HUCOW INDUCTION - Nebula Milking Farm • Book 2

Lila sits reclined in the sleek, high-tech milking chair at the center of the private parlor. The chair is molded to her body, supporting the soft curve of her pregnant belly while keeping her chest fully accessible. Soft neon purple and pink light washes over her from the curved walls of the orbital station, catching on the glossy black of the chair and the faint golden glow of her skin. Her long dark hair spills loosely over one shoulder and down her back. She is wearing only the sheer black futuristic harness that frames rather than covers her. Her breasts are heavy and full, noticeably larger than they were at the start of her transformation, the skin smooth and tight with milk. Two sleek chrome-and-silicone suction cups are sealed over her nipples. Clear tubing runs from the cups into the wall unit, already carrying thick streams of white. The machine works in a steady, rhythmic pull. Each cycle draws a deep surge of milk from her, the cups gently tugging and releasing. The motion makes her breasts sway slightly within the seals. Milk beads and flows continuously, the volume high enough that the tubing stays opaque. Lila’s head is tipped back against the headrest, lips parted, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. A soft flush colors her cheeks and the upper curve of her chest. Her hands rest loosely on the armrests, fingers occasionally tightening when a stronger pull sends a pulse of sensation through her. The permanent collar at her throat glows faintly in the neon light. Rax stands just to the side of the chair, one large hand resting on the upper curve of her belly, the other monitoring the holographic controls. His presence is steady and watchful. Every so often he reaches out and strokes the side of her breast just above the cup, or brushes his thumb across her lower lip, grounding her while the machine continues its work. The air in the room carries the warm, sweet scent of her milk mixed with the clean metallic smell of the station. Soft mechanical hums and the quiet wet sound of the suction fill the space between her quiet, breathy sounds of pleasure. She looks completely at home in the chair—claimed, full, and openly receiving what her body was remade to give.