> Be Anon, farming on the outskirts of a small village of ponies
> It seems you are stuck in the horse medival times, victim of spontaneous, cross dimensional teleportation
> You blame all those hours playing Portal, and not doing anything productive
> Now you have all the time in the world to be productive, and it's just as bad as you thought it would be
> You get up at dawn, yawning and wishing for proper running water
> You make do with a water basin and a washrag, giving yourself a quick wipedown
> You pull on your handmade boxers and pants
> No shirt though
> After a full year living in this village, the ponies' nudist colony ways have rubbed off a little, hence why you generally don't wear a shirt unless it's absolutely necessary
> Of course, having fewer clothes that you have to wash is a contributing factor to your exhibitionism
> After a simple breakfast of bread and cheese, you are ready to start your day
> You open the door to your little cottage, taking in the sounds of the wildlife
> Snippets of birdsong, a gentle breeze rustling your wheat field, baby noises
> Wait
> Baby noises?
> You look down
> It seems someone left a basket on your doorstep, with two little foals inside
> The white earth pony gazes up at you with big, magenta eyes and babbles happily
> The blue pegasus foal is asleep, nestled up against what you assume is its sibling
> Welp
> You can't really complain too much, Miranda took you in when you had nowhere to go
> If you were going to drop off some unwanted foals, a cow's farm isn't a bad choice
> You pick up the basket and carry it to the barn
> Lil' whitey with the pink mane giggles, and you smile at her
"Aren't you the cutest."
> She wiggles her little hoovsies and grins
> Muh heart
> You shift the basket under your arm as you use the other to open the barn door
> Miranda looks up from her feeding trough, and raises an eyebrow at the basket
> "What did you find, colt?"
> You walk over, setting the basket down for her to see as you grab the pail
"Looks like we got volunteered to be an orphanage."
> The cow sniffs at the foals, a goofy smile on her face
> "I always wanted you to give me foals, but I didn't expect you to do it like this."
> You roll your eyes
> Miss Daisy here hits on you so regularly, it has almost lost all meaning
> You grab a stool and set the pail below her udders
> The you pause
"We should probably let them go first."
> "Hm?"
> You go to the basket and start to pick up whitey, but then bluey starts fussing, and you pick her up instead
> At the touch of your hands, bluey opens her cyan eyes groggily
> You gently rock her in your arms, whispering soothingly as you bring her to Miranda's udders
> She latches on to the nipple greedily, sucking down the warm milk
> Miranda's voices catches
> "Oh, oh my."
> She swings her head around to gaze on the suckling foal with a warm look in her eye
> "I didn't think I'd feel this again, ever since Jessie got too old for it."
> You smile
> Miranda has been a little lonely, ever since her youngest went off to find her fortune
> Once bluey is full, her eyes drift shut
> You still burp her for good measure, before setting her back in the basket and grabbing her sister
> While whitey suckles, you glance at Miranda
"What should we name them?"
> She considers this, gazing upon the sleeping pegasus foal
> "I'll name this one, and you can name the other. What name indeed..."
> You look at the nursing filly in your hands
> Even now, you think you can see the hint of a baby smile
"I'm thinking Sunshine."
> Miranda hums in approval
> "I like it. Then, this one shall be Moonlight."
> Once you are done feeding Sunshine, you set her down next to her sister, and watched as they cuddles in their sleep
> Adorable
> "Oh Anonymous, I believe it is your turn to have some of my milk."
> You honestly don't know what to think of Miranda
> One one hand, she is a cow
> It's not as if cows are particularly attractive in any way
> On the other hand...
> You tug on her teat, squirting milk into the pail
> "Hnnnng, oh yes."
> Her voice
> "Grab me with those strong hands, unf."
> It sounds like a mature woman
> "B-buck yessssss!"
"Not in front of the kids, alright?"
> She gazes at you with bedroom eyes
> "It's fine, they won't remember. Oh, but I will never forget. Now pull on my teats harder."
> The things you do for dairy
> And whyboners


> It still throws you, how cows are essentially horse-world Vikings
> Roaming around, raiding villages for salt, and even when they eventually settled down in the subjugated lands, they still insisted on living in barns, rather than the more luxurious houses ponies used
> Of course, Miranda is too tactful to call the villagers weak to their faces, but she's confided to you that none of them are strong enough to even consider sharing a mate with
> Apparently, that's how cow battles work, a sort of fighting audition for getting into the stronger herd
> That may be why Miranda insists on turning the mill, pulling the plow, and pulling the wagon to the market
> Some sort of combination of "cows are stronger, so they should do the heavy work" and trying to impress you into considering some interspecies action
> Normally, she would bring you with her to market, to use your masculine wiles to get better deals
> But someone has to watch the kids, so here you stay
> It's not so bad, they are pretty good kids
> They are already walking around on all fours, bumping into furniture, sniffing and gumming anything they can find
> Moony flaps her tiny wings, never quite taking off, but occasionally lifting a hoof or two off the ground
> Sunny loves to sit in the sunlight and play with the shadows
> To be honest, you aren't ready for the crying and sleep disruption
> Miranda is sympathetic, yet convinced that because you are a stallion, you know what you are doing
> Well, she's not entirely wrong, you have babysat for your older brother and his brood before
> And it is pretty comfy, taking an afternoon nap with Sunny and Moony curled up on your chest and belly

> To your and Miranda's embarrassment, Sunny's first word is "teat"
> Meanwhile, Moony has mastered the art of giving you a heart attack, flying around like a cute little flappy birdpone
> Her first word is "down" because that is what you loudly insist she needs to get
> You can't believe how much they have grown in just one year, and you wish someone would invent a camera
> Both to record these precious moments, and for the inevitable blackmail
> You have resorted to making drawings, but they are bad enough that using them as blackmail might be mutually assured humiliation
> The kids have started following Miranda around, even when they aren't hungry or thirsty
> It's pretty cute, and gets you some much needed peace and quiet

> One night, after putting the kids to bed,  you crash on the couch
> When you wake the next morning, you feel oddly good
> Like really good
> Also, your dick feels warm and wet
> Your eyes snap open
"M-Miranda?"
> The cow pulls her head up, your manhood slipping out of her mouth with a pop
> "Morning, Anon."
> She licks your balls with her long tongue, a light blush on her cheeks
> Your hips rise involuntarily
"What the hell?"
> She smiles, nuzzling your shaft with her velvety muzzle
> "You always wake up so early to milk me, even though the foals keep you up at night. I just thought I'd return the favor and milk you~"
> Then Miranda wraps her tongue around your cock and pulls it greedily into her mouth
> You groan at the sensation, clutching at the couch cushions
> The cow giggles, bobbing her head up and down
> This is so wrong, but it feels so right
> What would Grandpa Nemo say?
> 'I'll be back in a bit, Bessie is feeling lonely.'
> Dammit Grandpa
> Miranda's tongue writhes and coils around your length, its rough yet soft texture sending tingles all the way up your spine
> You hiss in pleasure, toes curling
> She gazes up at your with a playful look in her eyes, slowing her rhythm to a crawl
> You stare at her in confusion and impatience
> You are feverishly warm, sleep addled, and getting pretty close to the edge of orgasm
"You win this time, Miranda."
> That's when you start thrusting into her mouth

> A year later, you marry that cow