Crawford's "Special Facility"

Kylie couldn't really recall anything after being sedated. Her memory was hazy, all she remembered was being carried in the van, and feeling really motion sick for hours before the doors opened and she was carried out into some metal plated building. There was a lot of activity around her, and she was set down onto a padded floor, and was given something to drink that made her sleepy, and she closed her eyes.

When she woke up, Kylie was a bit disoriented. Her entire body was sore, and her clothes were different, she wasn't even wearing the cocktail dress from the night before, now she was just in a pair of tight, white booty shorts, a cow print bra, and her shoes were replaced by a pair of white, heeled cowboy boots.

"The fuuuuuck... Where am I?" She rubbed her head and then noticed her outfit. "Wait, why the hell am I dressed like this!?"

As if in response, an intercom in the wall chimed, "Hello #451, you have arrived at the Crawford Specialty Facility. You are here to be processed. Our sole duty to our customers is to provide the best possible product from the best possible employees. That means you!" It must've been some automated announcement that sensed her movement.

"Processed? What are you talking about?" She got to her feet, she had never felt more awkward in her life. The tight-fitting, cow-print bra had her large breasts spilling out, and the shorts barely fit around her hips. The intercom had nothing to reply beyond the rest of its recording.

"The processing will begin momentarily as someone comes to assist you in your journey. Thank you for choosing to work with us here at Crawford. We'll give you a moo-tivating experience." The intercom announced.

"Are you shitting me right now? What the hell is going on?" Kylie looked around her enclosure.

After a few moments, the gate in the front of the enclosure slid open. A large, muscular man in a lab coat with a clipboard entered. He didn't look too excited and even yawned as he spoke. "#451...My name is Rog Brindle, I am your trainer and will be in charge of processing you so that you can make only the highest quality milk for Crawford..."

"I-What the fuck are you talking about!?" Kylie demanded an answer and started to run up to him but found she stopped in her tracks.

The man had pressed a button on some sort of remote in his other hand without the clipboard by his pocket. He yawned again, obviously he's been through this before. "You may have noticed that you stopped against your will. At Crawford, every cow receives an inhibitor chip that can be controlled via remote to prevent behaviors that would otherwise impact their abilities to be the best cows they can be. We only want you to have a milk-tacular employment with us."

"Are you insane? You're trying to tell me that I'm some... cow!? Get the fuck out of here! I'm the CEO of Allison Dairy! You can't just-"

He pressed a different button on his remote and her speech slurred as she wobbled a bit and kneeled.

"We prefer willing cows, but if necessary, we can use the inhibitor to its fullest extent to make you docile by ****." The man pitifully glared at her before seemingly going off script. "Listen, I don't want to be that guy that goes around turning every brain of every new hire into mush, especially considering you won't be good for any sort of conversation if I did that. I'm just here doing my job, #451. Please just play along..."

"That's not...my name." She struggled to speak and felt so much weaker, and even the way she spoke sounded dumb.

Rog gave her a look of pity, "If you cooperate here and I don't end up having to use your inhibitor to make you nothing more than a dumb cow, sure, you can keep your name, but only to yourself. Here to us, you are nothing more than #451, that's company policy."

The effect of the inhibitor lost it's affect and she stood straight again. Kylie felt like crying, her situation seemed hopeless, but she couldn't let this man see that weak side of her. Maybe if she moved quick enough she could disarm that remote from him, and find some way out of here. The man was still glaring at her, with dark circles under his eyes, that could be a bad idea.

Or maybe she should play along like he said, that could be safer for now, for her mind anyways if what he said is true...