When Laura woke, her arousal had returned. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was; she only felt the lull of Evie’s breathing and the stickiness of their naked skin pressed together. The cot beneath them was still damp, and stench of sweat and sex clung to the walls of the room. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep the memory of the last night from replaying in her head. She failed. The image of Evie writhing and spasming, the taste of her daughter’s mouth, and the feeling of the helpless grind of their bodies wouldn’t go away.

 

Evie whimpered softly in her sleep. Laura looked down. Her daughter’s face was resting on Laura’s upper arm, mouth was slightly open, and hair plastered to her forehead by a sheen of sweat. There were faint bruises on Evie’s neck where Laura had gripped her too tightly. A wave of nausea and guilt threatened to make Laura’s empty stomach even emptier. How could she have abused her own daughter like that? Even if it was under the influence of whatever she had been injected with, her actions were inexcusable. Before the self-hatred could overwhelm her, however, it was interrupted by a painful soreness in her chest.

 

She shifted, careful not to wake Evie, and cupped a tentative hand to her left breast. It was shockingly firm and swollen, and the nipple looked darker than usual. Attempting to diagnose the issue, she pressed harder, and a white bead of liquid welled at the tip of her nipple and trickled down her chest. “What the hell…” she whispered, wiping it away with a trembling finger. How was it possible? The last time this had happened was many years ago when Evie was a newborn. Her milk had long since dried up, but here it was.

 

Telling herself to stay calm, Laura tried to peel herself from Evie with surgical care, but every movement pulled at their joined skin, the dried crust of their mingled arousal tacking them together. She managed to shift her hips, lifting Evie’s thigh from between her own, but the girl stirred at the motion, lids fluttering open.

 

For a second Evie looked up at her mother with the blank trust of a waking child, the way she had years ago when night terrors still haunted her. Then Evie’s gaze dropped to their naked bodies and immediately darted away, her cheeks red with shame. She wriggled out of Laura’s grip and turned away from her mother, pulling herself into a ball and squeezing her eyes shut.

 

“Evie…” Laura tried to think of something to say. “I’m so sorry. I never—”

 

She couldn’t finish. There was no possible apology that would be enough; no words to undo the fact that she had violated and raped her daughter.

 

Evie lay still for a while, facing the wall. Then Laura heard her groan in discomfort.

 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” She cringed at hearing herself ask such a stupid question. Everything was wrong.

 

“My boobs hurt,” Evie answered in a confused voice. She cupped her chest with both hands, massaging her breasts. The flesh beneath her palms was larger than before, nipples jutting and surrounded by puffy, swollen areolae. She poked the skin, then finally met her mother’s gaze again, looking for guidance.

 

Laura didn’t answer at first. She pressed her palm to her breast and watched as another thin thread of milk beaded at the tip, running down to her knuckles. She wiped it away, then found her daughter watching her with wide eyes.

 

“It’s milk,” Laura said. “I think it’s from the shot. The nurse said it was a vaccine, but I think it did something else.”

 

Evie glanced down at her chest, her breath hitching as she tentatively pinched the darkened tip between her thumb and forefinger. She flinched in pain but pressed harder, driven by a mix of curiosity and fear. To her astonishment, droplets began to form at the tip of her nipple. She watched, transfixed, as the first bead rolled slowly down her chest, leaving a shimmering trail across her ribcage. A shiver ran through her, a strange blend of pleasure and revulsion, and she recoiled instinctively, clutching her hands to her breast as more droplets gathered, threatening to spill over.

 

Her mouth twisted in disbelief, emotions swirling within her. Overcome with conflicting horror and pleasure, Evie squeezed her eyes shut, fists pressing hard against her face as tears broke free. She curled into herself, rocking back and forth while the liquid continued to well and drip from her nipples. Laura reached to comfort her, but Evie jerked away.

 

Without warning, the door to the cell clanged open, the sharp sound reverberating off the concrete. Three men entered wearing grey uniforms, and two carrying batons at their side. The third one held a clipboard. He stepped forward, gaze flicking from Laura to Evie and back to his papers.

 

Laura placed herself in front of Evie, covering her own breasts and groin with her hands. Behind her, Evie timidly did the same. The guards ignored the feeble displays of modesty. The one with the clipboard spoke in a bureaucratic monotone. “Laura Miller. Evelyn Miller. You are scheduled for processing; come with us.”

 

“What processing? Why are you doing this? Tell us what’s going on!” Laura shouted at them.

 

The guard ignored her. “If you don’t comply, you’ll be punished.”

 

“Fuck you!” Laura screamed.

 

The guard with the baton stepped forward and jabbed Laura in the ribs. She doubled over, clutching her side. He pressed the baton to her back and activated it; Laura jerked violently as a bolt of electricity shot through her body, and her legs gave out. She crashed to her knees, arms splaying forward. The other guard moved behind her and forced her arms behind her back, locking plastic flex cuffs around her wrists.

 

Evie screamed, scrambling across the mattress to reach her mother. “Don’t hurt her! Please, don’t hurt my mom!” She was crying, hands held out in supplication, but the third guard seized her by the arm and pulled her off the cot. Evie did not resist; she let herself be dragged to her feet, shivering and sobbing. The guard locked her wrists behind her back with cuffs as well, and pushed her towards the door.

 

“Alright, move!”

 

 

---

 

 

Laura and Evie were dragged into the hall, and the guards began marching them down a new corridor. The men ignored the nakedness of the two women and the thin streams of milk that dribbled down their bodies. The group passed other doors, some open, some shut, and from within came the unmistakable sounds of crying, begging, and the occasional, mortifying peal of animal pleasure.

 

They turned a corner and entered an elevator. The guard with a clipboard swiped a key card and pressed a button, and they began to descend. When the elevator reached the bottom floor, Laura guessed that they were maybe a hundred feet underground. The doors opened with a hiss, and Laura gasped at the sight that greeted them.

 

It was a vast room, almost like a warehouse, dimly lit by huge LEDs on the high ceiling. A raised metal walkway stretched from the elevator off into the distance, and on either side of the metal bars were rows of women. Hundreds of them. Each one was on all fours, some held in place by metal restraints. All of them were naked, but the detail that shocked Laura most of all was the size of the women’s breasts.

 

They were simply massive. Cup size couldn’t describe it; with the women on hands and knees, they touched the floor, the pale skin stretched tight and accented with blue veins. Laura noticed with horror that the women were all kept in place by transparent tubing attached to their thick brown nipples. Each hose was attached to a pump, which pulled milky white streams into larger tubes that collected the individual feeds. The women’s udders almost hid their bellies from sight, but at a certain angle, Laura could see that many of the women were in various stages of pregnancy. Their stomachs were swollen and stretched tight, navels protruding and dragging on the ground. The hum of the pumps mixed with moans from the women, filling the room with a cacophony that sounded less than human.

 

As the guards marched Laura and Evie across the walkway, Laura got a closer look. The faces of the women in the pen were slack, with mouths open and eyes unfocused. Some lay their foreheads against the cold grating, others stared up at the lights. None tried to cover themselves or pull away from the milking tubes. Several were drooling, strands of saliva clinging to their lips and chins. The milk pumps seemed to trigger spasms of pleasure; one woman’s hips jerked violently as she was milked, spraying clear fluid from between her legs. The groans they were emitting weren’t sounds of pain, but pleasure, almost like happy cows mooing.

 

“This isn’t real,” Evie said in a terrified whisper. “This can’t be happening.”

 

Laura had no words to comfort her daughter. It was simply horrible. The guards pushed them along the raised platform, and the new women that came into sight seemed to have relatively smaller breasts. These women seemed to be angrier than the others, fighting against their restraints and thrashing so violently that the tubes popped off, spraying bursts of white across their handlers’ gloves and faces. Some of the women quietly wept instead of fighting, but still others were moaning just like the previous batch, humping the air, the inside of their thighs gleaming with juices.

 

They reached the far end of the room, and the guards opened a metal gate. The guards shoved Laura and Evie forward through the doorway. Both women stumbled, unable to break their fall with hands bound behind their backs, and landed hard on the floor. The guards closed the gate and locked it behind them. Without a word, they turned and walked back down the walkway, boots echoing off the steel and concrete.

 

Laura rolled onto her side, wincing from the pain of her bruises. Something had softened her fall, and she opened her eyes to see straw covering the floor. Figures. She turned to her daughter, worried. “Evie, are you hurt?”

 

Evie didn’t respond. She was already up and staring wide-eyed at their new home. They weren’t alone. A few dozen women were standing around, all on two legs, thank god. They were still naked, however, and all had their arms cuffed behind their back, just like Laura and Evie. Some of the women watched the newcomers with open suspicion; others huddled together in pairs or small groups. A few paced restlessly, breasts swaying with every step. Sweat and milk glistened on their grimy bodies, and the tang of sour dairy thickened the air.

 

A tall, middle-aged woman with severe cheekbones and long black hair approached them. Her breasts, already heavy and leaking, bounced as she walked. She looked Laura up and down, then at Evie, and nodded. “Welcome. I’m Dr. Helen Voss. Are you alright?”

 

Laura sat up and ignored Voss’ question. “What the fuck is this place?” She asked.

 

“I’m sorry. I know how confusing and horrible this all is, so I’ll explain. They call it The Barn; it’s part of the ARC, but you’ll never get to see the rest of the building. The Barn is just one of the support systems that keeps the other parts of the facility functioning. Milk production. Reproduction. It all happens here. To you. And to me. All for the survival of the ARC.”

 

The blood drained from Laura’s face. “Oh my god, this is insane.” She thought for a moment. “Wait. They found a way to fix the fertility crisis? Why do these horrible things then? Why not share the treatment with everyone?

 

Dr. Voss shook her head. “They tried. There were side effects; I’m sure you saw them on your way in. In fact, you’re experiencing them now.”

 

As if on cue, Laura gasped as a wave of arousal hit her. Combined with the painful pressure of her full breasts, it took the air out of her. “Fuck… what is it exactly?”

 

Dr. Voss seemed to be struggling herself, but still managed to continued talking. “You didn’t get injected with a vaccine… It’s a fast-acting gene therapy called FET, or Fertility Enhancement Therapy. Fertility is genetic, so it seemed like a good route to explore; it improved fertility much more than we anticipated. But it didn’t stop there…”

 

She took a moment to breathe and steady herself. “The test subjects developed increased fat retention around their breasts and hips, as well as hyperlactation and higher libido. Much higher. What was worse, cognitive function also dropped significantly over time. Given all of those effects, no one would willingly choose to be treated. So here we are.”

 

“Gene therapy…” Laura tried to think past the heat between her legs. “Are you saying that this is permanent?”

 

Voss’ expression was grim. “Unfortunately, yes.”

 

Tears filled Laura’s eyes, and she looked at Evie. “You’re telling me that my daughter is going to end up like…” Laura couldn’t finish the sentence. She could only think of that first group of women that they had passed, with their drooling moans, their blank stares, and their bodies warped beyond anything human.

 

“There’s a chance that you both could avoid it, actually. A small chance.”

 

Laura turned back to Voss, her eyes wild with desperate hope. The doctor hesitantly explained further.

 

“Some of the side effects, especially the cognitive effects, happen very slowly over time, on the scale of years. But the speed is drastically effected by certain triggers. If you avoid the triggers, you can stay sane almost indefinitely. Otherwise, it only takes weeks for the mind to go.”

 

“What? What are the triggers?” Laura asked.

 

Dr. Voss didn’t meet her eyes. “The primary trigger is reaching orgasm.”

 

“Are you serious?” Laura was incredulous. “How does that make sense? How do you even know all of this? Why should I even— ahhh!” Her words were cut off as another wave of arousal hit her.

 

Voss’ expression was sad and sympathetic. “I know all of this because I was there. I was the lead researcher who developed the treatment. I never wanted any of this, though,” She quickly added. “They sent me here after I refused to continue working on the fertility project.”

 

Laura nodded, numbly processing all the information. Did any of this really even matter? It didn’t change the fact that they were stuck here. Evie bumped shoulders with her, piping up in a breathy tone. “Mom, my boobs really hurt, and I’m all hot again.”

 

“Ok baby, one minute,” Laura responded, trying to delay a difficult conversation. She turned back to Dr. Voss. “Sorry for getting upset. Thank you for helping us. Is there any way we could get these cuffs off? My breasts are killing me.”

 

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you there. They keep the cuffs on all the new girls until we’re more compliant. It reduces hostility, infighting, masturbation, that sort of thing. We find ways of relieving the pressure though.”

 

Voss tilted her head towards a small group of girls in one corner. A group of young women, arms likewise cuffed, knelt in a loose huddle near the straw bales. Two of them pressed their chests together, nipples mashed flat against one another, their mouths locked in a deep kiss. Milk leaked from their breasts, dribbling down their bellies and soaking the straw. A third girl leaned in from the side and latched her mouth onto the left nipple of the taller woman, who arched her back and gasped. Milk ran from the corners of the girl’s mouth, soaking her chin and dripping onto the straw. Another girl crouched behind a smaller one, nuzzling at her ass and licking upward until her tongue disappeared between the girl’s trembling thighs. Every so often, one of the girls would moan or shudder, the sound barely contained by the wet slap of lips and tongues.

 

Laura averted her eyes. "No. No, I can't—" She stepped in front of Evie, shielding her view of the debauchery. "There has to be another way. There has to be."

 

Voss shrugged. “You get used to it. If you don’t drain them, the pain just builds and builds.” She glanced at Evie, whose eyes were shut tight in pain. “Your daughter isn’t going to last long like this. You should help her before it gets worse.”

 

“What?” Laura leaned in and whispered harshly to Voss. “I’m not going to do something like… that! With my own daughter!”

 

Voss’ eyes narrowed. “Listen, your main priority right now is to keep her safe. And if you don’t help her, someone else will.”

 

Glancing past Voss, Laura noticed that one of the larger women had pinned the head of a young girl to the straw with both thighs. The girl’s nose and mouth were pressed directly into the larger woman’s crotch, and each time she tried to move her head for air, the one on top forced her hips down, suffocating and grinding on the girl beneath her. Milk from the larger woman’s breasts splattered onto the girl’s hair and face, mixing with the juices and lubricating the vicious motion as the girl struggled and kicked. No one stepped in to intervene.

 

Voss shook her head like she had seen this all before. “Go find a quiet corner and stay there. Feeding tubes are at the other end of the pen. Sleep when you can. I’m so sorry.”

 

 

---

 

 

After eating some sort of protein slop from the feeding tubes, Laura and Evie moved to an area away from the other women, bunching the straw to make it slightly more comfortable. Exhausted, they sat down in their makeshift nest, and Laura positioned her body to guard Evie as best she could. She scanned the room, watching the other women nervously.

 

Behind Laura, Evie whimpered. She turned and saw that her daughter was crying quietly, unable to wipe her tears. Milk leaked steadily from her swollen nipples, dampening her chest and leaving her skin slick and shiny. Her arms twitched, unable to reach her breasts, and her face contorted with pain from the pressure of the milk. Laura wanted so badly to hug and comfort her, but both of their arms were still trapped behind their backs. Her own chest burned as well; the feeling had become unbearable, and every small movement sent fresh spurts of milk down her stomach. She needed to do something.

 

Turning to face her daughter, Laura moved closer until their legs touched. Evie looked up, blinking tears from her eyes.

 

“Evie, I need you to listen to me,” Laura said. “In bad situations, sometimes people need to do things they would never normally do.”

 

Evie seemed uncertain. “What are you saying?”

 

“I’m saying that my boobs are hurting just like yours, and it’s only going to get worse if we don’t fix it. We need to get the milk out.”

 

“Okay, but how?” Evie asked, not understanding what her mother was implying.

 

Instead of answering, Laura inched closer, and slowly bent her head down to Evie’s small, swollen breast.

 

“Mom, what are you— ohhh…” Evie moaned as Laura pressed her lips to Evie’s swollen nipple and sucked. The milk came quickly, flooding her mouth with a creamy, sweet taste that dribbled over her chin and down her neck. Evie’s body jerked at the first suction, and her back arched against the straw. She made little gasp, and her arms tensed behind her.

 

Laura drank, swallowing again and again as the milk welled up. Evie’s embarrassment at what was happening quickly gave way to relief. Even with her hands bound, Evie tried to get closer, thrusting her chest forward and pressing her mother’s face to her breast. Laura held the nipple between her lips, working the flesh gently with her tongue, and each drag made Evie shudder and groan softly.

 

She stopped only to move to the other breast, and Evie’s body followed, twisting to present the next nipple. At each draw, Evie’s toes curled, and her hips rolled off the straw. All around, the other women ignored them, but one or two glanced over to watch as the mother drained her daughter’s breasts. Evie’s moans grew louder, her body bucking each time Laura’s mouth latched onto her.

 

The pressure in Evie’s chest lessened with each pull, but her movements became more frantic as Laura’s mouth worked. Her daughter’s hips spasmed, grinding into the air, and the cries she made were high and urgent. Laura stopped, realizing that Evie was quickly heading towards an orgasm. In a panic, she pulled her face away from the dripping nipple. Evie whimpered and leaned forward, chasing after her mother’s mouth with her chest.

 

 

Evie hunched, panting. She pressed her thighs together and shook her head, protesting wordlessly. Milk dripped down her chest in a steady rhythm.

 

“Didn’t you hear Dr. Voss? If you cum, all of this gets worse,” Laura reprimanded, her fear masked by a sharp, parental tone. “We can’t let that happen. Do you understand?”

 

Evie nodded, but she was breathing hard, and her thighs were pressing and sliding together in an attempt to get some sort of stimulation. “It felt so good though… I’m so close…”

 

“It’s alright, baby. I know it’s hard.” There were tears in Laura’s eyes as she tried to talk Evie off the edge. “We’ll get through this, okay? You just need a distraction.” She pushed her chest out towards her daughter, wincing in pain at the motion. “Here, you can have a turn for a while.”

 

Evie recoiled, shaking her head and pressing her lips shut. “No. That’s— I can’t,” she said, her voice raw and unsteady.

 

Laura leaned forward and encouraged her daughter. “It’s okay. It’s just like when you were a baby. I used to nurse you all the time.”

 

Evie pressed her knees together, twisting away from her mother. Laura inched closer, offering her breast again, the nipple swollen and dripping onto the straw. On the other side of the pen, a woman let out a bleating moan as another girl latched onto her, the sound echoing off the walls.

 

Evie looked away. “Please, Mom, I can’t.”

 

“You have to,” Laura insisted, the pressure from the milk making her temper short. “Evie. I’m in pain, just like you were. Suck me, now!”

 

The angry outburst did the trick. Looking like she was about to cry, Evie hesitated, then closed her eyes, leaned forward, and caught her mother’s nipple between her lips. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked hard. Laura exhaled sharply from the sudden sensation, but didn’t move away. Milk pooled at the edge of Evie’s mouth. She swallowed, each gulp visible in her throat. The straw pressed into their knees as they steadied themselves. Around them, the sounds from the other women in the pen continued in a steady background buzz of moans, cries, and rhythmic pumping from the milking machines in the next chamber over.

 

Laura’s hands strained uselessly behind her, but she kept her body steady, watching Evie. The girl’s own chest was still leaking, droplets falling onto her thighs, but her focus did not waver from her mother’s breasts. Laura’s back arched, and her mouth opened in a silent gasp. She pressed her chest forward, firmly into her daughter’s face. Milk streamed from the corners of Evie’s mouth, running in pale rivulets over her chin and neck. Laura’s thighs shuddered, and her hips rocked back and forth, grinding into the straw.

 

It felt incredible, as if Evie was sucking the pain out of her breasts, and pleasure was rushing in to fill its absence. Evie’s sucking grew more urgent, and Laura’s pitched forward, pressing her daughter down into the straw. Milk spattered across Evie’s cheeks. Evie choked, then swallowed again and again, streams of white running down her throat and pooling in the hollow of her collarbone. Laura’s breathing became audible, ragged, and she braced herself on her knees to keep from smothering her daughter entirely.

 

 

Laura froze. The muscles in her back tensed and her jaw set hard. She arched her body away from Evie’s mouth, yanking her nipple free. A spatter of milk flicked across Evie’s face and hair. Laura pulled herself together, and then shifted her weight, knees scraping backward through the straw until she no longer straddled her daughter’s leg. She twisted around, turning her back to Evie, shoulders hunched and breathing hard.

 

“What’s wrong, Mom?” her daughter asked. She almost sounded drunk on a belly full of milk.

 

Laura’s chest heaved. She kept her back turned to Evie, shaking her head. “It’s nothing,” she said, the words brittle and thin. “I just… have to be careful. That’s all.”

 

Evie crawled closer, bumping her forehead into Laura’s bare shoulder. Her face and neck were smeared with glistening milk. Evie pressed her cheek to Laura’s shoulder, accidentally smearing some of the milk from her face onto her mother’s skin.

 

“Mom, you know the women near the elevator? The ones that looked like cows…” Evie said in a small voice. “Are we going to become like that?”

 

Laura didn’t answer.