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“We appreciate that you have no shortage of options, gentlemen, but we have a feeling that you will find the service we provide here at Morning Glory to be a rung above what you are probably used to. By cutting out the middleman of this operation, Pfizzle Pharmaceuticals has put all of our resources into the client experience and providing a seamless, sterile, expedient process. Our compensation program is very competitive—”
“We’re descended from kings.” The ivory bull spoke again, his voice holding a peevish edge that Rourke sympathized with. “So, it ought to be.”
The sylvan woman’s smile faltered for the space of a heartbeat before she recovered, beaming at their group. “We know this is a pitstop in your schedule, and we are committed to ensuring that we can get you in, get you out, and get you on with your day. I think you will be impressed with the processes we have put in place to ensure that happens every time you visit. Now, if you’ll all follow me . . .”
The room she led them to bore no resemblance to any milking facility he’d ever visited before. They were on a sort of balcony, and stepping closer to the railing, he was able to see a conveyor belt, a bank of cabinets, and there in the center of the room, a reminder that they had more money than sense and a perverse dedication to their farm life aesthetic — a chrome-plated milking machine, an exact replica of the one they’d had on the family farm when he was a kid. The nozzles on each arm of the machine were thick and long, an indication that the young bull from the lobby was going to get his wish, as those were most certainly the strokers he’d be hoping for.
“Our priorities here at Morning Glory are efficiency, sterility, and speed. As you can see, no detail was spared in ensuring that we are able to help you achieve a plentiful, speedy deposit.”
“What’s the conveyor belt for?” a spotted bull to Rourke’s side asked, his heavy brow furrowed.
“The used collection containers. We don’t want our collection technicians to be bogged down with cleaning beyond the rigorous checklist we’ve put into place at the start and end of every appointment. There is a separate janitorial staff, so your time is never impeded by an unprepared room.”
The younger minotaur from the lobby had trooped down a small staircase at the side of the upper deck where they stood after the sylvan woman swept her arm open to indicate they could do so. Rourke could tell from the satisfied grin on the younger bull’s face that he was correct in the assessment that the nozzles on the machine were outfitted with the textured strokers the younger bull had wished for. Itwas, Rourke was forced to admit, an attractive amenity. If one needed to jerk off for cause, the extra stimulation would provide welcome assistance.
“I’m sorry; what are we looking at, exactly?” The ivory bull’s voice still held a shade of acrimoniousness as he swept a big hand around the room. “Is this a semen collection facility, or are you conducting a social experiment? What’s with the viewing deck?”
Their guide’s smile stayed wide, but Rourke noticed that it no longer met her eyes.Good. Enough of the corporate sales pitch, just tell us what all this bullshit is.
“This is not an observation deck, I assure you. This is the room you would enter for your appointment. There’s a coat rack and a small cubby for your clothes and any personal effects you might need to remove, a chair . . . and the breeding bench, of course. The upper portion is where you will remain, gentleman. The lower deck is exclusively accessed by our collection technicians.”
For the first time, he noticed the huge bench at the front of the area where they stood, bisecting the safety railing. It had padded knee rests, arm and foot rests, an ergonomic head cushion, thick leather bracketed with sturdy-looking soldered steel arms holding it in place . . . and a hole in the center of the lower third. There was only one reason such a bench would have a hole in a place like this.She called it the breeding bench. His cock thickened where it rested against his thigh.
“And the collection technicians will be . . .”
Her eyebrow raised at the spotted minotaur’s hesitant question. “Facilitating your collection, of course. Our technicians are all trained in the usage of both the machines and in the act of assisting with your deposit. A plentiful, speedy collection benefits both you and our organization, and our technicians will utilize a hands-on technique to ensure all parties are satisfied. As I said earlier, gentlemen, we will be providing an elevated experience compared to what I’m sure many of you are used to.” A beaming smile at the ivory professor. “Even with half a dozen options in the Tri-County area.”
“A hands-on technique.” Rourke startled at the sound of his own voice, seeming overloud in the space as if the walls were shrinking in on him, the hole in the center of that bench growing, threatening to swallow him up.
“That’s correct. A combination of a manual massage, coupled with the machine suction you’re likely used to, has been proven to yield the most desirable results.”
“We have hands.” He threw up his own to stave off rebuke. “I’m just saying, ma’am. They didn’t design this with centaurs in mind, did they?”
Her smile was sharp-edged, and Rourke wondered how many times she’d given the same spiel to belligerent bullmen all week.
“How many times have you left a different milking facility and then gone home to masturbate a few hours later?” Her question left the room silent. “We have conducted hundreds of hours of research, gentlemen. We could let you come in and be left on your own like you’re used to, make a few dollars on whatever dribbles out, and then you’ll go home and waste the rest.” She paused, her eyes hard as the truth of her words sunk in. A milking facility tug only ever took the edge off. “Withoursystem, a technician will provide manual stimulation in conjunction with the machine suction you’re used to. Our clinical trials have proven that the resultant deposit with our method produces up to a third more volume than a deposit using machine suction alone.”
“Are you going to give us a prostate massage while you’re at it?” The speaker was the snorter from the lobby, his voice lacking the bite of his words.
“Prostatic wands are a consideration that’s in development,” the sylvan shrugged, her grin sharp-edged. “But it won’t likely be necessary. We’ve spent the time and money on research and implementation to make this process worthwhile forallparties. If you are accepted into the program here, you won’t be making a few dollars on your deposits with us because our technique will drain you dry. You likely don’t even realize your earning potential, gentlemen. But you will.”
His cock jerked. He didn’t need the money, Rourke reminded himself. But getting paid for a biological function was payback, the little voice in his head argued.Humans want to treat us like a product, so let them pay for the privilege.
“And how many rooms does your facility have?”
“There are twelve collection rooms. Each appointment is thirty minutes long, although it is unlikely you’ll require that amount of time. The length is mostly to ensure that all of our protocols are being followed, especially in these first few months. We have early morning hours to accommodate working schedules, and the facility takes its last appointment at six p.m.”
His balls felt tight, and if the sylvan woman asked for a volunteer to demonstrate their technique, his hand would be in the air like a rocket.Manual massage. He swallowed, and his cock jerked again. This was a medical handjobhand job, essentially . . . and if they offered to drain his balls right then, he’d be the first to sign on the dotted line.
He didn’t like the idea of being forced to submit for a health screening, and his earlier supposition was probably accurate — they would use their sperm and blood for genetic testing. He did the math quickly, adding up the business hours and dividing it by the appointment time. With twelve rooms, they’d be able to collect minotaur sperm more than two-hundred times a day.Fucking pharmaceutical money.
“If there are no more questions, gentlemen, I’ll have you follow me this way to watch a short video and then continue on to the health assessment if you’re amenable to do so.”
“What’s included in this health screening?” His voice sounded strained, as if the effort of keeping his chub from growing any further was dependent on the tight control of the rest of his body as well.
“We’ll be drawing blood, checking that you meet our minimum height and weight stipulations as well as some other measurements, and measuring your output.”
“Output?” The ivory bull’s voice had lost its aggressiveness, just as hushed as Rourke’s had been.
