AUTHOR'S NOTE: First story I've written in a long time. Constructive criticism is always welcomed. I put this in the Sci-fi/fantasy category, because I think it fits best here. I realize that it could also fit into several others like non-consent/reluctance though.

Enjoy

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The year is 2129. Earth had been united under a single government. Overpopulation and exploitation of natural resources has left the population in poverty. It is in this setting, that one man gets a job...

I was excited. It was rare to have a job right out of high school, and God knows that I couldn't afford college with were 3 billion other people trying to get in. I had never heard of this company before I applied. Like everyone else, I must have applied for over a thousand jobs and expected to get zero offers. However, I was lucky, or so I thought. This one company, Reformed Dairy Penal Zone, offered me a job as a security guard.

I thought it was strange that I was being offered a job as a security guard when I had pretty much no experiences or skills that would make me a good candidate for the job. It was no surprise to me that is was for a penal facility though. In this economy, the government and its sponsored companies were by far the biggest employers.

I was about 6 feet tall, brown hair, pretty well built, but no body builder. Regardless of my skill sets, I wasn't going to turn down a job in this economy.

When I reported to work, I was surprised to see what looked like a prison on the outskirts of town. After the Criminal Reform Acts of 2089, all prisons had been shut down, criminals were now sent to penal colonies or reform centers. I figured this place must have been repurposed, and I wondered, not for the first time, what it was they did here. And how could a it be a dairy when it was on the outskirts of town?

When I reached the gate of the outer wall, I gave my name to the guards at the gate and was buzzed in. I was then escorted into one of the buildings in the compound, and ushered into a small office. The man behind the desk in the office motioned for me to sit down.

"You must be Mike," he said. "My name is Tom, I guess I am what you can call the human resources director here. You are probably wondering several things. Namely, what is it we do here, and why were you chosen for this job."

"I am," I replied.

"Well before I can tell you that, and officially give you the job, you have to sign these documents," Tom said sliding some papers forward. "They are quite lengthy documents. You are welcome to read them, but if your prefer I can also summarize them for you."

I took one look at the thick stacks of paper and front of me full of confusing legal jargon and said, "Please, just summarize them for me"

"Well, essentially, they say that the work you will be doing here, and things that you will see, are highly confidential. If you tell anyone about what goes on here, you will face penalties. Same goes for any major violation of our rules."

"Sounds fair to me. Where do I sign?"

After I had signed and initialed in the appropriate places, Tom spoke up again.

"I will start by telling you why you were chosen for the job. First, this place is not difficult to guard with modern security technology. We do not need highly trained professionals or strength men here. Second, your test scores show that you are above average intelligence. We don't look for dumb street thugs who will run their mouths at the first chance they get. It's a bad deal for all involved.

"As for what we do here, well, that's a more complicated question. The first thing you should know, is that we produce dairy products, and the vast majority of the workers here are former convicted criminals. You see, after the Reform Acts of '89, the government became desperate to supply convicts not eligible for counseling or reform school with work that would be cost effective in an already terrible economy, and keep them safely away from the average law-abiding citizen, of course. This is a small part of the solution. The prisoners we are sent are ones sentenced for life from all around the world. They are mostly female. As I said this is always so hard to explain. So I think I should just show you." Tom pressed the intercom button on his desk. "Send it in," he said into the intercom.

A few seconds later, a door behind his desk opened. I heard a man shout, "Get in there, cow!" and heard a small, feminine cry.

What came through the door took my breath away.

At first, I thought it was a woman with huge, basketball sized breasts, with some of the longest nipples I had ever seen. Then I looked down and saw what I eventually identified as male genitals locked in a clear plastic chastity device. Even though it was constrained in the cock cage, I could tell the penis was huge, it was at least 8 inches. The balls, too, were huge almost the size of baseballs.

In confusion I looked at Tom.

"Your confusion is understandable," he said. "This is what we call a Humanoid Futanari Cow. Or, as we prefer to call them, FutaCows. I know this is hard to take in, but try to pay attention to what I tell you. This cow in front of you was once a normal human who committed a crime. Whatever her crime, the judge saw fit to give her a life sentence of labour. She was then determined to be a good candidate for our program. She was sent to us here with a small group of other criminals and then transformed into what she, or rather it, is now. I will explain how the transformation works shortly.

"Since it is these animal you will be guarding, I should explain some of their anatomy. As you see, the transformation gives them above average breasts. Huge boobs, actually. These utters produce large quantities of milk, which is what we ultimately sell to the public, though we say its regular cow milk, which it pretty much is, it just comes from the Futas. Anyways, obviously, they also carry both male and female genitals."

At this, Tom lifted the cow's dick and balls to show me the cow's vagina and engorged clitoris. As Tom handled it's genitals, the woman-man-cow, whatever it was, gave off a long moam.

Tom ignored the cow and continued. "Both genitals are functional, to an extent. After the change, the cows no longer menstruate. They vagina is still capable of getting aroused like a normal human, except orgasm is only possible for them through the penis. Actually their vaginas are ten times more sensitive than a normal human's, same with the ass and cock. The penis, however does produce a certain sort of semen during orgasm. The Futa's cannot get pregnant or impregnate anyone else, but their seed still has it's uses- I'll show you that later. We keep them in penile chastity for two reason's. The first is because it seems to increase milk production when they are unable to orgasm. It is the opposite with vaginal and anal stimulation, the more they get of that, the more milk they put out. Data shows that the hornier and more frustrated they are, the higher the output of milk. The second reason, well follow me and I'll show you."

In a daze, I followed Tom as he led me past the FutaCow and down a hallway. Eventually, stopped outside of a room.

"I should warn you. What you are about to see will be a little bit shocking, but remember that you've signed a confidentiality agreement. Whatever you witness here doesn't leave the facility."

Without further ado, Tom opened the door and let me into a sterile-looking white room with a bare concrete floor. In the center of the room was a naked woman down on all fours. After a moment, I realized the woman's hands and feet were cuffed to the floor.

She was pretty. Thin, with small breasts and short brown hair. Her skin was smooth and fair. I had could feel myself getting turned on just looking at her. After a moment, a door on the other side of the room opened.

A guard walked in with a FutaCow, naked of course. "We call that cow Bessy," Tom said. It was the very first human to be turned into a Futa, so she gets the honor of being unlocked and turning all of the new inmates."

"I don't understand," I said.

"You will in just a minute."

I watched as the guard bent down and unlocked and removed the cows chastity device. "Have at her Bessy!" the guard said cheerfully, slapping her ass as he backed up the edge of the room.

I then watched speechless as the cow's huge dick became hard, it had to be almost a foot long! Its nipples became hard as well, sticking out nearly two inches.

After a second, the cow got on it's knees behind the woman and plunged its cock into the woman's small, tight pussy without any warning. The woman screamed, and I could tell she was in intense pain as the cow quickly and violently thrust in and out of her, letting loose long, loud moans with each new thrust.

The woman continued to shriek in pain and surprise at the violation, but Bessy continued to take her doggystyle, thrusting back and forth, in and out of the woman's cunt. As she continued, Bessy' nipples started to leak milk.

After about five mintues of intense screwing, I could tell that Bessy was nearly finished. Indeed, a moment later she let out a long, loud moan and thrust a final time before practically collapsing on the woman.

For her part, the attractive young prisoner had stopped screaming a few minutes before, her face collapsing on the floor. When Bessy, exhausted from the fucking, fell onto, her the woman collapsed to the floor as well.

The guard stepped forward to pull Bessy off the woman. As he helped her feet I noticed something I'd missed before. Bessy's skin was smooth, flawless even. I admit, I had found both Bessy and the other futa I'd seen very attractive, despite the addition of a penis and scrotum. But as Betsy was escorted out of the room, I noticed what I'd missed before. On her left butt cheek "01" was branded on her skin. The brand was a little smaller than the size of my palm. Something about it sent shivers down my spine.

"What will happen to her now?" I asked Tom, gesturing to Bessy.

"Oh, she'll be taken to be cleaned up, and then she'll be put back into chastity and sent back to the milking room. We, on the other hand, will be staying here for a while and watching her," Tom replied, pointing to the collapsed woman on the floor.

"What for?" I asked, confused.

Tom checked his watch. "In about 15 minutes, you'll start to see. Just be patient. We believe it is important for anyone who works to witness this," he said.

So I turned my eyes to the beautiful prisoner. She was still passed out on the floor, whether from pain, exhaustion, or both I couldn't tell but I guessed it was the latter. I felt sorry for her. The pain of being fucked, against her will too, and the confusion she must have felt seeing a futa cow walk into the cell without any explanation would be traumatic for anyone. As a looked down at her groin, I saw Bessy's cum leaking out of her and puddling onto the floor. From the amount of semen I could see, Bessy's load must have been enormous.

Tom must have noticed the pained look on my face. "Don't feel too sorry for her," he said. "Remember, she's a convicted criminal who was given a life sentence. Whenever someone gets sentenced for life they go through psychological test to determine what area of service they should be sent to. This was hers. Besides, she'll be feeling better before too long."

I didn't respond. Instead, I watched her, no longer feeling aroused, but sympathetic. And, if truth be told, also curious. I wanted to see what this girl's ravishment had to do with anything. For the first time, I was wondering what would be worse, starving on the streets or working here.

It had been maybe 15 or 20 minutes since Bessy had been taken away when I started to notice some changes in the young woman. She was passed out on her side, her front facing us. The shackles that had held her on all fours had unclasped soon after Bessy was taken out of the room, and the woman had shifted into her current position. I began to notice that her breasts seemed to be growing, getting heavier and larger. I looked at Tom in confusion, all he did was smile at me though, and point back towards the woman. Her breasts continued to expand, slowly but surely. Then I noticed changes in her groin area. Her clitoris was growing larger, becoming more and more visible. A glance at her breasts told me they were still growing as well. What had once been A or small B cups were now large C's or D's.

Looking back down at her crotch, I saw her clitoris was beginning to take on the shape of a penis, small, but growing. After another 20 or 30 minutes, what appeared to be a scrotum began to take shape at the base of her now average sized penis. The growth of her breasts continued, but it seemed to be slowing down. They were now DD's for sure. The penis' growth seemed to be tapering off as well. It was now around seven inches, with a large pair of balls to got with it.

It had been less than two hours since Bessy had left the room, and the prisoner now had breasts and genitals to match the other futas I had seen. Now I understand how new Futas were made. Tom spoke for time in hours.

"Now you understand what purpose sperm serves the futas," he said. "A drop of futa cum in your system and you start to become one. Bessy was made in lab using hormones, drugs, and a shitload of genetic engineering, but that was all very expensive. The doctor's who designed her decided to make an easy way to create new futas. Now turning a convict into a cow is easy. Everything that it takes to transform a person into a futa is transmitted by sex. The doctors got the idea from sexually transmitted diseases people used to be able to catch from screwing."

"How...How is any of this legal?" I asked flabbergasted.

"The prison reform acts completely got rid of the death penalty and the old life sentences and replaced it with life-long penal servitude. When someone is sentenced to life they are basically considered legally dead. They no longer have the same basic rights as you and me. In some cases they are still allowed to be in contact with friends and family, but that all depends on what type of service they get sent into. Obviously, the futas don't get that privilege. We keep this place confidential because of the public reaction if people knew. Besides the people who work here, knowledge of this place is limited to top Justice Department officials and a select few politicians."

"Are there other places like this?" I asked.

"No other futa farms. I've heard rumors about other penal facilities that are classified, but who knows if that's true."

I stood in silence. Shocked, and trying to process this all.

"So now that you know everything, you have to decide if are you in or not," Tom said. "You're free to leave now, before your training goes any further, but if you ever breach the confidentiality agreement, you'll find yourself in front of a judge."

I was quiet as I thought about it. Something about this seemed wrong, if not legally then morally, about the whole situation. The woman here were raped by the cows, and then turned into cows themselves against their will. It seemed morally disgusting to me. But I needed the job, I needed the money. When I had been in Tom's office earlier, I had seen how much I would make. It wasn't a fortune by any means, but I could easily live comfortably off it, even support a family if I wanted and needed to. Besides, what other jobs were there going to be for me. Mechanization had eliminated most of the low skilled jobs, and you needed a college degree for everything else. What's more, these women were all convicted criminals, sentenced to life and what was going on here was government sponsored, not illegal. Still, I couldn't quite justify this in my mind. Looking for an excuse to say yes, I asked Tom about one of the things I was still unclear about.

"You said you sell the milk," I said. "How do you get it from here to the store?" I asked.

"After collecting it, we ship it to a government owned bottling plant. The people who work there are criminals too, but sentenced to short terms usually. All they're told is that the milk comes from a government owned and operated dairy, worked by convicts like themselves. From there some of it is sent to stores. Most of it though is given out for free to families and people in need-part of the government's poverty relief program."

This was all the justification I needed. What was produced here would go to help those in need.

"I'll take the job." I said.

"Great!" Tom exclaimed, shaking my hand. "Come back tomorrow morning and you'll be issued your full uniform and equipment and be everything will be explained to you. Today though, I want you to follow this new cow through the rest of its processing."

Tom hit a button on the wall, and three guards in uniform came in. Tom pointed to the one in the middle. "This is Bill. He's the chief guard here. He'll show you around for the rest of the day." Tom shook my hand once more before leaving the room.

Then, I shook hands with Bill and was introduced to the other two guards.

"Glad to have you Mike," Bill said. "Just follow us around for now. Feel free to ask any questions, but don't worry about anything else for today."

One of the other guards went up to the sleeping woman, or futa now, and hit her with his taser, shocking her awake.

After the new cow stopped screaming from the pain, she began to feel her body, recognizing at once that something was different. When she felt her breasts she let out a loud gasp. But when she looked down at her crotch she screamed.

"What the fuck have you done to me you bastards!" she shouted.

"Shut up!," Bill said. "You're not a woman any more, hell, you're not even a person. You're nothing but a fucking cow. We're going to put you in a stall and milk you for the rest of your life."

"What are you talking about? You can't do this to me!"

"Of course we can. This is all legal, you were sentenced to a life of penal service, and this is how you'll spend it. Now shut the hell up and get on your feet."

When she didn't comply, the other two guards stepped forward and pulled her off the ground, with the cow kicking and screaming the whole time. We walked out through the door Bessy had left from and took a right, going down a hallway until we ended up in room with a mirror in it. When the girl saw clearly for the first time what she had become she shrieked and started fighting the guards even harder.

Bill came forward and tased her again. "From here on out, every time you disobey or resist us, this is what'll happen. This facility is the most secure penal facility on the planet. You will not be escaping, so don't bother trying. We're going to process you and then take you to your new life of being milked. You can make this easy or hard. The choice is your's. My taser has plenty of juice in it."

The last shock and Bill's words seemed to have mixed with the the physical and mental exhaustion she no doubt felt. The girl, or cow, now seemed broken. She gave a small, pathetic nod.

Bill seemed happy by this response and nodded to the other guards. "Rub her down boys," he said.

The men then broke out a tube from some drawer. They put on rubber gloves and began to apply the foam from the can all over the cow's body, everywhere below her neck was completely covered in a white foam that resembled shaving cream.

"This is a hair removal foam," Bill told me. "We put on all the cows to improve hygiene. We find keeping them nice and hairless not just keeps the lice away, but also keeps them smelling better. We leave them the hair on their heads though. They might as well look good for us if we have to keep watching them."

Bill laughed at the last part and we looked back at the other guards and the cow. They were almost finished applying the foam. I noticed though that they seemed to be taking longer than necessary when it came to the breasts and ass.
"That's enough boys. Put her in the shower," Bill said.

The guards moved the cow to a small, single person shower recessed in the wall of the room. The cow followed compliantly. She looked like a zombie at this point to me. Once she was in the shower they closed the door and turned on the water for about 10 minutes. Afterwards they pulled her out, sure enough she was now hairless below the face, and dried her off.

"A couple more things we have to do," Bill said, walking out of the room.

He returned a few minutes later with red hot brands. When she saw this, the cow started screaming and kicking again. The fear of being branded seemed to have restored her courage, if only for a time. Bill ordered the other guards to bend her over a table in the center of the room and hold her steady. They did so and Bill approached the cow and pressed the burning brand against her butt. The cow screamed and moaned. I couldn't even imagine how intense the pain was. When Bill pulled away the brands the number "479" was burnt into her otherwise flawless butt cheek.

"Whatever your name used to be doesn't matter now," Bill said. "You don't have a name anymore, you got a number. You're 479. If you ever call yourself anything but that, you'll be severely punished. You understand?"

The cow nodded weakly. She once again appeared to be broken, even more so this time.

Bill left the room again, in a few minutes returned, this time with a clear plastic chastity cage in his hand.

"The only cow that ever gets to cum is Bessy. Time to suit up," he said.

Bill handed the cage to the guards who expertly slide 479's cock into and locked the device. The cow watched this all with a confused look on with her face, but made no move to resist. When they were done, 479's cock looked not just secured, but cramped in its new cage.

"Come on now, time to take you to your new home."

I followed Bill and the other guards out of the room, the cow being walked between them.

We soon emerged into a long, wide hallway with prison cells on either side. In each cell, I there was a FutaCow, everyone of them on their hands and knees. As we walked by, I saw each one had breast pumps attached, the pumps seemed to be built into the walls of the cell, and I guessed the milk was pumped somewhere through pipes in the building. Many of the cows seemed to be moaning and grunting, and I wondered to myself why.

I also noticed that while a few guards seemed to be making rounds patrolling the hallways, many were in the cells with a cow. I saw many of the cows giving the guards blowjobs while they were being pumped. I looked around at my companions, but they didn't seem to be phased by this in the slightest. Bill caught my glance though and laughed.

"One of the perks of working here is you can get a free blowjob whenever you want."

This answer didn't satisfy me, but I decided to let it go for now. I had witnessed so much I was starting to have problems processing everything.

After a lengthy walk and several corners turned, we reached the first cell that I had seen empty. Above it was the number 479.

The guards opened the cell. "Welcome home cow," one of them said, pushing the cow in.

In the center of the cell were four iron cuffs chained to the floor. On one side there were the breast pumps I had seen in the other cells. On an the opposite there was a small mat and blanket for the cow to sleep on. In one corner was a small toilet. But in the center of the back wall was a machine. After observing it for a minute, I realized it was a mechanical dildo, a fucking machine. There were two dildo's attached, one atop the other, the top one slightly smaller than the bottom.

As I was observing the room, the guards had forced 479 on her hands and knees and shackled her to the floor. Then they hooked up the breast pumps and turned them on. It took a few minutes, but before long, 479 seemed to be lactating as much as most of the other cows I had seen. Then, the guards moved to the back of the cell and adjusted the machine to 479's height. A second later they turned it on. It began to move the dildos back and forth, penetrating the cow's ass and pussy. The cow began to moan, in both pleasure and pain, I believe. That explained the sounds of pleasure I had heard from the other cows.

"Don't worry girl," Bill said with a cruel laugh. "The machine will change speeds and rhythms throughout the day to keep things fresh for you."

With that, I followed Bill and the guards out of the room. Bill then walked me to the exit.

"Well come back here tomorrow morning and I will have one of the guys give you a full tour and issue you your gear," Bill said. "And remember, not a word of this to anyone."