Gromet's PlazaMachine Stories

A New Breed

by itsasecret

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© Copyright 2017 - itsasecret - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-M; MF; MF/m; farm; cheat; caught; video; revenge; drug; captive; bond; gag; machine; process; shave; branding; hucow; carwash; scrubbers; chemicals; hotwax; cockring; permanent; milking; cons/reluct; X

Michael was a smart man, and he was very protective of his younger sister, Sarah. They lived in the heart of the south in America, in the middle of Texas, where Michael, a mechanic by training, chose to work on his family's dairy farm, applying technology to streamline the entire process. He was just shy of 6'5", well tanned, and at 210 LBs, not someone that people chose to mess with. Sarah, on the other hand, was 5'8", with blond hair, eyes as blue as sapphires, and skin the color of milk; suffice to say, she was the kind that couldn't get people to leave her alone. But, as often as people fell for Sarah, Michael just as often let them know what was waiting should they so much as think of breaking his baby sister's heart; to Sarah's great frustration, it seemed her brother would scare away any and all of her lovers before anything serious could happen.

But, that would all change one fateful summer. Not long after she graduated college, as she worked on her family's dairy, deciding what to do with an expensive English degree, Sarah laid eyes on Keith, a tech guy helping her brother install new systems on the farm; Keith was in from up north, Ohio, she thought she heard her brother say, and he was the exact opposite of a Texas cowboy: tall, slim, with dark brown hair, green eyes, and a close cut beard. In a word, for Sarah, it was love at first sight. While Michael didn’t trust him, and would just as soon chase him out, he also saw that his sister was happy, and decided to sit back for once and see what happened. Sarah and Keith courted for a short 16 months, after which Keith proposed to Sarah in front of her father with what she thought was a beautiful ring.

Not long after, they were married in Texas, and Keith moved to join her on her family's farm, at least until she found a job in her field, perhaps teaching. And, while all seemed well, and the couple seemed outwardly happy, Michael still had his famous cynicism and doubts. All too often, it seemed to him, he saw Keith making cellphone calls late at night, long after Sarah had gone to bed, and Keith seemed to vanish for hours at a time during the day, often to "check out other farms”, and “see how they setup their tech." In Michael's mind, he was afraid it wasn't the milking machines that Keith was 'checking out', and he started to plan a stakeout.

Michael's first step was to place a small beacon, no bigger than a hockey puck, inside the wheel well of Keith's off-road jeep; the beacon had a gps antenna, and it confirmed over the next few weeks that Keith was indeed visiting other farms in the area, staying for a few hours and either returning back or moving to the next farm. While this relieved some of Michael's fears, he was still suspicious, and he began pondering how he could determine just what 'equipment' Keith was inspecting on his trips. Following the success of his first stage, Michael decided that he would travel to one of the farms himself, arrive before Keith, and place a tiny spy kit in the rafters of the milking barn.

The kit could record up to 12 hours of HD (albeit, black and white) video and then encrypt the files and send them to his email address, for later review. The kit had new advanced lithium batteries, as well as a motion sensing trigger, so it only recorded when something was happening. All told, it should record and transmit for close to 5 weeks, before using the last of its battery power to short circuit itself, removing all data left in the box. It was, Michael told himself, a foolproof plan, and it had no obvious flaws. Late one Sunday morning, when the rest of Texas was in church, Michael snuck into the nearest of Keith's stops, and set up the wide angle camera high above the floor, making sure to get as much of the barn in frame as possible. His work done, he retreated home, and began what he hoped (if not expected) would be a boring and featureless stakeout. Oh, how wrong he'd be....


It'd been three weeks since Michael had set up his camera trap in the next ranch down the road, and, while he checked the video feed every night, he began to think he'd been a little paranoid, and that Keith was honestly just examining the latest in livestock handling equipment. That is, until one fateful Monday night, when, upon his daily video review, he saw what he had dreaded for so long: Keith, entering from the bottom of the frame and embracing the daughter of the rancher who ran the farm. After a quick hug, and kiss on the lips, the two laid down in the straw and began to make out and grope each other, slowly stripping each other in the process, till both were as naked as they day they were born. Keith then rolled the girl onto her knees and took her from behind, thrusting for several minutes, till both collapsed into the straw in each others arms.

After what seemed like an eternity to the now furious Michael, he saw Keith check his watch, dress quickly, kiss the girl again, and then jog out to his car to be back in time for Sarah's home cooked meal. The video was still rolling, showing the girl washing off quickly using a sprayer normally used to clean off the cattle, drying, redressing herself, and then tidying up the scene of the crime. Michael closed his laptop, fuming angry at the betrayal dealt upon his sister, made seemingly worse by the fact that she didn't seem to know that it was even going on. With a start, Michael realized that the video uploaded each night at midnight, and he watched each video the following night... meaning that Keith had done this the previous day, and was now sleeping next to Sarah as if he'd done nothing wrong.

Feeling his hands start to shake in anger, Michael quickly decided on a course of action that he felt would be perfect revenge, laughing darkly as he started to make preparations. He knew that Keith wasn't religious, and therefore he'd sleep in late on Sunday, even though the rest of the household would be away at church, Sarah included. But, that just seemed fitting... Come Sunday, Keith would be judged for his sins, even if it was on a farm instead of in a pew.


Keith rolled over in the now half-empty queen sized bed, remembering that Sarah was away, at least till noon, maybe later, and he grinned as he drifted back to sleep. He never saw Michael edge in through door left ajar by Sarah, nor did he notice the cloth bag in Michael's hands, the bag that would've smelled sickly sweet, had he been awake. Michael slipped the chemical-soaked pillowcase over Keith's head, and, while he struggled slightly, he was no match for the strong Texan, nor the powerful mix of chemicals that made his whole world quickly fade to black.

When Keith awoke, his head was throbbing, and his jaws ached terribly. He felt like he'd been out for hours, while in reality it had been closer to 40 minutes. As he came to, he quickly realized something was very wrong: he was stark naked, bound, with a large ball of wadded-up fabric forced into his jaws. As he looked around the dim area he found himself in, he could tell he was suspended belly down in a spread eagle pose between two parallel rails, maybe 4 feet off the ground. His hands were bound in thick rubber mittens, attached to the rails with rollers, similar to his feet, with his cock hanging beneath him.

As all of this began to sink in, he started to thrash, as he immediately knew exactly where he was... the new experimental processing line he'd been working on with Michael.... But the current rig that suspended him was new. The final design had called for a treadmill-like conveyer belt that the cattle would be carried along, secured by clamps. This meant some major modifications had been made... He didn't know what was going on, but he knew it couldn't be good, and he began to try and cry out for help, hoping that someone would hear him and release him; the improvised ballgag, however, made this rather difficult, and all that came out were panicked sounding grunts.

As if on cue, Keith heard foot steps from both sides at once, each very different: from his left, he could hear the distinctive thud-rattle of cowboy boots with spurs, while to his right he heard the much lighter slap of bare feminine feet on the concrete floor. Out of the gloom stepped Michael on one side, a dark, malicious grin spread across his normally stoic face, while Sarah approached from the other, her face a mixture of heartbreak and fury. Now thoroughly confused, Keith stopped struggling and waited to see just what the hell was going on, and why he was strung up in the loading stage of a (newly modified) experimental livestock-management machine.

Without warning, he felt two simultaneous pains: a vicegrip on his hanging balls, loose in the Texas summer heat, and a burning slap across his left ass cheek, both delivered by the normally sweet and docile Sarah. Just as quickly as he felt the double pains, he heard Michael begin to speak: he heard him describe how he'd grown suspicious of him and set beacons, ultimately resulting in the discovery of his affairs,with what could assumed to be several of the local farmers' daughters. He told Keith of how he'd brought the evidence to Sarah, after she'd refused to take her own brother at his word. How, after seeing her newlywed husband plowing some whore doggy-style in a milking parlor, she and Michael had begun planning her revenge. And thus, why Keith was strung up naked, in the machine he'd helped create.

At this point Keith began to quake, because, while unsure exactly what revenge would be dished out upon him, it could take a wide variety of forms, courtesy of the various stages that made up what he was beginning to think of as his own personal hell, not to mention whatever 'additions' Sarah and Michael had cooked up. Just as he began to think this, the pain renewed in intensity on both fronts, as Sarah slapped his other cheek, just as hard, and clenched with her other hand, hard enough to bring tears to Keith's eyes. Michael described to him that certain 'additions' had been made to the machine, for this, it's maiden test on another living being, just as Keith had already surmised. Just as Keith began to wonder what 'additions' Michael had made, he received one more hearty slap on the ass, before hearing motors begin to spool, pulling him towards plastic flaps that separated him from the first stage of his purgation.


As Keith rolled along, the effort of keeping his head aloft was already straining his neck; was it worse to see his fate coming (with a sore neck) or simply look at the ground... As he pondered this, he moved through the plastic curtain into the first chamber. The whole machine took up a long barn, longer than a couple football fields, with partition walls that could be raised up at intervals, thus breaking up the long distance into shorter 'chambers'. To both his relief and his confusion, the first chamber seemed unchanged from his and Michael's designs, aside from the addition of a catwalk near the ceiling, upon which Michael and Sarah were following his progress. From what he could see, the catwalk appeared to run over the top of the partition walls, and stretched off into the distance, its end out of sight.

The first chamber was the initial scanning room, where new livestock were scanned by a series of lasers, as well as weighed and blood sampled, all in order to determine their breed, size, and health; important information that had to be known before the cow (or bull) in question could be mixed with the rest of the herd. Thus the source of Keith's confusion... He was an (average sized) human, and no matter how many times they scanned him, he wouldn't match any known breed.

As if reading his mind, Michael began to laugh, before shouting down at Keith in his Texas drawl exactly what was happening.

“Sorry city boy, but we don't have no cows 'round here that are man-shaped... So, your wife and I, we decided to setup a new breed in the computer, so you could have yer little lesson this mornin'. We argued for a while on what to name this new breed, but we decided on Homo Fallax; latin, for lying man, according to miss smarty pants over here,” he said with a dark chuckle, which Sarah matched, marking the first time she'd spoken that morning, if a laugh really counted.

“Now, irony aside, we had to tell the computer just what kind of thing this new breed was, so we set the standards to be just about a perfect description of you, city boy. I say just about because we might have... fudged... a few characteristics, but only to enhance the lesson we're trying to teach you. But, I'm talking too much. I'll let the machine do it's job, and I'll see you in the next chamber, city boy. Have fun.”

With that, Michael and Sarah walked along the walkway and out of sight. As if on cue, the machine seemingly sprang to life, powering on the scanning lasers and moving Keith to the center of the chamber. The lasers played green lines over the contours of his body, creating a visible 3-D model on a wall mounted LCD screen. After a few seconds, the lasers turned off again, and the screen showed HOMO FALLAX in large letters. Then, after another few seconds, the speakers droned to life, announcing the next operation.

“Now commencing with full body depilation procedure for: Keith,” the machine droned, using a recording of Sarah speaking Keith's name. “For your safety, please keep your eyes closed for the duration of the procedure” the machine added with irritating cheeriness.

Keith panicked, but ultimately obeyed, fearing for the effect the treatment would have on his sight. Closing his eyes, he waited in agonizing anticipation. Moving unseen were a whole cadre of robotic arms, similar to those used in Japanese auto factories, but instead of welders these ended in two-headed units, consisting of a small rotary scrubber and a spray nozzle. As the arms moved into position, the rollers on his legs moved forward, effectively putting him into a split. With the arms now surrounding him, Keith was doused suddenly with cold, high-pressure water from the various arms, which had impeccable aim, guiding intense jets along the crack of his ass, the base of his cock, balls, and his butthole itself. As quickly as it started, it stopped, leaving Keith cold, wet, and stinging. After a short pause, the sprayers fired again, this time coating him with what felt like a thick, warm gel. After coating his entire body, the scrubbers attached to the arms spun up to full speed and then moved in, bringing the gel on his skin to a white froth. The brushes left nowhere untouched, harshly scrubbing his balls, chest, back, and cock, with a special spinning bottle brush going to town on his ass crack. After what felt like an eternity of being flayed, the brushes stopped and pulled back.... and then nothing. As Keith hung in his restraints, he looked for all the world like an accident from a marshmallow factory.

It was several seconds later when Keith, recovering from his brush treatment, began to feel a strange sensation all over his entire body. It quickly moved from warmth, to tingling, to agony. Just as he thought he would surely ignite, the jets came on again, dousing him again with hard hitting jets of cold water. After being thoroughly rinsed, the feeling subsided. Afraid of what he'd find, Keith slowly opened his eyes and looked back along his stomach... to find himself pinker than an embarrassed flamingo, and with less hair than a newborn. He felt utterly humiliated, and then suddenly terrified... because there were still a good number of chambers between himself and the exit. As these thoughts were going through his head, several things happened in rapid succession. First, a needle punched into his left buttock, and drew back a blood sample. Then, another punctured his right cheek, but it implanted what he knew to be a radio tag. To the system, he was now an animal, to be processed accordingly. As soon as the needles withdrew from his now smooth (and still tender) butt, he heard a new sound that brought a new wave of fear washing over him... the click-whump of an igniting gas torch.... The kind he had installed on the machine to heat the end of the branding arms.

Keith began thrashing against his restraints, and trying desperately to do something, anything, to save himself from what he knew was coming... He knew full well that the pain it would bring would make his previous treatment feel like a relaxing massage. Eventually, he stopped, knowing that there was nothing he could do, and he tried to face his next punishment with dignity. Around this time, the wooshing of the gas torches fell silent, and the two arms, each ending in a steel plate, swung into position, one over each ass cheek. The arm on the left bore a large, block letter HF, and the right a six digit number, 000001. Without any warning, the two red-hot plates plunged down, planting firmly on either side of Keith's ass with a sizzle, followed shortly by a primal scream that could wake the dead. After 2-3 seconds, they lifted away, leaving angry red welts that would permanently scar over in the near future. Keith's ass was doused again in cold water, this time to Keith's overwhelming joy. This stage of his torture complete, his legs were brought back into a more normal posture, and he was moved along the tracks to another plastic curtain, and the next circle of the hell he'd built himself.

Passing through the hanging flaps of plastic, which irritatingly dragged along his sensitive and now-hairless skin, he arrived in a chamber he didn't recognize. Looking up, he spotted Michael and Sarah on the catwalk, now wearing matching yellow rain ponchos.

“Gotta say, those marks really fit you, city boy. I wasn't really sure if we should brand you, but sis' here insisted... You know how she is. She wanted you to suffer and remember; what kinda brother would I be if I couldn't support her?” Michael drawled out.

“Ya might be wonderin' why we got rain coats on... Let's just say that, even after you got the shave-job you did, Sarah here wanted to really make sure you got clean.... And neither of us want to share the experience with you.”

As Michael said this, Keith looked up and noticed... arches... in front of him, and what could have been large red and blue barrels, mounted on some kind of axle; some vertical, others horizontal. With a start, he realized that, to his growing horror, they were the type of wraparound brushes seen in automatic car washes; Michael's comments about cleaning suddenly took a dark twist.

“Sorry, city boy, you're probably still sore from the last room, but we can't wait all day. As for this room, did you know that the old power-wash down the road went out of business? We got a whole carwash's worth of stuff for dirt cheap!!” Michael grinned as he said this, seemingly genuinely excited.

“Now, I dunno that we'll use this stage for the cattle, but you're a special breed after all... nothing but the best for you.”

“Gotta say, I was sad I couldn't watch the first room's festivities,” Sarah added. “But, I helped pick out the parts for this room, and I'll enjoy watching you finally get your act cleaned up, Honey,” the final word dripping with contempt. “Oh, by the way, we had our pick on brushes. I picked the firmest ones, I know how much you value keeping clean.” With this, Sarah retrieved what looked like a large remote, and pressed the green button, setting the man-wash into action.

Keith again tried to fight, but again realized the pointlessness of his endeavors. He began rolling forward, for what would be his second, and hopefully last, harsh cleansing of the day. As he neared the first arch, a neon sign off to his side blazed to life, which read 'Manual Pre-Wash'. Before he could register confusion, he saw Sarah step in from his side, wearing the same poncho, as well as a pair of swim goggles, and holding what looked like a cross between a push broom and a pressure washer. Without a word, she activated the wand, set the temperature setting to maximum, and loaded a canister into it which read 'Super Solvent! Now Removes Road Tar!'

With little warning she pushed the now foaming brush down between Keith's shoulder blades and began viciously pushing and pulling the brush up and down his back, to Keith's immediate and immense displeasure. As the hot cleaner ran down his sides she moved around him, skipping his ass and moving to his ankles. She rubbed at his legs with gusto, slowly moving up his inner thighs till she was sawing away at the sensitive base of his crotch, and the even more sensitive flesh of his rear entrance. All the while, Keith was moaning in pain, and also, weirdly... pleasure? While his physical arousal was undeniable, he didn't understand it at all.... He hurt more now that he could ever remember... Why did he have to pop a boner now, of all possible times?

While he pondered the strangeness of his seemingly new-found kink, Sarah moved again, and put the brush at the base of his throat, before rubbing the brush along his chest with powerful strokes, taking away what felt to Keith like a few layers of skin, before using slightly lighter strokes on his shaft, a maneuver that elicited howls from Keith and dark laughter from Sarah. His front now even pinker, Sarah stepped back and smiled, walking toward the one part of his body yet untouched by the nigh-scalding solvent: his sore, punctured, branded ass.

As much as Keith would've begged Sarah to relent, he didn't try, for the reasons that, first, the now soaking-wet ball of fabric in his mouth would've muted it, but also that, even had he been more charismatic than a politician, Sarah wouldn't listen anyway. Thus, it was with tears, of pain and impotence, in his eyes that Keith attempted to steel himself for what was coming.

He couldn't.

With a smirk on her face, Sarah pushed the nylon bristles of the piping hot brush against her husband's ass and let the steaming soap run down over the bright cheeks and down the tormented crack between them, running the brush in small circles. The scream that ripped out from Keith was only marginally quieter than the one produced by his branding, but not for lack of effort. His vision swam, and he thought for sure he'd pass out. Just as his tunnel vision was nearing complete, Sarah switched the temperature down to the coldest setting and let it simply ooze onto his ass. While the detergent still stung, the temperature of it felt heavenly, and Keith fought back from the edge of unconsciousness. After a few seconds, Sarah turned the wand off altogether, and stepped in front of him, removing her goggles and looking at him with blue eyes cold enough to freeze over hell itself.

“Don't think what I'm about to do is out of compassion; I just don't wanted you blinded, I want you to see everything else yet to come to you.” As she was saying this, she roughly forced the goggles over Keith's head, situating the lenses over his eyes and then pulling the cords till Keith thought his head might pop like a balloon.

“Just remember, Hon, this was just the pre-wash. The rest of the wash is still coming. Have fun getting clean, baby.” with that, Sarah gave a light slap to his balls and cock, enough to make him yelp, and then she stepped back to the side, grinning and hitting the green button that Keith knew served to continue his torment.

His whole body now red and almost glowing, Keith rolled toward the arches seen from the entrance. As he approached the first arch, another neon sign blinked to life, reading “Tsunami-Wash Pre-Rinse.” Groaning for knowledge of what was next, Keith tucked his chin into his chest and tried to mentally prepare himself for what was to come. He felt the track stop, and as he hung, he swore he could hear the water pressurizing. After what felt like forever, the nozzles which filled the arch burst to life, their water jets seemingly impaling him. Due to the curved nature of the arch, the jets hit his body from one side of his ribs to the other, along with his entire back. The water was ice cold, and it felt as if it was being forced into every possible pore, orifice, and cranny of his body; mercifully, it seemed his chest and front would be spared this aquatic assault.

They wouldn't.

As suddenly as the main jet arch had started, it stopped, and the only sound that could be heard was the rhythmic, grunting, breathing of Keith, and the dripping of his now sopping-wet body. The audio system again droned to life, announcing the “Turbo-Blast Under Carriage Cleaner” was about to activate, to Keith's dread, if not surprise. Keith was pulled forward several feet, till he was over a section of floor grating that looked like a bed of nails. With a start, he realized that each 'spike' was in fact an individually-aimed brass water nozzle, and the several dozen making up the panel were arranged in arcs of fire that converged on his body, particularly between his knees and his belly button. Unsure of what to do, Keith wailed into his gag, and waited for this next violation. With a sound like a hurricane, the jets opened fire on his body, spraying him with a mix of warm water and corrosion -resistant sealant, an oily wax-like chemical he'd had applied to his jeep dozens times in the past, to ward off the salt that came with northern winters; he never expected that he'd ever be so intimately acquainted with the substance.

On the bright side, these jets were both warmer and (slightly) less powerful than the arch. However, he was unsure of the long term health effects of car sealant for reproductive organs. After several numbness-inducing seconds, the jets shut off again, and Keith was again left to listen to the sounds of his body dripping and.... motors?

Keith raised his head and looked forward, curious as the source of the new noise. He could see that the earlier 'barrels' that he saw were indeed car wash brushes, and said brushes were now spinning up to speed ahead of him, and running diagnostics to test their range of motion. As the brushes ran through their preparatory run, Keith gulped, suddenly remembering Sarah's comment about the firmness of the chosen bristles. They might not be able to damage automotive paint, Keith mused, but his flesh was still far more fragile than any car. As these thoughts ran through his mind, Keith felt himself being pulled forward again, towards the whirring embrace of the wrap-arounds.

Resigned now to his fate, Keith let his head drop again, and he again pulled his chin in, and tried his best to grit his teeth, an action made harder by the ball of rags in his mouth. Keith heard the buzzing of the motors growing louder, and he knew they were close... And then, in what seemed like an instant, they were upon him.

In a blinding flash of pain, Keith felt several things happen all at once. He felt the side brushes make contact on both sides at once, somewhere near his armpits. He felt the under-body scrubber push it's scouring bristles into his forehead. And he felt the main brush pushing down on the back of his head. And every last one of them was already spinning and oozing rainbow soap from their pores. Each pair of brushes, the sides and the top/bottom, must've been synced to each other, Keith would later determine; as one the side brushes began blazing down his defenseless sides, from armpit to ankle and back again. Meanwhile, the bottom scrubber and the top brush both surged back, encasing his head in a swirling, soapy hell before running down his back and stomach at equal speed. Then, in the next few seconds, everything ended, at least in Keith's mind.

You see, in the same moment, as the bottom brush reached Keith's manhood and began thoroughly flogging it, the upper brush reached his ass, the seeming epicenter of today's storm of cruelty. In this moment, Keith's mind broke. He howled once, long and loud, and then everything stopped, as he finally lost his grip and passed out.

After what felt like only seconds to Keith, though was actually closer to several minutes, Keith gasped back to reality to the feeling of a hand, cupping one his now thrice-accosted buttocks. The hand was Sarah's, and as his vision swam back into focus, he saw what might have been concern etched onto her face. As she saw his head move, that concern quickly evaporated.

“Couldn't have you sleep threw the rest of your day, could we, Hun?” Sarah chuckled, gently patting Keith's now scratched, bruised, burned, and aching bum. “I have to say, you're doing well so far, you're almost done with this stage. You went out at some point during the scrub phase, and apparently you managed to sleep through the rinse phase as well. All that leaves is the... dryers I think.”

Sarah turned and began to walk away, before stopping for just a moment.

“oh, there IS one step I suppose I forgot, between you and the dryers...” She added cheerfully.

“The Hot Wax!!”

With that, Sarah kept walking away, not stopping again as Keith was dragged forward, Sarah's last sentence still echoing in his shell-shocked mind. As he continued to wake up, his body registered new aches and pains all down his body, courtesy of the man-wash he'd endured already. On the one hand, he knew he only had two steps left. On the other, neither would be gentle.

As Keith mulled these things over, he ground to a stop in the middle of another arch, however this one had an integrated floor unit, similar to the under-carriage wash. Realizing that it was the aforementioned hot wax station, he merely sobbed and waited.

In all honesty, he was somewhat relieved. Compared to the other things he'd endured today, this seemed downright tolerable. While the wax was hotter than the normal shower he'd take, it wasn't nearly so hot as the solvent brush used on him earlier, and the pressure of the jets was the lightest thus far.... While it wasn't exactly pleasant, Keith realized it could, seemingly, be far worse.

Around the time he thought this, he heard what sounded like a swarm of large bees. Craning his neck, he identified the source: arms, similar to those in the scan room. However, these had but a single fixture at their end: a disc, covered in lamb's wool, and rapidly spinning up to speed.

As the jet's finished giving his body a thorough coat of hot car-wax, the buffers descended, touching into his body at a half dozen points and working in the wax there till his skin shone like an oiled bodybuilder's. They roamed over his body, polishing all of him, holding no reverence for his genitals, nor his derriere. This was, again, not necessarily pleasant, but again it was far from the worst he'd experienced. It was, again, almost tolerable, and as much as he hated to say it, he might've enjoyed it even, under better circumstances.

Thus, it was with a different spirit that Keith groaned as the buffers finally pulled away, leaving his skin gleaming and his body tingling, in a not altogether bad way. With a strange stockholm-syndrome like longing, he was pulled further ahead, away from the wax bay and into the final carwash fixture: the drying area. While he'd expected giant hair-dryer style blowers, what he saw was entirely different. He saw Sarah, standing alone in an empty bay, holding microfiber towels and now no longer wearing her yellow poncho, but instead a white tank top and cut off jeans; an outfit that left little to the imagination. Almost against his will, he felt his manhood start to stand to attention. On the one hand, he was furious at Sarah and Michael for the torture they were inflicting on him. On another, though, he knew he had in fact cheated, and that, as twisted as this seemed, he had earned this.

As all of these thoughts bounced around Keith’s head, he was pulled forward till he was in the middle of the drying bay. Sarah approached him, towel in hand, and spoke to him, the same cold anger from before bubbling unmistakably to the surface

“I’m glad that you were able to get cleaned up for our little date, dear,” the last word spat out like bitter medicine. As she spoke, she began somewhat roughly drying off Keith’s still shining skin, starting with his back and then shifting to his legs before ultimately kneeling down to dry off his chest, leaving his cock and ass alone for the first time today... or so Keith thought. Just as he was about to sigh in relief, he saw her step to his side, a sick grin on her face. But, it wasn’t her face that worried him, as much as the towel she now held before her, coiled up tighter than spring.

Sarah saw Keith’s eyes, and she knew that he saw what was waiting, so she took the moment to appreciate the situation: her husband, the love of her life, strung up between two rails, red, shiny, smooth as silk, and utterly terrified, all because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. This last thought angered her, and so she snapped out the towel like a true texas rancher, planting the tip of the towel squarely on Keith’s tip, a shot that elicited a decidedly unmanly shriek. Then, as if the noise was the starting gun for a race, Sarah set upon him, cracking the towel like a bullwhip, targeting his balls, his shaft, his tip, and both of his cheeks till it was all the same cherry red. As she did so, she elaborated to him her plans for their future together, plans whose very existence surprised Keith. He was sure, that, when this was all over, he’d be quietly divorced, and told to never set foot on the ranch again, on threat of another run through the cow processor.

But, as she snapped away, she spoke to him about forgiveness, and reminders. She told him that she was willing to forgive him, and that she still wanted to live out her days with him, she even said that she’d found an online job teaching english to foreign students from her computer, which meant they’d be able to stay at the ranch. This was where the second part of the plan came into play: she knew that, staying on the ranch, he continue to work on the cow processor, and be reminded every day of the price of his mistakes. And, as if that wasn’t enough, she told him that the next stage would be the final one, but one that’d leave the most permanent yet of his ‘souvenirs,’ a thought which terrified Keith all the more as he considered his now permanently marked ass.

As Sarah finished giving her terms, she slung her weapon over her shoulder, and moved to stand next to Keith’s face, where she removed his gag for the first time since this nightmare had started.

“Well, dear, I’ve made my terms clear. If you accept them, we can move on to finishing your sunday morals, and maybe in time for me to cook a nice dinner. So, my loving Keith, what’ll it be?”

As her question echoed in Keith’s mind, he realized it was never really a choice for him. Deep down, he know that he had earned everything that had happened to him today, and everything still yet to happen, so he offered a shaky “yes” to Sarah that he’d live out his end of the deal. With that, Sarah smiled warmly and told him that the processing phase of his induction into the life of cattle was over, and that the milking phase was next.

As Sarah said this, she moved back into the shadows, and Keith could hear the motors starting to spool up that would carry him to be... milked? In his newly ungagged state, Keith shouted his confusion, as he was a (in his own opinion, well endowed) man; surely he couldn’t be milked. The only answer he received was a laugh from the darkness, and a promise that he’d find out what milking meant soon enough.


While Keith pondered what exactly milking meant for him, he felt himself being dragged forward through yet more annoying plastic flaps, into a new room. This room certainly looked the part for a milking parlor, with white ceramic tiles everywhere and plenty of stainless steel tubing and glass tanks. The only things that made it stand out from every other milking parlor in Texas were the various large, HD displays mounted throughout the room, and the legion of robotic arms mounted on sliding tracks in the floor and on the ceiling, wielding a number of different implements. As Keith slid into the center of this mechanized dairy, he stopped in what would’ve been the first of the milking bays, after which a matched set of foam-lined steel half circles came together around his neck, trapping him and forcing his head into position, to look at the TV with a large 1 painted on the wall beneath it.

Keith was beginning to feel like he had a grip on what was going on, but that was soon dispelled by the appearance of Michael and Sarah on the screen in front of him, apparently streaming in from the main control center.

“City boy! Glad to see ya survived the cleanin’ we put ya through without too much harm. Now, I’m sure yer wonderin’ what all we’ve still got in store for ya…. Yer a smart guy, city boy, so I’m sure you realize that ya can’t really milk a bull, and as yer current state reveals, you sure ain’t no cow…” As Michael delivered this last line, he broke into a hearty laugh, and reached down to push some keys which caused the image on the screen to split. Michael and Sarah now occupied half of the screen, with the other half becoming a composite of various angles of Keith, clearly showing his branded ass and throbbing cock. Having been too confused and in too much pain to feel shame up to this point, Keith would have blushed, had his skin not already been so red.

“Now, like I was sayin’,” Michael drawled, “you’d have a hard time milkin’ a bull. But, that’s only for regular cows. City boy, don’t forget, yer a new breed! This here cattle processor, as I’m sure you know seein’ as you helped build it, can adapt its milkin’ technique from breed to breed. So, when we was settin’ up the Homo Fallax profile, we just flipped it, so that the computer knows yer a bull, but in this breed, it’s bulls who get milked!” Michael seemed to have trouble getting out the latin name for the breed, but was no less enthusiastic, seeming to be genuinely excited to tell Keith about what he and Sarah had set up. The longer Michael talked, the more worried Keith’s face became. He had a sinking feeling that he knew what was coming, but it was Sarah’s comment about a permanent souvenir that worried him most.

“Well, city boy, that’s the long and short of it… yer a bull of the Homo Fallax breed, and yer overdue for a good milkin’.... just listen to the computer, and I’ll see you outside, city boy!” With that, Michael pressed more keys on the keyboard in front of him, and his and Sarah’s image faded from the display, meaning the tv was now full of the many views of Keith.

As Keith pondered Michael’s statement, he heard servo motors start to move, and the computer began to speak. *NOW BEGINNING MILKING PROCEDURE FOR HF000001 ‘KEITH’* The computer spoke in an emotionless tone, the only change being that when it spoke Keith’s name, it again used the same recording of Sarah from earlier. *MILKING PROCEDURE, STEP 1: ATTACHMENT OF MAGNETIC MILKING-TUBE ALIGNMENT DEVICE. PLEASE BE AS STILL AS POSSIBLE, KEITH, AS THIS DEVICE IS PERMANENT AND MISTAKES MAY MEAN LATER HARM TO YOUR UDDERS.*

At this, Keith panicked, because he knew that his ‘udders’ had only one teat, and it was distinctly cock shaped! As he thought this, he decided to just do what the computer said, and he tried to remain as still as possible. He heard an arm move below him, and he felt it put together two metallic pieces on his shaft, just below the rim of the head, forming a donut shape around his penis, snug but not too tight. Then, as the first arm held the two pieces together, another arm reached out and zapped the edges of the collar with an arc welder, fusing them permanently together around his dick.

“Well, this is what Sarah must’ve meant about souvenirs…” mused Keith as he could now feel the slight weight pulling down on his member. He supposed he’d just have to get used to it, since it didn’t seem like it’d be going anywhere. As soon as the computer was confident the ring was secure, the arms retreated, and the computer spoke again.


“Well, this is it… showtime” mused Keith as he looked at the screen and saw a silver milking tube rise up from the floor to be level with his cock. The tube seemed to hover in front of him for a second, before the electromagnets in its rim activated and thus brought it into perfect alignment with his cock, thanks to his new jewelery. As soon as it was lined up, it slid forward, encompassing his dick in warm, lubricated rubber. Just as Keith began to think he might not mind being a milking bull, the vacuum pumps came on.

They quickly dispelled this notion.

The pumps roared to life, and the tube began to pull hard on his cock, feeling as though the tube would rip it off. Just as it seemed like he would be emasculated, the pump reversed and the suction relaxed for a moment, allowing Keith to breathe a sigh of relief. However, all too quickly this respite ended and the pump again sucked on Keith’s member like it was trying to pull a baseball through a straw. And, so it went, cycling between suck and relax, with the added punishment that after every cycle the rest period got shorter, till the vacuum pump sounded like a machine gun. Keith was unable to resist the brutal attentions of the milker, and he came more than once, which led to only more pain since his sensitive, post-spurt cock was afforded no mercy. After what felt like eternity, actually only 25 minutes, the computer announced that Keith had reached his quota for the morning, and would be released shortly, and that his next milking was to be in 6 hours. Thankfully, Michael and Sarah ran Keith out through the exit of the machine and left him and his aching, bruised penis to think. They unhooked him from the rails, and left him on the floor of the processing barn, with the only additional info being that dinner was at 6, and he was not to be late.

Keith laid on the floor for a while, confused at the lack of clothing left for him. But, as he watched the clock on the wall, he saw the 3 become a 4, and then 5. At 5:30, he came to the conclusion that this was another part of his punishment, and that he was supposed to attend dinner in the nude. For a split second he wondered if he should shower before the meal, and then let out a bitter laugh considering the cleaning he’d already gone through. And so, Keith reported to the meal, his only adornments the seemingly permanent blush over his whole body and the small metal ring on his manhood.

At the meal, Sarah spelled out to Keith that she was happy he was able to see the error of his ways, and that she was glad he’d continue to live on the farm with her and Michael. The last thing she said was that she felt that the ring looked good on Keith, and that, as part of his now full time employment offer, he’d be required to spend his time on the ranch in the nude. He immediately objected, but as he went to stand up his ring clanged against the table, and everyone went silent. After an awkward moment, Sarah laughed and asked Keith if wanted another processor run to give him time to think about it. After standing for a brief moment, Keith determined he very much did NOT, and so he agreed to work in the nude.


So the story went of Keith and Sarah. They lived together on the farm, and as the years went by, Sarah began to wear about as much clothing as Keith. Over time, Keith related to her that, deep down, he found a certain kinkiness in his run through the processor. After her initial shock, Sarah agreed to at least hear him out. After many long, late conversations, it was agreed that they would create another new breed, with far gentler processing requirements, to enjoy together. And so they did, living as nudists in the texas sun, and missing church every once in awhile to ride the machine that defined their relationship.


Thanks for reading! Im sure there are some of you out there complaining about the dangerous things done, or similar topics… To those of you doing so: relax! I know this is a fantasy, and only a fantasy, so I figure that it’s ok to let realism slide. Enjoy reading, because I loved writing it, and who knows, maybe I’ll write more in the future


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