Chapter Six – Epilogue - Acceptance

The pumps clicked on, increasing the pressure, streaks of milk swirling down the tubing. She relaxed in the framework, mooing softly around the dildo in her mouth, giving it a slight chew for comfort.

The heavy headphones clamped to her skull hissed directly into her brain, bypassing her conscious mind. There was no need for her to think about the programming, it was only necessary to obey.

A faint hint of excitement coiled in her loins as she speculated about what the Doctor had in store for her. She wished to please her Mistress in any way possible.

The heavy belt around her waist trembled, and she shuddered with anticipation. She was going to be rewarded soon. All she needed to do was to stare deep into the slow spiral on the screen positioned in front of her nose.

She followed the slow loops, around and around, losing herself further in the programming. The pumps clicked, lurching up against her udders, squeezing out more of her wonderfully addictive milk.

She knew now what the milk would be used for. The men who it would seduce, subvert. They would be changed to support the Farm. To support the Doctor.

Her eyes opened wide as a hard dildo nudged against her sensitive inner lips. The colors changed on the swirling display, pastel and pink subversion. A slender woman posed in a slick, red rubber bodysuit, the shiny material drawn tight against her thick thighs. Mistress.

Placing her hands on her hips, the virtual figure stalked closer, body swaying. Her glossy boots clicked against the floor in a constant rhythm, the beat reinforced through the headphones.

When the Doctor filled the display, she lifted the crop in her left hand, the end dangling idly towards the floor. Her other hand remained on her hip as she popped her pelvis forward, the corset emphasizing her bust.

Her breasts were insignificant in size compared to Show Girl's massive udders, but the tight rubber suit emphasized her perfectly formed nipples. Was she… feeling jealous?

Nonsense. A cow's beauty was derived from her enormous udders and the amount of milk they could produce. There was no way her Mistress would be able to compete with those puny breasts.

Mistress’ belly wasn't swollen with pregnancy, either. Not like hers.

Smiling, she wiggled in her restraints, enjoying the feel of the metal poles bracketing her swollen belly. She was fairly far along, now, and her body was responding nicely, putting up better numbers on the pumps each day.

Soon, she would surpass Brown Missy’s record, though it was a shame she'd never be able to brag about it to her. The other cow was a brainless milker, unable to fathom anything more advanced than ‘eat’ and ‘pleasure.’

Sometimes, she envied the cow's spacey existence. She didn't have to think. She could simply enjoy her life without a care in the world.

Blinking, she realized that she had distracted herself again. Mistress's crop was raised in the air, as though she was signaling the start of a race.

Perhaps she was. Show Girl's heart stopped as the crop dropped, the thick dildo ramming into her waiting pussy.

Mooing into the gag, she sank forward, her udders jolting as the pumps clicked, thumping and tugging in time with the dildo’s harsh penetrations.

The synchronization followed the slow twirl of the spiral, light bouncing off her Mistress’ oiled body. The Doctor gave her a knowing grin, turning to stalk off to one side, stroking the end of her crop.

A series of images appeared in the center of the spiral, cows with huge udders. Bound into milking frameworks, their bodies rattled as the cups jumped.

Stocky men with thick horns appeared behind them, hips jerking, dicks pumping. She knew intellectually that it was a machine fucking her, but the images blurred the lines.

She could easily imagine one of studs gripping her waist and using her, his thick cock plumbing her depths as she writhed helplessly in her restraints.

She shuddered as her headphones filled with masculine grunts, enhancing the illusion. Pulling her hooves back against the tubing that trapped them, she writhed in the framework, rolling her eyes and mooing in pleasure.

The pumps continued their work, sending her on an ever increasing spiral, the pleasure building her body towards yet another climax.

The dildo rammed deeper, thumping into her with increasing speed. The cups rocked on her udders, clicking together as more milk was extracted.

Her muscles stiffened, preparing for more pleasure. Locking her teeth over the gag, she stared at the figures on the screen, knowing that the spiral was pulling her in deeper, reinforcing the programming that held her in its thrall.

She knew that it was wrong to love being programmed, but her morals had been twisted during her long milking sessions. The more she gave in, the better she felt. The better she felt, the more she produced.

The more she produced… Oh! To be a milking cow was divine!

Arching her back, she squeezed on the gag, grunting as spurts of milk shot down the tubing, miniature orgasms exploding in her nipples.

Her mind went blank for the count of three as ecstasy took hold, rewarding her for her obedience.

She was a pure, brainwashed, slutty cow! Oh yes!

Her bound body flexed, nose ring rattling as gasping moos rushed down her nostrils.

This was only the first level, however. The sparking pleasure at her nipples soon began to fade, replaced by an enduring arousal caused by the thumping dildo.

The pumps continued as well, combining together to push her inexorably towards a towering climax. There was no way for her to escape the assault, no reason for her to even try.

She was perfectly happy to remain as she was, eyes wide open, staring at the screen, letting it reinforce her loyalty to the Doctor.

Sucking on the dildo, she followed the spinning pixels, happy to be mesmerized by the colorful display.

The spiral had captured her mind, forcing her thoughts to spin along with it, repeating the words implanted by months and months of programming.

She was a cowslut. She was a cowwhore. She belonged to the Doctor. She would obey her orders.

It felt good to repeat these phrases. She rejoiced as she confirmed her submission, her desire to obey climbing higher with each repetition.

She was the Doctor's agent. Hopelessly loyal. Hopelessly obedient.

She no longer remembered her old life. Her selfishness and ambitions had vanished into the mist, replaced with an undying desire to obey her Mistress and carry out her commands.

She no longer felt hate for her ex. He was under Mistress’ control as well. They all served the Farm.

The herd would flourish. The herd would produce. She would vanish into their midst, becoming nothing more than one among many.

She would produce. She would enjoy. She would obey.

Her body lurched, pressure building towards climax. She had been prepared for this by the spiral. She was ready to submit herself to the pleasure.

The pounding rod filled her hot pussy, thrusting with urgency. The spiral wanted her to obey. The spiral wanted her to submit. The spiral wanted her to explode.

She let go, mooing mindlessly as her muscles locked up. Her body shuddered in the framework, sounds of bound pleasure echoing in her ears.

She could hear the others nearby, echoing her pleasure, their moos rising together in united obedience.

She was one with them. She was one with the herd.

She was a cow. Nothing more.

This affirmation was all she needed to let go. No more thinking, only feeling.

Riding the waves of pleasure, she relaxed into the frame, breathing hard as the bulk of her milk was efficiently extracted.

Sore, but happy, she drank cool water from the gag, counteracting the hot flush that had seized hold of her body.

After she had finished swallowing, the gag was quickly extracted. The dildo in her pussy was now motionless, its duty complete. All that remained was the insistent click of the pumps, drawing out whatever remained.

Even this would soon be over, as the insistent tugging was retrieving less milk with each popping click. Mooing, she enjoyed it while she could, but the inevitable end was fast approaching.

That didn’t make her sad, though, as there were more pleasures to be had today. She was eager to check her production metrics. Would she be able to beat Black Beauty this week?

The other cow's pregnancy was farther along than hers, but she appeared to have peaked. Her numbers were still on the rise, and there was a good chance that she'd be able to beat her within the next couple of sessions - as long as she didn't hit a plateau herself.

Wrinkling her nose, she touched the edge of her nose ring with her tongue. Nonsense. There was no way her fellow cow agent would be able to out produce her. No more self-defeating thoughts!

Blinking, she realized that during her ruminations, the screen with the spiral had blanked, and the pumps had halted. The milking session was now over, and given the clarity of her thoughts, she now had a mission to accomplish.

She creased her brow, wondering what it might be. The spiral had likely implanted her instructions, but she wouldn't know what they were until they activated.

Oh well. Whatever the Mistress wanted would happen. There was no reason to get worked up about it.

She lowed as the dildo in her pussy slid back into the belt, leaving her empty. A hand rubbed over her ass. “Steady there,” came the calm voice of an attendant. “Hold still. I will release you soon.”

The belt around her waist was loosened, then removed. Her legs quivered as cool air coiled around her loins, the lubrication from her snatch running down her thighs.

A towel was jammed between her legs, moved around with efficient motions to clean up the mess. Sighing, she relaxed, waiting patiently as the attendant pulled her legs apart to examine her further.

“Looking good,” the handler announced, patting her belly. “I think that you'll be pleasantly surprised by the results.”

Show Girl trembled, eager to hear them, but the attendant didn't give her anything further. Instead, she leaned over, unlocking the clasps that held Show Girl’s legs.

There came some jolts as she uncoupled and coiled up the tubing. She then unhooked the strap around her back and removed the breast pumps, leaving her drained udders wobbling in the air.

Show Girl took in a deep breath, waiting patiently. Trying to get out of the framework by herself might lead to panic, and she didn't particularly want to injure herself.

Closing her eyes, she began to count. When she reached twenty, a hand cupped her ass, moving up her spine. At thirty, the hand wrapped around her neck.

A few more numbers, and the hands grabbed the sides of her headphones, lifting them gently over her head.

“Good cow,” purred the attendant. “I will make a note of your exemplary obedience in your permanent record. You may expect a reward.”

Show Girl mooed happily, placing her legs on the floor in a little jig as a leash was attached to her collar.

She continued dancing until the leash was jerked, demanding her attention. She opened her eyes and curved her neck towards the attendant, letting out a soft moo.

“We're done here, cow. Would you like to see today's numbers?”

Would she? Her eyes opened wide in anticipation, a sudden grin on her face.

Lifting her legs, she stepped gingerly out of the metal framework, unable to avoid a slight ping as a hoof touched the edge of a metal tube.

The framework rattled, but it wasn't damaged. Stepping out with more confidence, she followed the chain of the leash, lifting her ass to escape the confines of the milking machine.

The attendant's visor sparkled, reinforcing her obedience. She halted, waiting for the next command. The attendant dipped her head, the dish of her helmet catching the light, glossy orange lips shining with satisfaction.

That's right. She was an easy cow to handle. She was easy. She would do what anyone said. Only obedience would give her the most possible pleasure.

Obedience, and her mission. Her brain jolted, her brow furrowing. She did not know what she had been assigned to do just yet, but once she did, she would be certain to accomplish it.

Grasping her leash in a fist, the attendant raised her arm into the air and turned away, her boots squeaking on the tiled floor as she led Show Girl out of the pen onto flat concrete.

They were in a long hallway, the sterile walls reminding her of the milking barn. That's likely where they were, but she had no memory of entering the building.

That didn't matter. She had heard the milking tone and she had come. It was as simple as that.

She had done it dozens of times over the past few months, draining away her precious milk for the use of the Farm.

It had doubtless been used on their financial benefactors, convincing them to continue supporting their operations. The more milk they drank, the lower they sank, becoming addicted to the cows that produced it.

Not all of them had been fully brainwashed, but most of them were on the way. She grinned thinking about her old nemesis, Bradley, who was now helplessly in her thrall. It wouldn't be long before she bore his child, but she didn't begrudge him for this.

Their progeny would be given the best scholars and training, becoming the heir he had always wanted. There his original plan would diverge, as their child would be beholden to the Farm.

They would belong to the Farm. They would love the Farm. The Farm is all they would know.

Once they had grown, they would support their activities wholeheartedly. And, if they were female, they might even choose to join as another milking cow.

She was pleased by this idea. It might be difficult to pull off, but she had faith in the Doctor and her plans. The Farm would survive.

Her hooves clicked on the tiles as she was led down the hallway, passing a stall. Udders lurching, she tilted her head to get a good look at the occupant.

It was a male, facing towards the front of the stall. His face was hidden under a visor, his body bound to a metal framework.

Hands tied behind his back, his pelvis flexed, shoving his dick into a large cylinder mounted to the frame. A tube attached to the tip of the cylinder provided the pressure necessary to clamp down on his dick, a relief valve opening to release the compressed air during each thrust.

His mouth was plugged with a gag, more tubing running around the sides of his face. With each thrust, a spurt of white fluid gushed into his mouth, forcing him to drink it down.

She didn't recognize his facial features, but he was likely one of their rich visitors, cumming his brains out in a milking stall, drugged by their rich milk.

Milk wasn't the only product of the Farm, though Show Girl wasn't certain what the Doctor planned on doing with all the genetic material she was extracting.

The obvious thought was that the Farm had become a gigantic breeding experiment, researching a way to produce a superhuman.

The idea didn't really disturb her. Despite what the elites thought, it was unlikely that the perfect specimen would come from their DNA. Just as many of them had inherited their wealth as had earned it. If questioned, many of them might even admit that they had been more lucky than skilled.

That wouldn’t stop them from trying, of course, and that was fine by Show Girl. She was perfectly happy to be a surrogate womb if that would allow her to continue being the best milk producer ever!

They passed several more stalls occupied by brainwashed men, but she ignored them. She was far more interested in the ‘Last Milking’ leaderboard at the end of the hallway, which had just lit up with new numbers.

She strained, trying to see who was at the top. Was it her, or Black Beauty? The two of them had been neck and neck over the past couple of weeks, and she was hoping that she would finally edge her out today.

She mooed in triumph as the letters and numbers became clearer. Just shy of three gallons? That was amazing!

“I wouldn't get too excited just yet,” warned her handler. “Black Beauty is currently in session, and she almost reached that level last time.”

Show Girl mooed again, annoyed at being brought up short right at her moment of triumph. Her fellow cow agent had been far too smug lately. Let her celebrate a little, dammit!

The handler rattled the chain on her collar. “Would you like to see her? I believe that she's a few stalls down.”

Would she? Why did she even bother asking?

Jumping forward, she tugged at the leash, eliciting an amused chuckle from her handler. “Whoa, there, girl. She won't be finished in the next minute!”

She didn't care. She wanted to see her partner right away.

They had grown close over the last couple of months, working and training with each other, tasting each other's milk. At this point, she saw the other cow as her sister, and she wanted to be the first to gloat when she failed to reach Show Girl’s numbers.

Her hooves tapped urgently as she strained against the leash, practically pulling the handler along. The handler clicked her tongue, but didn't try to stop her.

One pen. Two pens. Four pens. There.

Black Beauty was bent over, hands gripping the metallic tube in front of her. A thick collar was clamped around her neck, tight chains running from all sides to a rectangular frame.

More tubing supported her torso at the collarbone and under her udders, her fat curves flexing as the pumps worked on the attached cups.

She mooed loudly as she was pushed into the framework by a towering man, her bulging belly trembling at the strength of his fucking.

Show Girl's breath caught in her throat as she spotted the large, curved horns that jutted from the man's head. Now that she was looking closer, his blocky features seemed unnatural as well. The man was built like the minotaur from legend!

Swallowing, she pressed her thighs together, surprised by the jolt of desire that shot through her loins. She was… jealous of her sister cow! What would it feel like to be tied down and fucked by that masterpiece of a physique?

Her eyes traced over his chest, following his bulging muscles as they flexed with each thrust. Taking in a deep breath, she enjoyed his masculine musk. Her body was shivering, desiring.

Snorting, she wrinkled her nose as she took in the rapture on Black Beauty's face. Why did she get this reward? Hadn't she been a good cow?

A faint motion down the hallway captured her attention, and her eyes widened. It was the Doctor in her red rubber bodysuit, her hand held by a tall man dressed in tweed.

Her head was locked dead ahead as she matched his pace, but she barely seemed to notice his presence. Her cool, gray eyes were elsewhere, as if she was thinking up her next experiment.

It wasn't her presence that made Show Girl gasp, however. It was the man.

Bradley L. Best was impeccably dressed, with a tie pin, cufflinks, and mirror shined shoes. He looked like he had just stepped out of a board meeting.

He was inexplicably pleased with himself, a wide grin pasted on his face. When he spotted Show Girl, he grinned wider, leaning in to whisper something into the Doctor's ear.

What she said in response caused him to let out a barking laugh. Stunned, Show Girl planted her ass on the ground before she fell over.

What were the two of them plotting together? It simply didn't make any sense. Her ex had been thoroughly brainwashed by her, she had made sure of it!

Bradley patted the Doctor's arm and let go, marching up to Show Girl and giving her a critical look. “She looks nice and healthy,” he announced, sounding genial. “How far is she along?”

“She's well into her second trimester,” announced the Doctor. “She likely got pregnant during your first couple of sessions. I made sure to mate you during her peak period of fertility.”

Bradley lifted his foot, prodding her belly with the tip of his shoe. Show Girl kept her front legs behind her back, pretending to be docile. If he thought that she was an obedient slut, he would stop bothering her sooner.

“Very good,” he purred, preening. “My superior sperm did the trick! I see that her udders are producing well now, though she doesn't seem to be quite as prodigious as this one.”

Show Girl's head shot up, her gaze fixed on the leaderboard. Sure enough, she had dropped a place, Black Beauty regaining the top spot.

Damn. How was she supposed to generate four gallons in a single milking session? That was an unbelievable amount!

“Yes, but that's not so surprising,” interjected the Doctor. “Ninety is much farther along. Her due date is in a couple of weeks.”

Really? Black Beauty was about to be a mother?

Her jealousy abated. Pregnancy hadn't been particularly comfortable for her so far, and childbirth was bound to be unpleasant. It was all a necessary part of becoming the most productive cow, however, so she had to endure.

Bradley turned towards the stall, hands on his hips. “This is your new stud, hmm? It looks like your program has produced some interesting breeding stock.”

“Yes, and the mental alterations didn't prove to be as difficult as I had thought,” said the Doctor, absentmindedly rubbing her fingers together as she stepped into the stall, peering at the horned male's dick. “As it turns out, the male mind isn't as complicated as I had thought. I found ample proof of this fact during my past experiments.”

Bradley's brow creased. “Really? That doesn't sound right. This was your first authorized subject!”

The Doctor sighed, placing a hand on her cheek. “I really must learn to police my words better. Assistant, protocol Romeo, if you please?”

“As you command, Mistress,” replied the handler, dropping Show Girl's leash as she stepped around her side.

Her visor buzzed as she lined up in front of Bradley. “Take a look at this, sir,” she said calmly, her lips curving into a smile as Bradley gasped, his eyes widening.

The Doctor fussed at her belt, digging into a pouch hanging from the side. “I've been more careless lately, perhaps I'm relying a little too much on the efficacy of my protocols.”

Show Girl shook her head, but said nothing, mindful of the fact that some of their benefactors could be nearby. The Doctor, making a mistake? That was inconceivable!

The Doctor flicked her wrist and a curved visor flipped out from the palm of her hand. “He should be well and truly under my control, but I'm not willing to risk it. Not when I'm so close to putting my master plan in motion!”

Stepping over to Bradley, she dropped the visor over his face, pulling a stretchy band around the back of his skull.

“There,” she sighed. “Drop into mode two, slave.”

“As you command, Mistress,” said Bradley in a monotone.

His body stiffened, then relaxed, the visor sparkling. Show Girl was unable to avert her eyes in time, but she only sank into a superficial trance before being kicked back out. The display wasn't for her, and she was too well trained to succumb to a generic pattern.

She relaxed anyway, pleased to see that her Mistress had him well in hand. There would be no last second escape, no threat of shutdown to contend with.

His programming was secure. The Farm would continue.

Wiggling her butt against the floor, she squeezed her front legs around her swollen belly, happy that the Doctor had everything well in hand.

She would seize the top spot soon enough, and her child would be trained to serve the Farm, just like her father.

Her eyes darted down to Bradley’s crotch, where a bulge was quickly forming. Licking her lips, she edged closer, pussy throbbing.

Her recent orgasm was already a distant memory, her desire rising. Her libido had been high before she became a cow, and now it was completely off the charts!

She was distracted from her lustful thoughts by a low moo from Black Beauty. The cow's eyes were wide, her body jiggling in the frame.

The male echoed her cries, his head lifting as his dick jerked in her pussy, filling her full of his yummy cum. His angular jaw and broad nose looked like a snout, the wicked line of his horns promising a good time.

The surge of jealousy returned. Why couldn't she be carrying the progeny of such a girthy stud? Instead, she had to content herself with carrying the offspring of this two faced bastard!

The chain at her collar jostled as the Doctor picked it up. Dragging it through her hands, she pulled it taut, forcing Show Girl to look her in the face.

“Jealous, One Hundred? There's no need to be. She will be bearing the hybrid child of a commoner, and I expect that it will be rather difficult for her.”

Her lips curled upwards into a cold smile. “As much as I might despise the games the elites play, I have to admit that they're important to participate in. That's where you come in.”

Cocking her head, she ran her eyes over Show Girl’s swollen belly. “Your progeny will be important, becoming one of our allies within their power structure. We will train them to obey us, to support us. We will take control from within. In a generation, I will have no need to beg for funding. Our position will be secure, and you will be one of the Farm's founding members. How does that feel?”

Show Girl's eyes twinkled, and she bounced her head eagerly. She would become a matriarch, creating the family she had always wanted. They would all be controlled puppets of the Farm, as they should be. This was home.

The Doctor laid a gloved hand on Show Girl's back, urging her towards Bradley. “I knew you'd like that. Come now, we have to keep him happy. I know you want to.”

Indeed, she did. Smacking her lips together, she pressed her front legs into the concrete floor, leaning in to nuzzle the bulge at the man's crotch.

His dick jumped against the fabric, and she lowed, sticking out her tongue to give it a lick. She screwed up her eyes at the taste, hacking and spitting onto the floor.

“Not again!” complained the handler, roughly shoving her head away. “Just give me a moment!”

Her rubber coated fingers worked at Bradley’s belt, flipping open the buckle. Unzipping his pants, she shoved her fingers into his underwear, forcing them down with a brisk movement.

Bradley's dick popped free, jumping into the air. She could see the opening of his urethra flexing, the crown of his head flaring out, engorged with hot blood.

Hissing, she could barely contain herself, jerking on the leash. Chuckling, the Doctor let the chain spool out, allowing Show Girl to wrap her lips around the tip of the man's girthy cock.

It was warm, with a hint of saltiness around the base where her tongue settled. She wasn't satisfied with this, rolling her lips and thrusting forward until half his length was contained within her mouth.

From here, she had a multitude of options. She didn't want him to cum too quickly, but conversely, she wasn't interested in delaying for too long. It would require a delicate touch to ensure that he became sufficiently aroused to deliver his full load in one go.

A fat pair of lips clamped around her left teat, startling her. Backing off, she mooed in surprise, moving her front leg to avoid the small horns of the voracious cow underneath her.

Black Beauty had been set free from her frame, and now she was here, determined to distract her from tasting this male's yummy cock.

She wasn't interested in sharing. Scowling at the cow, she leaned down to touch their noses together.

Mooing, she jerked her head. Go on, get out of here!

Black Beauty only grinned as a second cow scooted in next to her. Show Girl jolted, surprised at the second woman's presence.

Brown Missy had been out for a while, split from the herd. Her body looked fit and trim, her udders down from the tremendous highs they had achieved during her pregnancy.

From conversations with Black Beauty, Show Girl knew that Brown Missy had been granted maternal leave to take care of her baby. It didn't make sense to put her out in the paddock with the general population when all she could think about was her newborn.

She mooed at the brown cow, lifting her upper body away. She had been granted a lovely dick by her Mistress, and she didn't want to be interrupted!

“You might as well give in,” chuckled the Doctor. “They want your milk, and I want you to give it to them. Drinking your herd mate's milk is an excellent way to send their bodies into overdrive. You do want to increase their production, don't you?”

Not particularly, but she couldn't disobey the Doctor’s orders. How annoying!

Mooing, she gave the two cheeky cows a scowl. Fine. They could participate, but this dick was hers alone!

Stiffening her front legs, she allowed her chest to sag, ignoring the happy moos from below. Jerking her head forward, she mouthed the head of Bradley's cock, looking up to see his expression.

His mouth was locked in a grimace, but that soon eased as she bobbed lower, sucking on his hot length. There came a sudden jolt, a blob of semen oozing from the slit at the tip of his dick.

Slurping it up, she swallowed it down. The taste was still mildly unpleasant, but she took it as a sign that she was doing the right thing. It wouldn't be long before he gave her his full load, which would stand as proof of her mastery over his body.

All he could do was stand there and take it, his mind blanked by the visor, told to stand still and obey. She could hear the words in the back of her mind, whispered echoes of the commands that had become his world.

Herd's slave. Herd's stud. Doctor's orders.

She grinned, wincing as two voracious mouths clamped onto her teats, tugging at her udders. She could handle this discomfort, knowing that she was obeying the Doctor.

Planting her hooves next to the entranced man's feet, she leaned forward, determined to swallow his girth entirely. Without being able to grip the base of his penis, she would have to make her throat do the work.

Fortunately, she had plenty of training on that front. Taking in a deep breath, she leaned in, sliding his length into her esophagus.

Her gag reflex was weak and quickly overwhelmed, her eyes narrowing in on his pelvis as she worked her way in.

For whatever his foibles, one thing Bradley didn't lack was length. It was a struggle to keep him down, but she didn't need to do it for long.

Choking as her lips clamped around the end, she pulled back, streaking saliva down his shaft. The two hungry cows tugged at her nipples, dribbles of milk sucked away by their slurping mouths.

Actually, it felt rather good to have them sucking her off while she polished the mesmerized man's shaft, working him as they worked her. The way they licked and tugged was almost hypnotic, driving her libido crazy.

Backing off, she took in a deep breath before diving back in for another deep throating. Bradley moaned, brainwashed by the visor, being told to stay still and obey, to give in.

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

Yes, she loved working for the Doctor. Obeying the Doctor. Sucking for the Doctor. Fucking for the Doctor.

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

She loved having her udders teased and assaulted, loved producing milk. She loved the taste of this man's shaft, loved gargling with his dick in her throat.

Doctor's slave. Doctor's breeder. Doctor's orders.

She would love giving birth. Would love beating her production targets. Would love being brainless. Would love giving in.

Doctor's pet. Doctor's mother. Doctor's orders.

The dick in her mouth throbbed, its heat expanding. It was almost time. She was ready.

Clamping her lips around his shaft, she sank in for the final time, her udders jiggling as milk spurted into her sister cow's open mouths.

Embedded deep in her throat, his shaft stiffened, his crown flexing, straining.

Satisfied with her positioning, she looked up, her vision beginning to buzz from the lack of oxygen. The visor was sparkling, but it failed to captivate her.

She didn't need it to obey. She had been programmed. She was a slut. She was a slave. She was a cow.

She was Hers.

Bradley exploded, a gush of warm semen bathing her throat. Holding still until her limit, she smiled and pulled back, pausing to savor the pleasure of obedience as she swallowed and took in a deep breath.

Her body shivered as it responded to the charged atmosphere, her nipples tightening into bullets as more and more of her milk drained into the pleased cows.

She glanced down, seeing their skulls braced against each other, horns locked. They grinned happily, eyes dull from the drugged milk.

Happy. Dumb. Slaves.

Just like her.

Slurping down Bradley’s cum, she drowned in pleasure, her eyes matching theirs as she slid into a trance. Filled with ecstasy, she swallowed mechanically, ensuring her lover's obedience.

Doctor's orders.

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