It was 7 am in the morning, and I flipped the light switches on in large, long hallway of Unit 788, section B. Electricity buzzed audibly through large, industrial lamps, illuminating the endless rows of restrained, naked women. Each of them were shackled standing on three horizontal bars behind them, leaving their necks, waists, hands and feet tied snuggly without mercy. And for good reason, I thought to myself, tired of their antics.

The air was humid of body heat and sweat, and the rows of women whined and grunted weakly in their large leather muzzles. The drugs were kicking in. Sweaty, writhing bodies struggled in heat, as their swelling breasts trickled small streams of milk, all the way on their sensitive bodies to their equally leaking slits. Lactation drugs required strict 48 hour period of no-touch, and I knew from experience 99 % of these weak willed milk cows couldn't help but to pinch their filled breasts and nipples, and rub their hot and bothered cunts. Hence the restraints.

I moved from woman to woman, lightly pressing their breasts together and eliciting scolding, whining and positive stream of milk. The judging look was wasted on me. Perhaps ten years ago I would've been repulsed. Now I know each of the women here were paid well in exchange of their few year periods as Hucows. And the mixture of good PR, advertisement, lobbying and other tools of media made sure most of the population knew no better.

"Boss." I heard Mike calling me on fourth row.

"Yeah? Something wrong with #45?" I asked, seeing petite Pakistani girl pressing her hips towards Mike's fingers that never got any further to her.

"No, not that. Sanna Kingston is waiting for you, and...."

I stopped testing the milk flow of particularly busty latino in front of me, and jogged to Mike. "What? She was supposed to do her stupid documentary next week earliest, and..."

"I know. But channel Eight cut some deal with the top brass. I mean, they wanted full tour for her - not some PR version. She herself requested one."

"Smart girl." I scoffed, wondering how the ace reporter would react to reality of hucow facilities.

Mike shrugged his shoulders. "So they assigned her to section B. Congratulations, boss." He said with hint of irony.

"Thanks. Congratulations on extra shift sorting these Milkers, Mike." I said, tossing my hand towards him and racing to the office. If Sanna wanted full tour, she would get it. But only on my terms - the top brass wouldn't mind, would it?

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TL;DR Hucows, women with drug induced lactation and near loss of human rights (top secret) are legal business. If a secretive one. And one star reporter has pushed herself to make story of the century. Surely, she will agree on rules of the land and hands on demonstrations for her Pulitzer prize?

I'm looking for submissive leaning female partner that enjoys literate, long term role plays built around dehumanization, modern enslavement technology, livestock depiction of women, pet play, restraints, control of quite everything from food, outfits and orgasms and much more.

IF you happen to enjoy the idea, but prefer Puppy girls, Pony girls or other forms of dehumanizing roles, I am open for those as well.

Please tell me your limits, kinks, character's details at least and possible concerns and questions. You are free to continue the RP too in ways you'd want, of course. Happy to shape and discuss this further with you, as well as change roles/setting etc.