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Milking Prison Restitution

Chapter 1

For player567

By Draconicon

Sandra thought that the full-body cuffs were overkill. Considering that neither she nor the other prisoners decked out in orange had been accused or convicted of anything violent, it felt utterly ridiculous to put all the restraints on them. Her ears folded over the back of her head as she tried not to think of what she'd tell her lawyer. Considering the deal he'd made for her at the courthouse, she seriously doubted that he was on her side anymore.

Restitution? What the fuck?! she'd shouted at him. It's bad enough that they found me guilty, but you signed me up for this...this...

It's better than staying in prison for twenty years for stealing $25k.

I never stole anything.

Whatever. The court says you did. If you were in regular prison, you wouldn't see a free day for at least a decade, and that's if you were lucky. This program has you out in five years, at most. Sooner if you do what you're told.

The condescending little rat bastard had been so sure of himself, so...so smug. And why should he be that smug? He was barely more than a public defender. Probably not even that good at his job.

She would have crossed her arms, but the cat was too well-secured. Her arms were pinned to her waist with her chains, just like the six other women in the transport van. They were forced to stare straight ahead, never looking sideways, always aware of the fact that they were no longer free, no longer allowed to roam the world as they pleased.

Or, well, as free as their means allowed. Sandra shook her head. So much for that plan.

"Attention, prisoners. We're about to enter the Milking Farm Facility. Please prepare to disembark."

She shook her head, pulling her thoughts back to the present. If she was going to be stuck in this unfair deal, she might as well see if there were any terms and conditions that she could manipulate in her favor. There was always something available; she knew the nature of people well enough to know that.

The van - windowless, dark, save for the overhead light - pulled to a stop. The drivers moved around, and a few seconds later, the back door opened. The officers stepped inside, pulling the gap-chairs out of the way and creating an aisle for her and the other prisoners to step out of the van.

"Come on, come on. Let's get you inside for processing," a cow-woman said, patting Sandra on the shoulder. "Don't want to be late for your first day, eh?"

"Shut up," the cat muttered.

"Oh, you want to talk back?"

"..."

"That's what I thought. Be good to the people here, and they'll be good to you. Piss 'em off, and there's no telling what kind of lessons you can learn."

The cow-woman moved between the other rows, dragging the others out of their seats, while Sandra waited for her neighbor - a large-hipped orca - to get up and move out of the way. Soon as she was out, Sandra followed, gritting her teeth as the chains pulled at her shoulders and arms from their weight.

As soon as she stepped foot out of the van, she could tell that this was a very different place to what she'd been imagining. With a name like the Milking Farm, she'd expected a place where the dwelling places were huts and cottages, that they would be somewhere out in the middle of nowhere to 'build character' rather than to be taught hard lessons.

This was different. All around them was a dome, one that loomed about fifty feet overhead at the tallest point, with one exit that had tire treads leading back to it back the way they'd come and one smaller, obviously pedestrian exit in the direction the van was pointed in. The ground underfoot was hard, obviously meant to discourage anyone that wasn't booted up like the guards, and she winced as she walked barefoot around the van to join the orca at the front.

The other prisoners were talking to each other already, some of them muttering about being here in the first place, others curious what they had signed up for or been signed up for. The cat shook her head, wishing she could bring her arms up to support her heavy breasts, the G-cup things starting to weigh on her since she hadn't been allowed a bra in transit.

The other prisoners meant nothing to her, and she didn't engage with them. They sounded like the thugs that she imagined being caught by the cops, the common criminals, the muggers, the little pests that were at the edge of society already and were probably better suited to be here than she was. They were guilty. She was just...inconvenienced.

I was not guilty.

But that didn't mean she hadn't done it. $25k would have made her life so much easier, and the sperm bank that she stole it from hadn't needed it. It was nothing but celebrity breeding there, and she imagined that they were probably better off without so much money weighing them down if they were supposed to be a charity. A charity for what, she'd always wondered.

The $25k would have gone to much better uses in her hands, but something had given her away. She still wasn't sure what, but something. And now...

Now she was here, stuck in some sort of restitution program that she still didn't understand. Sandra shook her head, her tail whipping back and forth behind her in irritation as she waited for someone to tell her what to do next.

As the van drove off, the smaller exit opened, and several guards - all dressed in a black and blue latex that ran from their neck down to their feet - walked out. They were all female, or at least, seemed that way until they got close. Sandra saw their curves were outlined more strongly than anyone would have dared to do in any other prison, and started reevaluating where she was if they believed that the women were that safe here.

One of the guards, a horse with breasts as large as her own, broke off from the others and approached her. Sandra stood a little taller as the mare pulled a night-stick from her waist, flicking it out to full size and holding the tip under her chin.

"So, you're the scam queen, hmm?"

"...I did not scam anyone."

"We know your files, girl. Everyone here knows the inmates. Now, the question is, are you going to be a pain, or are you going to be good for us?"

"I doubt any prisoner is 'good' for you."

"You'd be surprised. But I'll take that as a pain." The guard chuckled, the red-furred mare shaking her head as she pulled the night-stick down. "But we'll see. No punishment until you break a rule."

"..."

"Come on, scam-queen."

"That's not my name."

"I don't think I care."

The mare pulled her along. So close to the other woman, all it took was one glance down to see that she had a different attribute between her legs than her curves suggested. The tight latex showed it off much more up-close, and while it wasn't hard, it was quite large, large enough to make Sandra blanch slightly and reexamine her options.

She's not going to fuck me. Guards don't just do that.

But this was...an odd prison, to say the least. She couldn't rule out anything, not just yet.

The mare led her through the far door, which opened into a chrome-plated corridor. Her reflection bounced off the wall all around her, the half-unzipped prison jumpsuit showing off the cream-tan fur between her breasts and then going down to the darker fur along her lower arms and legs. Her bare feet thumped and clicked against the metal floor, a constant thump-thump-thump that went right up her legs with pained regularity.

"Now, you understand what you're doing here?" the mare asked.

"Some sort of restitution program."

"That's correct. There's a sort of minimum value of certain types of labor, you see. In other prisons, that would be physical labor, manufacturing, and all that kind of stuff. It helps pay off the fines, replace what you stole, and all that."

"I didn't steal anything."

"Let's not dwell on the details. Now, here, there's a different program, one meant to keep you from being so...let's call it 'aggressive.' What we do here is help train your instincts to be less selfish, less grasping -"

"Can we cut the sales pitch?" Sandra groaned.

"...Alright, girl. You're going through years of forced orgasms and low-key conditioning until you sell enough sperm to pay off what you stole."

"WHAT?!"

She almost stopped dead in her tracks, only kept moving by the mare's large hand on her ass. Of all the things that she'd expected out of the restitution program, she hadn't imagined that they'd just cut out all her civil rights. Wasn't this something like rape? Or - she hadn't even consented to any of this. Her lawyer had done it for her, and -

Oh, she was going to file a complaint. She was going to file a complaint so massive that he wouldn't be practicing law for years.

She yelped as she was pulled sideways, one of the chrome plates lifting up to reveal a hidden room. Her eyes flicked across various bits of equipment - ranging from various video cameras to restraint tables to various devices that looked more like sex toys than security equipment - before she was tossed over one of the tables. She yelped as she fell over it, and gasped as her hands were restrained just over her head. Belly down, back up, and - yes, even her tail was pulled up and back, out of the way and tied to the table.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"Contraband check. Have to make sure that you're not bringing any weapons or anything into the prison."

"Like I'd have had time for that."

"It's just procedure."

"I'd just bet you're enjoying -"

RIIIP!

Her eyes went wide as she realized that she was not dressed anymore. The massive hole in her jumpsuit went around her tail base, between her ass cheeks, and all the way up to the bottom button in the front. Her mouth hung open as she was pushed forward, her cock pulled back and held against the bottom side of the table.

"Let's just make sure that that stays out of the way."

"You ass - what the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"I told you. Checking for contraband."

"What about my clothes?"

"Nobody told you anything, did they?" The mare chuckled. "Out here, you don't get any."

"You...I..."

"Now, you want to hold still for this."

Sandra gasped as she felt two fingers probing under her tail, hissing as she squirmed back and forth. The tight restraints around her wrists were surprisingly effective, keeping her completely pinned in place, and she couldn't even think about how she was supposed to get out of them.

As she tried to ignore the probing fingers beneath her tail, she nevertheless felt the slime oozing over them, the beginnings of lubrication being applied to her pucker. She clenched her eyes shut, her ears going back again as she breathed slowly.

This appalling woman is going to learn what it means to go this far. I swear, I swear I'm going to get a lawyer and -

Her thoughts were all but punched out of her head in the same way that her breath was punched out of her lungs: by a fist going right up her ass. She wheezed through clenched teeth, her eyes wide as she tried to adjust to her hole being forced open almost immediately, the lube helping but not enough. She coughed, sputtering, trying to get her breath back as the mare moved her hand around, pulling it this way and that, fanning her fingers out -

Oh god, the fingers fanning out was the worst. It was pressing against parts of her that were never meant to be expanded, and her breath was still wheezing out.

"S-slow...down."

"Sorry, but we have too many people to process for that."

"It's so..."

"The lube will keep you fine."

"No...not enough...lube for that."

"You'd be surprised."

Another twist, and her cock all but sputtered pre-cum on the floor. There was so much pressure on her prostate that it was driving her mad, and her mouth hung open as the mare popped her fist out and rammed it back in. In, out, in, out, each time opening her up a bit further before it went in deep. Her breath squeaked out of her lungs as that thick hand went deeper, deeper, deepest, and she could feel the texture of the mare's elbow curve pressed right against her asshole.

She couldn't breathe with all the pressure on her insides. She wasn't sure that she wanted to.

A little more fumbling later, the guard pulled her fist free, dragging it out slowly. The latex over her limb didn't show any sign of wear and tear. If anything, it was shinier than ever.

"Well, you're clean."

"Could have...told you..."

"Yes, but we have to verify. Now, let's get the ice to get your cock down."

"Nnngh..."

"And then we can get you properly processed the rest of the way."

Sandra laid there, stewing in bitter resentment - no, hatred for the entire process that she had suffered thus far. It was beyond unfair, and the sheer indignity went beyond the pale. She was just -

No, she was not guilty. All that she had done had been fair, completely fair for someone like her. But she wasn't someone that deserved something like this.

Eventually, the mare came back, and the familiar chill of ice to her cock was more than sufficient to kill the budding erection. She shivered as it went down, down, down, slowly shrinking back to a state of flaccidity. Sandra hated that feeling, but she was used to it; icing it more than once when she went out to different events had been a necessity.

She was released from her restraints and allowed to stand. No sooner had she than she was pushed onto the table, her legs forcibly pushed apart and a finger shoved behind her balls. She hissed at the pressure against the flat skin there.

"I'm not a herm," she muttered.

"Again, just checking. Some people don't authenticate the records."

"And you don't have to enjoy this so much."

"Well, it's either enjoy it or hate it, and I want to keep my job."

"Ass."

"Mare, actually. Please keep that straight."

Getting a head-pat was more than slightly demeaning, and she gritted her teeth as the measuring tape came out. She submitted to having her cock pulled on, dragged forward and measured. She allowed her legs and arms to be pulled around, positioned, measured, twisted around.

But it was the feeling of having her hair pulled and her neck measured that set her off. She yowled as her head was yanked backwards, pulling herself forward and out of the other woman's reach.

"What the fuck!?"

"You have to be measured for everything. Now, do you really want to get me pissed at you on your first day?"

"What the hell was the hair-pulling for?"

"Getting you used to the fact that you can be manhandled."

"But -"

"This is the Milking Farm, Sandra," the mare said. "And here, the guards have the ultimate authority. They can do what they want, when they want. You are here on a restitution program, and as long as we don't waste anything that might come out, you can be put to any sort of punishment detail we devise. So, you might want to consider keeping us in a good mood if you don't want to get fucked over."

"..."

"Now, come here."

She walked over to stand before the mare, wordless and speechless. The entire idea of the guards having that much power seemed impossible. Who'd designed this place? Why? And what kind of asshole did they have in charge?

"Right. That's all simple enough. A few metal bands will finish this."

Sandra stood there, letting her hands be taken and the metal bracelets attached. They were thick and heavy enough that she felt them dragging at her shoulders, and she knew that she'd be building muscle all the time just by letting her arms swing while she walked. They were going to make moving around hard.

One foot after another suffered the same fate, a thick metal anklet slapped on and locked tight with a digitally-coded lock. She doubted that she could have hacked that even if she had material for it, and she certainly didn't have that here.

The last of it, though, was the most humiliating. A collar was pulled down from the wall, more slender, but still a collar of metal rather than anything else. She gulped as she looked at it, almost hearing the click that would come when it was wrapped around her neck, but it was the little bumps and nodules on the inside that sent shivers down her spine.

"What...what are those?"

"Applicators."

"For...for what?"

"For anything that might need to get into your system quickly. Some milking scenarios require extra aphrodisiacs, some situations require paralytics, and so on."

"..."

"Lean over, Sandra."

There was no getting out of it, she realized. No way of keeping that collar off her throat. What half-formed ideas of escape she might have had died as she leaned over, feeling the metal pressing against either side of her neck. It closed tight, and she bit off a whimper as she felt the latch close at the back. Even as she wanted to reach back and feel for something to undo, she knew that there was no way that it would be that easy.

She stood up slowly, panting, heaving, gasping. She was all too aware of her own nudity, and the sensation of being completely exposed was one that she didn't know how to deal with just yet. It was just...just overpowering, like she had lost all protection. Her breasts felt like they might sag from their weight, her nipples stiff from the cold, her cock still hanging low. She wanted to cover herself. She wanted to run. She wanted to do...well, anything that would let her escape from this helpless situation.

But she couldn't. Not anymore."

"Oh, right. One more thing."

"Oh, what more indignity can you shower me with?" Sandra muttered.

"More than you want to think about, girl. So don't sass me."

She looked up just in time to see the mare offering a cock cage. Sheer and plastic in direct contrast to the metal that she wore everywhere else, the cage was small, small enough to really force her soft cock to squish down and be sure to torment her if she ever started to get hard while it was still on. Her eyes went wide as she imagined it locked tight around her cock, and her mouth fell open.

"What? But - the restitution."

"It doesn't need to be off for most of those."

"But -"

"Dear. You don't get a choice."

"..."

"Come here."

"I...I..."

"Come. Here."

The mare's voice felt tight and commanding, and she took a step without even realizing that she had. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized how helpless she actually was, and stood with her legs spread apart as gloved fingers idly probed against her privates. The soft fingers were a direct contrast to the hard cage that her cock was fed into, and the harder ring at the base that locked the plastic in place.

Click.

Clink.

Clack.

And just like that, the lock was in place, leaving her cock completely restrained and kept from being used without permission. She wheezed out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, shaking her head slowly.

"There. Now you're processed. Down the hall and into the elevator at the end, that's a good girl."

#

Eliza sat in a most uncomfortable metal chair as the training video started wrapping up. The lioness fidgeted as little as she could manage, but after sitting there for nearly an hour, it was almost impossible to hold still.

"Almost done. Just a little more and you can take your first shift," the lioness muttered to herself.

She rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the last vestiges of her old mane fading away. The edge of it was still just barely there, a roughness that she didn't really like but couldn't entirely escape, but visibly, it was gone. The latex suit waiting for her first shift would keep it from being visible as long as she kept it groomed, she was sure.

For now, she sat there, naked, as all recruits were, as she watched the training videos for keeping an eye on the Milking Farm prisoners. So far, she'd ignored the occasional throb from down below, and she told herself to keep up with that. If the veterans found out that she'd been touching herself -

But she hadn't been.

Not here, at least.

She breathed out slowly as the last of the 'regulations' video ended, the program cycling through to the next one. Eliza leaned her head back.

"Ugh...this better be worth it."

It would be, though. She was here to make a difference for people, and the Restitution program that the Milking Farm program ran was definitely one of the more humane versions of the prison system. That wasn't to say that it didn't have its flaws, but she was the first to admit that there were others that were far worse. The fact that the guards here only pushed someone to get involved with sex with machines rather than with them was a hell of a lot better than most of the other mainstream prisons.

That was why she wanted to be here. If she could help the prisoners here, guide them forward and make them realize the sort of chance that they were getting, Eliza was sure that they would emerge better suited for society again. They would go out there, and...and they would be thankful.

They would remember.

"Just one more. You can handle that," she muttered.

She hoped that was the case. She had seen many rough handlings, things that the public didn't necessarily know about the Milking Farm system, but she had seen most of the prisoners being pretty uppity about it, getting dangerous and having to be restrained for their own and others' wellbeing. There was a method to the madness, even if it was a bit...much. That part, she had been able to adjust to.

The sexuality of it, on the other hand...

She blushed as she remembered the way that the videos had shown the various prisoners being pushed into the milking machines, how they were fucked from behind or sucked from below. Every method of extracting seed was intensely sexualized, and she had no idea sometimes whether she was watching a porno or if she was supposed to be learning from the video. It was always so...so intense.

And it had an effect on her, too. The constant low-level throbbing between her legs warned her about her own reactions to all this, and it was not making it easier for her to focus. She had to keep her hands away from her cock, had to keep her attention on the screen, not think about the things that the machines would do to the prisoners.

Or her, if she got caught and they reversed the situation. Oh, that was a thought she probably shouldn't have.

Mirriam had warned her at the outset. If she was caught gratifying herself to the training videos, she would be locked up down there, her cock caged to ensure that she didn't start giving into her own instincts. It was a fate that she didn't want to suffer, and one that she really hoped to avoid.

Just one more video, right? One more? I can take that.

Or at least, she desperately hoped she could. Crossing one leg over the other, the lioness took a deep breath and hit play.

Rather than a training video, however, this one started playing a direct security feed. Her eyes went wide as she saw a mostly-dressed prisoner being brought into the processing room, and her mouth opened wider as she saw her immediate supervisor, a russet-red mare named Mirriam, pulling the feline prisoner along. Her jaw dropped further as the mare all but threw the feline against the table.

Prisoners have no rights.

The blaring text caught her off-guard, but she still stared as her superior ripped the prisoner's clothes off. Her mouth fell open as she watched the bondage happen without any explanation, any comfort, any gentleness. It was just done.

And despite herself, her cock throbbed to see that sort of casual use. It was worse than the training videos, which had been done more matter-of-factly, but had not seemed entirely real. This...this was real.

This was real hot.

Eliza tried to cut that thought off, but she was already imagining herself down there, wondering what she would do. She thought that she would stand up for the feline, to protest and at least try and explain, but at the same time, her cock throbbed at the thought of doing more than just...examining the other woman.

Her hand twitched, almost going for her cock right then, but she clenched her fingers tight, claws popping out to grip the chair properly. She would hold out. She would. She would!

And yet, as the exam continued, as she watched her mentor shove her fist deep into that tight hole, watching as the lube forced it to loosen up just enough to accept the fist, she couldn't help but imagine all sides of what was happening. Not just how it would feel to stand over someone that was that helpless, but wondering how it would feel to be in her place.

Eliza had always scored high on empathy, but this was the first time that it had taken her somewhere like that. Her hand twitched again, and this time, she slowly reached for her cock. It throbbed between her legs, a droplet of pre oozing from the tip of her cock. Her mentor's fist popped free of that hole, and she had a perfect view of that puffy hole, watching as it closed, as it gaped for a short time before closing completely.

"Fuck..."

"I believe 'fucked' is the word you're looking for."

Eliza leaped to her feet, trying to drag her cock from her hand, but it felt too good. She still had it in her fist as she turned to see Mirriam arriving, the big-breasted mare chuckling from the doorway.

"Couldn't resist, could you?"

"I...I tried..."

"How long?"

"...I kept it at bay until the feed," she muttered, nodding over her shoulder.

"Not bad for a newbie, but you know the rules. You're going in the cage."

"Mmmph...do I..."

"For your own safety, hon. If you can't control yourself, then the inmates are going to do it for you. But you did pretty good. I'll give you a blow before I lock you up. Probably won't take long considering how pent-up you are."

That was putting it mildly. The lioness blushed as she leaned back, gently lifting her breasts a little and looking past them. The shift from male to mostly female had been quite successful for the most part; her breasts had come in as E-cups, and filled out quite well and almost natural. Her cock, however, was still easily excited, and...well, it was standing out at seven inches, begging for some attention even now.

She let them fall with an embarrassed blush, bringing her hands back and behind her back. They put some pressure on her spine, forcing her hips forward as Mirriam stepped in and knelt down. The soft breath of the mare on her cock was something that she didn't quite expect, and she shivered, biting her lips as she squirmed.

"Don't hold back. We both have work to do."

"I'm still hired?" Eliza asked.

"Of course. We wouldn't keep you on if you failed earlier, but you lasted long enough. And we'll test you in a couple of months to see if you can resist properly then."

"T-thank you."

"So, how did you like the feed?" Mirriam asked, dragging her tongue along the side of the lioness's cock.

"Nngh..."

"Come on." Lick. "You can talk." Lick. "Or that cage might have to stay on even longer."

"Mmph...Just...it was...it was...overwhelming. Do you...do you treat...all prisoners like that?"

"Have to." Lick. "Can't make exceptions." Lick. "Or they'll start getting it into their head that they can trade for favors."

"Well - mmmph!"

The sudden deep-throat pushed her against the metal chair, and she gasped as she was pinned in place, the mare's lips working all the way down to the base of her cock and leaving her heaving for breath.

Keep talking, keep talking, Eliza told herself. Keep talking, or that cage is going to be on for a lot longer.

"Nnngh...I...I was...studying it...and was thinking a-about how...how prisoners have...no rights...but also how...oh god, oh god..."

She was barely holding onto her train of thought. Oh, if this was how she was going to be treated as the new guard on the block, this was going to be really interesting, and she had no idea how long she was going to last.

The End

Summary: Welcome to a milking farm where it focuses almost entirely on those with feminine and masculine attributes. Enter Sandra, a woman that committed fraud and was then committed here without her consent.

Tags: Trans Female/Trans Female, tF/tF, Cat, Mare, Lioness, Prison, Milking Farm, Processing, Fisting, Searching, Stripping, Collar, Bondage, Anal, Anal Fisting,