#so its more efficient to farm

[narwhalandchill]

just in case anyone elses memory is as bad as mine (bc i nearly forgor lmao): blade pullers remember not to use ur weekly echo of war clears and the SU clear reward immersifiers before the new patch so u can use them on the new boss mats and SU world 7 relics for him

[skeletalheartattack]

i haven't played minecraft in years, but with the armadillo winning the vote, i think about how wolves don't really have much going on in terms of their utility. like anytime i tame a wolf, i end up just kinda keeping them sitting at home.

i think if mojang really does feel like wolves are deserving of armour, with the addition of armadillos, they really need to update wolves to be more useful as companion mobs, because personally... i never feel the urge to bring a wolf with me when im going out to do things, especially if it involves combat.

like, what do dogs do best? fetching stuff and digging, right? like i wish that i could just mill about with a wolf and they track a scent or something and start digging into the dirt and then proceed to bring you that item. like it could range from rarely digging up iron nuggets to digging up vegetables or whatever, yknow. combine the fetching stuff with combat and you wouldn't have to manually pick up stray arrows or items from mobs your wolf kills.

the only other thing i wish you could do with wolves is automate their health in some way, like give more utility to the bowl item so you can place it down for them to eat from so you don't have to constantly manage their health by looking at their tail. just minor quality of life stuff i guess.

idk, that's just my thoughts. i do like wolves in minecraft, they just feel rather lacking with the way some new mobs have so much going on, like the sniffer and allay and so on.

[baeshijima]

hello! i'm here to ask you for hsr tips, i hope you dont mind ^^ may i know what trailblaze level do i start farming for relics? world 3 is currently kicking my ass and it's not even the boss fight 😭 i'm forcing my way through wl3 with 3 star relics too hahhdjfj

hello nonnie !! and ofc idm, im happy to help in any way ^^

relics is kind of iffy bc the main thing to be focusing on until tl50 would be exp mats + ascension mats (exp for both characters and lightcones are more important to stock up on as well as credits bc they burn out quickly after tl40, and ive heard they go super fast at tl50)

rn i would say either level up ur 3 star relics if u havent, or just do a lot of chests/challenges !! i got a lot of 4 star relics from finding bountiful and precious chests + the luofu gives a lot !! and also if u havent already then be sure to level ur main characters up with their lightcones + traces !!

ofc if u want to get through the game a bit easier and thats ur main priority then u can farm some relics and lvl them up !! iirc wl3 had me levelling a lot of my 4 star relics just to get through, with some being max lvl ;w;

hope this helped u in choosing what to do nonnie and gl 🫶🫶

[spywitch]

I really love those like old lady ethical dog breeder ppl bc like how do they get so fixated and dedicated to ONE specific breed? I love almost all breeds so much I can’t even decide what breed I will get next lmao and I’d probably like to get into sports or maybe even shows one day but I don’t even know what breed I’d do

[catgirl-or-furry]

Working on a writing project where one aspect is Twitch chat and I'd like someone who spends more time on Twitch than me to verify how acceptable my fake Twitch chat comments are and if there's anything I should add or subtract.

Context for why chat is saying these: first character mentions they watch mcyt including QSMP, SDMP, and TFCS, later gives subpar advice on flood safety. Classic adhd streamer bouncing between random subjects and not answering questions like "what is TFCS?" Because the topic shifted already (TFCS is just random letters) and none of that actually matters to the story its just setting the scene.

[nomaishuttle]

got 2 the end of the glass desert got caseys last starmail screammsss

[reasonsforhope]

"It is 70 years since AT&T’s Bell Labs unveiled a new technology for turning sunlight into power. The phone company hoped it could replace the batteries that run equipment in out-of-the-way places. It also realised that powering devices with light alone showed how science could make the future seem wonderful; hence a press event at which sunshine kept a toy Ferris wheel spinning round and round.

Today solar power is long past the toy phase. Panels now occupy an area around half that of Wales, and this year they will provide the world with about 6% of its electricity—which is almost three times as much electrical energy as America consumed back in 1954. Yet this historic growth is only the second-most-remarkable thing about the rise of solar power. The most remarkable is that it is nowhere near over.

To call solar power’s rise exponential is not hyperbole, but a statement of fact. Installed solar capacity doubles roughly every three years, and so grows ten-fold each decade. Such sustained growth is seldom seen in anything that matters. That makes it hard for people to get their heads round what is going on. When it was a tenth of its current size ten years ago, solar power was still seen as marginal even by experts who knew how fast it had grown. The next ten-fold increase will be equivalent to multiplying the world’s entire fleet of nuclear reactors by eight in less than the time it typically takes to build just a single one of them.

Solar cells will in all likelihood be the single biggest source of electrical power on the planet by the mid 2030s. By the 2040s they may be the largest source not just of electricity but of all energy. On current trends, the all-in cost of the electricity they produce promises to be less than half as expensive as the cheapest available today. This will not stop climate change, but could slow it a lot faster. Much of the world—including Africa, where 600m people still cannot light their homes—will begin to feel energy-rich. That feeling will be a new and transformational one for humankind.

To grasp that this is not some environmentalist fever dream, consider solar economics. As the cumulative production of a manufactured good increases, costs go down. As costs go down, demand goes up. As demand goes up, production increases—and costs go down further. This cannot go on for ever; production, demand or both always become constrained. In earlier energy transitions—from wood to coal, coal to oil or oil to gas—the efficiency of extraction grew, but it was eventually offset by the cost of finding ever more fuel.

As our essay this week explains, solar power faces no such constraint. The resources needed to produce solar cells and plant them on solar farms are silicon-rich sand, sunny places and human ingenuity, all three of which are abundant. Making cells also takes energy, but solar power is fast making that abundant, too. As for demand, it is both huge and elastic—if you make electricity cheaper, people will find uses for it. The result is that, in contrast to earlier energy sources, solar power has routinely become cheaper and will continue to do so.

Other constraints do exist. Given people’s proclivity for living outside daylight hours, solar power needs to be complemented with storage and supplemented by other technologies. Heavy industry and aviation and freight have been hard to electrify. Fortunately, these problems may be solved as batteries and fuels created by electrolysis gradually become cheaper...

The aim should be for the virtuous circle of solar-power production to turn as fast as possible. That is because it offers the prize of cheaper energy. The benefits start with a boost to productivity. Anything that people use energy for today will cost less—and that includes pretty much everything. Then come the things cheap energy will make possible. People who could never afford to will start lighting their houses or driving a car. Cheap energy can purify water, and even desalinate it. It can drive the hungry machinery of artificial intelligence. It can make billions of homes and offices more bearable in summers that will, for decades to come, be getting hotter.

But it is the things that nobody has yet thought of that will be most consequential. In its radical abundance, cheaper energy will free the imagination, setting tiny Ferris wheels of the mind spinning with excitement and new possibilities.

This week marks the summer solstice in the northern hemisphere. The Sun rising to its highest point in the sky will in decades to come shine down on a world where nobody need go without the blessings of electricity and where the access to energy invigorates all those it touches."

-via The Economist, June 20, 2024

[headspace-hotel]

There are so many tech startups with a Great Idea for indoor vertical farming and they keep crashing and burning and yet people keep investing in indoor vertical farming because it is "The next big thing" according to some ass backwards whacko conception of the universe where industrial monoculture agriculture is already the most efficient and sustainable possible use of land that could ever exist and its not even worth investigating foolish things like "Any of the agriculture systems practiced on the planet except modern industrial monoculture" or "Thousands of edible plant species that exist and could be used as crops"

the idea that will solve world hunger and preserve ecosystems, supposedly, is simply to stack plants in layers and layers on top of one another in these shelf type structures in a giant warehouse, shining electrical lights on them so they can grow.

Of course it is a glaring problem that it takes massive amounts of fossil fuels to run the electricity, basically replacing solar power used in normal agriculture (the sun) with fossil fuels, which is the opposite of what we need to be doing.

So they say, "Worry not! We can generate the electricity with solar farms!" at which point I perhaps need to study more deeply to comprehend the business model of building an array of solar panels to provide energy for a solar-powered facility in order to grow the already solar-powered plants (creatures which already have solar panels on them from birth)

[rambling-at-midnight]

Pros and Cons of Midnight Snacks

Pairing: Jason Todd x Civilian!Reader. No pronouns so can be read as any gender!

Summary: Meet-ugly with the Red Hood due to a gas station robbery gone wrong.

Word count: ~2k

(I'm branching out to other fandoms, apparently. Let me know if you want a sequel. Enjoy!)

You weren't born in Gotham, so it sometimes still surprises you that you had adjusted so well to its particular brand of crazy.

You're from somewhere a little more south of New Jersey, although most places in the U.S. are a little south of Jersey unless you're a lobster farmer from Maine or a tree hugger from Vermont.

Both of those descriptions sound critical, but they weren't meant to be. Right about now you're seriously considering taking up lobster farming.

No one sane ever moves to Gotham. Everyone knows the stories, and even if most of the country didn't believe all of them, most people aren't stupid enough to disregard them. And you certainly weren't stupid. But rent was dirt cheap for a city, and so was tuition for GU's vet school. So you thought to yourself, "How bad could it really be," bought pepper spray and a taser, and accepted the admissions offer.

You'd always liked iced coffee more than green bean casserole and peach cobbler, anyway.

Reading news articles hadn't been enough to prepare you for the utter insanity of Gotham City, unfortunately. But you adapted. You always did. Upgraded your taser, memorized the bus schedule, learned the less sketchy areas of town, did your best not to get caught outside after dark. Kept your head down, ignored the crime lords and genetic experiments gone wrong and lunatics and vigilantes scurrying along the rooftops, and you'd survived for almost two years without many incidents.

But you'd gone to the library because you were critically unable to work in your apartment, gotten distracted by panicking about how little you really knew about next week's test content, and stared at the pages of your textbook for almost an hour as you fought back tears. So now you were running late and it was dark as you walked home because the buses were down. Of course they were. That lunatic that thought he was a crocodile had smashed a bunch last week and they hadn't been replaced yet.

Goosebumps prickle on the back of your neck, but you tell yourself it's nothing. Keep your head down. Criminals target the people that look most obviously paranoid first.

You're just burnt out. Severely. But the end of your sophomore year of veterinary school was looming, which meant you would have a relaxing three-month vacation before the next one started.

And no, you weren't thinking about next year's summer 'vacation' of clinicals. Because if this year was bad after a year of summer vacation, what will it do to you to have no break at all?

That's a future you problem, thankfully.

You're still feeling sorry for yourself when you reach the gas station right next to your apartment building. You walk right by it, remember what's in your fridge or pantry—thanks, grocery store self, thinking you don't need any snacking foods—then backtrack.

Since starting vet school, you've tried to be healthier with your eating habits. Brains lacking in nutrients absorb information less efficiently, after all. But you're still a sucker for Cheez-Its and energy drinks.

You won't drink it tonight, obviously.

Right as you put the items on the counter for the bored-looking cashier to scan the barcodes, something cold presses to your temple.

The cashier freezes, eyes blown wide with panic.

"Easy there," someone says to your left. A man, voice oily in a way that sets your teeth on edge immediately. "Do what I say, or I blow their brains out, then yours."

A gun.

A gun is pressed to your head.

Because of course it is. A shitty way to end a shitty day. You should have kept walking right past the gas station.

Before you moved to Gotham, you might have screamed and panicked, but you know better now. You know to stay calm.

You clench your fists to stop them from shaking so noticeably, but otherwise don't move. You've seen hostage situations before, because this is Gotham, but you've never been the hostage.

The gun feels heavy. And so cold, like it's sapping all the heat from your skin.

"Okay, dude," the cashier said soothingly. "You want the money in the register?"

The robber scoffs. "Obviously."

"All right." The cashier's voice is even and soft, unthreatening. You wonder if training for situations like these are required for cashiers in Gotham. It certainly hadn't been for your old job, although that hadn't been in New Jersey, and it hadn't been at a twenty-four seven gas station, either. "I need to get a key to unlock it, okay? So I'm reaching below the counter."

"Just get the key," the robber demands. The gun shifts against your temple. You fantasize for a half-second about acting like an action hero, disarming him and taking him down all on your own. But you're not a vigilante and you've never been in a real-life fight before. You don't think you're fast enough to get out of the barrel's way before he pulls the trigger. If you managed to shove it away, what if he fired and hit the cashier instead?

Then comes the sound of another gun clicking.

Great, you think half-hysterically. Just what we need. Even more deadly weapons.

"Lower the gun," growls a modulated voice, and everyone freezes.

The Red Hood is standing behind the robber, also pointing a gun to his head like the meme of people lined up in a church with guns aimed at the person in front of them.

The robber lets his gun dip a little bit. Distracted enough that it's not pressed directly to your temple anymore.

Not to brag, but you recover the quickest. It's probably the adrenaline.

Thank God you keep your keychain in hand while out at night. Your fingers shake, but you have your pepper spray up in a second, and the robber's turning to look at your sudden movement when you squeeze down on the nozzle.

The spray hits him directly in the eyes, and his howl of pain is immediate. But you don't stop spraying, even when the cashier starts to splutter and your own eyes water.

The gun goes off, once in the robber's hands, and a second time when it hits the ground because he's dropped it in favor of clutching his burning face.

You stop the stream of pepper spray, because now the air is spicy when you breathe, but can't force yourself to lower your hand. The Red Hood quickly handcuffs the would-be robber, which is only difficult because he's clawing at his eyes in pain, and executes a tricky-looking martial arts move to get him on the ground.

Despite everything, you're impressed.

The Red Hood is bigger than maybe anyone you've ever seen before. He could have punched the robber in half like paper, probably, but you appreciate the finesse a little bit more.

"Hey." A gentle voice, and gentle hands, take the pepper spray out of your grip. "Quick thinking there," you're complimented. By the fucking Red Hood, one of Gotham's most infamous crime lords. The first time you read about him in the papers, he was chopping off people's heads, and every story since has been similarly alarming. But he's not supposed to be here; the Red Hood stays in Park Row, which locals call Crime Alley, apparently, and you've always steered very clear from that part of town.

"Can you look at me?"

You do. Maybe he won't chop off your head if you listen well enough.

"Are you okay?"

You blink. That... does not compute.

The Red Hood doesn't save people. And he doesn't leave Crime Alley. So what's he doing outside of Crime Alley, saving people?

The robber is still screaming, eyes screwed up in pain. He's handcuffed on the ground.

"You should probably let him wash out his eyes, at least," you tell the cashier. "Pepper spray is pretty painful." You'd sprayed yourself once out of curiosity, realized how much it burned, then sprinted to the shower to rinse it off. Which, pro tip: not a good move, especially with warm water. Water reactivates it by opening your pores, or something, and when you're in the shower it just spreads all over your body.

Your eyes are watering. The Red Hood sees that, because he tells you, "Let's get some air," and tugs you out of the gas station.

He's right. The cool night air does feel good. You blink away the stinging in your eyes and he repeats, "Are you okay?" His voice is robotic from the mask, but kind of pleasant at the same time. You'd never guess just from listening to him that he's a killer.

"Yes," you say automatically. "Thanks," you add. You're lightheaded for some reason; you sway on your feet.

"You sure?" he asks critically. "You look... pale." Judging by the pause, 'pale' wasn't the word he really wanted to say. The red helmet tilts. "You weren't shot, were you?"

"I don't think so," you shrug. Then you look down at yourself and realize that there's a large bloodstain on your hip. "Never mind. I think I was."

"Jesus!" he yelps at the sight. It's kind of funny, actually, this grown man built like a brick shithouse yelping at the sight of blood. "Why didn't you say anything?"

You shrug and peel your sticky shirt away from the wound to inspect it. "I thought I just bumped something." Sure enough, it's just a graze. You weren't sure which shot had hit you, but you'd honestly been injured worse. Plus, supervising surgeries at the animal clinic you'd worked at for years has desensitized you to the sight of blood. Maybe it's also altered your perception on what 'serious injuries' count as; the amount of times you've been bitten by startled dogs...

"You need to go to the hospital."

"It's just a scratch," you argue. "I can't go to the hospital. I need to feed my cat."

"Your cat can wait. You're bleeding a lot."

"I'm already late, and if I miss dinner, he'll start pissing all over my apartment."

The Red Hood sighs. "Where do you live?"

Your mouth opens to answer on instinct. You snap it shut just in time and glare. "Why?"

"So I can feed your cat for you while you go to the hospital."

It's nice of him to offer, but... "No."

"No?"

Maybe it's not the best idea to refuse Gotham's most prominent crime lord, but it would also be pretty stupid to tell a strange man where you live. Especially when he happens to be said crime lord.

"Look," you sigh. "I'm a vet student. I have surgical tools at home to treat myself with, and I promise, under the blood, the bullet barely hit me. I've been hurt worse by Chihuahuas that hate the vet."

"There's no way I can convince you to change your mind?"

"It's been a long day," you sigh. "I really, really just want to go home." And he's blocking the path. Your apartment building is directly behind him, just calling your name.

"At least let me walk you to your building." He holds his hands up at your suspicious look and assures you, "I won't ask for the apartment number."

"I'm literally right there." You point.

He turns, sees how close you are to being home, and says, "Seriously?"

"Seriously. What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were some kind of villain."

"I'm reformed," he grumbles.

"Well, good for you."

You make sure you have your keys and your wallet, then step around him and make it all the way to your building's door before he calls, "Wait!" The Red Hood's jogging to catch up to you, holding the box of Cheez-Its and energy drink you'd almost died for. "You forgot these," he says.

"Thanks," you say, taking them. It would have been a shame to waste four dollars.

"You're welcome," he says. There's something odd about his voice, but you attribute it to the mask, scan to be let into the building, and make sure it's fully closed before heading to the elevator.

Your cat is unhappy about dinner being an hour late. He weaves between your feet, making his protests loudly and viscerally known. You wince. He's worse than the dogs that bark in this building sometimes.

Your poor neighbors.

You give him his wet food, then hop in the shower to clean off your hip. It bled a lot, but once the blood washes away, it's actually not as bad as you thought. You've stitched up animals before, but never yourself, and decide against trying tonight. If it heals a little unevenly, who cares? No one will see it, anyway.

You pad the wound with gauze, tape it over, and fall into bed. Staring at the ceiling, you're forced to admit to yourself that you may be looking up more in the future. Just to see if anyone in a red helmet is running on a rooftop nearby.

It was a long day. But, strangely, almost dying wasn't the worst part of it.

Actually... it may have been the best part.

~~

Forever tag list:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

[jozor-johai]

Sometimes I think it's underrated how much of Westeros we see during wartime. Amidst all of the discourse back and forth over whether the brutality of ASOIAF has a "realistic" basis in real-life feudal history, I think the fact that we're seeing Westeros in a very atypical and specific circumstance should not go overlooked, and I think in that regard there are parts that are "realistic" to modern history, let alone feudal.

For instance, in regards to the complaints about how many women are sex workers in ASOIAF—I think that has more to say about the nature of the wartime economy.

War breaks out; as a result, the regular economy halts. This is the result of various blockades, as well as from the workforce being redirected away from production and towards standing armies—fewer farms are being maintained, and fewer still are making it across wartime boundaries. Another side effect, then, is the trouble when this economic situation interacts with the practical existence of a standing army: massive amounts of young men, either single or separated from their families, drawing disproportionately on the limited resources of the farmland around them (which is being worked at a less-efficient rate than usual to begin with).

The army—comprised of young men—creates a demand for sex that interacts with the overflowing supply of young women without stable income (since this is an incredibly patriarchal society and the men in their lives have been taken away from work for military service). Without better jobs available, and with the market right there, these women turn to sex work, which syrockets. But of course they would, and of course it seems like every smallfolk woman we meet in ASOIAF is doing it: because people have to eat and feed their families, and the fields to plow have been burned by war, and the people who would work them have either been taken for military service or killed by war. It's exceedingly likely that sex work wasn't as widespread before the war so the increase in the need for sex workers represents the failing economy—consider the overabundance of sex workers in ACOK King's Landing, which was under a trade blockade from almost all fronts.

Then, the pendulum swings back the other direction: this is an unsustainable economy and an unsustainable way to live, so there is a reactionary religious response demanding a return to the way things were before (pre-war, in effect, but never separating this from the "social ills" that war results in). The women are blamed for their behavior, despite being demanded by the men around them and made necessary by the economy, and so this reactionary response leads to a religious condemnation of the "wanton" behavior of women.

The religious response in particular gains traction because organized religion offers several very meaningful things that otherwise solve these problems. We see from Septon Meribald toting his goods that the Faith offers charity to the starving. We see with the Sparrows, and personally with Lancel how the Faith offers a sense of meaning to those disenchanted by this strife. We see from the Sparrows and the rise of the High Sparrow how the organized religion of the Faith also offers a means of returning power to the disenfranchised.

So GRRM is achieving something unnervingly realistic here, showing what happens to local economies under wartime and the lingering horror that is left behind—a scenario that is still true of modern war, even if Americans don't have to see it personally. GRRM lived through Vietnam, and the influence is obvious in how the invading American military practiced rape and forced dubiously-consensual sex work onto the local economy.

It's also realistic how organized religion gains traction in scenarios where disenfranchised peoples need sources of hope and methods of organizing to regain what little power is available to them, and how organized religion can leverage a desire for better times into moral condemnation that fuels its rise to increasing levels of de jure power. It will be interesting to see in TWOW and beyond where the trajectory of the High Sparrow leads these people (and what that says about GRRM's observations and interpretations about modern historical parallels).

[bump1nthen1ght]

Kissing the Pain Away (M!CowHybrid!Reader x M!Demon)

Pairing: Male! Cow Hybrid!Reader x Male!Farmer!Demon

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Hybrid Farms

Warnings: Explicit Content Ahead (18+ ONLY)

Word count: 1535 words

Summary: It’s the middle of a balmy summer night, but you’re busy tossing and turning, teets full and aching with milk. Luckily, your lovely demon farmer comes to the rescue.

Request: dont know you guys but i lowkey wanna request a big tittied male cow hybrid reader getting milked both ways by a farmer i mean they can be male or maybe female not problem (mostly male but its on you) but they are demon like just hear me out guys... (I would like to breastfeed someone even tho im a male)

It’s too damn hot out.

You knew it was gonna be too damn hot the minute you woke up, with a fire in your belly and sweat beading on your brow. Your normally cozy stall feels stuffy, the air thick as you toss and turn, trying to go back to sleep. But the aching pains all over are too much to ignore.

You try your best to be good, but it just hurts so much.

So you whine, mooing as pathetically as you can, the sound echoing across the giant barn. It only takes a couple of minutes for the lights to be switched on, for the familiar sound of work boots on straw coming towards you.

“It’s 2 AM, bud. This better be good.” Orias hums, wiping a calloused palm down his face, trying his best to rub the sleep out of his eyes. You nearly burst into tears as he slides open the stall doors, finally getting a glimpse at your weeping form. 

“P-please.” You keen, hand reached out in desperation

The sight of you curled up, desperately massaging your chest and rutting your hips is enough to soften his gaze. He rubs the back of his neck with a sigh.

It’s gonna be a long night.

“Poor thing. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be cross.” His own tail flicks back and forth, hat pulled off his horns as he kneels in front of you, dexterous hands quickly rubbing at your swollen nipples. “Damn, these are hard as rocks. No wonder you’re hollering.”

All you can do is nod and push yourself into his grip, begging for the relief of being milked. Everything aches and only an experienced touch can make you feel better.

“I got you, handsome. Let Daddy take care of you.”

Red palms scoop up under your pecs, pushing in a massaging upward motion to encourage the milk to release. You shudder out a breath of relief, the feeling of letting go almost as good as the tongue flicking across your nipple. Orias is never one to waste, lapping up all your dribbling milk with efficiency. Even so, he grabs a bucket from the corner and places it under your leaking chest, knowing he can’t swallow it all.

It’s still not quite enough. The slow pace offers temporary pleasure, but it will be a while until you’re fully empty. All you can chase now is the friction of your bottoms against the hay-ridden stall floor, balls aching just like your chest. Your small bumps barely stave away the pain, your cock-head leaking enough to stain the front of your pajama bottoms.

“Ah-ah!” Your voice echoes as Orias fishes your cock out through your shorts, right through your fly. His thumb brushes across the weeping head, your shaft already slick. He detaches briefly from your nipple, catching his breath.

“Someone’s getting greedy.” Orias gives kitten licks to your other swollen nipple, just rubbing his palm up the sides of your dick . Your moos are forlorn, big wet tears leaving tracks down your cheeks now. Canting your hips into his hand, you pull out all the stops. “Ahh, I spoil you too much.”

You don’t hide the moan as Orias finally latches onto your other teet, his palm sliding down your wet shaft to fondle your balls. Rivulets of pre-cum now run down the sides, making squelching sounds as he squeezes and gropes. Orias grabs another bucket for your semen; He can’t waste any of the real money maker.

“Good boy.” He mutters, taking only a second to detach before sipping on more milk. His hand moves up from your balls to the base of your cock, ringing out more dripping cum into the bucket as he squeezes up and down. The slow slap, slap, as he jerks you off is only made louder by your cum and sweat, spilling out over Orias wrists and dribbling onto his forearm.

He has to take a break for one moment, catching his breath and shaking out his wrist. Voracious as you are, those few seconds feel like torture. You rut into his chest half-heartedly, barely any strength left.

“I know, I know.” His hand finds itself snugly back on your dick but his head stays away from your teets. He instead reaches over to grab the milking machine, two suction cups attached to a large, sterile tank. “I want to make you feel better baby, but this will do a better job than I can.”

Normally you'd fight back, always preferring Orias mouth to the impersonal cups, but you’ve got gallons stored up and he’s only one demon. It’s the one bit of logic your addled brain can manage.

“O-okay.” You hiccup, brushing away the tears as you present your chest. Orias' experience helps him attach the machine with only one hand. Once attached, he turns his focus on your other milker.

Your head gets thrown back as Orias settles onto his knees, taking tentative licks of your cock. The milking machine is helping relieve some pressure, but this hint of stimulation has you mooing louder than ever.

“Oooooh.” You sigh as Orias licks a long stripe up your shaft, smacking his lips with the taste of your prized semen. Your cock jerks in against his lips, some more spurting onto his cheeks. He swipes it off and into the bucket. “Need it, please. Need to be milked.”

Your balls are hot and heavy in Orias hands, your musk almost intoxicating. It’s what sends him over the edge and has him finally, finally, swallow down your cock. His tongue lathers up the semen, spit dripping down his jaw as he takes you all the way to the base. You toss your head back in a moan.

“Yes! Yes!” Bushy fur presses up against Orias nose as you grab onto his horns and buck, balls slapping against the bottom of his chin as you ride out in his mouth. Your pent up hormones and his tongue are enough for you already to be near the brink. “Fu-uck.” You pant, tongue lolled out like a dog as your first orgasm hits, shooting straight into the back of Orias throat. You can see his nostrils flare and his eyes go wide, but this isn’t his first rodeo. He knows one won’t be enough, could never be enough, so he swallows the whole load without complaint.

You take a couple seconds, catching your breath and giving your thighs a break, but Orias tongue doesn’t. He keeps you hard with his long tongue encircling you in his mouth, the tip just reaching your balls. It’s all you need to kick start another fire in your belly, to ache for that sensation again.

Your thrusts are a little slower but no less desperate, the lessening pain meaning you can fully enjoy Orias’ skills. 

“S-so deep.” You stutter, transfixed by the site of your dick going in and out of Orias’ mouth. His bright yellow eyes finally meet yours, a twinge going up your back and straight into your stomach.  You find yourself lost in them, not even realizing how Orias’ hands crawl up your backside, pullin apart your asscheeks until-

“Ah!” You jerk Orias all the way down to your base when the first finger sinks into your asshole, sweat and cum making it glide in with little issue. It’s nice, but Orias know you need more, using your momentary shock to slip in a second and a third. That tingly feeling moves down all the way to your hooves, your tail now jerking back and forth like a happy dog. 

Orias scissors his finger soutward, stretching your whole and it's like your brain is being scrambled. Your nerves are firing, not sure to hump into Orias mouth or to ride his fingers like a dildo. Luckily he makes the decision for you, pulling you all the way to the tip and then forcing himself back down on your cock. At the same time, his fingers reach your prostate, matching his slobbery blowjob’s tempo to that of his hand. All you can do is let the pleasure carry you, knuckles gripped tight onto his horns just hoping not to pass out.

“Gonna cum again!” You're able to finally moo out, eyes nearly crossed. It doesn’t do anything to halt Orias pace, his lips curling into a grin as you reach a higher plane of existence. It’s almost too much, so good, so good, so good-

“O-oh!” The second orgasm hits you like a brick to the face; if the first was like a firecracker, then this was an explosion. Your whole lower body tenses, assshole tightening as your cock gushes cum. Orias, slightly more prepared, swallows some yet holds the rest in his mouth. When you finally collapse to your knees, he spits the rest in the cum bucket, wiping off the excess and flicking it in there too.

You hardly remember the milking machine detaching, or yoru shorts benign plled back up. Your face is smushed into Orias’ chest, his large hands rubbing soothing circles into your abc.

“There, there, that's a good little cow, huh?”

You nod, still utterly cock drunk. You don’t notice Orias flicking the lights off, a full-body exhaustion hitting you like a train.

The heat doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night.

[maybeelse]

She doesn't get a chance to understand before it kills her.

A month later, when her latest iteration wakes inside her latest descendant-clone, she's already cursing when she comes out of the nutrient broth. Technician-dolls cringe away from her fury, unpleasantly aware of how it distorts their witchwork hearts.

"—I should have had it that time! What went wrong? Which of you fucking rags lost hold of their wards?" None of them reply, of course. "Give me the damn readouts, useless things, I'll figure this out myself ..."

The path from the resurrection suite to her office is among the longest and least scenic on the ship, deep below stairs, full of all the unsightly necessities that keep lights on and bellies full. Even so, there's still slimy nutrient residue clinging to her by the end of it, slick-drying-to-sticky. Dolls hurry to clean the trail she left behind.

Her office is cleaner than she left it, a fresh pot of tea waiting on the sideboard. Her own custom blend. It's the best she can do out here in the uneasy void, and her best is very good indeed. Each sip coats her throat with hot honey and drenches her tongue in delicate, creamy flowers. By the end of her third cup it becomes clear that her failure has no easy culprit.

The mass of potential her ship is anchored to, the scar on the void, simply popped her existence like an unwanted pimple. Possibly this was in response to something she did—she's missing the final thirty seconds of telemetry and memory—but if so it would mean that her last iteration went off script. There's no trace of anything else.

She groans in frustration.

As if in response, there is a knock at the door. Tentative, uneasy. No wonder; her foul mood is palpable. "M-mistress?"

"Come in."

The door's hinges don't creak. They used to, in the old house she plucked it from, but somehow that was lost in transition. Perhaps in her absence the dolls have grown over-eager to oil them.

The face that peeks through is one she knows well; after all, she is responsible for most of its more distinctive features. The delicate scarification around its seven eyes, two sets of three packed close together and the last above, splitting its forehead into two smooth panels; the seams where she taught its lips to part further than it ever thought they could. And, most satisfyingly of all, the involuntary flush that creeps into its cheeks when it sees her. Her secretary.

Its body is no less pleasing to her, even hidden under space-ready overalls and behind a large manila folder. Her eyes linger; her crotch twitches. It takes her a moment to focus on what her secretary is saying—her new body's hormone balance must be off. Something to look into.

"... lost one substrate tank to a micrometeorite strike while You were away, but otherwise resource consumption was minimal. Hydroponic and solar arrays are both running at full efficiency, so that's good. The bad news is the ram-scoop malfunction, which this one already mentioned, and contamination in the soul-farm. Not urgent, but attrition will be a problem until it's fixed. Other than that," it trails off, "there's ... miss ...?"

It drifted closer to her desk while it was talking, its many-branched legs twitching almost involuntarily. It always moves like this: incidental, distracted, torso held perfectly steady. In low gravity, its hair slowly drifting around it, the effect is mesmerizing. Heat runs through her body, hundreds of strings plucked and vibrating, converging, focusing. The choice to stand is not wholly her own.

She prefers to be taller than her secretary, though not by much. Standing, its eyes are level with her collarbones; kneeling, its complex legs partially folded under it, it looks up at her from waist-height. She admires its eyes, lidded and dilated; its choice to kneel owes more to rigorous conditioning than conscious thought.

"... miss?"

She steps towards it, the flush in its cheeks deepening as her body's heat and scent envelop it—the chemical-sweet nutrient broth, the milky-sour undertones of fresh-grown flesh, her own tangy musk slowly building as her body makes its needs known. Her secretary's lips part.

"Good. Now, keep your mouth open for me ..."

She takes full advantage of how wide its mouth opens.

Later—much later—she's scrubbing her resurrection's last vestiges out of her hair, massaging the shampoo into her scalp with the same precision she'll soon apply to building a new exploration-craft. Putting her new hands through their motions. Her secretary lies on the tile floor, its body leaking, swollen, and utterly insensate.

This is her fourth attempt to get clean. It's entirely her own fault that her secretary looks so delicious every time it stirs back to life, just as it's entirely her own fault that they have had an intermittent audience of off-duty technician-dolls: when she designed her ship she didn't think to give herself a private bath suite, and the dolls weren't grown with enough sense to give their mistress her privacy.

Probably that's going to cause cultural problems down the line, if she doesn't remember to do something about it.

Another technician-doll freezes in the entrance to the baths, its soft curves already half-freed from its shapelessly utilitarian uniform. Its eyes flicker between her and her secretary; she can feel the way its gaze travels down her body, snapping to her breasts, the curve of her stomach, and her crotch, flushed and oversensitive and demanding no matter how hard she tries to calm it.

The doll's nose twitches; its cheeks flush; and she yells "get out, idiot!" at it just before it's too late. Her entire body twitches with predatory need as she watches it flee; an utterly inappropriate way to feel about a thing that is already hers, that exists only to serve her purposes, that would happily let her break it apart—and why shouldn't she? She vibrates with need, her body taking a single step before she swings back towards her secretary, so perfectly shaped to her desires—

She is starting to think that something went seriously, fundamentally wrong with her resurrection.

She's going to have to figure out how to fix it, soon.

But maybe not yet. Not with her secretary's body right there. She can afford to wear herself out first, just as a precaution. It's fine. And, as she picks up her secretary's limp body, she's careful not to acknowledge that she's not sure if she can stop herself.

[sweetlyskz]

Emerald Gem||Chapter 3

Chapter one|Chapter two|Chapter three|Chapter four|Chapter five|Chapter six|Chapter seven|Chapter eight|Chapter nine|Chapter ten(finale!)|

Pairing: Hybrid!OT7 x fem!reader

Overview: Living away from society has its perks. All natural food from your thoroughly cultivated farm, no nosy neighbors, and peace and security with your animals. But sometimes you did get lonely, having no one the talk to but the pigs. However, when 7 extremely wanted hybrids stable upon your deserted farm, everything changes.

Genre: Hybrid Au, Strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut, fluff

Warnings: Suggestive themes, language, mentions of abuse and trauma

Word count: 1.5k

Unedited

He was avoiding you. You could tell. He made it very obvious. Each morning you woke up, he was going to sleep. And every night you went to sleep, he was just waking up, but he didn't dare leave the room, for fear that he would run into you.

Joon was still being Joon, and the Situation with Jimin made it worse. You weren't sure if he knew what happened between you and Jimin, but you didn't ask to find out either. However, he was eating more and more. At least he can trust you enough to eat your cooking. That's progress, right?

Before you knew it, the boys had been with you for two weeks. Some of them had become pretty comfortable. Taking the advice Taehyung gave you, you bought some cat scratchers for Yoongi. All of the wolf hybrids in the pack would go in the backyard to let all their energy out, except Joon. He just watched over them, scolding them whenever they would chase the chickens.

Jungkook was your new best friend. He stuck by your side like glue, your big buff teddy bear. Yoongi was quiet, reserved. He spoke to you often, but he tried not to talk for longer than a couple minutes. Jin and Taehyung were the best of help. He always cook meals, and when it's time to farm, he never lets you do anything yourself. Hoseok was still timid and flighty, but he was loyal. This group of dangerous hybrids was slowing becoming a loving family... very slowly.

"Seriously Tae, get your own!" Jungkook and Taehyung were fighting over the new snacks you had gotten them. One thing you learned about about kook was that he was very territorial over his belongings. That's why you had a specific drawer of snacks with his name on it.

Unfortunately, that wasn't enough to stop Taehyung.

"Just one bite, please!" They were playing tug of war with the bag of chips. Jungkook was winning. "You have a whole box of them! I can't have just one?"

"No! You can't", he protested. While trying to tear the chips from Tae's grasp, the bag rips, chips flying in the air and landing all over the kitchen.

"Look at what you did!" Tae accused, bending down to pick everything up. A broom would've been more efficient but he wasn't sure where you kept it. "Hurry up and help me clean before Y/n sees it!"

Swiftly, Jungkook helps pick up the salty potato chips. Before exiting the kitchen, they look around one more time to make sure there wasn't even a single crumb on the floor.

And with that, the argument over the chips was over, never brought up again...

You noticed that Jimin loved hanging out in your greenhouse, admiring all of your colorful flowers. You wanted to give him some space, but while watching him walk around the greenhouse you had the urge to join him.

"Those are vincas, by the way", you whispered loud enough for him to hear you, fiddling with your fingers.

He appeared to be startled by your presence- rightfully so. His mouth hung open, looking as if he wanted to say something. You stoped him before he could get the chance.

"Before you say anything. Let me just apologize first-"

He shook his head. "Don't. There's no need to apologize. You did nothing wrong... I should be the one apologizing. I know that hybrids and humans aren't allowed to interact i-in that way- very selfish of me."

"What are you talking about?" You may have done a lot of research on hybrids, but you never did any on their relationship with people. Maybe you should've...

"In the lab they always told us..", Jimins mind went back to the days he wished to never remember.

The lab was cold, ice cold. Stuffed in cages, the wolves shivered, huddled together for warmth. One by one, the men in lab coats sedated the wolves, fearing being bit by them.

"This one is feisty!" The researcher laughed, holding the hybrid by the spikey collar as the medicine kicked in. The others in the cage kicked and pulled on the metal bars.

"Please! He's tired, he can't take anymore!" The pack leader begged. "Take me! Take me instead, I'll do anything."

The researcher came up to the cage with a cane, banging it on the bars. "Listen here, mutt", he hissed. "Each of us have a part to play. Your is to be obedient to your superiors, understood?"

The other men laughed and applauded him for putting Joon in his place. "That's right! Show him what happens when mutts defy humans..."

Everyone in the lab agreed, shouting as if the lab had become the coliseum. A fox hybrid ran up to the bars, getting down on his knees, head pointed to the floor.

"Please excuse him, sir. We know are place is and will always be behind these bars. Please have mercy", he pleaded.

The researcher smirked. "Always remember your place. You will never have what we have. No human will ever want you, not even as a pet- definitely not as a lover. Remember this- your barely human, and will never be treated as such..."

Jimin was heavily drugged up, laid out on the surgery table. However, what the researcher said, his words- Jimin remembered every last bit of it. It still rang in his ears. You will never be treated as human...

And so, if I'm not going to be treated as one, why try and act like one? Why not let my wolf counterpart take over? These thoughts dangled over Jimin's head. And with those thoughts, he used every last bit of his strength to stab one of the researchers with a knife- the same knife they were gonna use to rip him open.

Namjoon grabbed the other man through the metal bars, choking him until his eyes rolled backwards. Jimin rolled off of the table, and the rest is a blur.

Next thing they knew, the men in lab coats were dead, and all of the hybrids in the lab were freed by Jimin's hands. With how weak he was, it truly was a miracle. He saved the lives of over a hundred hybrids.

The next few months after, these hybrids hid in the woods, using their primal instincts to survive. Maybe those men were right. Maybe they were never human to begin with.

That's what they thought, but those thoughts went away when they met you. The person who was kind enough to let them in their home, give the somewhere to rest their head. It was you. You were their person.

But sadly, you couldn't erase the damage that had been done. You couldn't get rid of the bad memories, the mistreatment. And that moment you showed a bit of affection for Jimin, he was elated, but the voices started speaking to him.

And then men in the lab coats came to him saying, this won't last forever...

***

"Why didn't you tell me? I don't ever want to make you uncomfortable in any way!"

Jimin told you his story, his deep-rooted fears. You both laid in a field of daisies as he confided in you. It's difficult for you to explain the emotions you were feeling as he told his past. Sympathy? Rage? Both?

"Because... A part of me- actually all of me wanted to. I want to be yours. But the thoughts- they're stuck in my brain and resurface every time I get even a little bit of hope." Jimin's head hung low, picking the flowers from the fresh soiling and plucking each petal one by one.

She loves me...she loves me not... she might love me?

You grabbed his hands gently, holding them between yours. "Look at me", you asked him softly. He obeyed, of course.

"You are half wolf, that part is true. But Park Jimin, you are human! You more human than any human I've ever encountered! You're kind, charismatic, and the most thoughtful person I have ever met.

Your words brought tears to his eyes, and seeing him cry made you eyes swell, too. You enveloped him, hugged him tightly- but not too tight. Just enough to show how much you mean it. Then you placed a loving kiss on his forehead.

"You deserve this, Minnie." The new nickname perked his ears. You could tell he liked it. "You deserve life. An amazing fucking life."

"T-thank you", he whispered. "I- I can't thank you enough."

"Don't thank me. Just get better. Seeing you hurt makes me hurt. And seeing you scared makes me scared. I swear on everything I love that you will never go back there, or anywhere."

"But, once Joon is ready, we'll be gone", Jimin confessed. "I don't want to leave, but he also has his own story to tell."

You pondered, never daring to remove Jimin from your grasp. Maybe you can convince him to stay permanently? Maybe there is something you can do to ease the pain...

"Don't worry your pretty little head, just rest." You gave his hair a fluff, earning a cheesy smile from him. And just like that, you both napped in the field of daisy, his arms wrapped around your waist and your hands holding his head close to your chest.

You have to make things right...

~Taglist! (closing soon!!)

@yoongicatcat @wifflepuff1344 @unwillingly-oblivious @shycreationdreamland @emer-syn @rinkud @amimami1991 @singukieee @nikkiordonez12 @xicanacorpse @cestlabellemort @whipwhoops @spider-thot0115 @ddaeng-angmoh @silscintilla @readerofallthingss @welcometomyworld13 @danielle143 @kookiesbunny @yoongiigolden @woozixo@anaspectoflife @blackrockshooter780 @famousdelusionobservation @jewishmommy @talyaaas-blog @eashmo @jaiele @kaceypdf @reallysparklychaos

~Permanent taglist!

@famousdelusionobservation @marblemoonstones @stupendousliteraturewritingoaf @fearnotfimmie @v-love @tired7o7

[homeofhousechickens]

Id say its well known birds don't do well with lactose but the other nutrients in diary products are super useful for chickens. Historically, and even now it isn't uncommon for chickens to be given surplus dairy products/byproducts because the calcium and fat helps the hens gain more weight and lay better eggs.

Now historically they werent just giving straight milk to birds they were mixing it into their feed ration then feeding it. Milk fed broilers were even a delicacy back then because more people had access to their own dairy animals so the chickens got the dairy byproducts as well.

So basically I just want you to know that feeding some yogurt to your chickens as a treat isn't going to make them spontaneously combust and die, yeah they might have some stinky poos afterwards like some people do themselves after drinking milk but their are much worse things chickens are given that look healthy to people just because its green (grass clippings for example)

There is even some interesting studies that show milk feeding sick chickens can prevent and stop Coccidosis and Necrotic Enteritis which is like huge?? Especially if your an organic farm?

Chickens are domesticated animals and historically were usually fed similar to pigs, they were given the food waste we didn't want and they have evolved to be able to handle that.

Please keep in mind this post is specifically about chickens and not other poultry! I'm also not saying go milk feed your birds I'm just saying that a little dairy product based treat every now and again isn't a bad thing and in fact can be something you can use to help prevent food waste.

Things to keep in mind- Chickens who have dairy products mixed into their feed tend to consume more of that feed. This can be a great thing or a bad thing depending on how you feed and manage your birds. Fatty liver is something you want to watch out for when adding any high fat feed additives to your chickens diet. This is a modern problem for our modern birds since they are more feed efficient than ever.

[sad-emo-dip-dye]

This is my hc on whether the ada would like stardew valley cause I’m excited for the new update and have been playing recently

Kenji: yes! he would find it very fun and would ramble off animal facts and how they used to farm in his hometown, I think it would make him miss home a little bit tho

Kunikida: yes, absolutely yes. He would have the most efficient and streamlined farm imaginable. I think he would even start writing tips in his notebook from wiki when he needed them. He would have to create a designated stardew playtime into his schedule so he doesn’t get too carried away

Dazai: I feel like he would like it but it would be something he plays late at night when he can’t sleep. And he terrorizes the villagers. And he also somehow has insane production rates that piss kuni off but won’t say how he does it and kuni doesn’t want to give in and ask

Atsushi and Kyouka would have a co-op farm and have a whole coop full of rabbits and I feel like they would spend most of their time decorating

Ranpo: he’d think there’s no real challenge and it’s ‘too much work’ though I do feel like kenji would get him invested in the villager tea

Yosano: idk I think it’s 50/50 for her, either she’s persuaded by the others for its cutesy little charm or she wished there were more blood and guts involved

Naomi and Junichiro also have a co-op that sometimes they invite atsushi to but I feel like it’s something they play after school/work to de-stress and chill out

As soon as you tell fukuzawa there’s a cat option and a tea room I feel like hed be invested. He won’t tell anyone tho

[beautification-tales]

The Farmer’s Daughter

A Getting Fit Tale

The sun was just beginning to rise, its pale orange light casting a warm glow over the rolling hills of Daisy's family's farm. She yawned, stretching her arms above her head, and peered out the window of her little room in the farmhouse. The air was crisp and clean, filled with the sweet smell of freshly mown grass and the earthy scent of soil turned over for the planting season. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and threw on a t shirt and overalls, her favorite old sneakers already waiting by the door.

Daisy padded downstairs, her feet sinking into the softness of the worn carpet. The smell of coffee filled her nose, and the sound of her father's voice drifted from the kitchen. "Morning, Dad," she called, pushing open the swinging door and stepping into the brightly lit room. Her father, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a weathered face and kind eyes, looked up from where he was pouring coffee into a mug.

"Morning, pumpkin," he replied with a smile. "Ready to tackle the day?" Daisy nodded, taking a mug of coffee from the counter. "You know it," she said, feeling a surge of energy from the warm liquid. "What's on the agenda today?"

“Well me and Billy will fill the barn today. I think maybe you can take it easy today.” Daisy's father said, as he took a sip of his coffee. Daisy shook her head, "No, I'm fine, Dad. I'm more than able to help." She replied, as she headed for the door. "Let me just get my jacket."

The air outside was crisp and cold, a light breeze rustling the leaves on the trees. Daisy zipped up her jacket, pulled her hat down over her ears, and made her way over to where her father and Billy were already hard at work. The two men were standing beside a large wagon, filling burlap sacks with fresh hay from a nearby field. Daisy took her place at the front of the wagon and began to pitch the hay into the sacks, her movements efficient and practiced.

After just a few minutes Daisy was already feeling fatigued. Billy noticed immediately and smiled. "You sure you're alright,Miss Daisy? You don't have to do this if you're feeling tired." He offered, pausing in his work to look at her. Daisy shook her head, not wanting to admit she was struggling. "I'm fine, really," she insisted, her voice a little less steady than usual. "I just need to catch my breath, that's all."Daisy’s Dad stopped his work and noticed Daisy’s labored breathing. “Honey, that’s enough for you today. Why don't you go inside and rest up ok?” He said, concern etched on his face. Daisy hesitated, but the exhaustion was becoming overwhelming. She nodded reluctantly and headed back to the house, her steps slower and more sluggish than before.

Daisy kicked a rock as she went up the stairs to the house. She looked back and watched Billy and her father do the work with ease. Billy’s shirt was drenched with sweat as he removed it and put his baseball cap on his head. Daisy gulped as she watched him work. They hired Billy to help work the land as her father got older. She had hoped to be the one to help but Daisy had been petite all her life. Her father also treating her like she was fragile didn’t help either.

Despite being 20 years old she felt like a child as she went back inside the house. She slumped into a chair as she struggled to catch her breath. Life had been so cruel to her. She was born prematurely as her mother passed away giving birth to her. Her father raised her single-handedly and she was always trying to repay him. She tried to be strong for him. Daisy felt like a burden as she always needed to be taken care of. So many times her weak heart caused long hospital stays and her father would stay by her bed every night. Sometimes she wished she could just be normal. She wished she was still outside helping her dad and flirting with Billy.

Her father came inside and noticed how pale she looked. He went to the kitchen and returned with a cool glass of lemonade. "Here, sweetheart, drink this and get some rest. You'll feel better soon." Daisy took the lemonade gratefully and sipped it, the cool liquid helping to ease her throat. She looked up at her father, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Dad. I tried to be strong, but I just couldn't do it today." He knelt down beside her chair and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Shh... shh... it's okay, pumpkin. You're not a machine. You don't have to be strong all the time. We'll find a way to manage, okay?" She nodded, the tears spilling over and running down her cheeks. "I love you, Dad," she whispered. "I love you too, Daisy. And remember, no matter what, I'll always be here for you."

The conversation was the straw that broke the camel’s back. She couldn’t let her father down again. She ran to her room and opened the gift box she received from her cousin. She read the note again. “Hey Cuz, this steroid changed my life. I had to share it with you. Trust me it works. Love Courtney. P.S. tell Billy I said ‘Hi’” Daisy's hands trembled as she took out the small vial of steroids. Her heart raced, but she knew she had to do it. For her father, and for herself. She hesitated for a moment, but then steeled her resolve.

She pointed the syringe at her thigh and slowly injected the steroids into her skin. It was a cold, hard prick that made her wince. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to breathe. The steroids were supposed to make her stronger, but right now, they felt like poison coursing through her veins. She lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

The next few day Daisy jumped out of bed at the sound of the rooster. Daisy ran downstairs to make coffee for her father and Billy. She felt rejuvenated and her chest didn't hurt as much. She could breathe easier and felt stronger. She wondered if it was just a placebo effect or if the steroids were actually working. As she filled the coffee pot, she glanced out the window and saw Billy working on the field. He was shirtless, sweat glistening on his muscular frame. Daisy couldn't help but stare, her heart racing. She quickly turned away, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks.

“Good morning baby girl. You're up early today." Her father smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You want some eggs or something?" He asked, motioning to the stove where a frying pan sizzled. “Dad, don’t worry I got it.” She moved gracefully around the kitchen, preparing breakfast. The energy she felt was almost intoxicating. She wondered if the steroids were really making her feel this good. She felt her heart pumping faster and faster but it didn’t ache as it usually did.

“Daisy can you tell Billy to take care of the chores solo today. I pushed myself too hard yesterday.” He rubbed his neck wincing in pain. Daisy gave her father a worried look that he understood so well. “Aw don’t look at me like that. It’s nothing to worry about. I’m… just not as young as I used to be. Plus Billy can handle it.” He looked out the window and smiled. “Boy is strong like an ox.”

Daisy went outside as her father went upstairs to rest. She knew that Billy could handle it but so much more could be done if she helped. She approached Billy as he was carrying a bale of hay and smiled shyly. "Hey Billy, I'm sorry to bother you but I just wanted to say that I'm here to help if you need it." He looked up at her, his blue eyes meeting hers. "Oh, it's okay Miss Daisy. I've got it under control." He said with a small smile, trying to reassure her.

“Well I’m helping anyway.” Daisy said as she began to assist with chores. The sun beat down on them, making the air thick with humidity. Sweat trickled down their backs as they worked side by side. They didn't speak much, but there was an understanding between them. They were both trying to help her father, in their own ways. And somehow, with Daisy's newfound energy, it felt like they were making progress.

Billy had a look of surprise as Daisy was usually exhausted and inside by now. He was hoping she didn’t push herself too hard and pass out like she had done in the past. Daisy smiled as felt amazing as her heartbeat raced, not from fatigue, but from excitement. Daisy was beginning to breathe heavily as she took a moment to watch Billy at work. He was so strong and muscular, it was hard not to stare.

Daisy felt her heart pound within her chest as she gasped for air. She put her hand on her chest as she felt her heart jumping like it would explode. It was harder for her to catch her breath as she looked at Billy. She could feel the heat spreading across her face as she felt a bit lightheaded. “No I can’t pass out again.” She thought to herself as she tried to calm down.

She felt like a passenger in her body as it was out of her control. She gasped for air as if she was having an asthma attack. Billy noticed and rushed over to Daisy. "Hey, are you alright?" He asked, concern etched on his face. Daisy nodded, but she couldn't speak as her chest still heaved for air. Billy helped her sit down on a nearby bale of hay and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Listen, I’ll go get you some water.” He said before dashing off toward the house.

Daisy didn’t know what was wrong with her. She had never felt this way before. As she sat there, trying to catch her breath. She felt her breasts push out as her labored breathing continued. She looked down as she could see they had kept increasing in size as she felt a new weight on her chest. Her t-shirt was stretching as her overalls pressed into her bigger bosom. Daisy grabbed one as electricity flowed from her breasts throughout her body.

“Ohh God!” She moaned as she felt her arms and legs grow. Daisy noticed her labored breathing was starting to sound …. Different. In a matter of moments Daisy was a taller frame with toned muscle filling out her appendages. Thick thighs dug into her Jean shorts as her fatter ass filled them out more. It all happened so quickly that Daisy didn’t know what to think. Especially when Billy came back with three bottles of water.

She looked down and gasped. She had grown several inches, her breasts were easily twice the size they were, her ass was fuller, and her thighs were massive. She couldn't believe it. Billy placed the bottles of water down on the ground, looking up at her in shock. "D-Daisy?" he stammered. She tried to speak, but no words came out. She felt a strange weight in her chest, almost like a new organ had grown there.

Daisy felt thirsty as she grabbed one bottle as it rolled to her. She twisted the cap off as she guzzled the bottle as water trickled down her chin and wetting her chest. Daisy repeated this again with another bottle as Billy looked on with his jaw to the floor.

“What happened to you? A..are you ok? Miss Daisy?” Billy stammered, struggling to find the words. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Daisy's chest had grown immensely, her once small breasts now filling out her overalls and straining against the fabric. She looked up at him with wide, concerned eyes, her face flushed from exertion and excitement.

“Billy, I feel really good” Daisy managed to say between gulps of water. Her voice was deeper and more feminine than before. Billy couldn't help but stare at her chest as she spoke, taking in the sight of her full breasts spilling out of her overalls. He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. "Are you sure you're feeling okay? Because you look, well, different."

Daisy set the last bottle of water down and stood up, stretching her arms above her head. Her muscles rippled beneath her skin, and she felt stronger than ever before. She looked down at her body, taking in the curves that had emerged overnight. Her hips swayed as she walked toward Billy, her thighs rubbing together with each step.

“I think my heart might be in trouble. I need you to help me.” Daisy said, her voice still deeper and more feminine. Billy swallowed hard, his eyes still locked on her chest. He nodded, trying to focus on what she was saying. "Okay, what do you need me to do.” Billy said with a concerned tone.

Daisy got close to Billy and grabbed his hand and placed it on her chest. “Do I feel ok?” she asked him with a coy smile. Billy's heart raced as his hand touched her soft, warm skin. He could feel her heart beating strongly beneath her breast. It was a strange sensation, but it felt nice. “Umm yes” he stammered, looking into her deep blue eyes.

She guided his hand onto her breasts as her nipple hardened and brushed up against him. "Then you feel my heartbeat, don't you? It's so strong." She leaned closer, her breasts pressing against his chest. "I feel so alive, so… powerful.” She looked up into his eyes, her expression a mixture of wonder and desire.

Daisy grabbed onto Billy’s chest and bit her lip. “Billy, take me to the barn and fuck me.” She whispered. Her voice was husky and commanding, and it sent shivers down his spine. He could feel the heat emanating from her body, and his pants grew tighter as he became aroused. He nodded dumbly, unable to form any words as he followed her back to the barn.

Inside the dimly lit barn, they found an old haystack in a corner. Daisy kicked aside some of the hay, revealing a soft, warm surface beneath. She pushed Billy onto his back and straddled his hips, her chest heaving with anticipation. She reached down and undid his pants, freeing his erection. She undid the straps of her overalls and let her panties fall down.

With one smooth motion, she guided his cock into her pussy. It felt so good to finally feel him inside her, filling her up. She began to move her hips in a slow, sensual rhythm, grinding against him as their skin slapped together. Billy wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling the heat emanating from her body as she rode him.

Daisy leaned forward, her breasts swaying in front of Billy's face. She reached down and pinched her nipples, sending waves of pleasure through her body. "Oh god, Billy..." she moaned, her voice husky and demanding. "I need you to touch me."

Billy wrapped his hands around her hips, feeling the smooth, firm skin beneath his fingers. He pressed his thumbs into her hipbones, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. Their rhythm became faster and more urgent, as if they were both trying to reach some sort of climax. He grasped her melons as she felt another jolt of electricity pass through her body. She arched her back, her breasts spilling out of her t- shirt, and let out a moan that seemed to echo through the barn.

As they moved together, Billy could feel the muscles in her thighs and ass tighten, and he knew that she was close. He thrust harder, driving himself deeper inside her, wanting to feel the heat and the power of her orgasm. Daisy cried out, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as her body tensed and she came, her pussy clenching tightly around him.

He continued to thrust, lost in the sensation of her body moving against his, feeling her orgasm wash over him. His hips bucked wildly, and he groaned in satisfaction as he felt his own release building inside him. She reached down, took his cock in her hand, and began to stroke him in time with their movements, urging him over the edge. She knelt in front of him as Billy twitched in her hands.

“I want you to cum on these big beautiful tits Billy.” Daisy whispered into his ear, her breath hot and heavy. His thrusts became more erratic as he felt his climax approaching. She arched her back further, offering her perfect breasts to him as he reached down and grasped one, squeezing it tightly. His hips bucked wildly as he released his seed onto her breast, coating her nipple and the surrounding skin with his warm cum.

Daisy took her finger and tasted his seed. It was salty and sweet on her tongue. She looked up at Billy, their eyes locked together.

“Billy? Stacey? Are you both in here?”

Their hearts stopped as they realized her father was looking for them. Billy got dressed in a flash and met him and lead him outside.

“Trust me Mr. Culver, don’t worry about Daisy today. She is definitely working hard. Yes really! Of course she milked me… I mean the cow… the cow”

Daisy laughed as she hears Billy distract her father as she got dressed and tiptoed to the cow.