Milk Sow Ch 08

Chapter 8: The Registration

The next day as Ginny lay locked in the machine she felt the attachment swing round and stop just short. A thin jet of oil squirted from its tip and coated her cunt lips. She felt the tickling impact of the oil land just below her back entrance, some of it splashing onto that tight opening. She instinctively cinched her muscles to resist the invasion by the tiny pool of oil collecting in its recess. A slight trickle seeped slowly round to coat her cunt lips in a warm caress. Ginny realised the cock was too high and adjusted her position upwards very slightly until she could feel the slippery jet of oil drill into her opening. It had not really been a conscious decision; it was more an instinctive response to align her entrance in preparation for being fucked. The fact she was preparing herself to accept a mechanical phallus seemed to make no difference. Having found its mark, the machine rammed home, sinking within her folds, possessing her. Ginny groaned and felt her lips splayed wide by the thrust of the mechanical arm stretching her. Feeling it inside her now she felt totally at its mercy. She had no control over how deeply it would penetrate her, or whether she would be able to accommodate it. Perhaps, she thought with growing apprehension, it would whirr out of control, unresponsive to Ben's controls, fucking her remorselessly while Ben fought to switch it off. She was trapped, locked at the mercy of the machine, which was starting to move inside her.

"That was excellent!" Ben's voice emerged from between her knees. "Having that spray of oil allows the sow to realise exactly where the steel tip of the arm is and the way you just adjusted your position to accommodate it. That was first rate. Well done!"

Ginny heard his words, but they came to her through a fog as the pistoning of the machine regulated her approaching orgasm. Ben stood back and looked at Ginny draped over the machine. She looked really hot with the steel pipework disappearing into the opening between her thighs. More than ever she appeared like an animal to him, unable to think or form speech when she was riding the machine, taking gasps of air each cycle. Her cunt was amazingly wet. Ben turned the machine off and the pistoning slowed and came to a stop.

"Let's try it one more time." Ginny yearned for the machine to continue. She found it hard to stand on her own feet, needing the support of the machine. Her pussy still buzzing with the memory of the hard steel that had been vibrating inside her, she stood before the mat and prepared to be pushed that final pernicious step binding her ever more tightly to the machine. She was becoming a slave to this machine, she could not stop thinking about it, she could not resist its demands upon her and now it could fuck her in an emotionless, dispassionate and brutal way, and without a word she would slide her cunt up into alignment with it, and prepare herself to receive it.

Ginny dropped to her knees, her hands slid into the familiar slots and she relished the pressure of the ties that snaked around her wrists. Her gaping cunt hung open before the mechanical cock as she waited in readiness to receive it. Again the air from her lungs and thoughts from her head were forced from her as the mechanical arm sank deep into her. An inner sleeve began to extend within her as the outer sheath continued to pulse rocking, pulling at her bringing her clit into contact with the steel, her lips dragged apart. She could feel the inner invader swell within her and then to her amazement it started to rotate. She could feel it whirring around, slipping effortlessly against her soft lubricated walls. The combined sensation of the pulsing sheath pulling at her entrance and the inner rotating core swirling deep in her belly overpowered Ginny who lay immobile absorbing these new sensations created by the machine. Then suddenly the inner sleeve pulsed and a gush of sticky cum hosed against her cervix and splattered against her wall linings, and Ginny's body responded in step with the machine.

As the mechanical arm continued to delve into her, Ginny's body was being processed as any other sow on the production line. Ginny was overcome with the remorseless attack upon her cunt which seemed as though it would never end. This machine had a capacity to work her for far longer than any man could, and again and again it would splash it's cum within her open and receptive body, training her body to respond each time with its own growing powerful orgasms. She groaned and thrashed against her bonds, before gasping out:

"Please... please.. I want it to milk me!"

Ben was so engrossed in the performance of the arm that he was shocked to hear his wife's voice. He bent down next to her face as her body rocked upon the machine.

"But it's not your milking time?" he seemed genuinely puzzled.

"I know...." She gasped. "I need this."

So Ben engaged the vacuum cups that slipped over her udders engulfing them. She felt the rubber rings grip around her nipples and instantly she started to cum with renewed intensity. She shouted and screamed senseless noises erupting uncontrollably from her open mouth, filling the room as milk gushed from her teats forced to sway by the drumming of the cock that was now regulating her cums in time with the milk being pumped out of her. As the milk descended the tubes, the machine reinforced the lesson by pumping more cum into her cunt. She felt the pressure of it spraying inside her, being forced back out, overflowing until great globules of it ran down the backs of her thighs and collected in the hollow of her knees and pooled onto the floor. Her orgasms were cumming in quick succession, one building upon the other. She had no time for breath, swept along by this roller-coaster ride that she could not stop. Her body took more and more, a thousand men fucking her, relentlessly pouring their seed into her until she drowned in cum and still they persisted. Finally the milk pulsing from her eased, the gears descending, the insane merry-go-round slowing to a halt.

Ben stood back staggered by his wife's display of raw lust. He found it hard to digest just what profound changes his wife had gone through. He had been angry as he had worked on the machine. He had wanted to humiliate her, to startle her, open her eyes to what she was turning into. Yet as she lay there squirting the last drops of her milk into the collecting jars and erupting into orgasm as she did so, he realised how much she craved this. Ben felt a sickening knot tighten in his stomach. He felt resentful and a choking anger consume him. He could not listen to the voice of reason as he saw this creature of sensual pleasure erupting in abandon before him willingly yield herself to his machine. What had he created? The very instrument he had built to torment her was now torturing him. He saw that far from being humiliated to be fucked by his machine, instead of being repelled by the idea of being nothing more than an animal mounting it, she had made a gear change in her submission. A raw, animalistic stench of lust invaded his senses and he felt overcome. Truth was that he was afraid of the energy that had just been unleashed in this room, an energy that left him feeling alien, a voyeur. He wanted to creep away and yet he had been transfixed to the spot.

Ben could no longer hide or hope that things would revert to how they had been before Ginny's training. He now saw plainly that she had become a sow and they were both colluding in denial by pretending that was not so. Ginny had acquired a body that could feed off sex and designed to produce copious amounts of milk. He was fooling himself if he believed she would ever reduce the amount of milk she produced, that her body could ever return to how it was.

Ben helped her off the machine. Ginny seemed barely conscious, she was murmuring and unable to stand. Her eyes did not register his presence. He helped her to lie down on the floor to recover her strength. She lay surrounded in the mixture of the machine's cum and her own, a potent mixture like some blood pact they had sealed between them. He watched her chest heave, her heart throbbing wildly. She was totally enslaved by the needs of his machine. He would get rid of it, get it out the house. But even that would not return Ginny to her old self. Ben resolved in that moment, he would have to send her back to the farm, this time to stay.

Ben entered the office with Ginny walking a few paces behind. He did not look around or acknowledge her behind him, but spoke directly to Sam.

"I have brought Ginny back. As I said to you on the phone, we have discussed it and agreed she would be better off registering as a permanent sow. So I have brought her back and I agree to your price."

Sam glanced over Ben's shoulder at Ginny. She stood a few paces behind with her head bowed. She wore a simple dress that hung from two slender shoulder straps and fanned out from her hips. She had come a long way, he thought.

"Have you got her to sign over power of attorney to you?" he asked. Ben nodded. "Then I guess we can register her here." He turned and went over behind the desk and opened a drawer. As he looked through to find the relevant paperwork he spoke to Ginny.

"Will you kneel for us while we prepare your papers?" he spoke kindly towards her, and he had asked her, which perhaps under the circumstances was a kindness Ginny had not expected. Without hesitation, she sank to her knees. Somehow she felt more comfortable like this, on her knees in this familiar room before these two men. It seemed to make it easier for her to bear listening to them discussing her registration. She did not have to struggle over the embarrassment of standing by when she could have spoken out. On her knees it was clear to all of them that whatever she might have to say was of no importance. She might just as well remain silent as she would have to comply with whatever they decided on her behalf anyway.

Ginny knelt there and reflected upon her morning. She could not believe how quickly she had capitulated to her desires. It took just one small push to tip her over into free-fall. When Ben had told her he had spoken to Sam about selling her back to the farm, she had not reacted, not spoken out, not returned his anger with her own. Perhaps it was the way he spoke to her, demanding her obedience; perhaps too without realising it, she had been waiting, pushing the circumstances, remorselessly propelling them towards this moment. So when it finally arrived she had only felt relief and that was all. Ben had confronted her and he had been angry, and Ginny had felt strangely repentant: guilty for her own desires, guilty perhaps for not being a better wife. The least she could do was to stand before him and feel the cathartic blow of his anger wash across her face. Then when all had been said he had told her he was taking her to a lawyer's office to start the process and shooed her out the room with instructions to change into something suitable to wear when he presented her back at the farm.

Since then, the rest of the morning passed like a dream. She had been brought in to the lawyer's office and signed over her rights to everything she owned to Ben. Her hand had trembled as she had signed in front of the smartly dressed man. He had explained to her very carefully that if she did sign this paper then Ben would be entitled to empty all her bank accounts, sell her car and even give the clothes on her back to anyone he chose, and she could not stop him. Ben would have absolute rights over what happened to her. He strongly advised her not to sign, and she had to repeat several times to him that she had thought this through and decided of her own free will to proceed. What she could not tell him, however, was that she was about to give up far more than just her possessions. It scared her to the very core to relinquish everything, and she almost caved in whilst having to reaffirm again and again till that stupid lawyer had agreed to proceed. It had been a tremendous ordeal, and for a while Ben softened towards her and told her what a good girl she had been. Yet what it had demonstrated to her, was her resolve to let Ben do this, and the tingling in her pussy as she knelt before them now was reassurance enough for her.

Sam looked up at her and smiled kindly. Her head was still bowed.

"Slip that dress off your shoulders. I want to see those shapely udders you have been developing. You look so much more the beautiful sow now." Ben felt awkward stuck between the two of them. This was precisely what he was trying to escape from. He didn't want to turn and look at Ginny. If he didn't look at her, he could escape the pang of guilt he was suppressing for what he was doing. They had discussed it and she had been convinced. When he had confronted her with all the changes in her behaviour she had been forced to acknowledge her desires. How angry he had become when he finally dragged the confession out of her that she missed the farm. Now they had both acknowledged what was going on, there was no going back.

Ben's thoughts were interrupted by the rustle of material and half turning he glanced over his shoulder. Ginny knelt there in a large pool of material. It swept around her knees and legs hiding them completely. Yet her breasts were fully exposed, pale sacks contrasting against the darker material of her dress, the straps hung limply half way down her arms. The udders, as Sam had referred to them, hung heavily downwards. The way Ginn bowed her head, made them seem large bulbous growths, a little incongruous on her slender chest. They seemed to bulge in the middle as if already laden with milk. Her nipples were extended hanging perfectly downwards, as if waiting for their connection to the farm's milking machines.

"I can see you are ready for this next step, little ginnysow. That's what Matt called you wasn't it? He told us that you'd be back. He said you were a natural, and he has an eye for such talent." She did not answer him. She did not need to. The fact that she had never even raised her head as he referred to her by her sow name was witness enough of her acceptance of it. The fact she knelt meekly before these men and never objected when Sam required her to open her clothing and display her udders, was all that needed to be said.

Sam picked up the phone. "Hi Ralph. I have a sow here ready for registration. Could you pop over?"

As they waited, Ginny (or was she ginnysow now?) waited on her knees. Her teats felt cold exposed in the room. The two men talked. There were a number of papers that needed signing, but Ginny's mind could not be deflected from her slit that felt soft, wet and open in anticipation of Matt or the others sinking themselves into her. No matter how much she hated the idea of becoming a sow, it had never left her. She had a deep internal need, she could not understand or withstand. She had ignored it for long enough. Her thoughts were interrupted as a door opened behind her and a man walked past her. She watched his deep black shoes as they passed her.

"Hi Ralph. Good of you to make time for us. Now we can proceed." Sam spoke. After a few words of introduction, Ralph turned towards Ginny. "I see she's good and ready for her transition." He walked towards her. "You may look up at me." He spoke kindly towards her. Ginny, hesitant at first, lifted her head and stared back into his eyes. They were friendly. He bent at the knees before her.

"It is my job to ensure you are not being coerced or drugged into this," he said. "I need to do some medical checks and talk with you in the other room." He held out a hand and helped her up.

They walked through into a separate room. It was brightly lit with a large table in the middle.

"Sit up here, why don't you." He patted the table top. Ginny climbed up and sat on the edge of the table, her legs swinging below her.

"First thing is, I want to say I don't blame ya if you want to register as a sow. They have a pretty good life. I understand you stayed here a couple of weeks back is that right?"

Ginny nodded.

"That what made you decide to register?" Ginny just stared back. She wanted to tell him it was so much more than just a simple visit. Yet she couldn't bring herself to utter her dark secret, even now. Ralph's eyes watched hers closely.

"Could you just slide your legs apart?" he put his hand under her skirt and felt the honey that was collecting there.

"I understand," was all he said. There was kindness in his voice and a knowing look in his eye. She brightened; he had understood what seemed to her so impossible to understand. She could not find the words to describe the pent up excitement that thrilled through her as she sat on this inspection table, and amazingly he had understood without the need for words. It seemed she was not the only girl to feel this way. Not the only girl to feel alive by surrendering her dignity and her status.

"I just need to take a blood sample and a swab to make sure you are healthy, but otherwise I am satisfied."

Before long they joined the others. Ben and Sam were sitting and talking. There were a deal of papers spread before them, but on the top was a large green form. Ginny recognised it as a registration document. She bowed her head directly, reminded of her status. Ralph had taken a number of photos. She was naked now and again made to kneel. Was she made to? It just seemed to come naturally to her. Her thoughts were easily distracted, perhaps she felt she didn't need to think about what these men were arranging. Ralph went over and started filling out part of the form. After a few more minutes as Ginny contemplated the floor before her and listened to the murmur of the men's voices, Sam turned to her.

"OK. We just need to get a registration number for you. Then the process will be complete."

Ralph had taken some photos which he was fixing to the back of the form. He then turned towards her.

"Right Ginny. The final step in this process is to have you stamped with your registration number."

Ben turned towards him. He looked shocked.

"You don't mean.... Branded?"

Sam laughed, "of course not. We have long since stopped such medieval practices." Ginny felt the wave of relief ripple through her as she waited patiently at their feet. She understood that even if it had meant branding, she would have been made to go through it. She had no choice in the matter any longer.

"We have this die now, which we use to impregnate certain skin cells. The pattern of cells is selected to create the registration branding. But the clever part is, the molecules of the die attach themselves to the cell's DNA. This is what makes the die permanent. It becomes part of the cell. So over time, as the skin replenishes itself and her cells divide, the splitting of the DNA carries with it the die molecules. Quite literally her registration mark is going to be integrated as part of her body. She will never ever lose the mark she bears." As Ginny listened to Ralph a lurch of fear tingled across her belly. Was this really what she wanted? She knew that this would be her last opportunity to object, yet somehow she could only remain strangely silent, cowed by these men and their disregard of her presence, while all the time listening to them. She knew she was allowing these things to happen to her. She knew she wasn't deceiving anyone, but she was no longer capable of making any decision either for or against wearing her registration number for the rest of her life.

"That's right," said Sam. "Once she has accepted her mark, there will be no way back. No one can undo it, she will be designated a sow for the rest of her life." Although he spoke to Ben, he was looking directly at Ginny, who knew she should be leaping into action, making a stand, giving herself more time. It had been a fun fantasy, but she had to stop it now before it had gone too far and the way back was sealed. Yet the leaking, dripping pleasure that oozed out of her held her captive a while longer. She was not going to break its spell, even if that meant a lifetime of servitude. In fact, it was because it meant a lifetime of servitude that she extracted such pleasure from her predicament. She needed this, and she didn't know whether she would regret this decision later, but right now she had to focus upon was seeing it through.