Atonement Ch. 03

She groaned a complaint, but nobody came to answer her distress. She undulated her body like a porpoise, but only succeeded in pressing herself deeper into the gel coating on the bed.

From the reflected view, she could tell that her ass was exposed, butt lifted upwards in the chair. Her front was tilted moderately downward, head directed towards the tiled floor. Her breasts hung straight down, pulled by gravity. Cool air circulated through the gap in the chair, making her shiver as it rushed down her chest.

The worst part was that her chest felt so damn itchy. She squeezed her bound hands into fists, trying to distract herself, but it didn't work. She breathed hard, moaning in frustration as she strained uselessly against her bonds.

She groaned around her gag. The others must have escaped by now or been recaptured. They wouldn't be coming back for her. It was her fault for hanging around in the rear. If she had been just a little more enthusiastic about their escape, that alien wouldn't have been able to ambush her!

She supposed she shouldn't blame herself, she was way out of her element. Tinkering and thinking through a single problem for hours was more her forte, not social skills or escaping prisons. Fuck, she would never have joined the crew in the first place if Natalia hadn't recruited her. It was hard to adjust to being part of a pirate crew, but in time, they had made her feel welcome, in their own ways. She moaned and cried, remembering Ashley's last failed attempt at baking cookies, which had turned into burnt offerings. She sighed heavily, hoping her compatriots were having better luck than she was.

She wasn't certain how long she sat there, but it seemed like an eternity. The itching had finally let up, but the coolness of the circulating air tickled her down to her nethers. A puddle of drool collected on the floor, her neck muscles exhausted from looking around. Leaning her neck forward wasn't much better, but at least she didn't have to see the terrible situation she was caught in.

Her eyes drifted shut with exhaustion, just as a door chimed open. Suddenly alert, she lifted her head to look at her visitor, moaning with dismay.

It was that neon green keeper that Morgan had called 'Heather,' and she was dressed in a very alarming ensemble. She had only caught vague glimpses of keepers in the facility before, but even then she knew that this outfit was out of place.

The black, latex bodysuit seemed fairly standard, but the breast fabric cutouts had been removed entirely in favor of a strict, black corset with buckles running down the center. Each buckle was cinched right with a circular clasp, bearing a mark that looked suspiciously like that of a pie.

There must be some significance behind it, but Iris wasn't sure what that might be. Its presence helped to lift and extend the woman's voluptuous attributes. Not that she needed the help, for her large breasts were swelled with milk, the pale white substance beading on the tips of her nipples.

While this was fairly distracting, it was far from the most alarming part of her outfit. No, that was reserved for the gigantic, black dildo which sprouted from her nether regions like an oversized carrot. Like her breasts, the tip of the penis was dribbling too, but she doubted this was milk.

Her mind refused to believe what was being presented to it, but the alien keeper wasn't waiting for her to catch up. "It's good to see you, cow," she said, stepping further into the room on impossibly high heels.

Iris stared at the sheer height of the boots, still in disbelief. "It's not often I get to punish an escape attempt, and I'm positively stiff."

She bumped her hips and grasped her dildo, a small squirt of liquid escaping its tip. "Cows like you don't know your place until you've been properly fucked. Lucky me, I get to be the one who breaks you in."

She trotted forward, pressing her hand under the chair Iris was bound to. Her chest moved up with a soft hum, her back aching as it was forcefully tilted into the new angle.

In her new position, Iris had no choice but to look up at the keeper. This had obviously been done on purpose. The sadistic alien licked her ruby red lips, stretching them into an unnaturally wide smile. She watched Iris' futile struggles with a hint of delight in her bottomless eyes.

She slapped the side of Iris' cheek, encouraging more slobber to decorate her chin. She grabbed one of the metal loops which kept her lips open wide, tugging at it until Iris wanted to shriek from the ache in her neck. She could just die from the humiliation and discomfort!

Mercifully, the alien tired of this play, bumping up against the chair and setting one of her voluminous breasts in front of the captured pirate. "Still so young, with only four injections," said the keeper.

"It's no wonder that you haven't yet learned your place. I always tell Eve that gentler methods don't get results." She grinned. "None of the cows under me forget who they work for."

She wrapped her hands around her swollen breast, grunting as she pinched her areola with her thumb and forefinger. "It's always more difficult to do this by hand, but in your state I doubt you would be cooperative, so we shall make do."

A dribble of milk formed at the tip of her breast, collecting into a small mass until it had grown large enough to start dribbling down the front. Iris tried to turn her head away, but the alien slapped her.

"You can keep disobeying, but you're only prolonging your own punishment. You will drink my milk. You have no other choice."

Iris groaned, but she knew that this Heather was telling the truth. She was already addicted to the taste of the alien milk, and it was only a matter of time until she succumbed anyway. Wouldn't it be better to make the choice herself? She reluctantly turned back, looking at the keeper with defiance.

"Good cow," said the alien, pressing her large breast into Iris' mouth without preamble. Iris was surprised to find the milk flowing fast already, the sweet, thick substance washing past her tongue into her throat.

"You're drinking my milk. You're addicted to our milk. You love tasting it. You are a cow."

Iris disagreed, but the physical evidence said otherwise. Her body clearly loved this alien's milk, her body juicing now that she was being fed.

The alien stroked the back of her neck, as if she owned her. "Feel it run down your throat, the sticky, sweet liquid filling up your insides, making you dumb. Your brain dribbles down your thighs, arousal spreading as the warmth of my fluids take over your body."

Iris wanted to deny her statements, but they were coming true, just as she had said. The addictive milk was making her dumb, but she needed more of it! When Heather shifted to lift her other breast into place, she giggled like an idiot.

"Yes, drink it all down, you're a drinking slut," said the alien, pinching her nipple to force more of the liquid into Iris' throat.

She swallowed, knowing that she was lost. This alien was too intoxicating for her to resist. She jerked at the nipple eagerly, extending her neck as far as it would go so she could better access the dribbling milk.

Heather sighed, smiling in satisfaction. "They all say they're hot shit until they get a taste of my milk. Then they're just dumb cows. You're a dumb cow."

Iris nodded, breathing through her nose as she obeyed the alien's demand, ducking down to extract as much as she would give her. Her eyes fixated on the breast flesh, hungry for more, but it was getting harder to extract the sweet substance.

Soon, only a trickle was entering her lips, no matter how hard she sucked. Finally, the nipple slipped free with a pop, her lips moving involuntarily.

"Good cow," sighed the keeper. "I would have more to give you, but too much, too soon would put you in a coma. That's why I already shared most of my milk with one of my other eager cows before coming here.

Her dark eyes glowed. "I only give my best milk to the cows that obey the best. If you try harder, you might be able to increase your ranking, but as it stands now, you're just another pedestrian cow."

Iris groaned, reaching out for more milk, but the mistress wasn't having any of it. She slapped her cheek, forcing her questing mouth away. "Patience, cow, you're only suitable for drinking the diluted milk of others for now."

She reached over and toggled a rocker switch on the wall, a black mask descended from the ceiling. Iris looked at her with doe eyes, her lips working.

"I do wonder what goes through the head of a cow like you when you find the opportunity to run? Do you truly believe you can escape? Or is it just a cry for more attention?"

She palmed the mask in her hand, turning it around to show Iris the front. "None of you are better than us, and it falls to me to show you what you really are. You're a number, a small cog in our machine. We control you, and you enjoy what we do to you. You don't think. You don't try to escape. You belong to us, as our cattle."

The mask beeped, a digital display on the front lighting up with 'MU3.'

Heather took a peek at the number. "As expected," she said. "They like to number a herd of cows together. You should be proud that you've been grouped with two high producing cows. Perhaps their production will rub off on you?"

She turned, presenting the back of the mask to Iris' face. "Or perhaps not. You may be fit for nothing more than joining the filter room. Don't worry, cow, we'll find the proper place for you. A cow is always useful, even in menial pursuits."

Iris could do nothing but moan at the keeper's monologue, her thoughts wrapped up in the sweet drug of her milk. Instead of thinking, she only felt. Her body was on fire, each breath bringing another burst of sensitivity. She wanted more milk, to drown in an ocean of the mind killing liquid.

Her breasts were turgid, needy for attention. She could feel droplets of milk forming on the surface of her nipples. Sweat ran down her front, trickling onto the bondage chair. She needed to be touched. She strained her arms without effect.

Heather pressed the mask up to her face, the black interior tasting salty. A hard protrusion nudged against her lips, and she dropped her jaw to allow it entry. The hard rubber nub slipped inside, her teeth setting against a ridge.

The interior of the mask was black, hard muffs pressing against her ears. Tubing worked its way into her nose, a rush of cool air entering her lungs. The back of the mask was strapped around her skull, making it air tight.

Outside sounds were muffled, but she could hear the keeper humming while she worked. She could see nothing, for the mask hadn't been fitted with portholes. A cow didn't need to see what her keeper was doing.

The sensory deprivation only served to make her more sensitive, jumping at every perceived sound. The keeper was shuffling something around.

"You're an average sort of cow, I don't think we need to do anything special for you."

Her chest lurched as she felt fingers running over her breasts. "Your udder hasn't yet come in," the keeper said, sounding disappointed. "I suppose we can't expect every cow in the herd to be a top milker. I was hoping that I would get my hands on one of the Ultras."

She grunted. "There's still room for one such as you."

Cool fingers traced her breasts in a circle, stopping to give each one a friendly squeeze. "Ready for the pressure, cow? One, two, here we go!"

She gasped as her breasts were tugged downwards, a hard plastic pressing against her flesh. A painful vacuum tugged insistently. The milking had commenced.

She didn't have much to give initially, but she could feel a warm glow starting, but only a trickle. The gag in her mouth inflated, trapping her tongue on the floor as the hard, rubber protrusion extended further. A warm spurt of liquid splashed against the back of her throat.

"There, now," said Heather. "A small taste of what being a filter cow is like. All they do is suck and pump their entire shift. Suck and pump."

Iris hummed, drinking the thin liquid with gusto. It was pathetic, but this was all she needed to be happy now. The mechanical manipulation of her breasts had satisfied an itch she couldn't scratch. It was strange to say, but she actually felt happy being used like this.

"Eve likes to claim I'm cruel, but that's not true," said the alien conversationally." Her heels tapped on the floor as she moved around to Iris' rear. "I simply believe that cows should know their place as our slaves, nothing more."

She slapped Iris' ass. "If that means I get to impregnate the herd, all the better!"

Drinking more milk, Iris made no reply, but she could feel the thick length of her mistress' dildo pressing against her nether regions. Heather grabbed big handfuls of both her ass cheeks, pressing them together around her dick.

"These are large, but they'll be so much bigger once your transformation has completed! Large, bulges of red flesh. Yes, I can see your coloration beginning. You're going to be a red cow."

She thrust her waist forward, digging the hard dildo deeper into Iris's ass crack. The friction against her vulva set her off, her body vibrating, becoming wet for her mistress. She needed that thick, black cock inside her. She needed it now.

Heather didn't accommodate her wishes. Instead, she rocked back and forth, rubbing the hard rubber against Iris's privates. All she could manage was a low groan, her nipples spurting more milk in sympathy with her distress.

"It's a natural state of affairs to feel like you need my dick, hard and rigid between your legs. A cow should always desire to be bred by her mistress."

She leaned over her captive, resting her hands on her slave's lower back. "If you're not thinking about being fucked, you're thinking too much," she whispered.

Iris shivered, her breasts wobbling in the suction cups. She gurgled past the milk in her mouth, signaling her distress. She was so wet she could feel lubrication starting to trickle down her thighs. She chewed on the gag in her mouth, the tight rubber mask creaking on her head.

She needed to be fucked. The thought echoed, bouncing around and around in circles. It was the only thing she knew. The keeper was torturing her with the pleasure she was withholding, keeping Iris right on the edge of exploding.

"At about this point, you'll do anything for me, do anything, be anything. You need to be taken, and I will take you. I will take your name, MU3, I will take your life and mold you into a cow slave, a good slave so obedient that you will orgasm on command."

Her voice lowered back to a whisper. "You'll call yourself a cow. You'll think and believe it. By the end of your transformation, you won't want to be anything else."

She laughed. "Because you won't be able to be anything else!"

She leaned back and grabbed her ass. "You look wet!" she declared. "Are you ready for this?"

She prodded at Iris' ass with the tip of her cock, rubbing it in circles. Iris shivered with anticipation, but Heather withdrew against, eliciting another groan of despair. "You're not ready for that, cow. You need to be bred."

Without preamble, she removed the dildo and jammed it into Iris' vagina, sliding it home. The slickness of her canal provided no resistance, welcoming its presence. After all the taunting, it was a blessed relief when the keeper entered her.

The dildo had been made with several bumps over its surface, a mottled rod that filled her to her core. She had been worried that it would bump up against her cervix, but there was no pain as the thick rod pumped in and out of her.

She hummed with pleasure, sucking at the gag which had swelled in her mouth. She was floating, dissociated from reality, her mind as high as a kite. It was true, what the keeper said. She was a slut. She was nothing more than a slave cow.

"Yes, cow, I'm fucking you," said the keeper, satisfaction coloring her voice. "When I trigger my release, I'm going to fill you so full of my sperm you won't be able to walk. You'll be thanking me in a few weeks when that baby bump begins to form and your milk production increases."

Iris shuddered, a burst of pleasure shaking through her body as her mind imagined what it would be like to be gravid with young. Harnessed with a full udder, owned by a keeper who milked her regularly. It sounded fantastic, and all she needed to do was give in and let the sensations carry her into slavery.

The keeper was rutting her like an animal, screwing her with abandon as her milk was efficiently extracted. Her body seemed to fade away, a simple container for the sensations that became her world.

She was nothing more than a hole, a receptacle for her mistress. She was a cow. She was MU3.

"You're an excellent cow, but your current production is just too low. We'll keep giving you injections until you fill out with a proper udder. You're already half way there. I will enjoy fucking you when your new breasts come in."

The keeper rocked forward and kept herself there, the knobbly dildo pulsing within her vagina. Her nether lips spasmed around its presence, wishing for more.

"The tip of my cock is nestled next to your cervix," declared the keeper. "It's going to spurt inside you, making you Mine!"

Warmth spread inside her as her muscles clenched around the intruder. The throbbing pulsation inside her increased with intensity. She almost choked on the next mouthful of liquid, her masked head pushed forward as her body vibrated in orgasm.

Heather pressed tight against her, her pubic area flush against MU3's ass. The thick cock squirted its load inside her, pulsating as it delivered its cargo.

MU3. She was MU3! She repeated the phrase, embedding it in her mind as the cock pulled out her snatch with a wet pop. Liquid drained down her thighs, but she didn't care, the breast pumps still working.

She mooed her contentment, swallowing another mouthful of milk as she relaxed into the frame. The orgasm had overloaded her mind, leaving her helpless to resist the keeper's influence. She belonged to Her. She was Her property. Her mind wandered in the afterglow, thinking about nothing in particular.

She was comatose when the next set of needles were inserted into her neck.

***

They had wandered through the maze of pipes for a few minutes without making any progress. Provisions had been made for maintenance access, but there were no main thoroughfares in the room. Navigating a pipe necessitated a tedious procedure of climbing a set of metal stairs to get down to the other side, or squeezing through small side passages.

They had climbed several sets of such stairs and were resting on top of the fourth crossover, having made no progress towards their goal. Though what precisely they were trying to accomplish beyond running was just as obtuse. All of them were looking for an opportunity, but none jumped out at them.

After the next descent, Daisy crossed her arms. "I'm getting tired of this," she declared, eyeing one of the big tanks they had been crawling around.

It was enormous, at least a story tall, made entirely of shined metal. At the front was a spigot and a pressure gauge. On the side of the tank was a vertical level, indicating that it was over half full.

"What do you think they're storing in there?" she asked, licking her lips.

"Milk," said Natalia dryly. "What else could it be around here?"

"Yes, but from what species?" asked Morgan, now curious.

"Who cares," said Kylie dismissively. "Come on, Daisy," she said, trying to grab her arm. "We've got to keep moving, moving." Her teeth chattered, blood red eyes staring into the distance.

A pipe on the side of the tank gurgled, and the pressure gauge swung. Daisy shrugged off her grip, staring at the piping. "Do you think it could be alien milk? I need to know," she said, smacking her lips.