My name? What difference does that make? You liked your ranch dressing, didn’t you? Well, that’s all that matters. No sense getting all sentimental about how it’s made or the names of the furs that produce it.
They pay us well enough. It’s exhausting work, and you wake up sore every day. Thank goodness for the days off; they let us recharge.
Home life? Ha! You’re funny. Not that I would mate anybody; no, my offspring would be doomed to the same existence I have. It’s my place, and it would be their place, too. Females? They might not make ranch dressing, but they’d be milked nevertheless, probably for buttermilk.
What’s my day like?
Are you sure you want to know? Well, all right. I’m up, whether I want to be or not, at 5:00 AM. By then, they’ve got the milker attached. These days, it’s typically what wakes me up. The hands used to wake me up when they came in; I was a lighter sleeper then. But now I can sleep through that. The milker’s what wakes me up, softly sucking and tugging to get me out of my sheath.
What’s it feel like? Well, good, I guess, at first. Or at least it used to. I remember being both nervous and excited the first time. I was so hard, they had trouble getting it on, but finally they got it shoved over my cock, one strap around my balls and two straps between my legs, around my thighs, and back to hold it in place. I practically started producing before they even turned it on!
And then they did turn it on, and oh, fuck, it was amazing! It felt like the softest, finest pussy you’ve ever fucked, slick, velvet-satin, warm, and snug. And it worked my whole shaft and head all at once. It’s like it had a mind of its own.
Oh, it did? AI? Huh, I always thought that meant “artificial insemination.” I guess they’re making smart jerking machines now, too, huh? Anything to increase production…
Anyway, I didn’t last but about ten seconds with that thing on before I fired. Could see the white stuff going through that tube, could feel the thing sucking it out of me, saw it collecting in that cup. Didn’t have much time to watch the workings, though. I began to feel pretty wobbly, and a hand was there in an instant to put me in braces.
Now, mind you, I’d never been in braces before at the time, and I was pretty distracted by the fact that I’d just gotten off and this thing was still going. It hurt, actually. I told the hand about it, but he didn’t really pay me much mind, just brought the funny-looking contraption over and tugged on one of my legs. I kinda reflexively picked up my foot, and he latched my leg into the brace just quick as lightning. Felt weird, having one leg up and locked in like that and the other one down. Thought I was gonna fall over or something, but he kinda tugged on the other leg, and just as easy as pie, I picked it up, and he locked it into the brace, too. At that point, my dicks’s still hard and that crazy thing is still on it, but at least I’m not wobbly anymore.
What’s what? The braces? Oh, yeah. They say we horses produce better if we stand up. It would have been a lot more comfortable to sit in a nice, comfortable chair or lying on my back or something, but you know: the customers want their ranch dressing, and management wants us to make as much raw material as they can get out of us. Besides, they can fit more of us in the space if we stand. But I digress. The braces keep us standing up and balance us. It’s kind of a surreal feeling at first. They grip you so that they don’t pinch or cut off circulation, but you can’t move an inch. The good thing is, you can totally relax and just kinda float there. Your dick does get sore standing out that hard for so long, though. But like I said, the pay is good, and your hands are free, so you can play on your phone or whatever. They actually used to encourage me to look at porn and even supplemented my phone bill for the extra data. I guess they don’t need me to do that anymore, now that I’ve advanced.
So, yeah, they put me in braces, but they still haven’t done anything about the thing on my dick. I begin fumbling around, trying to take it off. Boy, that got their attention real quick! This big guy comes over, bison, I think, or maybe buffalo. Gives me a stern look and tells me to leave it right where it is. I tell him it hurts, and he says I’ll get used to it.
Why didn’t I leave? Well, I’d agreed to an hour of it, and like I said, it had only been a few seconds. And I needed the money. Rent was expensive, and when you’re a horse, you have horse-sized food bills. And for what they were paying me for the hour, hell, I figured I could handle a bit of pain. So I said “yessir” and let it alone.
Well, darned if I didn’t start feeling ready again a few minutes later. The overstimulation just kinda continued at a dull pace for a few minutes, and then all of a sudden, I felt myself cumming all over again. Not much warning; I suddenly felt super pent-up, my balls ached a second, and then it felt like taking a piss when you’ve needed to go for a long time. I felt kinda light-headed and…
…Oof, one sec….
…Whoo, okay. Yeah, felt kinda like that. Kinda light-headed, a little woozy, and relieved. But that damn machine…
Phew, okay. The damn machine keeps going, and it hurts for a minute or so after you get off. I heard from some of the other studs that they do that on purpose to toughen us up. I tell ya, I’ve been here a year, and I guess it works: they started me off with a quart-sized container. I filled that up pretty easily the first day. Took a couple of milkings, but I filled it up. When they replaced it, it was with a gallon-sized container. Things were a lot slower the second day; things hurt more, I didn’t produce as much, and was really thinking of quitting.
How did I end up there several days? Oh, right. Well, after I filled over half the quart container on my first milking, some tech came in and looked at it, and then a head honcho came over and talked to me. He said they needed more producers like me and he wanted to run a test. Would I consent to be milked again? I had to admit, I was pretty sore that soon afterwards—you saw my reaction just now—but I did have bills to pay, and I didn’t have anything else lined up, so I told him okay, but I wasn’t sure if I could get off again that soon. He said they had ways of “stimulating production.”
That second one was pretty rough. I didn’t realize that his idea of “stimulating production” was to put a cattle prod up my ass. Hurt like fuck, but damn if that container didn’t fill to the top! Came so hard that cum spurted out around my shaft. Mercifully, that wasn’t supposed to happen, and so they had to take it off for cleaning. My poor cock ran back into its sheath.
But the head honcho, he was mighty impressed. He clapped me on the shoulder and told me great job. Seemed very enthusiastic. Shook my hand and offered me the job. My balls hurt a bit, but he said that would get better with time and practice. Offered me a 4x bump in pay if I’d take the job. I couldn’t turn that down. So, here I am, a year later…
But like I was saying, my production slowed down a lot the second day. The guy next to me at the time had been here a long while, and he said it was normal your first week. Your body had to get used to pumping it out like that. Whatever you ate the week before you started work certainly wasn’t helping your volume or stamina, so the first week is the worst for everybody. Great first day, shitty first week. But by the second week, after eating the stuff they feed us for a week and getting into the swing of things, it does get better. That first week it took me the whole week to fill the gallon container.
My container? Well, you’re leaning on it, of course! No, that 55-gallon drum there. Yeah, that’s all me in there. What day is it? Wednesday? Ought to be about full.
…ohh, yeah. Haaa.
See? Hear that…mmf! buzzing sound? Hrm… Give it three…two…one…
Harvey! Right on time, brother. Yeah, got it filled up. Time for the other one.
Wait…what the hell is that?! Harvey, you’re breaking my balls here, man. No, literally. Well, no, not literally, but you know what I mean. You don’t want to come by anymore? You’re the only company I get besides this guy here. Oh, I see. Well, management knows best, I suppose. I’ll miss ya, bud.
Sorry you had to witness that. Apparently management in its infinite wisdom has decided that instead of having old Harvey come over twice a week to change out my drum, they’re just gonna hook me up to some kind of central tank somewhere. It’s kinda rough being top producer. Kinda lonesome. I remember a year ago when I was first getting started, I could chat with my neighbors in between milkings, and hell, they only happened two or three times a day, so it wasn’t so bad. Sleep here, eat here, get turned loose a few hours a day to keep up our strength. Get milked, and every other milking or so, a nice hand would come by and chat with me while he changed out my container. Not awful. Didn’t have to pay rent anymore, that’s for sure, and didn’t have those feed bills, either.
What do I do with the money? Oh, I—oh, hang on one second; time to eat.
Bleaugh, not the best stuff, but it’s nutritious and keeps me pumping. I sure do miss grass and oats, though. Sure would be nice to get out of here. Oh, no, I can’t leave. Well, I could, but then there’d be no work for me. Furs don’t really like seeing us ranch-producers after we retire from the ranch factory. I guess it makes them feel weird that they’ve been eating what was inside me; I dunno. How do they know? I dunno; they just know somehow, you know? In any case, I can’t leave until I have enough saved up to retire. And the money’s good, but it’s still a ten-year commitment, really. Yeah, that’s with me being top producer. That guy I told you about earlier? He’d been here twenty years already.
Where is he now? Huh. I don’t rightly know. They moved me out of there when I started filling a drum; there wasn’t space for it. I suspect he’s around here somewhere, though.
Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, my day. Well, the milker does come off overnight. I’m on first and second shift, so I get it off overnight. Most only work one shift. But anyway, they take it off when I’m not working so that my dick can breathe a bit, and they put balm on it to keep it from chafing. That is the worst pain ever. So, 5:00 AM, they put that thing on. Yeah, I sleep in the braces. I dunno; I haven’t been horizontal since I started here. Just get used to being upright all the time, I guess. The milker getting started is what usually wakes me up, and by the time I’m thinking about breakfast, the first milking’s over. Then they feed me, and then there’s another milking. And that’s pretty much the whole rest of the day. On average, they take about a pint every six minutes or so while I’m working. I guess that thing where they deliberately keep the milker going right after we cum is working out after all. Never thought I’d be able to cum 160 times a day, heh.
Well, thank you for taking the time to interview me. I’m sorry to cut it all short, but I’m getting behind. I should’ve been off a couple more times already, and if they’re hooking me up to the tank, I suspect they’re gonna expect me to pump it out a little more frequently. But feel free to come back anytime and visit the Hidden Ranch Equine Collection Center. I’m sure if you stop by the reception desk, they’ll give you a free sample of our world-famous ranch dressing. From me? Oh, no, sorry, but I’ve got to keep the milker on. Company policy, you know…