Max groaned, both in relief as well as exhaustion, as the front door finally clocked shut behind him after a long day at school. He threw his backpack down in the entry hall, not caring too much for where it landed, just before tossing his coat haphazardly over one of the many hooks lining the wall. The 13 year old black and white calf made his way through the house until he came to the living room, finding his father siting on the couch watching TV.

“Hey there kiddo, how were classes today?” the jet black bull said, his voice both deep and gravely as well as softened to talk to his son.

Max grunted as he plopped down next to his father on the plush couch, kicking off his shoes and beginning to work his socks off. “They were ok. It was PE day today though…”

The boy began to unbuckle his belt, unfastening his jeans and slowly working them down his legs as his father looked over, seemingly unfazed by this, but nevertheless some sense of concern in his eyes. “You have any trouble?”

“No… but when we did the track, it almost felt like it was gonna start letting down on its own again. Too much rubbing… I think I need a new binder.” He grunted again when his dad reached over to lightly rub the boy’s belly, to the casual observer a belly that was slightly more round than one would expect from the otherwise slim boy, but not enough to make one too curious. “Daaaad, stop… that’s not helping…” he whined, but only half serious as he knew his father meant well.

Max was a bit of an oddity. He was born with an unusual genetic anomaly that resulted in fully functional mammary glands, even though otherwise he was a perfectly normal and healthy boy. The downside is that he and his family were dairy cows, and his mother was known for being a rather high volume milk producer herself, so he had a lot to look forward too. On his belly was a set of udders that one most certainly would not expect on a boy, and were a bit of an inconvenience already to say the least. Since they became noticeable, his family had made sure that he had access to custom made binders that flattened the bulge back down to a more normal figure for a boy, but shortly after his 10th birthday the hormonal surges from the early stages of puberty began to slowly develop the as yet dormant mammary tissue into proper milk producing udders. 

Even though he was not anywhere near the production of his mother, or any other fully grown dairy cow, he got the joy of having to be careful about overstimulating the now functional teats that rest on his belly, or else have to find an excuse to excuse himself to let off some pressure. He tried his best to prevent accidents at school by milking himself every morning, but his body seemed to have a mind of its own, never really producing much until after the day was in full swing. To relieve the pressure that built up towards the end of the day, especially Fridays like today where the constant moving and shifting of a long PE class at the end of the day seemed designed to stimulate his udders, Max resigned himself to milking when he got home. 

Now clad in only his binder, t-shirt, and boxers, the boy sat next to his father who was gently rubbing his son’s belly, an attempt at fatherly soothing of his uncomfortable child, as well as being a bit of a playful tease. It helps that Max’s family is very open with each other: being a species where the females are required to provide milk for the dairy industry leads to a rather loose view on privacy and nudity, which in turn leads to an open view on sexuality. The bull knew his son was embarrassed about his condition, but he also knew from firsthand experience through his wife that when ones udders were full, and are slowly stimulated to milk let down, the experience can be rather pleasurable if done gently and in a stress free environment. Max knew these pleasures well already, having learned early that gentle rubs and tweaks of his teats, as well as slight pressure in the right places not only helped a milking session along and got the creamy white fluid flowing, but could also help get another white fluid flowing if done just right.

After a few moments of rubbing and stroking, Max’s father looked down, chuckling to see a distinct bulge already forming in the boy’s boxers. “Already tenting huh? You are all pent up from today aren’t you?”

“Unf… I told you… can you go get the tub for me, dad? I don’t know if I’m gonna make it to the bathroom, and it’s really too comfy here.” The boy said already starting to sense a familiar feeling well up in his belly. Not to different to a full stomach, but not as deep, as well as an accompanying tightening.

The bull chuckled and stood up, walking to the kitchen to get the tub his son was referring too: a metal basin that the boy and his bother used when they needed to relieve any pent up milk while at home and didn’t want to use the shower drain. It was shaped to be able to catch milk spray from a seated position, so they did not have to sacrifice comfort for necessity. Plus, why trade a comfortable couch for hard porcelain?

As the man left, Max slipped off the last garment concealing his lower body, and hiked up the hem of his shirt, revealing a black elastic binder, securely fastened around his midsection to keep his udders from being too noticeable. He sighed as he undid the closures and slowly peeled the fabric from his body. He still did not enjoy the faint soreness that came along with finally removing his binder after a long day, but he was relieved to have it nonetheless for the normalcy it brings him day to day. As he caressed one hand over his tender stomach, noticeably more full and swollen now that the concealing binder had been removed, he reached down with the other to gently stroke his erect calfhood, now pressing upward into his lower udder.

His father retuned with the tub, setting in front of the boy as he relaxed and stroked himself on the couch, and returned to the TV. This was nothing new for the man, as used to this with his wife as much as with his son. He couldn’t lie that seeing a boy so young so openly pleasuring themselves wasn’t an exciting sight, but he was simply in no mood to join in today, happy to just leave Max to his own devices.

Soon enough, as he rubbed and teased at the now swollen tissue, Max grabbed one of his upper two nipples and squeezed gently from the base to the tip, feeling a surge of pressure run though the tube of flesh, until a small jet of creamy white shot into the basin. It never failed to make him quietly gasp and moan, the first few jets, almost as if it were his first time milking. It was always an intense feeling, further compounded by the hormonal response, making him crave more. With one hand he continued to milk his udder, and with the other he stroked and toyed with his member.

As the session drew on, he switched from nipple to nipple, changing every so often as to not grow too sore. The pressure within his belly ever so slowly let up, almost at the same rate that the pressure within his groin seemed to grow. The more milk he gave off, the more he fulfilled his biological duty, the more turned on he got. It was an ingrained instinct that even civilized society could not shake. He was made to make milk, and he felt good doing it. Even though he was young he felt and understood that. 

Max started to feel the jets of warm cream slowly lessen in pressure, until with each tug he was now dribbling over himself and down onto the couch instead of finding its mark in the basin. He was not worried, he could clean up later, and he was too focused on another feeling. He was quickly approaching his climax, the milk running down his front and onto his throbbing boyhood helping to speed the process by providing more lubrication. He leaned back into the couch, feeling his orgasm well up within him, and had just enough wherewithal to aim his young cock at the milk filled basin in front of him before unloading. 

The young calf fired rope after rope of young, though thick cum into the milk before him, mixing his two bodily fluids together in a lewd display. Even his father, who was trying to let the boy just unwind, could not help but put his show on mute and watch as his son was experiencing pure bliss and release, his maleness even stirring to half-mast within his pants. The moans and whines from the boy spoke of nothing but the most pure pleasure, and Max rode his climax for several minutes, feeling the effects of both a dairy cow’s pleasure from milking and a breeding bull’s drive to mate and sow their seed, all within his still maturing body.

After coming down from his orgasmic high, Max barely focused his eyes in time to catch a towel being thrown at him. He looked at the direction it came from to see his father with a smirk, as well as a bit of a bulge in his pants. “Now that you are finished, clean up and get started on your homework. Your mother should be home for the weekend from the dairy later this evening and I want us to go out for dinner, so you should try and finish before then.” The boy sighed in disapproval, but was happy to hear that they would be able to go out after. He mopped up the remnants of his milk and semen from his belly and the couch as his father emptied and cleaned out the milk basin, and got to work.