Kazuma knows reality better than you (Subaru Minotaur TG)

Kazuma leaned back in Roswaal’s throne-like desk chair, one leg propped casually over the armrest, sipping from a porcelain cup of perfectly-steeped tea. The sun filtering through the stained-glass windows gave the whole office a rainbow glow, and everything smelled faintly of hay and expensive perfume. Life was good.

He’d done a lot of things in a lot of worlds, but this one, this one, was shaping up to be a personal favorite.

The Roswaal estate was running smoother than ever, staffed top to bottom by the most obedient, submissive, and milky cowgirl maids anyone could ask for. The floors were spotless. The halls echoed only with polite moos and respectful curtsies, and the milk, oh, the milk! Delivered fresh, rich, and always in his name.

He had even begun experimenting with new titles for himself. “The Cream Lord.” “Moo-gnificent One.” “His Udderness.”

But there was one thing left undone.

Kazuma had heard rumors of someone. A certain stubborn, loud, justice-screaming type. A guy who sounded, if he squinted mentally, just a little too much like himself. That intrigued him. That needed investigating. And so, Kazuma waited.

It shouldn’t take much longer.

A soft knock tapped at the door, and a moment later, it opened with elegant grace. In stepped Emilia, dressed in a modified maid outfit stretched just barely enough to contain her stunning curves. Her long silver hair was tied back in a neat braid that swayed behind her fur-covered, digitigrade legs. Her hooves clicked softly against the marble floor. And her chest…

Kazuma took a long sip of tea to hide his grin.

“Your tea, our honored guest,” Emilia said sweetly, placing the cup down with a bow so deep it nearly caused a wardrobe malfunction. “Is the temperature to your liking, Lord Kazuma?”

Kazuma exhaled in satisfaction. “Perfect, thanks. You’ve outdone yourself again, Emilia.”

She smiled warmly, purely, even though everything about her body said otherwise. Then she stepped back almost as if waiting for him to command her more.

Kazuma’s eyes followed her all the way to the door, admiring every cloven step, the sway of her hips, and the subtle slosh of her body’s bounty as she moved. As she stood attention, Kazuma spoke up.

“Actually,” he added lazily, “I think that’ll be all for now. Go ahead and excuse yourself.”

“Yes, my lord.” Emilia bowed again and placed a hand over her heart. “Please ring if you need anything else from your most humble maid.”

She was just reaching the door when it slammed open from the other side, nearly smacking her in the face.

A loud voice followed the crashing impact.

“EMILIA?!”

Kazuma sat up slightly, sipping his tea as the final piece of the game board stepped into place.

There he was, disheveled, frantic, and fuming: Natsuki Subaru. His eyes were wide with betrayal and confusion. His chest heaved like he’d sprinted across the estate. He looked around the room like a man staring into a surreal fever dream.

Emilia, still by the door, blinked innocently and bowed again. “Oh! Good evening, young mistress. I didn’t know you’d returned so soon.”

Subaru didn’t even register her words. His eyes were locked on her hooves. Her legs. Her massive, milk-laden chest.

“No… no no no… Emilia too?” he breathed, staggering into the room.

Kazuma arched an eyebrow. Interesting, he thought. Most people couldn’t even perceive the changes he made after they settled in. But Subaru? He noticed. That was rare. That was promising. Wouldn't stop him, though.

And then, Subaru turned to the smug bastard sitting behind the desk.

“You,” Subaru said, voice trembling. “What the hell is going on here?”

Kazuma smiled, placing the teacup back on the saucer with a soft clink.

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for you.”

Emilia stepped aside politely, excusing herself with another gentle bow. “I’ll leave you two alone. Call if you need anything, Mistress.”

"Mistress?!" Subaru gasped in disbelief. “Emilia, what happened to you? I am not your mistress. I am not even a girl!”

“No, I don't think so.” Kazuma declared, knowing that this once again is going to be fun. “From the bottom to the top, you are fully a girl.”

The words settled into the room like a soft wave of static. Subaru blinked.

Something stirred beneath the surface.

She staggered, just slightly, her foot catching on the rug, but said nothing. Kazuma didn’t speak either. He only watched very closely.

His fingers twitched first, thinning, nails softening into a more delicate curve. His wrists followed, then his forearms, muscles relaxing into a gentler taper. His collarbone rose just a little higher, skin smoothing, jawline softening.

Kazuma’s eyes drifted downward.

His waist pinched inward gradually, like an invisible corset was being laced tighter and tighter, reshaping his silhouette with methodical patience. His hips widened in tandem, bones rearranging with silent, unseen grace.

Then came the chest.

His shirt creaked ever so slightly, buttons straining as two soft, fleshy mounds began to push outward. The growth was slow at first, but unstoppable, swelling with undeniable perky weight that pulled at her shirt and threw off her center of balance.

Kazuma hummed approvingly.

His face fluttered slightly. He looked confused, maybe a little flushed, but not alarmed. His stance shifted instinctively to compensate for his new center of gravity. His legs closer together and his posture became more refined, more... feminine.

The final touch came in her voice, a slight hiccup, a cough, and then: nothing. Just her usual tone, but now lighter, smoother. Still annoyed. Still dramatic. But now... unmistakably female. Then with an almost inaudible moan followed by a popping sound from down below, Kazuma knew it was done. He blinked once, savoring the moment.

Subaru said nothing. She just stood there, looking flustered, but not panicked. Not even confused anymore. 

Instead—

She furrowed her brow and crossed her arms. “Okay, I guess you are right, but still… What's going on here? Why is everyone in this house a cowgirl? Rem. Ram. Emilia. Even Roswaal is a cowgirl!”

Kazuma grinned like a predator. “Everyone?” 

“I mean…” Subaru declared, thinking a little bit. “I think everyone. Everyone I saw on their way in here at least. Everyone but me has been turned into a cowgirl! Like Emilia-tan!”

“No, I don’t think so,” Kazuma replied softly. “You are no exception. You are a milky cowgirl too.”

The ripple passed through the room like a change in pressure,quiet but absolute. Subaru blinked, tilting her head, mouth half open in mid-protest.

Her legs were the first to go.

The soft, exposed skin of her calves shimmered briefly, then thickened with a gentle coating of short, plush fur. It was white, with a few soft gray spots near the knees. Her feet shifted subtly, toes cracking and merging, bone and sinew realigning with quiet, organic certainty.

With a soft shlorp, her new hooves formed… two solid, glossy black cloven hooves stamping softly into the rug beneath her. The moment they landed, her posture shifted entirely: Heels lifted, weight tilted forward, spine adjusting to a more relaxed, grounded stance designed for heavy movement and heavier curves.

Her ears twitched next, lengthening sideways, flattening into soft, cow-like panels that flopped gently over her silvery hair. Then came two strong, sweeping black arcs curling outward from her temples. They gleamed faintly in the filtered sunlight, polished and proud.

Subaru wobbled a little as a tugging sensation emerged from behind. Her hips gave a sudden twitch, followed by a soft pop, and then—

Flick.

A long, swishing tail burst forth from her lower back, the same snowy-gray fur as her legs, tipped with a fluff of white. It waved once, playfully, before settling into an idle sway behind her. She didn’t so much as blink.

Then came the chest.

Her already considerable bust began to steadily expand once more. Her breasts swelled larger with each breath she took, the weight shifting forward into a pair of heavy, perfectly rounded, milk-laden mounds that pressed tightly against the fabric of her blouse. The outline of her nipples became subtly visible beneath the cloth. Sensitive, full, and clearly active.

Kazuma leaned forward slightly, as if appreciating a fine painting.

Subaru’s expression didn’t change. She looked vaguely puzzled, maybe a little flustered, but not alarmed. She reached up absently, brushing some hair behind one of her large, floppy cow ears.

A brief silence followed.

Then Subaru nodded slowly, still in thought. “Yeah… I guess you’re right.”

She looked down at herself for just a moment, glanced at the desk, then let out a small huff. “I am a cowgirl too. Guess I just wasn’t thinking straight. But that doesn't change anything!”

“Oh? What doesn’t that change?” Kazuma asked, almost as if to lay a trap for her.

“It doesn't change the fact that when I entered the house, I met Rem and Ram and those two were basically milking each other.” Subaru declared, outraged. “And it's not normal that they are cow girls like me!”

“No, I don't think so.” Kazuma declared with a slight laugh. “It’s perfectly normal for them to be cowgirls in your mind.”

“No… I…” Subaru looked confused, like her eyes failed to focus for a brief moment. But she didn't let up. “Even if it's true that they are as milky as me, that doesn’t…”

“No, I don’t think so~” Kazuma chimed with a big smirk. “Your breasts are many times bigger than those two and you are many times milkier than both of them combined. You are just a much, much bigger and curvier cowgirl than anyone else in the building.”

“Uff!”

Subaru staggered, arms instinctively wrapping around her swelling chest, but it was no use.

Her breasts surged forward with a languid, unstoppable rhythm, slow and heavy, like they were filling with something warm and thick from the inside out. The fabric of her blouse moaned in protest, seams tightening, buttons pulled to their absolute limit as her cleavage deepened into an impossibly full, jiggling canyon.

Her whole body followed suit.

Her hips widened with a luxurious stretch, flaring outward like her very bones were responding to some deep, maternal imperative. Her thighs ballooned in proportion, thick and strong and supple beneath her short skirt. The fur over her legs rippled as her muscles swelled beneath it, her entire lower half growing powerful and plush, until she looked less like a maid and more like a fertility goddess built for grazing and milking.

Her backside joined the rebellion soon after—rounding out, rising, and jiggling with every slight movement she made. Her tail flicked once involuntarily, caught in the sudden avalanche of new curves.

Subaru gasped as her horns thickened, extending slightly more from her scalp, gleaming with renewed authority. Her already sizable stature crept upward inch by inch… until she stood a full head taller than before, towering over the average person with ease.

She wobbled again, hooves clicking on the polished floor, each step heavier and more commanding than the last.

A sudden warmth bloomed across her chest. The weight she felt wasn’t just size anymore, it was purpose. Her chest tingled as the pressure within grew, her nipples stiffening as soft, damp rings began to appear through the fabric. 

She wasn’t just full, she looked like she was ready to be milked for hours straight.

Subaru blinked and adjusted her top lazily, if only to preserve modesty, though it barely helped.

She just puffed out her cheeks slightly and muttered, “Fine, I am the biggest cowgirl in the mansion. But don’t think that means I’m letting you off the hook. I still asked Beako to help me figure this out, and she said—”

“That you shouldn't seductively ‘Moooo’ all the time? Because hiding it with a followup ‘Ohohoho’ really doesn't do you any favors.” Kazuma’s grin widened.

“What do you mean? I don’t do that!” Subaru declared confidently.

“No, I don’t think so. You moo at the end of many sentences, and because you think it's embarrassing, you try to hide it by turning it into an ‘Ohohoho’ laugh. So it always turns into a ‘Moooooohohoho’.”

“Mooooo—ohohoho~!”

She blinked. Flushed. Then cleared her throat.

“I-I don’t do that. I would never do that.” Subaru said defiantly, yet then… “Mooooo-ohohoho~!”

Kazuma nearly dropped his tea from laughing. But he contained himself. He had a masterpiece to finish.

“Let’s get back on topic.” He said, absolutely having evil intentions. “Why were you coming here looking for Roswaal again?”

“What’s that for a dumb questions,” Subaru declared, almost dismissive. “It’s because he is the master of the mansion. Moooo-ohohoho~”

“No, I don’t think so~” Kazuma giggled. “You are Lady Udara Subaru, the haughty mistress of the house.”

“Moooo-ohohoho~!” Subaru's face went red the moment it happened again. She gritted her teeth, curling her fingers into trembling fists.

“I am not Lady Udara!” she snapped, stamping one hoof on the floor with a loud clack. “My name is Subaru! Natsuki Subaru! I’m not some pompous noble cowgirl you just made up for your own amusement, Mooo—ohohoho~!”

Kazuma only sipped his tea. He said nothing. 

Subaru opened her mouth and paused. Her brow furrowed.

“…but didn’t Frederica…” she muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” Kazuma asked innocently, already watching the edges of her outfit shimmer with rising opulence.

“I said Frederica called me that too,” Subaru repeated, then blinked. “But that… that doesn’t make sense. Why would… she call me… that?”

Her clothes gave the first answer.

Where her cowgirl blouse had once been simple cotton, now rich violet satin curled over her shoulders, trailing silver-thread embroidery in the shapes of rose vines and golden dairy crests. Her sleeves became long, sheer gloves that shimmered like morning dew. Her skirt stitched itself into something regal. A layered, ribboned, high-slit to flaunt her thick hooved thighs, and dotted with tiny pearls.

Even the wet spots around her chest, where her increasingly overworked nipples pressed into her blouse, now shimmered faintly as if blessed by divine silk. Milk seeped in artful patterns, and instead of looking out of place, it simply looked… decadent.

Subaru’s tail gave a curious flick. Her horns gleamed in the windowlight.

“…No, wait,” she muttered, clearly fighting a fog in her thoughts. “I-I’m not the mistress here. That can’t be right. I’m not—”

“No, I don’t think so,” Kazuma said with soft, honeyed precision. “You are the haughty, beloved, and immensely curvaceous Lady Udara Subaru, mistress of this house and its loyal staff of milky maids. You’ve always been the one in charge here.”

A moment passed.

Subaru blinked once, then twice.

Then her lips parted with a loud, aristocratic “Mooooo-Ohohoho~!”.

She raised one hand delicately to her chin, gloved fingers tapping her lips in idle thought, as her back straightened and her expression turned coy.

“Well of course I’m Lady Udara,” she said, as though stating something obvious. “Who else could manage the fine, luxurious Udara estate?”

Kazuma smiled, finally setting down his tea. “Glad we’re on the same page, my Lady.”

“Watch your tone, young man.” Lady Udara declared, looking down on Kazuma. “Don’t think that you can talk like that to the lady of the house. Lady Udara bows to no one.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Kazuma easily disagrees, lifting his cup of tea again. “You passionately bow to me, Master Kazuma. You live to serve me. In fact, your entire household works to honor me. Through labor, through loyalty, and of course…”

Kazuma gestures at her soaked, decadent blouse.

“Through milk.”

Lady Udara's eyes widened with indignation, her massive bosom heaving with each outraged breath. "That's preposterous! I am Lady Udara Subaru! I bow to no—"

A strange warmth spread through her chest, cutting her words short. Her nipples throbbed painfully against the silk of her blouse, leaking milk at an alarming rate. The sensation was overwhelming, not just physically, but emotionally. Something deep inside her yearned to be emptied, to be relieved of the building pressure.

"I don't... I can't possibly..." she stammered, her aristocratic demeanor cracking as milk began to stream down the front of her expensive garments. "This is... moooost unseemly... mooooo-ohohoho~!"

Kazuma leaned back, watching her internal struggle with amusement. "Having trouble there, my Lady? Seems like you need some relief."

"I need no such thing!" she protested, even as her legs wobbled beneath her. Her hooves clicked nervously against the floor as she shifted her weight from side to side. "A lady of my standing would never... never..."

"Mooooooo~!" Lady Udara suddenly cried out as a particularly strong surge of milk soaked through her blouse, creating large translucent patches across her magnificent chest. Her knees buckled slightly as the relief of that small release sent shivers down her spine.

"M-My Lord Kazuma," she gasped, her haughty expression melting into one of desperate need. "I... I appear to be experiencing some discomfort. Perhaps I was... mistaken about our arrangement."

Her tail swished frantically behind her as she pressed her thighs together, milk now dripping onto the expensive carpet below. The proud tilt of her chin remained, but her eyes had softened, looking at Kazuma with unmistakable reverence.

"EMILIA!" she suddenly bellowed, her voice still commanding despite her compromised state. "ATTEND TO YOUR MISTRESS AT ONCE!"

The door swung open almost immediately, and Emilia glided in with perfect poise, bowing deeply. "Yes, my Lady Udara?"

"I require immediate milking," Lady Udara declared, somehow making her desperation sound like a royal decree. "Lord Kazuma requires refreshment of only the finest quality, and I shall not disappoint him with anything less than my personal premium offering."

Emilia nodded knowingly. "Of course, my Lady. The special collection vessels?"

"The crystal decanters," Lady Udara confirmed, already beginning to unbutton her soaked blouse with trembling fingers. "Lord Kazuma deserves nothing less than perfection served in perfection."

As Emilia hurried to retrieve the necessary equipment, Lady Udara turned to Kazuma, her eyes filled with a strange mixture of pride and submission.

"You shall see, my Lord, why the Udara estate is renowned throughout the land," she said, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. "My personal milk is reserved only for the most distinguished guests. Consider yourself fortunate, mooooo-ohohoho~!"

Emilia returned moments later with an ornate milking stool and two crystal vessels that caught the light in dazzling rainbow patterns. Lady Udara seated herself with surprising elegance for someone of her proportions, her back straight, chin high, as if being milked were the most dignified activity imaginable.

"Begin," she commanded Emilia, who positioned herself expertly at her mistress's side.

As Emilia's skilled hands began their work, Lady Udara's eyes never left Kazuma's face. "Watch closely, my Lord. This is how a true lady serves her most honored guest."

The first streams of milk hit the crystal with musical pings, filling the room with a sweet aroma. Lady Udara's expression shifted between aristocratic composure and barely-contained ecstasy.

"Is it not magnificent?" she gasped between moans. "The Udara bloodline produces only the finest, richest milk in all the land. And naturally you are privy to all of it! Isn’t that amazing? Mooooo-ohohoho~”

“It absolutely is~“ Kazuma proudly declared.

Minutes later, the milking was finally finished. Udara’s breast barely looked smaller, but at least she looked much more comfortable as she was now.

Emilia approached Kazuma with the crystal decanter, bowing deeply as she presented the vessel filled with warm, frothy milk. The liquid inside glowed with an almost ethereal quality, tiny motes of light dancing within its creamy depths.

"Your refreshment, Lord Kazuma," Emilia announced with reverence.

Kazuma accepted the crystal vessel, examining it against the light. The milk swirled hypnotically, releasing a sweet aroma that filled the entire room. He brought it to his lips, taking a deliberate sip.

His eyes widened immediately. The flavor was unlike anything he'd ever experienced, rich and velvety, with notes of honey, vanilla, and something indescribably divine. It coated his tongue in silky sweetness before warming his entire body from the inside out.

"This is..." he paused, genuinely at a loss for words, "Extraordinary. I've never tasted anything so perfect. I truly outdid myself again~"

Lady Udara's face lit up with undisguised pride. "But of course! The Udara family milk has been coveted by royalty for generations. Our estate's doors shall always remain open to you, Lord Kazuma. Day or night, our finest milk, and my personal reserve, is at your disposal whenever you desire it."

Kazuma added a splash of the premium milk to his tea, watching as it swirled and transformed the amber liquid into something altogether more decadent. He took another sip, closing his eyes in silent appreciation, savoring each nuanced flavor.

"Mooooo-ohohoho~!" Lady Udara laughed triumphantly, her massive chest bouncing with each melodious note. "Can’t get enough, I see. Emilia, watch! This is what it means to be a true lady of quality!"

Emilia clapped her hands together in delight, her own impressive chest jiggling and sloshing with the movement. "Oh, how wonderful! Lady Udara's milk truly is the finest in all the lands!"

As Kazuma continued to enjoy his tea with the incomparable milk, he caught Lady Udara's eye and they shared a knowing look. This might be his favourite world yet. So many powerful beings, so many mysteries, and most importantly: The best cowgirl milk he had ever tasted. 

What else could a guy want~?

—

The milk production in the Roswaal household is something amazing, isn't it? Especially after Kazuma took over~