Christmas Eggnog

A flick of a switch and the lights inside Sandy's Bakery, a name simple and practical just like the one who had come up with it, were turned on, suffusing pale blue rays over rows upon rows upon rows of empty containers, each labelled with a singular tag that belied what would soon be filling all of them, from the small jars at the top to the large gallon-sized containers at the bottom of the shelves: eggnog. The raptor smiled upon seeing the many many many jars she had to prepare for the last holiday rush before she went on a long cozy vacation somewhere warm and fun instead of the cold north of the country she lived in. On the right, a large tag read 'sweet', on the left, where the jars were so much more numerous and abundant, stacked in twice as many shelves and rows, the tag read 'salty'. She was so very excited for this day that she'd decided to wear her heavy duty apron for the task, the one with straps to keep her heavy, KKK tits firmly set in place, her puffy nipples stiff, proud and leaking healthy amounts of creamy milk all over the floor already, her crotch wide open to let her just as big and hefty sack sway back and forth. Her thighs had gently rubbed against her nuts all night since she'd removed her clothes the day before, keeping her arousal just at the edge, until now. Sandy's half-chub twitched and throbbed, her foreskin crawling back as her flesh hardened and began leaking a healthy amount of thick precum, first down onto the floor, joining the quickly forming puddles of milk gushing from her overly full breasts, then dripping down her meaty shaft, making rivulets that parted around the cleft between balls and cock only to end up in the same place, around her paws.

"Mh, I do love the holidays..." She smiled, licking her lips as her cockhead wedged itself firmly inside her cleavage, the soft pressure from her safely held in place tits providing more stimulation to her gushing shaft. "Tiring as they might be." Her thick tail swayed back and forth behind her, plump and heavy, much like the rest of her. With an even bigger grin plastered over her muzzle, she clapped her hands and shivered with excitement. "Off to work then."

Her body couldn't have been more ready for this day than it was in that moment: she'd been patiently saving herself for a long, long, long time, far too much according to those who'd seen her tits swell bigger and heavier by the day, and who noticed the pints of precum splattered all over the windows, counters, sweets, inside the coffee, the hot chocolates, painted on cupcakes and everything else in between. She'd also worn pasties for a while but a couple days before her nipples had gotten so stiff and leaky the tape just couldn't stay on, much to the enjoyment of her customers who enjoyed the sight of her dripping milk faucets making a right mess of her already chaotically arousing style of business.

With light steps she pranced over to the big steel cauldron that she used to mix large batches of her most popular sweets, a massive fifty gallon barrel that would soon be filled with enough ingredients to fuel the entire neighbourhood's hunger for creamy 'nog. As if her body was telling her to hurry up, her nipples began to gush without her even touching herself, merely by the sheer pressure of all the milk that was trapped inside and wanted to be free. The sound of fluids splattering inside the empty drum echoed in the kitchen right as the clock hit 5 am, the perfect time for her to begin preparations. In a quick couple flicks, her tail grabbed a chair and her wide hips crashed on it, allowing her to sit comfortably as she grabbed her stiff nipples, now closer to mighty teats and started to milk herself. Gushes of white flowed forth with each tug, her breasts deforming and almost audibly sloshing. Spurt after spurt, tug after tug, the bottom of the steel drum began to fill, slowly at first but soon the process sped up a lot as Sandy bit her lips, squeezing her tits with her arms from both sides, earning herself bigger, more abundant sprays of creamy white and more than a few moans escaping from her pursed muzzle.

"MMAHAH!!!" Behind her heavy balls, her pussy twitched, winked and leaked, squirting abundantly on the floor in a huge, wide fan that only made the air around her reek more of sex than cooking ingredients, though that was exactly what made her treats so alluring and wonderfully tasty. "MMHHHHHHHH!!"

One more squeeze, one more gush, one more squirt, Sandy continued to manhandle her breasts, squeezing, pulling, squishing, moaning, huffing, squirting and filling the drum bit by bit until her milk was sloshing inside, dozens of gallons, already having filled the container more than halfway. Yet all the squeezing and handling didn't stop with just warm gushes of milk, but more than a few hefty spurts of another sort of milk: her cock was wedged between her tits, after all, and all the milking had turned into an accidental titjob of such monumental and pleasurable heights that the raptor found herself adding gallons of ball batter to the sloshing drum. The mix of milk and cum thickened, her toes curling and flexing over a slightly slippery floor as more than a little bit of her fluids failed to enter the container and ended up everywhere else around her. As the drum was nearly sixty percent full, Sandy stopped, her sore arms leaving her still impossibly heavy and soft and full tits alone, her cock flopping out of her cleavage, delivering a pint-sized spurt of batter before she turned away and began to casually hose the countertops and equipment while grabbing precisely measured containers of sugars, spices, brandy, whiskey and all sorts of ingredients. And, of course, one last thick juicy gush of pussy juice that arched as her lips winked and parted around a formless cock, adding a wonderful hint of fruity passion to the creamy mixture.

Flicking her tail she turned on the heat under the drum and a mechanical arm dipped into the warm concoction of sweet and salty fluids, rising the temperature to the optimal degree for her recipe, poured nutmeg, brandy and rum and let the machine do its work. From the fridge she pulled stack after stack of fist-sized eggs and out them on the counter before ripping the little sticker on the top that read 'me and the girls laid those yesterday just for you, we will come to visit you in the afternoon for our free sample'. Her smirk returned as she cracked the eggs donated by the local Hen Housewives Club into the large bowl of her mechanical chef together with sugar.

Now that the two most important parts had been automated, at least for the time being, she moved across the kitchen and huffed with excitement, her cock twitching like an eager puppy as she aimed her gushing tip into the two gallon jar and began jacking off into it. Her sack swayed back and forth, left and right, plapping against her inner thighs as beads of sweat dripped out of it, a few flicked into the wide mouth of the jar along with increasingly thick and cloudy precum until her taint swelled double its size, her sack tensed and pulled up, veins becoming visible from root of the shaft to the tip as she howled and came, quickly, efficiently, abundantly. Her ropes were dense and heavy, thick like fresh honey, milky white and lasted a dozen seconds each at first, then more, more and more until she filled the whole jar from bottom to rim and still kept going. Sandy grunted, complaining about the waste of cum while she hurriedly put the brimming jar away and grabbed the next, though not before enough ball batter to give someone a facial worthy of a 10 man bukkake was splattered onto the rack of jars below. Groaning and rolling her eyes, the raptor herm took another multi-gallon jar and aimed her cock down with her tail, letting the clear glass catch the next pint-sized gush of nut that nearly knocked the thing over so strong her taint pumped it out. Then another jar, then another, and another still.

One after the other Sandy filled four of the large jars before her balls stopped twitching and churning, though even when they did, those melon-sized orbs looked no less big nor heavy nor fat or juicy. She had saved her own 'nog for a long time, after all, just a pitiful ten gallons, eight of which actually ended up inside a jar, was hardly enough to put a dent in her reserves. She'd barely stopped cumming when she wisely put the full containers in the shelves and grabbed a dozen more before putting her hands back onto her thick cock and began jacking herself again, her tail curling behind her, tracing the outline of her pussy before plunging inside, cramming a good foot in an instant, putting her sex drive into fifth gear. Her toes curled and her balls tensed, releasing a solid beam of thick batter straight over the closest jar before she remembered that she had a job to do and aimed her cockhead down the lid. Shot, shot, shot, shot, one, three, four, another jar, shot, shot, shot, another jar, shot, shot, jar, shot, jar, pause, put away the full ones, grab the next batch before she was ready to cum again, then shot, jar, shot, jar.

Any normal person would've been wrung dry by the first jar of the first batch, yet Sandy continued to go, and instead of her ropes growing less dense or strong or abundant, the opposite happened, thickening, lasting longer, dumping twice then thrice as much batter than the first already chaotically huge spurt of the day. It was as if saving herself had only made her impressive reserves bottomless, which was excellent for business. Yet as she continued to cum and cum and cum and cum, filling jar after jar after jar, she ran out of the bigger ones that held the most, forcing her to get the small single-gallon containers, only to run out of those even quicker.

Within but a half an hour, the pristine state of the kitchen was no longer such: cum ropes and splatters, stains and puddles were spread everywhere, had she not outfitted the place with anti-slip mats and drains she'd be in serious trouble as dragging herself to other corners of the room to find one more jar to fill without wasting even more of her precious load became a real concern. Until it became a reality and she simply continued to cum and cum and cum and cum, her cock aimed skyward, snugly fitting between her mountainous, once again backed up tits, hitting her in the chin every now and then as she began to mix spices and flavours into the dozens upon dozens of jars strewn around the countertops, not one overflowing with thick salty batter. Once properly prepped, Sandy sealed them and arranged them back onto the shelves, letting the extra drip back down in a perverted, salty, warm, spiced waterfall of seed.

And then the alarm rang, warning her that it was time to open. Sandy looked around and panicked a little: sure, the jars were ready, both sweet and salty, tens, hundreds of gallons of eggnog of all kinds, brandy, rum, gin, heavily or lightly spiced, in all sorts of sizes, yet not one jar wasn't covered in spunk, milk or pussy juice, the entire kitchen was a mess that reeked of sweat and cock and everything in between, her shaft was still spurting constantly, her pussy was leaking and her tits had grown in size despite everything she'd done to milk herself dry. But she had to open for business and so she did.

Unlike the previous years, there wasn't a modest crowd waiting for her to come and unlock the door, no, there was a flood of people raring to get their hands on anything she had to offer, wads of cash and credit cards at the ready. Apparently, her moans had been so loud and the sound of her orgasm so chaotic that everyone heard her across the street and voice had been spread that this would be a most wonderful year for gifts and wild parties fuelled by Sandy's concoctions. She rushed behind the counter, put in a few jars and immediately had to get more, and more, and more. Her cash register was forced open as people crammed bills inside before she even told the price, likely overpaying for everything as if the only important thing was to get their own share of 'nog to bring home.

She ran back and forth, her hips swaying left and right, hypnotizing her customers with their wonderful width and allure, her thick tail keeping the door open so that everyone could see the state of the kitchen, the cumstained walls and ceilings, the clogged drains, the rows of jars yet to be sold waiting for them to pay, the sloshing drum still mixing what remained of the first batch. The overworked raptor finished the sweet 'nog quickly, far too quickly, which forced her to put a sign to wait as she hurriedly stood in front of the big container and began milking herself again, her finger-thick nipples gushing so loudly the sound of milk splashing against the steel walls at first and then into an ever deeper reserve. Gallons upon gallons of creamy white mixed with frothy white, creating a wonderful mix that was just as much milk as it was salty cum, with hints of spices and brandy. As it warmed up and the flavours melded together, she momentarily began to push her salty eggnog more, hoping that it would be just enough to make the next batch ready for selling.

As the reserves began to dwindle, Sandy was forced to add the 'fresh from the tap' option to make her stock last a little longer, and the chaos grew even bigger: she sat upon the counter and spread her legs, allowing hands, mouths and everything to grab and squeeze her tits, stroke her cock and milk her for her everything. Mouths latched onto her nipples and drank, her milk gushing forth and splattering over winter coats, furs and jackets alike, muzzles both scaly and furry stained with white while beneath her people held buckets, mugs and jugs so that her beams of cum could be collected. As the timer for the sweet 'nog rang, she ran back into the kitchen, still cumming and leaking, hurriedly bottling the stuff into whatever sort of container she had left, hosing down people and everything else in between her and where her cock was aimed at. unfortunately, she was fresh out of jars and anything to put the stuff in, so she went and grabbed paper cups, mugs and whatever could be used to scoop up some and sell it. It still wasn't enough and soon she was once again left with nothing to sell and nowhere to put her dried stock.

And so she put herself on sale, sitting once again on the counter as people milked her, stroked her, nursed from her cock and her tits, some daring souls reaching beneath her tail to pump their cocks inside her soaking wet pussy or her puffy donut, giving both layers upon layers of glaze that other customers lapped or collected with hands or leftover mugs. By the time the lunchtime bell rang, Sandy lay upon the counter, her body covered in so much cum and milk and juices that she looked like a glazed cake, her pussy sore from all the loads customers had deposited, her cock still gushing, the café turned into a chaotic cumscape, her kitchen raided for leftover eggnog, everything else safe along with a cash register so full of cash that it couldn't close any longer and a good bit of the bills were laying in a cum puddle beneath, with a little bit stashed between her tits as tip from the last few customers who got there late and only managed to get some of the leftovers. As a matter of fact, her cock had not stopped gushing, constantly letting out fat spurts even with her flesh at half mast, causing it to erratically jerk left and right, further coating whatever her swollen balls twitched and fired yet another load.

Eventually Sandy groaned and stood up, cum dripping down her sore nipples, bills glued to her breasts, cock stiffening back to full mast as she breathed in the stench wafting around the bakery. Now that she was hard again, her idle spurts turned into a nearly continuous beam that kept her cockslit gaping wide, hosing her tits from below before she wisely stashed it in between them, allowing it to gush inside and only occasionally hit her chin with a good pint of thick goo. Her bare paws splashed into the store-wide pool of batter, milk and juices that the drains couldn't even hope to remove, not such a thick and dense mix, her ass jiggling ever so slightly as she stretched and chased away some of the tiredness and discomfort for having rested her overworked body on a counter. She sighed and then lightly slapped her muzzle with both hands, eyeing the steel drum as she fished her almost permanently gushing cock towards it, catching the next dozen spurts inside, her hands groping her fatter tits and grasping her nipples while she tugged them once again.

"Alright, time to prepare for the afternoon shift."