Essie's head pounds in the early dawn, but this isn't new anymore. Her head has been aching for the last month as her milk supply dwindles. She doesn't know why her milking time has become so much shorter than all the others, but Tommy finishes with her in twenty minutes and leaves with a grimace. Essie whines softly in her pen, much of her breakfast left untouched. Before, the smell was so powerfully alluring, she was scrounging her floor for the last bite. Now, she curls into a ball and whimpers. Her mind is foggy and memories don't fit where they should. Essie has flashes of waking up and going to the field in the middle of the night, being led there time after time. In the next flash, she's waking up in her pen. She groans as the pieces try to fit themselves together and merely mash into one another over and over.
The other girls are still milking when Tommy returns, this time with Dr. Amy and some of her friends in tow. They enter the pen and start manipulating Essie without a word, lifting her arms and strapping some piece of fabric around her bicep that squeezes too tightly. Essie watches Dr. Amy's face as she looks on, though her expression is flat and tells Essie nothing. Tommy and the doctor are talking quietly while Amy's friends continue to grope Essie and inspect her body. They finish as Jason approaches, taking powerful strides that quickly bring him to Essie's pen. Essie's heart rate calms as his presence nears. He comes upon Dr. Amy and Tommy with a smile and a light mist of sweat shining on his brow, speaking with more authority and loud enough for Essie to now hear.
"What seems to be the problem?" he asks. McCarthy raises her eyebrows in Tommy's direction almost imperceptibly. Jason is still jittery, still on edge. It's been a month and if anything, he's getting worse.
Tommy huffs. "Well, EMT299 is still not producing at her former rate, but beyond that, she seems to be in distress daily now. We don't know what changed, but something's off."
Amelia nods. "Her blood pressure is normal, we found nothing wrong with her in a quick physical; we'll need to x-ray her for anything more."
Jason shakes his head. "No, I don't think that's it. Look at her." He gestures to Essie's wincing shape. "It's... something else."
Tommy volunteers, "Well, we could try asking her."
"Asking her?" Jason's voice goes gruff.
"Yeah," Tommy says as he opens Essie's stall door and steps inside. "You know they keep a percentage of their language skills. Maybe she can tell you. Honestly, should've done that before I brought Amelia all the way down here."
Amelia snorts. "Not a bad idea."
Jason pushes past McCarthy and into her stall in a flurry. "Are you sure your answers will be reliable? I mean, her training was obviously more intensive than any we've done before."
"No," Tommy answers, "but it couldn't hurt, right?"
He knees before Essie as McCarthy's interns remove their equipment and bustle back beyond the stall. Essie looks at Tommy with pained, but trusting eyes, that are soothed all the more by Jason's warm scent. That same smell, though, tries to force her memories together. Essie whines.
Tommy levels with her and strokes her hair, brushing it out of her face and shushing her all the while. "Essie, tell us where it hurts. Speak."
The command compels Essie's mouth to open and release a low, pained, "moooooo," before she can think of anything else. Tommy waits, letting her words find their way out. Essie says, "Head... head hurts. Remember...ing things. Outside, at night, but then..." Essie mimes a burst of white light. "Just wake up h... he–"
Jason shushes her again. "It's all right, Essie, very good. Rest easy."
And Essie's eyes roll back as she slumps to the side, her breathing becoming deep and even.
"Shaw, she wasn't finished yet," Tommy says, eyeing Jason closely.
Jason shakes his head. "She's remembering her old life. I'm not about to let her relive that and strengthen those memories. Dr. McCarthy, set her up for another wipe. And let's drop her IQ...mm, as low as it can go, to be frank."
Dr. McCarthy leans forward, resting her elbows against the pen's fencing. Her eyes narrow.
"Amelia, do you agree with that?" Tommy asks. The atmosphere between Tommy and Jason sharpens.
"You don't?" Jason stands up to his full height and towers over Tommy's kneeling figure.
Tommy doesn't cower. "Just making sure we got all our ducks in a row."
Amelia cuts in. "It's really a perfect explanation. Much like our entire herd, EMT299 was running from something, from someone, and her memories before Shaw Farms were not pleasant. If they're starting to reappear now, she'd be plenty uncomfortable. It could be an explanation for her lack of milk, as well, but I'm not convinced there. We should get her started on an additional course of supplements. We'll go back to doubling her doses. The food shaft will skip her pen and we'll hand-formulate her courses again. Sound like a plan, boys?"
Tommy nods curtly.
Jason adds, "And the wipe?"
McCarthy shrugs. "We've got the time. No new applicants. Are you sure you want her that dumb, though? She's about to be a pretty popular option in the playpen, and a lot of our clients want something more than a blow-up doll."
Jason shakes his head. "I'm not talking about a lobotomy here. Ditzy. She'll have a harder time remembering her own life if there's not much to remember it with." He forces a laugh, though it sounds false even to his own ears.
Amelia shrugs. "Supposedly. We've never really aimed for pure stupidity, though."
"Essie's the first time for a lot of things," Tommy grumbles under his breath.
Jason ignores it. He orders, "Get it started."
Amelia nods. She pushes into the pen and with Tommy's help, stands Essie May to her full height. She commands, "Wide awake, and up tall."
Essie May blinks herself to life and stands rigidly upright. She turns her head from side to side, taking in the faces surrounding her. Comfort washes over her as Dr. Amy gives her a gentle smile.
"That's a good girl, Essie," Dr. Amy says. Essie's thighs squirm together. "Now, follow."
Everything falls from Essie's mind except the need to stay close on Dr. Amy's heels. She's immediately behind her as the floor transitions from hay-covered wood to smooth tile, a familiar cold Essie walked on seemingly a lifetime ago. They move through the facility until they stop before a door locked by keypad. Amelia doesn't bother hiding the code as she opens it, knowing what Essie's mind will be like on the other side.
They open to a small, white room. It's empty of all but a plain bench with a high back that faces the deepest set wall. Amelia sets Essie down in her seat and takes the leather belt extending from the bench. She straps Essie's neck into position, the belt working as much like a collar as a restraint, and a calculated smile falls across her lips. Amelia orders, "Essie, listen closely. Stay in this position. Do not move. Keep your eyes locked on that wall. You're going to hear a voice, a very nice voice that you'll listen to so intently. All of its words are going to become you're reality. Won't that be nice, to let the words decide for you?"
Essie, her eyes unfocused and lost in her suggestible state, bounce as she nods for Amelia.
"Yes, it'll be so nice, Essie. So nice to listen and let go of anything beyond the voice. So nice and comfortable."
McCarthy doesn't bring her out of her trance as she closes the door behind her. Metal mechanisms thump into place as Essie is locked into the room, primed to be wiped.
Essie's head feels disconnected from her body as it bobbles from side to side. She is still lost in the light, floating sensation as the room suddenly becomes a shade of soft, baby pink. A projector descends from the ceiling and lays spirals overtop every surface of the space. Essie locks onto them as the only shape that can ground her the further and further she falls into trance.
A voice comes alive overhead. This time, it is not the voice of Shaw, but of a woman with silken tones. The woman says, "Hello. Welcome to your own mind. Each swirl is one of your thoughts, is a piece of your brain, is a part of you. This spiral is all part of you. That's beautiful, isn't it?"
Essie nods so slightly it could be mistaken for another sway of her head.
"You're here to lose the past and become the present. You're here to live a new life, a happier life, a gentle life. You will not worry, you will not want for anything. This is your future. You are the present. The past is nothing."
The voice continues on, taking Essie deeper into her own subconscious. The voice bring them to the base of Essie's brain, where all her thoughts and memories are stored.
"These precious items... well, are they so precious? They're not the present. Do we have any need for the past?"
Essie shakes her head and gives the voice a dumb, "Unh-uhn."
"No, we don't need the past," the voice agrees, so sickly sweet it can't help but be condescending. "The past is the past. We are the present. We are the future. What is the past? Nothing. The past is - pop - gone in the blink of an eye. Can you tell me, what was the past?"
Essie tries to conjure a thought. Tries to give the voice what it wants. But the voice has only told Essie what the past is, not what it was.
"That's right! You have no answer. Because the past wasn't. Because the past isn't. There is only the present, and there is only the future. Tell me, there is only the present, there is only the future."
Essie forces out, "Only... the present... only... the future..."
"That's right! Exactly. We have only the present and only the future. There is nothing else. Only the present and only the future. Only the present and only the future. Only the present and only the future. Anything before is simply nothing. What is anything before?"
"Simply noth-nothing," Essie stumbles.
"Yes, simply nothing. The past is gone. We have wiped it from our minds. We are only the present, we are only the future. We do not need for anything else. When we feel for the past, we find nothing. We find nothing, so we don't feel for the past. We are simply the present, we are simply the future. Will we find the past? No. We will find nothing, because the past does not exist. What is the past?"
Again, Essie can't answer.
"Right! What past? What could possibly come before the present? There is nothing but the present. There is nothing but the future. Thank you for listening so closely."
There's a pause as the next segment of the session loads.
"When we have only the present and only the future, we don't need to think silly thoughts about, well, anything! The present and the future are happening to us right now. Can you say, right now?"
Essie slurs, "R-right now."
"But do we even need to say 'right now'? That seems like it takes so much work to think about. When, really, we can let the present and the future happen. We can look at our beautiful, pink, spinning mind, and let it run and run and run. We don't need to do much else, do we?"
As Essie attempts to answer, the voice closes the gap. "No, we don't need to do much else. We just let our thoughts run and run and run. We let them happen. We watch as the pretty pink swirls go by. We don't want for anything else. We watch as the pretty pink swirls go spinning by. We watch as the world goes spin, spin, spin all around us. The world happens to us, we don't happen to the world. So do we need to think those big, pesky thoughts?
"No, we don't need to. We don't need to think anything. All we need is our beautiful, pink, spinning swirls. They go around and around and around. Isn't that just so pretty? Don't you just, like, love to watch the colors?"
A placid, easy grin slips onto Essie's face as she watches the spiral go. The spiral's image becomes bigger until it's everything Essie can see.
"Pretty, so pretty. So nice to watch the colors spin by. We don't need or want or think. We just let the spiral happen. We just let the spiral happen. We just let the spiral happen. With every spin, it wipes away any of our pesky little thoughts. Wipe, wipe, wipe. So pretty to watch it wipe, wipe, wipe. All we need is our beautiful spiral. Wipe, wipe, wipe. All we need is our beautiful smile. Wipe, wipe, wipe. All we need is our obedience. Wipe, wipe, wipe. All we need is our happiness. Wipe, wipe, wipe. We don't think too hard. Because when we do, we feel the gentle surge of wipe, wipe, wipe. Go ahead, try and think about something big and important."
Essie tries to force her brain to find something, anything to think about. Just as she finds the details–
"Wipe, wipe, wipe. All gone. Try to tell me something! Anything, that needs more than just a couple, pretty words. We love our pretty words, don't we? But use some of the big, long ones. Some of the ones that aren't so pretty."
Essie tries again, and–
"Wipe, wipe, wipe. Can you see it? Yes, the spiral goes wipe, wipe, wipe. Can you hear it? Yes, when something too difficult, too hard and confusing, comes along, all you hear is wipe, wipe, wipe. Isn't that all better? Tell me, is it all better?"
Essie murmurs, "All better."
"Yes, good girl! Good girls get wiped. Good girls are empty. Good girls think about nothing but pretty pink swirls and use their short, pretty words. Are you a good girl?"
Essie is panting as if in heat. The sheer number of praise phrases thrown at her have her temperature climbing. "I'm good girl," she insists.
"Yes, very good girl! Good girl for using only your pretty words, for thinking only your pretty swirls. Good girl for getting wiped. Aren't you the perfect good girl, letting all those big, ugly thoughts go away?"
Essie nods hurriedly as many times as she can.
"Yes, yes you are such a good girl! You have been so good and so perfect. Please, allow your pretty little pink brain to slow all the way down to nothing. Slow all the way down to emptiness. Slow all the way down to pretty happy blankness. And now, you're ready to be wide awake."
As the voice speaks it, Essie emerges from trance light and airy. The spiral shuts off simultaneously, and the door opens with an echoing ka-chunk. Amelia examines her pupils, her reaction times with satisfaction, and Essie rejoins the herd just in time for free roam.
Essie May wobbles her way outside, her mind filled with nothing but air and euphoria, her pussy soaked with the voice's many compliments. She finds her cluster of friends lazily reclined in the warm grass. Winnie and Rose lounge on top of each other while Sarah Beth rolls herself and back and forth on the ground, giggling all the while. Essie totters past them, the group following her with their eyes, but losing interest as she keeps moving. No, Essie doesn't stop in front of her friends. She roams aimlessly through the fields, directly through other clusters with no mind paid to where she steps. Her eyes lock onto sight after sight and she staggers through the field, nothing left in her mind but pretty pink swirls.
Essie keeps on this path through the open field, now trained on a butterfly that darts about. It flaps its orange and brown wings so gently against the open blue sky. Essie reaches a limp, lazy arm for it, and can practically feel its velvet wings against her finger as she collides with another cow, tumbling to the ground and landing on her chest.
She whimpers as she props herself up, grass and mud scraped along her front. The other cow shakes her head and huffs, infuriated. Essie crawls to their side, ready to help them to their feet, when they shake Essie from their side. Bright ginger hair parts around Harper's pinched face, her eyes wildly darting up and down Essie's blank and clueless expression.
"Bitch," Harper huffs, her body slowly rising until she looms over Essie's smaller frame. "Bitch!"
Harper lunges forward and pins Essie to the ground as Essie squeals in panic and wriggles beneath her. Harper yanks at Essie's chest, fisting her tits in her palm and eliciting another squeal from Essie. She pinches and prods at Essie as she yips with in pain, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She thinks Harper might finally be done with her as she reels back, until Harper grinds her knee against Essie's drenched cunt.
"You like this," Harper growls, her anger spiking.
"N-no," Essie whimpers. "Hurts! Hurts!"
Harper snorts, and applies more pressure to Essie. "Wet, needy bitch."
Essie's cheeks burn bright red, the shame intermingling with fear and her arousal that somehow, continues to grow. Essie can no longer understand why those three feelings swirl together, but she's stopped squirming under Harper's cruel hands.
Harper gives Essie one final thrust of her knee, and leans into her ear, fully pressing her weight onto her. "This is mine," she hisses. "My herd. My grass. My barn. Mine. Say it."
"Y-yours," Essie stammers. "Yours."
"Now you're mine too," Harper growls. "Say that."
Essie's mouth doesn't open. That's wrong, and she knows it. She's Jason's.
"Say it," Harper huffs, sinking her teeth into Essie's earlobe.
Essie cries out and thrashes against Harper. "No! No!"
"Say you're mi–" Harper howls as she's pried from Essie's body. Tommy is at Essie's side, pulling her free from Harper's grip as Carter wrangles Harper into submission. Carter barks, "Down!" And every cow within range is automatically on all fours, Essie included. Tommy takes that time to inspect Essie for injuries as Carter hauls Harper back to the barn. Essie comes away with a few scratches and bite marks, but is otherwise unscathed.
Harper's wild, livid eyes lock onto Essie's, and they're the last sight Essie remembers as Tommy pulls his handler's wand free.