“I can’t get over the color,” said Twilight, eyeing up the tall glass the server set in front of Pinkie Pie. “I don’t drink a lot of blue things. And... does it really taste like cotton candy?”
“It totally does!” said Pinkie, dropping a straw into her glass. “I mean, not local cotton candy. It’s flavored more like Manehattan-style cotton candy. Easy choice if you’re going for broad appeal, I guess. Wanna try it?”
Twilight was skeptical that there was such a thing as regional cotton candy flavors. But if anyone would be an authority on that, it’d be Pinkie Pie.
“Sure, I’ll take a taste,” said Twilight. She dropped her straw into Pinkie’s glass of blue milk and took a small tentative sip. She let the sweetness sit on her tongue for a moment, then she swallowed. “That is good,” she said, turning to the server behind the counter. “but I think I’m going to go with the plain milk.”
The server, a young mare with cream-colored skin and bouncy red curls, nodded and walked off to fill Twilight’s order. Pinkie Pie, however, wasn’t as pleased with Twilight’s choice. “Boo!” she jeered. “At least get chocolate! Never order plain anything!”
“I know, I know,” said Twilight, as the server set her glass down in front of her. “There’s just something about the flavor of this milk, all on its own! It’s not like any other milk I’ve had. I’ve tried to figure out where they get it, but they’re not talking…”
The milk bar’s front door swung open, ringing the tiny bell that hung above it. Twilight and Pinkie glanced in the direction of the sound and spotted a pony in a long black trenchcoat, with a black fedora pulled down over her eyes. The mare moved like a shadow, passing silently between the tables, knocking furtively at an inconspicuous door - and then disappearing into the milk bar’s back room.
“So… that was Rarity, right?” said Pinkie Pie.
“It was absolutely Rarity,” said Twilight. “I think she was trying to be inconspicuous, but… that was the most fashionable trenchcoat I’ve ever seen.”
“What’s she doing in the back room?” asked Pinkie.
“Beats me,” said Twilight. “Maybe she’s an investor in the milk bar? Or part owner? She’s already running a successful business, it wouldn’t be the strangest thing if she branched out. I’m not sure why she’d be keeping it a secret, though; this place has been a huge overnight success.”
“Uh-huh,” said Pinkie Pie. She took a long pull of her sweet blue milk, then looked at Twilight with a naughty little smirk. “And… she was all covered up, but did it seem to you like she had huge boobies under there?”
Twilight blushed. Of course she'd noticed that. Every customer in the milk bar had turned to look at the “mysterious” mare, and every single one had been captivated by the sight of the jiggling G-cups under her trenchcoat. Rarity didn’t have a bust like that… but Twilight couldn’t deny what she saw.
Twilight shrugged. “Well, that’s her business, I guess…”
She raised her glass of milk - pure, white, ice-cold milk - and took a long, satisfying gulp.
Rarity pressed her back against the door, her heart pounding in her chest. She supposed it was only a matter of time before her closest friends began frequenting Ponyville’s new milk bar. Ever since the bar first opened, business had been skyrocketing - a process that Rarity had been observing with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. Of course her friends would go there, and of course they’d like it. And inevitably, one of these weeks, her friends would be sitting at the counter, drinking milk, when she came in for one of her “sessions.”
Well. Perhaps they hadn’t recognized her.
She had bigger things to worry about, in any case. Her aching, heavy chest was a very big thing, and it was her main concern at the moment. Fortunately the bar’s owner, Jersey Pump, had been ready and waiting for her. Rarity wanted to spend as little time as possible in the public eye when she was… in this condition… so she was relieved that he’d been there to let her into the back room promptly. The room itself was rather ordinary; it had shelves with big packs of straws and napkins, and a little desk where Jersey kept the milk bar’s books. It also had another door - one that led deeper into the building…
“Welcome back, miss,” said Jersey Pump. He had a regional accent similar to Applejack’s, and a gentle tone that helped to soothe Rarity’s nerves. “Got everything set up for ya, we’re ready to go.”
Rarity gave Jersey a relieved smile. Around him, she could relax a bit; he knew her secret, and he kept it. She was lucky to have found a pony of such professionalism and discretion as her “business partner.” Of course, his silence was good for both of them; Rarity made him a lot of money, with a service that only she could provide.
He was a perfect gentleman, too, and not a bad-looking one at that. His brown coat and mane were unassuming, but he had a handsome face and a pair of strong arms. Even if their relationship was strictly business, Rarity didn’t mind working with a good-looking stallion like him.
“Thank you, darling,” said Rarity. “I don’t know if it shows, but I’m awfully desperate to get this process started.”
Jersey nodded and opened the room’s back door. Rarity followed him into the true heart of the Milk Bar’s operation: a cavernous room with a thirty-foot ceiling and a concrete floor. From the outside, no one would suspect that this building and the Milk Bar were even related; they just looked like two adjacent structures that had little in common architecturally. If it were widely known that this room was part of the Bar, it would raise questions that Rarity wasn’t prepared to answer.
Jersey locked the door behind them. “All right, miss,” he said, and walked towards the control panel in one corner of the wide room.
Rarity appreciated that Jersey had something to do besides looking at her. There was no room for modesty in this line of work, of course; he’d seen everything over the course of their previous sessions, and he would probably see plenty today. Still, it felt better not to have any eyes on her as she unbuttoned her trenchcoat and pulled it open -
Rarity had only intended to sigh with relief when she opened her coat. But as her tits billowed out - bouncing, sloshing, expanding - she groaned loudly in pleasure. As soon as they were free, the G-cups beneath her coat grew into vast, wobbling pillows of flesh. Her snow-white breasts were twice as wide as her shoulders and hung down to her waist, with little rivulets of milk running down their ample curves.
Of course, there was no way she could have hidden this colossal bust beneath an ordinary trenchcoat. Rarity knew a thing or two about enchantments - although most of her garments were magic-free - and she had a few spells that she occasionally found helpful. Enchantments that emphasized curves were some of the most requested by customers of Carousel Boutique… but it was also possible to reduce the appearance of certain physical assets. Rarity’s trenchcoat would have reduced an actual set of G-cups down to a perfectly flat chest. In the case of Rarity’s immense, milky knockers, the enchantment had just enough power to make them merely look huge.
She hadn’t quite been nude underneath her coat, but she certainly hadn’t been wearing much. A pair of panties down below, and a bra up top - a bra that, incredibly, surrounded Rarity’s colossal boobs.
The bra wasn’t originally fitted to a bust of that size, of course; if it had been, it would have been the size of a hammock. It was another article of magic clothing, with another popular enchantment upon it: no matter how large she grew, it would fit and support her chest.
Apart from its size, the bra had another eye-catching property: it was white, patterned with even black splotches. A cow print, in other words. Her panties bore the same pattern, as well as an additional flourish: a black-and-white cow’s tail.
(They also sported a feature that a casual observer might not have noticed, as it was quite literally overshadowed by her gigantic bosom. But a close inspection would reveal that the crotch of her panties was open - and that her pink pussy was already glistening with arousal.)
Rarity put her hands underneath her breasts, feeling their weight. By Celestia, these things were heavy - and even the slightest motion made them audibly slosh. She ran her palms over the cups of her bra, feeling up the furry texture of the cow-patterned fabric. Under her breath, too low for Jersey to hear on the opposite side of the room, she whispered to herself: “Moo.”
When she first made the cow-patterned bra and panties, she thought of it as just a little joke at her own expense. But after her first time wearing them, she discovered that she couldn’t get them out of her head. She’d begun to wear them in private, between her sessions at the milk bar - and whenever she touched herself, she couldn’t help but think of herself as a cow. Not the graceful, refined fashionista her friends and fans knew… but a bigmilky cow.
Rarity reached around to the tips of her breasts - which wasn’t easy, given their size - and gingerly removed the velcro-sealed caps that covered her nipples. Despite her caution, she inadvertently brushed her fingers across her sensitive nipples - triggering a shock of pleasure that went from her nipples down to her marehood. Her pussy juice trickled down her thighs - and a few thin spurts of fresh milk shot from each of her nipples.
“Oh dear,” said Rarity. “I had better get myself settled in, I am terribly close to bursting.”
She hurried to the far end of the room, wincing each time her breasts bounced and sent another shudder of pleasure through her body. Milk squirted from her jiggling mounds as she jogged over to the equipment at the other end of the room, leaving a trail of little white puddles in her wake.
Finally she arrived at her spot - a low, padded bench that she could lay her torso across so that her gigantic tits rested comfortably on the ground. “Ahh,” she sighed, freed from the burden of carrying her own bust. “Jersey, dear, I am ready to be hooked up…”
Jersey left the control panel and approached Rarity, checking the connections of hoses as he passed the rows of milk tanks on the far wall. There were forty-eight tanks lining the wall from the floor to the ceiling, all empty, all connected through the same system of hoses. Rarity didn’t know the first thing about the milking machines; that was Jersey’s department. Rarity’s role was vital, but a lot less technical. She was the cow - so her job was to lay on her chest, let Jersey put the cups over her fat pink nipples, and wait for the vacuum seal to attach them securely to her skin.
“All right, yer good to go, miss,” said Jersey. “I’ll flip the switch on my way out and, er, give you yer privacy.”
“Thank you, Jersey,” said Rarity. “As always, you are a lifesaver.”
True to his word, Jersey flicked the “ON” switch on the control panel before he left Rarity alone in the milking room. The machine hummed to life gradually, a smooth whirring that became a whoosh as the device began sucking in earnest. At first, the machine was barely getting anything - it was just sucking up whatever milk dripped from Rarity’s aching nipples. Her tits needed a little something, just a spark, to really get them started.
Rarity was in the habit of not touching her breasts. If she gave them too much attention - even when they were compressed by her enchanted clothing - then they’d begin to leak and it was very difficult to get them to stop. Especially when she was getting close to her weekly session with the milk machine. On a couple occasions she’d had to sprint to the milk bar, tits leaking milk beneath her trenchcoat, just barely making it to the milking room before things got really out of hand.
But she was hooked up to the milking machine now. Now, it was the right time for things to get out of hand. Rarity pressed her hands into the soft flesh of her tits, sinking her fingers deep into the surface and kneading it with growing passion. These breasts were such a burden, such a strange, shameful secret… but also a source of such tremendous pleasure. Keeping her hands off them was such a maddening task, especially when they began to grow huge and heavy with warm, sloshing milk. Since yesterday, she’d been on the verge of losing control - and so now it only took a few seconds of massaging to get them to begin expressing milk.
If you tried to guess at the milk capacity of Rarity’s breasts from a purely anatomical perspective - by beginning with the amount of milk in an average mare’s milk glands and then extrapolating based on Rarity’s immense bust size - then your estimate would fall far short of the reality. Her nipples, once stimulated, became gushing hoses of milk, filling up the suction cups over her breasts before the powerful suction drew it away to the rows of tanks. And as soon as the suction cups were emptied, Rarity’s tits filled them up again. Gallons of warm, white milk flowed out of her, coming faster with each gush.
And it felt wondrous. She spent each week cursing her inconveniently large breasts, growing angrier with them as they swelled larger and filled up with milk. But when she came in to be milked - when she was finally able to release all that pent-up fluid - she became instantly certain that it was all worth it. Nothing else in the world felt like this. Nothing else brought her this kind of pleasure. She lived for this release.
And it wasn’t just her breasts that felt good. Rarity’s pussy - already slick when she entered the milking room - was now pouring with fluid. Left to itself, her marehood would work itself to an explosive climax, simply from the pleasure of being milked.
But there was no harm in helping it along. Rarity snuck her hand down beneath her tits, past her soft white thighs, until her fingertips touched the glistening pink of her marehood. Her hips shuddered at her own touch, and she struggled to hold herself steady as she plunged her fingers deeper. The suction on her nipples and the powerful flow of milk already had her on the verge of climax, and it took very little to push herself over the edge; just a brief moment of self-exploration would soon lead to something explosive.
“Moooo,” Rarity moaned, as fluid ran down her busy fingers. “Moooo.” It was a silly little bit of roleplay, consisting of nothing more than a meaningless animal sound, but it was so powerfully arousing to Rarity. The sound emptied her mind, turning her into a beast of the field whose only purpose was to be milked. There were no thoughts in her head - just endless pleasure as the machines sucked and sucked at her massive milky tits.
Rarity’s thoughts returned to the Milk Bar’s front room, where Twilight Sparkle and Pinkie Pie had been enjoying tall glasses of milk. Her milk. The same milk that was flowing gallon by gallon from her giant pink nipples, the same milk that was flowing through the long hoses and sloshing around in the tall storage tanks. Even as she’d rushed through the bar, trying to avoid meeting the eyes of her friends, she saw the glasses of milk the two of them had been drinking. Right at this moment, they were probably taking big hearty gulps of her milk, letting out satisfied sighs as the cool, nutritious drink filled their bellies.
What would they say if they knew where the milk came from? What would they think of Rarity if they saw her like this? Surely, their opinion of her would shift completely. They’d never again think of her as a refined, professional mare. They’d know her for her true self: a mindless, big-titted cow whose only purpose in life was producing milk.
Once her friends found her out, she would have no choice but to live her life as a cow. They’d never let her keep up the facade; they would force her to wear nothing but her cow-print bra and panties, so that everyone would know what she really was. Her huge milkers would be out in the open, growing bigger day by day, sloshing and leaking. If she tried to speak - to say anything besides “Moooo” - they’d give her boobs a good solid smack. Soon, she would forget everything but the pleasure of being milked… and her friends would enjoy her milk every day, drinking straight from her tits until they’d all had their fill.
Rarity’s fantasy got her past the precipice, and she came. Pussy juice flowed from her marehood like a faucet, drenching her fingers and pooling on the concrete floor beneath her. But it was her nipples that truly overflowed, filling the suction cups with sloshing milk and forcing the milking machine to pump harder to compensate. The device hummed louder, the tanks rattled as milk filled them to capacity, and Rarity Mooooed into the empty space as her pussy clenched and released in powerful waves of pleasure.
As her climax faded into a tingly afterglow and the flow of milk slowed, Rarity let out a long, happy sigh. That had been wonderful - but it wasn’t over.
Rarity’s “condition” didn’t just manifest as swelling breasts that filled with improbable quantities of milk. Her magical affliction caused her body to aggressively defy its own physical limits, growing huge and becoming a living fountain of nourishment. But something inside her demanded to push past still greater limits - to become more mare, and create more milk, enough to satisfy the thirst of her whole community. Was this just another way that Rarity embodied the element of generosity? She couldn’t say…
All Rarity knew was this: once she’d climaxed, and her nipples had released that immense burst of milk… the process entered something that she thought of as “phase two.” The milking machine was somewhat programmable, capable of automatically responding to certain conditions - and so the machine also knew it was time for phase two. It thrummed louder as the vacuum ramped up - and for a moment, the suction cups pulled at her tits with painful force. She winced, crying out - but the pain turned to pleasure as the dam burst all over again.
Milk burst from her nipples, the flow ten times as powerful as before. With the suction turned up, the machine was able to keep pace with her output - but the tanks were filling up at incredible speed. One by one, the meters on the tall metal tanks shot from zero to one hundred percent; at this rate, every tank in the room would be full in a matter of minutes. And since her immense breasts and unthinkable milk production already defied logic, who was to say she couldn’t keep it up that long?
But Rarity’s body wasn’t content to simply maintain this level of production; it wanted to be greater in every sense of the word. And so, as she knelt on the concrete, Rarity began to grow. Not just her tits, but every part of her. And it wasn’t like the gradual swelling she experienced between milking; with every passing second, she gained another inch of height. Her legs grew longer, her hips grew wider, and her head crept toward the high ceiling of the cavernous milking room.
And her breasts, if anything, were growing a bit faster than the rest of her. Her cow-patterned bra, enchanted to grow along with her expanding bust, still hugged her sloshing bosom. The suction cups on her nipples also grew larger, still holding tight to her skin and pumping at full power.
At ten feet tall, Rarity could have stood up, knocked down the wall of the milking room, and strode through Ponyville as a giantess, an awe-inspiring goddess of womanhood. But she didn’t want to be a goddess. She wanted to be a cow. An animal. A horny beast, reveling in her own pleasure, utterly at the mercy of the machine that sucked at her tits and pumped her milk.
Rarity moooed again, her voice breaking as pleasure pounded at her senses. Her fingers were deep inside her pussy again, but she barely needed them down there; the pumps on her nipples did more than fingers ever could. By the time she hit fifteen feet of height, and her nipples were outputting five gallons of milk every second, Rarity started cumming and didn’t stop. The intense suction, and the immense relief of unburdening her breasts, resulted in an ongoing, sustained orgasm. Each pulse of her climax was just as powerful as the last - and the endless orgasm obliterated all the thoughts in Rarity’s head. No words, no worries, no sense of time - just waves of pleasure pounding against her tits and her pussy.
“Moooo!” cried Rarity, her voice booming throughout the milking room as her body expanded. Being a cow - the biggest, most beautiful, milkiest cow - was absolute bliss. Her fingers played in her pussy, drenched in the nectar that flowed from her marehood and pooled around her ankles. Her tits were filling tanks, but her pussy could be filling a bathtub if they were collecting that fluid. With every clench, her growing pussy squirted another quarter-gallon - and as her body grew, each pulse of climax produced more. She was mooing constantly now, her eyes rolled back in her head, tongue lolling out of her mouth, her face frozen in an expression of ecstasy as her body grew in size and her orgasm grew in power.
Rarity felt the tips of her toes brushing against the wall of the milking room. That would be cause for concern, if Rarity was the intelligent and professional mare who owned half of the Milk Bar business. But Rarity was no such thing: she was a cow, who cared nothing for concepts like “property damage.” Rarity the cow wasn’t worried that her gigantic ass would smash through the wall, exposing herself to all of Ponyville. Why should she care? If everyone in town saw her cow-print panties stretched over her bobbing ass, what was so bad about that? If they saw her fat milky tits getting pumped and filling row upon row of tanks, Rarity the big, brainless cow would be pleased that all the little ponies were seeing what her magnificent body could do. When they saw where all that delicious milk was coming from, perhaps they’d praise her. Maybe they’d brush and stroke her all over… maybe they’d climb over her big, beautiful body and touch her in all her most sensitive places.
And white Rarity fantasized, her body kept expanding. Her ass was already rubbing up against one wall, scraping against it as her hips shuddered. Now her breasts touched the opposite wall, the soft flesh smushing against the flat surface as her growing body pushed them forward. If she had been standing up straight, Rarity would already be taller than the thirty-foot ceilings of the milking room. And if she had desired to, she could easily have torn down the building with the strength of her enormous body. But she stayed where she was - kneeling, moaning, mooing as the machines pumped her dry - because nothing else could possibly bring her more pleasure than this.
One way or another, though, her pleasure was about to reach its limit. The crown of her head bumped against the wall of the milking room, and her spine nudged the ceiling. There was no more space to grow into; all she could do was squeeze herself tighter as her body filled all the available space. Her hips nudged the tanks that lined one wall, threatening to knock them over and spill countless gallons of precious milk. Even if she didn’t, they were nearly at their limit - out of the forty-eight tanks, only a few had any space remaining. If Rarity didn’t stop growing, or her tits didn’t run dry soon… the Milk Bar was in for either an overflow or a total architectural collapse.
Of course, Rarity had no plans to stop. She had no plans at all; her body was in control, and her body seemed to delight endlessly in the production of milk and the explosive, endless climax. But even her body, powerful and defiant as it was, had its limits. Rarity felt a wave approaching - something inside her, dipping and then rising, rising…
And when it hit her, it was more intense than anything that had come before. If her climax had been this powerful from the start, it might have truly obliterated her mind and turned her into a brainless, milky cow. Rarity shook the walls of the milking room, unleashing a blissful moo that penetrated the soundproofing of the walls and thoroughly confused any ponies that happened to be passing by the Milk Bar.
Her nipples sent forth one last gush of milk - a torrent of frothy fluid so powerful that it stole away Rarity’s accumulated size gallon by gallon. Gasping for breath, flushed and sweat, still dealing with the aftershocks of her explosive orgasm, Rarity began to shrink back down. The milking machine chugged and smoked, its motors overburdened as it desperately pumped out everything Rarity was giving it. The forty-seventh tank filled up in an instant, and the forty-eighth - with no other tank to reroute the overflow to - split open and poured its contents onto the concrete floor. Something inside the milking machine caught fire, or shook loose, or something - and as a result, the suction ceased and the cups on Rarity’s nipples fell to the floor.
But this time, Rarity was only ten feet tall and losing height fast. Her nipples poured out directly onto the floor now, washing the concrete with gallon upon gallon of sadly wasted milk. In the last few seconds before she shrank down to her normal size, Rarity had just enough presence of mind to reach down, lift one of her breasts, and point the thick pink nipple at her mouth. She savored the taste of her own milk - the freshest it would ever be. Warm, and a little sweet, and immensely satisfying as it went down her throat.
And then Rarity was dry. At long last, unburdened. Every part of her was back to its normal size; her breasts were back to C-cups - although Rarity had developed the sneaking suspicion that they were a little bit bigger after each milking session. It was difficult to say for certain, when one’s bra magically grew to fit one’s chest.
But Rarity wasn’t worrying about that right now. She was too blissed-out to think much about the future; it took all her focus to rise to her feet and stumble towards the exit, splashing through her own milk puddle with each step.
Jersey Pump met Rarity at the door and examined the scene behind her. Milk covered the floor, the milk machine was billowing smoke, and tank number forty-eight was utterly destroyed - but Jersey only furrowed his brow and let out a brief sigh. “So that’s what all that noise was,” he said.
“Yes, I had quite a time in there,” said Rarity airily, breezing past Jersey to retrieve her trenchcoat. “I trust you’ll take care of all that?”
“Of course, miss,” said Jersey. “You did yer job, and I’ll do mine.”
“Thank you, dear,” said Rarity. “I fear we may soon have need of more tanks… perhaps a bigger facility - but I am in no condition to think about any of that.” She wrapped her coat around herself and buttoned up the front, concealing her crotchless cow-print attire. “I’ll be heading home now,” she said, “although I might sit for a moment in the Milk Bar. I want to see how ponies are enjoying my milk.”
