Sasha leads you by the hand into the main barn. Immediately, the overpowering smell makes you cover your nose. Sasha just chuckles.
"Get used to it, honeybun."
You notice something straining against the back of her torn-up jeans. Sasha grabs the edges, and with one swift pull rips her pants off to reveal a long, leathery tail that snaps in the air. You also notice the boney stubs on her back. Two of them, to be precise. And that when she takes her boots off, her feet don't have toes but instead end in long, sharp talons.
Sasha plays with her boobs. "I bet you're wondering in that pretty little head of yours what I really am. Right, sugar?"
You nod, a bit too terrified to say anything else.
Sasha walks you right into the heart of the barn. It doesn't take long for you to realize what this is. Lining the walls are big steel vats, each with a label: "White Male Sperm", "Black Male Sperm", "Hispanic Male Sperm", "Asian Male Sperm", "Arab Male Sperm", and many others. Atop each vat was a suspended platform, with five to six chairs bolted down and arranged in a circle. In each chair sat a man of the corresponding race. Some were muscular, some were overweight, and some were skinny. Some were bald and some had thick, youthful hair. Some were old or middle-aged, while others were clean-cut college boys. But there was one thing all of them had in common: smooth skin where their mouths should have been.
Each man had a woman, or sometimes several, attending to him and his thick, swollen cock. Like Sasha, all of them had beautiful manes of hair, ginormous boobs, leathery tails, talons for feet, and big, muscular bodies. All of them were busy stroking, sucking on, and otherwise working the cocks before them. Nothing was off the table. You could see men's balls being squeezed, crushed, and licked; thick knots of cords being tied around their shafts to stop them from cumming before being slowly untied; women grinding their heart-shaped asses against them and giving boob massages to their meatsticks; stimulating them with tools raging from hot candle wax to hot iron pokers; and even more outrageous acts like climbing on top of the men and pissing on their heads.
"Sugar, this is a succubus farm. Our job is to milk these big ol' bulls until they ain't got nothing left to give. And then we make sure their seed is preserved and sold to the right people. It's as simple as that."
You start to turn around as if to leave. Sasha notices and grabs your shoulder. "You can't leave now, pillbug. Now buck up!!! There's someone I want you to meet."
She takes you up to the "Black Male Sperm" platform, where a crowd of succubi are getting frustrated with a large, bald man, with big rippling muscles and a penis so red and inflamed it looks like it might soon explode.
One of the women turns to Sasha. "Boss, we don't know what to do. Old Joe's down to his last load, and he's refusing to cum for any of us."
Sasha kisses her on the forehead. "It's not your fault, sweet bee. Joe's been here longer than most of these fellas, and I bet he's pretty well worked up about all it. Let me take care of this and get the bucket ready."
She slowly mounts Joe, as he tries to squirm free of his restraints. "Joe, aren't you all tuckered out? Don't you just want to ejaculate one last time so you can finally rest? Cum for me, right now?"
Her ass is grinding on his member, and you can see her tail inserting itself into his rectum to toy with his prostate. She beckons to you. "Get on your knees, bubblegum, and suck this big black dick."
You refuse to move, but suddenly your legs start walking on their own. Your knees give out from under you. Your neck cranes forward, and your mouth slowly wraps around the head of Joe's dick. None of this is of your own free will. All you can do is shed a few tears. You look up, and Joe's crying too. Without a single word, the both of you know what's about to happen.
The last thing you remember, before your mind is completely consumed by lust, is the salty taste of sperm hitting your tongue.