Research Subject: Octavia Melody
Research Subject: Octavia Melody
Experiment: Forced Lactation
Duration: 2 Hours
Consent Form on File: N̸̨̻̜̜̞̳͓͝o̵̧̢͔͚͓͓͕̫͛̄̍ ̸̗̓͒̌̄̂̑͜ṙ̴͇̱͂́͗̀ĕ̷̼̩̲̟̆̋̔̄̋̐̇͝ͅc̸̘̼͙̳̦̐͝o̴̘̥͔͙͕̭͇͔̐͛́̔̊́͂͜͝ṛ̶̇̓́͊̌͐d̷̹̖̬̒͊̈́͊̌̋͘͝͝ ̸͔̼̾̅͒̑̿͂͜ḙ̷̛̠̲̞̭̞̤̖͂̀̈͂̂̌̅̅̊x̴̺̦͆͐̈́͒͆̎̈̐į̷̻̰̞̏̇̊̀̇̓̈́͛͋̓͜s̶͉͎͈̪̪̞͓͇̼̉͑̄t̶̺̘̘̲̘̳̙̃̐̋̀̈͐̃s̵̖̓̏͊̈́
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“Urghh,” moaned the grey earth pony as she roused from uneasy sleep. Her eyelids apparently weighed ten pounds apiece, but she forced them to open with an effort of will. To her shock and surprise, however, she was not at home in her comfortable bed. Instead, she was completely naked, and in a completely unfamiliar room with unadorned metal walls and floors. Worse, as she quickly realized, she wasn’t simply sitting in a vaguely uncomfortable metal chair; she was actually restrained to it. Cuffs on each of the chair’s arms wrapped snugly around her wrists, holding her firmly in place. “What the hay!?” she demanded, tugging at the bonds and finding them secure. Gritting her teeth, she marshaled her race’s considerable strength and pulled with all her might against the cuffs, until her muscles screamed with agony and her heart pounded in her chest. After several long minutes, she was forced to admit defeat and slumped back into her seat. “Where am I?” she called out. No response came. “You can’t just kidnap ponies! Let me go this instant!” Silence continued to reign in the room, broken only the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead. “Bollocks,” she muttered to herself. With no other recourse, she examined the room around her as best she could. To her left stood a small, metal trolley covered in a white sheet. Upon it rested a wicked-looking syringe, half-full of unidentified green fluid.
The sight sent a pang of fear racing through her; had she been injected? With what, and by who? Was it harmful? She had no way to know. Swallowing a sudden lump in her throat, she continued her inspection. Craning her head to the right, the wall beside her had a large red button conspicuously labeled “Emergency Release.” Despite its closeness, she had no hope of reaching it. Other than that, there was nothing to see. The chair she sat upon had a headrest that she leaned against, some light padding, was apparently bolted to the floor, and would be completely unremarkable if she weren’t bound to it.
What was more remarkable was the small panel that opened within the seat her butt rested on, allowing a bulbous metal head coated in rounded protrusions to slide up and rest itself against her slit. “OH!” Octavia exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise as the device nestled between her legs, and against her slit, buzzed to life with a strong vibration. “No, nonono,” she begged the empty room, shaking her head in denial. Her protest accomplished nothing, however, and pleasurable sensations soon washed over her body despite how she felt about it. Her soft folds trembled under the vibrator’s touch, and she whimpered as she fought back a louder, lewder moan. She wouldn’t give whoever was responsible for this satisfaction of hearing her give in to her base instincts.
She soon became aware of another concern, entirely outside of her initial predicament. Her breasts, normally respectably perky, seemed to be growing heavier with each passing moment. To her dismay, they soon began to hang down as if weighted, and a sensation like burning pins and needles began to spread through them, centering around her dark grey areolas.
As if in response to her discomfort, a panel on the ceiling slid open and a pair of curious devices, resembling clear, plastic cups attached to long tubes, swung down. Almost as if drawn by magnets, they honed in on her mounds, each cup completely encompassing one of her engorged tits. With dawning horror, Octavia realized what they were for and tensed; a second later, they generated a powerful vacuum and sucked her tender boobs into the cups. “Augh!” Octavia groaned, writhing futilely in her bonds. The vacuum immediately set up a pattern, sucking and releasing with mechanical rhythm. Her nipples, as trapped as she was, responded to the pressure with perfect obedience. Each instant of suction applied to them pulled on them without mercy, gradually enlarging and engorging them while stimulating them with constant pressure. Octavia threw back her head and wailed wordlessly, barely noting that her loss in the battle to not let her captors hear her give in. Was this really happening? Milked like a common animal, a piece of livestock? How was she even being milked at all; wasn’t that only something that happened to pregnant mares and recent mothers? She could only assume that the mysterious fluid she was apparently injected with was responsible.
Soon enough, the milking apparatus bore fruit. She gasped as she felt something warm and fluid leak out of her aching nipples, teased out by the constant stimulation, and she caught a brief glimpse of something white disappearing into the long tubes. “Oh, Celestia and Luna, wh-hh-hh-y?” she half-moaned, half-begged. Why would anypony do this to her? What was the point?
No alicorn princess answered her, and nor did anypony else. Instead, the toy nestled against her marehood continued to pulsate and her tender breasts continued to be milked without mercy.
Octavia closed her eyes, heart racing and breathing heavily. The worst part was, if she was honest and really peered inside of herself, a part of her actually enjoyed this. She didn’t ask for this, didn’t agree to it, had it forced upon her. But the toy nestled against her cunt felt absolutely incredible, and even the ministrations applied to her nipples were undeniably erotic. A familiar fluttery sensation began to build up in her loins and her stomach, steadily growing in intensity. Octavia moaned and gasped over and over again, shifting and sliding in her restraints as much as she could, but there was no escape. Alone, naked, helpless, and she was going to cum from it. What kind of mare was she, if she could find pleasure in a demented situation like this?
Her climax built and built, crushing her beneath the weight of its growing inevitability. Then, in the space of a single heartbeat, it happened. She shrieked, bucking wildly in the restraints as her greedy cunt clenched and released over and over again, futilely trying to milk a cock that was not currently nestled inside her. Marecum spurted from her slit, splashing against her thighs and seat, and her world blurred into incandescent fireworks as a surge of ecstasy jolted through her veins and nerves.
Octavia’s head rolled to the side, tongue lolling out of her mouth as she heaved desperate breath after desperate breath. Fire burned in her marehood, stoked and kept blazing by the incessant buzzing between her legs that refused to give her even a second to catch her breath. Her own sticky marecum coated her thighs and saturated the padding of the chair, proof of the indescribable orgasm that she’d been forced to endure. The devices assaulting her gave her no pause, however, and she whimpered as she felt another orgasm begin to build inside her. She looked longingly at the Emergency Release button, so tantalizingly close and yet so sadistically out of reach. If she could just hit it, then she could be free. She could escape this. But she couldn’t; she was trapped here and completely at the mercy of whoever was responsible for this. Her body was reduced to a mere plaything, an amusement for somepony else.
The realization struck her, then, as she accepted her predicament, that there was no guarantee that this would ever end. She shuddered at the thought that she could be trapped here forever. What else would these ponies do to her?
In the midst of her reflection, the vibrator tucked between her legs shifted position until it was pressed directly against the sensitive nub of her clit, which winked proudly from beneath its hood. Octavia’s eyes flew open as the full force of its stimulation focused on her single most sensitive part. “Eeek!” she screamed, bucking her hips wildly into the toy in an instinctive drive to drive it deep inside her.
There was no gradual build-up this time. Her orgasm rocketed towards a sudden crescendo at breathtaking speed, crashing over her without mercy. The pressure built up inside her exploded at one instant, flooding her veins with bliss that swept away every other concern, leaving her only with how incredibly amazing it felt.
As she came down from the heights of pleasure, she noticed that the vibrator had shut itself off. It still rested against her sopping-wet cunt, almost threatening the possibility that it could start again at any time. The milker, however, continued its work unabated.
Struggling to catch her breath, and freed from the distraction of being mercilessly teased to the point of climax, she struggled to focus on her boobs. With dismay, she saw that her nipples were practically unrecognizable. The pressure of the vacuum had left them engorged and stretched to four or five times their normal size, and every few seconds a hefty spurt of milk – her milk – shot out and disappeared into the tubes leading to the ceiling. Blessedly, the burning sensation within her breasts had abated, and she could almost swear that they were shrinking ever-so-slightly in size the longer she watched them.
Her head slumped back onto the headrest and she simply sat, motionless, breathing deeply. Almost against her will, her eyelids fluttered closed. To be honest, the sensation of the milking had become somewhat enjoyable. The steady rhythm filled her mind as she mentally blanked out, overcome by everything, and it followed her down into the darkness of sleep.
Octavia woke with a start, jerking awake with blinding speed. As she opened her eyes, she found herself back in the familiar environment of her bedroom, with everything just as it should be. Her drapes stood half-open, admitting a bit of soft moonlight. Her cello stood propped in the corner. No trace could be found of the ordeal she remembered all too vividly. Trembling with disbelief, she looked down and examined herself. Her engorged breasts and nipples were back to their usual selves. For all appearances, she was none the worse for wear. Even the memories were growing a bit foggy.
What should she do? Go to the Guard and report it? What proof could she give? She bit her lip in consternation. Was it even real? She could have dreamed it, she supposed. It was incredibly vivid and realistic for a dream.
Sighing, she laid back down and tried to make herself comfortable. For now, she could simply relish in her freedom. Anything else could wait for later.
Author's Note
This is pure, unabashed clop. Enjoy it for what it is 
