Moving Him to the Farm [Str8] [Bi] [MF] [MM]

*This is the first draft of a story I’ve been working on. I literally finished it five minutes ago. It’s very long and rough at the moment. I’m going to continue refining it. I just wanted to get it out there first to get a feel for feedback. Warning: covers some really taboo areas that might be too much for some people.*

Losing his job had been the final straw. It wasn’t his fault. He was good at his job and earned a respectable income. But business had slowed and the company was downsizing. He felt sure he’d find work reasonably quickly. He was well-qualified, experienced and personable. But the things weren’t what they used to be. People were living longer, thanks to modern medical advances, aging slower. That meant more people of a working age, but less available jobs due to the progressing automation of everything. And so, after nearly six months, he still found himself out of work and the family savings starting to run dry.

By this time, his wife was running out of patience. She loved her husband. He was a good man; loving, sweet and caring. He adored her and always tried to give her everything she wanted. But she had a family to think about, children to raise. If he could no longer provide for the family, then she knew what she had to do. All it took was a simple phone call. Then it was done.

She told him what was going to happen the next morning, after he returned from dropping the kids at school. He listened to her calmly and accepted her decision without argument. This was her household. His job was to love her, care for her, please her and provide for her. If she felt that this was the best way he could do that from this point forward, then it was not for him to disagree. He would do as she wished and happily, in the knowledge that this is what she wanted and this is what would please her most. So when they came to collect him, he and his wife embraced. They shared a deep, passionate kiss. He told her how much he loved her and then went willingly with the men.

That was how he found himself lying on a preparation table in a brightly lit, clean, white, sterile room, watching the attendant administering him with the general anaesthetic. He was happy with the prospect of his new role. As the months of unemployment rolled on, he haven to consider that his wife might eventually make this decision. So when she did, it came as no surprise. It made sense. His family would receive a monthly income for the duration of his stay at the facility. It was significant. Twice as much as he was making at his previous job and much more than he could have hoped to make at any of the jobs he had been applying for. His family wouldn’t be the only ones to benefit though. Thousands, perhaps even millions of people around the world would benefit.

Several years earlier, medical research made a significant breakthrough when it was discovered that stem cells were not the only source of material that could be used to perform medical marvels. An alternative source was found in the seminal fluid of human males. This new source was found to be far more potent than stem cells and far less controversial to obtain. Soon, sperm banks were being opened everywhere and all males were being encouraged to donate. But as the breakthroughs and the applications grew, no amount of promotion for volunteers could keep up with the demand for fresh material. Alternatives were sought. Other species were tested for compatibility. But nothing worked. It had to be human material.

The benefits were undeniable. Regrowing lost limbs, repairing damaged organs, slowing down aging, extending the human life by several decades. It was being hailed as a miracle cure for everything. But supplies were running dangerously low. The world was on the brink of catastrophe. Rapidly, new laws were passed. Firstly, prisons were converted into forced donation centres. It didn’t take long for an industry to grow around this new development. Machines were designed to make the process as efficient as possible, removing any aspect of sexual pleasure that the prisoners might receive. It became a process a routine. Like animals, prisoners were forcefully ‘milked’ for their fluid while they were incarcerated. But after a few short years, even that was no longer enough.

It was eventually opened up as an employment opportunity. A guy could earn a wage by working nine ‘till five at a factory, just like any other job. It was found that some drew pleasure from it and volunteered their time. The companies definitely weren’t going to refuse free ‘bulls’ as they had come to be known. Eventually, it seemed that anyone could have any male they were related to committed to a factory.

It took him a while to adjust as he awoke, groggy from the anaesthetic. He calmly assessed his new reality. Things were certainly different. He turned his head and saw his chart on the wall of the recovery room. His wife’s signature was at the bottom. Under the heading “Commitment” a single box was ticked, “Complete and permanent conversion”. He knew full well what that meant. Everybody did. You could elect from various levels of commitment. From a pleasurable afternoon where your samples were hand-drawn by a technician of your choice, all the way up to this. This was the extreme end of the spectrum. He understood why. This would provide maximum income to his wife, obviously she would have chosen this path for him. He was pleased that she would be getting the maximum benefit from this. It was the best way he could provide for her now.

He also noticed, further down the page, she had ticked another box. When prisoners were admitted, they were milked by machine and injected with chemicals that blocked the sexual stimulus of being milked from reaching the pleasure centres of the brain. Prisoners who were being milked as part of their incarceration couldn’t receive regular sexual pleasure and gratification from being milked for their seminal fluid, it wouldn’t be right. So measures were taken to ensure that they felt no sexual stimulus at all. This process was also an elective for those who volunteered themselves or who were volunteered by a family member. He always thought you’d really have to hate the guy to do that to him. He was very glad to see that his wife had selected for him to receive the “full sexual stimulant package”. He smiled in the knowledge that she still loved and cared for him.

He finally turned his attention back to his body, drawn by the pain as the painkillers were slowly wearing off. A mild pain in his throat told him that he’d undergone the vocal chord surgery. Talking was now no more than a memory for him. This step was particular important for those with non-voluntary total and permanent commitments. The yelling, screaming and other noise would be unbearable. Destruction of the vocal chords ensured a quiet and peaceful factory. He hadn’t spoken a word to anyone since he left the house. He was very happy with the knowledge that his final words ever were used to tell his wife how much he loved her. But that was only a minor part of the conversion surgery.

He looked down now at his modified body. He knew what to expect. But it was still a shock to actually see that it had been done to him. His arms and legs had been partially amputated, now ending at the elbows and knees. This served several purposes; to prevent non-voluntary donors from escaping and to reinforce the idea that their lives as humans were now at an end. Total and permanent donors were no longer seen by governments or by anybody as human beings. They were considered no more than cattle, hence the terms commonly used: bull, milking, farm. Their modified bodies served to reduce them to that level both physically and mentally. He wasn’t concerned. He accepted this, like every other part of what was happening. He gave his arms and legs a wiggle, correcting himself in his head as he did so: four legs he had now really, not two arms and two legs. He then watched a nurse approach. She paid him little attention. She checked his chart, then the readings on the various equipment around him. She pressed a few buttons. He heard an electronic beep. Then he drifted back to unconsciousness as the higher dose of anaesthesia pumped into his body.

He laid in that bed for several weeks. Most of this time he was kept unconscious. He couldn’t be placed into the farm until his arms and legs had fully healed. Eventually, that day came. A team of attendants entered his room. The intravenous drip that had kept his body nourished over the last few weeks was removed, along with all the other connections to the various medical equipment. The last of his bandages and his gown were also removed. He was laying on his back on the bed, naked, in front of half a dozen people.

One reached forward, picked him up and rolled him over. A plastic sheet was placed on the bed beneath him. He braced his four legs as he was placed down on it. He realised he could hold himself up reasonably well and he felt quite stable. Two attendants moved forward, cloths and aerosol cans held in gloved hands. They shook the cans and began to spray a foamy liquid, covering his entire body. After a few moments, they used the cloths to wipe away the foam. His body hair came away with it. They repeated the process, covering every inch of his body until not a single hair remained. Even his hair, eyebrows, eyelashes and beard were wiped away. Next they sprayed a fine mist of clear liquid from a small hose. They massaged it over his entire body. He felt a gentle tingling burn as they did so. He assumed, correctly, that the liquid was burning and destroying the hair factories in his skin. Not a single hair would ever grow again on his body.

The two attendants then each grabbed and braced one of his shoulders, but there was really no need, he wouldn’t resist. A third attendant stepped up and began covering his exposed ass with lubricant. Years of play with his wife kicked in and he instinctively relaxed his sphincter, ready to accept the intruder. The attendant responded by pushing two fingers inside his ass. The fingers slid in with no resistance, allowing plenty of lubricant to be moved inside. After weeks with no solid food, only being sustained by an IV, it had been a long time since he’d had anything solid to pass and his insides were perfectly clean. A future liquid diet would also ensure that he never had to have a bowel movement ever again. The fingers were then removed and he felt the touch of cold steel press against his now open and receptive ass. With one quick, firm movement, the metal plug was thrust inside him. He felt a pleasurable stretch as it went in, then it was seated comfortably inside him. He knew his wife must have ticked “experienced” when the form asked about his anal sex life. It was important to know. The size of the plug had to be chosen based on what the bull could handle. Too big for someone with no previous experience and it might damage the bull upon entry. Too small for someone with lots of experience and it would continually fall out. His wife had actually ticked “highly experienced” and had also elected to have him fitted with the largest sized plug the farm had. As the metal in his rectum began to warm due to his body temperature, the temperature-sensitive metal alloy began to expand. He felt the plug inside him swell, filling him, pressing firmly against his prostate. Soon it was of a size that he could never expel it. There was no way of shrinking the plug. The temperature sensitive metal had to be cooled to shrink, which could not be done now it was inside him. The metal butt plug was now permanently inserted for the rest of his life.

One of the attendants moved forward and gently but firmly held his mouth open. Another placed a small device in his mouth, fastening it behind his head. It was a ring-type gag. It wasn’t too big. Holding his mouth open at a point that was substantial but not uncomfortable. It was also made of a rubber-like material that was actually rather pleasant against the inside of his mouth and not painful or uncomfortable at all. With his tongue he could feel grooves on the inside of the ring, like something was to be screwed into it. But the attendants made no attempt to add anything else.

Again, his body was sprayed with a fine mist. A specialised suit was brought forward. The material was black and had a rubbery, latex-like appearance and texture. It was a specialised body suit. Beginning life as an extreme condition suit for military and space applications, the material eventually found a use on the farms. It allowed the body of the bull to be kept under constant watch, recording all vitals and also aided in regulating body temperature, keeping the body clean and fresh, providing electrical stimuli to muscles and overall helped to keep the bulls’ bodies in good health and condition. The particular suit he was now being fitted into was modified from the original design. The arms and legs were shortened and sealed at the ends and the suit was tailored to be skin tight, without any folds or creases, essentially a second skin. The suit had a hole for his cock and balls to fit through and a smaller hole at his ass. The attendants finished fitting him inside the suit and closed the zipper along his back. With a hiss, the join sealed closed, forming a single, seamless surface. The suit also had an attached hood. But the attendants left this off for now, he wasn’t sure why.

Two attendants moved to pick him up. One grabbed his front two legs, the other his back two. In one quick movement they placed him on all fours on the ground. A collar with a lead was fastened around his neck and one attendant began to lead him toward the double, stainless steel doors at the far end of the recovery room.

He found he was quite slow moving on his four new legs. It was hard work, but didn’t prove too difficult. The attendant moved at a steady pace, aware he thought, of how limited a new bull’s movement was. He was led through a series of empty, narrow corridors until he went through one last set of doors. It immediately became apparent to him why they hadn’t put his hood on. They wanted him to see this. The doors opened onto a clean, white, tiled hallway. It stretched on for an impossible distance. White, steel doors dotted both sides of the hallway, every twenty metres or so. The roof was lined with a series of pipes. A pipe ran down the wall every few metres to a small control box with a keyboard, screen and numerous indicator lights. From each box, a narrow hose ran out and was connected to a black, hooded head that protruded through the wall.

After a brief pause, the attendant walked him down the hallway. He had an idea what to expect. But this sight finally began to make him realise that this was it. This hallway is where he would spend the rest of his life. The heads turned in their eyeless hoods, following the sound of footsteps. He watched them as he was walked past, know that soon he would become one of them. The attendant walked him past an empty hole to an access door. After punching in a code, the door opened with a hiss. It was very different behind the door. It was still brightly lit, but much more industrial. Gone were the white and the tiles. Here raw steel was dominant. Machinery lined the walls and hung from the ceiling. A narrow walkway down the middle separated the stalls of the men from the hall he’d just walked past, from the stalls of the men on the other side, whose heads protruded into a hall identical to the one he just walked down.

He was walked back along the narrow walkway, to the empty stall he had seen. He knew this was it. Without the attendant saying a word, he knew this was his stall, his final home. The collar was unfastened and removed. The attendant standing expectantly. He stood for a moment. Taking in his stall. Absorbing the fact that this is where he would spend the rest of his life. He then slowly walked forward, placing his head through the hole in the wall to join the others. He felt the attendant move and touch him as he was connected to the equipment. A lead was fed through the hole in his suit and connected to the butt plug. Another attendant in front of him pushed a few buttons on the control panel. Immediately he felt the plug spring to life. A combination of vibrations and electrical current began to stimulate his prostate. He felt his testicles encased in a soft, warm cocoon. Again, he felt a series of vibrations and electrical current begin to stimulate his balls. The combination began working as intended and it wasn’t long before he felt his modest manhood at full attention.

The attendant in front of him bent down, liquid feeding tube in hand. They reached and grabbed the hood that hung loosely around his neck. They fed the tube through the hole in the hood. Then began pushing the end into his mouth. They pushed it through the ring gag, but didn’t then stop. He fought to stop himself from gagging as the tube reached the back of his through, thankful for all those years with his wife, training him to suppress his gag reflex. He swallowed and the tube began to snake its way down his throat until the end came to rest in his stomach. The attendant proceeded to screw the tube fitting to the gag in his mouth, sealing the passage, forcing him to breathe only through his nose. The attendant then stepped away.

This was it. It was time. Soon the attendant would put his hood on, his world would become black, never able to see again and his conversion, his transformation would be complete. He’d become another nameless, faceless head in the wall. Never moving, never seeing, never speaking, constantly milked for his seminal fluid for the rest of his life. Reduced to nothing more than cattle, livestock. No longer a human being. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for this final moment. He heard the footsteps as the attendant once again approached. Heard the movement of the hood and felt the tug of the hose as the hood was picked up from the floor. He opened his eyes, to see the world for one last time. What he saw was not what he expected.

She was there. His wife was kneeling before him, holding the hood. Her face held a warm, sweet, loving smile that spread to her eyes. He looked up at her and smiled as best he could through the gag. She placed a hand on the side of his face and bent to press her face against his cheek. She thanked him for all the wonderful years they’d had together. She thanked him for his sacrifice, told him how thankful she was to have a husband as selfless and loving and devoted. She told him she would visit every month on his scheduled visitor day. She pulled back, looking him in the eyes. She told him how very much she loved him. She leaned forward and placed a gentle, loving kiss on his forehead. Then she took the hood in both hands and pull it over his face. He felt her pull the hood tight, zipping the closure at the back of his head. He felt the join fuse permanently closed. The join between the hood and the rest of the suit also fusing. He was so thankful that she came to see him. That his last living sight was of her. He felt her distant touch on his face through the hood. Felt her once again kiss him. Then he heard her footsteps fade as she walked away.

The hole in the wall began to shrink until it was close to his neck. There was no way for him to pull his head back through. His body relaxed and he began to settle into his new, permanent home. With the excitement of his wife’s visit passing, he began to notice the sensations in his body. The plug and the ball sack had been active for some time now and we’re beginning to take an effect. The stimulation they provided was enough to make him extremely horny, but not enough to orgasm. This was to maximise fluid volume for each collection. The schedule for collection varied from bull to bull. But the mixture of hormones they were fed, plus the constant stimulation ensured they produced at maximum capacity and were milked regularly.

It didn’t seem like very long had passed at all, when he sensed movement behind him. The stall door was opened and he felt the fluid receptacle attached to the end of his throbbing penis. He felt a gentle hand trace lines down his back, then grab his ass. He felt the plug playfully pushed and moved around. He knew his wife had elected for him to have personal milkings by an attendant, rather than the automatic milking machine, but he didn’t think they were this personal. Then he the ball sack being disengaged and heard it fall to the floor. A hand grasped his cock and he felt his balls being drawn into a warm, wet mouth. This was no attendant. It was her! His wife was giving him his first milking on the farm. She was crouched behind him, gently stroking his cock as she sucked his balls. He wanted this to last forever. But he knew with the stimulation he’d already received, this encounter would be painfully short. She released him as she changed her position. She laid on her back beneath him, which was quite difficult in the cramped stall and also because of how close he was to the ground on his short legs. He felt her remove the fluid receptacle from the head of his penis. She began to massage his balls as she took the head is his cock in her mouth. She gently caressed it with her tongue as she moved her lips up and down the shaft. Several times she took him completely into her mouth, not as much of a challenge as other men might be. After several minutes she knew he was ready to burst. Not wanting to face the consequences of wasting a deposit, she deepthroated his cock one last time before replacing the fluid receptacle. She then took his balls back in her mouth and resumed stroking his shaft while she sucked.

In a matter of moments, his hips bucked, he tensed and she felt his balls contract as he came. He was overwhelmed with pleasure. This was the most intense orgasm he had ever felt. Wave after wave washed over him. The stimulation systems worked. Coupled with the assistance from his wife, his fluid completely filled the receptacle. There was an electronic beep and the fluid was drawn away down the hose to be processed. His wife finally released his cock and balls. She replaced the ball sack, gave him a playful slap on his ass and closed the stall door. Moment later she was in the hallway in front of him. She gave him a kiss and told him she would be back to see him next visiting day, in one month. He listened as her heard her footsteps fade down the hallway.

Time passed steadily. His regular milkings were quite the same as the one his wife did. He did get personal milkings by an attendant, as opposed to the automatic milking machine like others received. It wasn’t exactly a loving experience. But it was still sexually satisfying. They used a device similar to a magic wand to stimulate his cock until his fluid was deposited in the receptacle. He looked forward to his wife’s monthly visits. She would always kiss him and sit and talk to him. She told him how her life was going. How the kids were. Eventually she started telling him about the guys she would meet and fuck. He was jealous at first. But she told him that he was in here, receiving constant sexual pleasure from his milkings. It was only fair that she could seek her own sexual gratification. He couldn’t argue with that. She swore she’d never get into a serious relationship. After all, she still loved him and they were still married. But she had her needs and so maintained a string of fuck buddies that kept her well looked after. Gradually he grew to enjoy the idea and looked forward to hearing about her sexual adventures. Sometimes, when there guards were on break, she would disconnect his feeding tube from his gag, slip down her pants and have him lick her. Occasionally he would find a surprise waiting for him. The cum of a guy she had just fucked on her way to see him, which he would eagerly lick from her sore and swollen pussy. Afterward she would go back and personally milk him. Those were the best milkings. She was always creative and tried to make it as much of an experience for him as possible.

Of course, like most things there was a side to the farm that the public did not know about. Certain guards would disconnect his feeding tube and take advantage of the fact that his gag ensured his mouth was always open and willing. The first time he felt a cock being shoved into his open mouth he was shocked. He wasn’t expecting this. He didn’t know what to do. But there was nothing he could do. He could no longer see. So he didn’t know which guards were the ones doing it and which ones would help. In any case, he no longer had any vocal chords, how could he tell anybody anyway? But in the end it didn’t really matter to him. His wife had long ago taught him to appreciate the art of sucking a good cock, he had enjoyed it and been quite good at it. And while the permanent gag prevented him from doing any actual sucking, he was content in simply being a warm, wet hole in the wall for them to use.

But much of his time was spent in silence, alone. With nothing but the constant stimulation from the plug and the ball sack to occupy his mind. He thought about his family. He thought about his old life. He thought about this life and wondered how long it would last. He was a good milker. His wife used to playfully tease him about the size of his cock. But in this life, the size of his cock had no bearing on his sexual prowess. His cock was constantly throbbing and aching. Constantly hard and begging to be milked. He produced copious amounts of fluid and had to be milked on a rigorous schedule to prevent significant pain in his balls due to the buildup of fluid. He knew though, that eventually he’d run dry. It was a side effect of the drugs and hormones; high volume, but for a limited time. He knew that after twenty, twenty five years of being milked that his production would slow and eventually stop and no amount of drugs or hormones would prevent that. At that time, he would be disconnected from the system. The first thing that would happen is that he’d be castrated. His balls would be in such a state, after years of milking and drugs and hormones, that they’d be a health risk to leave them attached. So after all those years, he would lose his balls. The complete and permanent conversion process was just that, permanent. There was no way to reintegrate him into society as a human being. He’d lost his vocal chords, his arms and legs and been removed. His hood and suit were permanently attached and his butt plug could never be removed. That alone meant he had to live on a liquid diet as he’d never be able to have a bowel movement.

What happened to retired, permanent donors varied. Those with nowhere to go got put “out to pasture”. A special area of the facility where they could walk freely, go out in the sun, have visitors at any time and try to enjoy the rest of their lives as much as they could in their modified state. A lucky few were able to return home to live the rest of their life as a sort of household pet. While some faced a darker future. Trying to minimise the cost of caring for retired donors that were no longer providing anything valuable for the farm, many farms and started shady practices, making business deals with places like brothels, strip clubs and sex shops. He had heard rumours of places with low budget setups similar to the farm. Walls with rows of nameless and faceless warm, wet holes that could be used for a price…

Personally, he wanted to go back home when he was finished. The money his wife would have received over his twenty something year stay would mean there was plenty of money for her to live comfortably and to adequately care for him as her pet for many, many years. The extended life of humans thanks to the advanced his seminal fluid would provide would mean they would still get to enjoy many long years together afterward. He knew life back home would never be the same again. But still, it would be nice. He held onto that thought as he once again felt the vibrations on his cock as the attendant began to milk the bull.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/5cqe56/moving_him_to_the_farm_str8_bi_mf_mm