It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense. Every time I think I have a handle on what’s going on, it changes. My breath comes out in haggard gasps as I do my best to hold my position.
It’s just a shoot. It’s just another shoot. Just like every other one I’ve been on. Soon, we’ll be done, and Jeffery will give me a pill. That’s all I need. One more pill.
You’ll never get clean.
Again his damned voice whispers through my mind like spiders crawling about every nook and cranny, taking up residence in every available recess they can find. I feel their long, sinewy legs scratching about in my head, making it throb even harder.
My vision blurs as she goes over to the cabinet and pulls out some items. Hooves and a tail. At least, that’s what it looks like. They weren’t kidding when they said they were going to make me look like a bull.
Kneeling as still as possible, I refuse to put up a fight as she lifts my hands and secures them inside the fake fur limbs. My fingers curl around the metal bar, using it to help keep meupright. Soon, her hands skim my back, drawing my attention once more to the alluring scent surrounding her.
It’s a familiar smell, one that I can’t completely place, but that also feels so right at the same time. As corny and cheesy as it sounds, she smells like sweet corn and freshly baked rhubarb and strawberry pie. There’s an earthy sweetness about her that envelopes my brain and allows me to rest, even if it’s just for a moment.
“I have a confession.” Her voice is soft and low, forcing me to strain to hear it. “I’ve never touched a male here. Though I should not care if you derive pleasure from it, I do worry about injuring you...” She trails off for a moment. “But then, I have heard tales from one of the Earth heifers about two large rodentia, raccoons I believe she called them, fitting into this space. But then, I’ve also heard that Earth is known for its grandiose exaggerations.”
My lips part to laugh, but the action is nearly unbearable. “Fitting two raccoons where?” With as much strength as I can muster, I turn to look at her and notice the plug in her hand as she stoops down behind my ass. “No.” I groan. “No way. No fucking way.”
Her eyes narrow as her lips turn down into a fierce frown. “You do not possess the right to tell me no. You are my bull. I have purchased you. I will do what I please to you. And right now, it’s keeping you safely on Icora and not shipped off to the prison planets. Please.” The Mistress Rancher glances back at the door before lowering her voice to a raspy, harsh whisper. “Please don’t give them any reason to take you away. I- I need you.”
If only she meant it as one lover to another, but I know it’s not true. Just like everyone else, it’s what I can do for her, and what she can get out of me. Even though she seems pleased with me sexually, it’s not enough. I’ve lived so long being a playthingto anyone with the right dollar amount, and now, she’s no different.
Squaring my shoulders, I grip my fingers around the metal in the hooves and squeeze hard. I just have to grit and bear it. Just like everything else. Maybe one day, things will go my way. Perhaps once I wake up, I can find a way out of this nightmare.
Her fingers fumble about at my back entrance, driving me to distraction. Backdoor play isn’t something that’s on my list. Even when other models talked about their coffee enemas and their little moments of anal foray, that’s not been something I’ve been interested in.
Exit only. That’s how it’s always been. Only now, as the cool metal touches my delicate skin, I find myself tingling from head to toe. Everything in me clenches again as my balls draw up so tightly they ache. A soft groan flits through my lips as I sway forward, easing away from her touch, but she’s relentless.
“Stop moving,” she hisses as she digs her nails into my ass. “You keep squirming, and I’m going to hurt you. Please. Don’t make me do this. Don’t make me hurt you.”
There’s genuine care in her voice. It washes over me, filling me from the inside out until warmth spreads over my entire body. Soon, the warmth turns to heat. As she notches the frigid tip of the plug at my entrance, it’s as if my skin sucks every bit of chill from the metal and spreads it throughout my body.
I go from blazing hot to ice cold in an instant. Shivers race down my spine, making me shiver. This time, I can’t control it. I can’t stop it. My body shakes as it tries to regulate.
“I said stop moving,” she cries out, but soon stops. Her hands run over my back as the sound of metal hitting the ground rings out in my ears. “Ethan,” she shouts. The sound is so far away. It’s as if I’m underwater. “Ethan!” It’s a bit louder this time, but it still can’t seem to fully reach me.
The ground shimmers as my vision goes crazy. Try as I might, I can’t seem to keep my eyes open. They flutter along with my rapid heart rate as sweat sluices off of my skin and onto the floor. The Mistress Rancher continues to shout, but none of her words make sense.
My insides cramp as vomit rises in my throat and spills out over my mouth and onto the ground. I can’t even remember what I ate. Or better yet, did I even eat? Is this one of those days where I skipped a meal to make my abs pop even more?
Everything that comes up tastes like bile and regret, not unlike most days. What day is it even? Monday? Friday? Do I have a shoot? Nothing makes sense. Everything feels jumbled and scrambled until I don’t even possess the energy to think.
My arms quake for a bit before giving out on me completely. As the ground races up to meet my face, I find that I can’t even muster the energy to turn away so the vomit doesn’t get on me. Thankfully, the blue goddess pushes me out of the way in time, forcing me to land on my side.
Cramps grip me hard as I twist about, my knees drawing up into my chest. I know she’s saying something. I can see her mouth move, but nothing she says makes sense.
I try to reach out, to touch the mirage with my hand, but instead, there’s a hoof. How did a hoof get there? My brain churns, desperate to do the work, but comes up with nothing. There’s disjointed images that flash through my mind, but nothing I can grab ahold of as sane.
Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I’m not sane anymore. In my line of work, it’s not unheard of for models to crack under pressure. Somehow, I never thought I’d be one of those people. I was always a hard worker, strong, honest, and diligent. For the most part, I was able to put my emotions to the side and do the job.
Most times.
Now, I seem to be wasting away like chaff on the breeze. Closing my eyes, I inhale her scent once more, using it as a tactile way to fuel my memories. It wasn’t all bad on the farm. In fact, I’d rather be there than acting like an animal for the camera.
Just one last time, I’d love to taste my mom’s baking. Hell, I’d be fine with a stove, some flour, eggs, and butter. Before Dad thrust me out, I was learning to become quite the baker. Not now. Not anymore.
I never gave much thought to dying, but that must be what’s happening. It’s the only explanation that makes rational sense. At least as much sense as my brain can muster.
They say that at the point of death, your life flashes before your eyes. Well, the only thing flashing in front of me is a set of breasts straining against a shiny, stretchy material. Even in death, I can’t seem to stop lusting after the ladies.
