The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter 4 — A New Foundation

“Hi Kylie. Do you hear me?”

“Hmmm...Yeah.”

“You’re still in the simulation right now, but don’t worry, it’s almost over.”

“Okay, Terri...”

“Whoa, your subconscious recognized me? Cause I’m pretty sure your conscious mind is busy cuddling against Alyssa right now.”

“Alyssa, hmm...mooo...”

“Anyway...I’m just back from bimbofying Christina. You’ve been transformed into who you are now as a way to change Alyssa. But you’re a whole other person. You’ve got no memories of your true life anymore, they’re stored away. Well, huh...Dammit, I don’t know where to start, and why am I explaining this to you anyway? Well, the current you will still be around, but otherwise, I have to get scary Kylie back.”

“S...Sc...no, not scary Kylie...”

“Don’t worry, cutie. Only your beloved Mistress can reach you...But you can reach scary Kylie. She won’t hurt you, and you’ll make her better. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“I...guess...”

“Well, time to make the preparations.”

* * *

Hmm...I don’t remember our bed being this comfy. Fancy, sure, but not fluffy like that.

“Nick?” I moan. “It’s day out, the alarm clock’s on the fritz again.”

I wave my arm to the side to rouse my sugar daddy up. He gets cranky when the minions let him oversleep. Well, employees, but minions just sounds radder. He’s not in bed. Huh. I usually awaken at the slightest disturbance. Must had too much too drink last night. Maybe that’s it, I do feel a bit weird. Including the familiar feeling of having forgotten stuff. Yep. Good old post-mission Everclear challenge. Did yesterday really suck that much? Hmmm...Nope, don’t remember. Oh well. Tired. Morning can suck it. I roll over and...

...Whaaaaat the hell?

I flip the blanket over. Holy shit. I...I have fucking huge titties. Two big pillowy orbs on my chest, lazily dangling toward the sides.

Thiiiis...is not alcohol.

I blink. No effect. My girls are still freakishly generous. Okay...Someone gave me the sexual object treatment. I thought the D-cup the PWF gave me was tough shit? Kylie, not even a metallic spine is going to let you kick ass with those jugs. They’re...well, they’re not watermelons, but they’re about an inch bigger than cantaloupes. I’m going to need some serious support here. Who the fuck did this to me? Shit, I don’t remember anything...I can’t even zero in on a last memory. There’s no clear cut-off line, just a big blur. And nothing out of the ordinary, I think...One or two trips abroad killing dudes for Nick, then the weekend with my Sisters...Was it the last thing? I can’t tell, it’s all jumbled...Dammit. Dammit! Who gave me fucking balloon tits?!

I sit up, and get almost carried away by the inertia. What in the goddamn, they’re so heavy! I instinctively wrap my arms under them to support their weight...and I see my arms. My God...they look so lean, so delicate...oh, come on, they messed with my guns too?!

Careful to not lose balance, I get out of bed. I am most definitely not at home. I’m not in the Foundation, either. This looks like a log cabin. I see a half-opened door to a bathroom. I go there, feeling the wood creaking under my bare feet, and go stand in front of the sink. I can only gasp upon facing my reflection. This...this isn’t me. All my muscles are gone. My nose is smaller and upturned, my eyes and lips a bit bigger, and those tits...just those fucking tits. I’ve been injected with a BioHack dose. Dammit. Fuck. Fuck! Okay...okay, calm down.

calm down...

I’m...I’m so beautiful. My angry expression turns into a smile. My hands weigh my new boobies up. They look so luscious...I stare into my doe-like eyes. I look so pretty. Maybe I should style my hair, give my lips a nice gl...

The fuck.

I punch myself in the jaw and turn around. I...I just had a Pretty episode. Like a year ago, just seeing my reflection sent me falling into a trance. I just barely avoided being pulled into two hours of self-pampering. My fucking God. I’m back to being a Pretty. Well, at least that cuts out on the detective work. The fucking PWF is at it again. I get out of the bathroom to get away from the mirror, and turn around, arms on my waist.

“Hey, Lawrence!” I shout to the emotion control specialist I just know is listening. “What the fuck is this shit?! Did the CEO suddenly discover she had Down syndrome? I know a lot of guys here don’t like me, but forcibly turning me back into a Pretty is a rather colossal fuck-up when you know my husband is all up in your computer network! As soon as he realizes I’m not back on Tuesday night, your head is going to be stuffed into a soccer ball!”

No answer. Yeah, right. Assholes.

“And no fucking thanks for this body, you bastard!”

I punch the wall in rage, and yelp. This fucking hurts! How much of a wimp did they turn me into? This whole thing stinks. The PWF is usually very communicative about their plans...They won’t do anything without at least trying to earn your support. But this time...nothing. They just turned me into a blow-up doll, left me in an unknown location, and called it a night. That’s just all kinds of strange, but wondering about it isn’t going to solve anything. Let’s get the fuck out of dodge.

First, clothes. Can’t go anywhere without some kind of reinforced bra now. I go straight for the cupboard and flip the doors open. I groan preemptively, because with my luck, of goddamn course there are going to be cutesy pink dresses. Eeexcept no, I got a nice dose of what the fuck instead. In the whole dresser, they’re only one outfit...A pair of denim overalls.

“The...hell?”

What kind of drugs is the PWF on? I thought it was a safe bet they wanted me to be the very stereotypicalest of sex objects, but overalls? Is there a fetish for those? Oh well.

“At least it’s practical...”

As I reach for the garment, I get the sense that something is amiss. Hell, everything points out to things being wrong in every direction there is, but it keeps coming. Just piling unfamiliarity on unfamiliarity. Anyway. The fabric might look like denim, but I don’t think it actually is. It’s strong, but distinctly softer. Do they want me to fuck strangers with those enormous fucking jugs or do they want me to work the fields? The baffling logic at work just pisses me off. And of course the overalls fit my new figure perfectly. It’s almost skintight, yet easy to move in. As for those melons...they threaten to spill over the thing, and show some serious sideboob. Yet, as much as it looks unfit for the chest, it feels really comfortable. It has to be tailor made, although designed to emphasize my new huge tits.

I move around a bit. Yeah, I still feel weak, but at least I can move without them jiggling. Time to get out of here. ANd if they left clothes, surely they...yeah! Shoes. At least those are plain and simple sneakers. I put them on, and go to the door. Walking feels awkward, but nothing I can’t get used to...at least I fucking hope.

I walk to the door...and find no handle. I try to push it, pry it open, but no luck. Can’t even think of smashing it, since I’m a frail little thing now. I’m in a prison cell pretending to be a room. Yeah, typical Foundation MO. Am I supposed to to wait until the customers arrive? Who knows what they’re thinking at this point. What now? Well, there might be a tablet around. The “window to the outside world” they issue Pretties to alleviate their guilt. And clearly, having one will pass the time until they deign opening the door...So I look around. And just to my right, I see a weird thing. Or, more accurately, yet another one.

It’s...I don’t know what it is. I certainly didn’t see anything like it. A human-shaped depression in the wall, complete with a screen at head level. Okay, no mystery there at least—I know a brainwashing pod when I see one, even if its my first time seeing one designed for an upright position.

What is this, some kind of convenience coccoon for the Pretty who wants to switch personalities on the go? Actually, that probably isn’t too far off the mark. The Foundation has been threatening to move away from its forced prostitution activites for a while now. And since they can’t really go “sorry about all this girls, here’s your freedom back” after making sure every one of us accepts and love our subhuman station...Yeah, self-service programming is probably as good a solution as any in this clusterfuck.

Which means there just HAS to be a tablet somewhere. Mine is still in a drawer in my former Pretty room after all. So I resume my exploration. The place is just about the same size as the room I just mentioned, only instead of my sober white deco, or even the baseline pink bullshit, this one is in the style of a down-to earth log cabin. Pretty much what you’d expect for a cozy retreat somewhere in the countryside, possibly just on the edge of a lake. I just hope the hearty countryside isn’t of the Stephen King variety. I always dreamt of what it would be to kick ass some real-life hellspawn, but as we’ve established, I won’t be kicking any ass with those tits.

Double bed, cupboard and bathroom aside, there isn’t much furniture around. Guess they sent me to an half-finished Garden. Possibly even on the other side of the country...Would make sense. They captured me, robbed me of my freedom, it figures they’d want to lock me away. Anyway...there is one last piece of furniture. A nightstand. I walk to it and sit down to open the low-hanging drawer, when yet another thing catches my eye.

“A flyer?”

Hm. Here’s that nagging sensation again. Whatever. I take the ad, and blink. Whaaaat the fuck. I’m on this thing. Seriously, I’m standing, with this new bimbo body, right there in the middle of the photograph, in front of what appears to be a farm field. I’m wearing the overalls, making an earnest, good natured smile to the camera. When did they take that?! I look so...cooperative.

“So sweet and nice. Blech~”

On the bottom of the flyer, there it is—the Prettier Word Foundation’s logo, a smiling woman’s face surrounded by flowers. So they’re making personalized advertisements now? And they’re marketing me as a busty farmhand. What a bunch of twats. After Nick busts me out of here and I get my body back, maybe we can force all of the staff here to walk across the States in a chicken suits. Well that’s enough of that...I open the drawer.

“Ah, there it is.”

But before I take the electronic device, my left hand flies to my throat. That’s what been feeling weird. My v...

My choker.

My choker’s gone!

Shit, talk about a one-two punch. I realize something’s wrong with my voice, reflexively touch the organ best associated to it, and find the indestructible device bonding me to my husband missing. That’s right. Indestructible. I hear it’s because of carbon nanotubes, whatever that is. The Prettier World Fundation went as far as breaking my alliance ring.

Okay. They’re dead serious about this. They want me to be a sexy, compliant doll, and for good, this time. I shiver, as I damn well should, but...God, some part of me feels excited. After all this time, Pretty me is still kicking around in there. And, perhaps more oddly...I can’t feel my Beast. I know I have a weak body but...shouldn’t I at least try busting that door opened? Shouldn’t I want to try? You know, because I’m Rabid Fucking Tiger? But no. I just don’t feel like it. And being so...calm just isn’t like me.

Not to mention my voice has changed. I mean, how fucked is that? Revelations about how screwed I am are coming at such a rapid pace that I’m forced to prioritize. I tentatively try to speak again, and it does seem my voice has gotten...a bit deeper. Not that I sound like a dude...hard to say from within your head anyway. But...calm and humble, I guess. Now that I think about it, my lips seem to stay naturally open. I can close them, but they like that open position. It affects my speech a bit as well, particularly on the “s”es. Is it all part of the “gentle farmhand girl” image the PWF wants for me? I don’t fucking know, I’m not a psychopath. Not that kind at least.

But as I am still discovering just how much they made be change, I hear a ringtone. I turn around. The tablet. Oh, yeah, another thing I left behind in my freakout fest. I finally take the damn tablet and swipe my finger across the screen. The familiar desktop screen from one year ago greets me. It’s even got the background I picked on day 4 of my captivity. There is, however, one rather significant difference. In the middle of the screen, a dark blue, almost black box is being displayed. In the lower right corner was a white venitian mask, and in the center, the words...

“Hello, Kylie.”

Shiver down the spine : check. What’s happening? It’s like my brain lost all its supplies of dealing-with-crazy-shit hormones and gave up. I’m just drawing a blank here. I mean, receiving a message isn’t freaky, granted, but this black box thing is so far removed from the PWF’s style...I can just feel someone far more sinister is behind this.

“Oh, and don’t bother trying to remember how to bring up the keyboard. I know you’re not all that at ease with technology. You can just speak—I’ll answer.”

“Ooo...kay...”

Honestly, I just stand there for a bit, trying to get my thought process back on.

“Confused, are we?”

“Yeah. That. Look, huh...God this voice’s weird. If you’re Lawrence or the CEO, then why the fuck do all this to me, and if you’re not, then what the hell are you, and why are you doing everything like the PWF?!”

An appropriate length of time later, the answer appears.

“Wow, I know we messed with your memory, but really? I didn’t think you’d genuinely consider being still in the Foundation. Oh, and like your new voice? My choice. I guess you can’t figure it from your point of view, but you’ve got kind of a Jodie Foster thing going on.”

“Well I’m glad you got to play fanboy on my body, asshat.”

“Fangirl.”

“The operative word was asshat. So, are you going to answer?”

“Oh, yes, I suppose I should...See, you weren’t supposed to forget that much. Does BrainTrust ring any bells?”

Brain...Trust? It...It does. Where do I know these assholes from? Oh, right...They bought us from the Foundation. I remember being with my sisters and listening to some bullshit...But what after that?

“Yeah...They bought us, but...I’m still not remembering everything, am I?”

“No, and that’s exactly the way we like it.”

“Super. So you’re with BrainTrust then?”

“I am.”

“And why are you making it look like I’m back in the PWF?”

“Ha ha ha.”

Whoever she is, she’s pissing me off.

“You don’t remember them happening, but the experiments have all been successful. In regards to the results, we have decided on a permanent reality shift for you and two of your dear sisters.”

“Which means...what?”

“Well, simply what you suspected. For now on, you’re a Pretty, and you’re going to make us a lot of cash by being a good, submissive cowgirl for customers.”

What.

“You seem dismayed.” Playfully wrote the unknown person.

“The fuck do you mean, cowgirl? I...I...I mean I’m obviously a farmhand.”

“Well, someone has to look after the cute animals, right?”

I try to come up with an answer, but...nothing comes.

“It’s kind of a long story, but right before transferring you here, I decided to replace your so-called “Beast” with the little cutie pie who emerged from the experiment.”

“Oh...yeah?” Not my best retort.

“I bet you were figuring your Beast for some kind of jungle cat or wolf, right? Well, now it’s a honey sweet, docile little cowgirl. No more psychotic outbursts for you!”

I recoil in horror. Is that why I’ve been feeling so calm?

“So let me give you a quick rundown,” I see the text still going, “In this new reality, when you got acquired and converted into a Pretty, something strange happened. Your body reacted with the drugs and...evolved. Well, not so much your body than one specific part...”

“Yeah, I get the picture. It’s not like they’re weighing down on my back every fucking second.”

“They are nice, aren’t they? Yes, in your new reality, they began a new growth spurt...But that was hardly the part that made you such a star to the Foundation’s customers.”

Gulp. There’s...more?

“Let’s not beat around the bush...You’re permanently lactating, now!”

“Oh, HELL NO.”

I put the tablet back into the drawer and slam it shut. None of this shit. Just none. I walk away, furious, a sick feeling in my stomach. Huge fucking knockers weren’t enough, were they? In a way, I’m glad this isn’t the Foundation. At the end of the day, they are sickos and hypocrites, but at least they treating us better than freaking toys!

As much as I’d like not thinking about it, though, I found my eyes drawn to my new boobies. Lactating? Seriously? Doesn’t a human woman need to be pregnant for that? The idea is just grotesque, but...yet again, I feel strangely calm. Is she serious about this? Did they turn my Beast into a cowgirl? Does it have anything to do with the experiment she was talking about? I have an...urge to fondle myself now. Great. Just great. Whoever the “cowgirl” is, she’s clearly influencing me.

“By the way...”

“Gaah!”

I stagger away from the direction I heard the synthetized voice. Not a shitty, microsoft Sam one either, it sounds aalllmost real. It came from...That strange upright brainwashing pod. Oh. The screen in the head-shaped depression is lit up.

“Yes, it’s me again. Rude of you to stuff our means of communication in the drawer. Anyway...I get you’re not happy with these changes, so how about we play a game?”

“A game? You mean one that’s designed so I can’t possibly win, right?”

“You and I both know that’s not your body, and that’s not even the true PWF. Still, everything that is going to happen in the coming days will follow the reality we decided for you. All your customers will act according to it. That part is not negotiable. You’re a Pretty, period. But, well, in this reality, you ARE in the PWF, and you’ll have access to transformation services.”

My eyes shoot open. Of course! Why didn’t I think of...

“Buuut for now, all services related to your yummy boobies are put on hold!”

“Fuck. You.” I say, straight from the bottom of my heart.

“And here’s the game! Said services are put on hold for exactly one week! In seven days, you’ll be able to request stopping your lactation and reducing your breasts...”

I raise my eyes and wave my right hand around mockingly. I know the old tune.

“But...”

“Yes, there is a but, Kylie!” Chipperly answers the BrainTrust gal. “Well, three, actually. One, the request is fixed and for a limited time. You pass on it, you’ll have milky knockers forever. Two! The reduction is set to your puny old C-cup you had before the PWF.”

“What?! Can’t I have my D-cup at least?”

“Fraid not, you greedy girl! Either you go natural or you keep the whole package! And three...You can’t exit this cozy little cabin without subjecting yourself to a bit of conditioning!”

Oh, doooon’t tell me.

“This is why the exit door has no handle, isn’t it?” I ask, disheartened.

“Yep! It will only open once you’ve gotten into this here machine and let it work its magic on you!”

“Oookay...And what does it do? If you tell me “turn me into a cowgirl”, I’m going to...”

“Do nothing, you silly Pretty.”

Mph. Yeah, forgot that. I’m back to being a non-violent sex doll.

“Anyway, you already have an inner cowgirl, and she can be brought to the surface by a certain someone...So no need for further programming in that area. We do need you to be her farmer, though! For this, the machine simply trains your mind to love your new boobies and the feeling of being milked.”

Sigh...Yeah, so that in one week, I won’t be able to choose losing them.“

“Exactly, and if you can’t give up on them, accepting your new identity will just be a matter of time! Haven’t you smartened up, Kylie!”

“You know what? Fuck everything about this unfair game. I’m just going to stay here...”

I go to the bed, and lie supine.

“...And wait. I’m sure the customers will love being one Pretty short of what they paid for.”

A smirk paints my lips. Take that, sucker. Think I can’t hold out of a measly week without food? You’ve got a lot to learn about what the mercenary life can teach you, bitch.

“Oooh, clever girl~”

Talk all you want, I’m not gonna...

“But Selena and Christina can’t live without you, you know?”

My heart skips a beat. How...How exactly do you breathe, again?

“...What?” Escapes a pathetic little whine from my lips.

“Yeah, the experiments have left them a bit...dependent, I’m afraid. They’re just outside the cabin, and BrainTrust reality shifted them so hard, they won’t think of feeding themselves. You’re not just tending to your own little cow inside, Kylie dearie. You’re a little bit their mommy too.”

I sit on the edge of the bed with ragged breath. Shit. Is she bluffing? She has to be. Can I take the chance to ignore her? I...I can’t, can I? But while I’m considering my options, the synthetized voice drags on.

“From lost young girl consumed by hatred to a kind, dependable mother figure...” She taunts. “Isn’t that a happy ending? Come on...Just let me show you how nice it feels to be milked. You’ll discover a new favorite thing in life, and you’ll get to see your Sisters!”

“Would you just shut the FUCK UP?!”

Okay, Kylie. Deep breaths...You can’t abandon Sel and Chris. But are they still even themselves? Dammit...No matter how far gone they are, I just can’t leave them alone against those BrainTrust assholes. Especially if they’re pretending to be the PWF. My Sisters revere those guys. So, all I have to do is get through a programming session meant to make me love those jugs, huh?

What kind of Sister would I be if I got cold feet for that? And there’s no way they’re going to make me like something as fucked up as permanent lactation and...a bovine Beast. Just bullshit.

“Alright, you cunt, let’s get this over with.”

* * *

On the other side of the new building, in her shiny little command post, Terri chuckled.

“Will do, Kylie, will do.”

Just as the former mercenary stepped into Grace’s contraption, the newly-minted Mistress cut off the communications program.

“Jesus, Ky, it feels like it’s been an eternity since I saw you.” She thought out loud, swiveling into her chair. “I’m sure glad I got free rein for the end-line specifics. I like cutie Kylie, but...a garden’s just not the same without a dependable Pretty in the place, you know?”

Kylie, back to being naked, was putting herself in the human-shaped depression, a determined look in her eyes. Terri did feel bad for tricking her into thinking she was just a nameless BrainTrust grunt...But she also knew her plan was the correct one. Cutie Kylie had to still be inside her, waiting for Alyssa’s return, but mommifying the real Kylie a bit was just perfect, since she was the family’s big sister now.

When the tomboy was satisfactorily standing in place, Terri opened the “KylieFinal-Day1” program, and

launched it.

“Don’t worry, sis. It’s just something to ease you into your new self.”

* * *

Okay, I’m standing in the...

Whirrr CLAP CLAP

Aaand I’m fastened in place. Unlike the cocoon, I can still see a bit of light but...OW! Fuck, this thing’s putting syringes in my neck! I can handle...OW! This usually but this body’s so...FUCK! sensitive...

After this crap, the usual happens. A buzzer is applied against my clit, adjusting itself juuust at the right spot. I groan when it begins working, fighting against the sweet shroud it lays on my brain.

“Fuck...ff...” I let out, unable to really open my mouth, fastened in place by the head-shaped polymer.

But the main event, unsurprisingly, seems to be happening at my tits’. I was expecting some kind of suction cup, but the two bowls I squeezed them into come wholly alive.

“Mmmnhh?”

It’s like...dozens of beads are running under the polymer, massaging my whole titties. When I start feeling a powerful suction on my nips, I’m already moaning. And then...I really begin to feel weird. Something’s flowing through the things in my neck. I’m...being drugged. Setton’s drugs. The ones that make you feel soo good and happy and...

Graaah! Focus...

“Hello, Kylie.” Says a sweet female voice. “As always, I’m your daily happiness program.”

“Gt bnt...”

“You’re such a truly exceptional woman, Kylie...Somewhere in your DNA is the secret to making humans lactate naturally. You were an unhappy, common thug once, but discovering your true talent made you unique. Your milk...is your gift to the world! And since you want it to taste it the best, you know you have to make sure you’re always happy.”

The drugs were really taking hold now. I feel...I feel so...There’s a smile on my face.

“So let’s wash all doubts and unhapiness from your mind so you can be the happiest, most delicious, most feminine woman out there today as well!”

Yes, let’s! No, I mean...I can’t...Ooooh...The pumps are really getting to work now...the beads are forming waves, massaging my jugs deeply. There’s...something coming. This can’t be true. I’m a tomboy. I can’t be making...not without a baby...

“Aaaannhh...”

It’s going through my nipples. So warm. I feel it. Milk. I’m really making milk. That’s no illusion...Dear God...It...It feels...I feels...

“It’s amazing, Kylie.” The voice keeps going. “No girl is more desirable than you. You’re so special...Everybody loves your taste.”

Ah...yes...amazing. So...My nipples feel so warm and pleasant...Why shouldn’t I smile? This feeling in my heart...Aaaah...No, resist...foc...

“You’re happy to be so special...Proud to be a life giver. This is what you want...No more deaths. You’re a good person. A happy person.”

No...dammit, Kylie, you’re proud to be a monster...Don’t let them...convince you...I can be a good person? Isn’t that...what I want? No. They’re tricking me. They’re...What? Suddenly, the screen lights up. Pink. Warm, fleshy pink. And...I’m in the center. No...No, don’t use my Pretty narcissism against me, that’s cheat...

“That’s the best woman in the world!” Enthusiastically chirps the voice.

Am...am I? Shit, I’m slipping away. Feeling the warm milk pouring out is so...And I’m so beautiful...Focus...

“You’re the best woman in the world because everything you do is so kind...”

I’m not...kind...Monster...Beast...The other me is smiling. Speaking. Looking so content. She...she is the voice. No way, that’s what my voice sounds like? It’s so beautiful. No! It’s not mine. Not mine...

“I’m not an angry, sad tomboy.” She says matter of factly. “I’m femininity itself. I won’t listen to the anger anymore.”

Another chemical. Flashbacks of the cocoon. I know this one. Silencing thoughts. Can’t let...Resist...Can’t resist. Can’t. I am grabbing my boobies. Pretty...

“That’s right...” She...I say. “I’ve been bad, but my boobies stepped up and healed me. They leaked all the badness away. I’m pure now...I’m me.”

I’m me.

“I’m my boobies.”

I’m my boobies. I don’t need a brain...I don’t need thinking. I’m a nice pair of milky boobies. They’re so warm...As long as I feel my milk flowing, everything’s right. Milk is life. Milk is goodness. Milk is me. I want to taste my happy milk now. Mooo, good girl...

Whirrr

No more pink...No more things in my neck. Boobies can...I can move. I fall down. Feel empty. My hands fly to Boobies. I want them to feel good. They’re my most important part, after all. I massage them, and the nice feeling comes back. Happy. Smiiiile. I am so pretty when I bounce around like that. I’m so big and sensitive. The mouth moans...I know exactly what it needs. Come now, scary Kylie...drink. Let me change you...You’ll have to be a good farmer for me. I am a very demanding little cow.

That’s it...Taste our milk. So delicious, isn’t it? You already know you won’t get rid of my udders. They’re part of you now, scary Kylie...You already love them as much as I do. You’re stronger than moo...me, but you’re still a girl, and milk is more in your nature than violence is. So nice and creamy...I’m happy for you, scary Kylie! You’re a happy milky girl too now.

No more milk...Don’t worry, I’ll get us some moooore in no time. Oh, you want our control back? Sure, scary Kylie. You can be in charge. It’s okay...I know that when Mistress is back, she’ll push you waaay into the background. She’ll have the whoooole weekend with her docile little cow. So go earn a lot of moooney for us, okay? I believe in you. You’re not used to being milky since our Bat Mitzvah like I am, but I’m sure you’ll manage. You’re born for this too. Bye, scary Kylie! I love you!

* * *

I shake my head. Whoa. I still have a bit of milk on my lips, and my nipples still ache. I...should be pissed off, but seriously? This fucking rocked. I mean, not that I remember what happened. As always, being brainwashed isn’t really something memory latches onto. You just wake up with afterglow and a new personality. Still...They...BrainTrust’s done it. Just one session and I already look forward to having more milk. Shit.

Not thinking about it right now. The door’s finally open. I can see a field of moderately tall grass with some farm equipment around. In the distance, a tall wall. Closed environment...A Pretty garden. My new home.

I get dressed in a flash. Enough cowing around, my Sisters are waiting.

* * *