Equality of outcum

Elke was striding purposefully and confidently through the main office, the rhythmic beat of her four-inch heels echoing through the office. She was in confident slut walk mode as determined by her bioware and guiding software. Every step was strong and purposeful. Every foot placed right in front of the other, swinging around her centre, landing with a thump. Her ass and tits swayed from side to side with the exaggerated “bump and grind” walking pattern that rubs her thighs together in a way that is both suggestive and inviting. What makes this feat even more remarkable is that she was wearing a blindfold and yet managed to avoid all obstacles in her way, both static and dynamic. 

It is truly amazing how fast the human brain can adapt and evolve. Sensing the world through her nipples has now become second nature to Elke. Today, she was “seeing” exceptionally well as the antennas in her nipples were extended to their utmost. Protruding more than an inch through the material of her top, she could form a clear mental picture of the office in her mind. This was partly due to the fact that she had just been thoroughly used by 3 members of staff simultaneously, partly due to the stimulation and humiliation of her slut walk, and partly due to the fullness of her breasts. 

It was the latter that was the cause of her vigorous march through the office. The first person to sign off her milking request this morning was her archenemy, Agnie. Angie, as usual, prodded, squeezed, and slapped her tits for several minutes before declaring that Elke was not sufficiently ready to be milked. So Elke had to wait an agonising hour before she could make another request. Busying herself in other activities befitting a chief sex officer, it was another two hours before she could log another request. Guided down to the mailroom for another examination, an anonymous employee again examined her, by now, overripe melons clearly straining out of her top, desperate to be milked. Again, her request was denied. The three-man crew in the mailroom made the best use of Elke's surprise visit, and it was another hour before she emerged, cum dripping from every orifice, rushing back to her desk to log another milking request.

By now, Elke’s breasts were truly magnificent. The cow-and-human hybrid breast tissue produced milk in astonishing quantities and could store impressive amounts of fat and fluid. Elke’s breasts had now expanded to a full, size-H cup. When empty. As she was getting ready to be milked, they would expand to double H cups. Today, being more than 4 hours overdue, they were giant I cups, inflated like basketballs. 

Elke could sense the shape of a man intersecting her path, arms outstretched. Brushing aside the frustration and disappointment, she plastered a fake smile on her face and leaned enthusiastically into the embrace. This was one of the oldest parts of her behavioural rules. All staff members had to be greeted with a hug and a kiss. Her performance reviews would assess the enthusiasm of her performance. She was wincing at the thought. The need in her udders and the desperation to reach her goal made her slow to react in her normal, happy, giggling, effusive, affectionate act as befitting a Chief Sex Officer. Her wooden performance would not go down at all well at her next evaluation. Her hesitation at mashing her overinflated tits into this embrace further attributed to her smile being more of a grimace. 

Clearly not pleased at this lukewarm response, she was pulled into a tight embrace, her tits balling up against his chest while she gave him an open-mouthed kiss. Kissing him like her life depended on it, channelling the pain in her tits to her tongue and mouth. Satisfied, the man left the embrace but still remained standing in front of her, hand on her shoulders. “Elke”, Marius greeted her. “Good afternoon! How are you? " 

“Hi, my sexy master Marius”, she cooed. Desperately trying to carry favour whilst wishing fervently that he would be quick. “I can see you are in quite a hurry”, the disappointment evident in his voice. “Let's catch up later”, he said as he stepped forward, pushing his hand underneath her skirt. 

Being casually groped and molested was now a very usual part of Elke's day. Obediently parting her legs and thrusting her pelvis into his hand was almost instinctive. 

“Can you do me a favour? Can you drop this in the bin for me?” It seems Marius wasn’t waiting for the performance meeting to get his retribution. Rather than soothing her itchy crotch, he was shoving his banana peel into her cunt. Followed by his crunched-up coffee cup. The shock and humiliation burned warmly over her chest as the realisation dawned. Marius has just used her cunt as a bin. And as he perfectly well knew, she could not bring her hands anywhere near her pussy. Dropping it in the bin would mean asking someone to take it out.  “Thank you, Elke”, he said, stepping aside, giving her a loud slap on the rear. 

If her slut walk helped her to stay aroused, partly from the friction of rubbing her thighs together and partly from knowing what a sexy spectacle she was making, having to perform the same action with garbage in her cunt turned it into an undignified waddle. She could not afford to let her arousal drop for fear of losing her “sight”. Flaccid nipples couldn’t sense anything. She knew the spectacle drew everyone's attention. The humiliation was the only thing left to fuel her arousal.

Squatting over a wastebasket next to her desk, listening to the sounds of laughte,r someone stepped up to dig the garbage out of her cunt. Her mysterious helper calmly stuck his fingers into her mouth to clean them and proceeded to wipe them clean over her top. Mercifully, squeezing her nipples.

Sitting down at her desk, she could take off the blindfold to look at her computer screen. At that point, the whole office burst into applause. The whole episode was witnessed by the entire floor. 

Elke could not hesitate for long. She needed to be milked urgently. She could feel her breasts stretch another cup size. Logging the request took another 5 minutes before she could don her blindfold and set off again, heading to the stairway. Before she could leave, she was intercepted by another body. Instantl,y she knew that a new tradition had just been born. This time, an empty crisp packet was shoved into her cunt. She knew how fast these office games escalated as everyone tried to outdo each other, and was not looking forward to the next few weeks.

One great advantage of Elke’s new perception is that she can now essentially see through walls. No longer did she have to traverse multiple staircases to find who she was looking for. She could instantly sense the direction of her quarry and plot the fastest route there. This time, she ushered up the stairs to the meeting room floor. Never a good sign, as it means whoever had to approve her next request was probably in a meeting. This would either create a public spectacle or, worse, cause even more delay. Entering the meeting room, she was asked to take the blindfold off to be greeted by a gathering of special project partners. The entire group assembled to design and build her current physique was assembled there. 

“Elke! Welcome.” This was no accident; they’ve clearly been expecting her. “These are magnificent!” Dr. Ricardo stood up and eagerly gestured with both hands at her expanded chest. She wondered if he even noticed her flushed face other than for recognition. His attention was fully focused on the giant orbs on her chest. Like an antique dealer that suddenly and unexpectedly stumbled on an artefact of exquisite rarity, beauty and importance, he seemed to struggle to contain his enthusiasm. Ricardo was the chief plastic surgeon working on her bionic body. He was a genius with an extreme breast obsession. He turned his beaming smile to another bona fide genius in the room. Dr Jamie, who was the first person to commercially print breast tissue for reconstructive surgery. That this unholy alliance had been brokered by her company's ability to think outside the box was both a source of immense pride and regret for Elke. Also sitting around the table was Max, the implantable electronics expert, and Caleb, a veterinarian turned biohacker. Together, they were affectionately known as the “away-team”. 

Elke’s cunt spasmed involuntarily. Being surrounded by so many intelligent outliers always awoke in her an extreme passion. The away-team were scattered all around the world, making it impossible for her to include them in her daily routine, but when they did get together, it was an orgy of epic proportions. She blushed intensely as she realised they all knew.

“I see you are pleased to see us!” That knowing, beaming smile again. On the giant screen, all the telemetry of her new body was displayed. A graph with a blue line showed a sharp spike indicating the contraction in her cunt, and a red line trending steadily upwards shows the heat accumulating in her loins. Intrigue, mystery and subtlety weren’t required for sensual tension in this room. 

“Oh, hi guys”, she cooed like a ditsy airhead. Hi guys? Is that what she has been reduced to? Complete with practised smile, doe eyes and the ever-present perpetual motion of her swaying breasts. What she must look like. In her mind, she still harboured a self-image of a confident, powerful businesswoman. The one who was a co-founder of a successful fintech. The one responsible for bringing all these powerful men together. The Ocean in Oceans 11. And here she was acting like a bimbo airhead. She nearly curtsied. 

“Hi, Elke”, they chorused back. Coming around the desk, the men were eager to greet her. She kissed them like long-lost lovers, and they didn’t hold back. While she was giving Ricardo a deep tongue kiss, the others laughed at the telemetry on screen showing how her arousal was peaking in microscopic granularity. Blood flow to the clitoris, rise of core temperature, elevated heart rate, shallow breathing, length and hardness of erect nipples, goosebumps on her skin, and, more worryingly, various graphs of brain activity that Max was staring at intensely. She remembered Charlie's comment about the fibres growing inside her brain, and his ominous admission that he had no idea what they were doing. Max might be the scariest man in the room yet.

It was Caleb who found the crisp packet in her pussy. Startled at first by the crunching noise he was not expecting from that area, and the way his actions were betrayed to the others in the room. Then collective laughter as he extracted it and held it up for the whole room to see.  “Thanks for joining us today. We were just around for some routine maintenance checks. We weren’t expecting you quite yet. But as you are here, we can just as well start.” Max was getting straight down to business. 

Elke’s breasts were filled to bursting. Every hug, every grope drove the fact home to her. She had to get her udders drained, but Max didn’t leave any room for interruption. As Max droned on about inspections and tests, she was growing increasingly desperate. Unable to get a word in, she started gesturing earnestly to her breasts whilst shaking them up and down in earnest, trying to get his attention. This was something she was doing more and more lately. Using her body and body language to get attention rather than speaking and commanding the room. It was Caleb who noticed her distress first.

“Max,” trying to get Max's attention.

“Max”. Again, more urgent. 

“What?” Max finally gave in, turning to face Caleb in frustration, clearly annoyed by being interrupted. For a moment, she feared he was going to point out her antics, a ploy that would fall completely flat for the tone-deaf Max. Instead, in a stroke of genius, he focused on what he knew would get Max's attention. Look here, he pointed at a graph on the giant screen. It was showing the size, elongation, and most importantly, pressure in Elke’s breasts. I think she is going to burst. Startled, he looked at Ricardo.

Ricardo studied the graph for a moment, then looked at Elke without panic. “Well, the breasts are still growing, it is good to give them a good stretch from time to time”. 

Still growing! They were an I cup right now! How big did he intend them to go? 

Not wasting the opportunity, she butted right in: “Sirs”. Sirs, how humble can you sound when you are desperate?

“Sirs, someone here should’ve received a task to sign off for my request to get my udders drained. Could you please check, it is quite urgent”. 

Ricardo turned out to be the one in question. Of course, Ricardo didn’t need to follow the instructions in the task assignment as he was more than qualified to assess her situation by mere sight alone. That and the fact that the telemetry was displayed in the room around him. Still, he decided that an impromptu review of the process was in order, and as such, he was going to review the instructions, written by some anonymous operations person, by following the directions to the letter.  As per the directions in the system, he pulled her boobs out of her dress. This marked the official start of the assessment. From this point onwards, the cow was not allowed to make any other sound than a moo, so as not to influence the assessment by pleas or misdirection until the assessment was complete.

First, he squeezed her udders to assess the outward pressure due to the milk inside. As per the instructions, if it had the consistency of a standard stress ball or less, the request should be immediately denied due to inadequate pressure. What a “standard” stressball was was highly subjective. Ricardo, an avid rock climber, had immensely strong hands. Elke winced as he gave both breasts a strong squeeze. Elke’s breasts at this stage felt more like a soft grapefruit. Still confused with the “expert” instructions, he moved on to the next step. According to the instructions, this first test is not fully adequate, given that the breasts might not be uniformly filled, confusing the observer. Ricardo raised a sceptical eyebrow at this revelation. In order to ensure uniformity, place both hands around the base of a breast next to the ribcage, forming a large O ring with the thumbs and forefingers. Then pull forwards by creating a wedge with other fingers and palms until the boobs form a uniformly round ball. If you are able to pull forward more than 3 cm before the desired shape is achieved, the request should be denied. Dr Ricardo did not manage a centimetre before her torpedo tits formed round footballs on her chest. Step 3 was to weigh the boobs in your hands by placing them in your open palms and lifting. It should feel heavy. Also, note the shape of the boobs; they should not be flattened by this exercise but retain their roundness. Everyone sniggered at this obvious nonsense. 

Step 4 is to bounce them in your palms. Place the boobs, one in each hand, making sure there is a 2-centimetre gap between them. Throw the boobs straight upwards in a juggling motion, catching them when they come down. You should hear a rhythmic sound pattern of the boobs slapping together as they temporarily deform when caught. Underfilled boobs will make excessive ripples and slosh about. Full boobs will behave more like a water balloon, quickly assuming their round shape.

Step 5. When the cows' boobs are adequately filled, they should, when standing naturally, be separated at the base, touch in the middle and then taper to a point in the front. The next step is to grab the nipples and pull along the line of the breasts, elongating the breast. If the boobs thin to the point where they do not touch anymore, the udders are not adequately filled. 

Step 6. While still holding the nipples, pull the boobs straight upwards until the cow is standing on her tiptoes. Let go of both nipples simultaneously. You should hear a loud smack as the udders make contact with the torso. It is important that you hear only one impact sound and not two, otherwise both udders might not be filled equally. This might take a few tries to get right.

Step 7. Take a firm grip of the nipples, either together or singly. Attempt to rotate them by 360 degrees. Full udders should only allow 270 degrees of movement. 

If you are sure the udders are ready for milking, please sign and date on the underside of the udder on the designated line. Given the placement of these lines, it will be difficult to reach. You might be tempted to ask the cow for help in lifting the udders. Please remember that she is not refusing due to an unwillingness to help, but because she is not allowed to handle the company assets with her hands. There are two ways to overcome this obstacle. One is to get the cow to do a handstand or hang upside down over a table or couch to let gravity assist. The other is to let the cow assist by using her mouth. Grab both nipples and place them in her mouth. If she can hang on to the udders merely by her lips, the udders are not adequately full. Full udders would require her to bite down on the nipples to keep them up and out of the way. Here we can eliminate the last remaining doubts. If you are sure the breasts are full, place the nipples deep into the mouth and allow the cow to bite down behind the base of the nipple. However, if there is any remaining doubt, offer the tips of the nipples to the front teeth. Make sure she gets a good grip. If the boobs fall out of her mouth, she is not committed to the milking and will waste company time. She can, at this point, be asked to do 10 jumping jacks to test her resolve or, if you are in a hurry, give the udders a few hard slaps. If you cannot dislodge the nipples from her mouth, you are ready to sign on the dotted line. 

Finally, remember to put the udders back into the dress to preserve the dignity of others in the office.

By the time Elke was finished with the jumping jacks, she was in tears. She could taste blood in her mouth. Most of the time, people in the office were busy, in a hurry, and just signed as fast as they could. Ignoring all the guidance. But the away-team was in no hurry today. After the jumping jacks, Ricardo gave each tit a hard slap. Elke bit down hard on her nipples again, determination edged on her face. Satisfied with the process, he started looking around for the signing pen. Elke’s heart sank. There was no note to tell the away team where the pens were. Everyone else just knew from experience, and no one thought to include it in the notes. Of course, the permanent marker was buried in her arse, but she could not dare open her mouth to tell him for fear her breasts might fall from her mouth. She tried to get their attention by mooing loudly, bending over and shaking her arse. 

“There will be time for that later, darling, we have a real fun evening planned for you tonight”. In frustration with tears out of her eyes, she had to watch them search the office for a pen for five more minutes, clamping her jaw desperately on her tender nipples. Luckily, Charlie passed by at that point to demonstrate how to retrieve said pen from her arse to seal the ordeal. With Elke still bent over, he flipped up her short skirt. Caleb let out a long wolf whistle. Her arse cheeks were covered top to bottom in welts. Fresh welts covering older healing ones. A few fresh welts adorned the tops of her thighs. 

Elke knew from experience that letting go of her nipples would hurt almost as much as biting them for so long as the blood rushed back into them. Still, as soon as her udders were signed, she let go of both nipples, letting her udders hit her chest with a loud smack. There was a brief moment to savour the relief, stretch her jaw and take a deep breath. A second, two seconds, a moment of calm and then the blood rushed back in. Unable to bring her hands up to caress the aching nipples, all she could do was shake her hands vigorously and jump on her toes, her body stiff as a board. Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch. 

Elke, relieved that the ordeal was finally over, made her excuses and left the room in a hurry. Before she reached the staircase, the system assigned her to her next approver. Turning around to use her magical sixth sense to scan for a direction, she realised with a sinking feeling that it was leading her straight back to the meeting room she started off from. She could hear them still talking animatedly down the hall. 

“Welcome back”, Max greeted, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Max was the next person on her milking process request. This task was to help Elke estimate how much milk she was going to produce in this milking session. For every centilitre that her prediction was wrong, she was going to receive 1 lash of the cane. Ordinarily, this was just a quick step where someone would note down her prediction on the bottoms of every udder. However, the “guidance” notes were elaborate, and the prospect of the away-team following them to the letter brought fresh tears to her eyes.

“Charlie tells me you guys are evaluating our procedures” Angie's head was poking around the doorframe. Of course, Angie would be anxious about her processes being questioned. And she had some explaining to do. Yes, these procedures were mostly a copy-and-paste from the previous task. No, that wasn’t due to laziness. There were key important differences. First, in this session, Elke was allowed to speak. In fact, since it was her arse literally on the line, it was her duty to guide the evaluator through techniques that would help her to make accurate predictions of her milk production. In fact, she was free too and even encouraged to invent her own procedures to improve prediction accuracy. Seeing Angie uncomfortably shift her weight from foot to foot while being interrogated like a naughty school child was a delightful sight to Elke.

“That's it?” The intimidating weight of the full attention of the away team shone on her like a spotlight.

“Well, ahem. There is also a helpful safety note.” Angie found her weight to be equally uncomfortable on either foot. So self-aware that she didn’t know what to do with her hands, she ended up clasping them behind her back.  

The helpful safety note turned out to be: Please remember when recording the prediction under the udders that the hucow was probably biting down on her own nipples in the previous task. To prevent injury, please try to avoid new bites in the same location. This can be done by either varying the depth of nipple offered to her to hold on to, or, and this is the recommendation, by rotating the nipple by ninety degrees before allowing her to bite down.

It was with no small amount of glee that Elke witnessed Angie’s dressing down. Profusely apologising for the “useless make-work”, sloppy procedures, and most of all, vague and unscientific techniques. Angie was taken down a peg or two. This was no game; these were serious people with a serious agenda, and they were not going to tolerate their research being compromised by lazy, incompetent staff. They were driven by excellence and demanded excellence, and they had a serious mission. They wanted to change the milk industry forever. The first milestone was to break a world record, and that required precision and discipline. It required a dedicated measurement room. It required scales for weighing breasts precisely. Precisely calibrated fluid buckets to measure volume precisely. A tit press for measuring pressure. Bioelectric impedance analysers to measure composition. Blood pressure measurements. Stable isotope dilution to measure hydration. Callipers, sonar, ice machines, breast vacuum pumps, 3d scanners, LIDAR, the list went on and on. Angie was stuck like a deer in headlights, frantically trying to capture notes, totally out of her depth, descending at a rate of a peg a minute.

The irony, Elke realised, is that she has achieved one of her key milestones for her career. She has just inadvertently created the first centre of excellence.