Ebony Mistress

Synopsis: The prized Bull at Kong Farm gets a pretty little cow for his Rut. Being the mate of Toji Fushiguro comes with perks and pains.

Warnings: Smut, Plus-size Reader described, Age difference, Hybrid AU, Breeding, breeding rack, dub-con, size difference, tummy bulge, urine, pregnancy.

A/n: I saw someone on TikTok request a story like this, and it inspired me LOL. Vampire Bat!Hybrid Choso story here!

Shiu Kong’s farm was a quiet place. Until Bull Toji arrived.

The bull hybrid was massive, built like a warhorse with thick, corded muscle beneath dark hide and scars earned in too many fights. The gleaming silver septum ring in his nose had been ripped out more than once. He was a fuckin’ beast. He had no patience for fences, no respect for gates. Only Shiu’s firm voice kept him from tearing the whole damn barn down when his rut hit hard each season.

“Got ya somethin’," Shiu had told him last week while Toji chewed lazily on an apple between blunt teeth. “Pretty little cow hybrid." A smirk twisted Shiu's mouth as he leaned against the stall. “Thought ya might wanna break her in before spring."

Toji hadn't answered. Just watched with half-lidded eyes as you were led into the barn, small and trembling under your new owner’s grip. You smelled like fresh hay and fear, horns still stubby from youth but already curving sweetly beneath your tousled hair.

Now you stood frozen in the middle of his pen as Toji circled you slow, hot breath fogging against your nape while calloused fingers traced the dip of your waist.

“Cute,” he rumbled at last, “…but yer shakin’. Ain't gotta be scared.”

Toji was used to the hard life, used to a world made hard and brutal by endless violence.

You were different. You were made soft, pliable by life in a cage. You still smelled like milk for godsake.

Your tail flickers when you’re anxious, swishing slow and uncertain behind you like a nervous afterthought.

He sees the way your thighs press together when you walk, plush and soft from easy living before Shiu bought you. Sees how your waist nips in just enough for his hands to span it completely before flaring out into hips meant for breeding.

A cow hybrid’s body is made for this. Made to be mounted. Made to take whatever he gives.

And oh, does he love the little details of your appearance. The smudge of pink at your nose that darkens when you blush

The way milk still lingers sweet in the air. Even though no calf has ever suckled from those heavy tits yet.

‘That part,’ he thinks with a smirk, ‘-he’ll fix soon enough.’

Toji's eyes never leave you as he leans against the hay bales, broad shoulders dwarfing the stall. Shiu stands beside him on the outside of the fence, cigar dangling from his lips.

“Who sold her to ya," Toji mutters. “And how much did she cost?”

Shiu just shrugs, looking unbothered as ever. “The breeder went broke. Needed cash."

Shiu steps into the pen, the gate creaking behind him. His fingers curl around your wrist first, yanking you forward without ceremony before turning you toward Toji like a prized heifer on auction day.

“Good hips," Shiu notes casually, his free hand palming the curve of your ass with a rough squeeze. “Wide enough for easy birthin’. Ain’t had no calves yet, but that just means she's fresh."

He spins you around by your shoulders next, fingers tugging at one of your small horns to tilt your face up toward Toji. “Teeth are strong," he continues, thumb pressing against your bottom lip until you part them obediently. “No issues chewin’ cud or takin' feed. Healthy."

He hooks two fingers into the neckline of your dress and yanks it down just enough to expose the heavy swell of your tits beneath. “See?" Shiu grins at Toji over your shoulder. “Already fillin’ out nice. Give ‘er a season or two under ya? She'll be leakin' milk on command."

Shiu exhales through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck as he eyes Toji with rare caution. “Look, I know ya like takin’ ‘em rough," he starts slowly, “-but she ain't built for that yet. Not like the seasoned broodmares ya usually get."

Toji’s nostrils flare, a sharp huff of irritation, but Shiu doesn’t back down. Instead, he jerks his chin toward the far corner of the barn where an old but sturdy breeding rack sits dusted off and waiting. Thick leather straps dangling from its frame to secure legs apart, padding along the bar where your belly would rest once bent over it.

“Two days," Shiu says firmly. “Let ‘er get used to yer scent first. Feed from yer hand if ya have to. Or she won't survive your first knot."

Toji's silence is dangerous, a low rumble building in his chest before he finally snorts and turns away with a jerk of his head. “Fine.”

Toji takes his time the following two days: getting you used to his scent, letting you feed from his hand like Shiu suggested.

He learns your habits like a hunter who knows his prey. Knows how your eyes flutter when he speaks. Knows how you flinch and shy away when he moves suddenly. Knows how he can make you tremble by leaning close. Knows how to make you whine just by touching the base of your tail.

And the entire time? You can smell his interest. His hunger.

Day three arrives with the sharp scent of antiseptic and oiled leather.

Shiu stands at your left, calloused hands guiding you toward the rack with ease.

The veterinarian, a no-nonsense woman with a stethoscope looped around her neck, adjusts the straps. Your hooves scuff against the wooden floor as they position you over the padded bar, belly-down, hindquarters raised obscenely high for Toji’s access.

“Easy now," Shiu soothes. "Ain't gonna hurt more than it needs to."

You’ve heard stories. You know exactly what happens to cow hybrids on breeding racks when bulls like Toji mount them.

The vet fastens thick cuffs around your wrists first, then your ankles, each strap pulled snug enough to bruise before she steps back to assess her work. “Good pelvic tilt," she notes dispassionately. “Won't tear as easy."

Then she turns toward Toji, who has been watching all this from the corner like a silent storm cloud and gives a curt nod. “She's ready."

Shiu’s fingers are rough as they grab the base of your tail, lifting it high with a firm tug. The sudden exposure makes you jerk against the restraints, but there’s nowhere to go, no way to hide.

The vet hands Shiu a thin, braided rope, something used to keep tails out of the way during examinations. He loops it around your lifted appendage, securing it upward so nothing obstructs the view between your thighs.

Your cunt is on full display now: plush and swollen, already glistening with nervous arousal despite your fear. Cow hybrids drip when they are stressed. A biological cruelty that leaves you shamefully slick as Toji’s shadow looms closer behind you. Your folds flutter under their assessing gazes, clenching around nothing while Shiu tsks and thumbs at your entrance like he’s testing fruit for ripeness.

“Tight," he muses, “...but she's wet enough."

The vet hums in agreement before reaching down to spread you wider with two clinical fingers. “No abnormalities," she declares. “Virgin passage is intact. Bull shouldn't have trouble sinking his knot once she's open."

Shiu doesn’t waste time. With a grunt, he nudges Toji’s shoulder, a silent command for the bull hybrid to step back just far enough for him to work.

Toji snorts in irritation but complies, his heavy-lidded gaze never leaving your trembling form strapped over the rack. Shiu grabs the industrial-sized pump bottle of lubricant from the vet’s tray.

“Gotta make sure ya don't split her in half, Shiu mutters, squeezing a thick stream onto his palm before reaching between Toji’s legs with zero ceremony.

He fists the bull hybrid’s already-hard cock without warning, working the lube down his length with rough efficiency. Toji’s hips jerk forward instinctively into the friction.

“Fuck—” Toji growls, muscles tensing as precum beads at his tip and drips onto straw-littered floor below. “Ain't gotta fuckin' mollycoddle it.”

Shiu ignores him, just keeps stroking until every inch of that monstrous erection gleams.

He finally steps aside with a slap against Toji's ass. “Go on then."

Toji doesn’t slam into you right away, no, he teases first. The broad, flared head of his cock drags slow and deliberate between your plush folds, smearing your own slickness back against you.

He can feel how tight you are even at this shallow pressure, your walls already twitching in reflexive panic around nothing.

“Fuckin’ choke on it already,” he growls. Even as the words leave his mouth, he rocks forward just enough for that fat tip to catch. It stretches your weeping hole wide for one glorious second before retreating again.

He won’t rush. Not when Shiu was right about how easily you might break. But that doesn't mean he'll be gentle either, just methodical. He’s working that thick crown against your clenching hole over and over until the lube mixes with hybrid arousal and drips down your inner thighs.

You whimper as the first real press of his cockhead nudges against your entrance, burning with the stretch even through the lube. Instinct takes over before shame can. Your hips jerk in a weak attempt to twist away, hooves scrambling uselessly against the wooden rack.

Toji’s grip on your waist tightens like a vice, claws biting in deep enough to draw pinpricks of blood. “Nuh-uh," he growls. "Ain't runnin' from this."

And then, with one brutal roll of his hips, he sinks into you past that impossible rim. Your body splits open around him in a white-hot flare of pain-pleasure that steals your breath.

The bellow of pain makes your ears pin back. But Toji doesn’t stop. He just bottoms out inside you with a groan so visceral it shakes the dust from the rafters above.

Shiu whistles. “Damn, she took all that?"

Toji nuzzles between your trembling shoulder blades. "Knew ya could take it. Filthy girl.”

His hips piston forward with a force that rattles the breeding rack’s wooden frame. Each brutal thrust makes the leather straps groan under tension as your body is jerked back onto him over and over.

Your dangling hooves scrabble for purchase but find none; all you can do is hang there, impaled and shaking while Toji takes what he wants in deep, grinding strokes. The wet slap of skin on skin echoes through the barn like an obscene metronome.

It’s only drowned out by Toji’s ragged breaths against your neck. His teeth are latched onto your nape in a mating bite.

“Fuck—“ he snarls.

It should hurt. It does hurt. At first.

Your walls flutter wildly around Toji’s girth, spasming in protest as he stretches you out.

Then your hybrid biology kicks in, ruthless and efficient. Heat floods your core as your cervix softens on instinct, widening for his cock like a flower for the sun.

Slickness gushes around each thrust, not just lube now but the thick, fertile cream of a cow hybrid in prime breeding condition.

Your body knows its purpose. Even your womb betrays you. Your walls are clenching down greedily every time his tip bumps your cervix, it like it's trying to milk him dry already.

Toji feels it too, his rhythm stuttering when you suddenly squeeze around him with hunger. “Shit—” he stutters, “-fuckin’ greedy lil’ bitch.”

Words fail you, language devolving into broken, animalistic sounds as Toji’s cock punches deeper with every thrust. Drool strings from your lips, pooling on the padded rack beneath you while tears and snot streak your flushed face.

“M-Mmmh—! Your back arches helplessly when his knot starts to catch at your rim, thighs trembling as a pathetic moo rips from your throat. "’J-ji! ‘Ji!—p-please!”

But what are you even begging for? More? Less? You don’t know anymore. All that exists is the stretch of him splitting you open, the way your plush belly bulges with each thrust.

Your nails splinter wood from the rack as another moan-turned-mooo spills out. “S’good,” Toji rumbles against your spine, “-fuckin’ take it.”

Your tongue lolls out past your lips, slick and pink. It’s a telltale sign of a cow hybrid pushed too far into instinct.

Saliva drips in thin strands onto the padded rack beneath you, each panting breath only making it worse. Your eyes have gone glassy, unfocused. Your pupils are blown wide in need.

Shiu notices first. He leans against the barn post with crossed arms, chewing lazily on a stalk of hay before nodding toward your slack mouth. “Watch it,” he warns Toji. “She’s ‘bout to tip over.”

He means your climax. The way cow hybrids lose all control when they hit that edge: thrashing, moaning, sometimes even pissing themselves from the sheer overload of sensation.

Sure enough, your thighs start quivering like bowstrings pulled taut as another broken moo spills from your spit-slick lips.

Toji snarls at the warning but doesn’t slow down. If anything he fucks into you harder. “Yeah? Then fuckin’ cum,” he growls. “Wanna feel that cunt milk me dry ‘fore I knot ya.”

Your mind is gone. It’s drowned under a tidal wave of sensation that reduces you to nothing but flesh and instinct. Your tongue lolls out further, spit dripping in thick ropes onto the straw-littered floor beneath the rack.

Every breath comes as a shuddering moan, every thrust wrings another pathetic moo from your throat like your voice isn’t even yours anymore. “Hhhnn—‘Jiiiii!”

Shiu watches with a chuckle, patting the stall door with his palm. "There it is," he mutters around a new cigarette before nodding at Toji. “She's lockin' up."

The orgasm crashes over you like a seizure. You scream around the drool coating your chin. "MMMOOOO—!"

The vet gives a sharp nod that Shiu moving through the gate. His calloused hands clamp down on your hips, not to save you, but to hold you still. Toji’s thrusts turn jagged and brutal, each snap of his hips forcing that thickening knot against your abused entrance. Your body fights it instinctively, clamping down in protest even as your orgasm still wrings dizzying pulses of pleasure from your core.

“N-No—NO! MMMFH—OOOO!”

The stretch burns like fire as your cunt is spread so wet and sticky against the swell. Toji growls through clenched teeth, lifts a hooves to plant close to your head at an angle and shoves the rest of the way inside.

You don’t even realize you’ve pissed yourself until warm liquid splatters onto the floor beneath the rack. Overstimulation is short-circuiting your bladder along with everything else.

Shiu just grunts and tightens his grip, keeping you upright as Toji rumbles in satisfaction behind you, “Fuckkkk, there ya go.” His palm splays over your lower belly where his cock visibly distends it from within.

The moment Toji’s knot locks, your body goes slack, limp as a ragdoll between them, trembling with oversensitivity and exhaustion. Shiu chuckles as he reaches for a nearby rag, swiping it roughly over your piss-streaked thighs. “Damn, girl," he chuckles, “Didn't know we'd have to hose down the whole fuckin' barn after."

Toji, still buried balls feel, leans down to nuzzle at the sweaty hair hair sticking to your neck. “Shhh,” he soothes. “Took it so good.” He lands lazy kisses against your neck. “‘Cept for the piss part.”

Shiu barks out a laugh while tossing the soiled rag aside. “First time's always messy," he shrugs before offering you a sip of water from an old canteen.

Months later, you’re round with the proof of Toji’s claim. Your belly swells round and heavy with his calf, skin stretched taut over fertile curves that jiggle with every step. The farmhands whisper when they think you can't hear. “Toji stuffed her full.”

Toji adores you like this. Slow-moving and sleepy-eyed. Milk-heavy tits swayed beneath the frilly bows Shiu begrudgingly buys for you at market. The little brass bell around your neck chimes sweetly whenever Toji guides you by the horns to feed from his palm like some pampered prize.

He drapes you in soft cotton dresses, the fabric straining over milk-heavy tits and wide hips that sway with every step. Your ribbons are always perfectly tied, pink satin bows nestled between your horns or threaded through the bell around your neck.

And god, does he love leading you. His calloused hands are always on you, guiding you to kneel so he can palm the curve of your stomach or tugging you into his lap. He gropes those swollen udders until warm milk beads at your nipples. “Lookit that,” the white liquid spills over his thick fingers. “All pretty ‘n leaky just for me.”

Even Shiu has softened in his own way, sneaking extra sugar cubes into your feed bucket when Toji isn’t looking. “Quit spoilin’ her,” Toji snaps before handing you a ripe apple.

Now, they wait until that calf comes so you can be bred all over again.

Jill Marie Jones as Toni Childs in Girlfriends (2001)