The things Lewis did for a decent wage.
Though to be fair, working at Peachbottom Dairy wouldn't be the worst job in the world. He could have been mucking out stables or dragooned to working on the farm with his brothers, but Lewis had never enjoyed farm life that much. His was an intellect. He dreamed of becoming a student at the academy of Sorcere in the capital, but that required money, and the problem with working for family was 'minimum wage' was more a punchline than a guideline.
Still, as he sat across from Mary Peachbottom, Lewis wondered just what he was getting himself into.
Of course, he knew about holstaurs. One didn't work in the farming business without hearing about those bovine monster girls, but Mary was hardly what he expected. She just seemed so... professional. Her suit and jacket were pressed and neat, her glasses low and her hair combed back elegantly with a clip, her face beautiful but casually business-like.
For all this, there was no mistaking her race. The two stubby horns that poked up through her hair was the first guess, but if that didn't give her away, her bust surely did. Lewis knew a thing or two about women, but he had never met any with the sheer heft of Mary. Her breasts pushed her suit and jacket to the limit, casting a long shadow over the table like two moons rising over the horizon.
But it was the way her eyes scanned Lewis's resume over and over that made him fidget in his seat. Her expression could say anything, and her soft perfume reminded Lewis of summer days when the wildflowers were in full bloom.
"Lewis, was it?"
Lewis jumped. "Y-yes?"
"I see you've worked on a farm before. Your parent's? Good. Good. That will prove useful. Tell me," Mary said, peering over her glasses. "Have you ever worked with holstaurs before?"
"Er, no ma'am. Never. Our neighbours had some cows that we uh..."
He trailed off when he saw how Mary's expression had darkened. She put down his resume slowly, neatly, with all the deliberateness of a duelist drawing their sword.
"Lewis," she said, clasping her hands on the desk. "I do hope you understand that caring for the holstaurs at Peachbottom is very different from milking some cows at the local barn."
"Y-yes ma'am! I do."
"A holstaur is not some animal that is content to chew her cud and be milked," she continued as if he never spoke. "A holstaur is a woman like many others, only with a few additional... needs. Needs which you are to provide. Our girls require a thorough milking every day, and many of the machines which will be used require a seperate operator for safety reasons. Have you seen a holstaur, Lewis, who hasn't been milked? She is a desperate, needy creature. When her breasts are too heavy with cream, she can barely control herself!"
Lewis stared, soaking in her words, and extremely glad the desk hid his painful erection from Mary's view. "Y-yes ma'am. I understand completely. Absolutely."
She gave him a level look. "Is that so?" Mary said, rising from her seat. Lewis watched her round the desk, her hips slowly swinging, her form towering over him as she stood beside his chair and leaned over him, her breasts so close Lewis swore he could hear the cream within them slosh.
"If you have assisted with some cows, Lewis, as you claimed, then I can assume you know your way around a milking machine. But what if, Lewis, the machine isn't working? What would you do then?"
"Th-then?" Lewis said, struggling not to let his eyes drift down from her face and ogle her breasts. By the gods, he could fairly hear the fabric strain against her tits. "I uh... er... s-suppose I look for another machine?"
"Lewis," Mary said, planting a hand on the desk before him, leaning over him even more. Crowding him in his small chair. "I don't think you understand. When a holstaur is that desperate for a milking, she cannot wait. If she doesn't get milked immediately, she will find herself in great pain. Driven almost wild by her huge... heavy... breasts. So what would you do, Lewis?"
"I... I uh... I s-suppose I would um..." Lewis babbled, stress sending waves of heat through him. Unable to ignore the nearness of her. The beauty of her. The mature sexuality that rolled off her like her perfume. "I'd uh... have to do it by... hand?"
Mary lifted a perfectly manicured brow. "Is that right?" she said, and for the first time a look of satisfaction was on her face. "Good, Lewis. That's precisely what I wanted to hear."
"It... it is?"
"Yes," Mary said. "After all, we need a man who's willing to get hands on with the girls at the dairy. Not someone necessarily with intelligence. Any dumb boy could work the pumps for us. But we are looking for someone who can understand the... needs of our girls. Who'll take the initiative to satisfy them."
