The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“I want you to meet your replacement.” Eloise stood near Michelle’s cubicle, scrolling through her phone.

“Ma’am?” Michelle looked around, bewildered, but Eloise gave no explanation or follow-up.

Standing next to Eloise was Bella, another secretary that worked in the office and was an annoying and heinous bitch. Now that Michelle thought about it, they were all heinous bitches around here. The office was a lot like high school where the executives were the jocks, and the secretaries were the bimbo popular girls hovering around for their attention.

And yet somehow a stupid cow like Michelle had fallen in among the bimbos.

Bella was in a tight pencil skirt that hugged her impressive hips. She wore a matching blazer and a white shirt unbuttoned to reveal peaks of her bra. Bella was also a curvier woman like Michelle, with ample cleavage and a round face. She had curly mahogany brown hair and attractive olive skin from her Italian heritage, but her resting bitch face was purely American.

Bella’s outfit wasn’t professional, and it honestly felt a little nineties to Michelle, but she wasn’t going to say anything. She was painfully aware of the pounds she’d put on — mostly in her growing breasts — since becoming a Milk addict. It was true that she rarely ate anything anymore, but she drank Milk more than most people drank water. And though it was a grey line, she didn’t really need to ask Mrs. Wasserman for Milk anymore. Her own breasts were swollen and leaked whenever Michelle was too aroused. All she had to do was play with her clit a bit to get some Milk. That, of course, would turn her on more. Then she’d leak easily into her cup of coffee and keep going through the day.

“Hi,” Bella said. It was neither polite nor professional. There was a sneer in it that Michelle didn’t like, but her body responded to it. It reminded her of Vicki. Bella pointed at Michelle’s desk. “Am I going to have her desk? Because —”

“What do you mean my replacement?” Michelle asked Eloise.

“Your productivity’s been disgustingly low lately,” Vicki Wasserman stepped up to the cubicle. Michelle’s blood ran cold. Eloise’s wife wasn’t supposed to be here today. Michelle frantically checked her boss’s schedule. There was no sign of Vicki at all. “You spend more time in the bathroom than scheduling my wife’s appointments.”

Michelle blushed. It was true, but she thought Eloise wanted it that way. She thought she was being a good cow. Wasn’t Milk and the occasional taunting more important than these appointments anyways?

“Don’t worry,” Eloise said. “I’m sure there’s something we can find for you to do around here.”

“Maybe a janitor if she’s spending so much time in the bathrooms,” Bella said with a cheerful smile.

“Shut the fuck up, Bella.” Eloise was still scrolling. Michelle’s life was crumbling around her, and she wouldn’t deign to look at her while she ruined it. Michelle was a helpless Milk addict with a useless family, and soon she was going to be unemployed on top of everything else.

“That’s a clever idea,” Vicki said. She leaned in close and whispered, “We both know you like cleaning up other people’s messes. Their …” She leaned into Michelle’s ear, “fluids.”

But it wasn’t quiet enough, and Bella busted out laughing. Michelle looked down and away. She couldn’t take it. She thought she was winning them over. She was a stupid and useless cow, yes, but she was loyal. She was good. She thought of all the times she made the Wassermans cum. All the times she stayed late and did their laundry. All the times they said she could come to their penthouse and tidy up and she considered it. She was practically a third lover to them.

No. No she wasn’t. Cows aren’t lovers. Cows aren’t even pets. They’re animals for milking. They’re a product. That’s all Michelle was to them, and if they wanted her cleaning the bathrooms, at least she would be observed less. Maybe she could spend more time cumming and milking herself. Maybe there was an unseen benefit to all this.

Because no matter how rude they were to her, no matter how awful their words or cruel their actions, no matter how far she sank or how much they ruined her life, Michelle was still sitting in front of them, blushing and fucking soaked while they destroyed her.

Fuck, she loved it.

“Come on,” Eloise said. “We need go.”

“Fine,” Vicki said with a sigh. She put a hand on Michelle’s shoulder. “Just having a bit of fun.”

“Save it for later,” Eloise said. “Head into my office. I’ll be there in a second.”

“Ooh,” Vicki purred. “Someone’s feeling bossy.”

“Bella, can you get my wife anything she wants?”

Vicki turned her attention to Bella. “Anything?” She licked her lips. “I wouldn’t mind something a bit more exotic for a change. Italian cream in my coffee?”

“Ma’am?” Bella said while her cheeks darkened. Michelle smirked to see her bitchy replacement off balance. If she was going to work for the Wassermans, she should get used to the more-than-occasional sexual harassment.

Vicki laughed, and Michelle’s body tingled at the derisive sound. She wondered if she would ever have Vicki Wasserman laugh at her if she was a janitor. Somehow, she’d miss that. Oh, who was she kidding? Of course she’d miss it, and the warmth between her legs was an obvious indicator of why.

Eloise put a hand on Michelle’s shoulder as the other two women went into her office. “We’ll talk later,” she said. “I promise we’ll take care of you.” Her voice was uncharacteristically soft, and a new kind of warmth spread over Michelle. Not the blush of arousal, but something she hadn’t felt for years.

“I need this job,” Michelle said. Her voice was needy and pathetic, but she couldn’t find an ounce of strength under Eloise’s tenderness.

“No, you don’t.” Eloise put her hand under Michelle’s chin and lifted Michelle’s gaze up into her sharp eyes. “Cows don’t make good secretaries.”

Someone approached Michelle’s cubicle, and Eloise let go of Michelle’s chin, looking flustered. “But we will find a place for our cow,” she said, some of the firmness back in her tone. “Your milk at the very least is too valuable to waste on a janitor.”

Michelle blushed again. It wasn’t Michelle that Eloise was protecting. It was her investment. It was her cow. It was her Milk.

“Now, make sure Bella can do everything you do,” Eloise said. “But make sure she’s better. You were never a particularly good secretary.” The words stung as a slap, but Michelle’s pussy still thrummed at the insult. No. She was never a particularly good secretary, but there were other uses for her. Uses that her husband hadn’t found, that no one but Eloise and Vicki had found for her.

Did she need to teach Bella those uses as well?

The rest of the afternoon was unbearable. Bella was relentless, and Michelle couldn’t take her frequent coffee breaks to cum and Milk herself without drawing suspicion. She never realized that she spent fifteen minutes out of every hour in the bathroom, but Bella was sure to draw attention to that.

Bella was a bitch, and there was no denying that. Michelle thought she liked bitchy women, but there was a world of difference between a condescending and demeaning bitch like the Wassermans and the whiny and nagging bitch like Bella. She had a comment about everything. Not about how Michelle was worthless and pathetic (which Michelle would have preferred), but about how Michelle’s systems were stupid, silly, or inefficient. She thought Michelle was boring, which didn’t turn Michelle on at all. At least the Wassermans found her amusing. Bella was an empty shell except for her bitchiness. The Wassermans were a delightful symphony of cruelties and carnal desires in addition to their bitchiness.

Michelle knew which she preferred.

Because there was the small chance she could have enjoyed today. She had learned so much about herself in the past few months. It was entirely possible, that having someone follow Michelle around all day mocking and belittling her could have been the most erotic day of her life. Instead, it felt like she was hanging out with one of her teenage daughters while they had to comment on everything. It was exhausting.

So Michelle didn’t feel bad about the idea that popped in her head when Bella asked her how Mrs. Wasserman liked her coffee. Apparently, she fucked it up repeatedly for Vicki earlier that morning, and she wanted to know how to make both women happy.

Michelle smiled. She knew how to make both women happy, but Bella wasn’t going to like it.

Michelle used to be a good person. She used to be kind and empathetic. She would never harm a soul, and she lived by the golden rule. She treated others as she wanted to be treated. Well, if that was the case, Bella deserved to be addicted to Milk. She deserved to moo for it. Maybe she deserved to have her own aching and swollen breasts. Michelle was in tremendous pain as her breasts were full to bursting. She needed to pump or drink a gallon of coffee, but here she had another solution. Bella wanted to practice making their coffee? Fine. Michelle would she her just how the Wassermans take it.

She made a big deal about the Milk the Wassermans prefer, and then she went to the kitchen and made a bigger deal about how it was all gone. She made Bella cover her desk and practice what she’d been taught that morning while Michelle went to get more milk. Bella took it very seriously. Whatever lecture Vicki gave her that morning scared her enough to want to make the perfect coffee for Vicki.

Good.

Michelle went to her car and got to work touching herself and pumping her Milk into a glass container. She’d already broken down and bought a pump online for breastfeeding. She had to. Even when she was nursing her children, she never produced this much Milk. Even in a short day of not drinking constantly, she felt like she could produce a gallon of milk right now. Of course, that made her breasts huge. Her bras had increased by four sizes. It was a nightmare to keep replacing them thinking that she may need more in a week or two. They may keep growing until she couldn’t stand. Then she’d be forced on all four while her utters hung low.

That was the thought that sent Michelle off, picking up speed as she touched herself.

But then a new idea creepy in. What if she wasn’t alone on all fours. Sure, Bella was a bitch. Michelle didn’t want to fuck Bella. But the idea of Bella on all fours, mooing right along with Michelle was hot as fuck. She imagined the curvy Italian woman with her breasts growing, swollen with Milk. They would bust right through the loosened buttons of Bella’s top. Her cheap lace bra wouldn’t be enough to contain them. Just the sound of them snapping and popping was pushing Michelle closer to the edge. They’d burst through everything and hang low and flopping, dripping with Milk as she cried out in pain from the letdown, from the sheer amount of sacred Milk flowing through her glands.

Michelle’s mouth watered as she conjured the fantasy and held tight to it. She licked her lips, thinking of thick white milk building at the tips of Bella’s dark nipples. Yes. She needed to drink it. From the source. She’d never had Milk from the source. She’d wrap her lips around Bella’s tits and suckle, mooing as the buttery sweet milk ran down her lips, down her chin, and down her throat. Bella would moo as she felt the relief of the pressure mingled with the sensation of a woman worshipping her tit. Yes. Fuck. Yes. So much mooing.

Michelle mooed as she came in her car, and the tubes of the pump turned white as a solid stream of milk shot from her breasts, filling the container she had. She had to grip the side of the car as the fantasy rolled over her. God, it was so fucked up. She wouldn’t wish her life on anyone. It was wonderfully awful. She was demeaned and taken advantage of. She was abused and addicted. She was helpless and fat. She was needy and stupid.

Fuck, she was happy.

Bella was going to thank her in the end. That’s what she decided as she showed the milk to Bella, as she crafted a simple lie about why it was still warm and how the Wasserman’s liked it. She relished the smug look Bella had on her face as she walked into Eloise’s office and headed to her demise, and she practically mooed when Bella came back out looking defeated and embarrassed.

The Wassermans don’t take Milk in their coffee.

And as history repeats itself, Eloise made Bella drink it in front of her. She even spilled some on her blouse, staining its perfect whiteness with a caramel-brown mark of her doom.

“Fucking cunt,” Bella muttered as she sat back down next to Michelle.

“A harmless prank,” Michelle said. “A little hazing never hurt anyone.”

“Fuck you.”

“The same thing happened to me, but it was Mrs. Wasserman’s game. If you want to work for her, you need to know want kind of woman she is.”

“As I said, Fuck. You.”

Michelle shrugged. Any guilt she felt about this was quickly fading away. “Well, that Milk was like fifty bucks a gallon, so if you ever want any, it’s all yours in the fridge.”

“You spent fifty bucks on a prank?”

“Again, it’s kind of a tradition,” Michelle said. “It’s what Mrs. Wasserman did to me.”

Bella rolled her eyes. “I don’t drink coffee. Or milk.”

“Right.” Michelle focused back on her work. “Of course.”

She didn’t feel bad taking her regular bathroom breaks after that. But she didn’t call them bathroom breaks. She said they were independent practice, a chance for Bella to try flying solo. But that didn’t stop Bella from giving her shit about them and calling her lazy for making her trainee do her job.

“No wonder they’re firing you,” Bella said.

Michelle smiled wide. “You’ll be a great replacement,” she said.

Then she went to the bathroom and furiously came to the idea of Bella mooing in a few weeks. Michelle didn’t know what the Wassermans had in store for her future, but she knew exactly what they were going to do with Bella. She couldn’t wait to watch her smug brattiness get tamed by Eloise. Or Vicki. Fuck. Michelle came most often imagining Vicki lecturing Bella, making her cry, and then asking why Bella was touching herself and weeping at the same time, and oh, god, why did she reek of spoiled milk? Why was her bra stained? Were her panties stained too? Jesus Christ, Bella, what the fuck is wrong with you?

And then the stupid cunt would moo for her new Mistresses.

All that masturbating and pumping wasn’t enough to alleviate the pressure. Michelle’s silly fantasy of Bella bursting through her top and bra didn’t feel so ridiculous as Michelle drove home. She had to alter her seatbelt because the slightest pressure on her breasts made her cry out in pain. She thought seriously about driving home topless and braless. Even the fabric felt like too much. She settled for braless, but that meant her nipples were leaking all over her shirt. When she finally arrived home, it looked like she’d been standing out in the rain.

But James didn’t notice.

No one noticed.

Michelle rolled her eyes and went upstairs to put on a baggy sweatshirt that used to belong to her husband. She didn’t need James (or her daughters) asking why her chest was huge and swollen these days, and she didn’t want anything touching them. If only she could cook topless. She got the lasagna in the oven, and then wanted to head upstairs to cum again, but she doubted that would help. It felt like no amount of cumming and pumping was going to relieve her pain. It was getting out of control.

Besides, she was distracted by the pile of medical bills on the kitchen table.

As much as she wanted to cum, she couldn’t deny that her family was drowning in debt. The kind she could spend her whole life working to pay off, and even that may not be enough. And she had just spent the day training her replacement? She was fucked, and not in the fun way. If she lost this job and her new job paid less — hell, even if it paid the same — she would never get out of this hole without James working as well. And he was doing worse, not better. Everything was getting worse, not better. While Michelle was distracting herself with orgasm after orgasm and late nights with the Wassermans, her world was falling apart. She needed money, fast.

Unsurprisingly, her first thought was sex work. She could get a webcam. She knew plenty of men online were into huge tits, and hers were becoming comically large. It would be hard for anyone to believe they were natural at this point. But she had no idea how she could hide it from James or her kids as they stayed up later and later and got nosier and nosier. And the shame of them catching her was nothing like the electric shame of Eloise catching her or Vicki mocking her.

A fifty-dollar bottle.

The thought caught her off-guard, but it was perfect.

Dangerous.

But perfect.

Besides, she was already in deep. Too deep. She knew she couldn’t resist the Wassermans. It wouldn’t take much for them to break her. What would she hold back from them? What would she deny them? They were going to fire her for nothing, nothing but what they did to her, and she was training her replacement. If Eloise asked her to get her drugs, would she do it? Of course she would. She’d hesitate, but then her boss would talk to her in the matter of fact and condescending tone that seemed to turn off Michelle’s mind. In a heartbeat, she’d do whatever they wanted. Was this any different? It was certainly safer, even if it didn’t have the overwhelming control of the Wassermans. Michelle could figure this out. She could climb out of this hole her husband had dug for them.

She could sell her Milk.

After dinner and pumping two full glass bottles of Milk, Michelle made some excuse about needing to pick something up at the store before work the next day and got in the car. She knew the way already. Before she started producing her own product, she’d driven here weekly until she did it daily until she did twice a day. Her dealer. Back to the manor in the middle of the suburbs. He wasn’t selling heroine or coke, so he could deal out in the open. And clearly, he was making incredible money from it.

Money Michelle could be making.

She knocked on the doorbell and rubbed her hands on her sweatpants, nervous. Nerves made her leak, and she crossed her arms as best she could over her swollen breasts to hide the blossoming milk stains on her nipples. The glass battles in the plastic bag she had jingled.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered to herself. “When this takes off, you can masturbate for a living.” She nodded, getting a business plan in place. She could rent out an office and set up a camera streaming service. She knew some men would gladly pay to watch her lactate and touch herself. She could make money while she was making money. Perfect. She could even stick to it as a night job whenever she was done with whatever the Wassermans had in mind for her.

The door opened, and her dealer stood in the doorway. He was put together and smiling like he expected her, but that was how he always greeted her. He had thick horn-rimmed glasses, a navy-blue sweater vest over a white button-up, and a cup of coffee. He was white, middle-aged, and he had a thick mustache. He looked like someone’s dad, but he was her dealer. For months he had been a god to her, but she never had learned his name. She never got past his doorstep. She was never here longer than five minutes.

“Fifty bucks,” he said as he took a sip of his coffee. He had a thick Minnesota accent Michelle could have found charming if she weren’t freaking out.

“No, I’m not buying.” Lowering her arms took considerable force of will as it revealed two dark spots where her nipples met the sweatshirts. “I’m selling.”

“Oh really?” He took another sip as he arched an eyebrow. He cocked his head as he was trying to think of something. “I guess that fits the timeline.”

“Timeline?”

“Never mind,” he said with a shake of his head. “You have a sample?”

Michelle lifted the plastic bag. Again, the glass bottles clinked inside. Once more, he cocked his head, but this time beckoning her inside before he took another sip. “Come on. We don’t need to do this on the porch.” He left the door open and went deeper into his house. Michelle noticed he was wearing slippers and slacks. Somehow, all this simple innocence put her more on edge. She found it impossible to believe he wasn’t going to chop her up in there.

“Can we do it out here?” she called after him.

“I’m not drinking that shit,” he called back. “Besides, my girls know the taste best.”

“Girls?”

But he didn’t answer. She was frozen on his porch while the warm light of his cozy home washed over her. A car’s headlights rolled past her, and she wondered how this looked. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t going to go into his house because this looked bad. She was trying to sell her breast milk while her enormous tits were leaking all over her sweatshirt. It was impossible to look good.

She waited for him to come back. She needed more information. She didn’t even know his name for Christ’s sake. She stared into his house and looked at some of the pictures hanging on the wall. He had a family and kids, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t murder her. Fathers and husband have been murderers before. They had adorable curvy wives with strawberry-blonde hair and …

“Holy shit,” Michelle whispered as she stepped into her dealer’s house. She went past the huge staircase that went straight through the second floor to the third. There, in an adorable picture, was her dealer planting a kiss on Vicki Wasserman’s cheek. She reached out and held it. It was Vicki. It had to be. Curvy. Sultry. Even as Michelle’s dealer kissed Vicki in the picture, Vicki looked bored. She was above this. She was above all of them.

“The ex,” the dealer said as he re-emerged. “And now the boss.”

“The boss?” Michelle asked.

The dealer nodded and took another sip. “This was all her idea, though if you’re FBI, I’ve never seen her before in my life.” He smirked, and Michelle’s blood went cold. “Just fucking with you. Jesus, she knows how to pick ’em. I mean, she has a type, you know?” He shrugged and took another sip of his coffee. “All of my girls start out the same. Awfully nervous for a cow.”

“A cow?” Michelle shivered as tingles ran over her scalp.

“Come on.” He put down his coffee and took the picture from Michelle’s hand. He put it back on the wall. “Girls are in the barn.” He held out his hands defensively. “Not my name for it, mind you. Vicki’s, I guess. It just stuck. It’s really quite nice.”

“What is this place?” Michelle whispered, looking all around. There were other pictures of her dealer, but he was with a different woman and three boys. A first wife? A wife after Vicki? Was there life after Vicki? Michelle couldn’t imagine it.

“Welcome to the Farm,” Vicki’s ex-husband said. “You can call me Hank.”

“Hi, Hank,” Michelle said. She extended a hand and offered it before she could think better of it. Hank took it and smiled. “I’m Michelle.”

“Know that too,” Hank said with a warm smile. “We keep track of all our buyers in case they get in a little too deep and we lose our investment.”

“Investment?”

“Come on,” he said with a tilt of his head. “We got customers upstairs. Best not to dawdle here. Let’s go to the Barn.”

“Uh, sure.”

“Bring the milk. The girls will love it.”

“Right.”

Michelle followed him through the door and into what looked like an open kitchen crossed with an office. There was a secretary at a desk that offered Michelle something to drink, but she refused. There were men sitting on couches in a sitting nearby living room watching television, and some men were standing in the kitchen chatting.

“When are they going to be ready, Hank?” One of them asked as they walked through.

“We just gotta pre-game,” Hank said. He pointed a thumb back at Michelle. “She’s got the goods.”

There was a general murmur of approval as Michelle walked through the kitchen and out the backdoor to a huge yard with a massive garage or … barn, sitting in the middle of it. There were two men in suits standing in front of the barn looking intimidating, but they nodded at Hank and opened the door for him.

“Evening, boys,” he said. He turned around and beckoned Michelle to follow. She wanted to, but she didn’t know what she was getting into. She didn’t know if she could handle it. But she was already this far, and now her curiosity was piqued. What did this have to do with Vicki? Was the Milk a plan for Michelle the whole time? Did they drug Michelle knowing what it would do to her? Was her recent Milk production part of that too? Is that what she signed Bella up for?

Michelle followed, but the building wasn’t really a barn at all. It was a hotel. Or apartment building. There were rows upon rows of doors. More men in suits stood at the end of each door and there were stairs that led up to a second floor, but that was it. There was a strange and welcoming scent coming from the second floor, like a scented candle of butter scotch or something nostalgic.

“See?” Hank said. “Harmless. Let’s go upstairs and see the girls.”

Hank went up to the second floor, and Michelle followed. She heard voices. Nine or so. All of them women. Talking. Laughing. The welcoming smell washed over Michelle and eased her nerves. They rose to a common room with several make-up tables and mirrors like a theater dressing room, clothes on racks like a fashion show, couches with snacks and drinks on them. It felt like she was in a green room for professional actors and dancers.

Except for the eight completely naked women laughing and talking as though this was a typical day.

Girls naked with impossibly huge and swollen tits

Tits leaking.

That was the smell.

It was the Milk.

But not her Milk.

“Hank!” said one of the girls, a curvy Latina woman with dark nipples dripping tiny pearls of white. “Can we get to work? My tits are killing me.”

“Oh hello,” said another with fiery red hair, pale skin, and freckles everywhere. Everywhere. Her voice was husky and made Michelle’s skin tingle with delight. Or fear. Or desire. “A new girl, Hank?”

“Potentially,” Hank said. He reached back to Michelle. “Give me the stuff.” Michelle handed him the two bottles of milk. He raised it up and showed it to the girls. “First a taste test.”

All the bubbly and welcoming nature of the girls vanished. All at once, it was as though he had dropped blood into shark-infested waters. They stopped doing their hair or makeup and came to him hungry, focused, and dangerous.

“I need to know if it’s genuine stuff,” Hank said. He opened one bottle, and a soft moan filled the room. Michelle felt she had stepped out of a theater and into a temple where some big breasted priestesses were about to lead her to worship.

Her body tingled at the idea.

“That’s a good sign,” Hank said.

“Give it to me,” the Latina said. A small stream of milk was steadily leaking from her left breast. “Now.”

The tingle spread all over Michelle’s body.

“Yeah,” said a blonde with perfect curly ringlets. “Let us taste it, Hank. We’ve been good.”

“You cunts act like you can’t get it whenever you want,” said one woman with tan skin, tight muscles, and bright purple hair.

“But this is new,” said another with bright blue hair. She looked the same as the other because …

“Twins,” Michelle whispered.

The tingling centralized, swirling over her hard nipples and soaked pussy.

Hank handed the bottle to the Latina, and she took a small sip. She moaned as it hit her tongue, and then she took a longer sip. Then a gulp. The purple-haired girl reached for it, but the Latina was fast and kept it to herself.

“Share, bitch,” the purple-haired girl said.

Other girls lunged for the bottle, and there was more fighting, more cussing. Hank tried to calm them down by offering the second bottle. They pounced on it, but he should have brought eight bottles if he was going to make them all happy. The milk ran down their lips and chins, down their necks. They moaned as they drank. They yanked it from each other, and it spilled to the floor. One girl started licking the floor, and Michelle’s knees went soft. She knew that need. She knew that desperation. She thought she was the only one, but she wasn’t. She was just like them.

She was one of Vicki’s girls.

The thought made her head spin. This was going to be her new job. She knew it now. She knew what the Wassermans had been planning for her. She watched as one woman rubbed the milk against her breasts, moaning as she turned her skin milky white. Another was rubbing it between her legs and —

How had Michelle never thought of that before?

“I’d rather just have mine from the source,” said the husky redhead. She slunk towards Michelle with her hips swaying back and forth. Michelle found herself nodding, but she didn’t know why. She couldn’t mean it. She wasn’t going to take her top off and let this woman suck her nipple, was she? She wasn’t going to —

Hank’s watch beeped, and he looked down at it. “Showtime girls.” He turned to Michelle. “Looks like the stuff is genuine. I’ll give thirty bucks a bottle. Sound good?”

Michelle tried to focus on him, but the redhead was still easing her way closer. She licked her lips, and Michelle wanted to be the lips. She wanted to be the tongue. The tingles were everywhere, and she felt so alive, like she was ready to burst. The pressure between her legs, in her breasts, in her mind, was overwhelming. She was tired of holding it back. She wanted to flow not leak. Milk was running down her huge breasts and over her stomach. Even though she had her clothes on, she must have looked like one of the girls: a horny, moaning, leaking, big titted, desperate, stupid, cow.

Because she was one of Vicki’s girls, even if she hadn’t accepted it yet.

The redhead stood in front of Michelle, and Hank was still staring at them, waiting for his answer. “Sound good?” he said, but his voice was just the background. The girls were moaning and drinking Michelle’s Milk. It came from her body, and they worshipped it. That meant they were worshipping her, right? It was a room filled with beautiful women worshipping her, and he wanted to pay her on top of it. She could get paid to feel this way.

She should get paid to feel this way.

“Yeah, sugar,” the redhead said. She was close enough to kiss. Close enough to that Michelle could pinch her nipples and make the Milk flow. The smell already filled the room. The sweetest smell on earth: Milk. “Does it sound good?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Michelle said breathlessly. It did sound good. “Yeah.” She licked her lips and the redhead smirked, her lips twitching to one side. It was bitchy enough to make Michelle’s knees soften. She wanted to sink to her knees and surrender, to give everything over to these girls. The lines of Milk were running down the redhead’s pale skin to her pussy. It wouldn’t be the first time Michelle was desperate enough for Milk that she sank to licking pussy.

“Good. Let me get the cash,” Hank said. “Then I gotta get these girls to work. The guys are waiting, and they’re all riled up. Gotta strike while the iron is hot, you know?”

“Um … yeah.” Hank felt miles away. Michelle couldn’t look away from the heat of the redhead. She had narrow green eyes and thin eyebrows. Her lips were pursed and thin. Her hair was bright orange fire, and her face was humorless and cold. She would have made a perfect Celtic queen. Or a witch. Yes. She was the villain in some fairytale Michelle wanted to live in.

“You thirsty, hun?” the redhead asked.

“Let her be, Tatiana,” Hank said. “You got three customers waiting for you already. Go to your room.”

“But look at her, Hank.” Tatiana ran a hand over Michelle’s face, caressing the older woman’s cheek with the back of her hand. “She looks parched.” Michelle leaned into the strokes of Tatiana’s hand, whimpering softly.

“Yeah, I don’t have time for an orgy, especially one no one’s paying for.”

Tatiana leaned in closer and whispered, “You know another girl’s Milk is always so much better than your own.”

Michelle nodded. She knew. Her Milk was fine. It satiated her maddening thirst, but it wasn’t as good as the product she was buying before. That must have belonged to one of the girls here. Could it have been Tatiana’s milk she’d been drinking this whole time? Was Tatiana the one that got her hooked on the stuff? That turned her into a stupid cow like this?

Hank clapped his hands, and the moaning in the background died down a bit. “Alright, ladies. Showtime. Glad to see you all warmed up. Let’s make the boss some money.” There was the sound of shuffling feet, but Tatiana didn’t look away from Michelle, and while she stood in her gaze, Michelle couldn’t move. “Brigitte, grab your bottle, hun. Yeah, and the pump too, Jesus.”

“I gotta go,” Tatiana said with a sad shrug. “But you look like you need to unwind.”

Michelle nodded.

Tatiana laughed. It was cruel and music to Michelle’s ears. Without hesitation, she leaned in and gave Michelle a sweet kiss on the lips. It was quick and easy, but Michelle had never kissed a woman before. The Wassermans would never stand for it, and honestly, Michelle had never thought of it before. She was Milk-sexual if anything. She didn’t think she cared for the body parts.

But she cared for Tatiana’s parts.

Her lips were delicate and sweet. A tiny slip of tongue over Michelle’s lips and her Milk was flowing freely from her breasts. But Tatiana wasn’t going to ignore that. She slipped her hand under Michelle’s soaked sweatshirt and casually grabbed the older woman’s swollen tits as though they were her own. Michelle arched her back and moaned as more milk squirted from her nipples, coating Tatiana’s hands and ruining Michelle’s clothing. The redhead laughed again, and Michelle loved it. She wanted to die listening to that sound.

But the ecstasy of Tatiana’s touch didn’t last. She pulled her hands away and showed them covered in milk. Then, in slow and languid strokes, she licked her hands clean. She stared at Michelle the whole time, never breaking eye contact as the rest of the girls filed out of the room and Hank filled Michelle’s hands with sixty dollars.

“Come find me when you’re ready. I’ll give you one ride for free.” She ran her eyes over Michelle’s body with an arched eyebrow. “You look like a fun fuck,” she said before walking away. She did it as easily as making a coffee date, and Michelle waited until Tatiana was downstairs before sinking to her knees and moaning. She was alone in the Barn, unsure where Hank was but she didn’t care. Her hands were in her panties before she could stop herself, fingering her soaked pussy while her Milk kept flowing and —

“Hello cow,” said a voice behind her that sent shivers over her body and froze her hand. Hell, it froze her Milk. “I hear you’re about to be out of a job,” Vicki said as she sank down and ran a hand over Michelle’s cheek. “Looking for a new opportunity?”