The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Człowiek Mleczarnia Gospodarstwo, sp. z o.o.

Part 1 of ??

(mc, ff, la, sf)

DISCLAIMER: This work is intended solely for an adult audience. If you’re under 18, or not into explicit erotica, stop reading now.

Copyright © 2012 Joe Mama

Some rights reserved.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.5 License. To view a copy of this license, visit or send a letter to Creative Commons, 543 Howard Street, 5th Floor, San Francisco, California, 94105, USA.

[Synopsis & acknowledgments: this grows (again) out of appreciation for all the usual suspects who have so powerfully covered this subject matter before I did, plus Synthean’s PharmGen universe [example here:], the lovely ladies at, and too much idle speculation about exactly how those ladies got to be so lovely.]

The first phone call was picked up after the third ring.

“Hello,” said the person who answered it, with that tone of distraction and indifference that comes from spending too much time on the phone.

“HELP!!” shouted the patient. “HELP ME! ARE YOU THERE?? OH, SHIT, CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME??!!” she continued, sobbing a little as she rushed out each panicked syllable. “PLEASE!! FUCK, PLEASE SOMEBODY, HELP ME!!!”

“Okay, okay! Listen!” replied the voice, finally managing to interrupt. “I’ll help you! I’ll … try to help you but you have to slow down and expl—”

“[Wait!!],” the patient replied in a forced whisper. “[Shit. I think someone’s coming...]” She paused as though listening for something but her shuddering breaths were still audible over the phone. “[SHIT!!]” she whisper-shouted again.

The voice paused and waited for more, but only a second later the line went dead.

* * *

The second call, from the same number, was picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?” said the voice with a hint of urgency.

“Hello?” the patient whispered back. “Hello? Uh, hi, can you hear me? Who is this?” she continued, before the voice could answer the first question.

The voice paused a beat before responding. “Who’s this? Look, you called me, sister. So you first: who’s this?”

The patient paused. “Well, this is ...,” she paused again. “Well, it’s me. From before. I’m … I’m in a room.”

“Oh, ’from before,’” replied the voice flatly. “But no name. So you’re in—”

“A room,” confirmed the patient. “I’m ... in this room, and I’m ...” Her tone sounded like she should have had more to say but no words followed.

Now the voice paused again. And then replied with sarcasm, “Yeah, I get that you’re in a room. So am I, so is anyone who isn’t ... sitting out under some, fucking, tree somewhere... Look, who is this, really? Is this Debbie?” She chuckled and continued with a laugh, “Bitch, if you’re fucking with me ag—”

The patient interrupted, her whispered voice rising in urgency “No, I’m not ... I need help. I need you to help me. I …,” the patient paused again, searching for words. “I’m in this room.”

“Right, the room, got it,” said the voice, losing patience. “Look, Debbie, or whoever you are, I have no idea why you think this kind of pain-in-the-ass is funny, okay? So I’m hanging up now. Goodb—”

“But I’m [naked]!” blurted the patient.

“You’re … what??” replied the voice, with at least a little incredulity.

“Naked,” replied the patient. “Pretty much. I mean, I’ve got like a hospital gown on but nothing at all underneath. Look, the point is that I just woke up like a half hour ago in some fucked up white room, with no windows, and just a door with a slot in it. And I found my clothes and my phone just sitting over there on a chair next to the—. Wait.” She paused again. “Actually, I’m not sure these are my clothes. And ..., maybe this isn’t my...”


“Well, there’s this ... pile of clothes on a chair, and I thought they were mine but … there’s no way I could.... I mean, there’s just no way.”


“Hello?” This time it was the voice, wondering where her mystery caller went. “Are you still there?”

“Uh yeah,” said the patient. “Sorry—uh, sorry, look, uh... I gotta go. Sorry. Bye.”


* * *

“Hello?” said the voice.

“Hi,” said the patient softly, “it’s, well … it’s me. Again. From before?”

After a pause, the voice simply said, “O-kay.”

After which the caller didn’t respond.

So the voice continued, “Well look, I talked to Debbie earlier this evening and got convinced enough that this isn’t one of her stupid practical jokes, but that means I’m kind of at a loss here. It’s not that I don’t want to help you, nameless one, if you really do need help, but I don’t even know where to start. You’ve hung up on me twice now, remember?”

“No, I know,” replied the patient. “I’m trying to figure out how to explain why I’m calling you, but it’s just … complicated.”

“Well, what the fuck,” said the voice, “I’ll play along. Complicated how?”

“Complicated like, there are things I think I remember, like I said earlier about the clothes? How I could swear they’re mine? But those things like that … well, they make no sense. Especially considering things that now I know that I know.”

“So wait,” replied the voice, trying to keep up, “there are things you’re sure you know now, that don’t jibe with things you think you remember?”


“Well, whatever, I guess. I suppose that does sound kinda puzzling. Like what?”

“Well. Like...”


The patient lowered her voice again to a whisper. “Like, [my breasts],” she said.

“Your b-breasts??” stammered the voice.

“Yes, it’s weird, I know, but the thing is... So there’s these clothes, on that chair, right? Like I mentioned? Well, I could have sworn they’re mine, I mean, I even specifically remember wearing them, I think I even remember buying them, but… Well, they’re way too small. Especially, you know, up top.”

“Too small?” asked the voice.

“Yes, I mean, I checked the bra, and it’s a 32B.”

After a short pause the voice asked, “Okay. And so I take it …”

“Yeah, I mean ... well, there’s no way. It wouldn’t even come close.”

“You mean, your … well, your boobs are...”

“Huge,” said the patient. “I mean, huge, definitely way bigger than ... like at least a double-D or something. In fact, I think that could be why I’m topless, I mean, there is literally no way these would fit in those clothes.”

“Wow. Okay. Fair enough, I guess,” replied the voice.

“And they’re also just really … {sensitive},” explained the patient, whispering the last word like it was a scandal.

“Sensitive? Like, sore?”

“Well, yeah, kinda. But also like … you know, {sensitive}.” She paused again, and then whispered, “{And not just my breasts, I mean, it’s my whole body,}” she added, dropping off into a sigh. “{Everything I touch ... just feels soooo gooood, but [gasp] pinching my nipples just makes me, like—}”


“Um, hello?” asked the voice.

Deep, soft moans then filled the line for several long moments before it eventually went dead.

* * *

“So, here’s the thing,” the patient began, after clearing her throat. “So I found this phone with the clothes, in the pocket of the skirt, right? And same thing: I really could have sworn it was mine, it even has the exact same case around it that I know mine had, but it doesn’t have any of my contacts in it. In fact,” she added, “it’s only got one phone number in it.”

“This one,” said the voice.

“Bingo,” said the patient. “But that can’t be right. I know I had, like, hundreds of phone numbers programmed in here, and now the only one is a number I don’t even recognize? And I can’t even remember any other numbers at all, not even my own. It just makes no sense. Hey, tell me something: what number comes up on the caller id screen when I call you?”

“There isn’t a number. It just says ‘unavailable,’” said the voice. “What description is listed on that contact?” she asked.

“Nothing,” replied the patient. “There’s no name or anything on the list, just this number listed under ‘mobile.’ But it doesn’t say anything at all about whose mobile.”

“Hunh. Damn,” said the voice.

“Yeah, exactly. Damn. Plus the guards, or nurses, or whatever they are just come and go without ever even talking to me—did I mention that?”

“No, wait, who comes and goes?”

“I don’t know—sorry, I get really foggy about which parts of this I’ve already told you about and which ones I haven’t.”

“Well, you said someone was coming once—first time you called me, in fact, but you never explained who it was. So who are these people? Are they guards or nurses? Or some of each?”

“Well, no, they’re all basically the same, but I really don’t know who they are. They come in from time to time and, like, pinch and prod my titti—I mean, uh, my breasts, and then they prick one of my fingers and dab the blood against this little electronic thingy. Then they usually give me a couple shots, sometimes five or six, actually, and they leave. I guess they act more like nurses than guards but those masks are just so scary-looking that I figu—”

“Wait—the what? The masks?”

“Yeah, they wear, like scuba masks or gas masks or something. Their uniforms are all black latex, and everything from the neck down is skin-tight, but the headgear is really kinda wild. And there’s definitely some Darth Vader-lookin’ mouthpiece in there that they’re breathing through. That’s kind of a fucked up thing for a nurse to wear, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Are you sure they only breathe through the—”

“Oh, and one of them left a clipboard here last time, did I mention that yet?”

“No, what? Really? A clipboard?”

“Yeah. Like with all this paperwork on it, but it’s in some foreign language. It’s not English, but I can read the letters. Most of them, at least. Looks like Polish or something. But I can read the numbers on it, it looks like they’re tracking some kind of—”

“Weird,” said the voice firmly. “Whatever, I dunno—look, I wouldn’t even bother with it. So wait, back up, so you found this phone the other day and just called some number you didn’t even recognize? Why would you do that?”

“Well, I was in a panic, remember? I mean, I’m calmer now, but that first time I called you I was really freaking out. And what about you: if you just got some random call from an unlisted number when I called you earlier, why’d you pick up?” asked the patient, looking for any flash of insight.

“Dunno, really,” said the voice. “Bored on a Sunday afternoon, I guess. But honestly, look: these are fun conversations and all, definitely livening up a couple dull days, but you’re right that none of it makes any sense. In fact, I still can’t help but think you’re just someone else bored with the same-old same-old, making prank phone calls about padded white rooms just to fuck with people. I mean, think about it: for someone who claims to have just woken up one day trapped naked in a windowless room, like you just said: you sure don’t seem very upset about it.”

“No,” replied the patient. “You know, you’re right, I’m not—not anymore. I know I was earlier, but now that you mention it it’s more like just ... curious. But that’s another thing that I think I remember: the more I think about it, the more I kind of feel like I’m actually supposed to be here.”

“Really?” asked the voice.

“Yeah, I can’t say why, or how, but now that I’ve had a chance to calm down a little it’s not like I feel like I have to escape or ‘get out of here’ any more, you know? It’s more that I’m just … confused. Like there’s something I’m supposed to do. And I want to just … do that, you know, just … do whatever I’m supposed to do.

“But I just can’t figure out what that is,” continued the patient. “Hey, do you … know what I’m supposed to do?”

“What? No, how the f—No. Look, from what you’ve told me, you could be anywhere. It sounds like a mental ward, frankly, so maybe you do belong there. You act like you don’t even know your own name, or how you got to … wherever you are, so maybe you are there for your own good and you just don’t know it.”

“Yeah, could be I guess. One way or the other I actually don’t feel much like doing anything about it. It definitely helps to talk to you, frankly, but I’m also just really....” the patient’s voice drifted off into something of a sigh.


“Really what?” asked the voice.

“No, I don’t want to say...”

“Why not? As if there’s any way I could even know—”

“Really horny,” confessed the patient. “I mean every inch of my ... body just ... tingles. And my nipples, I mean, you wouldn’t even believe it. It’s like having three clits!” She giggled a little and then cleared her throat, with a bit of shame.

Then a three-tone chime went off, not unlike a subway or train door warning, followed quickly by the patient, explaining “Oh, that means it’s … uh, sorry. I’m ... I’m gonna go again. Sorry if I’ve bothered you, okay? Sorry. Bye.”

“Nono,” said the voice quickly, with a bit of her own emphasis. “Definitely very weird, but no bo—[click].”

She stopped speaking as the line went dead in her ear.

* * *

“Hello?” said the voice, with just a bit of eagerness.

“Hi there,” said the patient happily. “How you doing?”

“How’m I doing?” asked the voice. “Good enough I guess. You definitely sound better. So, what, are we buddies now?”

“Well, kind of, at least as far as I’m concerned. In fact, you’re the only person I actually talk to, so I wanted to call you back and—”

“Wait, what was that?”

“What was what?”

“You just said... You really haven’t actually talked to anyone but me since...?” asked the voice.

“Well, no,” replied the patient. “Do you think I’m supposed to talk to someone else?” she asked.

“What? I don’t know, how should I know? But that was, what, Sunday?!? You mean … you seriously haven’t talked to anyone else in the last two days?”

“Well.... No. I didn’t know I was supposed to. I really don’t even see anyone else, actually, except when the guards bring me food, or come in and hose me off.”


“Well, I get hungry. Every time I wake up, that is, I feel pretty hungry. And I must get pretty ripe after a while, too. There’s a toilet over in the corner I can go use, you know, whenever I need to, but no sink or shower or anything.

“No, not that, I meant the other thing. You said they hose you off??”

“Well, yeah,” she continued, lowering her voice to a whisper. “It’s like I said: I’m horny—I mean really horny—like, all the time. And so pretty much ever since the last time we spoke, I guess whenever I haven’t been sleeping or eating, I’ve been, you know, either playing with myself or using the machine. I guess after a while it really must start to reek in here a little.”

What the fu— You mean, you’ve been …,” now it was the voice’s turn to whisper, “{fucking yourself} for the last two days???”

“Well...” said the patient. “I guess so. I guess that does seem like kind of a long time, right? It’s just that there’s no days or nights in here, so basically I just nod off and then later I wake up. I guess I didn’t realize exactly how long I’ve—”

“So you don’t even know whether it’s day or night?” asked the voice, “seriously?”

“Well, yes,” replied the patient, “I guess it must not matter. I don’t remember ever seeing the lights go off, but I don’t really notice, to be honest. Every so often the guards bring in a new bowl of this granola-looking stuff to eat. I guess they hose me off every third time or so. They shaved most of my hair off last time. Or, actually... Maybe two or three times ago, I think...”

“Fuck,” said the voice. “I mean, you know, FUCK. That is really, really fucked up.”


“Really? Yeah, ok, I guess so,” said the patient eventually. “Sure sounds like it seems that way, but … I don’t know. I’m actually not sure I really mind all that much. The guards seem nice enough and honestly, the milking machine is pretty awesome.”

“The … WHAT??”

“Well, you know, the milker. Didn’t I tell you?”

“No. No, you did not tell me about the milker.”

“Oh. Shit. Well that’s the best part. So, when that chime goes off they bring this machine into the middle of the room. There’s this saddle at the bottom, that I sit on, with like a rack for my head and my arms. My titties plop right into these two cups when I lean into the rack, and there’s these two hoses than run down from the cups into this big, like, flask right in front of the saddle. There’s a big, thick hose that runs up from the flask up to the rack, right by my face, so I can drink some of the milk while I—”

“Wait, you drink ...”

“The milk. Of course! Why wouldn’t I? It’s fucking great, actually—it tastes better than the food, but it also really gets me off. That vibe in the saddle and the tit milkers are definitely part of it, big parts [heehee!!], but there’s something about drinking the milk that’s like throwing gas on fire. I can kinda lick a few drops straight from my titties every now and then, but when I’m on the machine I can really take some good deep gulps. Then I’m just gone for, I don’t know how long, gotta be hours—just bouncing back and forth between cumming like crazy and going right back to the edge of the next on—”

The patient’s monologue was interrupted by the chimes again.

“Oh, yay!!” exclaimed the patient excitedly. “Gotta go!”

“No wait!” screamed the voice. “At least leave the line connec—,” she added, as the line went dead.

* * *

“Well hello again,” said the voice. “Been a while.”

“oh,” replied the cow. “sorry, i’ve been, uh, busy,” she added with a stifled giggle.

“No, that’s ok,” said the voice. “Busy is good. So, is there something I can help you with?” she asked.

“oh no,” said the cow, “no, ma’am, that’s not—i mean, this time, that’s not why I called.”

“It’s not?”

“no ma’am, you see, i just wanted to call to thank you.”

“Thank me? Oh, that’s nice of you but it’s really not nece—”

“no it is,” blurted the cow. “you see, ma’am, i’ve been able to thank one of the guards, several times, properly, but that just made me realize that even though you and i only talk on the phone i just ... i don’t know what i would have done without you back when i was still so confused. back before everything became clear, before it all just makes so much sense. so the thing is, i really wish i could show you how much—”

The sound of the chimes interrupted again, but this time the voice spoke first.

“Well, listen, I understand, and it’s very kind of you to thank me,” she said. “In fact, you’re quite welcome. It was my pleasure to help you, and actually I’d like to thank you, too, for your cooperation with the protocol. So tell you what: go ahead and mount the milking machine, but stay on the line and I’ll talk you into this next session. Would you like that?”

“ohh yes ma’am, i’d like that a lot. i ... i’m a good cow, aren’t i ma’am?” asked the cow.

“Yes, you are,” replied the voice. “You’re a very good cow. Say it out loud.”

“i’m a very good ca-ha-howwww,” said the cow in a gasp, as the milking machine kicked into life in the background.

“Good. Again.”

“i’m a very good cow,” she repeated, breathily, but with a bit more composure.

“Good. Now grind yourself against the saddle and repeat that until you come: ‘I’m a very good cow.’ Say it.”

“Hhnnnnnn-ohhh, yes. yesssss ma’aaaam... i’m a very good cow.”

“Good. Again. Just the last part.”

“i’m a … verygood cow.”



“Again. Until you come.”

“Hhhhhhnnggggohhhh! OHHHHhhh!!! I’m—a—very—good—cow,” she panted.


“I’mavery ... hhnnn-g-good … c- .. cow. OH. OH. Oohhhhhh. Yessssss. FUCK. Ohhh, Fuck. Ohhh, thank you mistress. Thank you so much. Thank you so much, for making me such a good cow....”

* * *

“This is a pretty impressive transcript for a rookie, Agent... Agent, uh...”

“Agent Becker, ma’am.”

“Yes, thank you. Agent Becker. You did a very nice job here; stringing the subject along, keeping her progressing through the protocol. And a particularly nice job handling that fiasco with the clipboard. Shithead collection techs don’t have half a brain among the lot of them...”

The Director flipped through the file a little further before continuing. “Of course that mobile phone is the key, though, isn’t it? You did very well to lead her back to it. They lunge for that phone like it’s their lifeline, when in fact it’s just another part of the bridle.”

“Thank you Director. And yes, ma’am, the phone really does seem to give them something to orient themselves around immediately after the pharma battery. They’ve got that short, precious window of truly rational consciousness left, and they spend every moment of it just tightening the reins around their own minds, don’t they?”

“Quite right Agent,” replied the Director, walking back around behind her desk. She smoothed her short skirt over her well-toned hips before taking her seat.

“But to be candid, ma’am, I found the whole process much easier than I expected, certainly easier than the training implied,” continued the young brunette agent, standing smartly in front of the Director’s desk. “In fact, I think at bottom that subject actually wanted to submit, but just needed the space to take herself through it at her own pace. It was more a matter of staying out of her way while she surrendered herself than it was of forcing her along.”

“Well that’s right Agent, in fact that’s very perceptive of you. They’re not all quite that ready for it, but it happens far more often than not, to be honest. Scores of these little sluts wake up from the drug phase actually eager to become cows, they just have a hard time admitting it to themselves. But they do all eventually embrace it, don’t they?”

The young agent’s breath caught for a moment, and she shifted her weight nervously from one foot to the other as she cleared her throat. “[ahem] Yes ma’am, I suppose they do.”

“So tell me about yourself, Agent, are you enjoying your work here?”

“Oh, yes ma’am, very much. I’ve always been fascinated by cutting-edge science like this, so having the chance to get so personally involved in the work itself is quite … fulfilling,” she explained.

“Yes, that’s a good word for it, Agent. I certainly also find it all quite fulfilling,” added the Director with a bit of a sigh, closing the file on her desk and turning her full attention to the young Agent. “And speaking of filling things, Agent Becker, I have to say you’re looking rather more … busty than usual these days.”

The Agent flushed a deep crimson across her face and chest as she struggled to respond. “Ma’am?” she croaked, eventually.

“Your tits, Agent. They’re clearly bigger than they used to be. Don’t you agree?”

“Uh, yes ma’am, I suppose they are,” she replied, as her nipples tightened into stones beneath the thin fabric of her uniform.

“And in fact, you’re not even wearing a bra today, are you?”

The agent cleared her throat again and straightened up, trying to regain her composure. “No ma’am. My old ones just don’t fit anymore. I realize this is unprofessional, ma’am, and I certainly apologize. In fact, I was planning to go get some new ones this aftern—”

“That won’t be necessary Agent,” replied the Director, cutting off her underling in mid-grovel. “Please remove your top.”


“Your shirt, Agent Becker. Take it off.”

Wordlessly, the young brunette pulled the hem up from out of her skirt and then up and over her head and shoulders. She placed it on the ground and returned her arms to her sides. “Ma’am, I can explain,” she blurted.

“Don’t bother,” replied the older blonde, leaning back in her chair. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already got the gist of it, but I will be asking you to fill in some of the details. So tell me: how many times did you two fuck?”

The young agent gulped before responding. “Ah, five times altogether ma’am. Although I guess it depends on what you mean by fuck.”

“Really? Please explain.”

“Her clitoris came to be pretty big, ma’am. Not quite like a cock, but similar. So by the last couple times, instead of just nursing from her and grinding against each other it actually was more like we were fucking. But aside from that it was pretty much all oral.”

“How did it start?”

“Well the, ah, one of the guards caught me … touching myself after one of the phone calls, and said she could sneak me in to the treatment room if I let her go down on me.”

“Which one?”

“I think it was the Tuesday call, the one—”

“No—which guard?”

“Oh, sorry, I don’t know her name. It was that redhead. She’s new, I think.”

“Oh, yes, Lt. Mallory, of course. No, she’s not new. Been here for years, in fact, one of my best guards. So to be clear: that was you the cow was referring to as that ‘guard’ she thanked?’”

“Yes ma’am.”

“You realize, of course, that was a serious violation of protocol?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And that there’s a massive variation in potency in the unrefined product?”


“No, guess you didn’t think about that part. Sure looks like you got a hefty dose, though, we’ll draw some blood later to spec it out a little.” “

The Director paused to make a note before continuing. “So why did you do it?”

“I... I just couldn’t help myself ma’am.”

“Why not?”

“Because... Because... Because it was just too fucking hot not to. Ma’am.” The young agent was swaying back and forth, now, rubbing her thighs against each other as her arousal made it physically impossible to stand still. “I simply couldn’t not fuck her, ma’am. I ... I couldn’t just sit there, knowing she was really down in that room, really experiencing all of … that, and just talk to her about it, without acting on it.”

“So you acted on it.”

“Yes. Ma’am,” added the agent, her nipples tightening at the memory.

“Well, yes, Agent Becker I suppose that is fucking hot isn’t it? In fact, I’d say it’s very fucking hot.”

“Yes ma’am,” replied the agent. “So it seems...” she added with glance downward at the desk, her own arousal and impertinence getting the better of her.

“Oh really?” asked the director. “What makes you say that, Agent?”

“Because … you’re, uh, you’re touching your...”

“I’m masturbating, aren’t I?” asked the blonde, her right hand busy inside her panties while her left hand casually stroked the inner side of her left thigh.

“Yes ma’am. Yes you are.”

“Yes,” said the Director. “I am.”

The two women shared a long moment, their eyes locked before the Director stood and lowered her skirt and panties down to the floor. She then walked back around from behind her desk, allowing the Agent to soak up the beauty of the Director’s trimmed pussy: swollen and wet, framed perfectly by her open shirt-tails.

“Eyes up here,” said the Director with a smirk, as she closed the gap to her young colleague and reached out to caress the agent’s taut abdomen.

“Stand up straight,” the Director ordered. “Head back. Eyes front. Good. Open up,” she said, sliding two fingers deep into the young agent’s mouth. “Nice. Wider. Tongue out. All the way.” With that she wrapped her other hand behind the agent’s head and sucked the agent’s tongue deep into her mouth for a long moment, breast to breast and hip to hip until both women were gasping with passion.

“That’s nice tongue work, Agent,” said the mature blonde as she wiped her lower lip. “So, now go ahead and tell me,” she instructed, leaning in to brush the tip of her tongue across the edge of the Agent’s shuddering jaw.

“T-tell you what, ma’am,” asked the young brunette nervously as her eyes rolled back in her head.

“{Tell me what it is you want},” breathed the Director in the young Agent’s ear. “{I already know the answer, but I’d just love to hear you say it out loud.}” Her fingers brushed across the rocks of the Agent’s nipples as she drew out each word.

“I... I want … that,” gasped the Agent between shallow, panting breaths as she leaned into the Director’s caresses. “I want the protocol. I want to b-become a cow.” She shuddered as the admission and the sparks filling her breasts nearly robbed her of the strength to stand. The Director encircled her in her arms, brushing her nose against the Agent’s cheek and her mons against the Agent’s firm hip.

“Of course you do, Agent Becker. Of course you do. In fact, every young agent I’ve worked with has eventually begged me to put her in the program. Why, that cow you just trained? She had your job up until about two months ago. She took four or five subjects through the protocol, though, before giving in. You didn’t even make it through your first before you caved.” The Director’s fingertips found their way under the hem of the agent’s skirt and skimmed along the front of her damp panties. “{You must be a good bit sluttier than her},” she added.

The Agent shuddered again, imagining dozens of other eager new Agents stroking themselves through the phone calls, like she had. And then “sneaking” in to the treatment suites, like she had, for the “forbidden” lesbian sex that was actually just bait on a hook.

“Of course, I’m sure your exposure to the gas only helped break you down,” said the Director, removing herself from the shuddering Agent and calmly returning to her chair. “You picked up on that early on, didn’t you?”

“Yes ma’am,” said the Agent as she tried to compose herself, “it scared me, at first, but it also turned me on.”

“And then, realizing that the gas was turning you on really turned you on, didn’t it?” asked the Director.

“Ohhh yes ma’am,” sighed the Agent. “It’s … amazing that you’d expose the staff areas to it.”

“Oh, we don’t,” answered the Director, retaking her seat behind her desk. “Not all of them. We let it leak into the control booths, of course, since we do like to keep our Agents’ cunts nice and wet and sizzly. But the company would hate to let that shit get loose up here in the executive suites.”

She turned in her chair and pulled a small vial of oily blue liquid out of a lower desk drawer.

“That’s why I keep a handful of these little guys around. I like to take a sniff or two a few times a week, just for kicks, but once in a while I give it a really long, proper hit.”

With that, the Director unscrewed the top, held the vial to her nose and drew a long, deep breath right across the top of it. She whimpered, and shuddered in her chair a little as the potent chemicals filled her lungs.

The Agent did her best to stand at attention in front of the desk, but she could feel her pulse throbbing in her clit as she watched the scene unfold.

Smirking at the Agent as the rush of the drugs surged within her, the Director upended the vial over her fingertips and spread a thin coating of the liquid across the top of her neatly trimmed mons. “Truly, my little slut,” she explained, “I don’t know whether I pity you or envy you. Probably a bit of both.”

She stared hotly at the Agent for a moment and then asked, “So, tell me Agent Becker, would you really like to become one of our cows?”

“Ohhhh, yes, ma’am,” the Agent replied as she swayed with lust. “Yes ... Mistress,” she added with a gasp, collapsing to her knees. “Yes, I … i want it more than anything...,” she gasped as her pinching fingers tortured the first few tiny droplets of milk from her aching, needful breasts.

“Good. Then crawl to me, little cow,” replied the Director, stroking her inner thighs and opening her sex as she hooked her knees over the armrests of the chair, “and see if there’s anything you can do with that tongue of yours that would convince me to arrange that for you...”