The Pasture in Space

"You were chosen. Not because you are smart. Not because you are sexy, though you will do smart and sexy things, or you'll find yourself spaced. No, you were selected because you can feel. You can relate. The life of a milk mother is long and tedious. Hucows are pumped full of hormones to produce more and more milk. Unending sexual stimulation weakens her resistance and ruins her mind. After a few years of this treatment, the brain goes, but before that, she wants....no needs help to adjust. So you need to do more!"

She took a deliberate breath, not because Violet actually ever showed any physical needs. Already she was perhaps twice as old as her teenage recruits, but she worked tirelessly, regularly seeing the end of both shifts. She strutted back and forth displaying her dominance as the only female on the rock capable of any real power. Violet wanted her milkmaids to linger, to hold themselves at her every breath, waiting for the next word as if they need to intake the thought.

This display wasn't because she was vain, egocentric or self-absorbed.

Violet was altruistic.

Living here, underneath the shelter of her strict, authoritarian rule provided the smallest sanctuary, a refuge from a life of slavery. Yes, it was another form of servitude. Yes, Violet could be every bit as demanding, as demeaning, and as much as a disciplinarian as the cruelest taskmaster topside. But though she never showed it, she took care of her maids, and they all knew it. Each female working under the tall, exotic woman of privilege swore a fealty to her.

"I know you've heard the rumors, that I'm only milk mistress because of my father. If you listen enough topside, you can hear vivid details about how my Daddy created the position to fuck me. I think each of you got here knowing on Epsilon 7, no man ever needs to give a girl a favor for a fuck. I own this position because of one fundamental idea those penis-headed men overlooked, a happy cow, makes happy milk...."

One girl started to applaud at this and stopped herself. Violet did not approve of grandstanding.

"You," She waved her hand at Gwendolyn. "Come with me... you've had enough training, it's time to get to work. The rest of you, go make me some milk."

The two women made their way down the desolate hallways. Other than a few propaganda posters glorifying obedience to the overseer, nothing decorated tightly crammed dormitories where the woman stayed. For the younger girl, following and failing to keep with the frenzied pace Violet's long legs made as she led, this was the furthest she'd ever been away from the energy hub of colony, nearly three kilometers distance from the selection room.

Violet's hand hit the contact on the door. And unlike the common entrances, the computer took a second to override its security features. The pasture remained secluded from the rest of the capsules. And immediately, Gwendolyn understood why the guards had taken such care to censor the sight from any women.

On another planet, the long, rectangular capsule might have looked like a futuristic barn. Two bars ran parallel on either side of the room, leaving a narrow walkway for the caretakers to move back and forth between the opposing rows of animals.

It was best to think of the poor girls as that.

In between the bars each girls breasts were positioned, allowing the ample utters to dangle down where suction cups attached to each nipple. Through twin hoses, creamy milk followed at an almost constant rate. Each wrist was locked in place on the first bar, the hucows permanently placed in a prostrate position. Their bodies contorted and bent over with exactly enough space to fit two large, coldly medical phallic objects in each hole. Some of the girls had bits inside their mouths. Others were heard moaning and rutting, enjoying the mechanical devices pistoning themselves up and down inside of each anonymous hole in a methodical assault against their personhood.

"The bars and pistons are adjusted to different positions, to prevent soreness, stiffness or other muscle problems. Before I became the supervisor, such basic treatments were considered frivolous expenses. Now we have been awarded a 15 percent increase in our material consumption budget for the next quarter."

Violet stopped in front of a blonde girl, strapped over a bar, a bit placed into her mouth. Her face was a mess of tears, her body shaking violently as she tried to move against the bar, futility trying to press her giant mammaries through the plastisteel to break through the other side. Not that even such a Samson showing of strength could have resulted in anything other than a swift and severe retaliation. Her full hips bucked away from the twin metallic phalluses semi-permanently inserted in each of her orifices.

"Take a look at this one," Violet said, stroking her blonde hair. "Look at how tense and agitated this producer is. She needs to be able to relax. Don't you want to relax Buttercup?"

The girl seemed to nod.

"It's okay, tender one, it's okay, I'm going to make it all better." She looked at the group. "Take note of my demeanor and language. It's important to establish a rapport. Use pet names, but keep your distance. It is important not to over-identify with these creatures, lest you become one."

She again stroked the girls hair, moving her hands down to the suction cups around the girls breasts. She removed them, letting her fingers explore the large, red areolas. She make an adjustment on the controller on her belt, and the girl raised up involuntarily, allowing Violet to gently suckle on her swelling tits.

"It's even better from the source, though it's an acquired taste for some. In this, the institute is remarkably strict. This is a do as I say not as I do instruction. Should you notice tenderness or discomfort in one of your subjects, apply a moist cloth or simply stroke the affected area gently."

Violent spent a few moment tenderly demonstrating before carefully attaching the suction cups back to the poor thing's bosom. Certainly she would be sucked dry within the next hour or so, but the bovine specimens were used up until the last drop poured out of exhausted nipples. For this reason, the interlapse between pleasure and pain was used to increase the viability of subject, keeping them primed and excited only contributed to the steady flow of milk.

"H13-75 has produced nearly 10 liters of milk this week, leading the next highest producer by 500 milliliters. Though she is little more than animal, even such sad creatures need to be motivated by simple, extrinsic motivation. Let's start with the carrot..."

She moved over to a dial attached to the wall above the twin pistons. Both pumped in and out of the girl at an regular interval, not quite moving out of her holes as she moaned through the hose in her mouth. As Violet moved behind the girl, her legs started shaking, her whole body reacting in its own, limited and restricted way in anticipation to the act.

"You want me to do this don't you?"

The girl nodded vigorously, the best she could as her entire body was restrained.

"As you know, everything is taking care of through three tubes. Nutrition, urination, defecation, even sedatives for sleep, all automated through this machine. Of course, waste is reused for our farms, but pleasure..."

Violet turned the knob slowly.

"Pleasure can also be used for our benefit. See this hucow does not know a thing except desire. A carnal, animalistic need to breed and reproduce. We won't let her of course... And we only let her cum now and then. Keeping her right on the edge is best... "

The woman started to move back against the devices inserted in her vagina and anus even harder. Her whole body bucked against the rail that held her suspended in the same servile position as the rest of the hucows. Her whimpers could be heard, muffled as they were through the hose.

"An simple adjustment to the calibration can make the difference between orgasm and denial. With a little bit of training, you can check her chart and know exactly the right speed, vibration, and rotation to give her a reward."

Another adjustment. The girl in front of Gwendolyn gave out a sharp cry of pain.

"This is too much for her," Violet said. "I might use this setting as a punishment. Right now it's only a reminder. She can cum... but I only because I let her.... Soon that control will be yours."

She adjusted the knob again and the moans became almost squeals of pleasure. Violent took a gloved hand and stroked up and down on the slaves exposed behind, tracing her fingers up device that moved inside the girl's anal cavity.

"There's a good girl. It's okay to enjoy it now you've earned it..."

The hucow was grunting and whining with pleasure, her whole body shaking, wanting to drive body further on the inserted objects. That they were only partially designed for her pleasure didn't seem to matter. She gave herself over to the lust of the fucking machine. Gwendolyn looked from the girl, her face a mess of sorrow and desire, to Violet, who stood smirking next to the dial, waiting for something.

Gwendolyn made her mistake. She looked into her eyes, pleading, begging for release. There was still some spark there, something still human...

"Let her cum..."

Violent shot her a glare.

"Please..." Gwendolyn said.

"The very act of arousal must be pleasurable. The teasing, the wanting, the neglect, that needs to be seen as an essential part of eternal ecstasy."

Violet make a cruel twist in the opposite direction, agitated at this second interruption of her lesson. The creature gave out a muted protested, only to flinch as a gloved hand crashed down painfully on her ass cheek.

"She just cost you this month's orgasm... maybe next time... if you keep producing..."

The girl made a muffled sound, pitiful in its sorrowful submission.

Gwendolyn was crushed. The woman's face looked as though she had been robbed, cheated out of the only compassionate moment of her life. Gwen couldn't bear to look her in the eyes at first, to see that hate... not for her mistress, but for the stupid bitch in front of her that despite being able to walk around freely, still didn't know her place.

God please just let her cum. Please! She needs it so bad.

Her headache returned.

"Maybe I have been too harsh..." Violet said, her face twisting into a scowl. "You've been such a good girl Buttercup. Let's turn this into a learning experience. Take the controls..."

Violet moved behind her, helping her student make an adjustment here and there. Gwendolyn could feel her large breasts brushing up against the back of her neck as she helped her touch the correct knob, turning it at just the right angle.

"See the figures, that indicates the vibration setting the subject needs... turn it it up just a little bit..."

The soft whirring sound increased.

It took less than the ten seconds. Then the whole mechanical apparatus started shaking as Buttercup threw her body against her restraints, her eyes rolling back into her head. Her whole body violently moved in the throes of an orgasm anticipated for months. Her mouth let out a loud bellow, not unlike a satisfied moo of approval. The whole scene lasted perhaps a minute, and Gwendolyn thought the woman would have collapsed had she not been suspended by the machines.

"Good girl, good girl," Violet said, stroking the blonde hair of the girl. "Remember don't fight, be a good girl and you can cum again soon."

Then she looked at Gwendolyn, ignoring the depleted creature in front of her.

"There is some risk after orgasm. Sometimes resistance renews in the refractory period."

And before she could stop herself, Gwendolyn found her mouth forming the question.

"How long does it take for their mental facilities to regress?"

Violet walked forwards, giving every indication that she again expected to be followed.

"That depends on your care. It's truly amazing how quickly a woman can adapt and become a complete servile milking machine if given the correct sex stimulation. Each subject is different, and the adjustments you make need to be deliberately designed and carefully calculated to maximum effect."

In the course of her lecture, Violet led Gwendolyn to the next woman. It took a second before the realization dawned on her. Here, even her large bosom would not have stood out as extraordinary. But her red hair, the brightest Gwendolyn had ever seen, made the girl impossible to ignore. Recognition also spread across Astra's face, causing her to buck and shake at her restraints, in a futile struggle against fate.

Her eyes seemed to bulge, to almost panic again despite seven rotations having past since her selection. Astra's face wore an expression of knowing terror, wordlessly pleading at Gwendolyn to do something for her, to save her from society itself. Intellectually, if such a process could be rationally considered, both girls would have known nothing could have been done. And yet seeing each other in such a surprising if not unexpected situation gave each the cause to wonder, to let thoughts of resistance ferment, even without the opportunity of escape.

"You already know H13-98, but we won't address her by name," Violet stated. "It interferes with the acclimation process. However, you can assign her any pet name you choose."

"Thank you mistress," Gwendolyn found the words straggling her throat.

"You should not think of me as pitiless-"

"I am sorry mistress-" She was scrambling, her words tripping over themselves. "I never said-"

"Of course you would never say. No one could ever say such a thing to me. Do you think I am unsympathetic? That I am sadistic for its own sake?"

"No, no I-"

"Stop..." Violet waved her down. "There will be a time for me to listen to you. After you have learned enough for me to consider your opinion. 18 cycles before it was supposed to be me here..." She stopped for a second, gently stroking that shiny red hair. "It wouldn't have been like this..." Violent gestured to the room. "Barbaric conditions, enormous waste, deprivations unthinkable today. Two years before my selection, I started volunteering in the old pastures. I gave those girls little pleasures, a soft voice, a playful stroke of their hair... or their pussy....I never thought that milk production would increase enough that even the overseer would notice. I never thought that the one pasture we still had, desperately running on girls broken and empty after a few years would turn into 13 pastures, with a hundred cows each."

As she spoke, Violet moved her hand down below Astra's belly button, still looking directly at her student while she moved her fingers delicately above the hard phallic hoses, keeping the new hucow suspended on her restraints while in constant sexual excitement.

"What did you think? At first, when you started?" Gwendolyn couldn't help herself.

Violet paused.

"I thought one day when I was suspended in the air by two tubes, my nipples chapped and sore from years of producing milk, that more than anything, I would want someone there. A woman to hold me, to stroke my hair, and stimulate my clitorous until I came hard enough to forget everything for just a second..."

And as she stared at Gwendolyn, something stirred behind that big, blue eyes, some kind of steely resolve that refused to let the sadness bend or break her. Violet straightened, towering over her assistant as she touched her arm.

"In the end, I saved myself, " Violet said slowly. "I saved you. But only for a little while. Only while we produce."

Gwendolyn nodded, her eyes glistening. Something about her quiet strength made Gwendolyn want to weep for her instructor. Unspoken and unacknowledged was her mistresses impossible age, just over forty cycles. Enough time to have seen several generations of hucows. Long enough to make her the oldest woman on Epsilon 7.

By far...

Gwendolyn understood through a single look, that Violet must have seen so many selected and spun out, as hucows, as breeders, all the while wondering how many days she still had as a woman. She knew that the coldness, the sharp bite, the thorough tongue almost designed for lashing, wasn't there by default. Over the years, her mistress had become another product of Epsilon 7, an accomplice in creating the conditions she so abhorred.

And then her role resumed, those eyes no longer betraying anything, however subtle. Had she been cynical, Gwendolyn might have wondered if this display of humanity had been artificial, a creation to engender loyalty. But to what end?

"This is the most difficult part for her," Violet said. "When she will need you the most. We start her submission with heavy doses of drugs. It weakens her resolve and aids in her adjustment in what can be a very painful process at first. But continuing with those levels of chemicals indefinitely taints the milk. Ultimately prolonged desire breaks the mind. But at first, you must be generous with the stimulation of her genitals. Let her know that good behavior earns your attention."

"What should I do first?"

"Start with something small. Stroke her hair. Rub a hand across her rump. Let her body signal to you if she needs more. At first, many hucows are resistant to any sexual touches. But given time, the hormones eventually take over."

Gwendolyn moved her hand timidly, deftly touching the shoulders of the poor girl. Astra seemed to shrug away, her skin shaking, her whole body clammy, sweaty, cold to the touch.

"It's an effect of the drugs..." Violet said. "Start with a name..."

"A..."

"Not HER name. Something sweet, something innocent, something-"

"Annabelle," Gwendolyn said decisively.

"A classic," Violet purred. "Now make her orgasm."

"But..." She couldn't believe that command. "But you said, you said she wouldn't want to?"

"That's why I said make her..." Violet said.

Gwendolyn looked up at her mistress, unsure of what to say, of what to do. There seemed no question to do anything other than obey, and yet there was a natural reluctance at joining the ranks of rapists who so sullied the colony. Her eyes communicated this paralysis.

"Don't worry," Violet said. "All milk maids are selected for their empathy. I'd be concerned if you came to a decision so quickly. If it helps... you can tell yourself I made you. Or..."

She paused.

"Or you might bear the hard truth, no matter how terrible. No doubt you have stumbled onto those forbidden tales stored digitally, the ones involving romance and marriage. They aren't well hidden or honestly constructed. Intellectually, consent seems so clear cut. Two people only doing what they want to do, with who they want to do it with. Such fantasy. To think that the first man who saw the first woman would have asked before taking her. And that she, despite resisting at first, would not have ultimately submitted to her most basic biological function..."

She took a breath.

"Consent is a construct. A sliding scale, yes one abused by those with power, but beneath it lies cruelty across the epoch of evolution. The woman who learned to endure, entice, and even enjoy rather than resist to the end, survived and shared herself with the next generation. Man has bred us demur and docile. Inside each of us is a switch that if pulled and prodded just right can make the unimaginably horrible erotic."

She moved her hand to hold her sex.

"Right here, there is no intellectual discussion. Sex for the survival of the space-age species. And if consent can help my species survive, it is only by becoming more malleable."

Her hands touched Gwendolyn's, moving them to rest just where the small tuft of hair clung above her glistening pussy. The younger girl reached out a timid finger, unsure what would feel good, unsure of what she was willing to bring herself to do. In this, Violet made things easier, moving her hand with her student's, making the motion for her as she stimulated Astra/Annabell's clit.