The Other White Fluid
“Good morning, Aunt Betty!” Elijah said, descending down the old wooden staircase of the farmhouse. “Uncle Owen!”
The two adults at the table did not look up from their breakfast. Elijah sighed, rolled his eyes, and then deadpanned “I mean, Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen.”
Uncle Owen looked up from his food, and waved at Elijah to come join them. “Luke! You’re just in time to grab some grub before you head out to check the moisture vaporators!”
Elijah sighed as he looked at his two relatives, both who were clad in odd linen robes that were tightly fitted around their bodies. They wore several layers of these odd garments, and both had very realistic, albeit plastic, laser blasters within arm’s reach laying on the table.
“My name is Elijah,” Elijah reminded his guardians.
“Nonsense, Luke!” Uncle Owen laughed. He took another bight of his food, and then gestured to the outside through a nearby window. “And after that, you need to go milk the banthas!”
Elijah had had it with this. Throwing his hands up in the air, he opened his mouth and began to shout at his aunt and uncle. “Look, you guys, I get it— you fucking love Star Wars. You wasted your money on buying a farm ALL the way out on the desert, insist on calling yourselves after the characters...” Elijah trailed off. “They aren’t even the GOOD characters! I mean, what the fuck?”
Uncle Owen looked over at Elijah. “Did you just say we aren’t good characters?”
“They were there for about 20 minutes in the first film, and then they died,” Elijah pointed out. “Why would you even want to BE them?”
Uncle Owen stared at Elijah for about four seconds, before picking up his blaster and leveling it at him. “Luke, we are the most important characters! Without us, you would’ve been found by the sith, and you would have never found your way to the alliance and you would have never brought down the death star, and indeed, the whole empire! We sacrificed our lives so you could live, and our deaths brought a burning passion to your heart so you could fight for the forces of good and learn the ways of the force!” Uncle Owen had covered the table in spittle in light of his fantastic speech. “Never again say we’re useless!”
“You and Aunt Betty live on a failing farm in the middle of a desert, Uncle Owen,” Elijah told him. “You threw away your entire lives, and your only income is pony milk, which only has a bunch of weird, greasy men with neck beards buying it for whatever reason. You have to give up your deranged fantasy and live your real lives.”
Uncle Owen pressed his finger to the trigger of his laser blaster. “Luke, I don’t want to do this...”
Elijah rolled his eyes. “Your blaster is made of plastic, Uncle Owen.”
“YOU’RE MADE OF PLASTIC!” Owen screamed, and he dropped the gun, collapsing into tears. Aunt Betty patted Uncle Owen on the head, cooing words of encouragement to the crying man, and then looked over at Elijah.
“Just go check the vaporators, dear.”
Elijah sighed, and left the house. Standing out on the dusty plains in which the farm was erected, the teenager surveyed the landscape set out before him. There was a little stable nearby where the ponies were held, and a tractor was stationed nearby.
The boy walked across the lonely, dusty fields to the far end of the property, where a bunch of weathervanes, car antenna, satellite dish sticks, and copper tubings were stationed sticking straight out of the ground with little cup underneath them. No water, just like always.
“These fucking people,” Elijah grumbled to himself as he wandered back towards the stable. Turning around the corner, he looked inside at where they were all kept, waiting in their little stalls, their giant eyes looking up at him.
They were various colors, their candy-chromatic manes also sporting various hues and shades. Some were muttering amongst themselves, and others were sleeping. All in all, they were pretty fucking adorable.
Elijah bent down and picked up a bucket that lay discarded in the dust, and used an nearby house to wash it out. His aunt and uncle had told him yesterday that the new pony to be milked was at the very end of the stable hall, so he set off, casting a glance at the sapient beings that they were basically holding enslaved. He didn’t look for too long, otherwise he started to feel guilty, and that was just a downer.
“Hey there, big boy,” came a voice he recognized all too well. Freezing up in horror, Elijah didn’t dare turn around, but could hear the terrible sounds as if someone were ejaculating them fresh into his ear holes.
Elijah then went back on his previous ideology, and dared to turn around. Sure enough, the familiar mint-colored Lyra Heartstrings was staring after him.
“So, I hear you’re doing some milking...” she said saucily. “I can... help with that.” Flopping onto the dry dirt ground, Lyra exposed her mare bits, which included two flat crotch boobs, tiny nipples pointing out. She rested a hoof on one such nipple, and waggled her eyebrows at Elijah.
Elijah stared at this spectacle for a moment, before busting out into laughter. His laughter continued solid for a good five minutes, before he walked away, still guffawing, at Lyra’s tiny tits. He couldn’t spend all day yukking away at them, however; there was work to be done.
Heading down to the last stall, Elijah looked at the pony sleeping in the dusty existence of the stable pen. The faded nameplate on her stall read “Milky Way”, so this is what Elijah called to wake her up.
“Hey, Milky,” Elijah yelled. The tan mare stirred from her sleep, and looked up at the human who had awoken her. Her deep sea blue man cascaded around her, looking expertly brushed even though she lived in one of the most disheveled living spaces available short of a prison cell, and even then, prison cells had beds.
“Um...” Elijah said, holding up his bucket. “I need to yank on your boobs.”
The mare giggled, and stood upright, showing of her voluptuous milk sacs. “Sure, it’s bin a while since I was milked properly. The other two just bought me off of some idiots who just poked at my teats and laughed as they jiggled.”
“Sounds awful,” Elijah said, trying to sound concerned even though the idea of doing that was actually pretty hilarious. Milky Way nodded.
“They smelled like butt sweat, and their hands were covered in cheeto dust.” She shivered at the memory. “Even though the owners of this farm dress weird, they seem nice enough; they’ve even got a collection of ponies here to keep my company!”
Elijah bobbed his head, only half listening as he set up shop behind the pony. Putting his hand to one of the swollen teats, it felt a lot warmer than a cow’s udder. He carefully traced his fingers down to the nipple, which was sticking out slightly.
He dragged his bucket from the ground nearby to under the pony’s teats. He took the other crotchboob in his hand, and began to slowly work them up and down, drawing the milk from within them to squirt into the pail below her. The squirts made hollow, tinny noises as they hit the side of the bucket, which would soon enough be replaced by periodic sloshes once the bucket was full enough.
“So what, are you pregnant or something?” Elijah asked, making awkward small talk with the mare.
He heard her gasp slightly, and Elijah felt himself grown uncomfortable as she talked around a moan. “N-no, I naturally produce a lot of milk; makes me highly desirable to a lot of farmers... mmm...”
Elijah continued to work Milky Way’s teats, but could feel himself blushing. He had never considered that the animals would attain sexual pleasure from the milking; he supposed since he was working with sapient animals now, things were different. Making the mistake of looking up, he could see Milky’s sapphire blue tail swishing around, exposing a glistening slit periodically.
Okay, Elijah, Elijah thought to himself. Just hurry up and finish this before things get weird.
The boy began to milk faster, but soon learned that this was a mistake; Milky Way liked it a bit rough. Soon, she was unable to contain her moans, and was audible making noises. The other ponies in nearby stalls were poking their heads out to get a good look at Milky Way’s milking.
“Hehe, alright,” Elijah said, blushing bright enough to blind anything that stared at his cheeks for too long. “Let’s try and keep this from being weird...”
“Sorry, aah...” Milky Way groaned, one eye closed as she looked back. “You’re just really good with your hands...”
“Ain’t that the truth, sister!” Lyra called out from a few stalls down.
“Lyra, all you did was smash your pussy up against my face, and try and suck on my dick!” Elijah yelled back at her. “You didn’t even get anywhere near my hands!”
“Details, details,” Lyra said, with a wave of her hoof.
Elijah rolled his eyes, and went back to focusing on milking the milk mare before him. Her groans and sexual noises had not subsided, and neither had Elijah’s embarrassment. This would all be over soon...
Then, it happened.
“Oh jeez, I’m gonna—” Milky Way moaned, before her tail shot up. Elijah gave her a confused, and somewhat terrified look.
“Gonna do what?” he asked. Not a second later, however, and his question was answered. Milky Way’s cunt flexed, and a huge gush of marecum shot out from within. It doused Elijah like a torrent of water, as if someone had squeezed a bottle full of the fluid right onto his face.
“Oh god, it’s in my mouth!” Elijah screamed in horror, the juices dripping all over his body, his wet and sticky shirt now clinging to his skin. “OH GOD, IT’S IN MY EYES!”
“Hehe, sorry,” Milky Way said, giggling and giving Elijah a sort of jovial grin. “Shoulda warned you. Are we cool?”
Elijah narrowed his eyes.
***
“Where is that boy?” Uncle Owen said, looking up at the clock. “The two suns’ll be setting soon, and Galactic Thanksgiving Dinner is about to start!” Uncle Owen looked around, fearful that he was not being Star Wars-accurate. “Galactic Thanksgiving? Does that even work?”
Aunt Beru patted him on the hand gently. “We’ll make it work, honey.”
The turnout for this event was poor. Around the table only sat a few folks; Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru, a chicken that had forgotten to roost, Lyra, and Ed, a weird cannibal pony that sometimes wandered into this part of the desert.
“Yeah, where’s my boy toy?” Lyra demanded. Ed slowly sniffed Lyra’s arm as she said this, extending his tongue to test if Lyra was indeed as minty as she looked. One licking and one grimace later, he deduced that she was not. Still, she had quite a bit of meat on her, and looked succulent as all hell, so she’d have to do...
“Woah there!” Lyra said, pushing off Ed as he nibbled on her foreleg. “Dinner and a movie first, buddy!” Ed recoiled away from her, but this would not be the last time he would attempt to get some of dat delicious Lyra meat.
“I swear, if he doesn’t show up soon...” Uncle Owen said. “We give this kid everything he would need to grow up in the harsh environment of Tatooine! I just don’t understand why he has to be such a piece of work!”
The chicken pecked the tablecloth sympathetically.
Just before Uncle Owen was about to pull out his blaster, the doors to the kitchen opened, and out walked none other than Elijah holding a large platter in his hands, every guest at the table looked over to see the boy caring the mighty dish.
“Luke!” Owen called out, practically in tears. “You came!”
“Yup,” Elijah said, smiling. “I whipped us up something extra specially for Galactic Thanksgiving Dinner!”
“Ooh, and what might that be?” Aunt Beru asked, licking her lips.
Elijah pulled off the top of the platter, and inside, nestled between some decorative vegetables and greenery were two large, tan blobs.
“Roasted milk sac, straight from the pony!”