As Jenny hustled down the hallway her clothes transformed. Her black salon tunic merged with her trousers to form a robe and colourful printed flowers appeared with twisting green vines, giving her tits more freedom to grow. Her flat shoes melted into sandals and heels sprouted to give her a swaying gait with every step, increasing the rub between her thighs and pressure they exerted on her bulging clit. Jenny noticed none of this, except the increase in comfort and pleasure.
She reached the employee restroom. It was in use. An ache of frustration rippled through her body and she whined with need. She flicked her head left and right, wondering if there was a different room she could sneak into instead. She only needed a minute. Then she spotted it. The milking station.
When was that installed? The owners hated slutmares and it was policy to refuse all custom to them. Was it for employees? None of the staff were slutmares. Although with her tits and enormous nipples she was often mistaken for one. Not to mention her sex drive. And she did need to be milked a few times a day otherwise she'd ruin her uniform.
Jenny slipped inside and locked the door. She hung her robe on the hook and placed the suction cups over her teats with practiced ease, then flicked the switch. The device hummed to life. Her nipples, already lung and turgid, swelled further under the suction and her milk squirted down the tubes.
Pleasure radiated through her body and she grabbed the handles on the wall to steady herself. The handles were made of steel and attached to the wall with chunky bolts. They were intended to provide purchase for the slutmares while they wildly rutted with the wide tube that disappeared into the wall at waist level. Jenny wished she could experience that kind of pressure, but the best she could do was grind her clit over the faux equine vagina lips of the machine.
The machine secreted lubricant and the air filled with the pungent odour of a mare in heat. Jenny's nostrils flared when she picked up the scent and her hips bucks against the machine in a frenzy. She needed to stick her cock in that cunt. But she didn't have one. Why didn't she have one?
She whinnied and stamped the floor. Something was wrong and her brain was too scrambled with lust to figure it out. If only she could see past the valley of her creamy milkers and see what was causing her cock to stay in its clit. Or rather sheath. Her aching nub was a sheath, wasn't it?
It must be the stress of working for a pair of marephobes that was causing her impotence. Hopefully Madame Leia will buy them out. Maybe then the spa could be permeated with the arousing scent of a mare instead of the dull sweetness of flowers. There'd be naked equines in every room, waiting for their luscious bodies to be massaged with rejuvenating jizzcream. Complimentary whore services with every treatment. Ling Colt porn magazines on the tables in the reception.
Ling colt porn! That's what she needed. She punched the buttons on the machine and the statistics of her milking on the screen above her dissolved into a scene of Ling Colt on her knees alternating between two mottled shafts with her mouth.
Jenny's clit swelled and distended from her body. The hood extended with it and formed her new sheath properly and her cunt lips darkened and shifted lower on her body to make room for the leathery sack ballooning out with her new balls.
The new slutmare took a wider stance to accommodate her new height and slammed her hips forward. Her shaft pummeled into the fake mare cunt and continued its growth inside the long tube until she had two and a half feet of thick horse dick that she pounded like a piston into the machine. She whinnied with joy and her ears drew up into points. Her tail sprouted from her back and swished from side to side. With one final thrust, she came.
Bottles along the wall quickly filled with the thick, white combination of her milk and seed. Her remaining juices splashed on the floor as her snatch pulsed and grabbed at the air for a horsey cock that wasn't there. Her asshole did the same. On the screen, Ling Colt had both of those holes stuffed and her cries of joy pumped out of the stereo to mix with Jenny's.