Top Secret: Milktec Industries Presents

Colonel William Harris sat alone in a dark office. Light from the checkpoint outside filtered in through the mostly closed blinds. He wore his full uniform, a splash of service medals on the jacket. The day had been a long one. Yet another bond raising initiative surrounded by grinning politicians with greasy hands. More money, more supplies, and more men — a constant creed repeated through the upper tiers of the military these days. Very rarely did anyone talk about tactics or deployment strategies. Those were afterthoughts only brought up when all the money, supplies, and men needed to be used up so that they could get more replacements.

The glad-handing work did not occupy the Colonel’s mind as he brought a half burned cigarette to his lips. On the desk in front of him laid a file bearing the name Tracy Meadows. The young woman had caught him off guard in one of the breaks between speeches. She’d asked some pointed questions, the kind that she shouldn’t have known to ask at all. “The Missing Three” she had called them. Colonel Harris couldn’t help but admire the reporter’s cleverness.

The three men had vanished from the rolls after a bullheaded general decided that the cover up needed more cover. Harris wanted to leave the soldiers on the casualty list. It wouldn’t raise suspicion, at least not for a while, and in the meantime they could have worked up a story. Hell, in the past, they’d outright replaced GIs with fakes. Pay the parents enough, and they’ll gladly accept whoever the military sent back as their son. War changes people, after all, and so many mothers and fathers didn’t get their boy back at all. After a while, Harris thought they might even come to an understanding. And if they didn’t? Well, option two always remained. That’s not how the Missing Three would go though, as they presented unique problems. General Howitz decided that any trace of the three young men should be eradicated. Harris knew that this was in no small part due to Howitz’s too deep connection to Milktec’s board of trustees. As a compromise, Harris lobbied to have the three men moved under his care. He knew he couldn’t stop the experiments, but at least on his base he could make sure his men could be taken care of. They were still his men, he believed, even if there wasn’t much man left about them.

The three men once had names, but now were referred to only by code designations Alpha, Beta, and Gamma. Their original names were redacted from every file. Their families were paid or silenced to make sure no one remembered the boys ever existed. The three were returned to America under black ops supervision, contained within no-look cells. Harris put them on the plane, and Harris took them off. The number of people who knew what happened to the Three remained as small as possible until Op-Sec showed up. Politicians always wanted to know details that they didn’t need. In this case, one came to understand the true nature of “need to know.” As far as anyone else knew, Senator Jillian Murphy died in a very tragic car accident, but Harris knew the truth. Jillian Murphy lived on, tucked away in a dark corner of the top secret base. Harris wasn’t certain if the former senator regretted her curiosity or not.

The thought brought him back to the file on his desk. Tracy Meadows was a rarity in the modern world. Milktec was changing everything, slowly and insidiously. After the first surge of war, women had joined the workforce in droves. Then the Long War came. As many men were coming home as were going off. Right alongside it, Milktec Industries started to spin up factories nationwide. Suddenly, all those women could find better pay becoming Milktec employees. The company tried to downplay the side effects of their serums and treatments, but anyone looking at the big picture knew what was really going on. They might trot out some fresh faced youths who did a short stint with a watered down formula, but all over the place there were cases of extreme transformations. Soldiers started coming home expecting to find their blushing brides, but instead finding sex crazed milk machines. Not that it created much complaining. The government kept things hushed up, and the public went on believing that the world was getting better. Most of the public, anyway. A few squeaky wheels popped up from time to time, like Tracy.

Harris opened the folder as he stubbed out his cigarette. He’d looked through it twice already, but wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d memorized the whole of it. Tracy was twenty-two, a college graduate, and working for an independent newspaper out of Baltimore. That presented a problem in itself. The government had their thumb on most of the press, but lately a few of these upstart publications had started popping up across the country. One out of Chicago had run a story about one of the Milktec research facilities in southern Illinois causing no shortage of headaches. Harris didn’t like to think of what had happened to the supervising officer working with that shop. Tracy’s paper could present the same issue for him. He pulled out a legal pad and a pen, jotting down the publication’s name.

He continued on with her file. Born to Richard and Carol Meadows of New Jersey. Older parents who had Tracy late in life. Richard died at sixty-three of a persistent pneumonia. Carol currently lives in San Francisco with her sister. From the phone records Op-Sec pulled, Tracy doesn’t call more than once every three months. Such is the gratitude of an independent daughter. As far as friends went, Tracy seemed to be more or less a loner. She had no lasting connection with anyone she met in college or childhood. Harris could see why. With older parents, she’d grown up with older sensibilities and likely found her peers to be too childish to develop much kinship with. Any others that might have struck up a bond with the young woman likely got roped into the Milktec world. Perhaps that’s what inspired Tracy’s own investigations.

The folder contained a few articles she’d written. None of them explicitly called out Milktec, but it was a clear undercurrent. The company or a person connected with the company did appear in each of Tracy’s articles, which seemed to focus on financial dealings and military contracts. Harris gritted his teeth. Someone had passed a memo from one aide to the next. It had been about Milktec, and it had been about the Three, or maybe just one of the names. That’s all it would have taken for Tracy to get a scent of it. She’d have crossed the names with the public rolls, maybe found it initially, and then when she checked a month later, the name was gone. Any reporter worth their salt would have gotten curious as to names disappearing. Usually, the military could pawn them off as being lost in the system so long as the name showed back up eventually in one column or the other. Not this time though. Tracy would already have one crumb leading to Milktec and one crumb leading to those names. From there, it was chasing paper.

And that paper had led her to the Battle of Kiev Memorial observation in the West Virginian hills where only select reporters were meant to be in attendance. The idea was to take a few pictures, have some staged photos showing the military right alongside the civilians, and then everyone would have a piece of Milktec-made pie. Somehow, though, this thorn had come in with the roses. She’d cornered the colonel and begun to ask questions about the disappearance of the name Peter Horne. Colonel Harris knew him now only as Beta. The clever girl had somehow learned that Private Horne had served in Harris’s unit. She’d worked out even that records of Private Horne got spotty after August 7th, a date entirely too close to the actual date of the incident for Harris to let it go. Miss Meadows was chasing the right thread and getting closer by the second to finding the root of it all.

Harris closed the folder and loosened his collar. He reached into the bottom desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of scotch along with a glass. He poured a generous amount. He gulped it down in one swallow and poured another. He knew what he had to do. The thought brought a sardonic smile to his face. The places the higher ups decided to draw the line were ridiculous. Before the war, human values had been so simple, but now everything had gone haywire. Sometimes Harris thought that the world split, like in some kind of science fiction story. In one version, he was a grizzled commander seeing out the end of a long, bitter campaign against the communists. In this one though, he’d become some kind of covert bureaucrat mixed with a mad scientist. The lines of what was acceptable had shifted with him. Killing a journalist was out of the question, at least before exhausting other options. And one of those options involved meeting the Missing Three. The Senator Murphy experience, as he thought of it.

Colonel Harris picked up the phone and the office filled with the clicks of the spinning rotary. After two dull tones, a voice answered, “General Fredrickson’s office.”

“This is Colonel William Harris, authentication Bravo Zulu Whiskey Nine.”

“Hold please.”

More tones. Harris took another drink. The General’s voice barked over the phone, “What is it Harris?”

“Good evening, sir. Sorry to bother you, but I need authorization before proceeding with an op.” Harris paused. He could almost hear the general’s lips curling. Fredrickson had not gotten to his position through bravery and heroism. He’d scraped together his promotions through cunning and connections. For that, Harris hated him. “We have a reporter that’s passed the red zone regarding our work here. With your permission, I’ll go ahead with the Flashbang Protocol.”

“Oh yes? Reporter you say? A young woman?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What will happen to her afterward?” The general’s voice grew quieter.

Harris knew what he wanted. It wasn’t an uncommon request for the result of a Flashbang, but he would be damned if he turned over Tracey to Fredrickson. The things he heard about the general caused his stomach to turn. Even in the new, changed world, Harris still had some decency. Moreover, he was glad to pluck a plum from the general’s grasp. “She will remain at our facility. Due to the nature of our work here, it would be too great a liability to transfer her. Equally, as exposed subjects are so few, it will be beneficial to add her to the research team.”

“Very well, colonel. But, I expect you to start producing some kind of result out of that shop you’re running. In fact, I have a secretary that might be interested in an exchange program.” The general’s words dripped with evil. “I expect a report on the result as soon as it’s done. When do you expect to being?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Anything else?”

“No sir.” Nothing more was said. The line went dead with a rattling click. Harris pressed down the receiver to get a fresh dial tone. He took the last swig of scotch before dialing the next number. This time the phone rang with a long chirrup. The voice that answered was soft, feminine, and suspicious. “May I speak with Miss Meadows?”

“This is she, who is calling?”

“Ah, Miss Meadows, this is Colonel Harris. We spoke earlier today about your article on Private Peter Horne. I spoke with our HR department, and I’ve pulled some files that may be of help to you. I also have some of Peter’s squad mates on base if you’d like to interview them.”

The reporter did not answer for a long while. “That’s oddly helpful of you, colonel. Most of the time, I hit a wall when talking with the military brass.”

“And you almost did this time as well. I won’t say that I’m particularly enthused about you snooping around, but since there’s no rot to find here, I think it best to air it out. Could you come to the base tomorrow at about ten?”

Another long pause. Perhaps she sensed the trap, but the bait was too alluring. Access to a private base at the hand of a high ranking officer could mean a wondrous story. “Of course, I’ll be there.”

“That’s fine. Check in at the gate, I’ll have left instructions for your escort. With any luck, we’ll be able to put this matter to rest. Good night, Miss Meadows.” He hung up before she could reply.

He poured another drink.

Tracy arrived at the gate the next morning five minutes early. Two burly soldiers with severe looks stopped her and proceed to make phone calls before handing her over to a different pair of burly soldiers. These weren’t the run of the mill men that usually stayed stateside. Those consisted of a gaggle of awkward, malnourished half-men in uniforms which the military paraded around with a sense of entitlement while the real soldiers were overseas in the remains of Berlin. No, the guards escorting her had a little something to them already. Perhaps they were being primed for deployment or perhaps the supplements were standard issue for this level of security. Either way, Tracy knew when men were juiced on Milktec Milk, not the stuff found in the supermarket, but the stuff they only talked about in whispers.

They moved her along the base, saying little other than her name. She kept her watchful eyes open, but did not see anything remotely interesting. The base, as she would expect, looked to be a normal military installation. There were troops out running PT, officers arguing over inventory management, and a general sense of urgency that came from military training, spurred specifically by the punishment of idleness. Tracy did not bother to ask her escorts any questions. She knew they wouldn’t answer anything even if they knew. They were polite in a formal sort of way, but it was also clear immediately that they saw nothing of value in her. Living in the new world, Tracy had become accustomed to the judgmental stares. A-cups were a badge of honor to her, as was her ability to wear pants. The butts on some of the women got so big that they could only wear dresses comfortably. She found the dismissive or scornful looks even in the steeled faces of the military men, as if a normal, unchanged woman offended them. Tracy proudly flaunted her average figure. The callous eyes of men weren’t the worst, though. The worst came from the women, almost toppling over due to their milk laden breasts, looking at her with pure pity.

Eventually they reached their destination, a small circular building near the center of the base. On either side of it, the administrative buildings rose up twenty stories like two massive sentries. A second checkpoint blocked their path and, for the first time in all her investigations, Tracy felt a chill of worry. An immense steel fence topped with razor wire surrounded the circular building. The guards at the checkpoint wore full armor as well as the things the jarheads called “death breathers”, gas masks that had been formed into a skull shape for some devilish purpose. The tube running out of the mask’s mouth went down to a breathing apparatus at the hip that wheezed and hissed with each breath. One guard stood at the gate, three more paced on either side, watching the military personnel moving about as suspiciously as they would a soviet. Beyond the checkpoint, Tracy saw Colonel Harris standing at attention. He gave a wave to his men, and they all pulled back for a moment, but she could feel their eyes on her.

“Good morning, Miss Meadows,” the colonel said as she darted through the gate. “I thought we’d come straight here rather than give you the run around. How are you?”

“To be honest, a bit nervous,” she admitted. Despite his cool nature, something about Harris could be considered charismatic. She could tell why men would follow him. “This seems excessive for a stateside military facility.”

“This is a highly classified area,” he said. He waved for her to follow. Dumbfounded, she did. They passed through a door and into the circular building. Harris walked briskly along a walkway before turning left, back towards the exterior of the building, into a small office. To her right was a smooth, uninterrupted wall. She knew then that she was next door to some kind of silo. The office they stepped into was nothing more than a table and two chairs. It was an interview room or interrogation, she knew. Harris settled himself and moved a stack of papers in front of him. “Now, we have a little to discuss before we go any further. You have a good eye, Miss Meadows, and you’ve caught the scent of a national secret.”

“I am following the missing names of —”

“Please, allow me to explain. You’ve done nothing illegal and you’ve done no harm, but before you proceed, I must know whether or not you wish to actually go through with it. These papers are your chance to walk away. I can assure you that they are not an uncommon arrangement. The materials you can see if we go further today will be of a highly sensitive nature. We intended for them to remain as such for the foreseeable future, but if you’re on to it, then surely someone else is not far behind. In that event, we would like to control the story rather than have the story control us. But, before that, if it is possible, we would like to stop the story here.”

“I’m not sure what you mean? If it’s classified, then you could just ignore me. If it’s properly classified, then you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.” Her mind had started to turn. The gentle expression on Harris’s face had conned her for a moment, but wouldn’t work twice. She resolved to get her story no matter what.

“I have plenty of things to worry about, Miss Meadows. This is a small pebble in an avalanche of boulders. I am thinking more for your sake than my own. These papers are a legal contract meant to keep your story in check for six months. In return, you get our full cooperation as we pull back the curtain. This prevents information from leaking before we are ready. Information that could be used to give us a disadvantage.”

“Or information that could simply reflect poorly on certain men with stars on their shoulders,” she said. “No thanks, colonel. If you’re not interested in helping me, I can go my own route.”

Harris held up his hand. “I only needed to ask. You won’t hold it against me, I hope.”

“Of course not.”

“Very well, let’s proceed.”

He pushed the folder aside and stood up, leading her out of the room.

They went around to the rear of the building to where a gap finally appeared in the interior stone wall. A short hallway led them to an elevator. The cold feeling returned as he stepped inside and beckoned her to follow. He could easily be taking her down to a place that she would not return from. But she had little choice now. She’d foolishly walked into the lion’s den. He shut the elevator gate behind her and then two steel doors closed as well. The elevator jerked into motion. Other than the hum of the gears, the box descended silently The drop went on and on in a slow crawl to the bowels of the earth.

“My editor knows I came out here, you know,” she blurted out nervously.

Harris seemed to expect this, “Yes, I think you’ll probably want to let him know you’re all right in an hour or so. But first, you should see what we have.”

“You said that you had documents and some of Peter Horne’s squad mates?”

“I have something better. I have Peter Horne. Can I ask, did you notice the other two names missing? They’re also from his unit.”

Once more the uneasy feeling surged forward. This man knew more than she could ever hope to know. He was a monstrous cat toying with her. “No, I didn’t. Are those the squad mates you mentioned?”

“Yes.”

“And you have no objection to my interviewing them.”

“None at all.”

The elevator hit its destination with a sudden jerk. The doors opened to a long hall with blue lights on either side. Otherwise, it was entirely empty. Harris explained, “Most people don’t know, but this base was built with a very different purpose in mind. It was meant to be a shelter for the surrounding populace in the event of an atomic attack. So there’s barracks down here. Dining halls. Rec rooms. Water filtration systems. Protein synthesis tech. Everything you could want or need. Hell, you could survive down here for a hundred years. Or at least until you got sick of eating canned food.” He walked quickly, taking turns that seemed arbitrary. Though every inch of the place was well lit, clean, and even comfortable looking, they did not encounter a single other person. He finally came to a stop in front of a door. “Here we are, Dormitory C. Usually there’s more traffic down here, but I asked everyone to clear out today. Didn’t want them getting stopped by a reporter. We have more than one secret after all.” An intercom next to the door chirped to life. The colonel leaned to it and said, “Colonel William Harris.” A loud click echoed up and down the hallway. He pulled open the door. “Everything you want to know is inside, but I’ll ask you one last time. There are some secrets best left unknown. Do you want to proceed.”

Much of her didn’t, but her mind wouldn’t give up the idea that this was all an intimidation tactic. If she gave up, he could shut the door and lead her back out, robbing her of any shred of integrity. “Yes.”

“After you,” he said.

She stepped through the door. It shut behind her. She turned to it and pulled at the handle.

“Only a precaution,” said Harris over the intercom. “If they got out, even onto the base, god knows how far it would go. Have fun, Miss Meadows. And please, don’t hold it against me.” The slight hiss of the intercom stopped. Colonel Harris was gone.

Tracy turned to face the room ahead of her, smelling something wonderful in the air.

Tracy heard movement. She tried the door again, but the magnet lock had been activated. With no where else to go, she stepped forward into the room. “Hello? Private Horne?” The sight of the dormitory alarmed her. On one side of the room, a tangle of metal and splintered wood had been shoved into a corner. The bunks had been stripped of their mattresses and thrown aside like discarded candy bar wrappers. The mattresses had been moved into three piles in different spots of the room. The space had been meant for dozens of people, but now it looked like the floor of an abandoned factory. Out of place oddities dotted the wide room. On one wall a large television set with a myriad of wires was built into the wall. In the middle of the floor, a wide radio sat. Near the mangle of beds, several books rested in various states of destruction. Whoever had tried to read them had clearly grown frustrated.

Another noise. Tracy spotted a pair of doors at the back leading into an adjoining room. Judging by the green subway tile, it lead to bathrooms and showers. Someone or something was back there. She sniffed the air again. What was that smell? It was alluring and calming. She knew, intellectually, that she should be terrified, but instead she felt very much at home. She even started to judge which pile of mattresses might be the most comfortable. More noise, footsteps, but heavy and slow. She looked around for a place to hide, but what good with that do? Tracey decided to face the newcomer head on, bizarre circumstances or not.

The creature that emerged from the bath took her breath away. He was tall, seven or maybe eight feet. She’d seen tall men before, but nothing like this. Even the above average height men seemed to be stretched, like too little taffy pulled long. Not this man, though she hesitated to use the word man at all. Full, muscular limbs and a torso of coiled sinew led down to cloven feet. The hooves sported a thick coat of wet fur that ran up his legs before thinning around his belly only to return all the stronger around his chest. For it was, if nothing else, male. She knew that by the massive cock and balls swinging between his muscular thighs. She’d seen her share of men, both regular and enhanced. Pictures of all sorts of things got around, but nothing like this. His phallus was as big as her forearm and the heavy sack below contained balls as big as grapefruit. More startling still was the thing’s head. A minotaur, she thought. That’s what he’s become down here at the bottom of Harris’s labyrinth. And I’m the maiden sent to appease him. A pair of shiny, obsidian horns shot out from the temples of the otherwise human shaped head. The mane of hair continued up the neck and over the face, as though the man’s beard had grown rampant. The man’s, or minotaur’s nose, flared out in huge nostrils, more bull like than human. A pair of intelligent, black eyes looked out from that mass of hair, focusing intently on Tracy. The thing’s massive cock had begun to stir.

Tracy, for only a moment, considered running. Then her body flushed. The scent in the room had grown too strong, but more importantly, she loved it. The creature approached on slow, cautious steps. Each inch created a stronger aura of desire around her. Her body rebelled against reason. Her pussy grew wet. Her nipples began to ache. Even her mouth began to water. The cock, that glorious member, was oozing a clear globe of liquid. She wanted nothing more in the world than to taste it. As the manbeast approached, she noticed a brand on his chest, the Greek letter, Beta. In the remaining fragments of her lust addled mind, she wondered if this was Private Horne or one of the others. Then the thought was gone, replaced by a need for him inside of her. She dropped to her knees as he stepped close enough for a pure whiff of his musk. It staggered her, pushing her close to an orgasm without so much as touching herself. Her breasts ached to be free of her clothes, but she would get to that eventually. First, she knew she needed to service her male.

Beta seemed to find her curious. His wide, thick hands awkwardly caressed the side of her face. Was this not the first time this had happened? With his other hand, he’d begun to stroke his cock. Eagerly, Tracy added her hands to the task. She pushed her head forward and opened her mouth as wide as she could, but it was no use. The size of his cock would stretch her jaw to a degree of pain, but the bull-man seemed to understand this. He held her head still and allowed her to continue jerking him off. A veritable river of precum began to ooze from the tip of his cock. It coated her hands as she pumped. She greedily brought it to her mouth. It tasted like manna from heaven, unlike anything she’d ever experienced, and she knew she wanted more. Or better, she wanted the real stuff. She wanted his thick spunk to coat the back of her throat, to splash on her face, to mark her tits. From the sound of her new lover, it wouldn’t be long before she got her wish.

A low rumble began in his chest, but she could feel the vibration of it in his cock. She stroked faster, desperate to have her prize. Tracy pulled his cock to the opening of her mouth and felt a burst of excitement as his cock started to twitch in her hands. The first pulse of cum rushed up the underside of Beta’s dick. It sprayed into her mouth, coating her tongue with its delicious flavor. She gulped it down, fixing her mouth around his spurting tip, feeling his warm cum rush down her throat. She swallowed again and again, but more of it kept coming. How long had Beta been pent up like this she wondered, feeling sorry for the thing. She pulled away to gasp for air, and his cock spurted two more heavy gushes onto her face and chest. Thrilled, Tracy let out a delirious gurgle as she rubbed the warm, white fluid into her skin.

Beta stepped back from her and crouched down onto his haunches. It was then that she noticed the tale swishing behind him. The ludicrousness of it caused the fervor of lust to snap for a moment. The horror of what she’d done rushed over her. She looked down at her hands to find them covered in the abomination’s fluid. Her skin tingled everywhere that it had touched. Even with the momentary return of her mental clarity, the ache in her body had not subsided. Giving it a moment’s thought increased it tenfold. Her pussy ached to be filled, her breasts yearned to be touched, and, above all, her skin needed to be free. Tracy had known that this could happen, somewhere in the annals of her mind. She’d read a report, very secret and very dangerous to acquire, that described the Milktec serum working almost like a virus. Of course, there were rumors that drinking milk from the source could make a man more virile. Or having sex with a breeder might make a woman into a sex hungry slut. But those were rumors.

Tracy could feel the changes starting and knew this was no rumor. Beta watched her, a tight lipped smile on his face that showed pride or eagerness? Tracy wasn’t sure. She groaned and doubled over as a tingling sensation in her core spread out like a shocking fire. Her clothes felt like vices confining her. She clawed at her shirt until she found purchase in a loose flap. She pulled with surprising strength, tearing the garment across the waist. It wasn’t enough. She grabbed the neckline and pulled again. The shirt and ineffectual bra came away and fell to the floor. Her small tits had already changed. They’d grown into modest C-cups and were filling out quickly. She looked at them with a half mad laugh, bringing up her hands to cup them gingerly. Soon, she knew, they would be filled with milk. In the meantime, she had other problems. Her hips had started to push the limits of her pants and her feet ached in her designer shoes. She kicked away the shoes with ease, pleased to see that she still had feet for the moment, but the pants presented a new problem. Her hips had filled out considerably already and the fabric was cutting into her growing flesh. She reached around to feel the new, wobbling globes of her growing rump and tried to find a way to peel off the garment.

Beta stepped forward to help. He hooked his hands into either side of her waistline and pulled in one fast motion. A loud rip echoed through the empty room, and her new body sprang free. Tracy was gone. In her place was a new person. Her old life already seemed distant and fading. She knew that it would be gone entirely soon, and it was a joyous thought. She looked up with admiration at her new mate. His cock had already returned to its full splendor. She got down on her hands and knees and presented her growing rump to him. She wanted to feel him fuck her. She wanted his calloused hands to maul her tits while he pumped her first calf into her. Then she would be a good hucow to him. She’d spend every day speared on his cock or drinking his cum or letting him drink her milk. Then their own son would be born, a new, virile type of creature that would change the world. She looked back at Beta, pulled her cheeks apart to show off her newly puffy pussy lips. The sight enticed the male, and he knelt behind her, lining his cock up with her newly accommodating entrance.

Even as her body changed, the bull’s cock still stretched her to the limit. His hands took greedy hold of her new flesh, kneading his fingers into the expanding butt that she would soon only think of as her rump. As inch after inch of his cock slid inside of her, she let out a low moan. She knew that soon it would be even less human, but she hoped she would never suffer the humiliation of mooing while her man fucked her. Unless it made him cum faster, that is. As he bottomed out inside of her, she felt a strange quiver in her breasts. Looking down underneath her, she saw that they had ballooned out to a size she couldn’t comprehend. The puffy nipples had turned darker and the once small nubs had grown a bit longer. Balancing herself on one hand, she reached up and pinched the nipple of her right udder. A burst of pleasure radiated from her chest as a few drops of milk splashed into her palm. She smiled.

Beta started to push into her with purpose. His furred, but muscular thighs slapped against the back of her ass. His massive balls began to swing forward and slap against her engorged pussy lips. Each hit send a new wave of pleasure through her body. Though seconds before she’d vowed to never moo, that had already changed. It started as a rumble in her throat that soon became a loud shout. The sound urged her mate on. She felt his cock shaking inside her once more. The first dose of his cum had made her a milky hucow. She wondered what the second would do?

Her attention was stolen from the blissful moment by movement at the back of the room. Her eyes lit up with joy and excitement as two other figures stepped into the room. Their cocks were stiff and eager to have a turn at their new cow. She beckoned them over right before Beta released a torrent of cum inside of her. She knew she was pregnant immediately, and that pushed her into a mind breaking orgasm. Her pussy clamped on the invading cock, milking every drop of the cum from his balls. Her breasts churned with a pleasurable heat as milk started to flow easily out of her and splash the ground beneath. She raised up to press her body against Beta as one of the other males arrived. He bent down and latched his mouth on her spurting nipple, drinking in her nectar with a pleased grunt. Beta stepped away and his cum slid down her inner thighs, but it did not deter the next bull, the one with a Gamma on his chest, from sliding his slick cock right inside of her. Gamma did take the liberty of putting his wide thumb against the button of her ass, pushing gently as if promising to explore other methods later.

Alpha pulled away from her breast and let her drop back to her hands. She smiled up at him and opened her mouth wide. It seemed right that Beta got to breed her first, but now she could happily enjoy the others. She’d not realized it, but her body had grown alongside her features. She could now comfortably fit her males’ cocks, at least part of them, into her mouth. Her tongue lapped at the opening in Alpha’s cock, teasing out the first drops of his distinct cum.

She smiled around his cock as Beta laid down underneath her. He took her hanging udder into his mouth and began to drink. She was able to reach over and start stroking his cock back to life. As she moaned and thrashed on the different thick members, she wondered how she’d even gotten there.

Colonel Harris turned off the monitor. It went black with a quieting hum. His tented pants embarrassed him, but he made no further acknowledgment of it. He made a few notes in his report. Part of him felt guilty, but he had promised to take care of his men, no matter what. Now, he doubted that he could get Tracy out even with brute force. First, he’d have to best the three males, and then he’d have to somehow grapple with her. She would never want to leave their side, no matter what.

He still had her editor to deal with. A few other acquaintances that might miss her, but the deed was done. No one would be foolish enough to look too hard. And even if they did. There was plenty of room in that dormitory.

Harris gathered up his things and prepared to leave, casting one wary glance to the monitor. They’d managed to separate the former senator from the bulls before they had a chance to breed her. Harris wondered what sort of new abomination would come of such a union. It gave him a strange feeling, the kind that usually portended ill luck. This bunker wouldn’t hold them forever. Something would have to be done. The government, his superiors, and the good politicians of America wouldn’t want such things to walk in daylight, but Colonel Harris had made a promise. If a day came where he had to choose to destroy the men or risk the world…

He’d made a promise. No matter what.