Creamy Acres Courtship

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*Author note: One of the things I love best about writing is taking things that are conventional to a genre and then turning it upside down. Hucows are supposed to be constantly willing, but there's not a lot of talk about their lives outside of breeding and I wanted to flesh that part out a bit. What about hucows outside of breeding age? Could a hucow be dominant? Does it need to be so heteronormative because of the breeding? What does inclusivity look like here?

I'll write more about if there's interest shown through ratings, comments and follows! xo

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"All right," I glanced down at the paper work to remind myself what his name is. "Aiden. All your papers are in order and you are ready to get started! Do you have any questions for me?" I arrange my face to be pleasant while covertly glancing at my Apple Watch. 7,000 steps, not too shabby, I thought, pleased with myself. I'd hit 10,000 easy before I went home.

I still had two more new bulls to orient before I could head home to my cozy little cottage, kick off my heels, put on my most comfortable pjs and settle in to write for a bit and then sneak in some Great British Baking Show with my new favorite ice cream from Blossom, if I hit word count.

He stared at me for a moment, heat creeping up his cheeks while I tried not to roll my eyes. God, new bulls were always so obvious. Even the dumbest, newest breeding hucow could see that he was into me. New bulls always were, for some reason. His newly enlarged penis erected a whole palace under his kilt in my honor, forget a tent. I expertly ran through the list of names I always had at the ready to decide who I would pair him with. Occasionally, of course, there was an objection on one side or the other. That was to be expected. I'm a hucow, not a goddess. *Obviously* it was in everyone's best interests for the pair to be a good working pair. Mind you, it usually evolved (devolved?) into a romantic relationship as well, because I am very good at my job. Polyamorous usually. Hucows and hubulls rarely could manage monogamy, myself included. Who wanted that in this modern world? Certainly, not me.

The silence stretched on as he tried to keep his focus on my face. Gracie? No. She was still dickstruck over Ethan. Not to mention cuntstruck over Claire. I put a pin in them mentally. Would they become a throuple? Maybe. I wasn't ready to put money on it with my bestie, Zoe. Not yet. But maybe.

Could he be a match of one of our homegrown hucows? I was homegrown myself. Not for breeding specifically, of course I did way too well in my private school to be given such a low ball offer. That was mostly for new hucows or well, not every homegrown hucow and hubull was up for the task of higher learning. They wanted to have babies and be milked (one way or another!) and lie in the grass, watching clouds, making social media content or talking about human reality television. At least while they were still viablely breedable. Eventually, they'd help with the baby hucattle or pick up a farm based trade. Sometimes I envied them still, much like anyone would envy anyone taking an unchosen path to become a trophy wife or mother of six or a politician. It just seemed so...simple and easy.

But I am not a simple hucow, my mothers would crisply remind me on our FaceTime calls together. You were never raised to be a simple hucow, we wanted more for you.

They were never breeders either, though now retired, they mostly seemed interested in coming up with new ice cream flavors, going to pilates and playing mahjong with the other retired hucows. They were never terribly interested in hubulls when they were younger, let alone now. Though there will occasionally be some mixed pickle ball games with retired hubulls. And trivia nights. Non-binary and trans hucattle didn't really start happening until my generation, but there's plenty of room at the farm for everyone, they'd say comfortably, talking over each other on our calls.

MamaMolly always chimed in that I knew the community too well to turn my brain off with MamaLucy reminding me that I never had the desire to leave the dairy, like some of the younger hucattle do. My moms both encouraged me to explore the human world more but why would I? Nothing made sense there, that's why all of these humans were so eager to join the programs in our local farms. All farms are different from each other of course, but the basics are always the same. Our governing body always agreed there. Excellent childcare, amazing educational opportunities, delicious food, the best healthcare, an assortment of interesting ob opportunities, lovely housing and without all the hang ups that the human world seems so focused on. We understand civil rights, unlike a lot of the humans.

"Are you...do you...?" he started to ask shyly.

I sighed noisily. It's always the same thing with new hubulls. "Yes, I am a hucow. I was raised at the prestigious Milk Meadows and then I was asked to come here to Creamy Acres to help start this," I sighed again. Hucattle can never resist awful puns. "Moo-chelin star boutique dairy."

"May I call you Bes-"

"You may call me Dr. Swift," I said, more sharply than I intended. His handsome face looked stricken. I swear to god, these new bulls will be the death of me. I made my face soften slightly. "Or Dr. Elizabeth," I said grudgingly. His face immediately lit up. Ugh.

"Dr. Elizabeth, ma'am?"

I knew what he was gathering his courage for. How? Because they alllllll do. I wasn't worried of course. Hubulls go through vigorous testing for their mental health and agree to all of our consent policies. Failure to do so would find him tossed out on his ass back into the human world, missing quite a few inches. Thankfully, that hasn't happened since my grandmother's generation. The benefits to behaving are just too good not to. Usually, I have a canned speech for this. Yes, I know my skin is amazing. It comes from being home grown. But I am over forty, new bull [insert name here]. Not much, it's true, but I am. Which obviously does not make me breedable presently. Thank you for your for your consideration and not staring down my top this entire time and having the decency to look chastened about your new epic level hard on. Good bye!

But something about him made me pause. I don't know if he just smelled especially good and wholesome, like freshly mown wheat and sunshine (neither of which I've had much time to enjoy lately), I don't know if it's because he was in the peak of his fertility making him more than a decade younger than me and his youth was just so shiny and dewy and his back muscles rippled in the glow of the sunlight or what it was. I had seen six other bulls just like him already today. All of them smelled of youth and beauty with becoming back muscles. He had just a faint sheen of sweat on him. Maybe because he called me ma'am so earnestly? But I knew what it was. His light hazel green eyes and his midnight black hair. I've always been particularly thirsty for bulls with those characteristics. A bull who could take orders with a smile and still contain himself. Most bulls have trouble taking orders. It's not their fault, they have been made for virility more than sweetness or cleverness. Two other things I was powerfully weak for, since it was so rare in bulls.

I looked at him for a long moment. His eyes shone with hopefulness.

"Sit," I said firmly, pointing to the large velvet footstool. This would be the first test. He immediately dropped down onto the stool. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked down at the floor demurely.

Oh my. I haven't seen a bull do that since...well. Since Ezra.

I keep my eyes trained on him. He doesn't move a muscle. Unless we're counting his cock. The palace building expedition is still well under way on that front. He breathes, slowly and carefully. We stay this way for a long moment. What happens next will determine if I toss him into the general pool and possibly put him to work auditioning for Cleo and Abby and maybe Daisy or if...if I keep him as mine.

I click my intercom button to reach my executive assistant, Maisie. "Maisie, please reschedule the rest of my appointments for the afternoon?"

"Yes, Dr. Swift!" Maisie responded immediately. "I will also hold your calls and make sure you are not to be disturbed." I know Maisie knows what's happening. I know it will be the talk of the dairy for days. She is far too professional to ever indicate any of that out loud. I could however hear a tiny squee from her desk. I haven't even attempted to audition a bull since Ezra. I hadn't felt that pull.

I sit on the edge of my desk and part my legs ever so slightly. Just the tiniest bit. More than that would be too much for poor Aiden. I'm not wearing panties under my knee length pencil skirt. I'm not a human. Why they do that to themselves, I'll never understand. I pick up the cup of tea that Maisie had poured me right before Aiden arrived in my office and take a tiny sip.

"Why should I allow you to fuck me?" I asked bluntly. "You were hired for your breedability."

"I have my uses," he said, seemingly unruffled. "I came in to work for the dairy to manage your systems operations. I allowed my genetics to be tested because I believe in the larger mission statement of the organization, but I really passionately feel committed to *this* dairy's program. It would have been disingenuous to not go where I'm best suited. It wasn't what I was expecting, but I want to fill my most important purpose here."

"And what other uses do you have, hmm?"

"I've been told I'm decent with my hands," he said, grinning, unabashed. "And problem solving," he added. "Right now I'm trying to figure out how to solve the problem of you sitting all the way over there, away from me. And figuring out what you smell like. Cream of course. That's an easy note here. Almost not even worth measuring. But also like...pomegranate and something else."

I unbutton a few buttons on my top as he speaks, seeing if he will look up. While I am not a breeder myself, I do have lush, full, firm breasts that tend to distract new bulls. The curves of my ample hips and ass with the tautness of my belly are also very impressive for my age. At least according to the breeders. But those girls couldn't keep their grabby hands to themselves if their lives depended on it. His gaze remains steady on the floor. We've already had more of a conversation than I've had with a bull in ages. I slowly start to let down my long red hair from its perpetual messy bun getting it done state. I could feel the slow throb between my legs as my nipples became erect under my lacy nude custom made bra.

"Look at me," I commanded. He looked up, his light eyes darkening as he took me, his breath catching for a moment. The heat of his direct stare was intoxicating. How his big strong hands flexed for a brief moment, before he caught himself.

"I would just as soon as stare at the floor, if I may, ma'am?" He asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. "I'm...I'm not accustomed to all of these urges like this."

I hop off my desk and walk over to him, my tits are at his eye level. He chastely keeps his eyes to the floor. "What else do I smell like?" I asked curiously. He brings his eyes up to look at my face, but he gets lost in how close his face is to my breasts. He turns bright red and brings his eyes down to the floor again.

"You can look," I said invitingly. His eyes are drawn again to my lushness. I can't resist taunting him just a little bit. I run a hand lazily over both my breasts, plucking my own nipples to fullness. I could feel my vulva starting to become plump, a tiny trickle of excitement welling between my plush inner thighs.

"You smell like honey," he said finally. "I desperately want to touch you."

"Oh you want more than that," I croon. "You want to be thrusting that big new cock of yours inside me. You want to feel like what it's like to not have to worry about anything, just making yourself feel good."

"Yes," he admitted softly. "I do. But I want to service you more. I want to be used for your pleasure. I want to bring you coffee in bed in the morning. I want to read to you while you're in the bath. I want my pleasure to be something that you control for me."

I cup my breasts in my hands, massaging them the way I like. I could feel the sex flush creeping over them, making my tits a rosy pink and my nipples so hard it's painful. I brush my nipples teasingly across his mouth. There is naked longing on his face, but he will not allow himself to touch me until I've given him permission. He knows now this is a test. I straddle him on the foot stool, hiking up my pencil skirt, letting him feel my naked warmth over his kilt. He is hard enough to use his cock as a hammer and only becoming harder as my dampness soaks through his kilt. He pants and moans softly, his hands clasped behind his back. I ride him like this for a few moments, before the fabric becomes too rough for my sensitive clit. I flip up his kilt, not even asking if he wants me to. I know he does. I brush my soaking vulva against his bare cock and his hips thrust up desperately.

I place my lips against his ear and softly whisper, "You can't have me." He shudders beneath me, the tip of his cock becoming glossy as he strains desperately beneath me. I take him easily in both of my hands while still straddling him. I slowly stroke his urgent member, rubbing his glossiness to smooth the head of his cock with my hand. My hands glide over him and I pull him onto the floor with me.

I spread myself open and nestle the head of his cock against my pierced clit and eagerly take him in both hands, using him to pleasure myself. I am unapologetic as I rub his thickness in enticing circles against my clit, pressing hard against my piercing.

"It feels so good using you for what you're good for, baby," I murmur. He's breathing so hard now and I can feel how much he's focusing his willpower not to orgasm. "It must be so difficult knowing how easily you could have me right now but not being allowed." I can feel my own breathing increasing, teasing him like that. I shouldn't. But he's just so lovely and well behaved, I can't keep myself from running him hard like this. My thoughts are slowing and all I can think about is using him to get myself off. He hasn't laid one hand on me, though he is shuddering beneath me now, using all of his strength to keep himself in check. My pillowy thighs are beginning to tremble as I use his cock to stroke my clit against it. I'm building with pleasure as he flexes beneath my hand. My brain is suddenly all white light as I throb against him, my orgasmic primal moans overtaking me as I orgasm against him.

We are both trying to slow our breathing and he slowly and carefully takes my palm in his and turns it over and kisses it. My heart melts, as I momentarily forget that this is without explicit permission. He is still rock hard, but smiling so sweetly.

"Dr. Elizabeth? May I court you?"