could see where some fabric had been transplanted from the hem to add wedges to the bosom, then the missing strip replaced with ribbon. They started the corset relatively loose, then cinched tighter several times before the dress would fit without further alteration. Then came the task of finishing the bust, which they did as with such fast and careful fingers they might have been the latest sewing machines. In less time than I would have imagined possible, I might almost have passed for a Noldon debutante dressed for company. It was even a modest dress in a way, as a small added furbelow managed to cover the beginnings of my cleavage, though of course it could hardly begin to disguise the vastness of my chest. Certainly the fabric over my raised and contained breasts filled much of my downward view.
Then down the stairs I went and back to the sitting room, where conversation had become more general, though hushed. It hushed further as I entered and all but Renda and Lady Apowyl turned to look at me in surprise. Renda's attention never wavered from Delilah's soldier Ferris, and Lady Apowyl showed no surprise, only triumph.
“Very nice, Bonbon. Perhaps you could come here and rub my shoulders?” She said, tapping her shoulder and nodding toward me as she said it.
I nodded and walked over behind her as the room looked on.
“Yes, thank you, dear.”
Dame Delilah was the first to speak. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Bonbon is not Pilvan, as you can see, but she is quite capable of contributing to the running of a farm. And as she is lent under livestock rules, she does not count as a hire. Nor could she possibly be subject to your vice laws.”
“You would have animals running the farm, Lady Apowyl?”
The Marchioness stopped my hands on her shoulders before saying, “We are all animals, Dame Delilah. Miss Margo.”
“Yes my lady?”
“Please enter Bonbon as a guild-approved farm manager for Riannon's farm. Renda will guarantee.”
“Yes milady,” Renda grunted.
“I'm sorry Lady Apowyl, but I can't unilaterally approve a farm manager,” Margo objected apologetically.
“Yes, of course not, but we have quite a lot of guild members and authorities present. It would surprise me to find that we could not secure all approval necessary to enter Bonbon into the rolls at least on a probate basis.”
“I am in support,” Lily said simply, and the expression on Delilah's face showed that she knew no breeder would vote against Saint Lily.
“Now we are inducting a farm animal into the guild?” Delilah began, sounding outraged, but then Renda shifted her pose slightly and Delilah thought better of whatever else she was going to say.
“Yes. What precisely is the process, Margo?”
Margo thought quickly. “Bonbon can go on the local ledger as soon as she pays her first quarter dues and either presents a passed exam or has a senior member guarantee her. Renda is senior, so all we need is ten Artannian pounds or two Pilvan crowns, for now.”
“What a coincidence. Bonbon's quarter day pay is two crowns. Merrith?”
“Yes my lady,” she said, and two small but heavy gold coins were placed in my hand. I just stared at them, not sure what to do until Renda surreptitiously maneuvered me to Margo while making it appear as if she was just following me.
Margo took the coins and fetched a paper from her little attaché, asking “Do we have a waxjack here?”
“It's here,” Roxie said, fetching and lighting it.
Unfortunately Margo's was in Pilvish so I hadn't the slightest idea what to do with it. “This is to declare that you, Bonbon, agree to the rules of the Onabreeders Guild of Far Grenning, Westfen and Apowyl, that you will render your fellow breeders all due assistance as they will for you, and that you will never mistreat or abuse animals in your charge. You just, ah, here,” she took my thumb, rubbed her ink-blotting paper on it, then pressed my thumb on the page twice, then signed the date herself. “That'll work,” she pronounced.
Margo placed the two coins at the bottom of the page and folded over them, then sealed that section with the jack before writing her own name. I was a little irritated; I could have written my own name and showed them all! But then again, it wouldn't have been a good idea to upset whatever Lady Apowyl's plan was, though, because I was at least being inducted into the Guild again, and apparently my license as Miss Oakenfield remained in good standing. If I was to be my own agent, then I could at least potentially get everything done. Best not to disturb that outcome.
“So, I think the farm will remain managed as long as it needs to, don't you agree Dame Delilah?” Lady Apowyl said.
Dame Delilah thought for a moment, then said. “Guarantors do not free breeders from the examination requirement; they merely stand security until they fulfill the traditional requirements by winter solstice. Therefore, if Bonbon here fails to complete the exam within that time frame, then her membership will be invalidated and the license suspended.” She stood. “So, I think you have your work cut out for you, don't you? Good day. Officer Ferris, please lead the way.”
After that the room was quiet for a moment, then Lady Apowyl said, “Margo, has she understood the statutes correctly?”
“I believe she may have, my lady. I would need to reread them to be sure.”
“Very well. Would it be possible to change the test, or give a special test?” Lady Apowyl asked.
Lily interrupted. “I think, Lady Apowyl, that we should first hear a more complete explanation of Bonbon and your intentions concerning her.”
There was general assent to this, and Lady Apowyl considered. “I think you may have noticed that Bonbon bears some resemblance to Miss Oakenfield, also known as Miss Riannon. This is, I believe, because they are the same person. Further, she is the child of the departed Mrs. Oakenfield, also known as Riannon, but not the child of the similarly departed Mr. Oakenfield. A prime hypothesis is that Bonbon's sire is a type of feral demon that is attested in some older breeding codexes, and Riannon clipped the spawn's tail at birth so that she could raise the child as an Artannian.”
That startled me. I did have a very small old scar just at the base of my spine, but I had been told that I got it falling off a pony when I was a small child. I almost remembered the event, though the story had been told so many times that even if it was a lie from whole cloth, it would be a wonder if I hadn't formed a vision of it that almost counted as a memory. I suddenly remembered how Mother had told me that I might not ever grow body hair like the other girls because I had been accidentally electrocuted as a child. It had seemed like a natural explanation when I was small and electricity a mysterious force of unknown power. Yet I'd come to know much more about it without ever having heard that it had any special affect on body hair. What else had I been told to hide my true origins? Had Mother's knowledge of my sire been the real reason I was selected as heir to the farm? Was that the reason I hadn't been pressured to marry like my sisters?
“So mating with the onabeasts is why she can't talk any more, my lady?” Margo said, drawing my attention back to the discussion in progress.
“I believe so, yes,” Lady Apowyl agreed.
“If we mated her with, uh, an Artannian, would she recover, yer ladyship?” Roxie asked awkwardly.
“I can't imagine she could contract traits from non-fey. Mating her with Pilvans might help. I'm, uh, considering the matter.” I wondered if she was thinking of breeding me herself, and it gave me little flutters in my stomach.
“Breeding a creature of partial Artannian heritage with a Pilf, my lady?” Merrith asked, sounding horrified. “Besides being against the treaty, it's an outrage against Pilvan dignity. The slave covenants only allow...” she started to say before Lady Apowyl snapped her fingers imperiously.
“You will be quiet now. I do not propose to violate any treaties or covenants. For now she will continue in whatever capacity she's capable.”
“Well, how is she supposed to pass the examination?” Margo asked sharply, forgetting Lady Apowyl' dignities.
“Is not winning 'best of show' at one of your livestock competitions considered sufficient to win guild membership?”
“Just a junior membership, my lady” Margo protested, then stopped with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Though, junior members are still allowed to fulfill existing contracts and use existing licenses. It's really all she would need, I guess. For a while. But how do you expect her to win best of show? Roxie? What do you think of the stock here?
Roxie shrugged. “The farm's stock is good, but 'cept maaaybe the feral, I don't think any got a hope of winning.”
Margo nodded absently. “And you can't just convince the other breeders not to compete, or the judges will smell it.”
“No no,” Lady Apowyl said, “She will enter herself. There's no rule against that, is there?”
Everyone stared at her in disbelief, but no one said it couldn't be done. Roxie was the first to say more. “What category, yer ladyship?”
“Dairy animals. ”
They all looked at my chest, which, lifted and shaped by the dress, looked plausibly hostrus-like in proportion to my petite frame, but no amount of presentation would make anyone think they approached a hostrus' in absolute size.
“It may or may not work,” Lady Apowyl admitted in the face of genera skepticism, “but it seems the best chance we have right now. In the end, I am determined to find a way to restore her mental faculties regardless of other outcomes.”
Her quiet assurance made me feel even gooier inside.
“Officially, of course, she will be selecting her own studs. Renda, you will see that certain prime futastrus are present to breed her?”

“Yes, milady.”
“You truly intend to restore her mind?” Lily asked Lady Apowyl, and the room became especially quiet again as everyone held their breath. Saint Lily had the power to derail any plans concerning the Guild.
“I will, yes,” Lady Apowyl agreed, “As soon as we return from the fair.”
“Very well. I wish you all success.”
As a sign of respect, Lady Apowyl stood to receive Saint Lily's departing bow, then she motioned everyone else in the room to absent themselves. The dismissal evidently didn't apply to Renda and Merrith, however, as they both remained. “Merrith, you will see that Renda is provided with whatever she requests. Renda, make free of any beasts in the estate stables that you think might take Bonbon's fancy. Merrith, you remain down here.
The Marchioness' skirts couldn't quite hide her giant erection as she led me back upstairs, and by the time she had dismissed the Pilvans who helped me out of my dress and corset, my excitement had created a slick reaching past my knees. No sooner did the door close than she lifted her skirt and plunged into me about halfway. As she slid in and out, deeper each time, she began to suckle at my breasts, congratulating me on their enormity and telling me she looked forward to seeing them as big as any hostrus'. I could hardly imagine how I would move around with breasts that big, but while she spoke, I didn't care; I just wanted to be the little cow of her mind's eye.
Later in the night she sometimes talked to me while she fucked me, but it seemed like I was so deep in the moment that I couldn't make sense of anything she was saying, even though it sounded like Pilvish. All I could really focus on was the feeling of her lips or fingers on my nipples, and the pistoning of her penis deeper and deeper inside me, until her thighs slapped hard against my buttocks between my widely-spread legs.
It's hard to remember later how long it lasted, but I clearly remember literally oozing cum from almost every orifice when I woke, feeling wonderful. The Marchioness was gone, but Renda came and picked me up to take down to the special stall in the hostrus barn where I was to spend most of my time until the county fair.
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