MacGregor’s Creamery
By Snow the Bear

Pete had been a virtual nomad for the last 5 years. Constantly traveling from farm to farm, hauling his few possessions around in the back of his truck. He had first heard of MacGregor’s Creamery from a farmhand he worked with at his last job. He told Pete the creamery had diversity drive in effect, and they were specifically looking for Mythic’s. This gave Pete an advantage since he was a griffin, but also made him fell a little guilty. He had never been a fan of diversity initiatives, he believed in hiring the best fur for the job. He also wasn’t a fan of the term Mythic’s, but he could understand it’s use. For centuries the so called Mythical races had used their magic to hide from the rest of the world. They had only reintegrated themselves about 100 years ago, when they deemed the other races had become sufficiently civilized. So he understood why mundane furs had come to think of griffins, dragons, unicorns and their like as myths – and why the term Mythic’s still persisted. When his last contract had neared its end he contacted MacGregor’s Creamery looking for a spot. After a few phone calls with Mr. MacGregor he was invited to join the team. 

Now he drove his battered but reliable pickup through a grid of unmarked dirt roads. He had entered this mess of country roads almost an hour ago, but now the GPS said he was almost at his destination. The various fields of corn, wheat, and other crops towered above the road obscuring the countryside, so he was forced to rely on the GPS coordinates his potential employer gave him. Not that the griffin minded, the sun was warm, the air was fresh, and the GPS estimated he was ahead of schedule.  

Finally, a sign emerged on the right designating the road to MacGregor’s Creamery. He quickly turned down this road, leaving rooster tails of dust in his wake As he drove down this road he could see a house and several barns appear in the distance. He came to a large parking area with an eclectic mix of cars. He guessed there were about three dozen cars parked, ranging from rusted out shit boxes to luxury SUV’s. He parked his truck and got out to stretch his stiff legs. He wondered who all these cares could belong to. The farm was big, but not big enough to need the amount of workers all these cars could carry.

He strolled up to the house and knocked on the door. A few seconds later his knock was answered by an Irish Setter. Pete guessed the dog was 20 or even 25 years older than him, somewhere in his late forties. 
“Hi you must be Pete” the dog said.
“Yes sir, are you Mr. MacGregor?” Pete replied in a respectful tone.
The dog chuckled, “yes but call me Dylan we aren’t formal around here. And defiantly, don’t call me sir, I work for a living”. Pete grinned at Dylan’s reply, and his nerves relaxed a little. 
“Come on in, we’ll talk about your position in the kitchen. I got some fresh lemonade waiting for us”. 

A few minutes later they were at the kitchen table sipping the lemonade while Pete described his farming experience. Pete talked about growing up on his uncle’s dairy farm until the bank took it. And how he had been migrating from farm to farm the last few years, working until the work dried up or the bank foreclosed. Seemed like farms were shutting down left and right. Dylan assured Pete his farm ran debt free, and as long as Pete pulled his weight there would always be a place for him here. Pete was happy to hear this. He was tired of moving on every year, sometimes 2-3 times a year. 

Then he asked Dylan about the farm, and the job. He found the answers a little vague but Dylan assured him everything would be clear after his orientation tour. Dylan handed him a clipboard with the farms standard contract and told him to let him know if he had any concerns.

Pete started to skim the contract. He would live onsite and meals were included. Day to day necessities were also included, which was an uncommon but welcome perk.  The contract seemed pretty standard until he got to the Compensation section. A shocked expression appeared on his face, the pay was more than double what he was used to. On top of that there was a profit sharing bonus, retirement plan and full medical coverage.

Salary negotiation tactics had never been Pete’s forte so he blurted out “I’ve never seen a farm that could afford this kind of pay & benny’s. How do you offer this?”
Dylan smiled warmly, and replied “our cream is a premium product, customers pay top dollar for it”. 

Pete flipped the page and continued to read the contract. Minimum employment term was 6 months. Neither side could end it early and both could agree to extend it indefinably. That seemed fair, barring extreme circumstances neither side would want to pull out mid-season. Then he got to the final section, a Non-Disclosure Agreement.

He looked at Dylan, “An NDA? You said this is an organic farm, I usually see NDA’s on GMO farms”.
“We are organic, right down to the feed, No GMO’s, Franken-cows or laboratory hormone cocktails here. But there are unique parts of our operation we need to protect. If my competitors stole my secrets my product wouldn’t command such a premium anymore”. 
That sounded reasonable, to afford compensating their workforce like that they had to be doing something exceptional.

Pete skimmed the legalese of the rest. 
Blah, blah, blah … will not reveal details of operations …
Blah, blah, blah … MacGregor’s Creamery granted ownership of all derivative works …
Blah, blah, blah … MacGregor’s Creamery granted exclusive ownership of production facilities & exclusivity of product …
 
It all seemed too good to be true, but Pete would to give it a try. At worst he would endure 6 months and be moving on again. But if this wasn’t a scam he could see himself staying here a good long while. He signed the contract and handed the clipboard back to Dylan.

“Signatures are for the lawyers. I prefer to shake on a deal” he said and held out his hand. 
Pete enthusiastically shook Dylan’s hand. He suspected he would get along just fine with his new boss.
“Alright, let’s get to that tour and show you the place. They got up and he followed Dylan through the back door. They crossed the yard to the first of the barns. Dylan opened the door and waved Pete in.

At first the site he saw was as expected. Six rows of stalls ran down the barn from their end to the opposite end, and most of them were occupied. Most of the stalls held cows, but he also saw the heads of a few horses poking over the walls. But something didn’t look quite right. Then it clicked, normally cows faced into the stalls when they were being milked, but many of the animals faced out – and they weren’t cows but … bulls?

Confused Pete approached one of the stalls with an outward facing bull. He saw it wasn’t actually standing, but laying in a harness that let its feet hang to the ground. Then he saw a milking tube was sucking away on the bull’s cock. The part of the tube covering the cock had a membrane inside. It appeared the suction caused this membrane to squeeze and ripple along the bulls cock. Pete imagined the affect would be like a firm hand stroking it. The bull let out a lusty moo and the tube suddenly filled with cum, which the tube quickly sucked away. Pete whipped around to face Dylan, “what kind of dairy is this?”.

Dylan chucked, “Dairy, that’s a good one. We’re a creamery, good old wholesome man cream. And the top global supplier to boot. Besides the livestock aren’t complaining, isn’t that right Steve?” 
“No complaints here, farmer Dylan. I take it this griffin’s a newbie” replied a winded voice from the stall.

Pete turned around to face Steve but there was only the bull – and then he realized it wasn’t a feral.
“You’re a fur, not a feral!” The bull just rolled his eyes at the griffin as if to say duh.

Dylan cleared his throat to get Pete’s attention. “Let me explain young’un. At this creamery we exclusively milk males of cum. About half the livestock here are feral’s and the rest are furs like you, me and Steve here”. Pete looked back at the bull and then to the other furs in sight. They all looked happy and peaceful. Some looked at him with a bemused expression, a few looked away bashfully. As far as he could tell none were restrained. Whatever was happening here it didn’t appear to be against their will.  

“Walk with me Pete and I’ll give you all the details. I just ask you keep an open mind” said Dylan. 
Pete looked at Steve and asked, “you’re doing this by choice?”
Steve rolled his eyes again, “does it look like I’m being forced? Well, forced to stay at least. You could argue I’m forced to cum”, he said and laughed. “But to your meaning, yes I’m here voluntarily. Where else can you get paid to … to … OH GOD … CUM!”. Pete saw the Bulls cock jerk as the milking tube drew away another thick load of cum.

“Come on Pete, let’s leave Steve to enjoy himself while I explain the operation”. 
Pete followed Dylan in stunned silence while he explained the workings of the farm.

“Before I begin let me assure you nothing we do here is illegal. All the feral’s are treated humanely, and all furs are competent, consenting adults. Like I said back in the house, we have a customer base that desires a premium product. And they’re willing to pay handsomely for that product.  Our livestock, get a share of the proceeds from the sales of their cum”. Pete’s brow furrowed at the word livestock. 

Dylan continued, “I can see from your reaction calling fur’s livestock rubs you the wrong way, but most of them prefer that term. They say it’s got to do with something called headspace, I don’t really understand it myself but whatever makes them happy. Anyway, like any crop how much both sides earn depends on the standard market factors – quantity, quality and market demand”. He paused and added “Honestly I bet most of them would do it for free”.

“And they live here on the farm full time?” Pete asked.
“No, only a rare few do.  Almost all of them come for the day, or maybe a weekend. Several regulars will come for the week when on vacation from their real lives. They’re only a few lifers that stay full time”.

The large number and variety of cars in the parking area now made sense to Pete. 
The idea of living full time as cattle getting milked boggled Pete’s mind. “Who buys this stuff?” he asked.
“Our customers are mainly Bio-research firms, some breeders – they buy the feral cum, fertility clinics – which of course don’t buy the feral cum, and a few with … um … special interests.

Pete smirked at that, “what kind of special interests?”.

“All kinds, from kinky to competitive. For example, one customer is a porno studio that specializes in bukkake scenes and whose audiences crave authenticity. Another customer is a famous Olympic athlete. I won’t name names, but he uses cum enemas Instead of testosterone injections to get an edge on his competitor’s. He claims he’s not technically cheating”. They both chuckled at that.

As they talked they continued to slowly walk down the aisle. Suddenly loud frantic squealing emerged from a stall just ahead of them. They came to a stop in front of this stall. 
“Speaking of special interests, how’s it going little piggy?” asked Dylan.  
The little piggy was actually an obese boar. Hanging between his back legs was a ball sack so massive Pete wondered how he could walk upright. The boar was shuddering in his harness as squirt after squirt of cum was drawn anyway by his milking tube.

“Hey farmer Dylan”, the boar uttered between squeals.

Dylan entered the stall and proceeded to the machine in the back. “Milo here is what you would call a large quantity producer. But his cream is just the tip of the iceberg”. He removed a cover to reveal the inside of the machine. The milking tube split like a Y. One fork went up to the ceiling and ran along the others. The other fork dropped into a large glass collection jug. A jelly like substance filled half this jug. 

Dylan explained the apparatus. “I had to custom build this milker, starting with a milking tube to workover the corkscrew Milo calls a cock. If you’ve bred feral pigs you already know this, but when swine finish cumming they release a thick jelly. It plugs the sow so their potent seed won’t drip out. The cum is light and runny so the suction pulls it up and away to the collection room. The jelly is thick and heavy so it drops down the other tube into that jar”. Dylan patted the boar’s rump, “good piggy, almost 2 gallons of piggy pudding already!”

Pete looked confused, “why do you call it piggy pudding?”
Dylan laughed, “Sorry, inside joke I guess. That’s what the customer calls it”.
“Do you know why they call it that, or what they use it for?” Pete replied.
Dylan smirked, “what do you usually do with pudding?”. He saw a queasy expression come over the griffin’s face. “Yeah that was my first reaction too, but to each their own I guess”. 

Dylan replaced the cover on the milker and came out of the stall. Then they continued on to leave the piggy to make his pudding in private.

“That’s some rig you made for the boar” Pete remarked.
“Heh that’s nothing! You should have seen what I had to make last month for an elephant. That cock was longer than my whole body!”

Pete’s kept glancing into the occupied stalls as they passed them, so he missed the approaching fur. 
“Hi farmer Dylan, your just in time” came a voice from in front of him. Pete turned to see a horse walking toward them. He looked fairly fit and strong, but the greying fur around the muzzle suggested he was getting on in years. He was also naked and seemed unabashed to be so. His long cock hung limply from its sheath, freely swaying as he walked.

“Hey Clyde, I’d ask how it’s hanging but I can see that for myself”. Both Dylan and Clyde laughed at this, but Pete blushed and diverted his eyes – he wasn’t used to such casual nakedness. 

“Pete here is new to the farm, I’m given him the tour”.
“Welcome Pete, trust me you’ll love it here. I’m just coming back from my physical. The Vet says I’m good to go. Of course I’ll still need a little help from EJ”. The horse looked at the griffin and blushed a bit, “sorry if that was TMI”.

“EJ, is he a farmhand?” Pete asked.
Dylan chuckled, “Not quite Pete, but he does help out. Let’s get you setup Clyde”.

The horse climbed into his stables harness. Dylan sat on a little stool next to Clyde. He began to stroke the cock to get it fully out of its sheath. Then he picked up a sponge from a bucket of soapy water and began to clean the cock.  By the time it was cleaned and rinsed it looked mostly erect, but not quite ridged. 

Pete stared transfixed by the sight. He was straight, but had never be repulsed by gay acts. He had never been interested in men before but he defiantly finding watching this arousing. Then again could this be considered gay, even if it was just standard procedure? Either way his cock was stiffening. Uneasily he asked “Dylan do you mind if I just watch this time?”. He didn’t feel comfortable lending a hand just yet.

“I’ve got no problem with it, but it’s really up to Clyde”. The horse confirmed he had no objection. 
Dylan got the milking tube, slipped it over the cock and started the suction. The horse grunted as the tube sucked and caressed his sensitive flesh. Even with the suction’s stimulation the cock still seemed a little flaccid. With the tube now in place Dylan opened a box at the back of the stall, and pulled something out. It looked like an artillery shell with an electrical cord hanging off the back. Pete now realized that EJ wasn’t someone’s name, it was slang for electro-ejaculator.

Dylan placed a long plastic glove on his right arm and lubed it. He pressed his fist to the horse’s tail hole until it slipped in to his elbow. “You’re loose old timer, but EJ will fill ya up”. He pulled out of the ass, poured more lube into his cupped hand, and back inside it went. From the motion of his arm Pete could tell Dylan was spreading it around inside, and the horse’s moans made it obvious where. Dylan withdrew again and lubed the EJ. “Pete, in case you’re new to this, you don’t use plain lube with an EJ. You want a conductive jelly so you don’t get hot spots”.  Once it was well lubed he placed the tip at Clyde’s tail hole and slowly pushed it in. The horse grunted a few times as it slide home, but didn’t seem to be in any real discomfort. With the EJ in place Dylan returned to the box, set the power & pulse pattern and fired it up. The horse’s hands immediately gripped his harness as he jerked forward, but the look on his face was one of pure pleasure. The electric current played along his prostate, teasing and stimulating the sensitive organ there. The cock hanging below the horse began to rise as it stiffened. Clyde sucked in a deep breath and exclaimed “Oh God, that feels so good”.

“Yer all set Clyde. I’ll be back to check on you later” said Dylan leaving the stall. “Come on Pete. Shows over for now, it’ll take that geezers balls some time to warm up and start shooting”.
“Fuck you Dylan” Clyde said, but the tone in his voice was amused not angry.
“Love you too Clyde” Dylan replied, and laughed as he and Pete walked away.

Pete asked “What did Clyde mean when he said he just came from the Vet?”
Dylan smiled, “That would be Doc Smithson, he routinely tests everyone to be sure they’re drug & disease free, and healthy enough to be milked. Also he helps out the ones with production difficulties. A lot of the livestock refer to him as the Vet, and he doesn’t seem to mind. You’ll be meeting him in about an hour for your own checkup. Need to be sure your fit for work, and the insurance company needs a checkup before your medical benefits get setup”.

Dylan slowed to a stop as they approached the final few stalls.
“Pete this next one’s a little delicate. Hang back here and let me do the talking OK?” whispered Dylan. 
Pete nodded OK. The tone of Dylan voice and the disheartened look on his face told him this wasn’t expected to be pleasant.

Dylan walked up to the last stall. ”How you doing today Chester”? 
Pete heard a sad voice reply “same as usual I fear”.
“Chester, I have a newbie with me today, do you mind that he’s here?” 
The voice answered “no that’s OK” but it sounded timid and ashamed.

Dylan waved Pete over and when he walked up he that saw Chester was a bull. “Chester this is Pete”
Pete just nodded politely at the bull. The fur looked weary even though his body didn’t look so old. His stall was different from the others. Pete noticed the milking tube here didn’t rise to join the bundle on the ceiling. And the stall had a fixed model EJ, not a portable like the one Dylan used on Clyde.

Dylan went to check a collection container at the back of the stall. He shook his head sadly at the nearly empty vessel. All it contained was a bit of clear liquidly pre-cum. Dylan shut off the milker and the EJ, and began to pet the bulls back.

“I’m sorry old friend. You’ve been dry 30 consecutive days now, it’s time to retire”.
The bull craned his neck to look back at Dylan, “Are you sure, is there nothing left to try?” he asked.
“Yep, you know Doc said this was likely” said Dylan. He removed the milking tube, and the cock just hung limply in the air.

His fate confirmed, he hung his head in shame. His eyes glistened but he refused to let the tears fall. 
“You still OK with your retirement plan, sure it’s still what you want? It’s a one-way street you know”.
“Yes, given the way things are its likely the best course” the bull replied.
“Alright then, I’ll have Doc come by a little later to make the arguments. You just try to rest”.
Dylan started to remove the EJ …
“NO! Please don’t do that. I’ve gotten so used to it … I feel … empty when it’s not there”, the bull said and again hung his head in shame. This time the tears did flow.

Dylan slid the EJ back home, “Of course good buddy, whatever you want”.
He walked out of the stall and tugged Pete’s arm to get him going again.
Pete was disturbed by what he had just heard. Once out of earshot he asked “What the hell are you going to do to him? It sounded like you were going to … put him down” he whispered the last part.

Dylan recoiled in shock, “what? Hell no! Chester’s like family; he’s been here over 15 years. The lifer’s may love being treated like livestock, but there’s limits to how far we’ll let that fantasy go. No, he’s not being put down, or sent away. This is his home now; he can live here for as long as he wants. As for the Doc’s visit, well that’s easier to explain if I show you some of the other retiree’s”.

The pair had come to the end of the barn, and Dylan opened the door to the outside. When Pete stepped out he found himself next to a fenced in paddock. Dylan leaned against the fence looking in and Pete did the same. They stood there watching the livestock, six bulls and four horses that roamed inside. From their body language it was clear they were relaxed and happy. Most also appeared to be acting like feral’s and walking on all fours. 

“The retirees tend to socialize here during the day” explained Dylan. 
Pete noticed something was missing on some of them, “are they …”
“Castrated? Yep, every one of them” Dylan replied.
Astonished Pete asked, “Why would they agreed to that? “
“Medical reasons mostly. Firstly, all the lifers tend to push their bodies a bit too far. I hesitate to say they become addicted to being milked, but it’s probably close to the truth. Pushing your nuts that hard for that long comes with risks. Secondly, we found their happier without them. We used to make it optional, but the ones left intact became insecure about being impotent. Every one of them came back begging to be cut, so for their sake we just made it mandatory. Finally, there’s the Exclusivity clause in their contracts. They signed over ALL their cum to the farm, and this keeps them honest if their nuts ever started producing again”.
 
Pete was still a bit stunned but asked “So that’s what’s going to happen to Chester?”
Dylan chuckled, “That’s just the start, Chester wants the deluxe package. As I said everyone gets castrated, but the retirees have a couple of additional options – all of them free of course.

First, while castration is mandatory we do offer prosthetic testicals, but surprisingly few choose to get them. Second, most lifers need the EJ’s help during the last few years, and that carries its own risks. We don’t require it, but Doc strongly recommends a prostatectomy, that when they remove the prostate, due to likely complications”. Most lifers chose to have it taken out at the same time as their balls.
Finally, a few opt for changing genders, though most of them still refer to themselves as males. It’s usually the ones who can’t get erect anymore that opt for this. The Doc is great at making lady bits out of cocks, and he says a dickhead makes a fine, but giant, clit. This way instead of hanging limp and useless that sensitive bundle of nerves gets rubbed when their humped. Doc claims our cocks start out that way and he’s just reversing the process a little. That’s the option old Chester chose, poor fella doesn’t have an ounce of lead left in his pencil”.

 Pete jumped back in shock as something pushed into his groin. A cow had come over and nuzzled him.
“Betsy you slutty rascal leave the young’un alone! I don’t even know if he plays for yer team” shouted Dylan while making shooing gestures with his hand.
“You could argue I play for both teams these days” the cow said. Then it winked at them and added, ”besides from the hard bulge in his overalls it sure feels like he’s interested in playing”.

Pete’s face went crimson with embarrassment. He had found the farms retirement options disturbing. But he couldn’t deny they also made him highly aroused, and had conjured many lewd fantasies that were now playing in his head.

Dylan pointed to one of the horses “Git on now. Look there, old Oscar’s looking for a hole to fill, you just go and get some of that”. Betsy turned to walk over to the horse, and intentionally shook her rear end at them teasingly as she went. Pete noticed the faint surgical scars – this cow had been born a bull. He watched as Betsy caressed Oscar’s flank and turned to present herself. The gelding wasted no time mounting the cow, and plunging (prosthetic) balls deep. They mated wildly like feral’s adding their moo’s and whinny’s to the cacophony of the others.

Dylan chuckled, “That one is a right proper slut. I bet he’ll be jealous of Chester’s special request”.
Intrigued Pete asked “What did he request?”.
“To have his fur dyed to look like a Holstein. I can’t believe no one’s thought of it before.”, replied Dylan.

For a few minutes Pete just stood silently watching the retiree’s. Those who still had cocks would mount the others, whether they had cocks or not. No one seemed to mind or reject the advances of the others While the scene was erotically captivating his mind was distracted. He had something to tell Dylan but it made him uneasy. He worried it would cost him the job.

“Dylan, I don’t think I can be involved with Chester’s retirement … preparation’s” said Pete.
Dylan looked perplexed, “Why would you be involved, that’s the Doc job. Besides its done at his clinic not here on the farm. Speaking of the Doc, he’ll be ready for you soon so let’s finish up the tour.  The barn we just came out of is #1. With 60 stalls It’s my biggest, and as you saw its mostly used for bovines, equines and swine”. Dylan started down the dirt road toward 3 more barns. “Barn 2 has 40 stalls and is used for other domestics. Mostly canines and felines, but we get a fair share of bears and rabbits too. Barn 3 is for the exotics. Unlike the others it doesn’t have permanent stalls. The stall walls in there are moveable to create custom sizes, like for the elephant we had last month”.  Yep every species is welcome here, and we can find buyers for all of their cream.

They continued without entering those two barns and came to a stop in front of the final one.
“This one’s my newest venture. The operation is still small but I expect it will grow fast”.
Dylan opened the door and allowed Pete to enter before following him in. Inside Pete saw a dozen stalls although only three currently had occupants … but they were very special occupants – a tanuki, a unicorn and a dragon. Dylan continued down the aisle while Pete followed dumbstruck. “This barn is exclusively for Mythic’s, and here is where you’ll be working“ said Pete pointing to an unoccupied stall.

This shocked Pete out of his silence, “What are your talking about? I thought I was signing up to be a farmhand, not one of your … cows”. Pete realized the farmhand that told him about this job had left out a rather important detail. He also remembered he had been a bit of a joker, and he certainly gotten Pete good this time.

Dylan looked equally surprised, Pete had called him and said he was referred by a friend. Dylan had just assumed Pete knew what went on here. “A farmhand? No, the farms mostly automated I can run it alone. What I need are a variety of Mythic’s to milk”.

Pete suddenly remembered the contract he signed had a 6 month minimum term. He shook his head, “Look that’s not what I thought I was signing up for. I don’t want to end up like Chester!”

Dylan rubbed his chin, “Now it makes sense. When you asked to just watch me hookup Clyde you thought you should be offering to help right? And that’s also why you thought you would be involved with Chester’s preparations?”  Pete sheepishly nodded yes.

“Geez isn’t this a mix-up. OK Pete calm down. Look this was a misunderstanding on both sides. If you want out I’ll rip up the contract and you can go, no hard feelings. But what if we just alter the minimum term, would you be willing to try it out for a couple of weeks?”

Pete thought it over, the pay was incredible and all he needed to do was cum. Also all the livestock had seemed so happy. He found it a surprisingly tempting offer. “What about the risks, or ending up like Chester?” he asked.
Dylan smiled, “It takes years of milking and EJ use for those risk to become a concern. There’s no risks to short term standard milking”. 

“I can’t say I’m not tempted. I’m willing to give it an honest try, but if it’s not for me can I just leave?”
“Of course Pete, like I said no hard feelings. I’ll just pay you what I own, and off you go”.
“Alright Dylan, what do I have to do?”

“Thanks Pete, I really need you here. Just strip naked and put your clothes in the bag hanging on the wall. I’ll have them stored for you.  Pete did as Dylan asked. The bashful griffin tried, and failed, to hide his erection. Not wanting to make the situation more awkward for him Dylan pretended not to see it. “Great now lay in the harness the way you saw the others doing and I’ll adjust it to comfortably fit your body”. Once Pete was laying down Dylan adjusted the straps to support him while leaving his groin accessible. “How’s that, are you comfortable Pete?” Dylan asked, and the griffin nodded yes

“OK Pete, I’ll need to measure your fully erect cock to custom fit your milking tube. Then I’m going to milk you the old fashioned way to get a sample for the Doc. Once that’s done you’ll go see the Doc for your physical. If he clears you I’ll make your tube tonight and milking will start tomorrow. Any questions?” Too embarrassed to speak Pete just nodded no. The griffin’s body squirmed in the harness and his face burned with embarrassment as Dylan walked into the stall to get behind him, but even his embarrassment couldn’t affect his arousal. His ridged member twitched in anticipation, and a few clear drops of pre-cum had already dripped from the tip.

Dylan gave the griffin’s furry rump a pat, and playfully said “looks like at least one part of you is eager to work here”. Pete was sure if he got any redder from embarrassment he would spontaneously combust. Seeing the poor griffin squirm at his comment Dylan said “Sorry Pete, I didn’t mean to embarrass you”. The farmer began to slowly but firmly stroke the cock to ensure it was fully erect. The stimulation caused the griffin to shudder as he tried to stifle his moans. A puddle of pre-cum was already forming beneath him and soaking into the hay.

When Dylan felt the cock was full grown he pulled a soft vinyl tape measure from his pocket. He used it to measure the length of Pete’s cock, and its girth at multiple points. Then he picked up a sponge from a previously prepared bucket of soapy water, and cleaned the throbbing shaft. “OK Pete, I’m going to slip a collection sleeve over your cock, it will feel just like a long condom”. 

Dylan pulled the sleeve over the griffin’s cock and began to stroke again. With his other hand he started to fondle the griffins nuts, which made Pete moan even loader After several minutes of this effort Dylan realized that even though the griffin was highly aroused he had not yet cum, even worse the cock now seemed to be softening.

“Hey Pete, am I doing something wrong, aren’t you enjoying this?” Dylan asked.
“No it feels great but … I’m not sure how to say this … I think it was more intense when I was more embarrassed”, Pete admitted as he blushed and closed his eyes in shame. 

Dylan felt the cock stiffened a bit, and realized Pete got off on humiliation. Dylan chuckled and began speaking in a teasing tone of voice, “What’s wrong young’un? Doesn’t the slutty little griffin want to make squirties for Farmer Dylan?”. Pete heard one of the other Mythic’s begin to snicker at this, but with his eyes closed he couldn’t tell which one. The laughter combined with the words themselves hit Pete like a slap, smacking away what little pride he had left – and the cock in Dylan’s hand began to stiffen rapidly in response.

Dylan continued to fondle the ball sack, “Aw look at this cute little sack of pebbles. They’re so tiny compared to boulders on my little piggy. Would you love to feel his manly sack slapping against your own? Maybe if I feed you his piggy pudding yours might grow to be at least adequate”. Pete’s head hung down, his face burning with shame. He gave up trying to stifle his moans and let them free lustfully. This caused the Unicorn to whinny laughter in reply. His humiliation was immense – It was awful and it was wonderful. His body bucked in his harness as he instinctively tried to hump Dylan’s hand – and a budge began to form at the base of his cock.

It was obvious to Dylan the griffin was close to giving his sample. As he stroked he unexpectedly felt the root of the cock getting thicker, he looked down and was surprised to see a knot forming. “Hey you griffin boys have knot like us canines. Look how cute yours is, why it’s almost big enough for you to tie with a Cheerio.” The griffin shuddering violently and whined in lust & frustration. He could now hear all the other Mythic’s laughing at him from their stalls. The humiliation was driving him wild, but he just couldn’t seem to cum. 

Dylan could tell Pete was at the edge of release, so why didn’t he come? If it didn’t happen soon the orgasm and his sample might be ruined. He stroked a thumb over the griffin’s tail hole, “Aw maybe your little pebbles are still too young to cum, or maybe you need big Farmer Dylan to use your tail hole and show you what a big boys knot is like”.

Pete was in exquisite agony. The laughter and taunting drilled into the very essence of his being, and had set every nerve on edge. He never imagined a man could so desperately need to cum.

Then Dylan realized why Pete hadn’t cum, what a rookie mistake – he needed to stimulate the knot! The hand that had been stroking the tail hole clamped down firmly on the griffin’s knot, and began to squeeze it in rhythm with his other hands strokes. Pete squawked loudly as an orgasmic shockwave exploded through his body. His balls emptied themselves into the waiting sleeve, the cum shooting out with enough force to cause the sleeve to jump with each squirt. 

When the griffin finally ran dry Dylan sealed the sleeve and set it aside – it was a sizable sample. 
Then he quickly measured the knot before it could begin to shrink.
The griffin just hung limply in his harness, the only movement from his ragged breaths. 
Dylan got down on one knee next to Pete’s head, and began gently stroking the griffins neck. 
“Pete are you OK? Did I go too far? I didn’t offend you did I?”
The winded griffin slowly raised his head, and gave the dog a big lick on the cheek. 
Dylan was so surprised by the act that he fell over onto his ass – now it was his turn to be embarrassed as Pete giggled and the other Mythic’s laughed at him too. “Huh, seems I have another rascally slut on the farm” Dylan exclaimed, and everyone laughed again.

When the laughter died down Pete meekly said “Farmer Dylan, I think I’m going to like it here, but what if I need that kind of stimulation every time? You can’t always be around when I need to be milked”.

“Don’t you worry about that. I’ll find a way to make time” Dylan replied.
“And if he can’t we’ll help you out. You gave us quite the show”, came a voice from above him.
Pete looked up to see the dragons head peering over the stall wall
“We sure will” added the unicorn. 
Pete’s head snapped forward and he realized his stall was in full view of both the unicorn and tanuki.
“If he gets off on huge sacks wait until he gets a look at mine! Hell, his face looks like it’s just the right size and shape for me to rest it on” cried the tanuki between giggles.

Pete realized there would be no shortage of humiliation for him here. If the rest of his milking’s were half as good as that one, he might never want to leave the farm. He now understood how a male could become addicted to it.  Would he stay for 6 months? Absolutely he thought. What about a year, or 5, or 10, or 20? What would become of him? Would he become another Chester? He suspected the chances were high.

Pete’s eyes were full of hope and fear as he turned to gaze into Dylan’s. In a shaky voice he whispered to the farmer, “I think I will lose myself here and end up one of your lifers, what do your instincts tell you?” 

Dylan sighed, “It’s much too early to tell young’un. Usually by 6 months I got a good idea, and if they stay full time for a year it’s almost a guarantee. But yeah, I think you are. I’ve been doing this a long time, and my instincts say your cut from the lifer cloth. But if that’s what happens I promise you will have a happy life. Now let’s get you to the Doc for your checkup, so we can make it all official”.