I’m strapped to the bed in the ER, waiting to be transferred to the ward. Doctors come in and out, a few talking amongst themselves as they ignore my screaming and kicking. I’m injected with a sedative and everything goes black.

I wake up, still sluggish and see a woman doctor standing over me. I’m out of the ER and in a single white room. She tells me that my vitals were taken while I was asleep and after checking prior hospital records, see that I have no friends or family who are likely to look for me. Based on her findings, she says I’m the perfect candidate for a forced lactation experiment she’s conducting, and I can forget leaving this hidden hospital wing ever again.

I’m kept under various levels of sedation, so often that I can hardly speak. Most of the time, I’m rendered numb, made accessible to every doctor that works over my body. I’m not allowed a gown, kept nude in a climate-controlled environment. I’m kept alive via IV and water slipped down my throat. In between daily vitals (stethed, urine samples, etc.), I’m given various injections to my breasts and nipples.

Eventually, I produce small streams of milk. My breasts haven’t gotten any larger, but I feel them sagging significantly- the weight shifting toward my areolae and nipples. My treatment escalates with electrical stimulation to my breasts to test its effects. I’m hooked up to a dual breast pump for hours at a time.

The female doctor leads me to another room, where a steel goat milker is set up on a frame. I’m strapped to the frame, with the tubes just under my hanging breasts. She runs her fingers through my hair, attaching small electrodes at set points, securing them with a stick substance. A few are placed across my forehead. She tells me to close my eyes and simply listen to her voice. She says my brain is probably soft enough for this session to go quickly. She tells me I no longer have breasts or nipples, I have udders and teats and that’s all I’ll be described as such. She starts the suction and places the teat cups on my nipples. The suction hurts, but the rhythmic pulling eventually feels pleasurable. The doctor’s voice over the noise of the EEG machine implants itself deep in my brain. When I’m finally disengaged from the milking machine and restrained to the bed in my room, I take notice of my dark, very extended teats.

I’m brought into the milking room again the next day, only this time, there are a handful of doctors there and they are all focusing on me. I’m locked into the machine again, a muddy sense of happiness coursing through my body as my let down begins. The female doctor gives her final report, declaring this experiment a success.  After a few minutes, I’m removed from the machine and placed on all fours on the floor. Different hands milk my udders, pulling them down, my teats grazing the floor. The female doctor comes down to take a quick measurement of my chest. She takes a minute to roll my wet, milky teats between her fingers.