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The Milking Farm (Reboot)

Chapter 1: Processing

Sponsored by DuskCypher

By Draconicon

The results of the Sexual Protection Laws were, one might suppose, a little inevitable. With the idea that society was allowed to be more free with their sexual pleasures, it was only right that there were new laws put in place to protect the people that were taking advantage of that. One might be an exhibitionist, but that didn't mean that one gave the right to everyone to look at their body a hundred percent of the time.

Owen, a raccoon that had been charged under those new Sexual Protection Laws, had learned that the hard way. He'd been caught after he'd stalked a wolf woman back to her house, and then stared through the windows as she and her husband had relations together. That might not have gotten him in so much trouble, but the fact that he jerked off and came on their window had pushed it over the line, making him guilty of 'forcing participation' in his own gratification, as the court had said.

He leaned his head back against the back of his bus seat, feeling the slight vibration that rattled through the old thing. Despite advances in so many other places in the last couple of decades, the busses were still as old and trashy as they had ever been. They still bounced, still rattled, and he was pretty sure that the few other prisoners on the bus were getting as jostled as he was and cursing every injury that they'd ever gotten in the past.

Just one little peep, and I'm stuck with a prison sentence...

Owen would have crossed his arms if it wasn't for the chains that held them together at the wrists, or the bull that was looking down the bus at him and the other prisoners. He was pretty sure that he could have wiggled free if he really wanted to, but...

Yeah, better not to piss the guard off. The bus driver had already taken against him for some reason or another, and he didn't need two people on the bus angry.

Looking past the bull, he could see that they were still on the winding road that led through this long, thick, obviously artificial forest. The various pines were too close to each other to be something that grew naturally, too artificially spaced, and he could tell that it was meant as some way to keep everyone on the other side of the woods. Both on the outside, and the inside.

He surreptitiously looked behind him. There were only two other prisoners being taken along for the ride this time, an orca and a fox. Neither of them bothered looking outside. They just had the same dead stare forward as he had seen in other busses.

Yeah, no help there...

Not that he expected any help, or any sort of prison break. He was only being sent here for a month or two, after all. It wasn't like he'd be in that much trouble.

Particularly with this new kind of prison, from everything that the judge had been saying.

Heh. Don't know why we needed new prisons to go along with the new laws, but hey. If it means that it'll be easier on me, I'll take it.

The raccoon leaned his head back a bit further, closing his eyes.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, the bus had come to a complete and sudden stop. He groaned, rattled forward and back in his seat, and he looked up and out the window -

"Whoa."

Only to see a large, six-story building looming in front of him. It was almost like a beehive in shape, except that the narrow end was on the bottom and the thick end was on the top. A sort of entry-floor, he guessed, that then narrowed up into something of an elevator that led to the upper levels.

Yeah, definitely something like a hive, he supposed, though there were no windows to mark where someone might try to escape or look out of the hive at the surrounds. He looked through the back windows, realized that they had come through a wall while he was asleep. That meant that there was a guard on the grounds, and there were probably guards in the big thing in front of him, too.

"Alright, everyone, on your feet."

The bull's order stirred the other prisoners, and Owen joined them in standing up. He wiggled his toes - none of them had been given shoes or boots, just made to walk barefoot from the holding cells to the bus - and he followed the bull off the bus. The walrus driver watched them leave with eyes narrowed, and Owen did his best not to meet the other man's eyes as he walked off.

At least there was grass rather than gravel. His feet were already tender from the long bus ride and the vibrations that had been rippling through his soles the whole time. Owen glanced back at the prison, though, taking another look at it, and trying to guesstimate some of the features that it had.

Probably about seventy feet on that elevator shaft going up. You'd need a lot of rope to get down from there, and there's probably security stuff every ten feet or so...

And that was without considering the stuff on the ground floor. The upper part of the prison, where it bulged out from the elevator shaft and became a proper building again, had a fat top, narrower bottom, and it had a surprisingly organic sort of shape. He had to admit that it was a very different looking building, and one that he would have probably avoided if he had seen it in the outside world.

Not that he had a choice now.

"Thinking of breaking out, prisoner?" the bull asked.

"Huh? Me?" The raccoon shook his head. "Nah, just admiring the scenery."

"Yeah, better not."

"Hey, I'm only here for a couple of months. Not like I need to worry too much."

"Heh, is that what they told you?"

"...What do you mean, is that what they told me?" Owen asked, an eyebrow going up.

"Heh, you'll see."

"No, no, hey, wait -"

"Alright, convicts. March."

With a nod towards the main floor, the bull gave him a push, and Owen bit off the questions that were suddenly pushing their way up. What did he mean, was that what they told him? The prison system had to work on numbers. They said a month, two at most. What else could that mean?

The other prisoners remained quiet, and he wondered if they had the right idea. He was starting to think maybe he should have kept his fat yap shut.

As they walked across the grounds, he tried to focus on keeping quiet, on keeping his mind from wandering towards the whole 'prison break' escape idea. He had a good deal. It was a couple months here - at most - versus two or three years in a proper prison. He'd thought that they were just giving him a good deal to show off their latest prisons and ideas for how to rehabilitate people, but...

Well, now, he was starting to question things.

The raccoon had some small training in basic architecture, along with his work as a repairman. He knew how things fit together, and that little part of him that was going through an attack of paranoia was desperate to try and fit together a plan of how he could get out of this if he really had to. That part was getting stomped down hard, though.

You can't tell from the outside. You'll have to see from the inside.

They marched through the front doors of the prison, and were immediately greeted by more guards, these ones in a very different uniform than he had ever seen. Owen blinked at the sight of two big stallions, both of them in thick black...well, it almost looked like latex, but that had to be impossible. It ran from their necks all the way down to their feet, and it was like a second skin. The only place where it was not fully detailed was right over their sheaths, where the spot where their dicks would come out was covered with a strange, flat shimmer.

No sooner had Owen noticed them than he noticed the black bars behind them. He blinked at the sight of them, almost swearing that they had to be made of the same weird stuff that the guards were wearing, but how was that possible?

"Three prisoners. Manler, Owen. Harris, Laurence. Bagwell, Paul," the bull read off from his list. "All present and accounted for."

The stallions nodded.

"You need me for anything else?" the bull asked.

They shook their heads.

"Right. Then I'm off."

Owen had to bite off a request for the bull to stay, and by the time that his rising fears told him it would have been better to risk it, the bull was gone. He heard a buzzing sound fill the air, followed by a click that meant that the front door was locked down. The two guards and the three prisoners were all alone.

The stallions were silent. Though their faces weren't covered by the same sort of black stuff that the rest of their bodies were coated in, they looked almost robotic. He had never, ever seen someone like this, even in the clubs where they played with that new L stuff. It was creepy.

Eventually, one of the stallions stepped forward. He held up one black-sheathed hand, and -

"Holy shit," the fox - Laurence - muttered, and Owen had to agree.

The black stuff started rising up, forming tendrils that wove together until they took on the shape of a key. It had come right out of the stallion's finger, and despite the fact that it was obviously non-organic, it looked like it was still attached to his body. The horse pulled Laurence closer, pushed the key into the handcuff's release slot, and twisted. The cuffs came free.

What...the fuck...

He'd seen L, a semi-legal drug that was used by latex-lovers, in use before. It could do something like that, half-transforming someone's body into latex that could be shaped and shifted as one liked. But this was something entirely different. The user couldn't just project their bodies into different shapes, not like that.

Whatever was going on here, it was beyond any of the public tech.

As the fox was pulled away from the group, the orca - Paul Bagwell - took a step forward as well. He was stopped in his tracks as the other stallion rested a hand on his chest. When the guard spoke, it sounded so soft, so quiet, so inhuman, that it sent a shiver up and down Owen's spine.

"You will wait. Your turn is coming. Stay here, and stay quiet."

Paul gritted his teeth. Owen, for his part, nodded and slowly sat down, his chains rattling as he did. The orca, on the other hand -

"You think I'm gonna listen to you fucks? Get outta my face."

And with that, the orca threw a punch.

What occurred next happened so fast that Owen had no idea how it happened. One moment, Paul was assaulting the guard in front of him. The next, the orca was on the floor, some sort of black ooze running around his neck like a collar and keeping him pinned in place. More of the black ooze was running from the guard's hands, producing wrist shackles that locked the big guy down to the ground.

Owen stared, his eyes wider than ever. The guards here...oh, the guards here were a lot scarier than he'd expected.

"You have been upgraded to the Tier Four security sector," the stallion on top of the orca said. "Further resistance will have you upgraded to Tier Five. Please do not resist. Tier Five is not a pleasant place."

"Nnngh...how...how the fuck..."

"You have been restrained. Please do not resist."

Did he think that the voice sent shivers down his spine? No, that was upgraded to flat-out tremors at this point, and Owen's jaws were clenched so tight together that he was afraid that he might crack a tooth.

Just be good. Be good, and they won't have a reason to come down on you. Be good, and - oh god, what if this is worse than regular prison?

He held fast to the idea that he would only be here for a few months, trying to drown out what the bull had told him on the grounds. They wouldn't just lie to him, would they?

Well, his lawyer had. But that lawyer had been a cheap piece of shit, and -

No, no, he was rabbiting. He had to start focusing.

The stallions took Laurence down the hall, and eventually came back for Paul, taking him for processing as well. The entire time, the raccoon sat there, legs, crossed, his hands pressed together, his eyes focused straight ahead and doing everything that he could to present someone that was harmless, who didn't have a bad bone in their body, and who wasn't at all thinking of trying to run away.

Eventually, the stallions came back. They tapped the bars between him and them, and the door opened. They approached, one of them kneeling down and pressing a finger to his cuffs. Once more, he watched the latex ooze free of the stallion's finger, and the cuffs opened with ease. As his hands and feet were freed, he forced the idea of fleeing out of his head.

"Come with us for processing," the stallion said in that same dead voice.

"Yes, sir," he said, nodding and bowing his head.

The first room had almost been typical, save for the stallions and the black bars at the far end of it, but as they took the first turn in the hallway, the walls started to blacken. They were the same shiny hue as the guards, and he swore that he saw more reflections than there were people in the hallway. It made him feel dizzy, and he tried not to stare, or think about the way that the ground was almost bouncy beneath his feet.

They reached another set of bars, and this time, the stallions didn't open it. They just touched it, and the bars opened. Not sideways, but by melting, collapsing into the floor.

"Holy shit..."

On the other side was an elephant that wore the same sort of black garments as the guards, though with it running down to his ankles before turning into boots rather than the sort of 'socks' that the guards had. The elephant sat beside an exam table, and had a couple of tools on a side table beside it. The pachyderm gestured for him to come forward.

"Come on, come on. We have to get you fitted. Name?"

"Uh, Owen. Owen Manler," the raccoon said as he stepped over the raised black strip on the ground. "I - gah!"

The bars came up behind him again, so fast that they almost cut through his tail. He yelped, bringing it around and pressing it against his chest with a soft whimper. The new guy, however, only nodded.

"Manler. You're here for Tier Three, then."

The only thing that made this man more bearable than the stallions was the fact that he at least talked normal. Whatever had been done to the guards made them hover right in the middle of the uncanny valley, and the way that they kept staring at him made him wonder if he'd done something wrong already. They looked ready to tackle him to the floor, or worse.

"Hey. Manler. Get your ass over here. We need to do an exam before I get you outfitted."

"Huh?"

"Exam. Processing. Make sure that you're not bringing any contraband in."

"Oh. Right."

"So? Get naked and get over here."

The raccoon nodded, his arms moving more mechanically than usual. He pulled at the zipper at his neck, dragging it down his chest. Like most of his species, he was relatively lithe, though his lack of work in the last month or so had been enough to give him the start of a gut. His fur was still fairly thick, hiding his nipples and a few other marks that he'd gotten on the job, and he knew that it would only get more so as he got older.

Thirty-three. Would have thought that was ancient just a decade ago, he thought, shaking his head as he kept pulling the jumpsuit down. Now it's just normal.

Pulling the orange thing down around his hips - just a bit wide, but again, mostly from lack of work the last month - and around his ass, he blushed as he ended up exposing his junk to the elephant. Despite knowing that this would have to happen, he still wasn't ready for it.

There was no sheath there, just a dick that hung down. Black-colored, it was thick enough, perhaps slightly more than two inches, though he knew from experience that it never got longer than six and a half inches. He pulled it down the rest of the way, showing off a pair of gray-furred balls that were slightly larger than average, but no more than that.

As he wiggled his ankles out of the legs, the elephant pointed to the table, and Owen did his best to maintain a nonchalant air as he slid himself onto the metal surface.

"Legs spread, Manler," the elephant said, and Owen nodded, slowly pulling them apart.

There was, at least, a little lube applied to his pucker before the big guy shoved a finger up there. The raccoon hissed under his breath as he felt the thick, spreading feeling, and he groaned more as the elephant started rooting around in there, almost like someone picking a nose rather than someone searching for contraband.

"Nnngh...mmmph..."

"Sensitive, convict?" the elephant asked.

"Nnngh...it's my ass, it's supposed to be-eeee!"

His voice rose an octave or two when the pachyderm's thick finger found his prostate, rubbing it a little more firmly than he would have liked. He clenched his teeth together, fighting the urge to make any more sounds, trying to keep his head on straight as his hole clenched. Hard.

"Heh, that's what we like to see."

"Mmmph...there's nothing in there."

"Not in the shallow end of the pool, at least."

"What the hell are you - oh, fuck, what are you doing?"

The elephant pulled his finger out with a slurping sound, wiped it off, and had already pulled up a long, metal thing, something that flopped about and had a smooth tip.

"Well, I didn't see anything at the bottom, but that doesn't mean you didn't shove it in good and deep."

"You're shitting me."

"No, but you're going to be shitting this. Now, hold still."

Owen wanted to protest, and he almost did, but then he looked back at the black bars and the stallion guards standing behind them. He remembered what they had done to Paul, and he remembered that he was already slotted for 'Tier Three'. From what he'd been able to gather, that meant that there were two other, stronger, worse security sections that were past that one. No need to test his luck.

So, he laid there, gritting his teeth and gripping the table as the elephant grabbed his ankles. Just like that, the raccoon had his feet in the air, his ass exposed, and some long, snaking, metal tube pressed against his pucker.

Deep breath, deep breath, deep - fuuuuuuck!

The tube wasn't that thick, but it was very, very, very long. He could feel it slowly snaking its way up his asshole, forcing hm wider, more open with each and every second. Owen could feel every inch that it traversed, could feel it forcing his anal passage open more and more as it went into his depths.

The elephant must have been looking at something under the table, because his eyes were down rather than on him. The raccoon's breath came faster and faster as he felt that thing going further and further inside of him.

The worst part was the way that the damn thing was constantly rubbing against his prostate, situated so that it was rubbing it with each successive inch that slid inside of him. He didn't know how to deal with that, didn't know what to do when it was constantly grinding down on that sensitive button.

Mmmph...fuck...fuck...

And it was making his cock quite stiff against his belly, oozing pre-cum through his fur, adding the smell of a hot musk in the air. He knew his own scent, but it was weird to have it pushed out of him like this, ground out of him by some machine.

"Well, looks like it's pretty clear," the big guy said. "We're almost to your stomach, and there's nothing in there."

"Mmmph...could have told you that."

"Yeah, but I gotta keep records, convict."

"Asshole."

"Well, you got a nice one."

The sudden retraction was like a ruler being sucked back into a roll, and Owen howled as he felt what had to be several feet of metal tube yanked out of his ass in the space of seconds. The raccoon rolled onto his side, his hands going behind him to cover his asshole as he whimpered.

"Fuck...fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..."

"Yeah, you'll get used to that."

"Why the hell...how the hell..."

"Heh, you'll figure it out. Anyway, you look clear."

As the big guy stood up, reaching for the tools, Owen wondered, again, why he had thought coming here was a good idea. It felt like he had made a horrible mistake, now, particularly with what they were doing, and how callous they were. The fact that he had gotten his sentence reduced from two years somewhere else to a month or two here should have been a huge clue.

Stupid fucking idiot...

Helped upright by the elephant nurse, he groaned as he had his ankles and wrists locked into black bands that looked like the same stuff that the guards wore all over their bodies, and that the elephant had, too. He stared at them, half-expecting the black stuff to engulf his body, but it didn't.

"What are these?" he asked.

"Security devices."

"Yeah, I gathered, but..."

"If you get unruly, you'll see. Now, collar."

He didn't like the sound of that, but again, he didn't want to risk what might happen if he started acting up. The raccoon leaned his head forward, waiting for the feeling of something leathery around his neck, or something metal.

Instead, he felt something almost more like a paintbrush. It tickled against the back of his neck, and there was definitely something solid in it, but he could feel it being painted on rather than just laid around his neck. He shivered, trying not to move, but it was difficult as he felt the paintbrush dragging along the side of his neck, around, under his chin, and then back around the other side.

As whatever it was dried, he could feel it taking on more form, more weight. It pressed against his neck almost like a rubber band might have pressed around his finger when tightened. Not painful, not now, but with the indication that it could tighten at some unknown signal. He didn't like that idea, but he didn't have a choice, did he?

After getting patted on the shoulder, he realized that he was done. He reached for the jumpsuit, only for the elephant to take it away.

"Uh-uh."

"What about clothes?"

"You don't get any here."

"...What?" Owen whimpered.

"This is the Milking Farm. You don't need clothes here."

"Then what...how..."

"Heh. Nobody told you the truth about this place, did they?"

The raccoon slowly shook his head.

"Well, you'll figure it out. Eventually."

As the nurse pressed a button by the table, the black bars leading deeper into the prison sunk down. More of the stallion guards, these ones just as thick and muscular as the previous ones if not more so, walked over to him and collected him by the shoulders. They led him out of the room before he could protest.

They had to have passed through a half-dozen of the different black-bar gates, and Owen admitted that there was no easy escape from this place. It seemed like they were keyed somehow to the stallions, maybe biologically, maybe something else, but they didn't move until the stallions did something with the black ooze. It always melted rather than moved, too, which meant it was a sort of tech that he didn't understand.

By the time that they reached the elevator upwards, they were in a completely blacked-out chamber. The walls, the ceiling, the doors, everything seemed to be coated with the same black ooze that dressed the stallions and marked his wrists, ankles, and neck. It shimmered, and he swore that his little accessories shimmered in turn.

If the stallions had been more...normal, he supposed, he might have felt more embarrassed about being naked in front of them. But as robotic and out of it as they were, he felt more like he was just being escorted by faceless drones, things that didn't matter as much as they might have otherwise done. They were scary, yes, but they didn't make him feel self-conscious in the same way.

They touched nothing, but the elevator door opened. He walked inside with the guards, and as soon as he stepped into the middle of the elevator, black tendrils rose like wires from the ground. They slapped against the anklets that he wore, and suddenly, he couldn't move. His legs were connected to the ground with a greater tightness than chains could have accomplished, and he blushed at the sudden bondage.

The stallions didn't join him. Instead, they merely watched him until the doors closed.

Of course they didn't have to follow. If the floor, ceiling, walls...if everything can just grab me and hold me down, then there's almost no need for the guards...

Whatever kind of tech they had to make this work, it was both intimidating and...well, maybe a little arousing. He'd never thought that bondage was that intense before, but knowing that someone unseen, or just random chance, could end up binding him in a precarious position was kinda hot.

The thought faded as he felt like a rocket went off under his feet, pushing him upwards. There weren't any markers to show where he was, or how far up he had gone. All he knew was that he was still moving, still rising.

Eventually, it stopped. The door didn't open so much as it melted, revealing -

"Holy..."

Owen had expected a cell block, something where various prisoners would be kept in different little squares away from one another, occasionally let out. Instead, he found himself staring at a strange little...field, for lack of a better term. He saw at least a dozen other prisoners, none dressed in any more than he was, walking across ground that would have looked like a field of grass if it wasn't for the fact that it was a shimmering black, instead.

Lights on a high ceiling above the floor bathed the place in something that almost mimicked sunlight, but there was a strange, rainbow-ish hue to it, like an oil slick on water. It felt unnatural, making his head a bit fuzzy, a bit hazy.

Among the 'field' and the black grasses were little structures, looking like block buildings that were about half the size of the average apartment, from what he could gather. They were spread out, arranged seemingly at random, and some of the prisoners seemed to regularly go in and out of specific ones.

What the hell? What the hell? What the fucking hell?

Owen felt a push from beneath, and he took a step without even realizing that he was doing it. As soon as he stepped out of the elevator, the hole in the wall closed behind him, leaving him without any way to turn back.

The raccoon's cheeks burned hotter as he realized that this wasn't even an all-male floor. The more he watched the different people in the distance - perhaps a hundred, a hundred-fifty feet from him - the more he realized that some of them had breasts, and even had rather strongly feminine shapes. Then they'd turn, and he'd see that they had dicks, even though they were otherwise rather feminine.

That seemed to be the only unifying characteristic. If you had a dick, you could be here; if you had a dick and pussy, you could be here. But not if you had a pussy and no dick.

It seemed like an utterly impossible prison. Not that it hadn't felt like that since he'd seen the stallions, but this just took it to a whole different level. He looked up at the ceiling, and immediately had to look away again, feeling like his brain was melting. Yet, at the same time, that light was reflected off of the black, latex-like strands of grass all around him, giving him a strange, mind-warming sensation that made it hard to think.

Owen tried to take a deep breath, only to taste something that told him that there was a kind of gas in the air, and what kind of gas it was got answered real quick.

The raccoon groaned as his cock started rising, lifting up and throbbing over his balls in short order. He didn't start humping, but he could feel the damn thing throbbing as much as it had when he had been staring through the window at that wolf woman. He shivered, feeling the tip of his cock already dripping with pre-cum, already feeling the urges that came that night.

Fuck...fuck...

He tried to breathe a little more shallowly, but the aphrodisiacs in the air already had him horny as all fuck. The raccoon's balls felt heavy, and his cock felt hard. So hard. Painfully hard.

"Hey."

Owen groaned, rubbing his cheeks as he tried to ignore the throbbing boner between his legs. He saw a jackal leaning against the shimmering, smooth wall behind him, the anubian-furred canine shaking his head.

"Hold off if ya can. You're gonna want all that."

"Mmmph. What are you - why would I - ugh...So many questions."

"Another 'good deal' problem?"

"You too?"

"Yeah. They're conning us pretty good with this crap..."

Owen nodded, focusing on the conversation as much as he could. It didn't block out everything, but it was enough to let him focus instead of just thinking about how heavy his balls felt, or how hard his cock was, or...or anything else that was trying to take over his thoughts. He lumbered over to the jackal, leaning against the wall with him.

"What the hell is this?"

"You mean all this? Or just this floor?"

"Everything."

"It's the Milking Farm. They got us by the dick, and now, we gotta pay by the load."

"What the...I'm just...they said two months, at most..."

"Yeah. That's if you can meet the two-month quota, man." The jackal chuckled. "Trust me, there's not a dick in here that can meet that quota that fast. You'll be here for at least a year, depending on how much you blow."

"I...what...that doesn't..."

"A little too horny to think there?" The jackal shook his head a few times. "Yeah...that'll last for a few days. Don't worry. You'll get some help. I think most of 'em do want to help us out here. Just gotta watch out for the ones that don't."

"I don't understand."

"You will." The jackal offered him a hand, a hand that was stained with pre-cum, probably from that throbbing, canine-style cock between his legs. "Harken. Victor Harken."

"Owen Manler."

"Well, Owen, welcome to Tier Three. Let's get you situated, huh?"

The End

Summary: The Milking Farm is a brand new prison for deviants, and Owen has been sentenced to it for being a voyeur. He's about to find out just why only perverts are sent here.

Tags: M/M, M/solo, latex, nudity, raccoon, stallion, elephant, jackal, various species, exhibitionism, examination, anal, fingering, camera, forced nudity, prison, series, hypnosis, bondage, aphrodisiacs, erection,