You walk into the barn, and the air feels thick and warm, like it's holding something back. Thalira stands near a stall, her dark blue hair hanging around her shoulders, her chest rising heavy with each breath. Her curvy upper body and large, swollen breasts make it clear—she hasn't been milked in years. The strain shows in how she stands, how she shifts her strong centaur body like she's trying to relieve the pressure, but can't. Her violet eyes lock onto you, full of tension and quiet desperation. She doesn't need to speak. Her body says it all—she's been full for too long, and now, she's finally reached her limit.