just a couple hundred words of brain vomit between long stories



Tegan mooed into her ball gag as the rough hands mauled and tugged at her enormous hanging breasts. Her breasts had the size of her head before, the envy of her friends, before she was arrested with those drugs. Now, after a year of a rich diet and almost no exercise, a year of the hormones and supplements they crammed into her to induce lactation and keep the milk flowing, to keep her producing upwards of a gallon of milk a day, they were comical, like something straight out of the lowest of sexploitation comic books. She was milked every four hours, gagged, and strapped into this barbaric milking frame, and sometimes, that wasn’t enough. Her tits swelled with milk in between those sessions, getting harder, and painful. Not sore, painful, like balloons inflated too far. They frequently leaked, leaving valuable milk on the floor, and earning her a beating after the next milking. Tegan remembered that day in court, before the judge. She thought to herself, ten years is a long time, but how bad can the life of a dairy cow really be? It had to beat the other option the judge had given her, right? Now, with one year down and nine to go, Tegan would give anything to have chosen the gas chamber. But it was too late. And Tegan knew, she was a bad person, although you never would have guessed looking at her twenty year old baby face and big blue eyes. Tegan was going to Hell when she died. And when she did, Tegan knew now what awaited her, she would leave here, live her life, die in this world, and wake right back up at the dairy farm, forever.