Endure the Changes

You decide once more to hold your tongue. He pulls some bright blue latex gloves out of a small cardboard box on the counter and snuggly tugs them onto his hands and arms. The end of the glove extends slightly past his elbow, curling out to make a small rim.

He then opens a drawer next to him and pulls out a small orange bottle with a white label encircling it. He then rummages through the drawer once again before producing a a large white tube with a light blue square covering the front, reading “Dragooned Dairy”. He then sets the tube and pill bottle on the counter. He pulls a Dixie cup out of a dispenser and turns on the sink. He places the paper cup under the faucet and it fills within a second. He cranks the handle and turns the sink off. He sets the filled Dixie cup on the counter and picks up the orange plastic bottle. He squeezes on the cap before twisting counterclockwise. He spins the cap until it pops off, and he breaches the cavity with his thumb and index finger. He pulls his pinched fingers out of the container, wielding a small, pale pink pill, looking to be about 100 mg. He places the pill bottle on the counter before carefully swiping the Dixie cup. He approaches you, water in one hand, pill in the other.

“Say ahh!” He he implores jovially. You lower your jaw, leaving an opening to your mouth. He places the pink tablet on your tongue, and lifts the cup to your lips. He tilts the bottom of the cup up, coaxing the water to cascade into your mouth. You feel the stream of cold water lift the medication off of your tongue where it rested, beginning to dissolve. You swallow the water, refreshing your throat, bringing the aforementioned pill along with it.

“Open wide, one more time.” The doctor requests. You open your mouth wide, creating a gaping orfice. He bobs his head slightly, so as to see every crevice of your mouth.

“Very good job!” As he turns around, he deftly swoops up the paper cup. As he walks towards the counter, he begins talking.

“That pill that you just took will play a big role. As I’m sure you are aware, hucows often need to be bred. This not only helps populate the island, the Prime Minister’s main mission, but also helps the cows produce more, richer milk. It is also seen to increase docility. The pill you swallowed will help with that. It contained genetic instructions, and they will be put in action upon reaching your reproductive system. They overwrite your eggs. They alter the genetic make up of the egg. This doesn’t change anything about the child or it’s genes, whereas it alters how eggs behave. 3 major changes occur from this pharmaceutical concoction.”

He picks up the tube of “Dragooned Dairy” and unscrews the cap. Without changing his eyesight, he unceremoniously tosses the Dixie cup behind him into a small black wire-framed rubbish bin.

“The first change that your eggs undergo is softening. The exterior shell of the eggs become much, much lighter. The sperm will have a much easier time penetrating the carapace. This, of course, means that once a bull has emptied its potent spunk deep into your uterus, the sperm are more likely to fuse with your egg and impregnate you. The second change is that just as an egg is being released from the ovaries, it undergoes binary fission. This means that menopause won’t ever occur. The last change is that the embryo will inflate to about its final size shortly. This will demand more nutrients, allowing the growth of the fetus to speed up rapidly. Instead of 9 months, a child can be birthed every 3 months. A true innovation!”

Dr. Inek seems genuinely pleased by the product.

“Now that we’ve taken care of the breeding aspect, we’ve got the real money maker left, the cash cow, if you will.” Dr. Inek chortles to himself. He approaches you with the “Dragooned Dairy” tube in hand. He points the tip of the tube at his hand, and squeegees a thick, cyan colored paste from the bottom of the tube out of the puncture onto his gloved hands.

“When this soaks through the skin and reaches the mammary glands, it gives them a hormone overload, telling them they just gave birth, triggering milk production. Keeping our cows pregnant works alongside this ointment, thus increasing the milk yield, in some cases almost twofold!”

After a thick glob of the cream is on his hand, he presses the other upon the gelatinous heap and begins lathering his hands. After he has a well spread coating of the paste on his hands, he reaches out and grabs your breast. He starts rubbing up, down, left, right, reaching every point, kneading and massaging your breast. He then repeats the action for your other breast.

“Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why you don’t feel different. The hormones gotta have some time to do their magic, sugar! Now, the hormones work best in the beginning of the body is perfectly calm and still.”

Without seeing any of it before hand, you see him quickly flash a syringe with a clear substance in it flash across your peripheral vision. You feel the thin needle plunge into your neck, and an ice cold trickle races up to your brain. You start to feel what feels like a brain freeze on steroids. Your vision shifts into tunnel vision as darkness creeps in from the sides. You give some blinks, after each your increasingly heavy eyelids open ending less and less. As you can’t open your eyelids anymore, you start to recede into the darkness of sleep. As you go, you hear a voice.

“I like you. You’ll be a great cow, Jolie Vache.”

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You slowly open your eyes to find yourself in a very dim room. You appear to be on a very old and worn mattress. Wooden walls surround you on three sides, whilst a metal gate makes up the final side. You roll onto your stomach and prop yourself up on your hands and knees. Your breasts appear to have moderately grown, but that doesn’t come close in comparison to the weight. The weight of your breasts is nearly fourfold what is was before. Shifting so that you are kneeling, sitting on your heels, you raise your hands to your breasts. It feels as though tiny strikes of lightning are dancing across the surface. My God, your breasts are sensitive. Recalling what Dr. Inek said, you give your left breast a slight squeeze. A small jet of water shoots across the pen, splashing against the wood wall just left of the gate. Shocked at your changes, you don’t even hear the gate open. You hear a _*click* _and find that a long nylon cord with a clipping hook at the end has been attached to a loop on the pink collar you just noticed you have on. You try to examine the collar, but a pull on your neck pulls you toward the gate. You quickly scamper out of the pen. The gate slams closed, a locking mechanism latching.

“They said you were supposed to be very obedient. Now prove it, slut!” A hoarse, gruff voice exclaims. He begins walking away very quickly, and you try to keep up, still getting acquainted with walking on all fours, so he’s practically dragging you by your leash. He throws open the door, and bright yellow light cascades in. You quickly trot through the halls behind him. Soon, he leads you into an enormous, industrial sized room. He leads you over to one corner. He opens the gate, leading you into a large pen, with dirt and hay covering the floor.

“All these other cows have a pink collar like you. That’s because they, just like you, are all heifers. Birth a child, and you’ll leave this herd.”

The man starts to turn and walk away. Do you call out to him and confess your identity now? You’ve gained a lot of experience. Or, then again, you can always keep diving deeper, uncovering more and more hidden truths about the industry from the inside.