A young womans desire if fulfilled just not like she thought
This is a multi chapter story about a young womans journey. She has a desire to lactate and learns what that can really mean. I personally have a fetish and desire to do the same so writing this helped me figure out the motivation. This first chapter is kind of a set up and the following ones get more intense and a little darker.
I sat outside the office with the internet ad in my hand. I was thinking about how I found myself here today and what would happen next. The ad read “ Looking for lactating women or those that want to lactate. Good pay and flexible hours.” I had found the ad while searching for information about lactation. First off I am not married and I don't have kids, but I have this burning desire to have my breasts filled with milk and then emptied.
I'm 24 and fresh out of college. My breasts have always been too big for my body. At the moment they measured 34EE. I am 5' 2” and weigh barely 100lbs. Guys make comments all the time about them. It's rare that someone looks me in the eye while talking to me. I try to dress conservatively most of the time. I think that's maybe why I haven't found a job yet. I think employers think my boobs will be a distraction in the workplace.
I had filled out an online application for this job. They called me and asked me to come in for an interview. I was nervous and hoped it would be something like donating milk for babies or something like that. There were other women in the outer office. We all made nervous smiles at each other while waiting. I was looking at a magazine not really paying attention to it when my name was called. I looked up and a nice older woman was holding the door open for me to enter the inner office. I was led back to an office and took a seat. The lady was the interviewer and sat at her desk across from me.
She re-read my application and then started asking me questions. There were some medical questions then some personal ones. Was I in a relationship? Was I sexually active? I answered them all honestly. My answers seemed to please her and then she started to explain what they were looking for.
The women they were looking for must have a true desire to lactate and to give up their milk. This would be a long term commitment and would pay very well. She said of all the women they were going to interview fewer then 1% would end up qualifying. Even then some would not have the dedication to go through with it. I would have to have a breast exam and after passing that I would enter a program to induce lactation. Just like having a baby it would take about 9 months. Even if my milk came in that didn't assure success. It would have to be tested for quality, volume, texture and taste. They were looking for something very specific and there was no guarantee that my milk would meet all criteria.
I was listening to her when I thought to myself, my milk. I was going to produce milk. I really didn't care what it was going to be used for now I just wanted the chance to do it. After going over all the legal stuff I agreed to it and signed a mountain of contracts. There was something in there about them being the sole owners of any milk I produced and I was giving them the right to use any method they saw fit to extract it and sell it if they chose too. I just signed away.
A lady dressed in scrubs came in and led me down the hall to an examining room. I was told to undress and was given a gown. A male doctor came in and introduced himself. He was the head of the research department and said I must be special if I made it this far. I smiled and he said he was going to give me a routine breast exam. I removed my gown exposing my large breasts. He poked and prodded them all the while dictating notes about them to the nurse. He squeezed and kneaded them feeling the internal structure. My nipples were pulled and released to see how elastic they were. My areolas were measured and of course lots of pictures were taken. He said “very good” several times and once said the word “perfect”. Finally he smiled while holding one in each hand and told me I was going to do fine.
I was given a mammography to check for issues and some blood was drawn. I was given a shot and some pills and told to report back here in the morning. I went home wondering what the next 9 months would be like. I tried to relax but couldn't. The shot they gave me had caused a warmth to spread across my breasts. I hoped that this was normal. I took my pills and went to sleep. I woke up early and headed into my new office. As I walked to the building with all the other commuters I wondered if any of them could guess what my new job was. I smiled to myself. They kept us pretty busy the first day. There were more exams, and classroom seminars. I was actually feeling very pampered. I got a massage that afternoon and lots of attention was applied to my breasts. Special oils were used and I was very relaxed and a little turned on by it. Before I knew it the day was over and I headed home.
This routine or something similar continued for the next 3 months. I did notice 2 things. There were fewer and fewer women left in the program and it seemed like my breasts were given more and more attention and priority and not so much me the person. It was like they would talk about my breasts or to my breasts as if I wasn't even in the room. I could tell they were getting bigger and heavier. My nipples were hard all the time and getting darker. One day I was told by the director that I was going to be transferred to a different clinic that was more advanced. It would be easier if I just lived there then commute. I gave a slight protest but was reminded about clauses in my contract. I rode in a limo to the new place and noticed it was in the middle of the restaurant/entertainment district. There were lots of very expensive places here. The new place was nice and I noticed that there were only a couple of other program participants there. We must be the 1%. I couldn't wait until my milk came in because that would be the final test.
I was told that my breasts were very special. The program they had been put on was working perfectly. Their progress was accelerated and if everything went right I should be producing milk soon. There was still nothing said about what it would be used for. This was costing someone a lot of money. Surely there was some other use other then feeding babies. Maybe some health research project.
One day I was led to a new room. It was very clinical looking and there was a table in the middle of it. I was in a robe and was asked to take it off and lay on the table face down. I did as told and there was a open area for my face like a massage table. My now huge breasts were underneath me getting squashed. They were like 34JJ. Panels were removed underneath and my breasts dropped into two openings that seemed made for them. I could feel the weight of them pulling them down, swaying slightly. My arms were extended to each side of the table. An IV was inserted in one and both were strapped down. I was covered with a blanket and told to relax.
The lights were dimmed slightly and I could hear voices. It sounded like the director talking to a group of people. He was explaining today's procedure to them and they seemed very interested. I recognized some foreign speech, French I think. It was obvious they were looking at a monitor which gave them a view of my breasts as the hung beneath the table. That's what their interest was, my boobs, not me. My huge breasts had been feeling different as of late. Very heavy and full. My nipples were dark and long. If you saw them hanging there like that you might have thought cow udder at first. They were shaped just like one. I heard the words, “Start the procedure”. Something rose up from the floor and a cylinder of some kind clamped down around my right breast. The same thing happened to the left one. The seal was very tight and they filled with a warm liquid. The machine went through some kind of cycle. There was suction then release. Hydrolic movement massaging me. Then it felt like rolling pins were being used up and down. All the while the director was explaining things to the guests in a clinical way that I didn't understand. He spoke French to them on occasion.
I wasn't sure how long I had been on the table, maybe an hour or so. Suddenly the machine works stopped. The cylinders drained and detached themselves from my breasts. I felt hands drying off my breast with a warm towel. I was glad the manipulation was over and I noticed my breasts felt really funny. A new machine was wheeled next to the table I was on. Switches were turned on and I heard what sounded like a pump turn on. A warm hand grasped my right breast. My nipple was very hard and long and it felt like it was being aimed into something. Suddenly strong suction grabbed it and pulled it into something. Whatever it was, it stayed stuck to my breast, pulling hard on my nipple. The same thing was repeated to the left one. Another switch was flipped and I felt a suction cycle start. I then knew what I was hooked up to. It was a milking machine. They were milking my breasts. Was I really ready to start producing finally?
A few minutes went by and I don't think any milk was coming out. The director suggested something. I felt some headphones being placed over my ears. It blocked out all outside sound. I started to hear something very faint. It got a little louder. I could tell it was the sounds of a baby. It was crying slightly. My first thought was that baby is hungry. I have no idea why I thought that, I just knew. The cries and whines were becoming more insistent. That's when I felt it. A warmth was spreading from the inside of my breasts. It was moving down toward my nipples. The sounds of the hungry baby and the suction on my nipples was causing this. I remembered from class a term called let-down. It was almost like I could feel the milk moving down to the tip of my nipples. I suddenly felt something. It was like a release. With each pull of the machine pressure in my breasts was being relieved. I heard some sounds from the gallery and then a few claps. I guess they got what they came to see, my breasts producing milk.
The director explained they were only going to extract enough to test. He reminded them all of the requirements of the milk. It was almost like they were talking about fine wine instead of my milk. The machine worked on me for about 10 minutes and then was removed. I was kind of sad to see it go. My breasts had not been emptied but felt better. I was unhooked from everything and given my robe. As I put I on I noticed my nipples. I could not believe how long they were. Very pointy and at least 2 inches long. Right now they really looked like a cows teat. I was led to another room and they were examined. Lots of smiles all around. A special cream was massaged into them. I went to my room and had dinner.
A couple of hours later there was a knock at my door and the director came in to talk to me. He asked me how I felt and if today's procedures were comfortable for me. I told him once the pumping started I liked that much better. It had felt great to get some relief from the fullness in my breasts. He smiled at that. He said that even though it was very early the tests on my milk were better then any other they had seen. Of course more would have to be tested over time to make sure, but the preliminary texture and taste was exactly what the end user was looking for. The only question really now was if I could produce the volume required. I was still very curious as to the end use and asked him that. He smiled and said if I passed the volume test then all would be revealed to me. The important thing was to understand how valuable and expensive my milk could become. They were already planning multiple uses for it. It still felt like he was talking about wine.
I was put on a special diet. Anything I ate could apparently effect the taste and texture of my milk. The buyers had very specific needs in that. Later if they needed something different then I would change my diet. I continued to get an occasional shot and took an array of pills everyday. It was explained to me that in order for me to produce the volume requirements I needed to be milked frequently. The more I was milked the more I would produce. My breast felt full all the time so I didn't know if I could produce anymore. I was put on a schedule. Every four hours I was hooked up to a machine and my milk was extracted. I didn't have to go to the big arena room anymore. If it was at night an attendant would come in my room and hook me up on a rolling table designed to let my breasts hang down while they were drained. I got so used to it I would just fall back asleep until it was finished. My breasts were huge and I wondered if their new shape was permanent. They were conical shaped with long dark nipples.
This draining routine went on for about a month. I had no idea of how much milk I was producing but I knew it was a lot. I was reading in my room one evening when the director and another gentleman came to my room. I didn't recognize the new guy but he looked European. The director told me out of all the women they had interviewed, tested and put on the program I was the only one to pass all the criteria. Some had come close but had failed in some requirement. He told me I should be very proud of myself. I smiled back at him and then asked what was in store for me. The two men looked at each other and smiled. The director told me my volume had met the preliminary requirement. I was producing 2 gallons a day. My jaw almost hit the floor. I knew it was a lot but not that much. He said that even with my increase in production the other factors had not diminished. The texture was perfect and the taste had only gotten better. A tray had been brought in and there were 3 glasses on each containing a few ounces of my milk. He handed me one and asked if I was curious about what I tasted like. I held it looking at it and I knew I had to try it. They had picked up their glasses and I said “cheers” and we all down the contents. It was very sweet and had a creamy texture. The two men smiled at each other and set their glasses down.
The director leaned forward and said that everything was ready to enter the final phase. He introduced the other gentleman as Mr. Marcel Lecoque. He explained that this gentleman was the main investor in this project. The clinic had been given the task to find a woman who could produce the highest quality breast milk possible for use in a very exclusive French restaurant. All dishes requiring milk or cream would be made with her milk. In French cooking that's almost all of them. All desserts would come from her and any of course the cream for the coffee as well. This would be the most exclusive and expensive restaurant in the city if not the world. The woman chosen would be key to it's success and longevity. She would be anonymous to the patrons but they would know her contribution to their dining experience.
I sat there stunned. A French restaurant? That's what my milk is going to be used for? Before I could say anything the French guy in broken English told me how much they were going to pay me. It was a staggering amount. How could I turn that down. Could I do this? Could I have a normal life if I was going to have to produce a high volume of breast milk day after day? Suddenly the French guy stood up and extended his hand to me. I took it and shook it sealing the deal I guess. He left the room and the director smiled once again. He told me I had made the right choice. I was very valuable. He said unfortunately my time here was over. My new employers had made arrangements for me. I was going to live in an apartment above the restaurant which had not opened yet. I would have a staff to assist me and all my needs would be met. The director got up to say goodbye. He admitted to tasting some of the dishes they were planning to serve and said it was like a piece of heaven. Before he left the room I asked him if he thought my breasts would get back to normal when I stopped lactating. He cocked his head to one side with a curious look. He said for me not to plan on stopping lactation anytime soon. My contract I signed with the restaurant was a 10 yr contract with an extension clause if I was still producing to their requirements for another 10 yrs.
My new life started the next day. My apartment was nice and comfortable. I had a new wardrobe of very expensive clothing. My assistant and her staff were very kind. I thought this isn't that difficult. Then I learned this was the restaurant business. My assistant said it was time. I asked for what? She smiled and said time for you to produce. She led me to a room downstairs. There was a table there similar to the one at the clinic but not as nice. I took my top off and leaned forward. This was more like a bench. I was kneeling and leaning forward. My breasts were full and hung to each side and down. Someone came in the room and strapped me down so I couldn't get up. I could see him moving around and he was dressed as a chef. He opened a closet and I saw the workings of a milking machine. He flipped switches and it came to life. He wasn't rough but he wasn't gentle either. He attached the silver suction tubes to my nipples and once satisfied they were working he turned the pump on. I immediately felt my milk start to flow. He checked everything again then left. I could see my milk traveling up the tubes into the machine. I wasn't sure were it was being collected but I figure they would use it immediately for freshness. I tried to relax but it was a little uncomfortable. I heard someone say that the grand opening was tomorrow night. They pumped me four times the first day. I didn't hear any complaints so I guess I did well.
The next morning my assistant brought me breakfast. I thanked her and asked if my milk was used to make it. She smiled and said of course. It was delicious and I knew this restaurant was going to be a hit. I was on my third milking cycle in the same little room. I really didn't have much privacy. I could clearly see out into the kitchen. Things were at a hectic pace and I knew that it was time to open. There were all kinds of wonderful smells. The patrons were getting the experience of their lives. It was so exclusive that there was a six month wait for reservations. I overheard someone say that a nine course meal there was $10,000.
I hoped that they had enough of my milk for the evening because I was drained. My back hurt and I went up to my room to relax. I would have to do one more cycle later for tomorrows early needs. I took a nap and was woken up by my assistant. It was almost mid nite and I figure it was time for the next cycle. I followed her down to the kitchen area to my milking room, but she led me past it into an office. The owner, Marcel, was in there. He wanted her to translate what he wanted to say which she did. He explained that his concept of this restraint was a hit. Some of the richest and most powerful people in the world had dined there tonight. My milk was perfect, much more then he expected. I stood there listening wondering where this was going. He said that an unexpected request had come from one of the exclusive guests. It was a Saudi Prince. The Prince had fallen in love with the whole concept and especially the taste of the dishes. He wanted to experience the essence of my milk right from the source. She translated that last bit of news and I began to understand. I started to protest and the owner reminded me of the contract. My milk was their property and the method of getting it out was up to them. I had no say in the matter. He told me not to worry. This request had been anticipated. They had built a special room for this purpose and my identity would not be compromised. The room had a long table in it where guests would be seated around it. Above the table was a lowered part of the ceiling. All I had to do was to go through a secret passageway and climb down into that lowered ceiling. I would lie flat on my stomach and lower my breasts through two openings. They would remain hidden behind a curtain until being revealed at a certain point in the meal. Any milk need to prepare the dishes served would come directly from them. The milk would be hand expressed by the chef or even if the Prince wanted some in his coffee for instance he could get some himself.
I was kind of in a state of shock as this was being explained to me. My assistant hurried me out of the office and down a dark hall. I climbed some steps and opened a small hatch. There was very little light but my eyes adjusted. I saw the lowered ceiling. There was a padded bottom and a couple of pillows. I saw the two openings in the bottom. My assistant hurried me to take my top off. My breasts had filled up again and felt hot. I climbed down to get in position. I leaned forward and lowered my huge udders into the openings. I could feel cool air from the room below on my breasts. My nipples got very hard. I heard some noise below as the dinner party was escorted into the room. My breasts were still covered by the curtain. There was an air of excitement and anticipation. The owner himself was explaining to his guests the menu. The Saudi Prince stopped him and asked to make sure that all the dishes tonight would be prepared with the sweet milk of his “cow” directly from the breast. Everyone chuckled when he said cow. He was right, that's what I was. The owner reassured him that yes he was going to experience a once in a lifetime dining event. With that the owner pulled on the curtain revealing to all below me my huge milk laden breasts hanging down over the table. I heard a sharp intake of breath below. This had to be a sight they had never seen before. Not only were my breasts huge but to have them isolated like that about a foot off the table had to be a shock to the guests.
The owner smiled at his guests reaction. He reached out and took one of my breasts in his hands. He lifted it up showing everyone the weight of it. He smiled and said that these were the best investment he had ever made in his life. He let go of my breast and it fell and undulated. Everyone below clapped. The chef was introduced. I had no idea what he was serving but I guess the first course required milk. I am not sure if it was the chef or his assistant but I felt an experienced hand on my right breast. The hand worked my breast down to my nipple and I felt my milk stream out. He was working it just like you milk a cow or goat and there were more claps and discussion from below. I guess he got enough for course one because he let go of me. I could hear utensils and pots and pans. I guess I was still dripping because some one reached up and dabbed my nipple with a napkin. Course one was served because I heard what sounded like eating and of course compliments to the chef.
So the evening progressed like that. Me laying down above a table with only my breasts exposed. Whenever milk was need for a dish I produced it. Whoever was milking me was getting quite good at getting a large volume to squirt out. It was very different then having a machine do it. I like this method a lot more. I guess the next dish required a lot of milk to prepare since I felt two hands one on each nipple squeezing me and I actually heard my milk forceably hit the bowl below. I think the chef was in hurry because the hands were working quickly. I heard someone say faster and the hands sped up. My milk was hitting the bowl like a machine gun. Everyone was clapping in time to it. Finally I guess he had what he needed and stopped. I felt a slight pat of his hand on the side of my breast like he was thanking me for coming through.
The last course was dessert and I was sure it was crepes. There had been a lot of my fresh milk used this night. I hope I wasn't going to run out. I guess the guests had gotten used to the sight of my big boobs hanging over their dinner table. There was conversation going on in different languages. The crepes were finished but before they were served each plate was raised up to one of my breasts and some fresh sweet milk was squirted on them. As the guests partook of this unique dessert the owner came back into the room. There was clapping and cheers all around for a spectacular night. Finally coffee was served. Each guest was asked if they wanted milk in their coffee. Of course everyone did. Instead of the chef or an assistant getting some from me each guest was offered by the owner to get their milk directly from the source, me, by themselves. There were jokes made about milking a goat as a youth, but I felt the first nervous guest reach out and touch me. He pulled on my nipple a few times but nothing was happening. There was a little chuckling and a suggestion was made. He readjusted his approach and a stream squirted from me into his cup. This was repeated and I estimated that there were 12 guests.
Finally the night was winding down. The Saudi Prince thanked the owner and said he would reward him for the perfect meal. Then he asked something that made my heart stop. He asked the owner how much it would cost to buy his cow. He was dead serious. The owner laughed and patted one of my hanging boobs saying it was not for sale. I knew everything had a price but surely he wouldn't sell me. There was silence and then the Prince said that he understood and that someday he would eventually have me. He then asked the owner a special favor. He wanted to know how much he would charge to let the Prince drink some of my milk directly from the source. I knew the owner was a business man and he would see an opportunity here. He said, one minute for $50,000. I was shocked and thought no way. The Prince didn't hesitate and agreed. I thought to myself that my nipples are about to be sucked on and I better have enough milk. I felt gentle smooth hands lift my breast into position. Warm lips wrapped around my nipple. I felt an insisted tongue moving and drawing my milk into the waiting mouth. It felt really good and I was enjoying it. I was having no problem with milk volume and I was proud of myself. Soon the minute was up and the mouth withdrew. A little kiss was placed on my breast. I thought well now that's done I can relax. I heard the Prince's voice again and he asked the owner if he could pay for everyone in his dinner party to get some of my milk directly from the source. Of course the owner agreed and I smiled to myself as to what a greedy bastard he was. Each of the guests took their turn at my breast. The owner made sure they had their fill, letting the suckling go on longer then a minute. Finally dinner was over. I had no idea what time it was but I had to be laying there for over two hours. My assistant came up to help me. It was a little difficult to get out of the ceiling box, but I admit it was kind of fun. I got dressed up there and made my way down to the owners office. As soon as he saw me he hugged me and even though my breasts were sore from tonight I hugged him back. He told me to go get some rest and that we would talk in the morning.
I woke up feeling pretty good. I was a little sore as I made my way down to his office. He smiled at me and offered me french coffee. My assistant translated as he gushed on and on about how I was such a key part to the success of last night. He thanked me over and over. I asked him if the Prince had been serious about “buying” me. He smiled and said he was very serious, but not to worry I was his “cash cow” so to speak. He asked me how I liked the experience last night of the special room. I smiled and said honestly that I preferred that a lot more then to simply be milked by a machine. He smiled and said, good, good. I suggested some changes to the little area I have to lay in and he said he would see to that immediately. He smiled and said that the word had already gotten out about the special room and the one of a kind dinning experience. He asked if I was up to it. I said up to what? He smiled and said the private dining room was booked up for a month and more requests were coming in by the hour. I expressed concern that I might get worn out if I had to do that every night He said not to worry. They would cut back on the milk needed in the main restaurant. He could make more in one night in the private room then in the main restaurant I really had no choice so I smiled and said I would do whatever I could to make it a success.