Whorestein's Hucow Dairy Farm Pt. 01

279-A locked eyes with Gemma. Her moans were getting louder. Gemma felt like her head was swimming, the heat and the humidity and the lingering taste of milk on her lips was making it harder and harder to concentrate.

"It's amazing really, how easy it is to turn a woman into a productive heifer with just a few simple steps."

279-A held Gemma's gaze even as her thrusts grew more urgent, the wet slap of her wide, round ass against the rear wall of her stall muted by the heavy air, her hips rolling every time she forced her body back.

"It seems to come so naturally to them - we've had hucows come to us from all kinds of backgrounds, parts of the world..."

279-A wasn't moaning now - it would be impossible to describe the sound she was making as anything other than a desperate, longing 'moo'.

Gemma's knuckles were white as she gripped the metal of the gate.

"I...I need..." she gasped through her mask.

"Don't worry - you'd be astonished at just how well we understand your needs Miss Jacobs."

Of all the things that might have shaken her from her reverie, perhaps it was just chance that hearing Mr Sterne use her maiden name that had done it. Whatever the reason she turned her head to look at him, struggling to contort her face into a judgemental frown.

"I'm Mrs...Michaels..." she panted.

Even as sweat poured down Gemma's face, saturating her expensive designer suit, Mr Sterne showed only the faintest beads of perspiration on his forehead.

"Well, not any more, I'm afraid."

Gemma's gaze suddenly flicked back to 279-A as the hucow gave a loud, animalistic moo of lust and desire and shameless indulgence as she finally achieved her climax, her body spasming around the obliging, inanimate tool fastened to the rear of her cell.

As 279-A's mind went blank in the throes of orgasmic ecstasy, Gemma barely had time to turn her head back toward Mr Sterne before her mind too faded into unconsciousness, her knees finally buckling and her grip on the gate giving way as she collapsed to the floor.

Mr Sterne regarded her with a bemused expression on his face, watching the cow-print mask move back and forth as Gemma took short, shallow breaths. He only looked away when the sound of stiletto heels echoing on the concrete floor caught his attention and he looked up to see Kaitlynn, another busty, blonde haired young member of staff approaching through the humid air.

She carried a tray, bearing a single tall glass of milk, condensation beading on its surface and ice cubes tinkling faintly as she moved. She regarded the prone form of Gemma with a look of mild sympathy before turning her eyes to Mr Sterne.

"Oh, I'm so sorry sir. I should have arrived earlier."

"No, no you're right on time Kaitlynn. I wasn't quite certain how long our guest would last so I thought it best to ensure she had access to refreshments at every stage of our little tour."

Kaitlynn nodded obligingly and took another look at Gemma.

"Should I let the technicians know that we need to prepare another stall? And the pharmaceutical team?"

"If you could, please. They've already been briefed though - if you could just inform them that Mrs Michaels is ready to be processed, they'll be able to take care of everything else."

Kaitlynn nodded, flashing a flawless, pearly white smile.

"Of course - right away sir. Should I dispose of this?" She nodded towards the glass of ice cold milk on the tray.

"Oh no - senseless to let any of our product go to waste. I'm sure you wouldn't want to do that, would you?"

For a moment Kaitlynn's expression froze, her eyes flicking between the sweating glass and Mr Sterne.

Finally the man let out a laugh.

"Don't be so concerned, I only meant that any one of our heifers would quite happily drink this down in a heartbeat. I'm not expecting you to drink it down yourself."

Kaitlynn let out the breath she didn't realise she'd been holding.

"I'm sorry Mr Sterne. I didn't mean to be rude."

"No trouble at all, my dear. Now why don't you head back upstairs and let the technicians know that they're needed here."

Mr Sterne took the glass from the tray, leaving Kaitlynn free to make a hasty retreat through the steamy air.

Taking the glass in hand, Mr Sterne rapped his knuckles on the iron gate, rousing the attention of 279-A. He shook the glass gently, the ice cubes tinkling.

The hucow crawled forward, looking up balefully at Mr Sterne, and opening her mouth, tongue lolling out.

"Good girl" he whispered, pouring the chilled creamy liquid out while the hucow struggled to catch as much as she could in her mouth, the remainder that she missed running down her chin.

"You're a pretty one, aren't you - and such a needy little thing. Knowing how to work your hips the way you do, I think there's a good chance you could be flavour of the month when we make you available."

279-A wasn't listening - she was too busy savouring the sweet taste and temperature of a rarely acquired treat.

Mr Sterne made his way out of the hot humid room, the soles of his shoes echoing as he passed by dozens of stalls, each one occupied by a hucow. Some sleeping, some lapping up water from their bowl, some enthusiastically fucking the dildo affixed to the rear of their stall.

A few minutes later the technicians arrived to collect Gemma, lifting her limp body, and took her down to the primary processing unit of Whorestein's Hucow Dairy.

*******

Gemma's sleep wasn't peaceful. In her nonsensical, fevered dreams she found herself facing swirling images of Geoffrey and herself in a bizarre parody of their wedding day, her kneeling before him and affixing a jeweled golden collar around her neck, promising to control and use her. When she turned her eyes to the attendees she saw only panting, glassy eyed hucows, watching them both.

She tried to struggle but her limbs were leaden, her voice coming out as nothing more than a moan when she tried to protest. Looking up at the priest, he had the face of Mr Sterne, smiling down at her beatifically as she tried to form words.

When she finally came round, it took her a moment to realise she was conscious once again. The surreal nature of her dreams seemed to be replicated in her surroundings. She still felt incredibly weak, struggling to move her arms or legs. Likewise, when she tried to speak her voice was muffled and obscured.

As the fog of sleep drifted away she became more aware of her surroundings, but it offered little comfort.

She quickly realised why moving her arms and legs seemed so difficult - her limbs were restrained, cuffs around her wrists and ankles securing her in place. She was on her knees and when she turned her head she could see that she was bent over a metal frame. Looking down she could see that her suit had been removed and she was clad in nothing but her underwear.

At that revelation she tried to cry out, but her voice was once again muffled. It was only then that she became fully away of the intruder in her mouth.

She almost crossed her eyes trying to see what it was but she couldn't get a clear view of it. What she did know was that it tasted of rubber and held her jaw open at an uncomfortable angle. Her mouth was dry and she was dimly away of a thin stream of drool dripping down her chin.

The room she was in wasn't large, and it was featureless aside from the frame she was secured to. A windowless door was in front of her, painted in the same clinical white shade as the walls.

Her mind was still fuzzy but she was cognizant enough to know that whatever was happening, it was absolutely not what she'd had in mind when she agreed to discuss a potential investment.

Her struggles against the restraints were pointless, of course, as were her muffled protests, but she persisted in both until her body tired. She felt like her energy had been sapped and she only able to maintain her efforts for a few minutes before she was left panting for breath and sniffling in defeat.

With nothing left to do she had no choice but to wait but mercifully, or perhaps not, she wasn't left waiting for long.

She looked up as the door swung open. A woman, tall, slim and clad in a white lab coat and surgical mask entered, crouching down in front of Gemma and regarding her critically through her glasses.

Gemma flailed in her restraints again at the sight of the visitor, croaking through her gag. The woman seemed oblivious to her objections, simply removing a small pen light from her pocket and shining it into Gemma's eyes.

She nodded slightly, seemingly satisfied with the reaction of Gemma's pupils before turning her attention to the squirming trophy wife's ears, examining them carefully with her pen light.

Gemma's protests were changing in tone by now - transitioning from outraged squeals to plaintive moans.

The visitor crouched directly in front of Gemma again but didn't meet her gaze - instead she removed a pair of medical shears from a pocket and unceremoniously snipped through Gemma's bra, her modest, perky tits left exposed.

This was enough to elicit another squeal of protest from Gemma, which yet again went ignored. Instead, the visitor simply busied herself squeezing and palpating Gemma's tits, frowning slightly as she manipulated them in her hands.

Gemma was no stranger to a little foreplay - even Geoffrey, ever the selfless lover, had even found time to spend a few moments groping her before focusing on himself - but this was like nothing she'd ever experienced at the hands of a romantic partner. The woman in the lab coat was treating her like a laboratory specimen at best, or a piece of meat at worst.

When she moved onto Gemma's nipples, pinching and twisting with that same impassive expression Gemma couldn't suppress a high pitched shriek.

The woman in the lab coat remained unmoved, merely taking a moment to scribble a few notes on a small paper pad before standing up and moving behind Gemma.

Gemma tried to turn her head, but quickly discovered that her restraints included a collar, one which severely limited the degree to which she could move her neck. She was left oblivious to precisely what the woman was engaged in, limited only to what she could feel, although this was enough to be aware of the cold steel of the medical shears sliding against her backside and snipping through her panties.

She couldn't help but gasp when she felt her nether regions exposed. She'd visited doctors in the past, of course, but she'd never had to endure any kind of medical exam where she had so little agency, so little control.

Gemma heard the smack of latex against skin and, a moment later, felt gloved hands caressing her buttocks, squeezing and pinching with no more gentleness than she'd experienced when her tits were being examined.

Part of her expected it at this point in the invasive, impersonal examination, but she still couldn't help but whimper when she felt the gloved hand reaching between her thighs. She tried to squirm, to no avail, as gloved fingers parted the lips of her pussy, exposing her clit before probing into her cunt, curling and twisting, an unwelcome invasive presence.

Mercifully, the lab-coated woman seemed keen to get her job done as quickly as possible, extracting her fingers after a few brief, uncomfortable moments.

Gemma was not prepared, however, for the next stage of her apparent 'examination'.

She heard the sound of a bottle being uncapped and the squelch of liquid being squeezed out.

She screwed her eyes shut when she felt fingers, now slick with some kind of lubricant, forcing apart the cheeks of her pert, gym-honed ass.

The visitor went a little slower here, though whether that was an improvement Gemma wasn't sure. She cringed when the probing finger pressed against her tight, virgin hole. She had never allowed any lover, not even her husband to experiment there. She'd considered it as an incentive to persuade Geoffrey to pop the question, but it had proved unnecessary, and she'd prided herself on not having to endure such an indignity to land herself an extremely eligible husband.

But now here she was, restrained and gagged, squirming helplessly as a women she had never met before, whose name she didn't know, slowly and deliberately pushed her greased, gloved finger into her protesting asshole.

Gemma blushed, despite herself, at the sound she made when her clenched hole finally relented and the woman's greased finger slid inside.

Her breaths were short and shallow around the gag as the probing finger worked its way back and forth.

It was humiliating, violating, disgusting.

But, though she'd struggle to admit it even to herself, a needy, urgent warmth was building in her loins as she felt that exceptionally sensitive spot being stimulated.

She gasped, sending a fresh stream of drool dribbling down her chin when the finger was removed.

Panting, Gemma looked up as the woman strode in front of her again.

"Hmm, tighter than I'd expect for a gold-digging tart like you." she said, seemingly to herself.

"But still, nothing that we need to be concerned about."

The woman reached into her pocket again, extracting a hypodermic needle and a phial of clear liquid. She filled the syringe, crouched down and plunged it into Gemma's thigh.

"There, this should get you started. Mr Sterne seems to have taken a particular interest in you so we'll make sure to be nice and thorough."

Gemma didn't have the energy to protest any more. She simply watched helplessly as the woman strode away, the door clanging shut behind her.

It was only a few seconds later that she felt her eyelids growing heavy again and the darkness of sleep closing in.

***********

Hunter Sterne's expression was impassive as he gazed through the one way mirror. On the other side, a dozen women were held, sedated and immobile, hooked up to a complex system of monitoring equipment and drug delivery systems, their bodies being altered to suit the whims of the humilk industry and the desires of their captors.

But, despite his apparent indifference, his attention was focused solely on one of them in particular - a blonde, once modestly proportioned, whose slim, sculpted frame was already well into the process of transitioning to the standard set by Whoresteins.

He turned at the sound of footsteps as he was approached by a tall, slim woman in a white lab coat.

"Dr Miller - you have the latest figures?"

Dr Miller nodded, handing him a clipboard.

"Here you are, Mr Sterne. It was a little challenging, Mr Michael's had some requests which deviated notably from our usual procedures. In particular, maintaining the subject's self awareness was quite tricky."

Hunter Sterne smiled. "I have complete faith in your abilities,doctor - and the client did compensate us remarkably well to indulge such a singular request. With the investment we're due to receive from the Michael's we can finance a whole new research facility. I think it's only proper that you lead the team there."

Dr Miller couldn't contain the grin that spread across her face.

"Oh, that would be incredible Mr Sterne. I've been working on a number of project proposals and I could have them on your desk first thing Monday..."

Mr Sterne cut her off. "No rush, Dr Miller, we;ll have plenty of time. But I'm certainly very eager to hear your ideas. After all, the decision to open the facility in China was ultimately made based on your advice. I was skeptical - the amount we had to pay out in bribes seemed like an outrageous expense - but you were absolutely right. Productivity there has been astounding, and the demand for our product in the local market seems limitless."

He turned his gaze back to the glass.

"We're already making arrangements for some of the more junior members of the People's Party to sample some of the producers. Of course, the senior leadership still insist on time with American heifers, but for those with less to spend the chance to breed an asian hucow is still very tempting. The new Chinese middle class is an important market, one we can't afford to ignore."

Beyond the glass a technician in a cleansuit entered the chamber, making their way down the row of sedated hucows, tapping IV bags and checking the readouts from various screens.

One of the restrained women squirmed gently when the technician reached over to squeeze her udders. That was the only proper term for what had once been her tits - swollen from what had once merely been an impressive rack to twin globes that jutted up obscenely from her chest, faint blue veins visible beneath the soft, milky white skin. She was perhaps halfway through her processing. At this point, it was plausible that some specialist retailers would offer bras that, with some effort she could squeeze into - still far too small to be productive. In a week or so, she would be ready.

Hunter Sterne's eyes settled on Gemma again.

"How much longer?" He didn't need to specify. Dr Miller knew which subject he was asking about.

"10 days, give or take. She's responding well to the treatments. And you'll see in my report - her milk is already coming in."

Hunter Sterne smiled.

"Excellent. Thank you Dr Miller. If you could please forward the latest report on to Mr Michaels."

"Of course sir. And the pictures?"

"Oh yes, absolutely. He was very insistent on that."

Dr Miller nodded, then turned on her heel and strode away, leaving Mr Sterne to his own private thoughts as he watched the latest into of hucows undergoing their journey to become productive, docile heifers.

******

Gemma hadn't dreamed this time. The cocktail of drugs, hormones and retroviral therapies they'd had her on had left her dead to the world, her mind nothing but a blank.

Perhaps that was why it took her so long to come back round. Or perhaps some part of her simply wanted to cling onto the mercy that unconsciousness offered.

It was warm - that was the first sensation that came back to her, the sensation of air against her skin. It was as if she was more sensitive to it, more aware of even the faintest disturbance in the atmosphere around her.

Next came her sense of smell - a familiar, clean scent that she associated with all things clinical - hospitals, doctors surgeries, the smell of modern medicine.

Then sound - footsteps, muffled conversation, the ambient sound of people going about their work. That jerked her mind a little - she certainly wasn't used to waking up in someone else's workplace.

Finally, she opened her eyes.

The room in front of her was spotlessly clean, well lit and sheer white from floor to ceiling. A figure strode past her dressed in black scrubs with a surgical mask over their face, a clipboard in hand.

Gemma struggled to lift her head and looked straight ahead.

Opposite her was a woman reclined in a leather chair. Restraints bound her wrists and ankles, but aside from that she was stark naked, her legs spread apart exposing her nethers.

But her proportions were by far the most shocking thing about her. To describe her as curvaceous would be akin to saying that the sun was warm - her thick thighs extended up to a set of absurdly wide hips, topped in turn by a narrow waist. Her obscene tits rested on her chest, two huge globes almost obscuring her navel, crowned with thick, fat nipples, her areolas wide and dark.

Gemma tried to crane her neck forward to get a better look at the woman opposite her, and the absurdly proportioned woman did the same.

Gemma opened her mouth to try to speak and the woman opposite her did likewise.

A niggling thought at the back of her mind finally found its way to the forefront.

It was a mirror. Gemma was gazing at her own reflection.

The best she could muster was a guttural, animalistic groan.