Milk-A-Mare

It takes a nearly an hour for you to clean all of the batpony arousal off of your machine. Fifteen minutes of that was just you trying to get it out of the suction cup. You’re not sure what it is about batpony juice, but it’s stickier than sin when it begins to dry.

Placing the washed suction cup back onto the end of the tube, you connect the long plastic hose back up to the machine. With that complete, the machine is clean and your work is finally finished.

You straighten up and run a hand through your hair as you stretch. Wiping your hands clean on an old rag, you toss it onto the disintegrating couch. A cloud of dust flies into the air, reminding you that you haven’t dusted the house yet; cleaning your machine distracted you from your original task.

You run your finger over the mantle and glance at it, only to grimace and quickly wipe it off on your pants.

“It’s worse than I thought,” you mutter. This is shaping up to be an all day job. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust, and it looks like it's going to take you a long, long time to clean all of it.

And you are already almost out of rags.

“Need to pick up more rags next time I’m in town,” you say, scratching your chin absentmindedly. You look around, trying to figure out where the best place to start would be, when your stomach growls loudly. It is now late in the morning—the sun having risen high in the sky while you were cleaning your machine—and the coffee you had on the train ride over just wasn’t cutting it. You need some food. Unfortunately, you didn't pack any before leaving the castle. That was another thing you had to buy went you went into town.

Speaking of which, what time was it? Maybe some of the stores and stalls were open now. You look around for a clock, only to realize that there isn't one to be found amongst the dust. Adding it to the ever-growing list of things you needed to buy, you move to place the milking machine back into the crate.

You take a step forward, reaching out to pick up your machine, but pause when a faint noise reaches your ear.

"IIIIIIIIINCOMING!!!"

CRASH

Something gray and moving at incredible speed suddenly crashes through the bay window, sending pieces of wood and glass flying in every direction. The only thing that prevents you from being diced up like a pineapple for a cocktail is the fact that all glass in Equestria is safety glass; it prevents pegasi from being injured should they crash through it (like with what is happening right now). Still, you throw your arms up in front of your face all the same as dull pieces of glass and wood shower down upon you. You let out a ~~girly shriek~~ manly cry as the room descending into chaos. There’s an explosion of air as the gray blur flies past you, missing your leg by inches. It ricochets around the room before crashing into the couch in an explosion of dust, stuffing, and feathers.

Slowly, you stop screaming and lower your arms, glancing around at the carnage. Dust and gray feathers drift through the air, illuminated in the sunlight that was now streaming in through the gaping hole where the window used to be. The walls have several new holes in them, as well as the ceiling.

And there, splayed out in the middle of the remains of the destroyed couch, is the source of all the destruction. It’s a gray pegasus mare. She is lying on her back with her wide flank in the air. She blinks dazedly before gazing up at you with large, golden eyes.

Well, one eye looks at you. The other stares at the fireplace.

The mare continues to stare up at you for several seconds, giving you a blank look, before a large smile spread across her muzzle.

“Hiya!” she chirped, her blonde tail wagging back and forth.

You give the mare a bemused look. “Hello…?”

“Mail delivery!”

“Mail?” you say, blinking in surprise. “But I haven’t even been here for half-a-day. How could I have mail?”

“I saw you walking through town earlier this morning with a large crate,” the mare continued with a grin. “You know, Ponyville Express could help you transport packages with ease, with little to no hassle on your part!”

“Ponyville Express?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “What is that?”

“It’s the local courier service!” the mare says, her smile growing. “Rain or snow or sleet or hail, our couriers shall never fail. Land or air or rock or sea, nothing will halt our delivery! My name is Ditzy Doo and I’m in charge of the delivery and shipping branch.”

Wiggling around, she flips herself over and gets to her hooves, flapping her wings a couple of times. Dust flies into the air, causing her to sneeze, her crooked eyes straightening out for a brief moment before returning to their original orientation.

Now that she’s standing, you can see the blue mailman cap perched on her head, as well as the mail bag draped across her shoulder. As you watch, she proceeds to dust herself off, pieces of safety glass falling out from between her feathers.

“Is it normal to make such a… dramatic entrance?” you ask, glancing at your destroyed window. Not that it is any worse than it had been before hand. At least there is now a small breeze blowing in, getting some air circulation into the dusty house. Still, it was another thing you had to fix now. The list just keeps on growing.

Ditzy glances at the hole as well, and a small blush touches her cheeks. She rubs the back of her head with a hoof.

“Um… sorry about that,” she titters. “I’m usually a good flyer, despite my eyes, but I’m a little weighed down this morning.”

“Lots of packages today?” you ask, eyeing her bag. It doesn't look very full.

She shakes her head, her blush deepening. “No, nothing like that. It’s just, well…” She trails off, fidgeting slightly before suddenly turning sideways and lifting one of her hind legs.

Your eyes widen as you catch sight of her breast. They are hanging low, and are clearly filled with milk.

“I’m flying a little full this morning,” she explains, not meeting your gaze. She keeps her leg raised as she speaks, balancing on three legs and using her wings to stabilize herself. “The pony who usually helps out with this sort of thing moved to Trottingham last week, and none of us have really gotten used to handling it by ourselves.”

You try and listen to her as she speaks, but your eyes are fixated on her swollen breasts. Having helped Gleaming with the same problem for a couple of months now, you can easily tell that Ditzy was full; small beads of milk collect on the tips of her grayish-blue nipples. You’re amazed she can walk, let alone fly right now.

Oblivious to your staring, Ditzy continues to talk. “I was going to have my friend Berry Punch take care of it yesterday, but forgot, so I’m stopping by after work and seeing if she can help me out—”

“Got fifty-five bits?” you ask suddenly, interrupting her.

Ditzy lowers her legs, blinking up at you like an owl, her ears perked. “...I'm sorry?”

“Do you have fifty-five bits?” you ask again. “If you do, I can help you out with your problem.”

Ditzy stares at you before glancing down between her legs, only to return her gaze back up at you, a look of stunned awe on her face.

“Fifty-five bits?” she asks as if she couldn't believe her ears. “Really? Milky always charged one-hundred-and-fifty bits for her services!”

“Fifty-five bits per milking,” you nodded, a smirk spreading across your face, “and you get something special out of it as well.”

Ditzy closes one of her eyes, the other narrowing. “How long does it take?”

“You’ll be out of here in under twenty minutes,” you promise, “or your money back!”

Ditzy continues to stare up at you for several more seconds, nibbling on her bottom lip, before she opened both eyes. A large smile spread across her face.

“Deal!” she chirps. Dipping her head down, she rummages around in her mailbag for a few seconds before pulling out a bag of bits in her mouth. She holds it out for you, smiling around the bag, and you take it in your hands. Opening the drawstrings, you quickly count out the right amount before handing her back the remainder of her money. As she slips her purse back into the mailbag, you move over to your machine.

“Alright, ma’am, if you’d come right this way,” you say, indicating a spot on the floor clean of debris and dust.

Ditzy does as you ask, slipping her mailbag off of her shoulders. She eyes the machine nervously as she moves into position. “This won’t hurt, will it?”

“Not at all,” you say with a chuckle. “In fact, you might find this rather enjoyable.” The machine begins to whir quietly as you turn it on, the gears and motors springing to life. Picking up the teat cups, you breathe on them to warm them up.

Ditzy watches you out of the corner of her eye, shifting nervously as you approach.

You crouch down beside her, eyeing her teats.

“Ready?” you ask, glancing up at her. When she gives you a hum of confirmation, you lean forward and slip a suction cup over one of her teats. It immediately latched on and began to pulling on the nipple.

Ditzy jerks forward as the cup begins to tug on her teat, kicking her hind legs weakly.

“Oh… OH!” she gasps, her eyes widening.

You attach the second cup, causing the mailmare to jump again. Once both cups are secure and in place, you adjust one of the knobs on the machine, causing the suction to increase.

“Oooooooh~” Ditzy moans softly, her legs trembling. Her wings are flared by her side, the mailman’s cap askew on her head. She swishes her tail back and forth before hiking it up.

“Oh, this is much better than Milky’s technique,” she groans, closing her eyes. “It reminds me of when Dinky was a foal.”

You say nothing. You just watch as milk begins to flow steadily down the plastic tubes towards the container on the machine. It’s tinted a slight yellow, indicating that there is more fat in it than usual.

As the cups continued to pull and suck upon Ditzy’s teats, her breasts slowly begin to shrink. She squirms in place, moaning and panting quietly. Her back hooves knead into the floor as her tail raises higher. A musky aroma begins to fill the air. The scent causes a reaction in your pants, which suddenly feel too small. Looks like you’re going to be spending some private time with yourself before heading out to do those errands.

Keeping a close eye on the pressure and the speed of the milking, you fail to notice Ditzy beginning to move. You jump a little when her muzzle bumps into your stomach, and upon glancing down, you see that her eyes are locked onto your groin and her nostrils are flared.

“Mmmm, you’re helping me,” she mutters, panting weakly. “Let me help you.” With that, she reaches out and grabs the top of your pants in her teeth.

You move to stop her, but she bats your hands away with a stiff wing. It was a halfhearted attempt anyways.

As she pulls your pants down, your member suddenly springs forth, starling her. She stares at it in awe and confusion for a brief moment before squinting one of her eyes to get a better look. A few seconds later, she leans forward and tentatively sniffs the base of your member, causing it to twitch as hot air blows over it.

Your hand still on the machine’s controls, you dial up the suction, causing another blast of hot air to wash across your member as Ditzy gasps. Shaking her head, she licks her lips before kissing your member, sliding her lips up the shaft to the tip. There she pauses, her open eye regarding the head of your member with rapt attention.

Pulling back, she opens both eyes and blinks slowly as she continues to stare at the tip of your member.

You groan softly at the sudden absence of attention before glancing down in confusion.

“It looks like a muffin top,” Ditzy breaths. She stares intently at the tip of your member, drool slowly beginning to gather in the corners of her mouth.

“Wha—” you start to say, but your breath leaves you in a sudden ‘whoosh’ as Ditzy darts forward and swallows your entire length in one swift movement. You jump as you feel yourself suddenly engulfed in the mare’s mouth.

Ditzy grunts, the tip of her muzzle pressed against your stomach. You can feel her tongue running along the bottom of your cock, gently lapping against your sensitive flesh. She pulls back a few inches, and you grit your teeth as her throat tugs on the tip of your member. When you were halfway out of her mouth, she pauses for a brief second to take a breath before pushing herself back down to the base.

She continues at a steady pace, the feeling of her mouth causing your toes to clench. Every time you entered her throat, she would swallow, causing a tugging sensation that nearly caused you to blow your load each time.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you try and distract yourself from the wonderful blowjob you are receiving. You fumble with the milking machine’s controls, and increases the suction to maximum. The teat cups begin to tug on Ditzy’s nipples at a frenzied pace. By now, her breasts were empty of milk, all of it having passed through the tubes and into the container. However, that didn't matter, and Ditzy groaned loudly, causing your cock to vibrate.

Pulling back, she laps at the head of your member with her tongue. She glances up at your face, her golden eyes dulled over with lust. Keeping her gaze locked with yours, she bobs her head up and down on your length, suckling upon it.

This proves to be too much for you.

“Oh shit,” you grunt, closing your eyes tight.

Ditzy, sensing what’s coming, pushes her muzzle all the way down your member, engulfing you completely.

As the head of your member enters the back of her throat, you blow your load. With stars exploding in front of your eyes, you feel around the control panel of your machine, searching. Just as Ditzy begins to swallow, you find what you were looking for. A quick flick of the switch, and the mechanisms in the teat cups whirl to life.

Ditzy’s eyes shoot wide open—going from cross-eyed to completely straight—and she squeals loudly around your cock as the teat cups begin to vibrate wildly. Legs stiff, her tail suddenly flags high as a clear liquid dribbles down her hind legs. Her eyes roll back into her head as she continues to guzzle down your seed.

As you slowly come down from your high, you flick the power button on the machine, turning it off. The teat cups, now inactive, slip from Ditzy’s drained nipples and clatter noisily to the floor, a small trickle of milk leaking out of them.

Ditzy pulls her head back, your member falling limply from her mouth with a soft ‘pop’. She staggers backwards, her legs trembling.

“Oh, I can feel my heartbeat in my little nub,” she gasps, flapping her wings weakly. “It’s been awhile since somepony has scratched my itch. My eyes seem to turn stallions away. Thank you.”

“At Anon’s Milk-a-Mare, we aim to please,” you pant, leaning against your machine, your pants still around your ankles.

“If this is how you treat all your customers, I might have to pay you another visit,” Ditzy says, slipping her mailbag over her head. “Not only was that fun, but this is the emptiest I’ve been since Dinky was still nursing.” She straightens out her mailman cap before giving you a warm smile.

“Sorry to buck and run, but I have to get back to my route. These packages won't delivery themselves!” she nickers. Her wings flare wide and with a mighty flap, she’s out the hole in the wall and airborne.

Heart rate slowly returning to normal, you push yourself up, off of your machine. Pulling your pants up, you eye the full container of milk.

“What am I going to do with you?” you ask nobody in particular. You didn't pack any of your bottles when you fled Canterlot, so you had nothing to put the milk in at the moment. With a sigh, you shake your head Guess that’s another thing to add to the list.

Having finished with the milking, and having taken care of Lil’ Anon, you turn around to continue dusting, but pause when something catches your eye. Sitting on the floor, in a patch of floor cleared of dust because of Ditzy’s wings, was a muffin. A chocolate-chip muffin. You stare at it for a few seconds before a smile touches your lips.

“I guess a little breakfast won’t hurt,” you say. Your stomach growls in agreement. Picking up the muffin, you pull the wrapper off and take a bite. Instantly, flavor explodes in your mouth.

As you chew happily, you unscrew the top of the machine’s milk container. It's almost completely full of milk, the white liquid coming up to nearly the rim. Leaning in, you take a sip of the sweet milk inside. Milk dribbles down your chin as you contemplate the taste

“Yup, definitely above average with the fat,” you say as you take another bite of the muffin. "Probably just above whole milk. Maybe... 5% fat?"

As you sit back and enjoy your impromptu breakfast, the basement door slowly creaks open and a head pokes out. Tufted ears twitch as the batpony glances over at you nervously, her white mane falling in front of one of her eyes. She swallows, ears splaying sideways.

“C-can I come out now?”