Jason Shaw hunches over his desk, illuminated solely by his dull desk lamp. He tangles his fingers through his hair as budgets and figures blur before him, and the stress builds to a pounding at the base of his skull. He sighs and leans back. His tie is crumpled and undone on a pile of manila folders, tossed aside much earlier in the night, his shirt halfway undone and revealing the white undershirt beneath. He glances out the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. The blinds are so slightly ajar as to see the parking lot at the base of the building. He counts few cars remaining, and assumes it's him, janitorial staff, and some of Amelia's interns trying to stay ahead.
The board members' disapproving, wrinkled faces haunt him. With only one week until their meeting, one of the biggest of his life as they examine everything he's done in his first year as CEO in his father's place, Jason doesn't dream of going home at five. Instead, here he is at nine-thirty, going over the same reports for the fifth time. If Tommy were here, he'd call him stir crazy and force him out to a bar, and Jason wouldn't mind the distraction. But, that's far too rowdy for someone with this much riding on his successes. Instead, Jason peels himself out of his desk chair and decides to take a walk.
He winds down the halls leading to other executive offices, whole wings dedicated to the necessary areas of running their company. All their lights are long since darkened and the walkways are only lit with the few bulbs required for the cleaning crew. Jason crosses the skyway, a glass walkway separating his side from more clerical work, like HR and accounting. He scans his keycard and takes their elevator to the base floor, ground level. He paces pass the empty lobby and through the cafeteria, stopping to investigate the kitchen. Large burlap bags marked "FEED" catch his interest, and quickly lose it as he realizes it's the raw, cut grass fed to his cows. Jason marches past the other well-labeled bags of nutrients and hormones used to bind their grass into chewable clumps, as well as the clear vats of pink powder the lab produced and handed off to the meal preppers. It had something to do with milk production or docility, Jason doesn't remember.
He finds the stairwell and takes himself a level below ground where McCarthy's lab, interns, and exam office function. He hears the quiet tinkling of glass and typing, and passes four interns focused on their work. Three of them don't look up or acknowledge his footsteps, and the fourth quickly pretends he doesn't recognize Shaw, too embarrassed to greet the man in charge. Jason laughs to himself under his breath and keeps on his route, rounding corners until he comes to a slow stop.
He stands before the glass walls of what was Essie's pod just a week ago. Jason spent those four weeks watching quietly from live security footage as Essie followed his voice deeper and deeper into her program. Watching her lose herself and find her new purpose, all while his words echoed in her mind, was exhilarating. He almost wanted to start over and do it all again, if he only had the time. Instead, Jason paces down the next pod, and the next, and the next. There are five pods waiting at any given moment for a new entry, and when they're taking new applicants, the turnover rate is extraordinary. Well, when working within the usual timeframe. Jason chuckles, and moves for the exit. He might as well pack up and go home, knowing he won't get anything more done this late into the night.
Or, he can take one last lap. Jason, instead, turns for the barn. He scans his keycard once again, and enters the simulated darkness. Rows of cows are tucked sweetly into the fetal position, all resting under lighting meant to resemble the night sky. In reality, the lights are dimmed to broadcast through dark blue bulbs and emulate a night under the moon and stars. Jason nearly trips on the clear tubing that pushes the girls' milk out to the bottling and assembly line. He rights himself with a hand on one creaky gate, and freezes as the cow inside snorts herself back to sleep. He begins to feel drowsy himself under the specialty bulbs, but shakes himself awake to do his final sweep.
Jason fondly travels around the perimeter, finding HVA290, a redheaded cow who entered the facility roughly eight months prior. She was nothing but a soft, disapproving voice when she started, and was now their top producer. Her farmhand had even gotten a bi-weekly bonus as it took so much longer to drain her than your standard cow. HVA290 twitches in her sleep and mumbles. Jason rests his elbows on her gate and leans over her pen. He remembers presenting HVA290 as a set of data to the board nearly three quarters prior, one of his first successes. The board followed him to the barn as he milked her personally in that presentation. They marveled at her output and when offered a drink, only their pride stopped them from asking for another.
Jason leaves HVA290 and heads for the next row. It's truly the addictive quality of their milk that keeps Shaw Farms in business and ahead of their competition. Thankfully, it's not due to an additive or another unseemly practice, but is baked into cows upon their transformation. Jason attributes it to a kind of scientific magic. It's something honestly remarkable about their product, and it's –
A soft, distressed moo echoes down the stalls. Jason cuts his own thought off as he leans from side to side, hunting for the source. Every cow he sees is lying down, softly snoring, each pen identical - except for one. He approaches on quick, quiet feet to find Essie May with her IV inserted, her tits still red and nipples puffed. She's covered in a clammy sweat, moaning, and curled tightly into herself. Jason opens her gate and comes to her side. She weakly lifts her head, blinking into awareness.
"Mm... still... still hurts," she moans.
Jason whispers, "Whoa, whoa. Essie May, quiet down."
As she hears the trigger words, Essie's eyes roll back in her head and she slumps into heavy, even breathing. Where Jason easily could have put her to sleep, he chooses to keep her in an awake, but sedated state. While not out of pain, Jason knows she should experience a sense of euphoria that at least dulls her injury. He nearly moves to carry her to McCarthy's exam room, but is stopped short by the IV still feeding her milk stimulants.
Shaw jogs out the barn and back to Amelia's interns. He drags one away from their studies and into Essie May's stall, where they make quick work of disconnecting her and pressing a bandage to the insertion site. With it tightly taped to the bend of Essie's arm, Shaw hoists Essie over his shoulder. The intern stumbles after him, asking if he's sure he doesn't need a stretcher. Shaw can only insist he's fine, he's fine, everything's going to be taken care of. The intern ensures Shaw gets Essie May to the exam table, and finally asks if he should notify Dr. McCarthy before returning to his work. Shaw dismisses him with a wave of his hand.
McCarthy stores blankets in one of these cabinets, and Shaw digs through them all in his mission to keep Essie warm. Her eyes limply follow him around the room until he covers her. He supports Essie and sits her upright, her ass pressed to the cool metal as Shaw says, "Essie, wide awake."
And Essie moans over herself as she comes to her full senses. Yet, the ache is second to the completeness she feels in Jason's presence. Essie pushes a gulp down her throat, and whines, "So... so full. Help, please."
Jason looks at her as if looking at her for the first time, a nervous energy singing through him. He should be calling Amelia or Tommy, and he knows it. But something in Essie's wide, brown eyes begging for him, for Jason to save her specifically, has him ruffled. He's not meant to be hands-on with the stock. That was never the way his father ran the business, and it wasn't the way he intended to, either. Yet, he'd already broken that rule when he fucked Essie through her program completion, and he hadn't stopped himself from cumming across her chest. This, however, wasn't on anyone's radar. Sure, Jason had created nearly a hundred hours of hypnosis training. That was something he had plenty of experience in, something that called for him to work with Essie one on one when things got... out of hand. But milking? He had never attempted it. It wasn't his place.
Essie shuffles in his arms, her breasts so plump and overflowing that it can't take much. After all, it's not like mixing Amelia's chemicals and seeing what happens. It has to be as straightforward as it seems.
"Alright, Essie, wait here," Jason says, his voice low and commanding, even unintentionally. Essie's eyes gather a fine mist of obedience over them, and she sits patiently whimpering as Jason hunts through the room again. He knows he's seen it somewhere - ah, there. A spare pail stuffed in the back of the closet. Amelia has to use it for emergency milkings, or what else is it for?
"Down," Jason commands, and Essie automatically, but carefully, wobbles onto her hands and knees. The exam table doesn't budge beneath her, but it can't be comfortable.
Jason pushes the bucket under her chest and rolls his sleeves to the elbows. He palms her breasts, and Essie lets out a sharp breath. He mutters to himself, "Let's make this quick."
As much as Jason tugs and pulls at Essie's breasts, at her nipples, squeezes from the top down, nothing comes out. He soothes her as best he can, cooing and murmuring sweet sounds. But Essie is near tears as he lets go once again, the bucket just as empty as he knows it was that morning. Why did he think he could milk Essie May if Tommy, one of his own handlers, couldn't? Maybe all that 'imprinting' talk was in his head.
Jason carelessly tosses the bucket to the counter and airs out his now sweaty armpits. Essie is red and irritated and more uncomfortable than when they started. It's as if no pair of hands in the entire farm can get the job done.
...Hands.
Jason has an idea. One that he knows the handlers don't like, and that McCarthy would throw a fit for. He pats Essie's ass with a gentle tap, and rearranges her to sit with her legs swinging over the side of the table. He pushes her hands behind her, forcing Essie's chest out. She looks at him with those big brown eyes, and Jason freezes. This is the last thing he's meant to be doing. He spent the last week putting distance between himself and EMT299, at McCarthy's suggestion and his own opinion. If they were going to train the bond out of Essie, this was not going to help. But, doesn't Jason care about Essie's health? Isn't this for her own good, for Shaw Farms' good, as they aim for higher and higher production quotas?
Shaw knows he's bullshitting himself. But it feels better than the truth.
Jason opens his mouth and flicks Essie's raw, puffy nipple with his tongue. She jolts under the touch, surprised and still aching. As he wets her skin, he moves his other hand to her clit, and rubs in agonizingly slow circles. Essie's cheeks burn bright red, her brain soft and animalistic with the pain and pleasure combining. Shaw hooks her nipple into his mouth and begins to suck diligently. He goes through the motion in a loop as Essie's cries grow louder and louder, and the muscles in his jaw tire quickly. He sucks at her tit until his wrist cramps, and he switches sides, moving his mouth to the other breast and his other hand takes up the mantle downstairs. As he moves, Essie borders on cumming already, and he slows his fingers even further. He puts all his focus and energy into the movement of his mouth, occasionally giving them both a rest and dragging his tongue up and down Essie's most sensitive flesh.
When he alternates, Jason pushes himself to move even faster. He sucks as hard as he can, hollowing his cheeks and pulling at her over and over. He drags his other hand from her cunt and instead, attaches it to her other breast, and Essie howls at the touch. Her eyes are watering again and her chest feels as if it's on fire. The pain grows until it's nearly unbearable. She grunts and groans, but can't do much more as her mind is completely empty of everything but the sensation. It hurts, and hurts, and keeps hurting until –
It's as if something is unplugged. Shaw makes a muffled noise of surprise as the first trickle of milk lands on his tongue. Essie's chest is heaving with relief. Her moos soften to a slow hum as satisfaction fills her from head to toe. Her trickle becomes a stream, and Jason is gulping back as much as he can. It dribbles down the corners of his mouth, trailing along his chin and dotting his clothes. He knows he can stop now, can move on to the other tit - but the taste is unlike anything else. There's a sweet, almost fruity quality to Essie's milk, and it's thicker than standard dairy, frothy in nature. It glides past his tongue and down his throat and Shaw is helplessly chasing the true nature of its flavor. Essie's pussy throbs the longer he sucks and is desperate for something to fill her totally. She winces when that breast runs dry and Shaw continues to tug at her nipple. He quickly finds the other in a flurry of movement, and is bobbing against her breast as quickly as he was the first time.
Essie grunts as he tugs on her sore, burdened chest, until once again, sweet relief claws its way through. Shaw moans into the second flow, and drinks her with as much fervor as he did the first time. He makes a bigger mess as he gasps into her, white cream spilling down his face and staining his button-down. When Essie, sadly, runs completely dry, Shaw frees her nipple with a pop. He staggers backwards and rests against McCarthy's counter. His mind is nothing but an epiphany, as if it's woken up and tasted pure sweetness for the first time in its life. He wipes his face with his hands and sucks what he can from his own fingers, as well.
Essie rests with a look of dazed satisfaction on her face, though her hips twitch. She squirms from side to side, not so subtly spreading her legs as she takes on a wanton blush. Shaw feels the urge to mount her blossoming in his chest, and his straining cock. He wants to have all of her, to completely possess her as he's overcome with greed. But he fumbles. He remembers who he is, and what Essie is truly for. Shaw shakes himself loose. This can't happen again.
Stepping ever so closer to Essie, he triggers her, "Essie, listen closely."
Her expression fades to emptiness, to a vast, vacant look ready to to absorb whatever Shaw feeds her.
Shaw comes to her ear and whispers, low and firm, "You've been very good for me. So good for me, that your mind can't contain it. Your sweet, simple mind. It won't retain anything that happened tonight, because it just... can't. All it can hold is a memory of you sleeping soundly. All you have are your memories of the dark barn, of your peaceful sleep."
Essie hums, her legs closing slowly and her body taking on a slight sway from side to side.
"What do you remember, Essie?"
Her words are slurred and take so much effort for her to produce. "I'm... sleep. Sleepy... in the barn."
"Yes," Shaw pats her head. "Good. You're too dumb to remember anything else. Too simple and pretty. What are you, Essie?"
"D-dumb. Sim...simple. Pretty." Essie basks in her praise.
"That's right," Jason says. "And you're ready to go back to your dreams, aren't you?"
"Mmm," Essie hums and nods.
"Good, very good. Rest easy, Essie."
And she leans to the table, curling into a deep, relaxed slumber.
Jason takes her over his shoulders and calls for the intern to follow him back to her stall. Once she's reconnected to her IV, Jason turns to the student.
"You studied in the lab all night, understand?" Shaw squares his shoulders and looks down his nose at the kid.
The intern agrees shakily, "Y-yes, sir."
"I don't like to do this, but your position at Shaw Farms is dependent on your honesty," Jason says. The intern nods, and Jason allows him to scurry back to his work. He gives Essie one last look before he marches for his office and slams himself inside. He returns to his desk, to his head in his hands. Her taste lingers in his mouth, and he finds himself licking the backs of his teeth to collect it. As Jason shuts the blinds completely, he pulls lotion and tissues from the bottom drawer of his desk. He pumps himself and a warm, thick load into his hand, and Essie swirls through his brain.