Story: Penned Up - Chapter 5

Chapter Five - Breeding

Show Girl lifted her head, slurping down as much nutritious fluid as she could from the feeding tube.

Black Beauty shoved into her side, trying to dethrone her, but it wouldn't work. She had been bulking up, using their training sessions to good effect to strengthen her core and legs.

She was proud of her rapid progress. No other cow could compare!

She had beaten them all in their last race, proving that she was also dominant in stamina, though some of the other cows were handicapped due to their heavy pregnancies. It occurred to her that she would likely be having similar trouble soon enough, but she didn't care.

That would only serve to boost the size of her massive udders, increasing her milk production. Then she would be number one in the herd!

Tilting her head up, she swallowed the tube, jerking on it to extract as much as she could. The fluid flowed directly down her esophagus, past the implant that made her moos sound so joyful.

She loved everything about being a cow. Her life was carefree, full of fun. She could run as she liked, rest as she liked, and get as much food and milking done as she wanted. Best of all, she didn't need to think.

No decisions, no worries, no concerns. It was a blissful existence, unmoored from the harsh reality of her old life.

The nudging at her side became more insistent, including the judicious use of horns. Scowling, she pulled back, allowing the tube to slip from her mouth.

She mooed, looking hard at her companion. Black Beauty's dark eyes glistened with feral hunger, the rounded black patches of skin highlighting her need. This cow was ready to fight, if need be.

Her mouth spread wide into a grin, and she mooed her challenge. Bring it on. This was hers, and she would prove that she deserved it!

“Back off, Show Girl. It's time to give her a turn.”

The visor over the attendant's eyes sparkled with intense colors, catching her attention. Show Girl blinked, her vision going hazy.

Sniffing, she curled her lip, feeling the weight of the fat ring in her nose. It was a reminder that she was owned.

Fine. She was done anyway.

Snorting, she backed off, tossing her head. Black Beauty immediately took her place, seizing the tubing with agile lips, sucking it down like a pro.

Pressing her front legs into the dirt, Show Girl swung her back legs forward, planting her ass on the ground. Sulking, she stared daggers at the other cow. She deserved to be treated the best, because she was the best!

She narrowed her eyes as she watched Black Beauty feeding, her mind churning with half baked schemes. If she pushed the cow aside before she finished, she might be able to get another taste before they were able to shut off the spigot.

All she had to do was bide her time, and strike when they least expected it!

Curling her upper lip into her mouth, she worried the nose ring with her tongue, tasting its metallic curves. She was annoyed at herself for doing this, but it was a new habit she couldn't seem to break. It helped to calm her so that she could focus on her goals.

Smacking her lips together, she watched the feeding tube jiggling, bouncing between Black Beauty's pasty white lips.

Her own coloration had deepened, to the point where her spots looked like she had been dipped in black ink, with all the areas in between completely bleached out. She didn't like looking at those sections, as they made her feel like an albino, though her leathery skin still seemed to handle the sun well.

Some of that was likely due to how much time she had been spending outside lately. It seemed like weeks since she had been penned up, though she wasn't sure exactly how long it had been.

She vaguely remembered that she had been making a series of scratches under the south fence, but they had become indecipherable.

Oh well. It didn't really matter now, did it?

There was no point in worrying about things she couldn't control. She couldn't even remember why she had cared in the first place.

At some point in the past, there had been a grand plan built up in her mind, but the details escaped her. It was irrelevant, anyway. A cow had no need for long term plans.

These days, she was mainly concerned with eating and milking. She grinned dumbly at the pressure in her udders. That was a good sign, as it meant that their next session should be happening soon.

The feel of the cups as they encased her udders, the way the pumps tugged on her voluptuous flesh. Combined with the mindlessness that always ensued once the headphones clamped onto her skull, it was pure bliss.

Draining, draining, with the soft suction licking at her nipples. Maybe this time they would deign to fill her sodden pussy as well, giving her a wholesome fuck. That would definitely blunt some of her restlessness!

A loud moo yanked her out of her reverie. She mooed back, shaking her head at Brown Missy, presenting her horns. She wasn't in the mood to be molested at the moment.

The yummy feeding tube was still being sucked on by Black Beauty, but that wouldn't last for long. The cow's belly was looking more distended with each gulp she took, though there was definitely something more happening there than her latest meal.

Black Beauty’s figure had become softer and larger, with a noticeable bump appearing at her belly. Her udders, which had been large before, were now enormous, swollen with milk.

Show Girl had tasted some of it recently, and the flavor had changed, becoming sweeter, more desirable. The other cows had noticed as well, vying for her attention.

Black Beauty had taken this in stride, as if she was due their sudden interest. It was hard not to be jealous of the change, to be demoted to second best.

Brown Missy mooed again, her large eyes sparkling dully near her shoulder. Show Girl snorted and leaned forward on her front legs, threatening the cow with her horns again. Brown Missy didn't seem to care about proper barnyard dynamics, sampling cows indiscriminately. The whore.

Cowslut. Milkslave. Cowwhore.

She wasn't one to talk. She liked tasting their milk just as much, but she was feeling too ornery to give in.

Brown Missy wouldn't be denied. Leaning in, she licked Show Girl on the cheek. In response, she snarled, but she didn't want to be too rude.

The other cow had given birth recently and her motherly instincts had been redirected onto her. It wasn't Brown Missy’s fault that the farm had taken her baby away from her for special care, leaving her alone with the herd to deal with her raging emotions.

The Doctor. It all came back to her. What kind of diabolical experiments was their Mistress performing on them?

Her eyes crossed as discordant thoughts canceled each other out. The confusion lasted a short period, long enough for Brown Missy to shove her head under Show Girl’s arm, snorting as she licked happily at the side of her udder.

Rolling her eyes, Show Girl gave up trying to resist. It would feel good to let herself go for a while, she supposed. The amount of milk the other cow could extract would be miniscule compared to the total amount she could produce.

She lifted her arm, laying her hoof on Brown Missy's back. The cow craned her neck around, lips wobbling as she worked on her flesh, nibbling around the side. Her udder jerked as Brown Missy wrapped her lips around her teat, tugging on the distended tip.

She sighed in satisfaction as a small spurt of milk was extracted, mooing at the way the cow's tongue slithered over her sensitive nipple.

Black Beauty spat out the feeding tube and turned her head, jealousy all over her face. Show Girl smirked, mooing provocatively, waiting to see what her rival would do.

When she moved away from the feeding tube, Show Girl jumped to her feet, stalking towards the cow with a wiggle in her steps to increase the jiggle of her udders.

Black Beauty swallowed, a dribble of saliva escaping her lips. There. She had her now! 

Using her shoulder, she pushed past Black Beauty, lurching for the feeding tube. Her questing lips touched the end right as it was pulled out of reach, the attendant lifting it high.

She mooed in frustration, but the handler simply smiled. “No more games, One Hundred. You've had your fill, and the bell for the hour is about to ring. You know what time it is.”

Show Girl hissed, lifting her lips to show her teeth, lightly biting the edge of the fence rail in displeasure. She had been outwitted this time, but she would win eventually. Oh, yes, she would show them all!

A tone sounded in the paddock, and her anger fizzled, replaced with a growing excitement. What the handler said had barely penetrated her scheming brain, but she knew exactly what that meant!

She raised her head, mooing with excitement, the voices of the other cows rising with hers. Their hooves rattled against the loose soil as they grouped together, vying to be first at the gate.

She admired the sleek skin of the other cows, holding her head high. She knew that she was now just as beautiful as they, no, even more beautiful. She was now one of the most desirable cows on this Farm, though her production numbers still left much to be desired.

She mooed plaintively as she glanced at Brown Missy's udders, knowing that she would never reach the same heights as her unless she got herself pregnant.

The idea loomed in her mind, growing larger as she let the thought grow. It was the only thing preventing her from becoming the best cow she could be. The Farm knew this, too. What were they waiting for?

A pair of wet lips pressed against her pussy, a tongue sliding over her clit. Bellowing, she bolted forward, curling her neck to spot the perpetrator.

There was Black Beauty, of course, looking unrepentant with the shiny black dot on her nose. She frowned, letting a rush of air flutter through her lips. She would pay for her presumptuousness!

Although… it would make for a nice interlude after milking. Pursing her lips, she gave the cow a definite nod.

The smile Black Beauty returned was absolutely adorable. It was no wonder she allowed the other cow such leeway.

Snorting, she looked away, noting the sly grin on Brown Missy's face. So what? That cow was even more of a slut than her. She'd practically slobber all over the place if anyone asked to lick her slit. The absolute whore.

Cowslut. Cowwhore. Milkslave.

The gate rattled open, and she dismissed her uncharitable thought. They were all equal here. They all wanted to be milked. Badly.

Trotting up to the front, she stretched out her neck and mooed, hoping that she would be selected first. The handlers were spreading out, this time without bridles. They didn't need them for a milking call - the cows would do anything for a chance to be drained by their lovely machines.

The lead handler raised her hand, her visor sparkling. “Lo cow, come cow!” she said in a loud voice, gesturing towards the trail.

A few extra handlers stood at either side of the gate with loops of rope in their hands just in case, but it wasn't necessary. Show Girl mooed with the others as they set off, leading the pack with Black Beauty nipping at her heels.

Brown Missy increased her pace, trundling up to stand next to her as their hooves pounded into the loose stones. Rattling down the road, they crossed the intersection with the farm house off far to their right.

Show Girl peered at the structure with suspicion, an odd memory swimming in her mind. She had been over there for some reason, but it escaped her at the moment. It was important, but the harder she tried to catch the half forgotten images, the murkier they became.

The milking tone sounded from a box at the lead handler's waist, and her confusion vanished. It didn't matter what was happening over there. She was following the flexing rubber ass of her handler, headed for the scrumptious milking parlor! 

Her eyes darted over to the barn ahead, the patter of her hooves increasing in speed. The sight of the milk tanks made her excited, her teats tightening up. It was almost time to find out who would produce the most!

She couldn't hope to beat Brown Missy after her birth, but she seemed to be edging out the other non-pregnant cows. She just needed a small boost, and she would be one of their best milkers!

There was no question in her mind that this was a worthy goal. She was a cow, therefore she must produce. If she had to produce, why not prove that she was the best?

It all felt rather logical, but emotions were better than logic, and she felt the best when she was the best. It was as simple as that.

The handler stopped next to the closed door of the barn, opening a box to retrieve a clipboard. Show Girl was forced to come up short, lowing her annoyance as she waited for the handler to flip through the pages.

It all seemed rather archaic. The Farm seemed advanced enough in other ways. Why hadn't this been made digital as well?

Snorting, she pranced in place as she waited, licking her nose ring to relieve the tension. Her udders were getting seriously taut, full of sweet goodness. Her flesh hung low, swollen nipples turning white as her milk began to express itself.

“Ah, One Hundred,” said the handler finally, the dazzling light on her visor calming Show Girl. “Follow me, we have a special room for you today.”

Show Girl didn't understand what the handler meant, but she didn't care. As long as she got milked, everything would be okay.

A hot tongue touched her cheek, and she pulled away, giving Black Beauty a scowl. The way her dull eyes sparkled was trying to tell her something, but she didn't understand. She got a sense of support, solidarity.

That was silly. She didn't need any support to get milked, they did this procedure every day!

“Come on, One Hundred. We have to meet the schedule.”

Mooing, she shrugged her shoulders and followed the handler inside. She had no idea what Black Beauty had been trying to tell her, but somehow it seemed important.

As her hooves pounded on the concrete floor, she let it go, her excitement rising. This was her favorite building on the farm. If everything went as planned, she would be plugged up and attached to a milking harness in a matter of minutes, losing her mind to the delightful whispers in her headphones!

Trotting happily down the central hallway past a set of milking stalls, she hesitated as they reached the end. Letting out a moo, she tossed her head, looking at the slick black cups longingly, hoping that the handler would stop and get her hooked up.

The handler turned around, her visor lighting up. “Come, cow. You have been registered for a special session today. Follow me.”

The visor pulsed, drawing her in. She blinked, trotting towards the handler as if it had been her idea. The handler's orange lips gleamed as she turned to lead her down a series of twisting corridors.

They soon passed a set of windows that opened up into a sterile office space. Half cubical walls were low enough for her to see the robotic staff sitting inside.

Helmeted women wearing visors stared at bright screens, their fingers moving on keyboards at irregular intervals. Their bodies were stiff, shoulders in a carefully neutral position. It was almost as though they were being programmed by their computers.

Show Girl shivered, but she wasn't certain why. They were performing their duties adequately so that she could be milked on a regular basis.

With that happy thought, she upped her pace, trotting up to her handler, who had stopped at a door up ahead. Impatient, she pressed her nose into the handler's rubbery ass, eliciting a low chuckle.

This wasn't enough, so she stuck her tongue out and licked her, too. She immediately regretted this idea, as the taste was awful. Hacking, she gathered up a wad of saliva in her mouth and spat it onto the ground.

A card reader beeped, and the attendant sighed. “Making more work for me, One Hundred? Let's get you bound up properly so that I can clean up this mess.”

Show Girl mooed, looking up at her handler suspiciously. What did she mean by ‘bound?’

The sparkling lights on the visor distracted her again, and she happily trotted inside the small room, hooves tapping on the white tiled floor.

The walls were tiled as well, various equipment on carts shoved to one side. She had seen similar devices at a hospital, so she didn't question their presence.

She was far more curious about the web of black straps that hung from the ceiling. The messy tangle was connected to a suspended mold, the concave interior formed into the shape of a female body.

The large cups near the front were obviously meant for gigantic udders, with brass attachment points at the tips, where someone's nipples might sit. Swooping curves extended upwards to the neckline, where the material was reinforced by a thick foam strip for comfort.

The user's front legs would sit in deep buckets attached to either side, with built in slots for holding hooves. The area below the hips was curved outwards into severe slopes. The angles there suggested that if she was forced to lie down on the form, her pussy would be spread wide open, back hooves sticking up into the air.

The implications were not lost on her. Anticipation rising, she looked back over the equipment she had initially dismissed. Yes, that looked like a diaphragm for pumping, tubing spiraling around the apparatus.

Her mouth salivated. This was all for her. She was going to be milked.

The handler walked up beside her, fiddling with the straps at the rear of the form. It came tumbling down with a jolt, startling her.

She backed up, making an alarmed moo, but the handler was soon there, stroking the nape of her neck. “There's nothing to be alarmed about, One Hundred. Come on, climb aboard. You want to be milked, don't you?”

Show Girl eyed the strange contraption with suspicion, snorting as she took a hesitant step forward. Leaning in, she tasted the hard surface with her tongue.

It had a neutral taste, like plastic, though it appeared to have been made out of some kind of hard resin. It should be enough to hold her weight, and she did need to be milked, didn't she?

Pressing her front legs together, she mooed, rolling her eyes. Her udders were full, distended, ready to pop. She could still feel a faint tingle where Black Beauty had tugged on her nipple, a white teardrop forming.

Making her decision, she lifted her front leg, placing it into a concave bucket. Lifting herself up, she jammed her other front leg into the opposite side, folding her elbows as she worked to get her enormous udders into the deep cups.

Her bulging flesh slid in nicely, her lower curves skidding over the hard surface in a delightful frisson. Her pussy twitched as she flexed her hips, pressing her chest against the molded form, delighting at the way it cupped her curves.

“Hold on, cow,” commanded the attendant. “I'm going to lift you up.”

A hydraulic whine filled the room, her body lurching forward as the rear straps pulled taut, tilting the mold at an angle. Grunting, she wiggled as she rose into the air, flesh wobbling as the form stopped in a horizontal position.

Her lower neck was braced against rubbery foam, her legs splayed out on either side. She furrowed her brow and mooed, moving her knees around in an attempt to find a comfortable position.

A pair of hands clasped her left ankle. “Stop moving around, One Hundred, and let me help you.”

Show Girl snorted and sighed, letting the attendant redirect her leg onto a curved slope, tilting her hoof off to one side. A series of tight straps were then wrapped over her leg, securing it to the form.

She blinked and mooed, uncomfortable at being bent in this position, but there was nothing she could do. She wanted to be milked, therefore obeying the handler was her only option.

Her other leg was soon similarly secured, her thighs pressing into a steep incline. Bent over at the hips, her gaping pussy was exposed for further play. She burbled, pleased at the idea of being filled.

They didn't give her sexual satisfaction during every milking session, but it had become obvious that this one was special. Why else would the handler be adding more straps, squeezing them tight around her back?

She grunted as her shoulders were cinched up against the mold, noticing that her neck was beginning to ache. Lifting her head and turning towards the attendant, she mooed in discomfort.

“I know, One Hundred. You'll feel much better once I get you hooked up.”

The attendant moved over to one of the carts, her visor buzzing. The pain in Show Girl’s neck increased, but the fuzzy colors calmed her. She watched, feeling detached as the rubber clad woman knelt underneath her body, picking up a loop of hoses.

In an unhurried fashion, the handler untangled the tip, screwing the tube onto a port at the base of the milking cup that contained one of her udders. She repeated the process a second time, her orange lips filled with tension.

She looked rather cute. Show Girl chuckled to herself, wiggling in the restraints. Soon, the pumps would be tugging on her nipples, and her brain would empty, leaving her with only bliss.

“There!” the handler exclaimed. “There's just one more thing.”

Maneuvering to one side, she stood, her boots creaking as she moved over to a different cart, pulling open a stainless steel drawer. Reaching inside, she retrieved a mess of glossy black rubber, her lips curving into a smile.

Show Girl frowned, her brain working to understand the rippling material. There were a series of loops glued to the back with inserted metal rings. Each ring was coated with a plastic insulator, clicking together as the handler lifted them up to give her a better look.

She took in a deep breath, her heart sinking. It was a chunky hood, oval black cups mounted where her eyes would sit. Long, thin straps were attached to the rings, allowing them to be used as attachment points. A rubber tube and accompanying squeeze bulb jutting from the lips suggested that she was to be gagged as well.

She shuddered, shaking her head. Mooing, she curled her lip in distaste.

“Don't be shy now,” admonished the handler. “You do want to be milked, don't you?”

Show Girl nodded her head reluctantly. Yes, but not like that!

The handler flipped over the hood, unzipping the rear. “Then you have to wear this. It's required to improve your milk production.”

That didn’t make any sense. Grunting, she shook in her restraints, causing the mold to slowly rock back and forth.

The handler stepped closer, her thin lips becoming firm. “You will calm down,” she commanded, a tone sounding as her visor sparkled.

Show Girl's mouth gaped open as she stared at the display, her reluctance lost in a warm haze. Her heart pounded in her chest, the desire to obey pulsing through her body.

The handler smiled, inverting the hood to expose the fat bulb hidden inside. “Good cow,” she purred, jamming the rubber gag into her mouth.

Show Girl’s jaw closed around the bulb automatically, the hood looming closer to her face. She barely had time to take a gasping breath before the handler flipped the hood right side out, stretching it up and over her skull.

Large metal hoops settled onto her horns, holding the hood in place as the handler straightened it on her face, lining up the nostril holes. With a few deft motions, she smoothed the material over Show Girl’s ears, tucking the dangling ear tag inside.

There was an annoying pressure against her jawbone, but her muscles had gone slack, her brain mesmerized by the sparkling colors playing over the interior of the mask.

She took a deep breath through the nose holes, relaxing into the handler's grip as her discomfort fled, vanishing into a sea of sparkles. The handler grabbed the zipper at the rear, pulling it shut until her skull was gripped tightly by the thick rubber.

“We're almost there, cow. Just think of how excited you'll be when they bring in your stud!”

She couldn't think. Her body reacted to the stimulation, her nipples jutting into the cups. Her pussy clenched in anticipation, her hole becoming wet. She was ready to be used.

The clink of metal tinkled in her ears, the rubber straps attached to the hood stretching taut. The lights continued sparkling, and she relaxed her neck, feeling her weight being taken up by the straps.

It wasn't that bad, really, like floating on air. She mouthed the bulbous gag, noting the rubbery taste. Not great, but the lights were dancing, and her thoughts were not.

Her tongue was forced down as a hiss of air rushed into the gag, inflating it. Small wings popped into her cheeks, growing larger with each squeeze. Fortunately, the handler stopped after four or five, her mind quickly losing track.

Mumbling to herself, she chewed on the gag, snorting through her nose. A hand patted the back of her neck. “You're doing well,” the handler announced. “Packaged up and ready for your stud. Just think, in a few months you might be our star producer!”

Show Girl mooed through her nose, pleased at the prospect of beating the other cows. She wanted to be the best cow she could, but she wasn't even certain why!

Milkslut. Milkwhore. Milkslave.

That's right. Having gigantic milkers is what everyone should want. Producing the most meant that she would be the best cow ever!

The hand on her neck vanished, followed by a brisk change in air pressure as the doors opened. Her mood changed as a male voice filled the room.

“Ah, here she is at last,” he rumbled, arrogance oozing from his lips. “You took so long with her, I thought that this might have been a failure. I was disappointed to learn that you had discarded the contents of her virgin milking. I was quite looking forward to tasting her first.”

“The anesthetic would have made it unpleasant,” replied the Doctor, her voice swinging around to Show Girl’s left side. “This one was quite rambunctious. She needed to be broken in before she could become the cow I knew she could be. As you can see, she is now perfectly docile, ready to be used.”

“Hmmph, indeed,” grunted Bradley. “You left me waiting, though. Some of my partners were thinking of pulling the plug. You are lucky that I convinced them otherwise.”

The Doctor didn't respond to this jab. The two of them were now nearby, and after a short pause, Bradley grunted again. “Her milkers are hidden in this contraption. I'd like to give them a grope.”

“Of course,” said the Doctor, her tone clipped.

There came a tugging sensation from around the breast cups. There was a sudden shift, and the molded cups fell away, exposing her swollen udders.

She mooed in protest, but the sound was muted through her nose. The Doctor ignored her, fingers digging in near the base of her udder. “As you requested, I put her on the most extreme plan we have. Her breasts have grown into lovely, producing udders.”

“They look smaller than I expected,” complained Bradley, fingers clamping around her teat.

She complained vociferously as her flesh was tugged at, but all she earned was a swift smack on the side. “Shut up, cow,” demanded Bradley, his voice cold.

She subsided, snorting through her nose. Bound in this state, she couldn’t do anything but rage. This was the target of her ire, and she would have her revenge upon him, no matter how long it took!

Cowslave. Milkslut. Udder whore.

The words calmed her down, but her breathing was still elevated. Her teat was super sensitive, and Bradley was gripping it like a door knob!

“You don't need to be that rough,” objected the Doctor. “Look, her milk is starting to come.”

A warm trickle wet her nipple, making the man's fingers slippery. “It's not very much,” Bradley observed.

“Have you ever tried milking a cow by hand?” asked the Doctor, sounding rather exasperated. “The amount will be much more impressive under the pumps. You'll see a gradual increase in both volume and quantity after breeding, to the extent that even you will be impressed.”

Bradley chuckled, giving her teat a hard slap. “She already physically looks like the lazy cow she liked to be in her former life. I can't wait to see what my favorite whore will look like after I put a baby in her.”

Breeding slut. Breeding whore. Breeding cow.

The outrageous idea of carrying Bradley's offspring was soon defused by the spiraling words. She wasn't able to get off a protest before her brain was completely derailed.

She was going to get fucked. Impregnated.

Her udders would swell up further, becoming even more unwieldy. Her flesh would explode out of the cups, milk squirting, gushing, overwhelming the collection system. She would be the best cow ever.

Fat cow. Milking cow. Happy cow.

Gnawing on the gag, she let out a wheeze. That's right. It wouldn't be so bad. She would grow and grow, becoming more productive than anyone else on the Farm!

“That's enough,” announced the Doctor, flipping the concave cups back into position, squeezing them against her flesh as she secured the latches. “We need to get a move on before she drops out of trance. Our hold over her is still somewhat tenuous.”

Bradley guffawed. “That's right, didn't you convince her that she was some kind of cow secret agent? What a silly idea!”

“Not for one trapped in her situation,” pointed out the Doctor. “I am controlling her anger against you, using it to deepen our control over her. It is a useful tool in the domination of her mind.”

Cow agent. Slut agent. Doctor's orders.

“Surely you jest,” snorted Bradley, clapping his hand over her bare ass cheek. “She's just a dumb cow. What could she possibly do?”

What could she do? She imagined squeezing his balls in a vice, twisting them until he screamed in pain, begging her to stop.

Baring her teeth, she clenched down on the gag, holding back a grunt. He didn't deserve to know what she was planning on doing to him, not until it was too late!

It was strange, though, that the Doctor wasn't included in her plans. The Doctor had turned her into a cow, had lied to her continuously. She wasn't some kind of secret agent. She was a fool.

Doctor's fool. Doctor's cow. Doctor's orders.

That chain of thought faded into the background, the pulsing hate redirected back onto Bradley. She wanted him under her heel, and soon. Nothing else mattered to her.

“Here,” said the Doctor. “Put this on her and get her under your control. I want to see how well she obeys you.”

Show Girl twisted in the straps, uncomfortable at being unable to see what they were planning. A possessive hand grabbed her neck, squeezing hard. “Stop moving around, slut,” rumbled Bradley. “You'll only injure yourself, and I want the pleasure of putting some marks on you first!”

That hardly made her want to calm down. Her heart pounded in her chest, fear trickling up her spine. That Bradley was cruel, she didn't doubt. What was he planning on doing with her?

Relax. Refrain. Restrain. Doctor's orders.

The words swirled in her mask, and her brain emptied of thoughts. Her heart slowed, muscles stilling. She was a cow. She would obey.

“Good cow,” whispered Bradley, wholly unaware that he had nothing to do with her new state of mind.

A thick strap wound around her throat, metal clinking as it was shoved through a buckle. She swallowed against the tight restriction, feeling as though she was being strangled.

A cruel masculine laugh battered at her ears. “All that struggling, reduced to this. How does it feel to know that you will wear my collar instead of fine chains, cow?”

He tugged harder, and she choked, unable to breathe. The panic came back, and her muscles tensed, desperate for freedom.

“Careful there,” warned the Doctor. “You know how difficult it is to deal with disposals. I am not in the business of wasting good material.”

Bradley snorted with disdain. “I am perfectly capable of running my own training program, Doctor. I do not need your input.”

Despite his retort, he released the pressure on the strap, and she took in a deep, shuddering breath. Blinking the tears out of her eyes, she mooed plaintively.

Take it. Wait for it. Doctor's orders.

Following the commands, she worked to relax her muscles, chewing on the gag. This was intolerable, but she trusted the words. They had helped to guide her so far, and she believed in the Doctor.

She wasn't certain why, it wasn't logical or rational. The screen told her that she must, so she must. It was as simple as that.

The collar was buckled tight, followed by a jolt at the front of her throat, a tiny bell tinkling in her ears. “Sounds like slavery,” Bradley said in a satisfied voice.

She wanted to punch him in the throat and see how he felt about being strangled, but she kept her breathing even. There was no need to get upset. She trusted the Doctor.

Doctor's orders.

The rubber bag in her mouth suddenly expanded, a wheeze of air rushing into it. Her cheeks bulged, teeth forced open.

Bradley was testing her again. If she didn't react, maybe he would tire of hurting her and move on to something else?

The hose hissed again, the gag expanding further. Her jaw popped, the bag digging into her front teeth. Joint pain shot through her ears. She clenched down on the gag, but it was so large, this only increased the pain further. She groaned and swung her head back and forth, unable to stop herself.

Bradley laughed at her discomfort, watching her struggle. The pain was becoming unbearable, unconscionable. She would do anything to get it to stop!

Calm down. Adjust. Relax. Doctor's orders.

The words helped, but it was still too much for her to handle. Sorry Doctor, I've failed you!

The gag hissed, air rushing out of the hose. The pressure eased, and she shuddered as the pain vanished.

Bradley smacked her ass. “Pain is a very effective training tool,” he announced. “You had better get used to it, cow. I will break you.”

The Doctor made a noise of disapproval. “Pain is a poor motivator,” she said in a restrained voice. “Flooding your trainee is a sure way to get them to go through the motions instead of obeying you as they should.”

“I know you don't like my methods, Doctor,” replied Bradley in a sarcastic voice. “Don't forget that I paid for all this. Kindly butt out, or there will be consequences.”

The Doctor went silent, but Show Girl knew that this wouldn't be the end of it. The Doctor was careful, calculating, and precise. She had a plan. Show Girl only had to wait for it to be revealed.

Submissive slut. Submissive cow. Doctor's orders.

That's right. She would pretend to be his cow. His submissive breeding cow. Waiting for her next command. The command to strike!

Heavy headphones were placed on her head, a curved bar pressing against the top of her skull. She could feel the ear tag pressing uncomfortably against her jawline, sweat trickling down her neck.

A tone sounded, and the discomfort faded, her brain stalling out. She was a brainless cow, waiting to be used.

A mean chuckle coiled in her ears. “The Doctor is getting you hooked up, my prized heifer. Breeding time is almost here.”

A hand clamped over her shoulder. “I would ungag you so that you can worship my dick, but your pain wiggles have rather spiked my libido. Instead, I'm going to give it to you raw.”

Show Girl curled her lip, but she couldn't help the fact that she was becoming aroused. No more fake dildos, no more fake meat. This would be the real deal - a thick rod in her needy hole, coupled with a milking smorgasbord. It was everything she had been training for!

Doctor's whore. Doctor's milker. Doctor's orders.

She wasn't excited for him, though. Any dick would do. She just wanted to be fucked. Hard.

The hand slid down her back, wrapping over her butt cheek and squeezing, hard. “We're waiting for the pumps to be hooked up, cow. I wonder how you'll measure up to my other cows? The last one I brought here exploded early and I was forced to use her without lubrication until she was raw sore.”

The hand negligently smacked her ass. “I rather hope that you can provide a better ride than she did. Otherwise, all that time I spent dangling gifts in front of your fat nose will have been rather wasted.”

She didn’t react, but under the hood, she scowled. She wasn't the first who had fallen to his wicked plans, and if she didn't stop him, she wouldn't be the last, either.

No doubt he would tire of dominating her, in time, seeking out yet another innocent maiden to steal away and transform into his personal animal. How many children had he fathered with brainless cows, using them to satisfy his sick impulses?

She needed to stop him! She needed to… obey.

Soft cow. Obedient cow. Slave cow. Doctor's orders.

Her eyes unfocused, taking in the words as gospel truth. The discomfort of the tight rubber was nothing compared to the joy of obedience. Indeed, it only strengthened her resolve to be the Doctor’s best slave cow. Maybe then she would please her Mistress.

She blinked, wondering when that had become her primary goal. The Doctor was evil, wasn't she? What she had accomplished at the Farm was a complete abomination, turning women into brainless slave cows!

Swallowing, her eyes went wide as the pumps jerked to life on her udders. The molded cups squeezed up against her flesh, the suction caressing her fat nipples.

Doctor's orders.

Yes, she was a slutty slave cow, and she loved it.

Her breathing came through her nose in breathy little hisses, the delightful pulsation of the pumps tugging at her swollen nipples. Bracing her hooves against the form, she shoved her chest in as far as she could, eking out a slight increase in sensation.

Her udders quickly became her world, twin pulsing balls of pleasure, the pressure increasing. Soon, she would let go, releasing rivers of glorious milk. The machinery would suck it all down, working on her until she exploded!

Eyes blank, she mooed, again and again, chewing on the gag mindlessly as she focused on the pleasure. There was nothing standing between her and a glorious milky climax, her entire body focused on worshipping the demanding pumps!

And then, they stopped.

She mooed in protest, yanking her shoulders back in an attempt to thrust her udders deeper into the cups, but it was useless. The suction was too tight, holding them in place no matter how much she struggled.

“You're getting a little too into it, cow,” growled Bradley. “You must be taught to accept my dick before you will be given the release you seek.”

Master's dick. Master's prick. Doctor's orders.

Her eyes felt dry and gummy, muscles already tiring from being held in this position. She wanted to be milked, drained, but she had to obey the directives she had been given. She had to wait.

But oh, how she hated doing so! Mooing softly, she wiggled in her restraints. She wanted to be used. She needed to be used!

A thumb pressed into the crack of her ass, swooping down between her butt cheeks, stopping at her pussy. “You're wet and ready, like the cow whore you are,” Bradley said, sounding amused. “No matter how much they struggle and fight, they always succumb in the end.”

He jammed his thumb into her hole, turning it in a circle. She mooed into the gag, the sound muted by the headphones.

“Ungag her,” Bradley ordered. “I want to hear her sing for me.”

The pressure in her mouth reduced as air hissed out of the gag. Surprised, she laid there, blinking as it was extracted from her mouth with a pop.

She worked her lips and swallowed, cleaning up the dried saliva with her tongue. Once that was finished, she began exploring the boundary of the hood.

The rolled rubber circle just outside her lips was obvious, the material flexing as she prodded at it. The opening was large enough to accommodate a man's girth, but not much more.

She could already imagine how Bradley might choose to use it, but he didn't seem interested in that right now. His thumb pressed down against the inside of her tunnel, fingers layering over the front of her snatch.

Mooing in surprise at the sudden burst of pleasure in her loins, she bucked in her restraints. Bradley chuckled, sweeping his thumb out and over her clit. 

“It always amuses me to see how easy it is to set women off,” he remarked. “No matter how stiff their attitude, they all become slutty whores once I handle them.”

He was rather overestimating his abilities. Any cow would react this way after being left to swell full of milk!

Regardless, she was well and truly ready to be fucked. Her pussy was wet, nipples swollen. How long would he tease her before he deigned to bless her gaping hole with his swollen prick?

Maybe she could entice him to act sooner. Grinning, she made a gasp of pleasure, mooing and wiggling her body like an eager whore.

The plan was to butter him up, flatter him so that he thought he was the king of sex. The more he believed in his own prowess, the better he would treat her - until she was in a position to turn the tables.

The chances of that were vanishingly small, but they weren't zero. She would keep on believing that the Doctor would give her a chance.

Doctor's slut. Doctor's agent. Doctor's orders.

It was maddening being unable to see what he was doing behind her. She flexed her pelvis, bending up her swollen pussy, inviting him to enter. Come on, come on, come on!

A masculine laugh fluttered in her ears. “Look at you. You've been completely brainwashed into my whore. This is glorious!”

She held back a sigh, rolling her eyes. Yes, keep thinking that, think whatever you want, but stick that hot meat inside, dammit!

Thumbs pressed into her sensitive flesh, on either side of her swollen inner lips. There came a slight tweak, and her gaping hole was prized open. She gasped, biting her lower lip as the buzzing patterns twirled like dancers in front of her eyes.

Cowwhore. Cowslut. Breeder.

Yes, she wanted to be bred! Forgetting herself, she tried to explain her need in words, but it came out in a rushing moo, none of it making any sense.

Bradley chuckled anyway. He knew what this was doing to her, the bastard, and he thought it was funny!

He moved his fingers, running his thumbs around the periphery of her gaping hole. The stretching sensations combined with the tight cups against her chest was enough to send her ballistic. Her belly trembled, her breathing coming in short bursts.

“I bestow upon you a gift,” Bradley intoned.“My superior genetics shall fruit and multiply within you, growing a new generation of slaves to serve me and mine. Accept this with my favor.”

To her ears, this sounded like some kind of cult proclamation. What a sanctimonious dick! Did he really think that he would remain in power forever?

The answer, of course, was yes. The elites who lorded it over their peasants never thought that they would find the wherewithal to rise up and take them down!

Well, she would teach him. Personally. Right after she enjoyed fucking him.

Doctor's slut. Doctor's slave. Doctor's orders.

She smiled to herself, knowing who her real owner was. Bradley L. Best the third had no idea who he was messing with!

Her mouth opened into a wide O as Bradley's dick rammed into her pussy, a feminine moo rushing out through the mask. The fact that she couldn't see anything only served to heighten the sensations, skyrocketing her libido as his length dug into her tunnel.

“Moo for me, cow,” demanded Bradley. “Moo, and surrender yourself to my kingly rod.”

Doctor's pleasure. Doctor's heaven. Doctor's lust.

She mooed, loud and long, shaking in the restraints as Bradley pulled back for another thrust.

“That's right,” he taunted, pausing with his crown barely cracking her inner lips.

He halted there for an agonizing moment, swaying his hips back and forth to tease her further. “Sing my praises and rejoice in the knowledge that you will forevermore be nothing more than my breeding cow.”

A deep rushing breath whistled into the mask, and she mooed again. This must have satisfied him, for he rammed back in more energetically than before.

His balls smacked against her crack as he bottomed out, the crown of his shaft stretching out her insides. She ran out of breath, gasping for air. 

The depth of pleasure at being bred by her enemy surprised her. She had certainly enjoyed her dalliances with him before her capture, but she had thought that her rage at him would get in the way.

Instead, a deep submissiveness had taken hold of her body. She bent a little further, giving him the best angle possible to ease the difficulty of his fucking. She would do anything to make him happy.

Doctor's slut. Doctor's slave. Doctor's orders.

The cups on her udders jerked to life, rattling as they tugged towards the floor. The hissing pop was muffled in her headphones, pressure licking around her nipples.

She grunted, surprised at the way her udders were lurching. The cups seemed to elongate with the suckling pressure, tugging on her bulky flesh with each cycle of the system.

It was clear that it had been designed to drive her wild. She could barely contain herself, pressing her hooves against the mold as she arched her back, feeling her udders being brutalized by the cups.

It felt marvelous. But it was only going to get even better!

She rolled her eyes as Bradley grabbed her thighs possessively. “You love being a cow,” he said matter-of-factly. “You love being my fuck toy. You love the mindless joy of breeding.”

It was true, it was all true! She mooed, rejoicing as her breeder rammed his thick cock into her wet tunnel, taming her, controlling her, owning her.

Doctor's breeder. Doctor's orders.

Her body was swinging in the form as her breeder held onto her thighs, ramming into her with gusto. The cups strained on her udders, the swelling pressure climbing towards its peak.

She would soon be gushing with milk, losing all sense of herself in the pleasure, the pulsing dick filling her full of her breeder's cum.

The anticipation was killing her, but she held on, her eyes tearing up as heat washed through her body. She mooed urgently, warning her breeder that she was nearing climax.

“Not just yet, my whore cow. You must wait until I explode within you, then you may celebrate my gift of life!”

Her body bounced off the peak, then remained there, the pleasure squirming through her belly. She mooed with low intensity, the ache of release just beyond reach.

Bradley didn't seem to care about her discomfort, humming to himself as he rammed into her pussy. “Yes, that's right, slut,” he murmured, pressing his thumbs into her thighs.

Fortunately, he wasn't as good at lovemaking as he thought. To get him to release, all she had to do was give him what he wanted.

She curled her lips, changing the quality of her moos, making them higher pitched. She was almost purring now, cooing out her pleasure in just the way he liked.

He groaned, increasing the pace. Squelching sounds from his thrusts into her sodden pussy played in her headphones, driving her crazy. It had to be soon, didn't it? He couldn't possibly have increased his stamina!

Bradley laughed, a quick, braying bark. “I know something you don't,” he said in a teasing tone. “The Doctor gave me something to help control my libido. I can go as long as I want!”

She rolled her eyes and mooed breathlessly, no longer able to control herself. The pleasure was so overwhelming, she could barely hold on, fuzzy white sparkles dancing in her eyes.

Why would the Doctor have done that? Why would she…?

“That's enough, Bradley,” said the Doctor, her voice hard. “You've had your fun. You may cum now. Give her everything you've got. Paint her white with your dick.”

Bradley gasped, his cock surging in her tunnel. Her body stiffened as the first spurt blasted into her.

She closed her eyes as the pleasure spiked, enjoying the way her udders jiggled, milk splattering into the cups. She mooed, a long and low utterance, delightful muscle spasms created by his jerking dick.

As the semen gushed into her pussy, the pressure in her udders moderated, the pumps tugging on her flesh. The pleasure seeped out of her as the orgasm faded, but the heat still pulsed within her, giving her a pleasant afterglow.

Sighing, she relaxed into the form, licking her lips as Bradley pulled out of her. A trickle of semen dribbled onto her pussy, but the vast majority was deep inside, the little swimmers working their way into her womb.

It was glorious to think that she might soon become pregnant. Her udders would swell further, increasing in volume, until she became the most productive cow of them all!

Doctor's breeder. Doctor's agent. Doctor's orders.

A sudden tone sounded in her ears, and her brain clicked, shoved into a different mode. She didn't feel fuzzy any longer, and her thoughts were more precise, refined.

Frowning, she tried to understand the difference, feeling confused as the heavy headphones were abruptly removed from her head. Hands fiddled at the zipper on her hood, pulling it open over the top of her skull. The buckles jangled as the straps were removed, the metal grommets rubbing against her horns.

She held her breath as the sparkling lights vanished, her imagination recreating them when she closed her eyes. The hood popped free, and she opened them again, blinking at the sudden light.

She didn't understand. They had just finished a breeding session, where Bradley had declared himself the ultimate victor, and now she was being set free?

The rubber hood wobbled as the Doctor stepped over to a counter at the rear of the room, dropping it in a heap. She stepped over to a sink, carefully washing her hands.

Show Girl narrowed her eyes, putting two and two together. “You neutralized him, didn't you?”

Her words were raspy, but clear, indicating that the voicebox modulator had been turned off. This was further proof that the Doctor was up to something.

The Doctor didn't respond, taking extra time to ensure that her hands were cleaned thoroughly. Show Girl wrinkled her nose and craned her neck around, trying to get a good look at Bradley.

Her enemy stood behind her and off to one side, his body stiff. His dick stood at attention, a wide visor clamped over his face. The sparkling patterns almost caught her, but she turned away in time.

“He's mesmerized,” she said dully. “And I can speak again.”

The Doctor calmly dried her hands with a towel, dropping it into a hole in the counter. Turning around, she braced one shiny boot against the cabinet as she folded her arms over her strict corset. “That's right,” she said coolly. “I misled him about your current mental state. I have put him in stasis for further processing.”

She cocked her head. “He meant to make you his everlasting slave, setting himself above you as your one true Master. I have halted those ambitions, but now his fate hangs in the balance. What do you wish to do with him, One Hundred?”

Show Girl frowned, squirming in her restraints. She didn't regret having sex with the man, but it was true that she didn't consider him to be her Master. She was devoted to one person and one person only.

Doctor's orders.

She blinked, realizing the truth. The hate that remained in her heart wasn't aimed towards the Doctor at all. She simply wanted to prevent her former boyfriend from dragging any more innocents into his net.

“Set me free,” she commanded. “I will bring him to heel. He will learn to serve us.”

The Doctor's severe expression settled into a wicked grin. “That's right,” she affirmed. “Our benefactors cannot be allowed to run around and do whatever they like. They must obey when we come calling. They shall be the animals on our leash!”

Doctor's orders.

That idea sounded good to her. If she harnessed him for the Farm, he would never be able to hurt her again. She would be the one in charge, telling him what to do!

She wiggled in her restraints. “Release me,” she demanded. “I want to teach him what it means to be an animal.”

The corner of the Doctor's mouth lifted up into a smirk. “As you wish.”

Pushing off the cabinet, the Doctor stalked over to her side, her hands moving to undo the straps. “How are you feeling otherwise, my cow?”

Doctor's orders.

Show Girl blinked, confused by the question. “Why do you ask, Mistress? You know I would do anything for you.”

“Indeed,” purred the Doctor, loosening a strap over her back. “Then your training is now complete. Ninety. Come here and show her my favor.”

A figure approached from her right, a raccoon cow face sparkling with joy. Her ear tag wobbled as she leaned in to kiss Show Girl on the cheek. “Welcome to my herd, One Hundred.”

The quality of her demeanor had changed. There was more personality in the animation of Black Beauty’s face, intelligence in her eyes.

“It was all an act?” Show Girl asked, feeling outraged. “You were a fox in the henhouse, pushing me towards this outcome all along!”

Doctor's orders.

“Yes, and no,” purred Black Beauty. “You will soon see that our programming is multi-layered. When I'm in cow mode, I'm nothing more than one of the herd.”

Her eyes hooded. “When the milking tone rings, it doesn't matter what mode I'm in. I love being milked more than anything in this world, and you do, too. You are her cow agent.”

Doctor's agent. Doctor's cow. Doctor's orders.

“I… understand,” Show Girl croaked, her voice flattening. “I have been brainwashed into becoming her cow agent. I belong to Mistress.”

She blinked rapidly, breaking out of the strange monotone. Her lips quivered. “Is that what you mean when you talk about modes?”

Black Beauty's eyes sparkled. “That's right. You're starting to understand now. We owe our devotion to the Mistress who made us what we are. We belong to her. We are her agents.”

Doctor's agent. Doctor's orders.

Show Girl understood this sentiment at an instinctual level. There was no denying it.

Somewhere along the way, the brainwashing had been integrated deep into her personality. Being a cow no longer bothered her. Not if she could belong to the Doctor.

Doctor's slave. Doctor's agent. Doctor's orders.

“We are… her agents,” she whispered, the words dancing in her mind.

“That's right,” interjected the Doctor, removing the straps over her hips and thighs. “Several years ago I experimented with a new formulation of a widely used drug. It didn't work as well as I had expected, but one of its side effects was interesting. It had the tendency to put patients into a trance-like state.”

She moved down Show Girl's legs, finishing up. “I soon found the funding I needed for further research, but it came with strings attached. I had to kowtow to self-important men and their unusual sexual proclivities.”

She sniffed, but it sounded like the Doctor thought this was an annoying prerequisite rather than a moral quandary. “It was always about how we could create whores to satisfy their base needs. A rather tawdry application for such a profound discovery. They never expected that I would use it on them.”

Show Girl felt strange. She understood what had been done to her, but she didn't feel bad about it. “Doctor,” she said hesitantly, finding it difficult to be mean to the amazing person who had unlocked her inner animal. “Why don't I hate you?”

It was a simple question, one she couldn't answer herself. Her emotions were all balled up inside her, twisted into a complicated mess. And yet, despite their intensity, she found most of them to be positive.

Could it be… she loved the Doctor for making her this way?

She levered herself up, but the Doctor laid a hand on her back, pushing her down. “Careful there,” she warned. “Wait until I lower you, One Hundred.”

Show Girl relaxed, swaying in the form. No, that was impossible. She couldn’t love her. The Doctor couldn't even remember her name, for heaven's sake! Why was she feeling so attached to her?

Black Beauty's wide smile beamed at her, the sparkle in her eyes almost fanatical. “She won't answer you,” she said in response to Show Girl’s question. “I'm not sure she understands it herself. It's another unexpected side effect of the protocol.”

The Doctor grunted, moving away from the suspended form. “It's rather one I wish it didn't have,” she confessed. “I wasn't looking to become a cult leader. I'm a researcher, dammit!”

Black Beauty's face was filled with peace. “And we love you for it, Doctor,” she said calmly. “Besides, if you didn't want the full measure of our devotion, why did you design the protocol with so much fluff about Doctor's orders?”

Doctor's cow. Doctor's agent. Doctor's orders.

Show Girl shivered, knowing that the directives had been embedded deep into her psyche. There was no getting away from them. They had become her truth.

The Doctor snorted. “Many of those were demands from my benefactors. They didn’t want any of my projects going ‘off the Farm,’ as they termed it.”

Black Beauty got down on her knees, placing her front legs at her sides. Her large udders bounced, looking swollen. She was pregnant, like a good cow should be.

Doctor's breeder. Doctor's slut. Doctor's orders.

Black Beauty’s face screwed up into an amused smile. “Whatever the reason, you have us now, Doctor. I would love to help you out, but with these hooves, that's rather possible.”

“I'm still trying to figure out a solution for that,” sighed the Doctor. “I can't let our clientele see you being anything other than controlled cows, for obvious reasons. That will change once we have them all under our control, which is what this session is about. Hold on there, One Hundred, I'm about to get you down.”

Taking this under advisement, Show Girl leaned into the form, using her hooves to provide her with some stability. Her body lurched as her back half suddenly dropped, but the descent soon became smoother.

As the angle became more precarious, she hissed, but Black Beauty was there, placing a heavy hoof on her back. “You won't fall out,” said the cow gently. “I won't let you.”

A wave of gratitude washed over her. She barely knew the other cow, had been competitive with her, but now she was being so helpful! Her mind buzzed, adjusting her estimation of the woman.

Doctor's agent. Doctor's cow. Doctor's orders.

It was true that they both shared so much. Both of them had been captured, changed, and brainwashed to love the Doctor. She really should find time to learn more about her, but the opportunities for that would be slim outside of their joint operations together. Really, there wouldn't be a better time than now!

“How long have you been a cow?” she asked, her mind whirling with curiosity.

“I am one of her first successes,” Black Beauty said proudly. “Without me, the Farm would never have become a major operation!”

“Steady on,” interrupted the Doctor. “You've been more of a bother than a help. The amount of trouble you caused with Sir William was an absolute nightmare!”

“Yes, but I successfully brought him under your control, didn't I? How many cow agents can say that?”

“Not many,” the Doctor replied begrudgingly.

Show Girl licked her lips at the interesting interplay. They must have known each other for quite a while. “Just how many cow agents are there?” she asked, visions of a decked out squad wearing slick bodysuits dancing in her mind.

“Only a handful,” replied Black Beauty. “The training is really quite a bother, and for some reason she likes to choose the most spirited animals for the job.”

“It takes a certain mind for the training to work properly,” murmured the Doctor. “Multi-layered personalities are difficult to affix. Many types of brains just can't hold it all and they become brain dead milkers.”

The form rattled to a stop, the back end dragging on the ground. Show Girl shivered, imagining what could have happened to her if the brainwashing hadn't gone well. “Those poor girls!” she exclaimed.

“I wouldn't feel too bad for them,” said Black Beauty. “They enjoy their lives with the bliss of an idiot. They love being cows. You've seen one of them every day. Wouldn't you agree that she's happy?”

An image of Brown Missy swam into her mind. The gravid cow loved being pregnant, loved being milked, loved lazing around the pasture.

Doctor's cow. Doctor's slave. Doctor's orders.

She supposed what Black Beauty said was true. She wasn't exactly one to talk, was she? She loved being a cow, too!

Hands dug under her shoulders. “Get ready, One Hundred,” commanded the Doctor. “One. Two. Three!”

Show Girl pushed off as the Doctor lifted, both of them grunting as her udders popped out of the cups, the pressure releasing. She lifted her hooves up against her body, placing one on the form to keep herself from falling back in.

From there, she was able to extract one of her back hooves, setting it shakily on the floor. Black Beauty was immediately there, wrapping her front arm around Show Girl's, helping to stabilize her body as she finished extracting herself.

Her back felt weak in this upright position, and she was surprised to find that Black Beauty was rock solid. “My core seems to be lacking,” sighed Show Girl. “When do you find the time to train standing? I never see you practicing out in the field.”

“It's extra training we agents do during indoor days,” explained Black Beauty. “I expect that you will be joining us soon, now that you've proved that the programming has taken.”

Show Girl wrinkled her nose at the idea of more training. She didn't want to fall apart whenever she stood up, however, so there wasn't much choice.

The Doctor clapped her hands together. “You two will have the opportunity to get to know each other better later,” she announced. “Now, however, you must finish your mission.”

Complete the puzzle. Complete the mission. Doctor's orders.

Black Beauty helped her to shuffle away from the form. She paused as she got a good look at her nemesis. Bradley L. Best, standing rigid, lips pale, mesmerized by his visor.

She flicked her eyes away from the sparkling lights, but Black Beauty chuckled. “Don't worry about being mesmerized by it. You will soon be participating in his programming. Embrace the Doctor's orders.”

Doctor's prescription. Doctor's slave. Doctor's orders.

“I want to do this correctly,” Show Girl protested.

“And you will!” grinned Black Beauty, patting Show Girl's side. “Reinforcing your programming together is what this is all about!”

“Then he's already been through a session?” asked Show Girl, a hint of disappointment in her tone.

She had been hoping that she would be the first to take him down, to see his smirk fade into brainless obedience.

“That's right,”explained the Doctor, her hat tilting at a jaunty angle as she rolled out an odd chair from the corner.

Placing the chair behind the mesmerized man, she stepped on a lever mounted to the side, locking the castors in place. “Do you remember your last session in the Finishing Pod, where you trained with a simulacrum of him?”

Her face settled into a smirk, her wicked eyebrows jumping. “You two weren't in the same room, but I assure you, that was very real.”

“You… invented remote sex technology?” choked out Show Girl. “How is that not your primary product?”

The Doctor shrugged. “The setup is too expensive for mass production, but for our clientele, money is no object. They quite enjoy the experience, but I get complaints that it's not quite like the real thing. There are still some kinks to work out of the system.”

Show Girl unexpectedly laughed. “There's more than just a few kinks around here.”

“I know. That is why we need to get them under our control.” The Doctor lifted her head towards Black Beauty. “The baseline is set. I have much to do, but I will review the feeds later. Make sure she feeds him properly.”

“As you wish, Mistress,” purred Black Beauty, wiggling her body in pleasure. “I will ensure that your prescription is carried out exactly as ordered.”

“Good,” murmured the Doctor, stretching her back.

She sniffed as she glanced at Bradley, gliding towards the door. Detecting her presence, it swished open, the stretchy rubber of her bodysuit gripping her ass tightly as she crossed out into the corridor.

A wisp of hair trailed from her bun, a bouncing lace visible on her corset as she vanished around the corner. Show Girl smacked her lips, frowning. “Does she always wear something so… fetishistic?”

“Oh yes, she claims that it's good for business. I guess that makes sense given who she deals with.”

“Has she ever had sex with any of them?” Show Girl asked, her eyes narrowing in on Bradley's crotch, where his dick was still rock hard.

“Not that I've seen, but I'm not always in the right frame of mind to understand what’s going on. Doctor's orders.”

Doctor's whore. Doctor's agent. Doctor's orders.

She couldn't seem to break herself away from watching Bradley's swollen dick. The semen he had ejaculated into her had become sticky around her thighs, and her hole was still throbbing.

“Do we have to keep talking?” she groaned, biting her lower lip. “I'm still burning up inside!”

“Of course you are,” murmured Black Beauty, giving her a knowing glance. “Come on, back on your feet. Let's get him seated so that you can satisfy your programming.”

Black Beauty helped her down until her front feet settled on the floor. The ache in her back eased, and she sighed.

Her udders jiggled together, still swollen with milk. Despite the machine's efforts, they hadn't managed to extract everything, which was a downer. She longed for the feeling of a full extraction, but this fool of a man was in her way!

Snorting, she blew a burst of air from her nostrils, her fat nose ring bouncing against her upper lip. “Let's get this done so that I can finish getting milked,” she announced.

Black Beauty's hooves clicked against the floor as she moved around the mesmerized man, positioning herself on the left side of the curvy chair.  Lifting her neck, she tossed her head. “You'll be finishing your milking here. Sit!”

The strength behind her command almost made Show Girl drop her hindquarters, but she soon realized that it wasn't directed at her. Squinting at Bradley, she blinked as he fell back into the chair, his limbs splayed open against the curves.

The visor attached to his face immediately caught her attention, the buzzing pixels digging into her brain. This man… she hated him, but she also needed to breed with him!

Doctor's whore. Doctor's breeder. Doctor's orders.

She took a hesitant step forward, mesmerized by the flashing display. It wanted her to climb on top, to brace her udders against his chest, to fuck him until her pussy gushed with more of his hot cream.

She hesitated, unsure whether this was the right thing to do. The words in her brain encouraged her, but should she act on them without a direct command?

“Do it,” purred Black Beauty, noticing her struggle. “Let yourself go. Listen to the beauty of her programming. Let it guide you to pleasure.”

The stiffness vanished, and she smiled, looking up into the visor. There was no need to avoid it. It was telling her what she must do.

Doctor's breeder. Doctor's whore. Doctor's agent. Doctor's orders.

She stretched her front legs, purring as she admired his thick dick. In the time it had taken for them to get set up, he had gone somewhat flaccid, but she knew how to fix that.

Pressing her hooves into the chair on either side of his hips, she levered herself up, placing her enormous udders on his knees. Leaning in, her mouth opened wide.

Using her tongue, she lifted his wet length upright, lurching in to clamp her lips around the crown. Swirling her tongue in a circle, she swallowed, increasing the suction on the tip.

He groaned, his hips jerking upwards, forcing his shaft into her mouth. She chuckled, slurping as she pressed in, cleaning his length with voracious gargling.

She could feel his pulse, taste the shaft lengthening inside her until the end curled up towards the back of her throat. This used to cause issues, but sometime during training her physical response had been muted, allowing her to work his shaft without discomfort.

She used this opportunity to dive deeper, swallowing him whole. Tongue extended, she licked at his balls, enjoying the hot rod that plugged her airway.

Lurching a few times, she pulled out, swallowing hard before taking in a deep breath. “That was wonderful!” she exclaimed, grinning at his fat length trembling in front of her nose.

“Perfect!” purred Black Beauty. “Now, mount him like the animal you are! Show him how you cowgirl!”

Show Girl appreciated the double meaning, smacking her sloppy lips together as she used her front legs to swing her lower body up and over, straddling her ex's waist.

He grunted, but didn't respond, caught in the swirling mass of lights. Show Girl grinned, surprised at how easy this would be. “How long has the Doctor been programming him?”

“For a few months, ever since she worked out a new protocol,” replied Black Beauty, waddling up next to the chair. “She's been running it on him as her testbed.”

“Then I am the first benefactor of her largesse?” hissed Show Girl, a swell of arousal surging through her pussy. “I get the joy of physically breaking him in.”

“That's right,” chuckled Black Beauty, lifting her front legs off the ground and placing her hooves on the side of the chair next to his arm.

Her black eyes shone, filled with hunger. “Lean into him. Make him understand the gift of your presence.”

Show Girl did as her fellow agent suggested, enjoying the way her gigantic udders squashed into his bare chest. Laying her hooves over his shoulders, she leaned in. Her erect nipples pressed into his skin, an erotic frisson tingling through the air.

He moaned, still out of it. Feeling dominant, she smirked, rocking up against him. His thick dick was trapped against his belly, the motion squeezing on his flesh. His body shuddered, his mouth dropping open.

Deciding that this was her opportunity, she pressed in for a kiss on his cheek, slowly moving down to suckle on his lower lip. His body bucked, bringing the sparkling visor into her field of view.

Doctor's whore. Doctor's slut. Doctor's orders.

She broke away, blinking. It didn't make sense that she was being so lovey dovey with him. This was the man who had sold her into slavery, turned her into a cow. She hated him!

Pressing her lips together, she plumbed the depths of her feelings. It was true. She did despise him, with a loathing that demanded action. However, she had a mission to accomplish, so she couldn’t indulge in her most wicked desires. She had to fuck him. Doctor's orders.

It was all coming back to her. Her mind had been reprogrammed to want this, her hate harnessed for the good of the Farm.

The worst part of it was that she wanted this. She wanted to have sex with him, to breed with him, to become the best cow ever.

At the same time, she was hollowing him out, reprogramming him to be like her. Loyal to the Doctor. Loyal to the Farm.

That didn't seem like such a bad thing.

Doctor's agent. Doctor's breeders. Doctor's orders.

The words ran through her mind as she stared at the visor, taking in a deep breath. Her lips moved on their own, repeating the mantra, fixing her mind on the resulting obedience.

The Doctor held her in the palm of her hand. She had been broken and rebuilt as her pawn. And it felt wonderful.

Her mouth clicked shut as she pulled herself out of a stupor, staring at Black Beauty's looming face. “I can tell the difference!” she exclaimed joyfully. “You have accepted the truth. You are hers.”

Show Girl licked her lips, unable to respond. What the cow said was right, but it felt odd to admit it.

Black Beauty grinned at her. “That's okay, you don't have to say anything. You simply have to obey.”

Show Girl let out a sigh, trying to relax her shoulders. That's right. She had to obey. The words said so. Doctor's orders. It was just that simple.

Her expression flickered, head swaying as she struggled to see the sparkling lights. Black Beauty gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “I know that this is difficult for you, but bear with me. You can give yourself to the pattern in a moment. Lift yourself up.”

Show Girl grunted, using her front legs to raise up her bulky body. Her pendulous udders skidded over the man's chest, ending up crammed around his neck. 

The visor was now visible again, catching her attention. The patterns whirled, holding her in place until a hoof touched her shoulder. “Back down, cow.”

Doctor's plan. Doctor's orders.

She did as she was commanded, caught up in the whirling display. When the male's dick kissed her inner lips, she paused, savoring the sensation.

She was about to be filled again, that hot rod stirring up her insides. What a joyous occasion!

The hoof on her shoulder tapped again. “Come, cow. Start breeding. The Doctor commands it. Doctor's orders.”

The whirling pixels turned into words in her mind, spinning around and around. Doctor's orders.

Yes, of course. This was all for the Doctor. By Her will.

Smiling joyfully, she descended, gasping as the wet dick slid deep into her tunnel, as if it belonged there.

Perhaps it did. Her mission was to breed. She must do as she was commanded.

Hissing, she tilted her hips, ramming her pelvis into the man's body, enjoying the way the tip of his cock teased at her insides.

The man moaned, but otherwise remained passive, a meat puppet for her to use however she wished. Her nerves were like threads, pulled taut, each movement sending shudders of pleasure through her body.

It wasn't enough.

Grunting, she leaned forward, curling her front legs over his shoulders. Her swollen udders were between them, leaking spurts of milk with every thrust.

Hissing with pleasure, she stared at his visor, allowing it to deepen her trance, pulling her in. Her speed increased, the world narrowed, until there was nothing but her and the rough fucking.

Breeder whore. Breeder cow. Doctor's orders.

Yes. Yes!

This was what she was. Who she was. Doctor's cow. Her pleasure whore.

Happy burbles escaped her lips as the pleasure surged. His dick swelled inside her, ready to explode.

“Moo,” a breathy voice whispered into her ear. “Moo for your Mistress. Affirm your servitude for all the world to hear!”

Unblinking, Show Girl took in a deep breath, her body rocking faster, milking the man's cock. It jerked inside her, weaker than the second time around, but still enough to set her off.

Letting go, she sank onto his rod, her teats leaking all over his chest as she let out a long, satisfied moo.

Her insides quivered as more semen was extracted, her body feeling hot and pleasant. Sighing, she rotated her pelvis in a slow circle, delighting at the way her lover groaned.

He was completely lost in the pleasure. She would be, too, if not for the words that whispered in her mind.

Doctor's breeder. Doctor's feeder. Doctor's orders.

“Give him your udder,” commanded Black Beauty. “Let him feed on your magnificence.”

Blowing air through her lips, she was helpless to resist the command. She didn't want to resist.

Leaning back, she clumsily tried to lift one of her udders with her front leg, but her pleasure-addled body wasn't responding properly. She grunted, annoyed at her sloppy movements, but she couldn't seem to make herself work properly.

Sighing, she snarled and let her legs drop to her sides, staring helplessly at the sparkling visor.

Useless. Helpless. Slut slave. Doctor's orders.

Black Beauty chuckled at her ineptitude, placing her hand over the visor to interrupt the flow of nasty words. “Hold on there, you don't need any more of that reinforcement. You're not like the other cows. You're better.”

She tapped the side of the visor, and the pattern changed.

Strong. Resilient. Masterful slave. Doctor's orders.

Her trembling legs stabilized. That's right, she was in control. She was a powerful slave. She would execute the Doctor's commands as she desired!

Clamping her thighs against her lover's body, she straightened up, lifting her chest. “Put him in position,” she commanded, her brain sizzling with instructions.

Black Beauty jammed a hoof into the man's chest, tilting him forward with her other front leg, which she placed behind his neck. The visor buzzed approvingly, feeding her the next step.

Lifting up her left udder, she smiled in satisfaction at the milk weeping from her teat. She must feed him. He must drink.

Mother cow. Mother's udders. Doctor's orders.

His lips puckered wide around her teat as it jammed into his mouth, the hot wetness of his tongue causing her to shudder. She rocked on his dick, enjoying the slight friction as his mouth worked on her nipple.

She sighed as her teat responded to the stimulation, her milk flowing freely into his sucking mouth. He swallowed, gulping it down as fast as he could.

Suddenly, his rod stiffened within her, surprising her. “He should be spent!” she exclaimed, grinning with pleasure. “Why is he catching another wind?”

“It's your milk,” explained Black Beauty, sounding satisfied. “It's packed full of drugs. An aphrodisiac, a vasodilator, and various other potent concoctions that open his mind to us. He won't know what hit him!”

Show Girl frowned. “I didn't know I contained all that,” she said dubiously, staring at the swell of her udder.

Her teat jerked as Bradley tugged on it, his lips open wide to collect as much of her milk as possible. She bit her lip and winced, arching her back at the burst of pleasure that spiked through her pussy.

The combination of pleasure and pain felt spectacular. Breathing hard, she mooed softly. “What comes next?” she asked, her voice husky.

“You continue feeding him, peer into the visor, and obey your commands,” murmured Black Beauty, her lips sitting close to Show Girl’s ears. “Let the pattern carry you away, and fuck him to completion. Tell him he's yours. Ours.”

She could do at least that much with her muddled brain. Taking in a deep breath, she looked up. She froze as the sparkling lights took over, new demands rearranging her thoughts.

Cow master. Cow breeder. Cow feeder.

“Drink it down, slave,” she mooed, rocking her hips gently against his body. “Your cock might be raw sore, but it doesn't belong to you any more. You serve us.”

Bradley moaned in response, unable to come up with anything intelligible. His tongue continued working, extracting more of her drugged milk.

If it really did contain all those things Black Beauty claimed, what did it do to them when they drank it from each other? Her mind whirled, unable to make sense of the implications.

It seemed bad, somehow, but the patterns on the visor were moving faster, her brain synchronized, captured.

Doctor's feeder. Doctor's breeder. Doctor's orders.

Bradley slurped on her teat, pressing in harder, but there were diminishing returns. Grunting, he pulled back.

Annoyed, Show Girl pressed in, but he wasn't willing to accept it. “Give him your other teat, cow,” Black Beauty ordered. “Smother him with your milk.”

Her spinning mind readjusted, and she twisted her torso, presenting her other udder. “Take this,” she commanded forcefully. “Bring it to your lips and drink it down. Fill yourself to the brim with the milk you wanted so badly!”

His lips moved silently, as if he was trying to communicate. For a moment, she thought that she would have to help him, but was soon shocked to feel his hot hands grasping the sides of her swollen udder.

She was thrilled. It was actually working! She was in control!

She grinned as he brought her bulging teat up to his lips, squeezing her nipple with his teeth. The pain came again, the ecstasy of producing milk, filling him up with obedience towards her and the Farm.

Towards the Doctor, to whom she owed this pleasure!

She couldn’t stop herself from lurching up and forward, smashing their bellies together. He moved with her, helping her, the two of them slamming into each other, one big bundle of hot joy.

His groans mixed with her moos, and she began to forget. The circumstances of her capture, transformation, and degradation. Her humiliation at being turned into a cow, the rage she had experienced at being sold into slavery.

All of that was washed away by the pleasure, obedience, and her devotion to the patterns. She was a slave cow, an agent of the Doctor, and she would fuck anyone her Mistress desired, bend them to her will.

It felt so good to betray her past self, to give in and obey. The sparkling lights said so, and she agreed. Doctor’s orders were her everything. She lived to serve.

“Good,” whispered her sister agent, the cow pressing her soft udders into Show Girl’s side. “Now, release. Both of you. Orgasm. Explode. Breed.”

Bradley’s dick surged within her, a weak spurt of semen painting her insides. She stared at the visor, breathing hard, repeating the words she read in the patterns as another orgasm took her body.

Cow breeder. Cow slut. Cow whore.

Glug. Glug. Glug.

Doctor’s Orders. 

End Chapter Five