Mock the deer-centaur for not being as big as the bull.
From Create Your Own Story
He grunts as you mock him, boasting about how you managed to take the bull easily, taunting him that he'd never get a centaur of of you like the bull did. You don't know if it got to him, but he's definitely pounding harder. It takes all your focus not to cry out instead of insulting him.
After a few minutes the minotaur returns with the snake man, carrying fresh bowls and buckets for your milk. You can the deer-centaur came twice together already, the third one sending shivers down your spine, almost knocking out out. Very quickly the snake man grabs your breasts and tugs on them, spurting out milk into the bowls before you pass out.
When you come to, you find not one, not two, but three baby deer-centaurs in their father's arms. He rushes out without saying anything. You try to apologize for the insults and be honest about how amazing of a fuck you had with him, but the serpent guy returns his cock to your mouth and starts pumping your throat full of his cum again.
Hours of the same routine violation passes very quickly as you lose your sense of time. You can't even see anymore with how much cum is splattered across your face, but you recognize each of the hybrids by taste or touch. You gag at the serpent's sour cum, you're relieved by the minotaur's sweet milk and tender tongue, you scream wildly every time the bull enters you, and there's no mistaking how the deer-centaur's long penis digs in and drills through your vagina with the same energy as a butcher tearing apart a sheep or lamb.
"There's no more space," the snake man hisses to the minotaur in the middle of one of your milking sessions. The bull piledrives your cunt while the deer-centaur cums so far up your ass that it doesn't leak back out. You wonder what he's talking about, and open your mouth to him. There's still plenty of space inside of you. Even if he didn't want you mouth, you bet your pussy could stretch just a little more for him.
The minotaur stops massaging your nipples and puts her mouth to it instead, sucking up the rest of your milk. Her molars, made for chewing tough plant fibres, feels excruciatingly good, rubbing and grinding the tip of your breasts with wanton destruction. She breaks off once she's sure you're out of milk, then lifts you up on your feet.
"You've done well," she says. "You've given more than enough to earn your stay here in our forest."
