#surrogate cow prowl

[anon-e-miss]

Ori's Energon - Settled

All but immediately, Prowl chose to forgo armour. It was not entirely a choice; it simply did not fit at all over any part of his frame. In any case, heifer routinely did not wear armour, certainly not when their bellies were full. His was full and growing fuller still. Prowl found it easier to be nude and Punch did not appear troubled by the development when he joined Prowl or Prowl and Jazz in the nursery. All he had done is woven Prowl a beautiful shawl in case he became cool. He was knitting blankets for Prowl’s calves now. Prowl was so intrigued by the process that Punch had taken to teach him. Prowl’s first scarf was wonky but Springer wore it with pride, even though it was not cold. Really, Punch was incredible, just like Jazz was but different still as he took charge of all three of Prowl’s calves so Jazz could tend to him.

His belly, so swollen with eggs, was covered in shiny stretch marks but Jazz did not sneer at them but massaged Prowl’s thinned sentio-metallico with expensive oils to sooth it. Though this had been meant to be a common surrogacy, where Prowl was only a warm incubator for the eggs but due the enormity of the clutch the eggs had rooted in his systems in such a way that they were taking code from him. However many eggs made to the point of laying and hatching, they could have some of his features; some could be heifers or bulls. It did not seem to trouble Jazz at all.

“If every one o’em comes out bull or heifer I would be plenty happy," Jazz assured him as he thrust into Prowl's sopping valve. "Y're so pretty, so sweet, so givin', why would I be upset if any o' these bitties take after ya?"

"Moo oo," Prowl gasped, fondling his own swollen wells as Jazz stood between his legs. "I am just a heifer."

"Just?" Jazz tutted at Prowl and shook his helm. "No just. Y'er the prettiest mech, the most generous I ever met. Y'er a perfect ori. 'M lucky ya to have ya carryin' my eggs. Luckier still that they'll have part o' yer code."

Jazz worshipped his frame. Prowl udders, thighs and afts were covered in stretch marks like his belly and Jazz took care to massage the oil into his delicate sentio-metallico twice a mega-cycle. Ambulon was pleased with his work, for all the great demands the carrying was putting on Prowl's frame, the heifer was in fine form and Prowl preened at the praise. He was a good heifer.

"I was expecting at least half of the eggs to be absorbed by Prowl's forge but every last one is growing splendidly," Ambulon explained. "In fact, I can see now that one of them contains two newsparks."

"Oh wow," Jazz gasped. "This is amazin'. 'M gonna need to higher a whole team o' nannies to help out."

"I've never seen a heifer carry a clutch even half this size without straining," Ambulon said. "Prowl, you are in excellent health and so are all those eggs!"

Ambulon showed Jazz the traditional way of spark checking a heifer and of monitoring their carrying. Prowl mooed as Jazz palpated his forge, arm buried deep in his aft. Not all heifers cared for this but Prowl was naughty and loved aftplay, though he did not get much of it. Despite having no stimulation in his valve, Prowl overloaded with a squealed moo.

"I didn't realized ya liked aftplay," Jazz said as he squeezed Prowl thick aft segments as he took Prowl from behind.

"It is naughty," Prowl said. "Heifers are only supposed to take spike in their valves. They are for breeding."

"Nothin' wrong wit likin' aftplay," Jazz told him. "After I get yer new milk set up, I'll give ya a nice treat."

The new milker included a padded bench for Prowl to kneel on as his teats were tugged by a powerful machine. It would drain him faster and more thoroughly. With fourteen bitties on the way, it was important for Prowl to bring up his already impressive energon supply. Already they froze what Prowl's twins did not drink. Thankfully, Prowl had time yet to build up supply.

Prowl let Jazz strap him into the milker and he mooed blissfully as the suction cups tugged on his teats. Jazz stroked his helm and his doorwings, taking the opportunity to massage Prowl's frame with oil. He shivered with arousal as Jazz kneaded his aft and pulled his segments apart. More oil spilled between Prowl's segments and dribbled over his furled port.

"Can I play wit yer after, Sweetspark?" Jazz asked.

"Please?" Prowl replied. He mooed as Jazz fragged his aft with his digits. It made his heavy belly tight and hot.

"I got a present for ya," Jazz revealed as he continued to work his long digits in and out of Prowl little afthole. "I got ya a toy. While y're hooked up to the milker it's gonna frag yer aft."

"Moo!" Prowl gasped as he looked over his shoulder and caught sight of the fragging machine Jazz had bought for him. He watched Jazz lube up the false spike attached to the long arm and line it up with his port. "Moooo ooo!"

"Feels good, don't it?" Jazz asked as the toy plunged in and out of Prowl's aft. Prowl through his helm and mooed in delight. It was like the autofragger they used at the clinic but without any pretenses of being a medical device.

Prowl held his aft segments apart as he looked at himself in the mirror. His afthole was not so tight a furl. He was lusty at the sight. Maybe he was a naughty heifer for liking having his aft fragged but he was a good heifer. Prowl produced kilolitres of the best quality energon. He was good. When Prowl rode Jazz that dark-cycle taking his sixth load of contributions of the mega-cycle, he cooed and mewled as Jazz played with his aft as Prowl bounced on his lap.

"Can I call ya mine, Darlin' Prowl?" Jazz asked as they rested later, his servo resting on Prowl's bulging belly.

"Yours?" Prowl asked. "You want to be my farmer?"

"No, Sweetlin'," Jazz said. He sat up and kissed Prowl's cheekplate. "I want ya to be my conjunx. The ori o' my bitties. I want to be geni to yer sweet calves."

"But no one bonds to a heifer," Prowl exclaimed. "Your reputation would be ruined."

"Even if it was, I wouldn't care," Jazz said. "Anyways, I got a rep for bein' eccentric 'n outrageous. Pretty sure media would call this me bein' on brand."

"You really want to bond with me?" Prowl asked. "And adopt my calves... you really do?"

"I really do," Jazz promised.

"I will," Prowl said. "My calves will be lucky to call you geni."

[auroraphilealis]

beauty and the beast au ???

Phil had heard stories of the beast for years; the once proud mayor of Sunnydale cursed by a witch during one of the grandest balls the town had ever seen, and left to prowl the woods that had grown thick and fast on the outskirts of his own home until - well, until what, no one actually knew. His once handsome face had been deformed into that of a monster, unlike any the world had ever seen before, and his body a gnarled mass of distorted limbs covered from head to toe in fur. He was said to have claws thick as bone, four each on his hands and feet, and fangs that hung so low they clipped his own fat lip, and dug painful scars into the skin of his chin.

The children were told horror stories of disemboweled cows and sheep taken by the beast, and warned they would be the monsters next meal if they didn’t behave, but Phil had never believed them. In fact, despite having noted the rather sudden appearance of the woods that had sprung up as a surrogate boundary for their town about three years ago, he’d never even truly believed the stories about their mayor. For Phil, the whole thing had always been something more of a fairy tale, stories to warn and teach children how to behave so they wouldn’t end up like Frederick Howell and his kin. What had actually happened to the Howell family, Phil didn’t know, but he’d always found it rather hard to believe that it could ever possibly have been a curse.

Witches weren’t real, regardless of what anyone said, and when the Howell’s had gone missing that fateful night three years ago, Phil had been too old to believe in any old wive’s tales the town gossips decided to share. The same couldn’t be said about the older folk of their town, plagued by superstition, nor the young plagued with fear. Phil would have pitied them if they’d been willing to listen to sense, but it was hard to talk to people who didn’t believe in things grounded in truth, let alone people who looked down on him and his father for being the poor of the town.

[anon-e-miss]

Ori's Energon - Moving In

Ambulon went above and beyond for Prowl. He came over to Prowl’s little rental habsuite and helped him to pack his and his creations possessions. There was no logic in keeping the habsuite, paying all that rent for an empty space. Jazz had given him the digits of a storage company. They would take the furniture and hold it for him, at Jazz’s expense. Prowl realized that this meant that Jazz was purchasing everything he and the bitlets might need for the nursery but he did not resist the generosity. The quality of what he would be providing would be far superior the berth and containment berths than those he had purchased for them. They would not be wasted, in any case, Jazz would have a full habsuite in less than a vorn’s time. He would need a team of nannies, but if the media was at all accurate, he would be able to afford the best staff for each and every bitlet.

Prowl supervised the moving teams as they emptied his habsuite while his twins nursed. Springer guarded the crystals Jazz had gifted them, not trusting the movers to touch them. They seemed bemused by the little bull’s protectiveness towards the pretty crystals. If they wondered at all what Jazz of all mechanisms wanted with a heifer and his calves, they were smart enough to keep their questions to themselves. The movers were true professionals, speaking to Prowl with the utmost respect, something that was a little novel to the heifer. Most of the shopkeepers he worked with spoke down to him and treated him like a dumb bovinoid. He set them straight by being a shrewd negotiator but it seemed to be a cyclical thing, with Prowl being forced to remind them he was no meek or mild every time the contracts came up.

The crystals were too heavy and too delicate for Springer to carry out of the habsuite but Prowl’s little bull allowed Ambulon to carry them to the transport. Prowl’s spark was all a flutter. He had not lived with another mech outside of the farm. The contributions for his previous surrogancies had been infused via the auto injector, clinical, as these things were meant to be. Jazz had been lovely at the clinic, careful and conscientious as he had made his contribution. The overloads had really been lovely. It would not be a hardship at all to enjoy them on a near daily basis.

His twins recharged through the transport ride. Springer stared out the window, chattering with excitement. He understood that the move was temporary, or Prowl thought he did. They were staying with the geni of the eggs so he could help them grow big and healthy. That was how he had explained it to Springer. His little bull was excited for the extended “charge-over”, if only for the novelty of it. Prowl knew he had no concept of fame and he was too young to know who Jazz was. This was all just a grand adventure to Springer and Prowl was excited he was having such a grand opportunity. He thought of the trusts Jazz had promised. His creations were going to have a future beyond the manual labour their kind were so often trapped it, so long as Jazz was a mech of his glyph. Ambulon’s involvement reassured Prowl that all would be as Jazz had promised. Perhaps that was naive of him, time would tell.

“Oh wow!” Springer exclaimed as the transport drove through tall gates.

“Wow indeed,” Prowl agreed.

Hidden from public view by the tall walls that surrounded Jazz’s property, gardens sprawled along the driveway that wound its way to the mansion. Prowl did not know why he was so surprised by the vent stealing grandeur but he was. He felt especially gawky now, faced with his client/patrons incredible wealth. It had less to do with his gravid state and just the whole of him. The farmers who had contracted the herds Prowl had emerged into and be traded on to would not have been able to imagine homes so fine as this, never mind any of the heifers or bulls. Prowl could hardly believe he and his creations were going to live here for almost a vorn. Jazz was waiting on the drive when the transport stopped. Prowl pushed the stroller containing his twins down the long ramp, feeling so much wonder. Springer ran down the ramp and spun around. His big, blue optics glowed with the same wonder Prowl was feeling. Jazz crouched and beckoned Springer over he extended a servo as if to shake the little bulls helm but Springer dove in for a hug instead. Before Prowl could apologize, Jazz laughed and scooped Springer up.

“Ain’t ya just the sweetest thing?” Jazz said and Springer giggled. “Welcome to my home, Prowl, Springer, bitties. I bet yer pretty ori’s tired. Think I should show ya to yer rooms, Springer?”

“Uh h’uh!” Springer replied. Prowl was sure Jazz would set Springer down, send him back to Prowl but Jazz carried Springer into the mansion and Prowl was just in awe.

Ambulon walked alongside Prowl, carrying the crystals and he gave Prowl a warm smile. Prowl could not believe his good luck. Taking this contract was singularly the best decision Prowl had ever made. There was no question the carrying was going to be strenuous but Prowl thought spending it in such splendid surroundings would make the strain more than just manageable. It was just beautiful. The walls were covered in colourful art. Arrangements of crystals dotted the furniture. A tour would wait, Jazz promised. Prowl was tired, too tired for to walk the entire mansion. After all, it had been three mega-cycles since Jazz had contributed and Prowl very really felt the strain.

“This is your berthroom, Springer,” Jazz said as he pushed the door open. For a moment, Prowl’s ventilations caught in his intakes.

The ceiling was covered in stars. An entire solar system hung from the ceiling. Springer gasped in delight as Jazz set him down. There was a toy house shaped like a rocket ship and crates of toys. Crystals sat in the window and Ambulon put the arrangement Jazz had bought for them among the others. Across from the berth that was also shaped like a rocket, was a desk and drawers of craft supplies. Prowl could not believe Jazz had arranged all of this for Springer, all for Prowl’s sweet bull. Springer spun around in circles, taking it all in. After a moment’s consideration, he climbed into the rocket, giggling with delight.

There was door to a set of washracks and then another door that led to Prowl’s berthroom. Already in place were two berthside cots for the bitlets, thought Jazz told Prowl there next door led to a nursery for them, in case he preferred it. The nursery also contained Prowl’s equipment so he could continue his creamery as he wished. Prowl sat on the berth, resting his tired hooves and back, for a moment. It was the most lavish, the largest and the softest berth Prowl had ever had the opportunity to use. The memory foam conformed to him as he sat and Prowl thought he would not feel nearly so achy with this carrying with such berth to recharge in. There were crystals on the chest of drawers and in the window and on the berthside tables. It felt to Prowl like Jazz really might have bought out an entire florist.

Prowl visited the nursery and moved his twins from the stroller to the pretty cradles while he hooked himself up to a milk far more costly than the one he owned. Somethings would not wait. Jazz kept Prowl company, asking him questions about his twins, about Chase’s health complications. When Chase started to fuss before Prowl’s let down had eased off even for his bitlet to fuel, Jazz picked him up out of the cradle, cuddled and sang to him. He was going to be an amazing progentior, Prowl was certain of this. He was going to adore every bitlet and love them well. Once Prowl’s flow had eased enough, Jazz brought first Chase and then Strongarm over two him, and Prowl tucked them against his sides as if holding a football, and they happily nursed.

After the bitlets had fuelled, they all went to dinner in the dining room. Ambulon joined them, at Jazz’s insistence. The fuel was delicious and seemingly endless. Springer was especially delighted by the desserts. Prowl allowed him to have a little feast, a little of everything as it was so rare for him to be able to budgeted for treats like this. Though Prowl could not as easily kneel on the ground and play with Springer, Jazz could and he did and Springer was so delighted that a grown up, other than his ori, was happy to play pretend with him. Prowl milked himself again and nursed his twins again as Jazz entertained Springer. Only once Springer and the bitlets were in recharge did Jazz join Prowl in the luxurious berth.

When Prowl pulled his panel back, lubricants stained his thighs, he was so wet. Jazz stroked his wet folds, so careful with him, not that there was any need. Prowl was a heifer and he was forged to endure the rut of heavy bulls. He did not tell Jazz he did not need to fuss because it was so nice to receive tender pleasure. His overload sent stars scattering over Prowl’s HUD, just from the knowing caress of Jazz’s digits. Though Prowl tried not to moo with pleasure, tried to act like a proper mech, he really could not help it and so he chewed on his lower lipplate as he settled on his servos and knees and Jazz crouched behind him. It felt so good as Jazz slowly eased his thick spike into Prowl’s soaking channel that a moo broke out anyways.

“Ya sound so pretty, Prowl,” Jazz crooned at him as he began to slowly spike him. “Don’t gotta mute yerself on my account.”

“Mmmoooo,” Prowl moaned a moo. “Mmm.”

“Do ya feel good?” Jazz asked. His servos caressed Prowl’s aft segments and sides almost reverently.

“Ooo, moo,” Prowl gasped. “Yes... moo oo oo.”

“Ya feel incredible,” Jazz groaned. “Y’re just perfect.”

“Oo,” Prowl moaned and flushed. “Just, just a moooo, heifer.”

“No just,” Jazz leaned over him and held Prowl’s swollen belly from behind. “Yer a miracle. A beautiful miracle keepin’ my eggs safe in warm inside ya. Y’re so pretty.”

“Oooo,” Prowl gasped.

Jazz spooned Prowl as he lay on his side and cupped his belly and udder as he spiked him so perfectly deep. Prowl mooed all but continuously. The stimulation made Prowl’s teat leak but rather than be put off, Jazz licked the energon from his digits and Prowl moaned loudly. Only after Jazz had drained his reservoirs, filling Prowl to the brim with his contributions, did he pull out of his valve. His frame was so used to being milked as he was fragged that Prowl’s teats leaked endlessly. He was tired but he had to get up or he would make too much of a mess but Jazz did not let him up.

“I got ya, Prowl,” Jazz said, crawling around to lay in front of Prowl. “Ya deserve a long rest. I can drain yer pretty wells for ya so you can recharge.”

“Oh please,” Prowl moaned. “Oh!”

It felt different, a lover’s mouth on his teat compared to a milker or a bitlet. Jazz sucked Prowl’s teat as he stroked his anterior node and fragged his slack valve with his digits. Prowl mooed softly as Jazz pleasured him into a blissful fugue and into a restful recharge. His newlings were too young to recharge all dark-cycle without another fuelling. Even as Prowl stirred, Jazz was already moving to collect them. Now this was different, very different, still have in recharge, Prowl accepted his twins and arranged himself and them to give them their meal. Jazz’s lustful work had ensured Prowl’s udders were not yet overfull and Prowl’s letdown was not too much for his bitlets. Jazz tucked the twins into the cots attached to the berth and Prowl drifted back into recharge, feeling blissfully content.