Charlotte
Hot, searing pain lances through my breasts and digs into my spine in a relentless, undulating wave of agony. Humans were never meant to endure anything like this. I’d bet even in the worst prisons on Earth there is at least a small reprieve from discomfort. Not here, it seems. Not on Icora.
But then, it hasn’t been like this the whole time. There were blessed moments where I could lie down and rest without feeling as if my skin was trying to peel itself from my body. Not today, though. For some reason, today is far different.
As it is, with every breath, every shudder, every tiny inhale of stale air, my body aches and throbs. Even running my artificial hooves over the swollen flesh as I press the edges into the hot tissues only causes the suffering to increase until my sobs lie heavy on my tongue. But I can’t cry out. If they hear me, they’ll only make things worse.
And so, I kneel there, my body hunched over as the heavy weight of my milk-laden breasts drags me forward, curving my spine as fatigue sets in. I know they want me prim and proper, ramrod as I wait for them to relieve me. But I can’t. I can’t hold myself upright as the pain pulls at me, urging me to just lie down and breathe.
Unfortunately, the frigid floor beneath my knees does nothing but add to the ache, making my entire body seize up and with hard, spastic spasms as I do my best to regulate. But there is no regulating. There’s nothing but darkness, pain, and milk.
It dribbles out of my nipples and onto the floor, wasting the precious liquid. It doesn’t help the pain, though. No matter how much it comes out, the discomfort is still there. It still robs me of breath as the torment is just relentless.
Even though I’m not purposefully forcing the milk from my body, each little splatter still sends a frisson of terror down my spine. Will they hurt me for wasting their product? Will they make me pay somehow?
My ears attune to every sound around me, hoping for a hint that someone, anyone, is coming to help me. Or worse, coming to punish me? Granted, at least I’ll possibly lose less milk if they can come in and help in some way.
But even now, I can’t even fathom when they’ll be here. Since I was brought to this ranch and shoved into this room, time has no meaning. The hours are marked by the milkings, feedings, and eventual small ray of sun that shines through a slit near the roof. The minutes go on as I chase that small beam of light until it disappears. The seconds tick on by the engorging of my breasts and the insistent tingling of my nipples.
It’s hurt before. Dear God, the agony has been unlike any I’ve known on Earth, but this is different. Have I done something wrong? Are they punishing me?
As I finally lower myself fully to the stone floor, I squeeze my eyes shut as I do my best to think through the last days, weeks, months to try to make sense of what’s happening around me. But nothing comes to mind. Whether or not it’s because I’ve not done anything wrong or because I simply cannot think past the pain, I don’t know.
Everything’s blurry.
Everything’s fuzzy.
Everything fucking hurts.
Square breathing. That’s all I have to do. I whisper in my mind. You’ve been here before. You’ve gotten out. You can do it again.
Even through the pain, the bitterness rises so fast I nearly gag on it as I draw my knees up, putting me as close to a fetal position as my massive breasts will allow. I didn’t get out. I didn’t escape. I was fucking abducted.
I traded one abusive asshole for another. The only difference is these monsters actually give me pleasure along with the pain. It doesn’t matter that they’re so medically detached, that they’re only doing it because my milk tastes better this way. For a few blessed minutes, everything else fades away as I lose myself in the drawing of my milk and the pounding in my pussy by unfeeling, uncaring dildos attached to a sex machine.
These aliens are cruel, but until now, I’ve never really suffered. Not like this. Not where I’m practically writhing on the floor, begging for it to stop.
I must have done something wrong. That’s the only thing that can explain this away. But what? I’ve never spoken a word out loud. I’ve only mooed. I’m always in my spot, ready to be milked when they come in. To my knowledge, I’ve never hesitated or been late once.
My fingers tremble as I reach back and feel around my ass as best as I can with my hoof. The tail is still there, still aching as it stretches out my back hole, so it can’t be that. Have I maybe talked in my sleep, and they heard it? That’s absurd, though. Or maybe? Until I hear it from them, I’ll never know.
While awake, I know for sure that I haven’t spoken to them. Even in the quiet of my confines, I haven’t uttered a single word to anyone, even myself. Does my voice even work anymore?
Yes, I can moo, but can I make words? Human fucking words. As much as I want to try, as much as I want to test out my vocal cords, I don’t dare. I can’t handle any more pain. I just need it to stop.
I need everything to stop.
But my mind refuses to stop.
There must be something else, some unspoken rule I didn’t even know about. Edgar never hurt me unless I upset him somehow. But what did I do? What could I have possibly done to earn this neglect?
Dragging in a shaky breath, I force myself to draw air into my lungs for four counts, hold it for four, release it for four, then hold for four again. Over and over I do this, trying my best to get my heart to settle, but it doesn’t work. Terror and frustration rake through my body, adding a layer of panic that amps up the agony flitting through me with every painful breath.
Tears slip from my eyes as I curl in even tighter. No sounds assault my ears except each haggard breath that escapes my lips. But then, that’s not really unusual either. After the auction, I was with several other humans. We huddled together, finding solace in our shared fate.
Only, once we arrived at the ranch, we were processed and separated. I never saw another one after that. I have never heard another human sound since that day. It’s been these four walls and darkness.
Hopefully soon the sun will rise enough to give a touch of light, a hint of warmth to the room. It won’t be for a long time yet. Usually it takes a while after I’ve been milked before there’s even a hint of a glow.
Did I just wake up early? Is that why this is taking so long?
My stomach growls in protest as my bowels and bladder scream for relief. Any moment now. Soon, they’ll take care of me. Soon, I’ll be able to be drained, relieve myself, and be hosed down in the corner.
Even as those thoughts fly through my mind, I wonder if it will actually happen. Either my breasts are engorging far faster than usual, or the Ranchers are late. They’re never late. At least, based on my discomfort level, they’re never this late. It’s never gotten to this point before.
Glancing over to where I know the patch of grass is, I war within myself as I lie there, silently begging, praying, and hoping someone will come soon. My bladder screams at me as time drifts by in unknown increments. Even though I squeeze my thighs together, I know deep down I can’t stave it off for much longer.
What the hell do I do? Again, I look over where I think the corner is, my body trembling as I rise on shaky arms. As I remember it, they never gave a hard and fast rule about using the grass when they’re not there to assist me. Only that all bathroom activities happen there. There are no toilets here on Icora. At least not for humans.
Well... cows.
Because that’s all I am right now.
A dumb cow.
My lips twitch into a ghost of a smile as a sarcastic sense of self-recrimination beats at my insides. Edgar always did call me a dumb cow. I just never even imagined a world where that would be my reality.
A soft whimper finally escapes my tight lips as I roll over onto my hands and knees so I can crawl to where the grass has to be. Unfortunately, the moment I’m upright, I tip back, landing hard on my side as my muscles refuse to support me. The jar ripples through my body, releasing an agonizing cry into the space.
It echoes back at me, slamming against my ears as if, for once, I’m not alone in this pit of misery. As sad as it is, it’s comforting. At least a little bit. In this moment, I can pretend there are others around me, howling out their pain and fear in solidarity with me.
But just as soon as it rings out into the room, it’s gone again, leaving me so utterly alone. Tears come in earnest, hot and heavy as I lie there, unable to move, unable to fully breathe. Pain continues to pound at every inch of me, leaving me a writhing mass of torment.
I squeeze my thighs together, hoping to stave off the inevitable, hoping they’ll finally come and help me. Soft moos drip from my lips, sounding just as needy and pathetic as I feel. When no one comes, I do it again, louder this time. Can’t they see I’m in distress? Can’t they hear my need and pain?
But still, the door remains firmly shut.
Fire licks me from my hips up to my lower abs as I clench and strain, desperately trying to not wet myself. As time ticks by, however, I slowly lose the fight as my muscles finally give out and everything relaxes. This time, I don’t care who the fuck hears me as sobs wrench from my throat and pepper the air.
Misery threads through every breath as everything finally lets go. Hot urine coats my inner thighs and drips onto the floor, adding to my humiliation. I can’t stop it, even as much as I want to. It just keeps going in a hard stream that puddles under my body.
Tears drip from my eyes and slide down my cheeks, coating my face and neck until it mingles with the milk slowly easing from my nipples. Silent sobs wrack my body until every inch of me trembles. Still, no one comes. No one helps. No one even cracks the door open to check on me.
Alone.
Desolate.
Tormented.
As I lie there, my brain chugging along through the pain, another sensation prickles over my body. Heat fills the room, rising as the soft glow of the sun beams in through the top slit. At first, I blink at it, unable to fully process what I’m seeing.
If the sun is starting to rise that high, then I’m not just feeling this pain early. Dear God in heaven. What has happened? Why is no one here?
Though I’m not typically prone to letting my imagination run wild, I can’t help but picture all those sci-fi films Edgar made me watch with him. Especially the ones with warring factions.
I know nothing about this planet. No one has given me any details about Icora or its politics, so I have no clue what could be happening here.
Are they at war with another planet? Is there possibly a plague that can wipe them out but keep the humans alive? Am I going to die all alone in this cell?
Determination races through me as I try again to get onto my hands and knees. Blinding pain rips through my breasts with any amount of movement until all I can do is scream out as I drag myself across the floor.
It’s impossibly far. Even with the sun illuminating the space, it still seems so far away. As my fingertips dig into the stone, shards of pain zip up through my nails and into my arms. I can’t make it. I won’t make it.
As much as I don’t want to die here, I find that I can’t fight much more against the burning raking through my body, making everything weak, fatigued, and quivering. Most of all, my breasts drag against the floor, which makes the torment even worse.
Honestly, I’d probably be fine if not for that.
Everything stops as a dull ringing buzzes in my ear. Darkness encroaches my vision as I reach out, so close, yet so far from the door. If I can just reach a little further, I can possibly touch it, possibly bang against it. Even if it’s a warring alien race, they’d at least put me out of my misery. Right?
Or could they do even worse than the blue monsters holding me captive? “Please,” I manage to whisper, the word sounding hoarse and foreign to my ears. “Please, someone help me.”
