Reluctantly become a Paisley specimen

"I don't see any choice," you say. "I will become a specimen."

Miss Swift nods and leaves the room. She later returns with lots of papers for you to sign. Your pups are growing restless and it is hard to concentrate. Finally, she leaves you alone and you are allowed to get some more sleep.

When you awake you are no longer in the hospital, instead you are in a small, cave-like enclosure of shaped concrete designed to look like a stone. There is straw on the floor and the smell of a lupine in the air. You rise with difficulty and crawl out of the fake cave. There is a small hill of grass and a few sparse trees. The sky overhead looks real, but after a moment of study you realize it is some sort of huge screen or projection.

Walls of glass enclose the area, reflecting back your awful condition as you stand just outside the cave. You are pale and poorly groomed, your blond hair hanging tangled and limp. Your breasts are huge and heavy with milk and your nipples have similarly grown large and fat. Your mound is covered in a thatch of blond hair that follows the lower curve of your hugely stretched belly.

"This is a cage," says Maul, startling you with his nearness. "The humans have brought us here as their playthings."

"I am sorry," you say and you quickly explain the bargain you struck. Maul does not reply when you are finished with the telling. He hangs his head and walks back into the cave. Later, your curl beside him and he does not move.

The birthing is painful for you, lasting hours of labor, each pup sliding out of you easier than a human baby, but still with much pushing. There are five pups in all and they suckle when you hold them against your chest.

"They are well," says Maul. "I see us both in them."

With your pups and your sorrowful mate, Maul, your life of captivity develops a regular routine. You nurse your pups and serve your mate as much as he will allow, grooming his fur and, after several days, pleasing him with your hand. He closes his eyes and yips as his cock spurts onto the false stones of the cave. The Paisley crew feeds you from an overhead chute, dropping piles of meat and vegetables and fruits into your enclosure.

After two weeks your milking begins. Two Paisley orderlies arrive in the enclosure with shock pistols. You warn Maul to stay back and accompany them to a milking room. You get onto your hands and knees, your creamy tits dangling heavily beneath you, and you are secured in place by locking arms around your chest just beneath your breasts and around your back just above your hips.

The orderlies attach the rubber gaskets of the milk pumps to your fat nipples. They hold them against your titflesh and activate the suction and the pumps begin a rhythmic snapping, pulling your sensitive nipples into the tubes and stretching them. Your milk soon begins to flow, filling the chambers of the pump and draining into tube that transfer your hybrid milk to a waiting container. You are naked for the entire process. Adding to your humiliation, the steady stimulation of your nipples and the gushing of milk begins to turn you on.

"Good amount today," notes one of the orderlies as your pumping cycle finishes. "Eat your protein and keep it coming. This stuff is like liquid gold for the science team."

You return to the enclosure and sleep, hoping your milk will refill before your pups become too hungry. It is like this day after day, until the days become weeks. Finally, you receive a message.

"Tomorrow you will be asked to demonstrate for the students in the 301 Monster Defense course," says the attending orderly, reading from a printed sheet of paper. He looks at you as your breasts sway and the milk pumps from your tits and into the container. "Sounds like you're going to get to have a little fun. Try not to get those beautiful tits hurt."

He reaches out and gives your closest breast a rough squeeze, laughing as your milk sprays into the cylinder of the pump. He gives you a resounding and stinging smack on your ass and then departs while your cycle is completed. Your mind wanders in the embrace of the milking machine. You wonder what awaits you tomorrow.