Equality of outcum

Tracking down 5 work colleagues on a Sunday night was difficult enough. Having to explain the situation to each one in turn was both time consuming and humiliating. It took more than an hour to get the service request signed off. All the while her udders ached and throbbed. When the milk finally started to flow it was a near orgasmic experience. Elke, tired physically and emotionally from the day, fell into an almost translike state, blissful release fogged her mind, the rhythmic sounds of the milking machine. She awoke early in the morning with aching burning nipples. She fell asleep and the machine has been pumping away for 5 hours. Her nipples were so sensitive and tender that even the movement of the air caused her to wince. 

The next morning she could barely dress. The slightest movement stimulated her ultra sensitive nipples that were in a permanent hyper erect state. She put on the loosest satin top that was almost see through and set off to work. Angie met her in the foyer with the head of security. The final software feature had to be tested.

On the way to work Angie read about some of the technology features on her new app. The designers took inspiration from the way electric eels generated and stored electricity to build a biological supercapacitor. Layers of special cells traversed from her nipples all the way to the base of her tits. It used the movement in her breasts to gradually build up and store a significant electrical charge and could discharge it rapidly at high voltage. This, Elke thought, explained how all the electronics stayed powered up. 

Angie gleefully explained the latest feature to Elke. Given the newness of the technology there would be a significant chance that one of the microchips in her nipples would fail over time. Thus all the functionality was duplicated on both nipples. In order to ensure that both nipples were used equally she was to switch using the left and right nipple for access control to the building. Every time she entered the building one nipple would be chosen by an algorithm to be the access card for that session. She had to remember which one as she would have to use the same nipple until she left the building upon which the cycle would repeat on entry. 

“So how do I know which nipple is the right one for this session?”

“The gates will open when you swipe your nipple silly”. Angie said.

The electronic gates controlling access to the building required swiping access cards on a low pedestal separating the gates. For most people this would be a comfortable swipe of a hand at hip height. Angie has been using the implant in her right nipple ever since she returned from the hospital. Every morning was an embarrassing ritual as Elke, trying to preserve as much dignity as she could, deftly bent her knees, swiveled her torso and tried to swipe her nipple close enough to the access pad to open the gates. One advantage of the new larger breasts was that the distance she had to bend was shorter. Thanks heavens for small mercies. As embarrassing as it was, she got so adept at the process that few people actually noticed as she stepped through the gate in one smooth movement. Not much more noticeable than someone having a small stumble. Angie decided that would not do. Oh no.

“But if it doesn't open, how do I know if it is because I am using the wrong nipple or whether it's just broken”.

“Ah. That is where the haptic feedback comes in. If it is the wrong nipple there will be a haptic signal. You’ll be pleased to know it is silent. The same signal will also be used if you are trying to open doors or other resources you don’t have access to.” 

Angie refused to be drawn in any deeper into this conversation so Elke stepped up to the plate. Her first surprise came when she bent her knees in the quick bend-and-swivel movement she perfected. A sharp jolt to the pussy made her jump and let out a surprised squeal. Her training the previous afternoon made the signal unmistakably clear. Crotch height needed to be maintained. That left her with the more embarrassing option of bending over with straight knees to swipe her nipple over the access panel. Nothing happened. No haptic feedback, but the gate remained closed. 

“I am afraid a quick long distance swipe is not going to do it anymore” the head of security put in. “Given that every time you come in you will register a new “card” some processing and initialisation needs to happen. You will have to make physical contact with the pad for at least one second”. 

Elke could feel her face turn red as the implications of this new humiliation settled on her. Every day she would have to flash, no, not flash, ‘display’ her cleavage to anyone on the other side of the gate whilst her short skirt would probably flash her privates to whoever is behind her. The blood rushes to her head and she can feel her world contract into a misty fog. She was embarrassed and humiliated, but also, very wet. Darn. Why did this have to turn her on so much? 

Resigned to this new reality she stepped forward for the second attempt. Best get this over with before she starts dripping pussy juice all over the floor. That embarrassment she would never live down. This time she stepped up, bent over and firmly pushed her nipple to the pad. For a second nothing happened. Then a high voltage shock discharged from her right nipple to the base of her boob. The shock took her breath away. Then she jolted straight upright letting out a scream. Her new boobs, always moving unnaturally to her,  completed a wide arch falling out of her flimsy satin top, jiggling and bouncing furiously. Angie was standing right in front of her filming the entire episode on her mobile phone. Stunned, she looked at Angie in disbelief. It took a moment for reality to kick in. She was standing in the middle of the foyer, with her tits out, and her wild scream drew literally everyone's attention. The shame crashed down with even more vigour. Panicking she reflexively brought up her hands to stuff her tits back in her top. High voltage electricity coursed through both her tits and hands as her hand rapidly approached the asset exclusion zone around her assets.The pain that was used to train her hands not to access company assets the previous day still didn’t have time to override her natural impulses. Her hands stopped their upward arc and hovered centimeters from her aching  breasts. Closer than she let her hands come all day yesterday and the pain was exponentially higher.  It took her long agonising seconds to realise what was happening till she snapped her hands down to her sides in a sharp salute. Standing on attention, breath knocked out of her, boobs jiggling and bouncing in front of her. She looked imploringly at Angie. Begging with her eyes. But there was no mercy there.

Angie smiled at her with one eyebrow raised, reveling in her shock and humiliation. She leaned forward expectantly waiting for a response from Elke as if waiting for a toddler to say please or thank you. It took another eternal moment for Elke to realise what Angie was waiting for. “Angie, can you tuck me back in” she said softly through a haze of humiliation. 

“Sorry slut, I couldn’t hear that. Speak up”. Loud enough that all the onlookers could hear. She heard snickers behind her. Someone coughed in surprise. 

“Miss Angie, can you please put my boobs back in my top?” she said with a firmer voice, trying to flatter Angie. 

Angie was going to take full advantage of the situation. “Boobs, I don’t see any boobs. What on earth are you talking about”

“My. My breasts?”

“Goodness no. Ladies have breasts. Prostitutes and strippers have boobs. What does the slut have?”

“Udders? I have udders”

“I”

“Erm. This slut has udders. Please put the sluts udders back in her top Miss Amy”.

“Certainly slut. As soon as you make it through the turnstile to this side of the entrance”.

Elke realised with a sinking heart that there was no respite to this humiliation. She was going to have to see the exercise through topless, with an audience. Trying to refocus on the task at hand she contemplated her situation with new clarity. There was no point asking if this was the “haptic feedback”. They didn’t technically lie. It was silent, it's just that she wasn’t. But then she expected something like the buzz in an ipod or a Wii controller as haptic feedback. Not being tazered in the tit. 

She planned her next attempt. This was even less likely to be pulled off without intense embarrassment as now she would have to plant her left nipple on the right access pad. This meant stretching over awkwardly, on straight legs contorting her body to make contact. Her short skirt was definitely not going to protect her modesty. Nevertheless she rushed it. She wanted to get out of the foyer quickly. She wanted to be away from here.

The position was awkward. She still couldn’t bring her hands near her tits so she had to bend over, wait for the boob to stabilise and press her chest down at the right moment to make contact with the pad. For a moment the world stood still. Then. Zappp. Another agonising shock.

“Thats not fair!” She yelled at Angie. 

Angie just shrugged. “The algorithm today is completely random. Every time it resets a new boob is chosen at random. Like flipping a coin. You are unlikely to call it wrong a few times in a row”.

It was definitely not her lucky day. She faced three more agonising shocks to alternating boobs before the gate finally opened. Had she been more aware she would’ve asked Angie what she meant by “the algorithm TODAY”. It would take her 8 agonising shocks tomorrow before she learned that alternating boobs was not always a winning strategy if the algorithm for the day was to keep alternating boobs too. Sometimes it was random. Sometimes it alternated. Sometimes it picked one boob and stayed with it. She was always kept guessing. Entering the building was never going to be routine again.