Junecow

With that done, she drove into town. She shopped at the general store, and even though that new-found richness was there, she was her usual frugal self. If anything, though, she did hurry; she had a ten AM appointment that she must make, and she kept looking at her watch to make sure that she had the time. She drove home far faster than she usually did, and put things away quickly in her kitchen. The compulsion to make the appointment rattled her brain and sent her scurrying about quickly. She had moments to spare, and almost trotted to the old truck and pulled away without a further word.

There, at the big new barn, she knocked. Byron admitted her and praised her for her punctuality. She smiled, happy to receive the praise, and followed him up the stairs. They walked down the hall, and she was pleased to see JP for her nameplate.

"You'll want this," he said, turning to face her, his palm lifting and holding a small white disc. She took the offered pill and put it on her tongue, taking the glass of water he offered and swallowed it down. He then opened her door and led her inside, where he made sure that she was nice and comfortable. This time, when the room went utterly black, she was not in any way unsettled by this. In fact, she was pleased to be in that absence of stimuli.

Over the next two weeks, June's looks sunk into a deeply ragged state. She looked like she had lost some weight, especially at her ample middle, which accentuated the size of her chest. She walked with a gait that occasionally seemed unsteady, like she might collapse at any moment.

Her sleep had been exceedingly poor. She had even tried to go to bed as early as six-thirty one night, hoping to get a full ten hours of slumber. She did - she thought - but even as she awoke the next morning, again feeling evil - especially towards those horrible burdens of those insipid milk cows - she staggered off to pee and tried to recall her dreams. She was drenched, her light shift soaked through, and as had become a new morning normal, her sex was alive and pulsing with need.

She had never wanted to touch herself so badly before. It was an impossible feeling, she knew, because women such as herself never masturbated. Like ever. Yet she found her own fingers gliding over her plump, soft, bared thighs as she searched with one hand for a suitable dress for the day. She found one and barely kept her dominant hand away from her sopping sex. She slid the dress on; she forgot to wear panties. It was the first time in all of the forty-six years of her life that she had left her bedroom without wearing panties. Yet she forgot all about the importance of being a prim, proper lady at the moment; those goddamned cows needed to be milked and then she had a vitally important ten AM appointment.

***

Byron watched June's truck pull up. His eyes flicked to Trina, who was in her stall and looking perfectly satisfied. She did not even bother to pull on her restraints anymore, and the moment that the candy she so desperately wanted was presented to her, she took it with wild abandon. His eyes shifted to June, and he unlocked the door for her. She mechanically climbed the stairs and walked down the hall; she was functioning more or less like the automaton that he needed her to be. The little shelf opened and she picked up her pill and took the medicine cup filled with water, and took the pill. Then her door opened for her, swinging in silently and she walked to her sofa, and settled herself upon it.

He leaned forward and typed in a few notes. PHASE 2 begins, he marked on her file and noted the date.

Noting the phase two flashing imagery, he turned to observe June's performance. It was always a delicate thing, to know when to move a subject into the second phase. Her starter dose, administered on her first visit, was on the downside of its half-life and would soon be fully flushed out of her system.

As he watched her reactions, he smiled and breathed out a sigh of relief. Yes, he had timed her correctly. The tiredness on her face from the sleep deprivation that his drugs caused, then the dreams where her subconscious battled her conscious mind for dominance, had been his only real physical clue of her readiness. But as he watched her hands almost tear at her dress to pull it off, and seeing that this prim, proper woman had come to him without wearing panties, told him all that he needed to know.

He watched as her legs opened, and he smiled as he saw the little opening appear in the center of the sofa. The bright pink phallus rose from under the sofa, until it was fully extended. About six inches long but quite thick, the dildo's controlling mechanisms then turned it until it was angled at her woman's plump cunt. He smiled again; she was a pretty woman, overall, and just the perfect plumpness for his means. When the phallus hit her swollen, wet lips she howled in the room, a primal cry of utter lust. The phallus began its slow, steady movements, gliding into her body with ease, pulling out with ease.

Her hands rose to her breasts, and she massaged them. She had to massage them. She had to caress them. Her fingers pulled on her nipples, pulling and pulling on them, priming her. As the machine slowly, inexorably pistoned the dildo into her sex, yet at no time building up enough speed to trigger her orgasm, he noted her squirming increasing. The pink watch at her wrist, in its close monitoring status, sent a signal to his computer systems that changed the cycle, and the dildo pulled out of her body and returned to its vertical position. He saw the toy glistening with her juices, and it descended back into the sofa where it would undergo the cleaning cycle, then resting until it was called upon again to perform its critical service.

***

The next day, she saw that she had a new pill. The small white one was gone, replaced by a big horsepill. Still, she took it and swallowed it, and then the door unlocked and she entered.

She did not remember ever undergoing a twenty-four hour period where she had been that sexually aroused. She had looked at her ranch manager, a man that she would not have willingly fucked if he was the last human male on the planet, and wanted to walk over to him and unzip his jeans and put his fat cock into her mouth. She wanted to suck him until he was rigid and needy and dripping with precum and then she would turn around and wiggle her broad ass at him, and turn her face to his and beg him to plunder her cunt.

She hated oral sex and the word "cunt" had never once passed her lips. She had an almost physical loathing of her ranch manager's body, and so the desire to suck him off and then beg him to plunder her cunt was as if an alien had overtaken her body.

And worst of all? She had masturbated! She had actually touched her own sex in the shower, and her fingers came greased with her body's lubricants and burned hotter than the water cascading over her thick body. She put her fingers back and moved them, and as much as she wanted to touch her body until she shook from the force of that orgasm, she could not orgasm. She tried and tried, standing under the water until the heat died and the icy water shattered her arousal and sent her feeling. She dressed and milked the fucking cows and then puttered around aimlessly until it was time for her to leave for her appointment.

Yet this next day, she took the horse pill and walked into the room eagerly, and stood next to the sofa, aimlessly looking off into space for a moment, trying to recall her directions. Oh yes, she thought, I remember now!

She took her dress off and folded it neatly, setting it onto a table that had been thoughtfully placed in her cell. She then nestled herself into her sofa, eager for the lights to flick off and for her re-education to begin anew.

***

Byron's command center had six monitors all showing various stages of his work. He had five active cows now, and all five were in some stage of their milking. Even that ugly one Shannon glowed with healthy vitality; her enormous udders were currently his best producers. He hoped that June would do better than Shannon. At least June was pretty. Shannon was not.

Trina, in her station, was currently being serviced. She had proven to be an average to slightly below-average producer. He watched for a moment, the sexy scene not causing so much of a twitch in his trousers. The three others were in stasis, simply luxuriating in the process of the milk extraction.

He had only one bull at the moment. It was much more difficult to find a bull, especially in these hinterlands. But he had two leads, and his historical rate of turning one of every two leads into a bona fide bull seemed auspicious. His bull's face shows more outward pleasure than even his cows did, and Byron paused to watch closely for a moment. The bull shuddered and deposited a load of his semen into the collection tube, which carefully whisked it through the sterile tubing for storage.

Byron grinned further when his bull remained erect. He tapped his finger to his screen. "No, you're not done yet," he told the screen, showing his bull's reaction to the continued suckling action. The bull was straining wildly in the bonds, but they were secure and there was no escape. As they all did, finally he slumped in the bonds, the acute sensation of post-orgasm stimuli abating, and then it was back to the simple pleasure of the constant suckling.

Byron leaned forward and uttered a command into the microphone. A moment later, a tall, buxom woman emerged and walked down the corridor behind the rows of bulls to the lone one that he had. She had the strap on already affixed to her body, and she lubed it up and dumped a great deal of more lube onto the bull's lower back. It ran down between the crack of his ass, and then she stepped forward onto the platform, using the lift system to ensure that her body was positioned just so. She then gripped his hips and slid the phallus into his ass; this bull could not resist when his ass was being pleasured. He strained in the bonds again, this time in complete pleasure.

His eyes flicked to his newest cow, June, and he saw her bucking wildly on the sofa. He did not think "poor woman" because she was not a woman, she was a cow, and cows had to be properly prepared in order to generate their milk. He tapped the screen again and consulted her chart and the biometric readouts. Yes, he saw, she was not only on target, she was showing performance measures near the top of his theoretical scales. Quite the find, he decided, this cow.

On the penultimate day of phase two training, Byron walked into June's cell as she tiredly put her dress back on. She did not even look up at him as she stood vacant, her mind not yet operating back under her control.

"My dear June," Byron greeted her.

Her reply was soft, and dull. "Hello, Master," she intoned soberly. There was never any doubt that she would have any other reply.

"You want to please Master, correct?" he asked.

Her head bobbed obediently. "Oh yes, the cow does," she replied in just the right manner, slightly detached, improper pauses in her speech.

"Which of your dear lady friends is struggling with her farm right now?" he asked pleasantly.

He was not surprised that it took several minutes of lazy concentration for her to reply. "The cow thinks that Rachelle's farm is teetering on the brink."

"Rachelle? You know her well?"

She nodded. "The cow does."

"Does the cow want to move forward in the process?"

"Oh yes!" she replied, her voice finally inflecting some eagerness.

"The cow will visit Rachelle tomorrow and leave my card. If the cow is successful in recruiting Rachelle, then the cow will move into its third and final phase."

"The cow will succeed, Master," June's disembodied voice assured him.

"I am certain of it. You will be my very best cow. Winning the blue ribbon!"

The cow smiled happily. She nodded and then resumed dressing as Byron left the building. The 11AM slot was the last one that needed to be filled.

Byron paced anxiously back and forth. While his newest cow June assured him that she had succeeded, it was nearly five minutes to eleven and Rachelle had not yet shown up. His eyes flicked away from that screen showing the entrance to his ranch, and back to the Junecow, who was bucking wildly on the sofa. He hoped that his past four weeks of work were not going to be in vain. But as his eyes returned to the long-distance security camera, he spotted the green pickup that had its heyday two decades prior turn onto his property.

He turned and leaned over, toggling the microphone to activate the speakers in Junecow's cell. "Do you want your reward, cow?" he asked, and his Master's voice resounded in her cell.

Her shrieked affirmations almost made him smile. "Then you shall have it, cow," he said and paused significantly. "The cow now has permission to orgasm."

He stood back and it was a sight to see, this cow who had been chemically and physically prevented from achieving orgasm for the past four weeks explode with her first. And with that orgasm, her training was complete. He was now well and truly hers, now, and forever.

His attention turned to Rachelle who was alighting from her truck and staring suspiciously at his building. He emerged from inside, a little irritated with himself for not showing up ahead of time, a little annoyed with her for failing to be punctual, but still, within limits of all of his stated rules.

The seduction process began anew.

***

Later, he checked his bull storage levels. "Dammit," he muttered. He would have to dip into his strategic reserves. His current lone bull was a good producer, but he alone could not produce enough semen to keep his now six cows all properly fed. He'd have to break into the reserves, and he needed to escalate his work here on finding the bulls. The cows had been relatively easy, as he had expected. For whatever reason, this county had been filled with some of the heaviest, thickest udders that he'd ever encountered in his human cows. But that plethora of milkers had a downside and that was the dearth of bulls.

And his cows, they knew the difference between the semen of a strong, healthy ox-like bull and a weak, feminine one. His detailed analysis of the population here had resulted in a higher-than-average number of the weakened male. Maybe it was all these udders that they saw each day, that they had fallen into some subtle feminization that they even subconsciously did not realize.

And the men, gathering a male bull was so much more delicate than gleaning a cow. They were suspicious and angry and as often as not, refused the reprogramming. The milkcows almost never threw off the programming. They were programmed by life to be docile creatures, happiest when pleasing. Reprogramming a virile man to be a submissive bull was far more complicated, though his computer algorithms had turned up seven new names. Dossiers were being built.

It was dangerous to take one by force. Not dangerous to his operation or operatives, because they were swift and sure and practiced in the art of making people disappear without a trace. Dangerous because he was an interloper, and eventually suspicion would fall upon him. And while his operations were not exactly illegal, they were not exactly legal, either, and in that gray area of operations some hick sheriff might get a wild hair up his ass and conduct a raid. And that would end his current operations, and force yet another relocation.

But like he had strategic reserves of semen, he had vast quantities of his cow milk reserved. He even had some batches from the first of his operations, the smallest and least profitable of them all, but that one that proved his business model would work. His customers, all of whom paid exorbitant prices for his luxury and rare products, had made him rich enough that even now he could not figure out a way to spend all that he earned.

He saw that Katcow was agitated. He toggled a switch. "Katcow requires service," he indicated. In the ready room, Katcow's handler rose. As he walked from his resting spot to the door, he saw that his handler's erection rose with its usual swiftness. He tracked the handler's movements until it stood behind Katcow, and he smacked her white, upturned rump and she groaned, and then he stood on the platform and waited until it adjusted to the proper height. Then he gripped her hips and plunged that erection into her screaming, needy cunt and began to service her. She calmed immediately as her agitation turned to sexual pleasure and she soon whimpered in lust as the hard cock pummeled her needy cunny.

Finally, she achieved her orgasm, and her handler, upon recognizing that, pulled his cock out of her body and stroked himself until his ejaculate splattered all over her broad ass. He looked down and made sure that he was emptied, then used his hands to smear his seed onto her ass. She purred with pleasure at that, and once that act was completed, the handler began the process of unhooking her from her harness. Her udders were deflated and her dose of bull semen had been less than 75% of the required volume. She would not be needed for another three days, so he set the timer on her system and her watch began sending out the proper signals.

She dressed and left, and as she exited his property, she began to resume her normal life, looking forward to seeing her husband and children.

The handler, who had at one time had been a bull, staggered back to the holding room and went to his cell. Bulls were always ruined by his processes; their minds were wiped, preferring to remain in that unthinking state. Their balls were shriveled and they were generally incapable of producing any viable seed. They could still achieve erections and still ejaculate, but their seed was thin and useless to him. So they were good for the lotion that kept his cows' skin soft and healthy, and Byron saw this servicer slip into bed and where he'd probably remain for all of the seventy-two hours that his cow was not needed at the ranch.

***

He met Junecow in person the next morning. They were at the bottom of the steps. He offered her the pill that she took wordlessly and smiled.

"How is my cow today?" he asked pleasantly.

"Master's cow is content!" she said warmly.

"Today is an exciting day, my lovely cow," he praised her.

As always, Master's praise put an enormous smile on her face. "Why is that, Master?" It wanted to know.

"Today, my precious cow, you begin milking for me," he announced to her.

Programmed to accept that this was her highest calling in life, the cow did a happy dance, hopping from foot to foot and clapping with glee. He slid the door open.

"We have prepared your stall for you," he took her hand into his, and she smiled gratefully. She followed him dutifully. They stopped in front of a stall that gleamed from its disinfectant cleanse. There were two bars, wide and padded.

"Do you wish to enter?" Byron asked his newest cow.

"Yes, Master."

"Do you know what to do?"

"Oh yes, Master, this cow knows!" she told him, seeking his affirmation.

"Show me how," he smiled at her. Once more, her face lit up with delight at seeing the Master pleased with her, and she walked forward. It was custom-fitted for her, so she was able to press her two thick thighs into the stiff mold. Upon feeling her legs in the harness, the wide, curved restraints slid out from their slots at the midpoint of her thigh and calves. They slid into their receiving end, a perfectly engineered fit, and with a soft click, the locking mechanism fitted into place. She eagerly slid the top rail up and through the ninety degree bend, and then she looked up and slid her hand into the wrist fitting at one side. She took care to position her left hand carefully, and then she gripped the handles. The sensors in the handles signaled to the computer to slide the curved wrist attachments out of their holding position, and she squealed happily when the wrists were now locked into place.