Bon Ape’tit Ch.2

Author’s note. This chapter features a famous real person but is purely a work of fiction.

It was a warm spring day in New York City. My name is Cherie and I was walking down the sidewalk with a sense of importance and purpose. I was dressed casually, but I knew I was getting a lot of looks. Everyone’s eyes, especially the men’s, were drawn to my chest. I am 5′ 2” and very slim but right now I am sporting a pair of 34H boobs. Over the last 6 months they have simply gotten huge. I have to wear custom made bras and even with that they seem to have a life of their own as I walk. Guys can’t help themselves, they have to stare. I have gotten used to that and I smile to myself because even though they are getting looks nobody knows what their intended purpose is. You see my breasts are very unique. For the last year I have been lactating and all of the milk I produce on a daily basis is use in the finest french restaurant in the city. The place is very exclusive and few know of it’s real location. Rumors have spread and there have been articles in the tabloids about the hottest mystery restaurant in town and the super secret menu it has.

I am walking to the clinic where I went through a program to get to where I am today. I was selected from a thousand applicants and passed test after test until I was deemed the perfect producer. I was the key. Without my milk none of this could have been possible. I am going in for a check up and I do have a few questions. I am greeted at the door by the staff. No waiting for me as I am led down the hall to an examining room. I spend the next hour getting prodded and poked. Blood is drawn as well as some of my milk. A few xrays and pictures are taken too. Finally I am told I can get dressed and I am led into the office of the clinic director.

He comes in all smiles and greets me. He has the preliminary tests and reviews them. Everything is better then they expected. My milk volume is very high and the quality is even better now. He doesn’t see any need to adjust my diet or my perscriptions. He will report back to the owner and assures me he will be pleased. He asks me if I have any questions or concerns. I am thoughtful for a moment the I ask this. Why me? What was special about me that has caused all this? Am I really one of a thousand? He smiles and says that if you really look at things I am maybe one out of a million. I still have a confused look and he says he is going to tell me a story which I have the right to know.

The French as anyone knows are passionate about their cooking. French chefs spend years training and are always looking for the perfect ingredient. It seems there is a region in France that has a small herd of dairy cows. These cows have been carefully selected and bred over hundreds of years to the point that milk from them is considered the ultimate ingredient for French Cuisine. The supply is very limited and very expensive. Only a select few chefs get to use any in their cooking. Marcel the main investor and owner of my restaurant has sought to get some of this milk for 20 years. He has always been turned down and finally he came up with a plan to produce his own supply. He is very rich and has a lot of very rich friends. He put together a team to not only get a few vial of the milk but to also get a blood sample from one of the cows. The team was successful and that’s where this clinic comes in. We have researchers here that are the world leaders in gene research.

I was listening to this and still didn’t see where I fit in. He continued by saying that a suggestion was made by one of the top researchers to not try and duplicate cows necessarily, but to try to duplicate the milk. The researcher pointed out that yes they might be able to duplicate a cow but they really didn’t live all that long and there was no guarantee or control. The owner and his investors were intrigued by this and funded the project to learn more. The head Geneticist suggested finding a human female that was a close match and using gene therapy to develop her breasts to be able to produce milk that could actually be superior to the french cows. There were lots of doubts this could work but the more it was explained the more it made sense. Soon the search was on for the ideal candidate.

I looked at the directors and said, and you found me. He smiled and nodded. I asked what exactly they had done to me. He explained that they slowly introduced some gene’s that had been isolated and identified as the necessary components in the milk production of the cows. The tricky part was to find a close enough match so the new gene’s would start developing in the human female. This was all going over my head but basically they were able to change some of my milk producing genes in my DNA to closely match those from the french cows. As the therapy went on over time they discovered new things. The internal structure of my breasts changed dramatically. My milk ducts doubled in size and the lobes and lobules where the milk is made now number 5 times as many. If you compared an xray of the internal workings of one of my breasts to another human female the difference was striking. He showed me a couple of comparisons and how over time I had changed. My nipples changed too as well as my areola. Those measured about 6 inches across now and my nipples were long and if they were being milked they get longer. And of course there was the change in size. I asked him if this was as big as they were going to get and he said he was sorry but they really didn’t know that answer.

The key change in all of this is when my new breasts started to produce real milk. From the start the quality of it was beyond their dreams and it only got better as the volume increased. The final test came when unknown to me the owner took a small vial of the french cows milk and a vial of my milk and had a taste test. He called all the chefs and staff together. He would place a few drops from one vial on someones tongue and have them taste then he would place a few drops from the other vial to compare. These were expert french chefs and a well trained staff. To person all of them said that my milk had come from the french cows and was superior to the other sample. They all said that they were sorry it didn’t work out and started to go back to work. The owner stopped them and then revealed where the two samples had come from. They could believe it and then suddenly realized the real opportunity here. They had a ready source of the world finest most exclusive milk for their menu. A cheer went up amongst the staff.

I was concerned about long term health issues. He said I had nothing to worry about. This was a very targeted gene treatment and really just enhanced things I already had. I would continue to be tested but everything looked great. I had one last question. Where the changes permanent. He said yes that most were. The modified internal structure of my breasts would stay like this. The overall shape of them would also remain as they are. The only thing they were unsure of was if for some reason I ever stopped lactating and then tried to start up again the quality of my milk might change, but then again it might not.

As I walked back to the restaurant I had a lot to think about. I decided not to worry about it, I really like the attention I was getting even if almost all was directed toward my huge breasts. I was a Star even if nobody knew it was me, plus I was getting paid a lot of money. Marcel the owner even had alot of offers for me and my breasts to be photographed for magazines. As always he denied I even existed and said no thanks. Finally he did give in to one very upscale french gourmet magazine. Having an article about your restaurant in there assured you of a huge increase in the demand for your services. They needed a model for the shoot and Marcel insisted I was the one. I got to wear some very expensive hate couture dresses. In every shot my face was hidden by a veil, hat or shadow. Some of the outfits really showed off my figure and breasts. There was lots of innuendo used but no real confirmation as to where the secret ingredient of the menu came from. I think everyone that knew about the unique ingredient the restaurant used guessed the the woman in the pictures was the source.

Today I walked past the entrance. There was no sign on the door just the address. I walked down to the end of the block and used a card key to enter that building. Marcel had bought up the entire block of buildings. I went down a couple of flights of stairs and entered a well lit tunnel. Following it back I could enter the restaurant without being seen from the street. You never knew if a paparazzi was hanging around to take pictures. I went up to my apartment to relax before this evenings festivities. I had been told that the guest list for the private executive room might include an Ex-President of the United States. There had been a lot of famous clientele partake of the special room’s dining experience but this was something different. I called my assistant and requested a massage. I changed into my robe and there was a knock at my door. It was my regular masseuse. He was very skillful and I always felt great after he was done with me. He did my back first and then had me turn over. I had no reservations about being naked in front of him.