Any comments will be gladly received at white_collar@hotmail.com
Note: Any resemblance to real people is strictly coincidental. No real people are depicted in this piece of fiction. This story contains explicit male to male sex, domination and bondage. If you don't enjoy reading this sort of material or are under the age of 21, DO NOT CONTINUE READING. If you regard this type of material as depraved then flee from here and don't look back! And be sure that you practice safer sex. Don't become another statistic in the rising HIV/STD rates. Don't be barebacking: it's your LIFE you're playing with. This story is STRICTLY fantasy and I DO NOT espouse or endorse unprotected anal or oral sex!
Note to my fans: I will still be producing more installments of "Converted to cock-sucker": This story got into my head and I needed to get it out! The apparatus for milking I took from fffrankk on Xtube. If you like it, go to Xtube and check out his videos. I hope you enjoy the story. Stay tuned.
Final note: The toll-free number given in the story is one I made up. So far as I can tell, it is not a legitimate number, so don't bother dialing it.
Dairy man - Chapter 1
I am a dairy man. I suppose that might lead you to think that I manage a dairy farm, and herd dairy cattle, but, in fact, I am part of the herd. And I need to tell you this as a warning before I completely lose my ability to communicate as a human being. That ability is rapidly disappearing. So let me tell you my story and always remember: caveat emptor.
I'm in my mid-30s, 36 to be exact. I'm 6'1", well-muscled, weighing in at about 190, though I don't do the gym thing; this is just how I developed and I've maintained my physique through running and a little lifting at home, just to keep the muscles in shape. I have, or had, a nice coating of brown fur on my pecs with a treasure trail running down to my dark and curlies. Now, of course, that's all gone and the doctor tells me it will never come back, just as my mind, once it's completely gone, will never come back. God, I was pretty happy; how did I get into this mess? Why was I so stupid?
So it started like this: as I said, I'm in my mid-30s and was fairly comfortable, financially, psychologically, sexually. I'd always liked women and, with a nice 8" hard cock, had no trouble satisfying my partners, although my cock was more on the thin side of the spectrum. But more than one woman had remarked on the scantiness of my load. One even remarked she wouldn't call it a load; more of a sample. So I'd developed a bit of sensitivity about my output.
Anyway, I was checking my e-mails and, amidst the usual spam, I saw one addressed to me, specifically from a doctor. The subject caught my eye because it wasn't the usual "Bigger and harder" crap. This spoke directly to my concerns. The subject was "Science-based enhancement for semen production".
"Concerned about the volume of your output? Would you like to produce more? The average ejaculation is about 1 tsp. but I can help you get more, even if you're not producing even that much. Many men believe they're unusual in that they produce small amounts of ejaculate, but it's rather common. Are you concerned about infertility? I can help you with that. Scientifically formulated ejaculate enhancing elixir that will increase your ejaculate, sperm count and, as an added benefit, will increase the girth of your penis. Women will be satisfied all-around and you'll be a happier, more satisfied and satisfying lover. Call: 1-888-EJACULATE (888-352-2828"
This sounded promising. It certainly sounded more genuine that the usual crap about miracle male enhancers. I thought about it. What the hell? What's to lose? It's a toll-free call; if it sounds bogus, I'll just hang up and go back to my slightly bruised sense of my sexual prowess. I dialed.
"Good morning. Male fertility clinic. How may I help you?"
The man who answered the phone sounded efficient and business-like. His masculine voice gave me a sense of comfort somehow.
"Um, good morning. I saw your email and I'm calling to ask about your treatment."
"Yes, good morning. I'm glad you called. Is this Bradley?"
"Well, Brad. Yes, I'm Bradley, but I prefer Brad."
How did he know my name? Of course: caller ID.
"Great Bradley. I'm so glad you called. How can I help you out?"
"And you are?"
"Oh yes, sorry; of course, you wouldn't know my name. I'm Dr. Milchmann. I run the male fertility clinic. So, how can I help you today Bradley?"
Why did he keep calling me Bradley? No one had called me that since I was a boy and it always made me feel like a boy when someone called me that. I suppose that's what was showing on his display and it was simpler for him to read the name. But what difference did it make? Oh well; if he could help me, I didn't care what he called me.
"Well, doctor, it's kind of embarrassing?"
"Of course; I completely understand. Everything will be fine Bradley. I'll tell you what; why don't you come see me today. How does that sound? Then we can go over your questions, run a couple of tests and I can prescribe the right treatment for you. Sound good Bradley? It does sound good, doesn't it Bradley?"
His deep voice was certainly reassuring; seductive, even. I said yes, I could clear room in my schedule. We made an appointment for 3:30 and ended the call.
I left the office about 3:00 and took a train across town, arriving at Dr. Milchmann's office around 3:25. I took the elevator to his floor and found his office. There was no one in reception, so I knocked on the door leading from reception into the back.
"Come on in Bradley. Third door on the right." Dr. Milchmann called from the back.
I went through the door and down the hall. There was this continuous sound that distracted me slightly, a sound of electric motors running and these low vocalizations, like men moaning quietly. But I was really focused on a solution to my problem, so I entered the doctor's office through the open door. Dr. Milchmann rose from behind his desk to greet me. He was a handsome man, probably in his 40s with a full head of dark brown hair with flecks of grey. He stood a little taller than me, and appeared trim under his white lab coat. He gripped my hand strongly and I looked into his dark green eyes. I couldn't take my eyes off of his; there was something in them that held my brain in their thrall. How long did he hold me in his gaze? Five seconds? Ten? Fifteen? I lost track of time. Then he released my hand and grinned at me, motioning me to sit.
"Good. So tell me what's troubling you Bradley?"
"Please, doctor, call me Brad. Everyone does."
"I'm sure they do Bradley, but I'm not everyone, am I?"
"N-no, I-I suppose not." I felt a little intimidated under his gaze and I was having a little trouble being articulate.
"Right. I prefer to keep the nature of our relationship? how shall I put it? unique; special. I don't want our relationship to be cheapened through familiarity. So I will call you Bradley and you will call me 'doctor'. Sound good Bradley?"
"Yes sir, doctor," I answered, not at all sure why I had added the "sir".
"Good. So tell me what the problem is Bradley."
"Well doctor, I'm not sure where to start,"
"That's all right. I understand. Just relax and start where you feel comfortable."
"I guess the thing is, that, well, the thing is, you see? My loads are rather small," I finally blurted out.
"Your loads are rather small? You mean your semen production is substandard."
"Yes sir. That's what I mean."
"Then can you say that for me Bradley? Can you state your problem clearly? And don't forget Bradley: I'm 'doctor' to you."
I blushed, feeling like I was back in high-school, being examined by one of my teachers. "Bradley" indeed! In fact, a particular teacher, Mr. Kilgore, had always given me a rough time of it in class.
"Bradley," he'd say loudly "When, in heaven's name, are you going to learn to solve an equation? What do I have to do to teach you this material?"
I had him for algebra and that was one of the reasons I'd ended up in advertising: he always made me feel powerless and small, even though, but that time, I was taller than he was.
"My semen?" I whispered, returning to Dr. Milchmann's question.
"Explain it fully Bradley. Give me a complete sentence and address me as 'doctor'."
"Sorry sir, I'm so sorry sir. Doctor, my semen production is substandard? And my cock could be thicker, sir." I don't know why I threw in that last big about my cock, but the way Dr. Milchmann's eyes held mine made me want to be completely open with him, holding nothing back.
"Good for you Bradley. That wasn't so hard was it? So, your semen production is substandard and you would like an increased girth of your penis. Is that right, Bradley? And understand, Bradley, that it's better to use medical terms, rather than vulgar slang. That makes sense doesn't it Bradley? After all, this is a medical issue, right?"
"Yes sir, doctor."
"Good. You feel better already don't you? It helps to state things clearly doesn't it, Bradley?"
"Yes sir, doctor. It helps to state things clearly."
Dr. Milchmann had a way of speaking, that I can't put my finger on, but it was something about the rhythm and the pitch and the way he stated things that got me into wanting to please him and pulled me into his way of speaking. I was beginning to respond to him in ways that were quite unlike my usual style. I would never have answered someone else's questions the way that Dr. Milchmann expected me to answer him.
"So state it clearly for me Bradley. Don't make me ask again," he said smiling.
"Doctor, m-my semen production is substandard, and, and, I-I want to increase the girth of my penis.
"Good man Bradley, excellent. All right, now that I understand the presenting problem, let's go into the exam room and do a proper assessment. Come with me, my boy."
Dr. Milchmann rose and moved toward the door. I followed him and, placing his arm around my shoulder, he guided me into one of the exam rooms. I scarcely noticed that he had called me 'boy'; it simply felt comfortable and comforting. I'd known before arriving here that this was going to be somewhat embarrassing, but the doctor was doing a great job of comforting and reassuring me. And the quiet electrical humming and moans somehow felt comforting as well.
"OK, Bradley, you can remove your clothes and place them on the stool there. Then get up on the exam table," Dr. Milchmann instructed me.
I did as he told me, taking off my suit jacket and hanging it on the coat hook, removing my shoes and socks, taking off my pants and shirt.
"Everything, please Bradley" doctor said, glancing up from his papers.
I flushed, but did as the doctor told me, removing my undershirt and pants and jumped up onto the table.
"Good boy, Bradley. I appreciate your ability to follow directions," doctor said, patting my knee.
"Thank you doctor," I said, smiling and looking into his green eyes.
"Now, let's get started with your exam."
Dairy man - Chapter 2. The exam.
Dr. Milchman took his stethoscope from the pocket of his lab coat and put it in his ears. He listened to my heart and lungs, ordering me to be quiet, or to breathe at the appropriate times. He poked and tapped, hmming as doctors do, feeling the muscles of my neck, arms, and back. Then he had me lay back and palpated my abdomen. He examined my nipples too, circling the areolas with his finger tips and flicking my smallish points with this nails. I caught my breath; I've always had rather sensitive nipples. He smiled and nodded. Then he had me stand on the shelf of the table, fingering my testicles and coughing on command. He carefully lifted my cock, er, my penis, with two fingers, looking at the underside. He held the head between his fingers and examined the slit.
"Good man; looks fine," he said and ordered me to turn around, bend over and grab my ass cheeks.
The snapping of latex gloves and the splat sound of lubricant being squeezed from a tube.
"This may be a little uncomfortable," he said, placing one hand on my back.
His lubed, gloved finger went into my ass and he felt around, poking me as he examined my prostate. When his finger touched my prostate, my cock , which had been getting more and more firm as the exam progressed, sprang to full attention and I noticed that, as he massaged my gland, a drop of pre-cum oozed from the tip of my penis and fell on the table. I flushed, I'm sure, from head to toe.
"Unnngh. Uh, doctor, sir, I seem to be?"
"No need to be embarrassed Bradley; it happens frequently with these exams. A man's penis usually responds this way to prostate massage. Now climb down and lick up your secretion."
Feeling somewhat self-conscious about my erection and somewhat degraded by the idea of licking up my own 'secretion', I nevertheless followed doctor's orders. The taste wasn't at all what I expected: it was mildly salty and the texture was sort of like honey. I thought that I could get to like this stuff. I put in the back of my mind that the next time I was having sex, I'd try tasting it again, even though it struck me as being a little faggy.
"OK, Bradley, back up on the step. Everything looks good, physically," he stated. "Now let's check you volume."
Doctor pulled out a small plastic cup with marks on the side.
"Straight or gay?" he asked.
"Excuse me?" I asked, somewhat confused?
"Straight or gay? What kind of porn do you want? I do need a semen sample? Most men find it easier with a little bit of help," he said, smiling at me, his green eyes sparkling.
"Oh? Oh! I understand. Um, uh, straight I guess? sir."
"You can't mean you don't know," Dr. Milchmann laughed. "I mean, most men your age are pretty sure whether they're gay or straight."
"Of course sir, I just wasn't expecting that. I mean, I guess I didn't know what to expect."
"Of course boy. Don't' worry. It's OK."
Dr. Milchmann moved close to me and was stroking my hair.
"Don't worry. You'll be OK. Everything is fine. Just listen to me and relax. Everything's OK."
He continued stroking my hair. Then his hand moved to my shoulder.
"Everything will be OK. It's OK. Just relax. Relax. Listen to my voice and relax. You can trust me. Just trust me boy."
And I did. I couldn't help myself. I wanted to trust him. I wanted to relax. It was easy.
"Are you relaxed boy?"
"Yes sir," I said dreamily. "I'm relaxed."
"You can do what I ask now, can't you? Then I can help you. Right boy?"
"Yes sir, doctor. You can help me."
"You have a problem with your loads, don't you boy?"
"Yes sir, I have a problem with my loads."
"You want bigger loads, don't you boy?"
"Yes sir, I want a bigger loads?"
"And I can give you that can't I boy?"
"Yes sir, you can give me that."
"I can give you a bigger load. Say it boy."
"You can give me a bigger load."
"All you have to do is obey me."
"All I have to do is obey you sir."
"I can increase your semen production, can't I boy?"
"Yes sir, you can increase my semen production."
"I can increase the girth of your penis, can't I boy. Just say it."
"You can increase the girth of my penis, sir."
"All you have to do is obey me."
"All I have to do is obey you."
"Obey the doctor."
"Obey the doctor."
"Obey the doctor."
"Obey the doctor."
"Good boy. You want to obey me, don't you boy?"
"Yes sir, I want to obey you."
"Good boy. OK, turn around and climb up on the table on your hands and knees. Good boy. Just relax. Good? Now, here's some porn for you. Watch the video. Pay attention to the video. I want you to jack off into this cup so that I have a baseline of your volume. Look at the porn and start jacking off boy."
"Yes sir."
He placed the cup on the table under my penis and I began watching the porn being displayed on the laptop he had placed on one of those over-the-bed hospital tables. It showed men having sex with women and it made me hard. I started to jack off. Then, the images changed. I saw a man being fucked by a woman with a strap-on. As I watched I felt the doctor's finger entering my anus. As the man began to moan, doctor's finger pressed on my prostate and I moaned too. Oh, god, that felt good. Then the doctor began to squeeze my nipples while he fingered my prostate. I ground my hole against his finger, moaning loudly and felt myself getting closer. I also realized, in some part of my mind that was watching all this from far away, that I was crouching there on an exam, stark naked with a man's finger up my ass, masturbating and getting ready to shoot. But my sexual brain had gone straight to the pole running between my hole and my penis. All it was interested in was release. I felt the electrical current rising and rising until it went over the crest and I shot. I shouted in exultation and relief as cum discharged from my cock. When I finished, I collapsed onto the table.
When I'd recovered from my orgasm, Dr. Milchmann was holding up the cup.
"Three-quarters of a teaspoon. Not bad," he said, "But far from where it could be. Let me mix a prescription for you Bradley. We can have your output up to snuff within a month; you'll be a much happier camper."
"Thank you sir, I'd like that," I panted, my legs still a little weak.
Dr. Milchmann opened a drawer and took out several bottles from which he measured quantities of fluid. He added each into a bottle that he shook up, sealed and gave to me. Then he handed it to me along with a script, on which was written a URL.
"Take this home. Take a tablespoonful tonight and one tomorrow morning. After you take tonight's dose, enter the URL that's on the script and download the file onto your iPhone and listen to the file. That will get you started with your treatment. Do you understand Bradley, my boy?"
"Yes sir, doctor, I understand."
"Good boy Bradley. I think your treatment will begin to have positive effects very quickly. I'll see you soon."
"Yes sir. Thank you doctor."
Dairy man - Chapter 3 - the treatment.
As soon as I got home, I knew I wanted and needed my treatment. I didn't even bother to eat. I took off my clothes and poured my medicine into a soup spoon and swallowed it. It was sort of viscous and salty and sour. I felt heat flowing down my gullet, into my belly, and from there, into my groin. My balls felt like they were turning over in their sac and it seemed to me they were beginning to grow.
I keyed in the URL that Dr. Milchmann had written on the script and found a link to an MP3 file, which I downloaded and added to my music files on my iPhone. Grabbing my ear buds, I lay down on my bed and started the file. The sounds were strange, but enticing; there were whooshing sounds, overlaid with the sounds of men making low groaning noises, deep in their throats, almost like cattle clustered in a stockyard. And I heard, very low, the sound of a voice, calling to me. It was familiar and I thought it might be Dr. Milchmann's voice, urging me to release my fears and anxieties, and to come with him on a journey. In fact, I didn't need much urging: my brain said "yes", my body said "yes" and my penis said "YES: yes, doctor, I will go with you, wherever you take me." My penis stood straight up from my belly in an erection such as I hadn't experienced since I was a teenager. Pre-cum coated its stiff mast. I slid my finger up my penis, gathering the pre-cum and sucking on it, I began to dream or to imagine, I'm not sure which, a room full of erections.
I awoke with a start, my brain fogged with the confusion of waking from a dream that seemed real, but far away. I was shocked to find my finger still in my mouth and I quickly pulled it out. My only thought was to get to the doctor's office as quickly as I could: I needed him now!. Then I remembered my second dose of medicine. I found my prescription and swallowed the rest of the bottle. In seconds, my belly, groin and balls were churning and I felt my balls getting bigger and my already erect penis getting even harder.
I dressed hurriedly, tucking my erection into my jeans (could it be possible I was still erect? At my age?) and caught the train across town. When I arrived at the doctor's office, I suddenly realized it was Saturday. Would he even be there? Most doctors don't have office hours on weekends. Praying he was there, I pushed his office button.
"Yes?"
It was his by-now familiar, comforting voice.
"Dr. Milchmann, sir, it's Bradley, can I come up?"
"Of course Bradley. I was expecting you. Come right up"
I rode up and entered the doctor's office. The doctor was there to greet me.
"Come in Bradley. I'm glad you're so prompt. I trust you had good dreams?"
"Yes sir, doctor."
"Good. Go on through to the examination room and take off all your clothes. You can put them in the trash chute. You won't be needing them again. Right Bradley?"
"Yes sir, I mean, no sir. I won't be needing them again."
Why did I say that? How was I going to get home without any clothes? But that's what my doctor said, and I trusted and believed him, so he must be right.
I went into the exam room, removed my clothes and chucked them into the trash chute. Dr. Milchmann came in a couple of minutes later.
"Good boy Bradley. You've become very obedient already. That pleases me!"
I flushed with pride. I was happy he was pleased. Somehow that was important to me.
"Now, come with me Bradley. Let's go into the induction room. Good boy."
Dairy man - Chapter 4 - the installation.
Naked, I followed him down the hall. I wasn't the least bit concerned that I was walking down the hall completely starkers. What did it matter? Doctor said strip, I stripped. Doctor said walk; I walked. We passed several doors and the humming of the motor became louder, as did the moans. I also noticed a sort of sucking, whoosing sound, accompanied by a rhythmic clicking. We went through a door at the end of the hall. It opened onto a room that was larger than I would have expected. There were several cubicles on either side of the room. As doctor led me down the corridor, I saw low metal frames, each with a man strapped into it. Yesterday morning, I would probably have been alarmed and would have fled, but now, it seemed quite natural, although a part of my brain set off an alarm. "Get out," it said. "Get out before it's too late. If you don't get out, you'll be lost." But my erection made me follow the doctor.
Perhaps that alarm made me hesitate, because doctor grabbed my erection and pulled me forward.
"C'mon boy. It'll be all right. You'll be happy here and we'll have you producing at record volumes very soon. Let's go," Dr. Milchmann said.
"Yes sir," I answered, following my hungry erection.
Dr. Milchmann led me to a cubicle that contained a cabinet, a machine that looked like some sort of pump, and a frame atop a platform. The platform was about waist height and the frame was very simple: a sturdy, rectangular cuboid frame of metal with eye-hook on the bottom corners and a thick brace at the far end with a half-circle cut into the upper part. I was curious, but I knew that doctor would explain.
"Up on the platform, boy," doctor ordered, patting the surface.
I mounted the platform, kneeling on the edge, holding onto the frame for balance.
"Good boy. Stay right there for me. Make your doctor happy."
I held on and waited, as ordered. If I wanted anything, it was to make doctor happy; he was going to make me a man! I would no longer feel lacking. Dr. Milchmann wrapped leather manacles around my wrists and wide leather straps around my legs, just above the knee. Then, using carabiners, he fastened my leg straps to one end of the frame.
"Now, lean forward. Put your neck in the brace; hands by the legs of the frame."
I did as doctor ordered. I found that the frame was just the right size: my neck rested perfectly in the depression of the brace. Dr. Milchmann fastened my wrists to the frame and then picked up a thick piece that matched the brace. This he slid into slots in the uprights of the frame, creating a stock for my head. I was now completely immobilized. Suddenly, I felt a rising surge of panic! I couldn't move! I was trapped. I began to pull at the bonds holding me and jerk my neck against the stocks. Dr. Milchmann placed a hand on my head and stroked my hair.
"Easy, boy, easy. Take a deep breath. Calm down. It's all right, it's all right," he soothed.
I did as he said and relaxed.
"Look into my eyes Bradley," he said, bending so that I could raise my eyes to look into his.
"Yes sir, doctor."
"Just relax and trust me. I'm going to take good care of you. I'm your doctor and you're my boy. Repeat that boy."
"You're my doctor and I'm your boy, sir."
"Good boy. And you trust me, don't you boy?"
"Yes sir, I trust you."
"Tell me you trust me."
"I trust you sir."
"Good boy. And what am I going to do for you boy?"
"You're going to turn me into a milk cow sir, a man cow."
Where had that come from? I had no idea. Perhaps from my dreams? But the instant my lips said the words, I knew it was true. Doctor Milchmann was going to turn me into a milk cow. I was suddenly acutely aware of the sounds coming from all around me: the sounds of men moaning or mooing lowly as cattle will when they're in their stalls; the sounds of milking machines pumping. My penis surged and slapped against my belly in an erection unlike any I'd had since I was an adolescent.
"Yes boy. You will become one of my dairy men; my man cows, giving your milk to benefit other men like you. You want that, don't you boy? You want to help other men like you, don't you Bradley boy? You want other men to become like you? To be turned into man cows?"
"Yes sir, I want to help other men be turned into man cows."
"Good boy. Let's get started then. I'm going to explain what I'm doing as I process you and induct you into my herd. There's nothing to be worried about. Everything will be fine."
"Thank you doctor. Thank you for helping me."
"You're welcome boy. Believe me, it's my pleasure."
Doctor rubbed lotion on my nipples and pulled on them, causing me to breathe in sharply.
"Ooh, sir?"
"Yes, I know boy. The elixir has helped you some, although I'm aware from my initial examination that you have sensitive nipple. So this lotion has hyoluronic acid in it. That helps your skin to be more supple. There is also fenugreek extract, which will cause your glands to grow; specifically, the glands in your nipples that have the capacity to produce milk. Men, in general, don't produce milk, but with proper stimulation and the additional enhancers, you'll soon be producing milk from your nipples, or more accurately, cheese. It will be very think, but there's a market for male breast cheese. Some men love the flavor and the idea and will pay dearly for it, since it's so hard to get."
Doctor turned on the machine. I turned my head, bound in the stock and saw that he was holding two tubes with flared cups on the ends. He attached the cups to my nipples, which were immediately sucked in and began to expand.
"You'll be wearing these two hours a day at first. We don't want to over-pump you now, do we boy? That wouldn't be good. But, when you're not wearing these, I'll be putting silicone cups on your nipples that will, over time, permanently grow them till they're the size of the end of your finger and will produce man cheese at a prodigious rate. And sometimes, I'll use weighted clips to stretch your nipples and give you titties. You'll like that, won't you boy?"
I couldn't picture what he was describing, but I figured, if it made doctor happy, I'd be happy, though I was surprised to hear him use a vulgar word like titties. The idea of having titties embarrassed me. Was he also turning me into a fag? Nevertheless, I liked what he was telling me.
"Yes sir," I answered.
"Good boy. Now, for the next step?"
Doctor picked up a bottle and squirted some fluid into the palm of his hand. This, he rubbed on my stiff penis, stroking me as he oiled me up. Then he took a larger tube with a rubber gasket at the end and some sort of sheath inside. Like the cups on my nipples, it was attached to the machine with a hose. He slid the sheath over my penis and it began to pump me. I moaned a deep moan; this simply felt too good. It was like getting a blow job without the bottom gagging on you. I moaned, raised my head and my eyes must've rolled back in their sockets. I was in pure bliss.
The pumping of my penis absorbed almost all of my attention, the remnant going to my nipples. But then doctor, standing to my side, held my head in his hand, raising it up.
"Open," he ordered.
I opened my mouth and he slid a vinyl gag into it. He bucked the strap around the back of my head, fixing it in place, and I realized this was a cock gag, designed to train a submissive and to keep him from speaking. I continued to make moaning noises, but now there was no more speaking. Doctor released my head and I began to roll it around on my neck in ecstasy.
Doctor went to the back end of me and I felt his hands on my hole.
"I'm going to insert a prostate stimulator into your rectum, boy. It will help you to produce more semen. After all, that's the goal of this entire organization."
My sphincter was spread, fingers penetrated, renewing my moans. After a few minutes of them thrusting into and rotating around inside my anus, they were withdrawn, but quickly replaced by another object that spread my sphincters painfully until its widest part cleared the rings of muscle. The rings snapped around it and the pain faded, replaced by even greater pleasure, as the plug began to vibrate.
"Some days, I'll insert a butt machine to fuck your anus. That's just another way to increase your prostate output. Now, let's get your installation completed."
Doctor placed a pair of headphones over my head and I began to hear chatter, out of which I could recognize words here and there.
"noise, murmurs, noise milk, noise, noise, chatter, surrender, noise, noise whispers, submit, noise chatter, noise, slave."
It went on and on and I realized the words, which I strained to pick out of the chatter, were taking over my mind. Then, I clearly heard Dr. Milchmann.
"All right Bradley. You're now part of my herd. You'll stay here for a couple of days until your mind is pretty-well erased, replacing what you've known with only the ideas of obedience, slavery, and submission. You'll be like a dog, but with less volition. When I release you from the frame so that you can rest and be fed properly, I will remove the hair from your body. The chemicals you've ingested and will continue to ingest, will destroy your hair follicles so that you'll become permanently, completely smooth and bald. Your penis will grow, your testicles will grow and your nipples will grow, producing the product that I market to those who very willingly pay a great deal of money for it. So welcome my new man cow, my dairy man. Welcome to the rest of your life."
Thank you doctor, thank you sir.