mr. milk man (Patreon)

synopsis: instead of getting a boob job, you take an experimental product - but you get a lot more than you bargained for when instead of just growing boobs, you get a tail too! good thing your coworker is here to help! and, uh, thirsty too!

pairing: coworker x cow hybrid!reader

wc: 3.3k

content: mdni, SMUT, porn with plot, HEAVY LACTATION KINK, fem reader, guys this is a weird one if you are not into getting your nipples sucked this one probably is not for you!, breast expansion technically, big boobs + tail transformation, hybrid stuff is lightly touched on, MILKING, man who loves to drink milk okay, nipple sucking, nipple play, kissing, confession, mutual pining, boss/employee relationship but reader is the boss, lowk medical exam kink, gloved fingers, oral sex (f! receiving), unprotected piv sex, pulling out

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Working at a sketchy pharmaceutical company had its ups and downs. 

Mostly downs. 

But for as good as the health insurance was, you didn’t think it would help with your current…predicament. 

What the hell were you supposed to do when testing out the newest product your team had been working on turned you into a cow hybrid? 

All you wanted was to go up a cup size. Maybe two. 

You weren’t that greedy. 

Okay, well just greedy enough that you couldn’t wait for it to finish going through human trials and decided to be a test subject yourself. 

It was supposed to be revolutionary. 

A way to increase your bust size with none of the risks that came with going through surgery. 

Instead, you were grumbling and gritting your teeth while arguing with your colleagues over just how much cow hormones they had pumped into the product? 

“I didn’t approve-” You protested, but your managerial position didn’t seem to carry the same weight with your subordinates when your button-up was threatening to burst with each exasperated exhale. 

“You wanted results,” your employee pointed out, his cool hazel eyes drifting down to the not-so-subtle swell of your chest with an arched eyebrow. Amused by this, despite the neutral line of his lips and casual recline of his back, leaning against the leather chair in your office like he expected to end up here. 

“Our customers aren’t going to be particularly pleased if they think they’re getting bigger breasts and end up with a tail too,” you huffed at him, shifting uncomfortably in your own fancy seat. You supposed there were worse things that could’ve changed. 

But a tail wagging behind you and milk leaking from your nipples was not how this was supposed to go. 

“I can’t take this to market,” you added, jaw locking as he slid a new folder across your desk. 

“We’re working on a reformulation, but-” 

“But what?” You impatiently huffed, cheeks heating up as you tried to think of how you were still going to get this product out on time and get a team working on reversing the effects of the batch you took. 

“It’s going to take time,” he calmly said, refusing to react as you flipped through the documents in the folder, frowning harder at the projected dates provided. 

God, the higher ups were so going to fire you. 

Well, actually, considering that there were laws in place meant to protect hybrids in the work space, you supposed that your position might be safe. But hopefully, you wouldn’t be like this forever, right? 

This was still fixable. There might not be anyone else to blame, but perhaps if you hired another intern or two, it could speed things up in the lab. 

“If I get you another-” 

“The last thing I need is someone whose hand I have to hold and train,” he wryly insisted. 

You scowled at him. 

But it was hard to feel serious when you had two huge fucking milkbags barely contained in your bra, your back aching and straining to stay upright as you squirmed at his stare. 

“Fine,” you breathed. “What do you suggest then?” 

“If you let us work-” 

“I already tried that,” you grimaced at him, gesturing to yourself even though it wasn’t really fair.

It wasn’t his fault you were a fucking idiot for trying it. 

“I told you it wasn’t ready,” he oh-so-unhelpfully reminded you, cocking his head to the side as his gaze drifted once again down to your breasts. You couldn’t tell if it was clinical or curious. 

“How was I supposed to approve something without making sure it was safe?” It was a poor excuse. One he obviously didn’t buy. 

“Isn’t that what human trials are for?” He sarcastically asked, and you didn’t have a good argument there. 

You were watching him, eyes flicking from the folder to his stoic face, attempting to come up with something that would make you sound intelligent after you had done something so spectacularly stupid. 

But his eyes were still locked onto your tits, your mouth falling open at how focused he seemed. 

“You’re staring,” you commented, tempted to cover up but also embarrassingly turned on by how shamelessly he was watching you.

“You’re leaking.” 

Jesus Christ.

Your hands flew up to cover the growing damp spots on your shirt as he made no move to get up or out of your office.

“Shit,” you cursed, the heat in your cheeks matching the warmth in your core as you realized you somehow managed to leak through not only your bra, but your shirt too, the sweet smell of milk wafting up as your nipples rubbed uncomfortably against your now-wet bra. 

“I have a sweater at my desk,” he offered. 

“That would be appreciated,” you swallowed hard, your voice strained and stiff as you cursed yourself for embarrassing yourself in front of him, of all people. 

It wasn’t that you had a crush on him.

Okay, well, you couldn’t have a crush on your subordinate. But he was so professional, put-together, with pretty hazel eyes that always seemed to find you on the elevator every morning. He even brought you coffee a couple times. Left snacks from the vending machine on your desk when he noticed you were too busy to take breaks. 

And before this project, you thought you were on rather friendly terms. Or well, maybe a little more than friendly. You almost asked him out a couple times. Had a handful of moments where you were sure he was about to do the same before you were interrupted or someone strolled into the break room. But the stress of getting this out on time, the pressure from the higher ups had made you snappy lately. 

Bratty. 

“I can ask some of my team to work on reversing the changes,” he paused, returning to the subject at hand,  frown lines etched into his skin as he cleared his throat, “But it would take longer-” 

“I understand,” you swallowed hard, your new tail twitching underneath you. Unused to these new sensations, struggling to get accustomed to the way it moved almost independently of you, how your body kept betraying you. 

“If we knew exactly what side effects you were experiencing, it would help,” he added. 

“So what, you want to examine me?” You were being sarcastic. Kind of. 

Throwing out an offer half-heartedly disguised as disdain for your situation. 

But then he curtly nodded, “Yes.” 

And half an hour later, you were in one of the rooms reserved for the clinicians to perform check-ups on trial patients. Stripped down to a cheap papery gown, your breasts still leaking and leaving damp spots on it, beads of milk running down your chest as he went through a checklist of questions regarding your…changes. 

Technically, it would be more appropriate if someone else was doing this, but you were more comfortable with him compared to anyone else here.

“Would you mind taking that off for me?” He asked, setting the clipboard and pen down on the counter before gesturing to your gown. 

You almost asked if you had to. 

You could barely look at yourself in the mirror these days. But you still made yourself peel it off, fingers trembling as he assessed you. He slipped on a pair of latex gloves, your breath hitching when a finger traced over a few moles, asking if they were new or old, if any had grown in size.

He said that he’d get someone to draw blood samples after this, send them off to be analyzed. 

You numbly nodded along, teetering on the precipice of whining when his hands traveled to your breast.

“If you’re uncomfortable,” he began, probably about to offer for a female coworker to come in instead. 

“Keep going,” you half-whispered, partially wanting to get it over with and also more than a little turned on by his touch. The barely there separation between his skin and yours. The last barrier of professionalism. 

You wondered if it was all in your head. 

Asking yourself if the tension you could swear was thick in the air as simply your imagination as his hazel eyes hesitated over your engorged tits, still steadily leaking, the damp sensation it left on your skin driving you almost as crazy as he was. 

He brushed a gloved finger over your peaked nipples, brows drawn together as a contemplative hum slipped from his barely parted lips.

Could he file for a harassment suit if you pointed out that he was looking at them like he wanted to wrap his mouth around one? 

Well, if you were going to get sacked, you might as well find a good reason for it.“Do you want to taste me?” You asked, your voice barely audible in the cold room as his hand froze in place. 

“That’s hardly appropriate,” he pointed out.

“That’s not a no,” you countered, arching up a brow. 

His chiseled features hardening for a second as his stare slowly shifted upwards to lock onto yours, attempting to judge if you were serious or if you were just fucking around. 

“If you don’t want to, it’s-” 

Before you could say fine, before you could tell him to just forget about it, his hands were drifting down to your sides to hold your waist in place as he squatted down to do exactly what he did in your latest maladaptive daydreams. 

Carefully placing his mouth over a nipple, his hazel eyes focused entirely on your face to measure your reaction as he began to suck. 

Relief was all you could taste. 

Your breath caught in your throat as he drank from you, one hand trailing up to squeeze your tit, to force more milk out of it, working out a clogged duct as you stifled a whimper. It shouldn’t feel so sensual, but it was the way his blond lashes fluttered, how his canines carefully skimmed at the edge of your areola, how he lowered himself just for this, for you.

And when he pulled away, you were resisting every urge and instinct to grab his hair and guide him right back. 

“The taste is,” he paused to suck the other one, this one long and hard as his teeth slowly grazed over your ultra-sensitive nipple. His free hand slipped around to your back as it arched into him, pulling you in as he drank from you again. He almost moaned when he finally pulled off with a lewd pop, milk dribbling from the corner of his mouth that he didn’t wipe away. “Sweeter than I anticipated.” 

“Did you think I’d be sour?” You teasingly asked, trying to keep your embarrassment at bay as his lips subtly curved up. 

“No,” he nonchalantly replied, and it only hit you then that he must have been thinking about the way you tasted before this. 

Before you could admit that you weren’t entirely displeased with things ending up here, he was returning to your breasts. Emboldened by your taste, or your teasing, drinking a little more eagerly, fingers squishing and squeezing your swollen tits.

Interesting way to test your milk output. 

You didn’t mind. 

And only when he had sufficiently drained you dry did he stop, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth as he stared at you. 

“Still hungry?” Your mouth moved on its own, hanging open afterwards, surprised that you actually said it. 

But he just smirked, casually humming as he stood up, “Starving.” 

You sorta thought today was going to be terrible. 

That confronting him about this would just deepen the divide in your currently terse working relationship. 

You certainly never imagined he would be on his knees tasting your pussy when you both should be on your lunch break, your thighs spread apart on the exam table while he explored you inside and out. 

His nose rubbing deliciously right up against your clit as that talented tongue of his swirled around thoughtfully, splitting your resolve to be a good boss straight through the middle, unable to remember what HR rules were about dating coworkers or employees when this felt so fucking amazing. 

How were you supposed to say no when you were already crying yes? 

Fingers curling in his shiny golden strands, pushing them back from his face as he made sure you were thoroughly soaked, spit and slick leaking down your thighs as he groaned into you. 

“You locked the door, r-right?” You asked, throwing your head back as he drew out another whine from some feral thing you didn’t know you had inside you. Desperate and pitchy, a plea in itself for him to keep going. 

“Of course,” he quickly replied, pulling away from your pussy as you whimpered your disappointment. 

Only vaguely grateful that no one would be able to walk in on the two of you, distracted by the way he was unzipping his slacks, but rather than immediately tugging them down, he flipped you around effortlessly. 

But even if you were laying on your stomach, you still craned your head back to see what exactly he was packing underneath his white lab coat. 

He was all broad shoulders and deceptively well-built muscles he kept hidden. He didn’t fully take off his shirt, just popped a few buttons undone before pulling his pants and underwear down enough to free his cock. 

Your mouth watered. 

And more embarrassingly, your breasts leaked. 

Drip-dripping onto the crinkling paper beneath you as he climbed on top of you, the hefty weight of his cock resting on your ass as he hummed. It sounded like approval. It was surprisingly hard not to giggle at the strange intimacy of it all as you shifted around, glancing over your shoulder as he flicked your tail. 

“Does it not-” 

You were about to ask if it bothered him. If he found it ugly or unattractive. 

“It’s cute,” he said, refusing to let you say something bad about yourself. “I like it.” 

He sounded so assured, confidence you envied automatically. You wondered what he would do if he woke up a hybrid. You pictured him as a dog one, with a hole cut out of his lab coat for a fluffy tail, pointed ears sticking up through his hair and a stern frown still glued to his face. 

“You really don’t mind?” You questioned, your throat constricting a little.

“Why would I?” He scoffed, angling his cock right against your entrance. “I like you.” 

You didn’t get the opportunity to return his confession. 

He pushed the first few inches in, no stretch needed when you were so thoroughly soaked, your words morphing into a desperate moan as his mouth latched onto your shoulder blade. His kiss was messier than you expected. 

Wasn’t neat or polite, no, it was all teeth and tongue. Leaving damp streaks across your skin as he worked his way up to your throat, splintering your brain into a thousand pieces as the rest of his cock slipped inside, sparking a craving you couldn’t deny. 

Abruptly aware of how empty you’d been without him, immediately needy every moment he slipped out, aching to suck him in and never spit him back out. 

“F-fuck,” you hissed, clawing straight through the paper as his free hand grabbed your hair and pulled it back just hard enough to steal all the air from your lungs. Turning your head with just his grip on you, his mouth crashing into yours to silence your cry. 

He fucked you like he’d been thinking about it forever.

Each thrust was precise, purposeful. Fucking into you nice and slow, making sure to rub against all the right spots. 

Your breasts were bouncing with each slam of his hips into you, the hefty weight of them making your back begin to ache without the support of a bra. But then his other arm was there, pushing them up from your underbust. 

He let go of your hair, but he didn’t stop kissing you. 

No, his tongue artfully traced over your teeth, sucking softly on your lower lip until he had to pause to breathe. 

“Would you fire me if I said I’ve thought about taking you like this before?” He asked, his usually firm voice faltering for once. 

“As long as you don’t report me to HR,” you jokingly replied, nervousness creeping in before he let out a low chuckle. Amusement glinting in those pretty hazel eyes as his swollen tip rubbed right up below your womb, rendering you speechless once again. 

God, why the hell hadn’t you just asked him up before?

Why did it take you literally turning into a cow just to get here? 

You looked back, watching his neat blond hair fall in his face as the arm around you shifted so his fingers could toy with a sensitive nipple, dragging over the milk leaking out to draw a line down to your stomach to where your neglected clit was waiting. 

He was still wearing the gloves.

You didn’t know how you were going to sit across from him in meetings without thinking about this. Without reliving every throb of his cock, every ounce of pleasure pumping through you as he ruined you for any other man. 

And then his damp fingers dragged over that sensitive bud, the friction from the latex dissolving the last of your control, and you weren’t thinking at all. No longer functioning as he fucked you well-past dumb. Drool dribbling from the corner of your mouth as his thick cock stretched you open, some invisible string inside yourself snapping hard and fast. 

You think you said his name, but it was a blur, your head fuzzy and fevered as he soothed you through the peak of it, pushing, pushing, pushing until you felt like a puddle under him. Nothing more than a mess, pleasure rolling through you in warm waves, knocking you off your feet every time you tried to pull yourself together. 

He pulled out at the last second, something sticky splattering onto your back, the sound of his fist stroking his cock ringing in your ears under the constant buzz of the fluorescents above. 

“Fuck,” he gasped, the sound thick and gravelly. 

You had never actually heard him curse before, a funny flicker of pride soaring through you and lifting you up even higher – even if the constant drips of your own milk onto the wrinkled and wet paper below was threatening to bring you back down to earth and remind you of the reality of your situation. 

Even if you finally got to fuck him, you weren’t any closer to getting back to normal. 

Not that he seemed to mind you like this.

Still, he noticed your deflation, the way your shoulders slumped as you awkwardly tried to keep your body off the ripped and soaked parchment below both of you on the table. 

“Something wrong?” He asked, brushing your hair off the nape of your neck. 

“Can you be honest with me?” You questioned, shivering at his simple touch. 

“Sure,” he said, resuming his usual serious tone as he got off of you, helping you sit back up on the mostly-dry portion at the edge of the table. You suddenly felt self-conscious, covering up your chest as you squirmed uncomfortably.

“How long do you think it’ll take for you guys to, well, fix me?” 

Hopefully gazing up into his hazel eyes just for him to squint back at you, almost taken aback by your question. 

Like you didn’t need to be fixed. 

“I think the size rather suits you,” he commented, tugging your arm down to gently lift each up before you huffed and frowned at his hand.

“You’re just saying that,” you swallowed hard, belatedly realizing how easily he avoided your question. 

“Who do you think left the product out for you to take?” 

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a/n: i feel like this company is definitely a division of the one from the tentacle bf and cat hybrid reader one LMFAOOOOOO