What Love Breeds

Chapter 3

Essie doesn't know how long it's been since she came to Shaw Farms. All she knows, is she wants to be good. She eats what she's supposed to, even when it's a new texture. She's never eaten something so grass-like, of course. And while it tastes sweet and yummy, there's always a fine pink powder overtop it that she sniffs at. Essie gets used to it quickly, though, as she eats six times a day. All this food must be why her thighs have been squishier than ever, and her breasts no longer fit in the palms of her hands. A part of her wants to say it's uncomfortable and she could use more support than the paper thin outfits they give her, but another, louder part is enjoying filling out her frame for the first time. Something in the back of Essie's mind remembers that thought as if it were an echo, as if she'd heard it before from some soft whisper in her dreams, but Essie doesn't have the patience to follow that loose thread.

In fact, Essie doesn't have patience for many thoughts at all anymore. Her mind has become more simple, more pleasure-oriented. She follows Tommy's orders, she listens to the voice when she trains and sleeps, she follows all commands to the best of her abilities, all for the satisfied rush that comes with obedience. She works diligently to feel that euphoria, right up to her breaking point. There always comes a time at the end of the day, right before Tommy leads her back to bed, when she's prompted to accept her new life completely. There's a sound she must make, a sound she can't make before she flushes red and remembers that this isn't her life. It can't be, because she's all wrong. This isn't who she's supposed to be, she remembers, and that feeling only becomes more painful as she sees the disappointment and frustration on Tommy's face. He tries to hide it, Essie knows, but Tommy's too honest. He says he's trying to help her and Essie believes him. But she's protecting herself. From what, she doesn't know. But Tommy doesn't stop trying.

Essie is sitting on the floor of her room, wolfing down her breakfast when Tommy buzzes himself inside. She looks up at him with a wide, empty smile, pleased to see her handler. He greets her by ruffling her hair and giving her a tap under the chin, and she wiggles with excitement. She's grown to look forward to Tommy's visits, to working with him and the way he makes her feel. As long as she's a good girl, she stays happy.

Today, though, there are three people who follow Tommy inside. Essie scoots away from them, clutching her breakfast close to her person. Tommy whoas, and lowers himself to Essie's level.

"Hey girl, it's alright. These are friends," he says gently. "They're gonna watch me give you your shots, and you're gonna behave." Essie hears his command, and she's nodding before Tommy finishes his sentence. She knows what shots mean. She puts herself on all fours and pulls her paper shorts down to her knees, exposing her ass at just the right angle. Essie winces only slightly as she takes her first and second injections. She's gotten used to her new routine.

Tommy stands and talks to the three behind him. Two are men, one a woman. They wear pink scrubs, but look less sure of themselves than other nurses Essie's seen. As Essie rights her shorts and continues to eat, she barely processes their conversation.

"Based on size and shape," Tommy asks, "how long do you think Essie May's been with us?"

The woman juts her pen into the air. "Compared to her starting measurements, she's gained quite a bit of weight in her chest and her rear. I would say she's about eighty percent of the way to her goal, putting her at roughly a week and a half."

Tommy nods. "Good, good justifications, Holiday. But like I said, EMT299 is our challenge right now, the special project Mr. Shaw is hard at work on. Given how much effort is being spent on EMT, how would you adjust your estimate?"

One of the men shoves himself in front of Holiday. "At most, I would say two and a half weeks, sir."

Tommy narrows his eyes, but elects to gloss over the man's behavior. "Close, Gardner. Essie's been in our program for three weeks as of today. Holiday had the right idea, though. If Essie was a standard admittance, she would've been moved to her own pen at the two-week mark, and she's rapidly approaching her correct size and level of obedience. In that case, who can tell me what tools have been implemented to alter Essie, and at approximately what measurements?"