A New Kind Of Grind

 

My alarm went off, and, with a grunt of effort, I forced myself out of bed, and into a robe; my hosts had been gracious enough to clothe me when I came to them without even a hat to hold in my hand, which I reminded myself of every time I was grumpy about having to wake up at four in the morning every morning to milk the cowgirls.

My name is Roxy Updyke. I lived in the apartment of the Sakurai family, which was composed of three people: Haruna Sakurai, a human omega with the Rancher and Blacksmith classes; Usagi Sakurai, Haruna's familiar and wife, an awakened bunnygirl beta exemplar with the Farmer and Mystic Artificer classes; and Akane Sakurai, their young adult daughter, a human omega with the Wizard class, and the only person in this household who did not have to wake up at four in the morning because she was an initiate in the Delver's Guild, and thus got to have as much rest as she wanted.

Well, okay, Akane was hardly lazy; she was a college student in a college that taught you how to most efficiently slaughter your way through dungeons full of monsters. If she decided to wake up at six in the morning instead of four in the morning so she could better use the energy of the early day to stay alert in class and have more time after it to study up, that didn't make her a layabout. But, well, no matter how sweet and personable Akane may be, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the fact she got to be in the Delver's Guild, whereas I failed my entrance exam and had to go get a real job.

Okay, so I'm bitter. Sue me. I got isekai'd into a world of LitRPG and sexy people and then informed that I still had to be working class. You'd be pissed too if you were suddenly a Wizard, but not enough of one to avoid having to become a longshoreman.

I sighed, and shook my head, pushing open the door to the cowgirl room. You'd think that an urban farmer/rancher would pick, for their livestock, something very small and versatile, like chickens or even pigeons. A source of meat, eggs, and feathers. But nope! There were plenty of other urban farmer/ranchers in this apartment complex who had poultry we could get those things from in barter, and so Haruna got to be special, and kept cowgirls instead.

In complete fairness to Haruna, I could understand why she'd want to keep cowgirls. Her herd of sixteen was made up entirely of beta exemplars just like her bunnygirl wife, and... I should explain what that actually means. See, here, there're three broadly-recognized sexes/genders: omegas, who only have vaginas and tend to be short and curvy; alphas, who only have penises and tend to be tall, muscular, and not very curvy; and betas, who have both and exist somewhere in-between. Beta exemplars were an uncommon phenotype of

betas, who were, instead of the halfway house between alpha and omega, as tall as alphas while being as curvy as omegas.

And so, while it was totally worth acknowledging the horns, the cow-like ears, the skin patterning that resembled the traditional holstein cowprint, and how some seemed to have varying amounts of fur on their shins and forearms, you'll have to forgive me for being a little more focused on how these sexy furries all had thick thighs and fat asses and tits bigger than their head, and I got to spend an hour each morning productively fondling those tits.

First, though, I had to sanitize everything. "[Magic Trick,]" I cast, focusing not just on the bucket but on the two barrels as well. There, all clean. [Magic Trick] was the first spell I'd learned as a Wizard, and I was very, very grateful for it, as one of the tricks it could perform was cleaning stuff, which, funnily enough, could include people if you were willing to use enough magic.

With my milk receptacles cleaned, I sat down on my milking stool, grabbed my first cowgirl of the day, and pulled her into my lap. Her tits were heavy and swollen, sloshing almost audibly with the milk trapped inside as I gently massaged them; she hadn't been milked since yesterday afternoon, and if she didn't get milked soon, she'd be sore and cranky, and likely would stop producing so much milk.

I formed a c shape with my thumb and forefinger, and placed those on the skin just behind the areolae- a bit of a stretch even for my long piano-fingers, because naturally these big-titty cowgirls also have big ol' nipples- before pulling my hands back, applying moderate pressure towards the ribcage. Almost immediately, I was rewarded with a squirting jet of milk, but as I carefully squeezed with my fingers and rolled them forward, a much, much thicker stream of milk came out, all spurting into the wide-mouthed bucket on the floor in front of us.

I continued this cycle- bring fingers back, apply pressure, bring fingers forward, release pressure- for a few minutes, adjusting the positioning of my hands each time to get at milk ducts I hadn't last time. Soon enough, though, I was done, and the cowgirl was empty, her tits taking on a far softer texture in my hand.

Something I didn't really take the time to relish because, despite me talking a big game about how I got to grope busty cowgirls twice a day, the reality of the situation was that if I took only four minutes to milk a single cow, it would still take me more than an hour to milk all sixteen of the cows, and I just do not have the time to be horny about it. I just had to remind myself, frequently, that yes, this is something worth being horny about, just not acting horny about. I just had to preserve my morning wood until I was done, and could productively do something about it.

Thankfully, while milking cowgirls wasn't quite the bonerous sex-fest I wished it was, it was a simple, repetitive task that took enough of my focus that the time passed quickly, and before I knew it, I'd drained all the cows- who, for reasons I couldn't divine, were split between eight cows with yellow number tags and eight cows with red number tags- and had a big ol' barrel full of milk for my troubles. If I recalled the numbers properly, each cow gave two and a half gallons per milking for a total of five gallons a day, and between the sixteen of them, that meant filling up one of these forty-gallon barrels every time I milked them.

I was glad I knew there was magic and LitRPG bullshit going on, because otherwise I'd be wondering exactly where the fuck the cowgirls were keeping all that milk. I know how much space a gallon of milk takes up; a one-gallon jug is about the size of a human head, and while, sure, these cowgirls did have head-sized tits, those tits weren't just empty sacs that filled up with milk, or else they'd deflate like crazy once I drained them, which they didn't. Clearly, most of that space was taken up by the usual boob stuff- fat and connective tissue, mostly.

But, well, these cowgirls had the Lactation 1 Trait, and it said they gave five gallons of milk a day, so physics be damned, they would be giving five gallons of milk a day.

I opened the door of the cowgirl room and stepped out, pulling the filled milk barrel through the door behind me, before reorienting it to go in front of me, and then closed the door so the cowgirls wouldn't get out. It had been a bit of a struggle to get the Sakurais to agree to my suggestion, but that struggle was absolutely worth it, because it meant I was not struggling to lift this fucking barrel, on account it was already on wheels. Moving it into the kitchen, where Haruna would set about turning it into yogurt for trade, used to involve a whole lot of elbow grease and magical assistance from [Levitate] because four hundred pounds of milk and wood weren't exactly light, but now it was a fairly simple task that just required me to walk carefully, because four hundred pounds of milk and wood weren't easy to stop on a dime.

Once the milk was in the kitchen, I was done with my morning chores, and could retreat to my bedroom, which I usually did pretty quickly to minimize the risk of anyone noticing I had a boner. Which is how, naturally, I ended up accidentally slamming into a bleary-eyed Akane, who was up a bit earlier than usual and had just stepped out of her bedroom.

"Oh, hi Roxy," Akane said, sleepily, wrapping her arms around me. "I love you too."

"Sorry, Akane, didn't mean to run into you like that," I said, reaching up and patting her head, and trying very hard to avoid thinking about the fact that Akane was an absolute bombshell in her own right. The exemplar phenotype was heritable, and in omegas like herself, manifested in being as tall as alphas, with even more curves than more normal omegas had, to preserve the silhouette. Adding to the unfairness of her sex appeal, of course, was the fact that Akane, while ostensibly human, was still visibly half-bunnygirl, which manifested in the most gloriously grabbable breeder's hips ever, perched atop two thickly, powerfully muscled legs that joined in what was quite possibly the most perfect ass ever created.

Shit, now I'm even harder. Okay, ignore my sense of touch, and those exquisitely fat tits she's pressing against me and spilling out of her robe. Look her in the eye like a normal person and focus on her face- oh goddamnit she's still fucking hot.

"Someone's happy to see me," Akane noted, grinning.

"Sorry, it's just morning wood," I said, stepping back and forcibly disentangling the two of us. "I'm gonna do some more reading before I get ready for work; bathroom's all yours." And with that supremely unconvincing excuse, I ignored the fact that her robe had come untied, giving me a nice, unobscured view of her amazing body, which I drank in- I said I ignored that, and darted around her, back into my own room.

I sighed, staring down at my traitorous erection.

"Absolutely not," I whispered down at it. "You will not fuck the landlady's daughter."

It throbbed in rebellion, and I groaned. Fuck. I might as well finish it off; wasting a perfectly good boner just because I did something mildly embarrassing wasn't in the cards for me. I climbed back into my bed- very grateful that, among the many enchantments Usagi had woven into the apartment, were some soundproofing charms to keep us from having to listen to each other snore or, in this case, jerk off- and grabbed a pillow, grumbling under my breath once again about how being circumcised made jerking off unreasonably convoluted; I couldn't just jerk it manually, noooo, I had to hump a pillow and then do magic afterwards to clean it up so I could actually sleep on it.

Still, once I had myself positioned, I didn't have any trouble getting going, and filled my mind with nice, safe images and fantasies of the cowgirls. Milking them one morning, and one of them is very insistent on soliciting affection, with no amount of headpats sating her, and then I realize it's because she wants something more. Groping her for pleasure, rather than business, and then, finally, taking my cock out and finally fucking her. Watching those big, fat tits bounce, along with that big, fat ass, and grabbing those big, attention-grabbing hips-

It wasn't until after I came that I realized that my fantasy had gone from 'fucking one of the cowgirls' to 'fucking Akane in the cowgirl room.' And unfortunately, as I looked at my character sheet, I realized further that I'd gotten more out of that orgasm than I usually did.

See, I wasn't just a Wizard. I had a second class, which I had very much not told anyone about, due to its name: Incubus. It was a class that was... straightforward, but only in a peculiar framework that this whole world happened to exist in. Engage in acts of lust and sensuality- such as milking some cowgirls and then jerking off to your fantasies about them- and earn Reified Lust, the progression currency of the Incubus class. And while I'm sure that, as I level up Incubus, I'll develop more things to spend it on, right now the main sink for Reified Lust was increasing my base stats.

When I'd first arrived in this world, my base stats were mediocre, across-the-board average. Now, though, after three months of living here? My Magic stats were high enough that I'd rival a Level 4 Wizard, all without having leveled up once.

The Delver's Guild held entrance exams twice a year. By the time the next entrance exams rolled around, I'd have a prodigy's stat spread, and I'd pass that test with flying colors. And from there? I would never have to lift another fucking barrel ever again.

I sighed as my second alarm went off, and prepared myself for work. Right now, unfortunately, I'd have to lift a lot of barrels.