Człowiek Mleczarnia Gospodarstwo, Sp. Z O.O

by Geaux Mama

Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa, Reluctant, Mind Control, Drunk/Drugged, Lesbian, Science Fiction, FemaleDom, Oral Sex, Lactation, Body Modification, Big Breasts, Science fiction adult story, sci-fi adult story, science fiction sex story, sci-fi sex story, sci-fi mind control story.

Desc: Mind Control Sex Story: The story of some creative recruitment methods going on at the human dairy farm.

DISCLAIMER: This work is intended solely for an adult audience. If you're under 18, or not into explicit erotica, stop reading now.

Copyright © 2012 Joe Mama

Some rights reserved.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.5 License. To view a copy of this license, visit or send a letter to Creative Commons, 543 Howard Street, 5th Floor, San Francisco, California, 94105, USA.

[Synopsis & acknowledgments: this grows (again) out of appreciation for all the usual suspects who have so powerfully covered this subject matter before I did, plus Synthean's PharmGen universe [example here:], the lovely ladies at, and too much idle speculation about exactly how those ladies got to be so lovely.]

Sunday, 3:52pm.

The first phone call was picked up after the third ring.

"Hello," said the person who answered it, with that tone of distraction and indifference that comes from spending too much time on the phone.

"HELP!!" shouted the patient. "HELP ME! ARE YOU THERE?? OH, SHIT, CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME??!!" she continued, sobbing a little as she rushed out each panicked syllable. "PLEASE!! FUCK, PLEASE SOMEBODY, HELP ME!!!"

"Okay, okay! Listen!" replied the voice, finally managing to interrupt. "I'll help you! I'll ... try to help you but you have to slow down and expl--"

"[Wait!!]," the patient replied in a forced whisper. "[Shit. I think someone's coming... ]" She paused as though listening for something but her shuddering breaths were still audible over the phone. "[SHIT!!]" she whisper-shouted again.

The voice paused and waited for more, but only a second later the line went dead.

Sunday, 4:08pm.

The second call, from the same number, was picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?" said the voice with a hint of urgency.

"Hello?" the patient whispered back. "Hello? Uh, hi, can you hear me? Who is this?" she continued, before the voice could answer the first question.

The voice paused a beat before responding. "Who's this? Look, you called me, sister. So you first: who's this?"

The patient paused. "Well, this is... ," she paused again. "Well, it's me. From before. I'm ... I'm in a room."

"Oh, 'from before, '" replied the voice flatly. "But no name. So you're in--"

"A room," confirmed the patient. "I'm ... in this room, and I'm..." Her tone sounded like she should have had more to say but no words followed.

Now the voice paused again. And then replied with sarcasm, "Yeah, I get that you're in a room. So am I, so is anyone who isn't ... sitting out under some, fucking, tree somewhere ... Look, who is this, really? Is this Debbie?" She chuckled and continued with a laugh, "Bitch, if you're fucking with me ag--"

The patient interrupted, her whispered voice rising in urgency "No, I'm not ... I need help. I need you to help me. I... ," the patient paused again, searching for words. "I'm in this room."

"Right, the room, got it," said the voice, losing patience. "Look, Debbie, or whoever you are, I have no idea why you think this kind of pain-in-the-ass is funny, okay? So I'm hanging up now. Goodb--"

"But I'm [naked]!" blurted the patient.

"You're ... what??" replied the voice, with at least a little incredulity.

"Naked," replied the patient. "Pretty much. I mean, I've got like a hospital gown on but nothing at all underneath. Look, the point is that I just woke up like a half hour ago in some fucked up white room, with no windows, and just a door with a slot in it. And I found my clothes and my phone just sitting over there on a chair next to the--. Wait." She paused again. "Actually, I'm not sure these are my clothes. And... , maybe this isn't my..."


"Well, there's this ... pile of clothes on a chair, and I thought they were mine but ... there's no way I could ... I mean, there's just no way."


"Hello?" This time it was the voice, wondering where her mystery caller went. "Are you still there?"

"Uh yeah," said the patient. "Sorry - uh, sorry, look, uh ... I gotta go. Sorry. Bye."


Sunday, 9:11pm.

"Hello?" said the voice.

"Hi," said the patient softly, "it's, well ... it's me. Again. From before?"

After a pause, the voice simply said, "O-kay."

After which the caller didn't respond.

So the voice continued, "Well look, I talked to Debbie earlier this evening and got convinced enough that this isn't one of her stupid practical jokes, but that means I'm kind of at a loss here. It's not that I don't want to help you, nameless one, if you really do need help, but I don't even know where to start. You've hung up on me twice now, remember?"

"No, I know," replied the patient. "I'm trying to figure out how to explain why I'm calling you, but it's just ... complicated."

"Well, what the fuck," said the voice, "I'll play along. Complicated how?"

"Complicated like, there are things I think I remember, like I said earlier about the clothes? How I could swear they're mine? But those things like that ... well, they make no sense. Especially considering things that now I know that I know."

"So wait," replied the voice, trying to keep up, "there are things you're sure you know now, that don't jibe with things you think you remember?"


"Well, whatever, I guess. I suppose that does sound kinda puzzling. Like what?"

"Well. Like..."


The patient lowered her voice again to a whisper. "Like, [my breasts]," she said.

"Your b-breasts??" stammered the voice.

"Yes, it's weird, I know, but the thing is ... So there's these clothes, on that chair, right? Like I mentioned? Well, I could have sworn they're mine, I mean, I even specifically remember wearing them, I think I even remember buying them, but ... Well, they're way too small. Especially, you know, up top."

"Too small?" asked the voice.

"Yes, I mean, I checked the bra, and it's a 32B."

After a short pause the voice asked, "Okay. And so I take it..."

"Yeah, I mean ... well, there's no way. It wouldn't even come close."

"You mean, your ... well, your boobs are..."

"Huge," said the patient. "I mean, huge, definitely way bigger than ... like at least a double-D or something. In fact, I think that could be why I'm topless, I mean, there is literally no way these would fit in those clothes."

"Wow. Okay. Fair enough, I guess," replied the voice.

"And they're also just really... {sensitive}," explained the patient, whispering the last word like it was a scandal.

"Sensitive? Like, sore?"

"Well, yeah, kinda. But also like ... you know, {sensitive}." She paused again, and then whispered, "{And not just my breasts, I mean, it's my whole body, }" she added, dropping off into a sigh. "{Everything I touch ... just feels soooo gooood, but [gasp] pinching my nipples just makes me, like--}"


"Um, hello?" asked the voice.

Deep, soft moans then filled the line for several long moments before it eventually went dead.

Monday 10:14am

"So, here's the thing," the patient began, after clearing her throat. "So I found this phone with the clothes, in the pocket of the skirt, right? And same thing: I really could have sworn it was mine, it even has the exact same case around it that I know mine had, but it doesn't have any of my contacts in it. In fact," she added, "it's only got one phone number in it."

"This one," said the voice.

"Bingo," said the patient. "But that can't be right. I know I had, like, hundreds of phone numbers programmed in here, and now the only one is a number I don't even recognize? And I can't even remember any other numbers at all, not even my own. It just makes no sense. Hey, tell me something: what number comes up on the caller id screen when I call you?"

"There isn't a number. It just says 'unavailable, '" said the voice. "What description is listed on that contact?" she asked.

"Nothing," replied the patient. "There's no name or anything on the list, just this number listed under 'mobile.' But it doesn't say anything at all about whose mobile."

"Hunh. Damn," said the voice.

"Yeah, exactly. Damn. Plus the guards, or nurses, or whatever they are just come and go without ever even talking to me - did I mention that?"

"No, wait, who comes and goes?"

"I don't know - sorry, I get really foggy about which parts of this I've already told you about and which ones I haven't."

"Well, you said someone was coming once - first time you called me, in fact, but you never explained who it was. So who are these people? Are they guards or nurses? Or some of each?"

"Well, no, they're all basically the same, but I really don't know who they are. They come in from time to time and, like, pinch and prod my titti-- I mean, uh, my breasts, and then they prick one of my fingers and dab the blood against this little electronic thingy. Then they usually give me a couple shots, sometimes five or six, actually, and they leave. I guess they act more like nurses than guards but those masks are just so scary-looking that I figu--"

"Wait - the what? The masks?"

.... There is more of this story ...

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