Milkman

by Jennifer White

  

In the spring last year, a new product was introduced to the market by a company called Alternative Formulas Inc (AFI). It was a baby formula that exactly matched the chemical properties of breast milk. It was a huge hit, and soon it flew off the shelves as quickly as it was produced. It was only available in small quantities, due to the nature of the production process. But the company which created it promised that soon they would be able to deliver greater and greater quantities....

* * *

Ray sat back and groaned. Three days left. He hadn't heard back from his lawyer, which was bad news to him. If the supreme court was going to take up his case, they should have annoucned it by now.

"Here's your lunch Ray" said the guard. "Have you decided yet what you want for your last meal yet?"

"Not this Charlie" said Ray.

Charlie smiled as Ray chucked. Gallows humor.

As Ray ate the tasteless slop that passed for food, he pondered his situation. He should never have gotten himself involved with drugs like he did. Then he never would have been broke, and never would have resorted to robbery.

He hadn't meat to shoot the woman, but his hand just pulled the trigger. And the cops didn't like it that he put one of their own into the hospital in critical condition, when he crashed into a squad car during the ensuing chase.

Unable to afford a good lawyer, he had hoped to at least get a plea bargain to let him spend the rest of his life in jail. But the DA was hard as stone, and refused to offer anything. It was an open and shut case. It took just thirty minutes to return the guilty verdict.

And then the worst part: the sentencing phase. They brought the crying husband of the woman in, and paraded her children and her mother in front of the jury. Even the jury was crying. The DA smiled when the sentence was read aloud: death by lethal injection.

Now the last few hours he had ticked away, and still no word.

* * *

Ray had to agree that his steak dinner was wonderful. Too bad his body would never have a chace to digest it. He was trembling as Charlie the guard led him down the hall. It seemed to be like a ten mile walk, when in fact it was only a few hundred yards.

Ray refused last rights, and put up no struggle as the strapped him down on the table, and put a needle into his arm. A saline solution dripped in. A nurse hooked up aother tube, which attached to a device which would dispense the deadly toxin. A heart monitor was attached, and emitted a steady beeping noise.

Three important looking men in suits and ties sat at a table. Each one had a red button. On the signal, all three would push their buttons. That way, they would all have clean concisiouses; none of them would be able to say for certain that they killed a man. What a hypocracy! Ray was being punished for the same thing they were doing. But they were considered honorable and just.

On a request from the warden, his assistant reported that there was no word from the courts. The warded nodded grimly. There would be no 11th hour stay of execution. He said a few words, as Ray's heart pounded in his mouth.

"On my signal" he said. "5....4.....3.......2........now."

A red light came on. Ray felt nothing at first. But then a tingling sensation started in his feet, like they had fallen asleep. But then it started to spread. He felt cold. Very cold.

Now he was numb from the waist down. He strained to move, but he was strapped down too tightly. The numbness worked its way into his hands, then his arms. Now he could feel nothing at all. He couldn't even cry. He couldn't even breath. Even the lights in his eyes were fading now, turning to black.

"No pulse" said the medical examiner, confirming what the machine said, with a stead tone rather than the previous rhythmic beeps. He opened Ray's eyelids, and shone a strong light in. No dilation.

"I pronounce him dead at 11:57pm, June 11th" said the medical examiner.

The three important men shook hands. The M.E. and the witnesses all left, as the warden pulled the curtain closed, and ordered his staff to clean up.

As soon as everyone was gone, the nurse pulled out the tubes and turned off the heart monitor. She looked around, then pulled out a syringe. She took the needle off, put it into Ray's throat, and emptied it's contents.

She pushed Ray's gurney down the hall, and into a waiting van, which was soon out on the highway, speeding off into the night.

* * *

Ray saw white. He saw! He could think!

"Is this heaven?" he said out loud in a gasping raspy voice. All he could see was white.

"No, you're at AFI" said a man. Ray tried to look, but all was still white. He was blind.

"It will take quite a while for your eyes to regain function. You were clinically dead for five minutes."

"I'm alive?" said Ray

"Yes."

"But the poison..."

"A paralizing toxin derived from the puffer fish and the Indian cobra. One that could fool an M.E. But if you receive the antivenom in time, you recover. As you did."

"But I was to be put to death..."

"Yes, you were. But with a few bribes in the right place, we were able to procure you for our production facility."

Ray was puzzled. What did the man mean by that?

"Let me introduce myself" said the man. "I am Brandon Lombard. I am the owner of AFI. I don't often have the chance to give tours, but you are a special case. I think you will get a tour before we begin our process."

Ray was even more confused now. Perhaps after being out of it for so long, he wasn't quite hearing things right. But he was just glad to be alive now. He looked around as his eyes came into focus finally. He was in a wheelchair, but strapped in place so that he could not move.

Brandon unlocked the wheels, and pushed him out the door, then down the hallway. As he did so, he began to talk.

"You see my friend, there is a fortune to be made if you have a good product. My research showed that women all over the world use different formulas to feed their babies. But research shows that breast milk is by far the best nutriant for a growing child. Mother nature designed it to meet all their needs."

Ray just stared ahead. Who cared? It was a woman's job to raise the kids, not his.

"But many young mothers have careers. Or they don't want to go through some of the hassles of breast feeding. So they put their babies on formula. Until now. I market a product which is exactly like mother's milk. They buy it as fast as I can make it. Would you like to see my production facility?"

"Sure, why not" said Ray.

Brandon pushed a button, and the two doors in front of them swung open. Instead of seeing a factory, Ray saw what looked more like a hospital ward. There were beds at regular intervals, all along the wall. In each bed was a woman. All the patients were attached to machines, and had IVs and tubes. Nurses in white uniforms went around checking them, writing down their vital signs.

"At first, I used volunteers, women who agreed to be milked for a fee" said Brandon. "But it was difficult to get a regular ones. They didn't like it, and quit. And I needed a much higher volume if I was to go national. So I sought out an alternative."

He rolled up the wheelchair to one particular bed.

"This is Emma Branch. She is 37. She was in a car crash, and went into a coma. She is braindead, kept alive only by machines. Her husband went broke in 4 months trying to pay her hospital bills. Now, he earns a few dollars extra every week, and I provide all her care."

"How do you do that?" asked Ray.

"Her brain is dead, but not her body. I have the proper hormones injected into her daily. In response, her breasts produce milk. Three times a day, the milkmaids come around, hook her up to a pump, and milk her."

"You're not serious!" said Ray, but Brandon only chuckled.

"We were able to surpass our previous production levels, and we now had a stable number of milk producers. That made it much easier to predict production volumes, and to keep our supply to the stores regular."

He moved the wheelchair down several beds. Ray looked at this one. His face...it was a man!

"We had orders for three times more product than we could supply" continued Brandon. "So after quire a few experiments, we came up with something that worked."

He pulled back the white sheet covering the man's chest. Ray gaped when he saw that the man had a pair of perfect looking D-cup female breasts on his chest. His chest was shaved, but the large boobs looked out of place with his muscles.

"We now have a process where we can use the right combination of hormones, protiens and accelerators, to grow large feminine breasts on a man. We then castrate him, use a testicles blocker to eliminate any residual amount in his system, and put him on high doses of female hormones."

"That's cruel!" said Ray.

"Then, his body responds to the same hormone therepy that we use on the women. In fact, the men produce more milk for us, because their breasts are newer."

"Why are you showing me this?" said Ray, disgusted with this show of evil.

"Because, the nurse at the prison screwed up. When the toxins took hold of you, you were clinically dead for a few minutes. She was supposed to wait ten minutes, to make sure that when you were revived, you would be braindead. But she put the antidote in too soon. You only suffered minor brain damage. That is why you are conscious right now."

It began to sink in to Ray's mind what was going to happen to him here at the AFI facility. He had to get away! But he was unable to move, because of the bindings in his wheelchair.

"You won't get away with this!" he said.

"Really?" responded Brandon. "Lets see. The M.E. pronounced you dead. My driver who delivered you here has given a bowl of ashes to your family. Nobody thinks you exist anymore. You are not a person. You are legally dead. You don't exist, so how would they ever think to look for you? No my friend, I *will* get away with it."

A nurse had walked over while Brandon was telling this to Ray. He was too wrapped up in the conversation to notice her pull out a syringe. She quickly stuck it in his arm, and he immediately went limp, his head hanging down and to the left.

"I know what you did, murdering that innocent woman" said Brandon. "That is why I have decided that you will share a slightly different fate from the others here."

Ray was in a panic, but could do nothing now. He was completely paralyzed.

"Yes, I will castrate you like the others, and you will soon have your very own set of large feminine breasts. When you undergo your surgury, my doctor will break your neck. You will be paralyzed from the neck down, just as the drug you just received has done on a temporary basis. You will be able to see, hear, think, and feel. But you won't be able to move."

Ray tried to scream. No sound came from his drooling mouth.

"When you awake next, you will be nothing more than a milk factory. Existing only to produce milk from your large breasts. You will be awake, able to feel everything. You will feel it as the estrogens alter your body. You will feel it when we hook you up, and suck the milk out from your &tts. three times every day. You will feel it when the nurses slap you because they hate you so much for all that you have done, and what you are."

Ray started to cry.

"You will be fed through a tube. You will know no pleasures. The only reason you exist, is so that your breasts have a body to live on. I can't wait until you are lactating, and I personally hook you up for the first time."

Ray tried to fight it, but sleep was overcoming him now. He wished now that he *had* died, instead of this.

* * *

Ray woke up, and looked around. He tried to move his arm, but it did not respond. He tried to move his leg, but the same thing. He looked out to his toes, but two large mounds on his chest obscured his feet from his vision.

"Oh look who's up!" said the nurse cheerfully. She pushed a button, and a few moments later, Brandon arrived. He was all smiles.

"Let me show you a few of your changes" he said warmly. "First, I'm sure you've noticed these."

He lifted up the sheet, and Ray tried to gasp as he saw the breasts on his chest.

"They're only C cups now, but they're rapidly growing. I'd like to add at least 2 more cups sizes. What do you think Betsy?"

"Oh yes. You should go for the record."

"I think I might just do that" chuckled Brandon.

The nurse removed the sheet entirely, and went around by Ray's feet with a mirror.

"Look into the mirror Ray, and see what the surgeon did to you. You see, it's all gone. Not only did I have you castrated, but I had your penis removed too. That way, it is easier to put in a tube to collect your pee. See how it sticks up inside of you like that? I might allow the male employees here to have a go at you, if they feel like it. Would you like that Ray?"

Ray really wanted to die now. Why couldn't they have just made him braindead like the others?

"You will notice that you can't speak either. I can't have the nice quiet here disturbed by screams and such from you. No, you will be silent as you lay in bed every day, producing your milk."

Ray cried again, the tears flowing hard. Nurse Betsy covered him up again, and walked off with Brandon.

"Milking time in 2 hours!" he called out to Ray as he left. Ray heard him laughing with Betsy as the moved out of earshot.

Ray closed his eyes, but it wouldn't go away. He looked at his new &tts. He looked at the tube that ran into his new slit. He wished again that he would just die. But instead, he had to endure the start of the monotony he would feel for the rest of his life.

He spotted two dark spots on the sheet. He was lactating already. Soon they would come to milk him for the first time. Like a human cow. He closed his eyes, but knew it would be of no use. He was stuck like this forever now....

  

  

  

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