Chapter 10
There was no doubt about it. I’d recognize her petite body, her caramel-colored skin and her soft curls anywhere. It was Wren, tied to the same contraption as the other girls, mooing in delight and seemingly not recognizing me even as I called her name.
“Wren! Wren!” I said, rushing towards her.
I could sense the guards moving towards me, prods ready for shocking, but Carter raised his hand to stop them. He approached slowly, not preventing me from reaching Wren.
She was not being fucked, but she was being milked, and her dark breasts were at least five times the size compared to the last time I’d seen her, in her green shirt and red apron, working the local grocery store.
Wren had disappeared from the face of the Earth, and the prevailing theory was that she had gotten tired of small-town living and ran away.
She’d worked at a small grocery store owned by her parents, a true main-street brick-and-mortar mom-and-pop shop in the most literal sense of those words, and that wasn’t a very exciting life.
Yet, she never really struck me as someone who might want to run away to pursue excitement.
Her parents didn’t quite buy it either, but with no evidence of foul play and no leads, the Sheriff’s department had only done the bare minimum.
I’d initially been shocked by how quickly the case evaporated in our small community.
That had been months ago, though, and the consensus that she had likely just run away to something better.
I’d been hoping, that too, at least ... until now.
The realization she might have been here, subject to constant milking the whole time, struck me like one of those cattle prods. As I knelt, I removed my hands from my pissed panties on my head and reached out to try and shake her shoulders.
“Wren! Answer me! Don’t you recognize me?”
She was one of the few people in our small town who didn’t mock me or treat me rudely because of my appearance. It nearly brought me back to tears to see such a good soul subjected to that fate. Carter stood next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder as he knelt as well.
“Don’t worry, she’s happy here. You will be too. Once you get used to it,” he said, as if he really believed it.
Wren wouldn’t stop mooing, but she seemed nothing like what I imagined ‘happy’ to be. I shook my head in disbelief, and Carter smirked. Reaching out to one of the suction cups attached to her now immense tits.
“Watch,” he ordered as the guards caught up to us.
As he pulled the cup from Wren’s breast, a loud suction sound echoed. She opened her eyes wide, finally reacting to something in the world around her. It was like she’d woken up from a trance.
She looked at Carter and pleaded in full-hearted desperation, “N-no! Put it back! Put it back, please! Please! I’ll be good! I’ll be a good cow! Put it back!” she begged and squirmed, thrashing within her bindings.
It pained me to see her like this. I was almost relieved when Carter placed the cup back, looking at me with a satisfied ‘told you so’ smile. Before I could really question it, one of the guards shoved me forward.
I turned to look at Wren one last time before the two guards approached me, grabbed my wrists, and pulled me into one of the empty stalls.
Realizing what was about to happen, I tried to fight them, but they were big and strong and had little problem forcing me to lay down on that canvas.
They spread my thick legs open and cuffed my ankles to that bar.
I tried to get up, only to be shoved back down.
One pulled my tits forward to adjust them in a perfect hanging angle and the other strapped my wrists, one at a time, to the dividing bar marking the end of what apparently was to be my stall on the corridor.
“Fuck, let me go! Let me go, you bastards! Let me-”
My pleads, useless as they were, were interrupted by a mouth spreader being shoved between my lips, keeping my mouth open in a permanent, perfect ‘o’ shape.
I was forced to see it all as a mirror was lowered from the ceiling and placed in front of me.
A couple of men in uniform, but without prods, came to place a bucket under my crotch on the floor, resting on the straw that covered the bottom of the stall.
“If you need to go again, you can go there,” Carter said, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.
I protested, with grunts rather than words due to the mouth spreader, but Carter just shrugged. He turned to one of the men performing adjustments to the height of the contraption holding me suspended.
“Tell the others that this one is mine. No one but me is to touch her. Not for breeding, milking, or branding … Understood?”
The guard nodded, and said something through his mask that might’ve been ‘yes, sir.’ Once they were satisfied with my stall’s adjustments, the guards and farmhands began to leave. Carter knelt in front of me, giving my hair a tussle.
“Don’t worry, you’ll learn to love it,” he said, with a soft tone, as if he was talking to a beloved pet. “This is your new home, after all.”
Then he left me.
The cacophony of moos continued to ring incessantly.
I tried to fight my bindings and close my eyes to avoid seeing my disgusting naked self in such a humiliating position in that mirror. All I was able to do was to exhaust myself. The sounds of fucking, milking, and mooing never seemed to die out. I couldn’t even cover my ears.
Finally, I gave up, opening my eyes to look at my tear-struck face in the reflection.
My fat, vitiligo-spotted, huge tits were hanging like true udders under me, and my fat folds were pressed by the bars of my confinement contraption.
Were they really going to just leave me there to be Carter’s plaything?
Please, Jason… Please be working on something to save me, I pleaded internally until I lost count of the time passing.
Even worse than the noise and the humiliation was the sheer boredom of simply being tied and left there, with nothing but my own reflection, my face permanently stuck in that humiliating open-mouth pose.
Even ten minutes like that would feel like hours, but I knew I wasn’t just going to be there for ten minutes.
Farmhands came and went, some with buckets of waste to be thrown out, others with fresh straw for some of the stalls.
A few farmhands with metal jugs of milk passed, others simply walked by with a confident and pleased stride that told me they had just finished breeding a girl or were about to go down to it.
None of them as much as acknowledged me or any of the other women there.
At some point, the activity of uniformed men began to diminish until it stopped completely.
And a few moments later, with a loud clunk, the lights in the facility simply went out.
I hoped, for a second, that the noise would finally cease.
After all, these women must’ve been conditioned to sleep when the lights were out, right?
That had been a fool’s hope. Without men fucking them or milking them actively, they seemed to grow even more desperate.
Their mooing became louder and louder. The worst torture was the hour or so after the lights went out.
It was even worse than the uncomfortable pose I was tied in.
It was all pitch black. In that deep darkness, it was difficult to keep faith that help was coming.
“You really did it this time, Tiff,” I told myself as I closed my eyes to try to sleep.
Even if the frenzy at lights out had calmed down, there was no silence in that facility.
The mooing was constant and the position was uncomfortable.
After some amount of time had passed, I realized that even if I was exhausted, I was simply not able to fall asleep.
I was surrounded by women, but I was still deeply alone.
Poor Wren had been here for months and there was a chance I’d be here just as long.
Probably longer. I began to sob again. In the darkness, no one could see, and with all that mooing around me, no one could hear it either.
My crying just disappeared into the air like it had never existed in the first place.