Chapter 12
Ididn’t remember falling asleep, but I must have, since I woke up.
I was sure that the only reason I was able to get any shuteye at was due to sheer exhaustion from all that had happened.
A growing terror filled me. Everything that was supposed to be a nightmare - the underground facility, the women tied to stalls like cattle, the cattle prods, the fact that Carter Hill had abducted me - all of that was real.
Most importantly, I was still naked, my fat, heavy body bent over so that my huge tits hung beneath me and my legs were spread.
My hips ached from the position alone, but the humiliation was worse.
I felt like an animal ready to be bred… There was no dignity in that.
My stall smelled like piss and my tits were sore from hanging all night.
I knew they were heavy, but this was more than I bargained for.
After blinking a few times, I noticed what had changed.
The mirror was gone. I was now staring at an empty stall in front of me.
It took me another moment to realize that the stalls were much quieter than the night before.
The desperate mooing was gone and, aside from a few voices chatting, I didn’t hear anything.
Relief washed over me first. The quiet was beautiful.
However, relief quickly turned into maddening confusion as I paid attention to the voices.
They were casual and ... happy? Women spoke to each other easily, as if they were out shopping.
The sound of a group of women talking always made me uncomfortable.
Bullies, groups of girls that would whisper when I walked by, that would play cruel pranks, had constantly hurt me in ways I didn’t know I could be hurt.
It was better than the mooing, but more confusing, more anxiety inducing.
Calm down, Tiffany, I thought, We’re all stuck here and that’s enough to worry about.
Escaping was more important than reliving my trauma. Trauma couldn’t lock me up in a stall, milk me, fuck me, and hold me hostage. Carter could do that. Carter planned to do that. Getting out of here was much more important.
“My farmhand was so nice to me today, my legs are still like jelly. I’m all wobbly.”
“Will you stop bragging, Brenda? You won’t shut up about how good you have it,” said a mean, strong voice among the group.
Was I hearing it right? Were they happy about having sex with a farmhand?
Weren’t these women prisoners like me? They couldn’t actually be enjoying their condition.
I shook my head, refusing to believe it.
I couldn’t call out to them or speak, as I still had the mouth-spreader on.
All the same, I sensed the voices coming closer.
“S-sorry, Jen,” the one named ‘Brenda’ said submissively.
“I really wish Mr. Hill would come down here and fuck me himself. God, he’s so sexy,” Jen said.
“He doesn’t fuck any of the girls,” another voice said. Jen must’ve given her a pretty aggressive look because she quickly amended. “It’s what I heard.”
“Yes, well, I heard that he has a pretty big cock and fucks like a bull. I wouldn’t mind being bred like his cow,” Jen answered, laughing.
“But,” Brenda began. “How can people know he has a big cock if he hasn’t fucked anyone down here?”
“Oh. My. God,” Jen exploded. “Brenda, SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP.”
I heard their footsteps coming close and to my surprise, a group of beautiful, somewhat skinny, smooth-skinned naked women approached my stall.
They had nothing on except a little plastic earring like the types put on cattle with a GPS tracker.
Their breasts were disproportionally massive compared to their slender figures. Though, my tits were still bigger.
The leader of the group, Jen, I presumed, looked at me and scoffed.
“Oh, look this sad fat fuck here. What’s wrong with your skin, girl?” Jen asked.
I tried to tell her to fuck off, but my mouthpiece turned it into incomprehensible gibberish. She laughed. “Sorry, I don’t speak ‘pig-lish’.”
Jen knelt in front of my stall, picking a piece of straw from the floor and poking my breasts with it. My skin was so sore and sensitive, I grunted. That was all I could do with the metal keeping my mouth open. She laughed with a cruel glint to her eyes.
“Look at those fat, ugly tits. They must go down to your knees when you stand up, huh?” she mocked, “And you smelled like piss. No wonder none of the farmhands have touched you ... yet.”
I had no idea how she knew that, or why she was teasing me. I’d planned to ask them for help to escape. Now I was being teased and tortured by a fellow ‘prisoner’ for no reason. Tears formed in the corner of my eyes. Jen noticed.
“Don’t cry, little piggy. I’m sure they’ll find some blind farmhand that doesn’t mind the smell. At least you’ll get to feel dick for once in your sad life, huh?”
I would be stunned that someone could be so purposelessly cruel to someone else if I had not seen what humans are capable of recently.
She lifted the piece of straw to my face, tickling my nose and lips with it at first, before shoving it into my mouth, forced open by the spreader.
I gagged, threatening to retch. Jen mimicked the undignified sound I made before laughing.
Her friends laughed too, although mostly uncomfortably.
Scared, perhaps, that they would be next.
I couldn’t even blame them.
“You’re so gross. Are you hungry? Here, have some,” Jen said, before shoving the straw up my nose.
Tears ran down my face. The painful, burning sensation of straw up my nose only made it worse. Just when I was about to scream, I saw him. And I saw the way he looked at Jen. The three girls had not seen him yet. ‘Yet’ being the important word. He spoke, in an authoritative voice full of gravitas.
“Ladies,” he greeted, in a phrase that meant both ‘hi’ and ‘get out of my way’.
And they turned to see him standing there, in his white-suited glory, Carter Hill, CEO.