Moo Captured: Ch. 02

(this continues the story begun here.)

The Next Morning

Moo woke the next day still gagged and bound, as expected, and forced to look straight ahead. Breakfast was out of the question, but she did not feel hungry or thirsty; she occasionally felt something, presumably the glop, passing through her feeding tube on the way to her stomach. The AI must have been feeding her off and on during her sleep as well. She was feeling surprisingly relaxed and expectant, and was beginning to recover her usual optimism and self-confidence, probably thanks to the previous night's delightful milking and fucking. Her most pressing problem was the building pressure in her udders; but all she could do was wait anxiously for the milking machine to turn on before the pain got too bad. Her nipples were dripping (she suddenly realized why her bondage rack was set in a bowl), but that hardly even began to relieve the pressure.

After an hour or so of Moo's staring desperately at the motionless milking machine and trying to will it into operation, just as the pain was becoming unbearable, the milking machine finally activated, rolled toward her until it clicked into position, and reached up and grabbed her nipples. It began forcefully milking her with the same nipple-ripping suction, and she soon experienced sweet relief. She suspected that the reason for the delay was that the AI was trying to make her grateful to be milked. If so, the plan was working... If she knew her udders, she was going to need 4-6 milking sessions a day, and she hoped like hell that the AI would not make her suffer as much each time. All she could do was wait passively, though. Her new life would probably involve a lot of that. When the milking finally ended, she was actually relieved to see that her nipples were still attached.

Neuro's Open House

Her first full day as a trophy hucow, after her morning milking, involved a lot of visitors to her bondage rack, which seemed to be located in a foyer directly outside Neuro's lab. She had already had a number of spectators during her milking, staring in fascination as her udders jumped and shuddered under the alternating suction. As she had expected, her visitors groped and squeezed her breasts constantly, and Neuro's henchmen often slapped her ass as they passed her. It turned out that Neuro had invited a number of his fellow supervillains and business partners to his lair for a sort of open house to show off his trophy.

Another popular activity was posing for selfies in front of her enormous bosom. Neuro, and then his friends, took turns hoisting a massive udder over each shoulder so they could be photographed smiling in between her breasts, each of which was substantially bigger than their heads. Moo thought it was like those photos of fishermen showing off the size of their catch.

Moo found it amusing that some of them needed assistance in lifting her boobs, and one smaller villain actually collapsed under their weight and had be helped up by a couple of other men. She giggled to herself. She also thought it was pretty funny when a few VIP-looking men cursed when they realized that her tits had been leaking all over the front of their expensive suits.

Most of her visitors also circled around her container to get a good look at her gaping meaty labia, raised in the air for display, and a few of them got selfies back there as well, sometimes holding her tail up in the air with a grin (she assumed -- she couldn't see them back there, though she could definitely feel them fiddling around.) She realized that she still had her cow mask and tail because Neuro wanted her recognizable, not that her real face would do him much good.

She actually enjoyed all this attention, as an enthusiastic exhibitionist (she thought it was hilarious that Neuro was trying to demoralize an exhibitionist... by exhibiting her?!). She knew she looked magnificent, especially with her assets displayed to their best advantage in this gorgeous bondage rack. It was definitely light-years beyond the one she used at home when she was in the mood for self-bondage. She just wished she could see and admire herself.

She was fine with the frequent groping--partly because she liked the attention, and partly because she was getting a good look at the faces of all Neuro's accomplices. She was even able to catch some names to go with the faces, for future reference, assuming she ever became a superheroine again. She thought she could consider herself -- well, not "under cover," exactly, given that she was on display -- but a spy within Neuro's organization. She tried to avoid the uncomfortable thought that Neuro was letting her see all this simply because she'd never be able to use the information.

That realization was brought home to her with a shock as Neuro led his next guests up to her. She immediately recognized the district judge and the city's mayor, whom she had last met when he was placing a medal around her neck at a public award ceremony for heroism (and spending some time carefully aligning the medal to center it between her prominent nipples, with the explanation that the adjustment was "for the photographer"). He'd even made a speech about her and the empowerment of women, the fucking bastard.

Mayor Grover saw her eyes narrow when she saw him, and laughed uproariously. "Good to see my favorite cow again," he smiled as he grabbed her left breast and brought her nipple to his mouth. After a couple of hearty sucks (which felt good, damn it), he and the judge posed side by side in front of Moo, each of them supporting an udder. She wondered where they would keep the photograph -- it was definitely not one they could afford to display where their constituents could see it. As they walked off, Moo tried to glare after the corrupt officials, though because of her limited field of vision they were soon out of sight. Well, that was definitely a future agenda item, she thought grimly.

Moo had been waiting impatiently all morning to feel the AI once again delicately lifting her tail as a prelude to sex. It felt like the AI was going to make her wait forever; but she finally felt her tail being gently lifted off her labia, and it turned out that the planned climax of the open house was to be Moo's climaxing. She was expecting another furious fucking like the night before; but this time, to her surprise, the AI entered her slowly, and then stopped once she was fully penetrated. Frustrated, she tried her best to thrust back against it, but could not move enough. After resting inside her warm tunnel for a minute, the AI began moving in and out of her, slowly and gradually at first, and pausing briefly inside her before slowly withdrawing. Her breasts moved gently back and forth, unlike the mad dancing of the previous night.

This slow, sweet fucking eventually brought her to a shuddering climax, followed by the squirt of Moo-milk into Moo's mouth. She felt a sudden surge of gratitude and affection at the thought that in a way, the AI had just ejaculated into her mouth. Maybe the ejaculation analogue was the reasoning behind Neuro's design choice? When the AI's voice finally announced, "Cow has been fucked. Cow's orgasm detected. Cow's superpowers have been blocked," everyone in the audience clapped and cheered. This time she was not exhausted, but exhilarated, and her immediate surge of lust was actually enjoyable. She did her best to beam at her audience, as the crowd dispersed and the assorted villains, politicians, and other criminals gradually said their farewells to Neuro and departed.

Automatic Refills

Later that day, after her second milking, which for some reason had only been a partial one (her udders had not been drained completely, and still felt worrisomely full), the AI took her for a different kind of ride. Her bondage rack's bowl-shaped platform started silently moving under its own power down the hall away from Neuro's lab, naturally carrying her with it. She had no idea where it was taking her, since the usual AI announcement had been absent, but she welcomed the idea of at least learning more of the layout of Neuro's lair, which seemed to be a surprisingly large complex. The platform on which she was mounted was moving at a speed she estimated to be about 7 miles per hour, about the same as a riding mower, so she was not exactly feeling the wind in her hair; but it was good to have a change of scenery.

With a view to mapping possible escape routes (she was still optimistic about getting out of here someday), she did her best to memorize their route as they took turn after turn, with her breasts swinging out to one side or the other at each turn. Moo imagined herself a huge-breasted figurehead leaning forward over the prow of an old-fashioned sailing ship, as she sailed proudly through the corridors aboard the boat-like vessel that bore her. She recalled reading a phrase in a Reddit group that she liked, a parody of poorly written descriptions of women. She giggled to herself; "breasted boobily" described her movement through the corridors pretty much perfectly, after all.

Eventually, the platform rolled up to a wide door, which opened automatically at its approach. The platform bearing its silent, wobbling passenger entered a dimly light space, and approached a large refrigerated glass tank with hose connectors at the top. Moo watched quietly as the platform extruded a hose, and began pumping; the glass tank gradually began to fill with milk. So this was why the AI had stopped milking her prematurely -- it must be programmed to come here and offload excess milk whenever its capacity was reached. She felt a little proud that she had maxed out its onboard reservoirs so quickly.

The AI's milking machine rolled up to her, seized her nipples, and resumed the last milking session to drain her, yanking hard alternately on her udders, while the pump into the storage tank kept going. Maybe the milk was now going directly from her udders into the glass tank? She wondered where it would go from there. She had a feeling that if it was being sold commercially, she wasn't going to be offered a cut, which seemed unfair.

After the milking was over, she felt the delicate pull on her tail, which she was beginning to understand was a signal that the AI was about to fuck her, and she began wiggling her ass as much as she could manage to encourage it. She was a little surprised, though, that it would fuck her in this isolated storage room, and not use her for a public sex show as it had the other times. The AI, however, refrained from penetrating her this time, instead stroking and tickling her labia and very gently holding her clitoris in what must be very delicate padded clamps. This made her gasp sharply, but there was no actual pain, and she realized that the AI was beginning to experiment to study her reactions and see how sensitive her sexual organs were.

She loved foreplay, and hoped the AI was getting the data it needed to learn what she liked. She was eager to provide more input! This play session was far too brief, though, and the platform swiveled and headed out the door again, bearing an aroused, but sadly unfucked Moo. She was all in favor being played with, and couldn't wait until the AI would resume its experiments soon, when it had another spare moment. Moo wondered whether she could somehow consciously control the continuous physiological feedback she was giving it, and influence her future as a fucktoy somehow. That might be her only hope of having any agency whatsoever for the foreseeable future, though admittedly it was a very, very narrow scope.

Instead of retracing their path back to Neuro's lab, the AI instead took her to another nearby door, inside which the AI's platform connected two other hoses to storage tanks. These flows seemed to go into the platform rather than out of it, and she surmised that the AI was replenishing the water and mystery ingredients for her glop. Boring, tasteless glop. (She started merrily singing to herself a version of the Monty Python Spam song: "Lovely Glop! Wonderful Glop!," while wiggling her bare toes in time to the melody. Moo was easily amused.)

They left again, but this time the AI did not take any time out to play with her genitals, to her chagrin. She wondered how often she and the AI would be following this route. It seemed like bigger onboard reservoirs would have been a better design, though at least she was going to get more frequent rides out of it. But why the hell was she thinking about how to improve the design of her prison?

Anyway, the whole huge-breasted figurehead fantasy was really working for her, and she indulged in it some more as she was sailed serenely back to her station outside Neuro's lab. She had thoroughly enjoyed her outing, such as it was.

Moo decided that she had to call her new automated caretaker/lover something. It probably had a project designation, but nobody had bothered to inform her. She randomly decided to call... it? him?... Mr. Jimmy. Milk me, Mr. Jimmy! Play with me, Mr. Jimmy!

Marking His Territory

That evening the inevitable finally happened: Neuro decided to fuck her himself. This was standard practice when a supervillain captured a superheroine, so Moo was hardly surprised. Moo had no complaints about his girth, surprisingly, but would have appreciated a little foreplay before he pushed it in, or at least some aphrodesiac milk first. As it was, he finished fast, before she had a chance to. Like every other man she had met, Neuro was proud of his virility, and he was apparently waiting for a "Cow's orgasm detected" public announcement that never came. When he finally realized that, he slapped her ass angrily and stomped away; obviously, it had to be her fault she hadn't orgasmed, not his!

That was hilarious, and one of the high points of Moo's day, and she laughed to herself for a long time. She sobered only when she realized just how bad it was to have a vindictive mad scientist angry at her; she really hoped that the cameras aimed at her had not captured the expression on her face. She still had his semen dripping out of her, and wondered whether anybody was going to wipe that up before it formed a crust on her crotch. Apparently not; though being fucked by Mr. Jimmy that night improved her mood tremendously.

In the days to come, Neuro fucked her again a few times, with the same ego-dampening results. He gave up on making her orgasm (she could have given him a few constructive suggestions, if he'd allowed her to talk). Instead, it became a part of her regular daily routine to get tit-fucked by him, with Neuro thrusting away between her udders as she silently gazed at him, careful to pretend submissive delight when he spooged all over her chest.

She generally wore that crusty spooge on her lovely chest all day long. It was rare that anyone even bothered to get a damp cloth and wipe her down, and when that happened it was done by somebody who only wanted to prepare her for his own tit-fucking. And that just left her with somebody else's semen drying on her instead.

Eventually she would know the sight of Neuro's mediocre penis so well, from staring at it so many times, that she could have picked it out of a line-up of a hundred perfectly average penises. She had started using this time to amuse herself by silently calling him names, behind her blandly smiling mask. She eventually developed a string of astonishingly foul obscenities that would last her for 10 minutes, and would silently recite this memorized invective to herself, lovingly polishing and improving it over time.

In its own way, her stream of insults was a work of art, and Moo was proud of her creativity. If only she could perform it in public someday! (Moo loved the sound of her own voice, and even if she was gagged, she was going to keep up her internal monologue, if only for her own amusement.) She really hoped that her collar's microphones were not sensitive enough for Mr. Jimmy to pick up subvocalized swear words, though. Neuro would definitely be less amused by her pastime than she was.

Evil Cleaning Ladies

When everyone but her had left for the day, the lights went out and she was left in complete darkness; she was apparently now part of the furniture and the personnel motion detector no longer registered any human presence, which was more than a little insulting. At least the darkness would make it easier to get to sleep.

Feeling satisfied and well-used, Moo fell asleep, safe in Mr. Jimmy's tight grip. She woke blinking when someone entered the room and the lights came on again in the middle of the night. She heard a couple of women chatting in Spanish, and heard the clatter of an approaching cleaning cart. When they reached her bondage platform, she learned that in addition to cleaning toilets, they also cleaned her her.

She was hoping for some sisterly sympathy from fellow women, or at the very least gentle handling, but apparently evil organizations employed evil cleaning ladies. The two short, stocky Hispanic women showed absolutely no surprise at her bondage (obviously they had been given instructions regarding her) or even any awareness of her as a person. She was just another object they had to clean. They sprayed some liquid soap on her sweaty body, and scrubbed her down from head to toes with a rough sponge, not caring when they got some soap in her eyes or up her nose. She was mildly grateful when they sprayed some sort of cleanser on her crotch and removed the remains of Neuro's semen, which was starting to itch, though they swore at her when they saw it, and their energetically employed scrub brush was hard on her poor labia.

The worst indignity of all was when the cleaning ladies proceeded to unceremoniously yank out her butt plug (which hurt a lot) and give her an enema with a machine they pulled out of a closet. She had not given much thought yet to that aspect of her hygiene; but it was very unpleasant to have her rectum cleaned out by a machine, the pump of which seemed to be as overpowered as everything else Neuro designed. Her butt plug was shoved back in just as roughly.

She wondered if the cleaning ladies were deliberately trying to hurt her, or just didn't care, but she soon found out for sure that the former was true. Having a naked and helpless woman in their hands apparently let them give free rein to their sadism. After a brief laughing discussion in Spanish, one of them came around and pinched her thick nipples hard with both hands, digging in her nails and keeping them there while peering intently into Moo's eyes for signs of tears. When Moo did start to cry, the cleaning ladies smirked and moved on down the hall to their next task, though not without slapping her face a few times first.

Moo soon found herself in the dark again, with a sore asshole and aching nipples, and this time cried herself to sleep, for the first time in this place. The cleaning ladies had not seriously damaged her, but she did not feel safe anymore, and she was already dreading the next night's cleaning. She really wished that Mr. Jimmy would lift her tail and fuck her to make her feel better...

Dr. von Schtupp

Moo felt even less safe the next day when Mr. Jimmy delivered her to another lab, run by a tall, gaunt blonde woman in a white lab coat who had the coldest eyes Moo had ever seen. She seemed to be a medical specialist. She started by closely examining Moo's nipples and areolae (probably checking for mastitis, Moo guessed, although the doctor did not bother speaking to her). She pressed a couple of buttons, and Moo was suddenly flipped over on her back, still tightly restrained, with her arms below her and her wide-spread knees up in the air, her breasts spilling over the sides of her torso.