A New Breed

With little warning she pushed the now foaming brush down between Keith's shoulder blades and began viciously pushing and pulling the brush up and down his back, to Keith's immediate and immense displeasure. As the hot cleaner ran down his sides she moved around him, skipping his ass and moving to his ankles. She rubbed at his legs with gusto, slowly moving up his inner thighs till she was sawing away at the sensitive base of his crotch, and the even more sensitive flesh of his rear entrance. All the while, Keith was moaning in pain, and also, weirdly... pleasure? While his physical arousal was undeniable, he didn't understand it at all... He hurt more now that he could ever remember... Why did he have to pop a boner now, of all possible times?

While he pondered the strangeness of his seemingly new-found kink, Sarah moved again, and put the brush at the base of his throat, before rubbing the brush along his chest with powerful strokes, taking away what felt to Keith like a few layers of skin, before using slightly lighter strokes on his shaft, a maneuver that elicited howls from Keith and dark laughter from Sarah. His front now even pinker, Sarah stepped back and smiled, walking toward the one part of his body yet untouched by the nigh-scalding solvent: his sore, punctured, branded ass.

As much as Keith would've begged Sarah to relent, he didn't try, for the reasons that, first, the now soaking-wet ball of fabric in his mouth would've muted it, but also that, even had he been more charismatic than a politician, Sarah wouldn't listen anyway. Thus, it was with tears, of pain and impotence, in his eyes that Keith attempted to steel himself for what was coming.

He couldn't.

With a smirk on her face, Sarah pushed the nylon bristles of the piping hot brush against her husband's ass and let the steaming soap run down over the bright cheeks and down the tormented crack between them, running the brush in small circles. The scream that ripped out from Keith was only marginally quieter than the one produced by his branding, but not for lack of effort. His vision swam, and he thought for sure he'd pass out. Just as his tunnel vision was nearing complete, Sarah switched the temperature down to the coldest setting and let it simply ooze onto his ass. While the detergent still stung, the temperature of it felt heavenly, and Keith fought back from the edge of unconsciousness. After a few seconds, Sarah turned the wand off altogether, and stepped in front of him, removing her goggles and looking at him with blue eyes cold enough to freeze over hell itself.

"Don't think what I'm about to do is out of compassion; I just don't wanted you blinded, I want you to see everything else yet to come to you." As she was saying this, she roughly forced the goggles over Keith's head, situating the lenses over his eyes and then pulling the cords till Keith thought his head might pop like a balloon.

"Just remember, Hon, this was just the pre-wash. The rest of the wash is still coming. Have fun getting clean, baby." with that, Sarah gave a light slap to his balls and cock, enough to make him yelp, and then she stepped back to the side, grinning and hitting the green button that Keith knew served to continue his torment.

His whole body now red and almost glowing, Keith rolled toward the arches seen from the entrance. As he approached the first arch, another neon sign blinked to life, reading "Tsunami-Wash Pre-Rinse." Groaning for knowledge of what was next, Keith tucked his chin into his chest and tried to mentally prepare himself for what was to come. He felt the track stop, and as he hung, he swore he could hear the water pressurizing. After what felt like forever, the nozzles which filled the arch burst to life, their water jets seemingly impaling him. Due to the curved nature of the arch, the jets hit his body from one side of his ribs to the other, along with his entire back. The water was ice cold, and it felt as if it was being forced into every possible pore, orifice, and cranny of his body; mercifully, it seemed his chest and front would be spared this aquatic assault.

They wouldn't.

As suddenly as the main jet arch had started, it stopped, and the only sound that could be heard was the rhythmic, grunting, breathing of Keith, and the dripping of his now sopping-wet body. The audio system again droned to life, announcing the "Turbo-Blast Under Carriage Cleaner" was about to activate, to Keith's dread, if not surprise. Keith was pulled forward several feet, till he was over a section of floor grating that looked like a bed of nails. With a start, he realized that each 'spike' was in fact an individually-aimed brass water nozzle, and the several dozen making up the panel were arranged in arcs of fire that converged on his body, particularly between his knees and his belly button. Unsure of what to do, Keith wailed into his gag, and waited for this next violation. With a sound like a hurricane, the jets opened fire on his body, spraying him with a mix of warm water and corrosion -resistant sealant, an oily wax-like chemical he'd had applied to his jeep dozens times in the past, to ward off the salt that came with northern winters; he never expected that he'd ever be so intimately acquainted with the substance.

On the bright side, these jets were both warmer and (slightly) less powerful than the arch. However, he was unsure of the long term health effects of car sealant for reproductive organs. After several numbness-inducing seconds, the jets shut off again, and Keith was again left to listen to the sounds of his body dripping and... motors?

Keith raised his head and looked forward, curious as the source of the new noise. He could see that the earlier 'barrels' that he saw were indeed car wash brushes, and said brushes were now spinning up to speed ahead of him, and running diagnostics to test their range of motion. As the brushes ran through their preparatory run, Keith gulped, suddenly remembering Sarah's comment about the firmness of the chosen bristles. They might not be able to damage automotive paint, Keith mused, but his flesh was still far more fragile than any car. As these thoughts ran through his mind, Keith felt himself being pulled forward again, towards the whirring embrace of the wrap-arounds.

Resigned now to his fate, Keith let his head drop again, and he again pulled his chin in, and tried his best to grit his teeth, an action made harder by the ball of rags in his mouth. Keith heard the buzzing of the motors growing louder, and he knew they were close... And then, in what seemed like an instant, they were upon him.

In a blinding flash of pain, Keith felt several things happen all at once. He felt the side brushes make contact on both sides at once, somewhere near his armpits. He felt the under-body scrubber push it's scouring bristles into his forehead. And he felt the main brush pushing down on the back of his head. And every last one of them was already spinning and oozing rainbow soap from their pores. Each pair of brushes, the sides and the top/bottom, must've been synced to each other, Keith would later determine; as one the side brushes began blazing down his defenseless sides, from armpit to ankle and back again. Meanwhile, the bottom scrubber and the top brush both surged back, encasing his head in a swirling, soapy hell before running down his back and stomach at equal speed. Then, in the next few seconds, everything ended, at least in Keith's mind.

You see, in the same moment, as the bottom brush reached Keith's manhood and began thoroughly flogging it, the upper brush reached his ass, the seeming epicenter of today's storm of cruelty. In this moment, Keith's mind broke. He howled once, long and loud, and then everything stopped, as he finally lost his grip and passed out.

After what felt like only seconds to Keith, though was actually closer to several minutes, Keith gasped back to reality to the feeling of a hand, cupping one his now thrice-accosted buttocks. The hand was Sarah's, and as his vision swam back into focus, he saw what might have been concern etched onto her face. As she saw his head move, that concern quickly evaporated.

"Couldn't have you sleep threw the rest of your day, could we, Hun?" Sarah chuckled, gently patting Keith's now scratched, bruised, burned, and aching bum. "I have to say, you're doing well so far, you're almost done with this stage. You went out at some point during the scrub phase, and apparently you managed to sleep through the rinse phase as well. All that leaves is the... dryers I think."

Sarah turned and began to walk away, before stopping for just a moment.

"oh, there IS one step I suppose I forgot, between you and the dryers..." She added cheerfully.

"The Hot Wax!!"

With that, Sarah kept walking away, not stopping again as Keith was dragged forward, Sarah's last sentence still echoing in his shell-shocked mind. As he continued to wake up, his body registered new aches and pains all down his body, courtesy of the man-wash he'd endured already. On the one hand, he knew he only had two steps left. On the other, neither would be gentle.

As Keith mulled these things over, he ground to a stop in the middle of another arch, however this one had an integrated floor unit, similar to the under-carriage wash. Realizing that it was the aforementioned hot wax station, he merely sobbed and waited.

In all honesty, he was somewhat relieved. Compared to the other things he'd endured today, this seemed downright tolerable. While the wax was hotter than the normal shower he'd take, it wasn't nearly so hot as the solvent brush used on him earlier, and the pressure of the jets was the lightest thus far... While it wasn't exactly pleasant, Keith realized it could, seemingly, be far worse.

Around the time he thought this, he heard what sounded like a swarm of large bees. Craning his neck, he identified the source: arms, similar to those in the scan room. However, these had but a single fixture at their end: a disc, covered in lamb's wool, and rapidly spinning up to speed.

As the jet's finished giving his body a thorough coat of hot car-wax, the buffers descended, touching into his body at a half dozen points and working in the wax there till his skin shone like an oiled bodybuilder's. They roamed over his body, polishing all of him, holding no reverence for his genitals, nor his derriere. This was, again, not necessarily pleasant, but again it was far from the worst he'd experienced. It was, again, almost tolerable, and as much as he hated to say it, he might've enjoyed it even, under better circumstances.

Thus, it was with a different spirit that Keith groaned as the buffers finally pulled away, leaving his skin gleaming and his body tingling, in a not altogether bad way. With a strange stockholm-syndrome like longing, he was pulled further ahead, away from the wax bay and into the final carwash fixture: the drying area. While he'd expected giant hair-dryer style blowers, what he saw was entirely different. He saw Sarah, standing alone in an empty bay, holding microfiber towels and now no longer wearing her yellow poncho, but instead a white tank top and cut off jeans; an outfit that left little to the imagination. Almost against his will, he felt his manhood start to stand to attention. On the one hand, he was furious at Sarah and Michael for the torture they were inflicting on him. On another, though, he knew he had in fact cheated, and that, as twisted as this seemed, he had earned this.

As all of these thoughts bounced around Keith's head, he was pulled forward till he was in the middle of the drying bay. Sarah approached him, towel in hand, and spoke to him, the same cold anger from before bubbling unmistakably to the surface

"I'm glad that you were able to get cleaned up for our little date, dear," the last word spat out like bitter medicine. As she spoke, she began somewhat roughly drying off Keith's still shining skin, starting with his back and then shifting to his legs before ultimately kneeling down to dry off his chest, leaving his cock and ass alone for the first time today...or so Keith thought. Just as he was about to sigh in relief, he saw her step to his side, a sick grin on her face. But, it wasn't her face that worried him, as much as the towel she now held before her, coiled up tighter than spring.

Sarah saw Keith's eyes, and she knew that he saw what was waiting, so she took the moment to appreciate the situation: her husband, the love of her life, strung up between two rails, red, shiny, smooth as silk, and utterly terrified, all because he couldn't keep it in his pants. This last thought angered her, and so she snapped out the towel like a true texas rancher, planting the tip of the towel squarely on Keith's tip, a shot that elicited a decidedly unmanly shriek. Then, as if the noise was the starting gun for a race, Sarah set upon him, cracking the towel like a bullwhip, targeting his balls, his shaft, his tip, and both of his cheeks till it was all the same cherry red. As she did so, she elaborated to him her plans for their future together, plans whose very existence surprised Keith. He was sure, that, when this was all over, he'd be quietly divorced, and told to never set foot on the ranch again, on threat of another run through the cow processor.

But, as she snapped away, she spoke to him about forgiveness, and reminders. She told him that she was willing to forgive him, and that she still wanted to live out her days with him, she even said that she'd found an online job teaching english to foreign students from her computer, which meant they'd be able to stay at the ranch. This was where the second part of the plan came into play: she knew that, staying on the ranch, he continue to work on the cow processor, and be reminded every day of the price of his mistakes. And, as if that wasn't enough, she told him that the next stage would be the final one, but one that'd leave the most permanent yet of his 'souvenirs,' a thought which terrified Keith all the more as he considered his now permanently marked ass.

As Sarah finished giving her terms, she slung her weapon over her shoulder, and moved to stand next to Keith's face, where she removed his gag for the first time since this nightmare had started.

"Well, dear, I've made my terms clear. If you accept them, we can move on to finishing your sunday morals, and maybe in time for me to cook a nice dinner. So, my loving Keith, what'll it be?"

As her question echoed in Keith's mind, he realized it was never really a choice for him. Deep down, he know that he had earned everything that had happened to him today, and everything still yet to happen, so he offered a shaky "yes" to Sarah that he'd live out his end of the deal. With that, Sarah smiled warmly and told him that the processing phase of his induction into the life of cattle was over, and that the milking phase was next.

As Sarah said this, she moved back into the shadows, and Keith could hear the motors starting to spool up that would carry him to be...milked? In his newly ungagged state, Keith shouted his confusion, as he was a (in his own opinion, well endowed) man; surely he couldn't be milked. The only answer he received was a laugh from the darkness, and a promise that he'd find out what milking meant soon enough.

-MILKING-

While Keith pondered what exactly milking meant for him, he felt himself being dragged forward through yet more annoying plastic flaps, into a new room. This room certainly looked the part for a milking parlor, with white ceramic tiles everywhere and plenty of stainless steel tubing and glass tanks. The only things that made it stand out from every other milking parlor in Texas were the various large, HD displays mounted throughout the room, and the legion of robotic arms mounted on sliding tracks in the floor and on the ceiling, wielding a number of different implements. As Keith slid into the center of this mechanized dairy, he stopped in what would've been the first of the milking bays, after which a matched set of foam-lined steel half circles came together around his neck, trapping him and forcing his head into position, to look at the TV with a large 1 painted on the wall beneath it.

Keith was beginning to feel like he had a grip on what was going on, but that was soon dispelled by the appearance of Michael and Sarah on the screen in front of him, apparently streaming in from the main control center.

"City boy! Glad to see ya survived the cleanin' we put ya through without too much harm. Now, I'm sure yer wonderin' what all we've still got in store for ya... Yer a smart guy, city boy, so I'm sure you realize that ya can't really milk a bull, and as yer current state reveals, you sure ain't no cow..." As Michael delivered this last line, he broke into a hearty laugh, and reached down to push some keys which caused the image on the screen to split. Michael and Sarah now occupied half of the screen, with the other half becoming a composite of various angles of Keith, clearly showing his branded ass and throbbing cock. Having been too confused and in too much pain to feel shame up to this point, Keith would have blushed, had his skin not already been so red.

"Now, like I was sayin'," Michael drawled, "you'd have a hard time milkin' a bull. But, that's only for regular cows. City boy, don't forget, yer a new breed! This here cattle processor, as I'm sure you know seein' as you helped build it, can adapt its milkin' technique from breed to breed. So, when we was settin' up the Homo Fallax profile, we just flipped it, so that the computer knows yer a bull, but in this breed, it's bulls who get milked!" Michael seemed to have trouble getting out the latin name for the breed, but was no less enthusiastic, seeming to be genuinely excited to tell Keith about what he and Sarah had set up. The longer Michael talked, the more worried Keith's face became. He had a sinking feeling that he knew what was coming, but it was Sarah's comment about a permanent souvenir that worried him most.

"Well, city boy, that's the long and short of it... yer a bull of the Homo Fallax breed, and yer overdue for a good milkin'... just listen to the computer, and I'll see you outside, city boy!" With that, Michael pressed more keys on the keyboard in front of him, and his and Sarah's image faded from the display, meaning the tv was now full of the many views of Keith.

As Keith pondered Michael's statement, he heard servo motors start to move, and the computer began to speak. *NOW BEGINNING MILKING PROCEDURE FOR HF000001 'KEITH'* The computer spoke in an emotionless tone, the only change being that when it spoke Keith's name, it again used the same recording of Sarah from earlier. *MILKING PROCEDURE, STEP 1: ATTACHMENT OF MAGNETIC MILKING-TUBE ALIGNMENT DEVICE. PLEASE BE AS STILL AS POSSIBLE, KEITH, AS THIS DEVICE IS PERMANENT AND MISTAKES MAY MEAN LATER HARM TO YOUR UDDERS.*

At this, Keith panicked, because he knew that his 'udders' had only one teat, and it was distinctly cock shaped! As he thought this, he decided to just do what the computer said, and he tried to remain as still as possible. He heard an arm move below him, and he felt it put together two metallic pieces on his shaft, just below the rim of the head, forming a donut shape around his penis, snug but not too tight. Then, as the first arm held the two pieces together, another arm reached out and zapped the edges of the collar with an arc welder, fusing them permanently together around his dick.

"Well, this is what Sarah must've meant about souvenirs..." mused Keith as he could now feel the slight weight pulling down on his member. He supposed he'd just have to get used to it, since it didn't seem like it'd be going anywhere. As soon as the computer was confident the ring was secure, the arms retreated, and the computer spoke again.