Therapy

Your Therapist smiled as you entered and walked you into her private office. There was a wooden frame waiting for you to straddle and you eagerly stripped down for it. Once securely seated, tour Therapist then strapped you in and brought out the tools for milking you; suckers powered by a car battery and a Sybian to be slid between your legs.

The pleasure began slowly, and then your milk started coming.

"Moooo," you moaned out. Your Therapist smacked your ass with a riding crop, reprimanding you for using Cow Language. "I'm sorry, I just... really don't feel like anything other than a Cow. Can't I please be bred?"

Your Therapist's eyes soften and you feel hands rubbing your udders. The people who rescued you want to see you restored to the woman you once were, but after five years, you believe that being a HuCow is what you are meant to be.

Your Therapist leaves to answer a call, when a man enters the office. You can't see who, he stays behind you. But you don't care who he is because he gives you what you need,  a fat dick up your ass.

With the Sybian rubbing your pussy and the suckers teasing your nipples, it is so easy to cum from anal. And the Mystery Man just keeps fucking more and more orgasms out of you. You let out a constant stream of mooing, which he rewards with rough groping and molestation.

Eventually, he stops and leaves, just as your Therapist returns. Somehow, your freshly fucked look goes unnoticed and they tell you again how important it is to reclaim the part of yourself that the Farm took away. You whine at the dismissal, the hot cum sitting in your guts spurring you on to loudly deny your Humanity amd your desire to remain a HuCow.

That gets you a udder spanking. Your Therapist uses their hands instead of the crop.

When the alarm goes for the end of the session, you try to convince them to keep milking you, but they again say your milking is only because of how much your udders are still producing. They spank you again, demanding you say breasts or tits,  but you're unable to think of your milk bags as anything other than udders.

You get another spanking, this time right to your fat cunt, for trying to leave without dressing. Grumbling the whole time, you **** on the dress you had brought.

Who was the man that fucked your ass? Why did he leave?