Swollen Hucow, Bred, and Ready to Be Milked

I was bred for this, literally.

My belly’s round, heavy, stretched so tight it aches. You can see it move sometimes, a soft ripple beneath the skin. I’m not just pregnant. I’m claimed. Bred to burst. And now, they won’t stop. My swollen tits leak with every breath, so full I can barely lie down without whimpering.

They keep me here. A good little hucow. Tied, teased, and edged between contractions of milk and desire. I was made to be milked. To be filled. To be fucked over and over again until I can’t remember who I was before this.

And you? You’re watching. Hard. Aching. Knowing you can’t touch until you’ve earned it. Until you’ve begged to taste my milk from the source—hot, sweet, dripping down your throat as I moan from the pressure.

This isn’t just a fantasy. This is a lifestyle. The hucow fetish. The breeding kink. The sweet torture of swollen, aching need.

And I’m not done. Not until I’m milked dry and bred again.

Xoxo, 

Emersyn 

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