Author: Hoop

Title: Incarceration Ch.12

Part: Chapter 12

Summary: Laura is milked.

Keywords: FF, bd, lactation



"What did she do to you, Emma?"

Laura went over to the girl, who had just finished lowering herself very carefully to sit on the floor. Her thighs, and a good portion of her chest beneath her underwear, were wrapped with white bandages. Her eyes were red.

"She used a cane," she said. "God. Laura, you can't imagine how it felt."

Laura wracked her brains for something conciliatory to say, and decided that platitudes probably wouldn't make the girl feel any better. She wasn't sure what, if anything, would make any of them feel better right now.

"Jeez," she said.

"What if it gets worse?" said Emma. "I mean, she gave Claire piercings, right? What if she starts doing more stuff like that?"

"I guess we'll find out one way or the other," said Laura. She sat down beside her. "Not as if we know what to expect. I mean, why's she doing any of this at all? Why us?"

They sat in silence, neither of them bothering to attempt an answer. Laura saw that Emma's arms were shaking slightly, and that she was hugging herself. The cell's temperature, along with their new attire, made it just slightly too cool to be totally comfortable.

"Hey," she said, "you cold?"

Emma shrugged, but her facial expression said that she was. Laura lifted her arm.

She scooted over, and they sat closer. While she kept her distance at first, Emma gradually relaxed, with Laura's arm over her shoulder. Laura could see that the most recent ordeal had left her drained. Her eyes were closed, and she winced every so often when a change in position aggravated her bruises. Although neither of them said it, both the girls appreciated the little extra warmth from the other's body. 

Emma fell asleep with her head on Laura's shoulder. Laura remained still in order to allow her to rest, although she couldn't resist tousling a strand of the girl's pure white hair around her finger in fascination. It really was completely devoid of colour, right down to the roots. At one point, the sleeping girl's hand slipped from Laura's shoulder and brushed her chest on the way down. Laura flinched. Ever since she had woken up in the morning, her breasts had felt tender - not quite sore, but something had definitely changed. She rubbed at herself ineffectually with her fingers, trying to soothe the ache.

This day seemed unusually devoid of perverse tortures. An attendant visited them once with food, and, other than that, the girls were left to while away the time until they were bored enough to go to sleep.

---

Laura didn't feel particularly well rested when she felt a hand gently shaking her by the shoulder. Helen was the one responsible for the awakening, kneeling beside her with a finger held to her lips. Laura propped herself up on her elbows.

"Early start today, 523," Helen whispered.

The attendant outside the cell held Laura still while Helen shoved a wad of material into her mouth, and smoothed a few strips of sticky tape over her lips.

"Can't have you waking everyone else up," she said. She fastened a leather collar around Laura's neck, and used it to pull her along by its chain. Their walk ended in another white-tiled room; Laura couldn't remember if it was one she had already seen. The temperature surprised her: a pair of extra heaters had raised the room's climate to something that was actually quite warm. The room's centre held a metal frame with cushioned pads at various places in its construction. Judging from the restraining cuffs hanging from it, this would be where Laura was going to spend the morning. She was slightly more concerned about the industrial-looking piece of apparatus on a trolley in one corner, a bundle of pipes and shapes of metal and glass.

Helen liberated her of her camisole. Her breasts felt even worse than the previous day, now. She hadn't realised just how sensitive her nipples had become until the fabric of her undergarment was tugged up over them. Helen seemed to be paying particular attention to those parts of her body today. She palmed and palpated each breast in turn, peering at them closely. 

They secured her to the metal frame after that. The attendant hoisted Laura over his shoulder to manoeuvre her into position, and Helen took each of her legs in turn and strapped them in place against flat, padded lengths of the frame, so that she was kneeling. A pair of wrist cuffs held her arms out in front of her, and the whole frame was tilted so that Laura was leaning forwards slightly. The final restraints were fastened across her thighs and tummy, with another pair of straps around her shoulders like a backpack. By the time they had finished with the elaborate set-up, Laura was positioned as if midway through diving into a pool (albeit inexpertly, with her arms parted before her.)

"I wonder if you can guess what's going to happen yet," said Helen.

She stood in between Laura's arms. The frame held Laura high enough that they were at eye-level if she cared to lift her head up. It was more comfortable to look at the floor, for more reasons than just the physical.

"I've been wondering whether this will work myself, actually," said Helen. "Zoe- ah, I mean, 271, wasn't the best person at keeping records of her work while she was here."

Helen was uncomfortably close now. Laura could feel her breath tickling her ear as she spoke. "She was quite the scientist, you know. I had her making all kinds of interesting chemicals for me. It's amazing the sort of changes you can trigger in a body with the right drug, or hormone." 

She flattened her palm against one of Laura's nipples, and squeezed her flesh with her hand. The reasons for Laura's soreness were starting to dawn on her. She remembered the injection that Helen had given her a couple of days ago - obviously her body had taken some time to respond to the chemical stimulus.

Helen must have seen some hint of her comprehension in her. She smirked. Then she started to knead Laura's breast a little more firmly, gripping close to her ribs, with her hand cupping her tit in its entirety. A weird sensation built in Laura's chest as Helen continued to massage her. An unfamiliar feeling - a sense that, somehow, something needed to be released. 

With a slightly more forceful tug, the first squirt of white liquid issued from Laura's nipple.

"Ha!" Helen cried, "it worked! It actually worked!" She cupped Laura's face in her hands as she beamed at her. "Well done, 523," she said. "Good girl." She kissed Laura on the forehead, and then knelt down on the floor, looking up at Laura's hanging breasts. She reached up and tugged, and another dribble of milk emerged, splashing onto the floor in a scatter of creamy-coloured droplets. She massaged the other breast with both of her hands, and soon she had the milk flowing from that one too.

Laura wasn't sure how to feel. The process wasn't painful; it just felt quite strange, and completely unfamiliar. The idea that lactation could be induced without having anything at all to do with childbirth seemed far-fetched to her, but the white splashes on the floor were the proof. The fact that Helen had been able to manipulate her body to do something over which Laura had no control made her feel anxious. What else might she be capable of?

Helen stood up again, and as she walked over to the trolley in the corner, a trickle of milk ran down Laura's chest from her moist nipple. Helen wheeled the trolley in front of her, and the purpose of the apparatus became more obvious in the context of Laura's new-found ability. There were a pair of tubes, each ending in a clear plastic cup a couple of inches across. The tubes, of translucent silicone, lead to a large glass flask. A side-arm from the flask connected it to a pair of pistons with a gauge atop them - presumably some sort of pump.

"I wonder how much we can get out of you, 523?"

Helen flicked a switch on the pump and it sprang to life, purring quietly while the dial on the gauge quivered. She picked up one of the tubes.

"Best to make sure it forms a good seal," she explained, before running her tongue around the rim of the suction cup. She did the same with the other, and held them both in front of Laura's breasts.

"You ready?" she said.

Laura made an anxious whimper.

Helen gently placed the cups over her nipples. There was the sound of sucking air, just before the gap closed and the plastic sealed against Laura's skin. Her nipple bulged outwards slightly under the reduced pressure. The second stuck in place on her other breast, and Helen squeezed them lightly as white fluid started to spatter against the cups' inner surfaces and creep along the tubes.

Laura was trying to groan, although the mouthful of wadding and the sticky tape were doing a good job of muffling the sounds. Helen's manipulations were gentle compared to the constant suction of the machine. She kept one hand on Laura's breast while she tweaked a pair of dials on the pump, and the suction started to come in pulses. The level of fluid in the tubes jerked along periodically, and the first drops started to fall into the clear flask, initially dribbling in, and then flowing in brief jets that spattered the sides of the vessel with small droplets. Laura was amazed that so much of the liquid could be milked from her. Helen continued to massage her breasts until there was an inch or so of milk in the flask, and then stood back, allowing the machine to do its work.

Helen left the room for a few minutes and returned with a bowl of ice. She adjusted the clamps holding the flask in place and slid the bowl beneath it, settling the flask back into place with a crunching sound as the ice surrounded it. The jets of milk were making regular sloshing sounds as they were sucked into the flask.

It filled up by another inch. Laura's breasts were starting to feel the strain now. A bead of sweat ran down her nose, and she lifted her head to look at Helen. She made a sound to illustrate her discomfort. Helen didn't seem to have done anything particularly cruel to her today - yet. Perhaps she would be sympathetic.

"Mmh," she said.

"What was that, 523?"

"Mh hmmm."

Helen fussed around with the machine briefly, and the pulses of suction became slightly slower. The amount of liquid trickling into the flask became less.

"Mhh."

"Hmm, I suppose it might be a bit uncomfortable for you now," she said. "But look how much you made! And on your first time!" She pointed to the flask, which contained probably a quarter pint of the creamy liquid. She clicked her fingers at the attendant.

"We need more than this," she said. "Maybe she's getting dehydrated. Fetch the feeding tube."

"Mmmmh," Laura protested. That didn't sound like something she wanted to be involved with.

"Oh, don't worry, 523. It's nothing too bad. Come to think of it, you haven't eaten in a while, anyway. And you can't produce this lovely milk if you're malnourished now, can you?"

The process continued, each burst of suction now causing a slight prickling sensation as more and more milk was drawn out of her. The attendant returned wheeling a metal stand, the sort from which intravenous drips are hung in hospitals. This one was much sturdier, with a large, plastic container on the top. There was a digital counter and a control console, and a thick tube snaking down from the container. The tube's end had a mouthpiece, like a snorkel's, protruding through a hole in a square of black leather. A confusing bundle of leather straps sprouted from around it.

"This will top up your lost fluids," said Helen. "There are a few other things in there too that should help." She worked a fingernail under the tape stuck to Laura's mouth, who winced in anticipation of its removal. Helen peeled it from her face in a long, continuous motion that had her skin tingling fiercely. She hooked her finger into Laura's mouth and pulled out the damp wadding. Laura ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth.

"Please, Helen," she said. "I can't make any more. It's too much." She glanced over to the flask, which was filling up a few drips at a time now. Her breasts were aching worse than ever. "I'm so sore!" she pleaded.

"Maybe now," said Helen. She took the end of the tube, with its bundle of straps, in her hand. "But this will make it better. Open up."

Laura did as she was told. The rubber mouthpiece slipped neatly into place between her teeth, and her lips were sealed around it by the leather. One pair of straps, which crossed below her chin, was fastened at the back of her neck. The rest of the harness looped up over the top of her head before joining on to the first strap, holding everything firmly in place. Laura pushed at the mouthpiece with her tongue. It wouldn't budge.

Helen seemed dissatisfied somehow. She tilted her head as she considered something, and then she unfastened the top part of the harness again. She disappeared for a few minutes, and when she returned, she brought with her a blindfold. She settled its elastic strap over Laura's head, and pulled it down over her eyes. She felt the rest of the gag's harness being secured again. 

"Don't want you to be distracted, 523. Just try to relax."

Laura heard a few electronic noises from above her, and the tube in her mouth jerked once. The inability to see what was coming down the tube only made it worse, and she shifted her head around anxiously. She would have squirmed with the rest of her body, were it not completely tied down to the extent that she couldn't even move an inch. The tube in her mouth twitched again, and she felt something ooze out of the end, onto her tongue.

Whatever they were feeding her was warm and thick, something akin to porridge in consistency. She moved her tongue around as more of it squeezed into her mouth. It tasted faintly of vanilla. Another glob of the stuff forced its way in, and she was obliged to start swallowing. Laura gulped down a couple of mouthfuls of the slop, and had to pause to breathe through her nose. She almost choked on the next lot, and realised she would have to establish some sort of rhythm between swallowing and breathing.

It didn't taste terrible. She might actually have eaten it voluntarily, if it were brought to them in the cell. With the blindfold covering her eyes, all her attention was focussed on the feeding tube strapped into her mouth, the rest of the bonds tight against her limbs, or the steady throb of the machine against her breasts. She felt a touch against the side of her face.

"You're doing great, 523."

Laura didn't know how long she remained there after that. The passage of time was marked by the thrumming of the machine and by the tube's doses of warm gruel, neither of which she cared to keep count of as she swallowed, and felt the liquid trickling out of her in steady bursts. Her stomach was starting to strain, and it was becoming more and more difficult to gulp down each mouthful before the next was pushed into her mouth. She moaned as much as the gag would allow her. She wasn't even sure if Helen was still there.

It felt like a long time had passed. Everything about the ordeal became more and more strenuous. She wondered whether they'd free her if it looked like she was hurting. She was straining her arms against the frame when she finally felt hands unfastening the harness from around her head. Her stomach felt bloated and swollen from the tube's constant feeding, and her breasts throbbed with a hot ache. The mouthpiece was removed just as it disgorged another dose of gruel, and she opened her mouth and pushed out her tongue. The food-stuff made a wet splat it landed on the floor. She blinked moisture from her eyes as the blindfold was removed - either tears or sweat, she wasn't entirely sure. She looked across at the flask, and something between a gasp and a groan escaped her lips at the sight of the vessel, which now contained at least a couple of pints of her milk. Helen turned the machine off, and, with no suction to hold them in place, the cups peeled away of their own accord. Laura's breasts were numb and tingly.

"Done," said Helen. "And we got so much! You make a good little cow-girl, 523."

"Wh-" Laura started to speak, and let out a long belch, an after-effect from the force-feeding. She swallowed hard, trying to bring her bloated stomach under control. "Why are you doing this?" she said. She gestured around as much as her manacled hand allowed her. "All of this. I don't get it. Why me?"

"I bet you'd like to know," said Helen. She leaned against the apparatus table, and trailed her finger along the smooth surface of the milk flask. "About why I'm doing this." She turned to the attendant and instructed him to remove the trolley. He wheeled it away, the flask's contents sloshing against the sides. Laura was left alone with Helen.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt if you were to know a teeny bit of information," she said, illustrating the size she intended with a thumb and forefinger barely touching each other. She fetched her tablet computer from where she had placed it at the side of the room, and cradled it in one arm as she faced Laura. "You're probably starting to remember the details of how you got here, by now."

"Yeah..." said Laura, "a bit." It was a complete lie, but maybe it would make Helen divulge more than she intended.

"So you can probably see why we did what we did, then," said Helen.

"I... I guess so?"

"Look," said Helen, "There are obviously things that I won't tell you. But the-"

The door of the room swung open as an attendant barged his way in. His right hand was cradling his left, which had the crescent shape of a bite-mark on it.

"Miss Stanford," he panted, "they need you in room fourteen. One of the girls got a bit disobedient. She needs some, uh, extra supervision."

Helen gave a frustrated sigh, and rolled her eyes. "161 again?" she asked. 

The attendant nodded.

"Sorry," she said. "This sounds kind of urgent. Take this one back to her cell, will you?" she said to the attendant. "Her number's 523. And then go and get your hand taken care of."

She turned to leave. Laura just glimpsed some sort of acronym, 'mkultra', displayed at the top of her computer screen, and then she was gone.

---

The three girls looked at the tray of food that had been brought to the cell. Zoe felt a bit more coherent after a night's rest, although she had awoken several times, covered in sweat. She had slept uncovered - even just a blanket had seemed too restrictive around her. She was still making up for the lack of food during her prolonged session the previous day, and was already holding one of the bowls in her hand. 

"At least this is more like a real breakfast," she said. "I mean, corn flakes makes a hell of a lot more sense than donuts, like last time."

She picked up the jug and poured some milk over her bowl of cereal. Condensation had beaded on the outside; the contents were ice-cold. She dug in with a plastic spoon, and took a big mouthful.

"Hmmm." She swallowed her corn flakes. "Ugh," she said, "this milk tastes kind of weird. See what you think."

Claire frowned as she munched a mouthful of her own cereal. Emma poured herself some of the milk, but waited for Claire's verdict.

"I don't know," she said. "It's really strange! Is it UHT or something?"

"It's not all that bad, though..."



