My legs are shaking when I enter the Institute. The foyer is huge and air-conditioned, and my tiny skirt barely covers my butt crack, but I’m not shivering just from the cold. Today is my Assignment.
My father checks us in at the front desk. The clerk gives me an appraising look up and down as he types my information into the terminal. His lips twitch up in a slight smirk, causing my breath to catch. What is he thinking? Maybe he’s been here long enough to guess a girl’s Assignment just by looking at her. In which case, he knows more than I do right now. “They’re ready for you,” he says to my father, his eyes still on me—or rather, on my ample breasts straining the tight blouse my mother chose for me. She said it was important to accentuate my best qualities.
As my father and I walk past reception and through the sweeping foyer, my head swivels constantly, trying to take in everything. It’s my first time in the Institute. Younger girls only go to the Girl’s Center until they are of age, like I am now.
I see a group of men in suits talking near a water cooler. A glass window into a nearby office shows another professionally clad man behind a desk, typing at his computer, seeming to ignore the half naked woman dancing suggestively against a pole in the corner. An O—Office Slut. Not every worker got one, just the important men like he must be.
We reach the elevators. My father presses a button and then turns to give me a smile. I notice his eyes briefly linger on my tight shirt. “How’s it feeling?” I blush and look down at my feet, too embarrassed to answer. My mom’s borrowed heels make my bare legs look even longer than usual, which is saying something for the tallest girl in my class.
My father rests a hand on my shoulder. “It will be over soon, girl,” he says. “Once you walk out of here, you’ll be a full grown woman with a woman’s job.” I nod, still keeping my eyes down. I wish I knew what the job would be already.
The elevator doors open with a hiss. We step in and join the only other person on the lift—a completely naked woman kneeling, facing the doors, her mouth open in a gaping O. This is a P—Public Slut. I’ve seen plenty of them around so it doesn’t shock me, even when my father unzips his pants and puts his cock in the woman’s mouth. That’s what P’s are for. I wondered how it would feel to just wait around with my mouth open waiting for a man to fill it. I might find out soon.
We reach our floor too soon for my father to finish, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He pinches the P’s cheek as he zips up, and then leads me out of an elevator. A long corridor, a turn, another P near a drinking fountain, and finally we’re inside an expansive room. It looks like a hospital wing, with a long line of beds separated by curtains.
The examining doctor and assistant appear and introduce themselves, and in no time, I’m naked on one of the beds with the two of them and my father standing over me, scrutinizing my body. The assistant, a woman wearing nothing but a lab coat, is taking notes on pad. She’s an E—Executive Slut—a female permitted to assist a professional man.
The doctor and my father have been talking. I suddenly realize I’ve been tuning them out as I take in my surroundings. “She’s clearly a B,” my father is saying. “Look at those jugs!” My nipples harden a little as all three of them stare at my bare breasts.
The doctor shakes his head. “She does fit the criteria for a Bimbo Slut,” he explains patiently, “but she also has the body for a C and those are in higher demand right now.” My heart almost stops. Everyone in my family assumed I would be a B. My mother picked out today’s outfit for it. I had never once even seen a C as they were kept on farms outside the city. I had always imagined myself as a B, pretty and lithe and flexible, lounging on yachts with rich men. Not…
“She’s a Cow,” the doctor says firmly, holding up a hand to cut off my father’s objection. “B’s bring in a lot of money but they don’t keep society functioning. I’m sorry it’s not what you wanted, but that’s where the slut is needed now.”
My father sighs, then nods. My heart pounds in my chest. I can’t believe this is happening. Cows are society’s incubators. They’re the only females allowed to be impregnated, but they’re expected to carry constantly until they can’t anymore. I’m going to be bred.
“I’ll leave you to talk to her,” the doctor says. A moment later, he and the assistant are gone and it’s just me and my father. He clears his throat.
“Girl, it’s not what we were expecting, but it’s good, honest work.” I open my mouth to say something but he continues. “The hormones they give you to increase milk production will also make you more aroused. Cows are some of the happiest cunts in the world.”
I blush deeply at my father referring to me as cattle, but I nod tentatively. It’s not like I have a choice. He smirks at my expression. “That’s a good slut,” he croons, his hand dropping between my legs. I flinch a little but remember my training and spread them wider to give him access. He starts fingering my hole, eliciting a small gasp from me. “Now, what do you call this?”
I recall my anatomy lessons on Cs as I feel my pussy lips part on my father’s fingers. “It’s…” —the words are hard to say but I force them out—“…my cow cunt.” A shudder of shame runs up my spine, causing my thighs to twitch against my father’s hand.
“Good cow,” he smirks, reaching his non-occupied hand up to squeeze one of my breasts. I moan involuntarily, eliciting a chuckle from my father. “Now what are these?”
“They’re…they’re my udders,” I moan, my hips bucking up at the humiliation of naming my cow parts. My father’s smirk widens into nearly a full smile.
“That a bitch,” he says fondly. “You’ll be fine.” He withdraws both of his hands, leaving my skin tingling and my pussy dripping as evidence of his examination.
When the doctor and assistant return, the assistant notes my obvious state of arousal clinically, causing my face to flush with embarrassment. The doctor tells my father he did a good job raising a compliant female and my father looks pleased. Soon a few forms pass hands, and my father leaves, with a promise to visit me on the farm. “You better be huge by then.” He winks at me before vanishing out the door.
I lay back on the bed and sigh, my hands resting on my currently trim belly. I imagine what it will feel like to stretch and grow as a man’s seed gestates in me. My pussy—cow cunt—twitches at the idea of becoming a gravid breeding cow hooked into a milking station, my womb used over and over again in a constant cycle of fucking and swelling. I won’t have long to find out.
