A Lifelong Need for Milking

***The first Wilson had known of the woman was hearing her squeal when the milking machine she had been left trapped in surged back to life. He had wanted to find a way to transform her back to the woman she once was, but she had been kept as a hucow for so long...was it possible she would be happier to stay this way?***

Wilson watched with growing concern as the woman - the hucow - was strapped down onto a milking table. He still wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing.

It had been a shock when he had found the woman on his father's farm. Nobody had known about her presence and so it wasn't until a month after the father's death when the estate was being sorted through that she had been discovered. He could still hear her screams as the milking machine she was trapped in had surged back to life, sucking her huge tits dry before she collapsed once more into an exhausted sleep.

But the worst part was that while it was clear that his late father had forced her into a life she'd never agreed to, she was now so conditioned that it really was the only life left for her. She couldn't even speak any more, she only really made sounds.

The farm Wilson had brought her to was said to be the best. It specialised in severely abused cows. But as he watched them strap her down to the table as though she was nothing but a hunk of meat, he began to doubt his choice. After all, surely what the misused cow needed was comfort and care.

The hucow started to whimper and shiver as a farmer placed two large milking cups over her engorged breasts. Wilson jumped forwards and held up his hand. "Please, you can't do this to her - she's clearly terrified."

The farmer slapped the hucow's rump. "She fears it because it hurts. But pain is now her pleasure." He leaned forwards, resting his weight on her as casually as he might any cow. "Without pain, we can't make her feel good."

The farmer turned the machine on and ratcheted up the pressure. The machine started to beep at the extreme level of suction, but he seemed unconcerned.

Wilson wrung his hands, still wracked with guilt at what his late father had done. "We didn't know she was there. We'd stopped by the house once or twice before, but never during her milking time. It wasn't until we heard-" He broke off as the hucow started to moan. But it wasn't the same kind of blood-curdling squeal he had heard back at his father's farm. It was a deeper, more guttural sound, almost like she was enjoying it.

Wilson looked down at her and saw that the farmer was rubbing her pussy firmly, his fingers making a stickily rhythmic noise. The farmer smiled. "As you can see, we know what we're doing here." He petted the hucow's head. She was clearly nothing but an animal to him, but neither seemed to mind - it seemed so natural.

Wilson looked away awkwardly. To him the hucow was still more woman than animal - after all, he had been the one to find the tailored outfit the former social worker had once worn. The discovery had shocked him - she had clearly been an intelligent businesswomen who his father had somehow transformed into the desperately horny animal he now saw before him.

Wilson watched the hucow lustily undulate her body against the farmer's hand, her over-large tits swinging heavily beneath her. But, while she clearly now craved this life, he felt a fresh stab of guilt that this was never supposed to be her life. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "So, um, is there any possibility to, you know, reintegrate her into society?"

The farmer moved the hand that had been petting her down to her mouth, casually offering her a treat for her good behaviour. "Mm? No - her whole life is now her tits." He petted the hucow fondly. "To try and change that would be to deny her what is now a fundamental part of her existence."

The farmer fed her another treat. "It also wouldn't be fair on the family and friends who used to know her. After all, while she may largely look the same, the person she was before no longer exists." He ran his hand over her rump, tracing a branding mark that had been placed to deliberately obscure an old tattoo.

The milking machine switched gears and the hucow started to tremble in terror. Her breathing quickened and her eyes went wide as she looked at the farmer in panic, thrashing her body to try and escape her bonds.

"Shh." The farmer's voice was soothing as he petted her through her fear, reassuring her that he was there for her even as the machine painfully pulled at her tits. "Good girl. You see how good it feels when you trust me to look after you?"

The farmer turned his attention back to Wilson. "It may take her some time to adjust, but once she settles into her new routine, she's gonna love it here."

As the hucow began to calm, the farmer picked up a paddle. Wilson stepped forwards protectively. "Hey! You can't punish her for freaking out just now! It's not her fault that she was left trapped in a milking machine and is therefore distrustful of them and of the people who put her in them!"

The farmer smiled. "Don't worry - she'll like it. She requires a long, hard milking - much longer and far harder than I can soothe her through. The best way to get her out of her head is to distract her - and, fortunately for her, her body is now wired to register pain like pleasure."

Wilson hesitated. "But..."

The farmer grabbed one of the hucow's tits. She groaned in a lusty combination of pleasure and pain. The farmer squeezed harder, making the hucow whimper pitifully. He let go. "I know you worry about residual fear from being left trapped in a relentless milking machine, but believe me, the physical pain of not being milked would be much worse."

Wilson wanted to stay, to somehow make right what his father had done wrong to the poor woman, but as the farmer started to paddle the bound hucow's exposed rear with full force to a cacophony of sounds that seemed more suited to hardcore porn, he self-consciously slipped away, uncomfortably aware that the farmer's actions were inexplicably bringing the hucow ever closer to orgasm.

Wilson could see the woman in his mind's eye how she might have been - a beautiful young woman with intelligence and potential - yet now she would live out her days as nothing but an animal, with absolutely no say in when she got milked, who she got fucked by, or even if she ever got to wear clothes again. However, as Wilson slunk back to his car he had a growing hope that maybe her life would ultimately be better for it. After all, while her pained ecstasy sounded a whole lot more concerning than any orgasm he had ever experienced, he could not help but envy the intensity of the moment. In his experience, people always held back, with social and societal expectations getting in the way of true self-expression, but the woman's reactions, they were raw - they were real.

Wilson felt a shiver run through him as an intense volley of slaps was followed by a groan so loud and long that he knew without doubt he had found the best home for the hucow. Of course, her new life would not necessarily be easy - there would always be pain alongside the pleasure - but whose life was truly pain-free? And at least she would always get rewarded. Whereas his own life, sometimes that would just suck. He glanced back towards the farm. Perhaps his father had done her a favour after all - the hucow's life now revolved around pleasure and purpose, and, on reflection, that really did not sound all that bad!