Milked

I knew this was wrong. I couldn't get through the thick fog though. All I could hear for sure was the whirring of the machine attached to my large udders- I mean breast. I didn't even want a job on a farm. I didn't want to work hard for a living. They said the job was easy, but since when is a farm job easy? It was said that they needed much of my time, with no time for a social life. As if gaming online wasn't enough of a social life. I've made it fine coasting through life. What was wrong with that? *buzzer* Ooooh. Here we go again! The machines would pick up pace for about 3 hours in the morning afternoon & evening before bedtime. What sucked the most beside these machines was the pay. A bottle of our own milk. It keeps the mind foggy, but so addictive. I begin to moan among the others trapped here with me, as the machine forces me to be aroused by it's suction. Our conjoined moans mimicking mooing sounds of cows... This was one job that could be milked for all it's worth.