Unprotected Zombie Dairy: A BDSM Menage Page 9

  “Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this communication device?” Swinea crosses her arms over her chest and juts forward her bottom jaw pouting.

  Why does Bella have a milking machine? She’s no longer a hucow. She’s fully human now. Why would she need to be milked? I think, trying to make sense of the secrets the two hupig brats are revealing. Her need to be milked must have something to do with the candy. But, I’m confused. I’ve never witnessed Bella lactate since she was returned to the farm as a human three years ago.

  The hupigs and I race inside the elevator, and I nod toward my two companions, in question.

  “Third floor,” the pouting Swinea huffs. I push the third-floor elevator button with a single shaky finger.

  “It’s not fair,” the young hupig stomps one crystal studded sandal on the marble elevator floor. “You two don’t tell me anything. It’s like you don’t trust me.

  “We can’t trust you,” Pigletta grumbles. “You know you’re incapable of keeping a secret, baby,” Pigletta grabs and pulls her redheaded bride in for a kiss, but Swinea turns her head away as their pregnant bellies bump together.

  I clear my throat and dip my head down low, trying to stay out of their lover’s quarrel. I don’t want to be drawn into their drama. I’ve got plenty of issues of my own to deal with. The most pressing of which is how to warn Bella and Hamma of the trap they’re walking into.

  The ground is unsteady beneath my feet as the elevator shakes and settles at the third-floor landing. Pigletta grunts as she pushes past me, forcefully knocking me to the side. My breasts slam against the side of the elevator, and I wince as my milk sprays out, coating the wall.

  No, not again, I bemoan. My milky tits are two of my greatest treasures. But, relieving my breasts of their creamy bounty can be inconvenient at times. Crap. My tits are already bursting full with sweet cream and need to be pumped dry again. Damn this. I want to rescue everyone. But, until I relieve myself of the milky load filling up my bosom, I’m in no condition to rescue anyone.

  Chapter 16

  Magnus

  ‘Daisy! Daisy!’

  I continue to shout the name of the woman we both love inside Flavi’s head. It’s my only weapon to keep his thoughts from penetrating my mind. He’s mentally strong. Strong enough to overcome my defenses, if I allow him to. Curse this mental link the zombies are building between our two minds. And damn every scientist to hell who had anything to do with creating the zombie scourge.

  I don’t give a flying fuck if Flavi finds out about my master plan. He’s going to learn all about it soon enough. But, I can’t risk him fighting me for dominance. For us to survive this battle with the zombies, he’s got to relinquish his control to me.

  My best friend Flavi is a headstrong farmer, an ultimate alpha male. He’s not going to just give up his power and let me take the lead. I’ll have to rip his dominance from him.

  He’ll fight me hard. But, if we two are to survive, I’ll have to fight harder.

  From the way he’s struggling against our growing mental link, I can tell he’s going to battle me for dominance with all his strength. I can feel through our physical and psychological connection that he’s at his physical peak. He’s as powerful as ever. His grip on my fingers burns hot into my flesh. The massively chiseled muscles of his arm are bulging big with use. Even though I am the larger man, subduing this Adonis will be one of the greatest challenges of my life.

  I’ll break my best friend. I’ll tear the man’s body apart to gain control over him and our developing mental link. I’ll dominate his body. He must learn the facts of what will become his future life. I’m the true alpha male here. And I will train him to submit to me. Make him be willing to follow my plan.

  When I finally overtake him, I’ll become his farmer. I’ll be the man he’s bound to obey. It’s the way things always should have stood between us. I’ve been too lenient with him. For too long I’ve allowed him to dominate me while he pursues his lust for power. That domination ends today. I am the one true farmer, and he is my right-hand man – my head hubull—and my soon to be husband. With our future shared wives Daisy and Bella between us, we will make the most powerful foursome.

  ‘Daisy!’ I scream to distract Flavi.

  My thighs clench with anticipated agony as a group of zombies rush toward us bearing their bright green teeth. I lock the soles of my feet to the cold concrete ground, steeling myself as I stare into the bright blue glowing orbs of the zombies’ eyes. The owners of which, intend to inflict great suffering on both Flavi and me.

  In seconds, they are upon us. First comes the hot suction. Then the piercing pain of teeth penetrating flesh overtakes my senses. Finally, the agony of the biting and ripping into skin just about overwhelms me.

  The zombies are draining our life force again, trying to break us. I want to scream and curse as I fight off these devourers of our flesh. It takes every shred of willpower I own not to use the raw power stored in every muscle of my body to fight back.

  In my mind, I picture myself ripping their ravenous mouths off Flavi and me. I break us free of our restraints, and we escape this torture unharmed. In my mental fantasy, that’s the way I use my brute strength to save us.

  I scowl downward as the zombie consuming my essence releases her teeth from my flesh. “Yum. You taste delicious. You’re a meal fit for a queen.” She smiles up at me. A wide green and red toothy grin stretches across her face before she dips her head again to tear her teeth back into my tender organ.

  This is my opportunity to strike. Moving swiftly, I separate my aching legs, cementing my connection to the ground and enhancing the power in my core. Quickly, I grasp Favi’s hand tighter, securing it firmly in place.

  Sorry bud, but this is going to hurt.

  Crack! I snap two of his fingers like twigs. He screams out his suffering as his hand convulses against mine in torment. He wails loudly then huffs and pants.

  Once I’ve done my cruel work of fracturing his bones, I loosen my grip on his fingers. I would completely release his spasming hand if I could, but the way the zombies have bound our fingers together make it impossible. My victim shouts something incomprehensible inside his mind. Yet, he turns his head and smiles at me, attempting to hide his anguish.

  He thinks I’ve gone mad with pain. He’s the one suffering, but he’s still trying to give me some of his strength. Fuck yeah. The man’s strong. He’s a brick wall. My brick wall. Choosing him as my best friend all those years ago was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. This man can survive anything. With him at my side, we will win this battle against our enemies.

  Good. The zombie minions see Flavi’s injury. A group of them are rushing toward us. They won’t allow him to suffer for long.

  Hold on buddy. They’ll heal you soon.

  The head zombie, the one who reports to the queen, ordered the minions not to kill us. So, every time I injure Flavi, the mindless worker zombies stop draining our life force and switch modes. They heal both him and me.

  Flavi and I have the advantage over these hive minds, because of our continued ability to reason. We can still make choices that make sense, unlike these mindless minions. These zombies aren’t going about their work of breaking us in an intelligent manner. They are supposed to be maintaining us alive, but they keep injuring us. They injure us during the draining of our life forces. Then they injure us again when they shove the feeding tubes down our throats.

  They seem to be content to damage us. But, whenever I break Flavi’s fingers they grow furious. When I injure my companion, it sends them into a hot rage. They growl and hiss. Then a group of them come rushing over to repair us.

  I glance over at Flavi. These zombies need to hurry up and heal him. He’s lost a significant amount of blood and the man’s looking pale. I don’t like to see him this way. He’s visibly suffering in excruciating pain. And from the nonsense he’s shouting inside our heads, it’s clear to me he’s losing the struggle to hold on to w
hat’s left of his show of bravado.

  Hold on Flavi.

  Finally, teeth release from my companion’s flesh. The zombies have stopped draining us prematurely. Soon they’ll re-insert the feeding tubes again. In a few minutes, Flavi and I will both be choking down zombie milk. The milk will repair our bodies and we’ll grow stronger than ever. Another one or two more rounds of this torture and I estimate our muscles will build up enough strength for us to be able to bust our way out of this prison.

  Every time the zombies consume our life fluids, I feel my mental link with Flavi deepen. If I allowed the zombies to drain us as much as they’d like to, I’m certain both Flavi’s and my brain would eventually turn to complete mush. We’d become just as dimwitted as the zombies who are torturing us. By injuring Flavi and cutting short the draining process, I’m acting to preserve the integrity of our minds. I’m rescuing us.

  Flavi screams something incomprehensible inside my head again.

  ‘Daisy! I love you!’ I shout back in an attempt to distract him from his pain. It’s best he focus on his guilt for what he knows are his many betrayals of our friendship. I can’t allow him to know I don’t hold any of his actions against him. He needs his guilt. His mental anguish is something better for him to focus on. This physical pain is too great a burden for him to bear.

  Fuck Magnus, stop lying. You hold everything Flavi did against him. The mental pain you’re inflicting on him is torturous. For all you know, it may be worse than the physical torment he’s enduring. Yes, you’re helping to distract him from experiencing the agony of his broken fingers. But, you’re torturing him too. Stop lying to yourself. You may be rescuing your best friend. But you’re making him suffer while you do it.

  I hate to admit to any weakness, but my best friend has wounded me. And I’d be lying if I denied wanting to make him suffer for it.

  When he stole Daisy, Flavi knew he was stealing someone precious from me. She was my dearest treasure. She was the reason I woke every morning and took breath. I was so enamored with her bright spirit and unassuming beauty that I spent every second I could in her arms. Drinking from her breasts, pleasuring her lithe body and laughing at her rebellious bad girl antics were my daily bread. I needed no other nourishment. Flavi knew Daisy was my world, yet he stole her from me anyway.

  My best friend took my woman for himself. It was the ultimate betrayal. He behaved just like one of the powerful Sky Mountain elitists we both despise. He abused his position as the all-powerful farmer. He was the leader everyone on our farm was bound to follow and obey. And he used my respect for him and his position as the dominant male against me. He trusted me to maintain my honor and to submit to his orders by not fighting him when he stole away the woman I loved.

  On moral ground, I have every right to be furiously angry with my best friend. But, legally I have no business complaining about his actions. It was his legal right to do what he did. He wanted Daisy, so he claimed her. With how powerfully he’s lusted for both her and Bella all these years, I must concede the man showed great restraint in not claiming both women as his wives sooner.

  A farmer has the right to take any woman he wants — if she’ll have him. It’s the law. For hundreds of years, it’s been the cornerstone of our society. The dominant, most powerful men attract and claim the strongest, most desirable women. They breed. Society benefits.

  And as much as I want to, I can’t lay all the blame for Daisy’s disappearance from my life at Flavi’s feet. I’m also at fault. I used her as my personal fuck toy, even though she was the woman I wanted to share my life with. I never spoke words of devotion to her once while we were making love. I refused to share with her my deep feeling.

  I fell prey to my desire to impress her with my prowess. I would have been wise to secure her love by asking her to be my wife years ago. But, my pride needed to show her I was capable of making her the queen of the grandest farming estate in all of the rolling hills and valleys. I wanted to honor my intentions for us as a couple by waiting until I’d finished building my grand farming estate to start wooing her. I behaved like a damned fool.

  Perhaps if I’d told her how much I loved and admired her back then, she wouldn’t have fallen so willingly into my best friend’s arms.

  Back then, Daisy was a rebellious fighter who never obeyed anyone. When Flavi ordered her to stay put inside her barn for her own safety, I recall laughing at what I thought was his ridiculous action of ordering her confinement.

  By sundown, I was certain she would stride out of her barn and back inside my stable. We would make love and snicker about how foolish Flavi had been to try and steal her away from me. Our physical connection was so powerful; I was convinced nothing could separate us. I was certain Daisy would make a public declaration of which man she desired most. And I was certain that man would be me.

  But, I was wrong. My best friend was clearly the strong man she chose to cling to. Daisy, the woman who obeyed no one, incomprehensibly turned obedient. She willingly stepped inside the gilded cage Flavi ordered her into. She remained there of her own volition.

  If she had even once chosen to leave her barn or its garden-like outdoor courtyard, I would have fought for her. I would have exercised my legal right to challenge Flavi for the privilege of claiming her body and her heart for myself. I would have destroyed him. Not even my brotherly bond with my best friend would have kept me from taking back the woman I loved.

  But, Daisy’s desire for Flavi was stronger than her desire for me. She stayed inside her barn, and remained there willingly for over two years. She allowed her farmer to pleasure her. And from what I’m learning from Flavi’s thoughts, she finally allowed him to breed her today. His baby is probably growing inside her belly right now.

  Damn him. Damn her. Damn me.

  No. I won’t dishonor myself by raging against Daisy’s choices. She has the right to love whomever she chooses. But, every strained and painfully bulging muscle in my body is furious with her for choosing Flavi over me.

  Chapter 17

  Daisy

  “How dare you two betray us!”

  All I can do is shout at our attackers. I’m helpless to defend Swinea, Pigletta, or myself. I clench and unclench one aching fist and watch as my two hupig companions’ hands and feet are tied securely to chairs in the corner of the room. I’m still suspended in mid-air inside Bella’s milking machine.

  The plastic lined metal bowls covering my breasts continue their sucking work of draining my tits of their creamy bounty as I attempt to wriggle free of my restraints. But even though I struggle to gain my freedom, I know it’s no use.

  This milking machine has been designed for safety. No amount of rocking or struggling on my part will release me from its secure grasp. The metal cage of the milking machine clanks as I throw my body up against it. My nipples tingle and the pillows of my breasts squeeze between the pump walls as my milk sprays into the milk collection jugs.

  “How ‘bout a taste of milk, sis?”

  “I’ll pass.” Sarah, our human captor, finishes securing Swinea’s hands to her chair then reaches up to tousle the top of her short platinum blond locks. “These two aren’t going anywhere.”

  Decimus, the young hubull, bends down and grabs a hold of the tube draining my cream into the milk collection jug. He lifts the long hose to his mouth and chugs down gulp after gulp of my sweet cream.

  “Damn. You’re a mighty fine tasting woman, Laura. I’ve always wondered what you taste like. Now I know.”

  At first fear and confusion grip my chest at hearing my old human name. Then red hot anger burns over the entire surface of my body. How does this betrayer of our farm know my old name? Curse him for calling me by a title I’d rather forget. I had no part in the choosing of that name. And I have no desire to suffer through a new set of taunts involving its use.

  At hucow training, I was given the opportunity to choose a new name. I chose to be called Daisy. I chose a name befitting my status as a fine heifer and
a proud producer of bountiful quantities of sweet cream. I will never be the weak and often abused Laura again. I choose to be Daisy. I am the proud hucow Daisy, now and forever.

  “My name is Daisy!” I shout in fury.

  “No. Your cow-slave name is Daisy. Your real name is Laura,” my male captor barks. “You are Laura Smalls, and we are liberating you from your servitude here on the farm—”

  “My name is Daisy!” I shout again with determination.

  “Call yourself whatever you want,” my female kidnapper says while striding up to my milking machine. I have to strain my head upwards to look her in the eye. “What my overly dramatic brother is trying to tell you is you are coming with us. We will be delivering you into the hands of the zombie hucow queen—”

  “The queen’s got big plans for you, tasty,” the young hubull says, smacking his lips then dropping the milking machine’s drainage tube on the ground, allowing my precious milk to waste onto the floor.

  “The Sky Mountain elite won’t be drinking any of that milk,” he snarks as he steps one booted foot into the pool of my milk, causing the cream to splash up his leg. Then the brutish hubull laughs as he lifts one steel tipped boot and kicks over the milk jug, sending all my sweet cream spilling onto the ground.

  “Damn it! We could have sold that milk and made a fortune.” The blonde’s face contorts into a scowl. “Stop fucking around and unstrap the hucow. We’ve got to deliver her to the zombie city before sundown.”

  Swinea and Pigletta sit in the corner of the room in complete silence. Both hupigs remain restrained in their plush leather chairs, completely unmoving. I watch as both women observe the argument between our two captors with narrowed-eyes and tightly closed lips. The only motions visible from their direction are the fresh trickles of blood dripping down the center of Pigletta’s cheek and from one corner of Swinea’s lips.