Ms Reynolds new breasts

Ms Reynolds new breasts

Part One.


“They come from the state corrective institutions, mainly,” He said.


Rows of them, each in an individual cage, identical, flat chested Orientals only the feet gave the former gender away, each naked, the skin taut and smooth from waist to the gap between their legs, a sexless expanse of pure hairless skin, strangely erotic in a bizarre sort of way.


“Lifers, or from death row, mainly drug dealers these days,” he continued, standing there in his pin striped suit looking more like a stockbroker than a medical doctor, ” This batch have been used as doners and they will now do mine clearance work for the local government” he continued.


“It’s inhuman.” I muttered.


“I prefer sub human,” he said, “but come see the finished product.”


He opened a door, I stopped stock still in surprise.


A pink animal with a once pretty human face lay on its back, its three rows of breasts exposed to view. It’s legs splayed wide to allow the lowest breasts to occupy its crotch, An animal more pig-like than human, a pig with a girls head.


“This is Daisy forty three,” He continued, “a triple udder milker, obviously the top two breasts are originals, and the others came from doners, you can see that all six teats are fully operational indeed it was I myself who personally developed the technique.” He beamed as if he expected some form of adulation in place of the revulsion I felt.


He continued, “We are world leaders in nerve grafts here, we splice the nerves together, you see that is the beauty of this, by careful tissue matching the udders are real milk producing organs not just cosmetic.”


Two like sagging DD breasts, two more high on the abdomen and two low down, a human cow, which looked like a human pig.


“She doesn’t actually produce milk does she?” I asked horrified.


“But of course, I shall show you later,” he replied proudly.


My gaze went down to her groin, the lowest breasts hung where I expected pubic hair and a vaginal opening.


“Where is her,” I could not get the word “Cunt” out.


“Sex, oh she has none,” he explained, “She has been hysterectomised and the waterworks plumbed into the anus, I moved her clitoris there as well so she can derive pleasure from sodomy.”


I threw up, the contents of my stomach boiling from me to pool on the damp floor in a stinking brown mess.


“Bulliminoids, we have Bulliminoids, they evacuate their digestive system by vomiting, they have no arses or penis or waterworks of any kind, another speciality of mine, he said proudly.


My guts ached, perhaps he was already planning how I should become a Bulliminoid.


“So, that is the milker option, forty three is still on a mixed diet, but fully operational milkers have their own diet and lifestyle, come and see.”


He led me to a large low modern factory building, he unlocked a red painted door and showed me inside, I found myself standing on a viewing gallery, the floor was some ten feet or so below, looking down on a herd of what appeared to be largely six breasted hybrid woman / beast / milkers, they were at one end of the building kneeling in line, apparently eating a great mound of wood chips which filled the whole width of that end of the building.


I gasped as I saw the one nearest me had its upper and lower legs bound together so the feet were beside the hips and each walked on it’s knees, which were encased in long black coloured thigh length boots., I saw it had just two grotesquely enlarged breasts but the one next to it had the full six breast treatment and its legs were splayed hideously the thighs almost horizontally splayed to the sides to clear the lowest set of breasts, the lower leg only holding it off the ground.


“They eat sixteen hours a day, turning wet wood chips into milk, they try to resist initially but the hunger takes over,” he seemed quite serious.


“What,” I asked incredulously.


“Oh yes,” he said “there is so little nutrition that all they can do is eat continually, except when they go for milking.”


“Milking?”


“Yes come and meet Helga.” he suggested, “our shift milkmaid.”


He led along the walkway, I saw an area of dry straw and troughs of dirty water set into the floor, every now and again a disgusting jet of liquid shit blasted from the rear end of a beast while they ate on oblivious to everything.


The walkway ended at the end wall of the building and we passed through a door leading to a vertical ladder, “Beast proof” he said. “Helga,” he shouted as we descended, to the lower level.


“Yes Doctor,” she replied, “I’m here Doctor Richards.”


“I have Ms Reynolds, can you give her the tour please, I’ll be in my office.”


“Certainly,” she said looking at me curiously and as I looked round, Helga followed my gaze, “A low level walkway leads to the beast area, a low one barely five feet high, in fact two, one each side of the building,leading to the milking station.” she pointed and under one end of what I had supposed was the mound of wood chips was a white glazed area with metal barred pens.


She pointed to a beast in one corner, “This is seventy two.” It was on its knees with its filthy shit streaked backside towards me, and the suction cups on its six nipples were pulsating to the milking machines rhythm.


“Forty Four is ready, I just hosed her off, you can lead her through if you like, Helga led me through to a wet zone where a beast waited, this one was different, its dark hair neatly coiffured, lips reddened, it’s green eyes showing vague interest, I even thought I recognised her from somewhere.


“She’s prime fuck cow at the moment,” Helga said as she handed me the end of the leash attached to the beast’s collar. “The Lip treatment is a tattoo,” she explained. “And we had a gentleman so I did her hair, I mean it’s hair.” she corrected herself, “Pull her round to station three.”


The middle pen was numbered three, I saw there were huge breast enveloping cups connected to the machine by long lengths of tubing, instead of tiny nipple diameter cups of the other stations.


“We’e still expanding her titties so she has suction twice each day, guide her in.” Helga ordered, she handed me a broomstick, making sure I grasped the clean end . “You’ll need this to calm her.”


The beast held back. “Use the stick” Helga ordered.


I went to hit the beast with the stick but Helga shouted. “No, you don’t hit her with it, it goes up her bum.”


I changed tack and placed it against her anus and started to push, but to my surprise the shaft slid neatly and easily within her. “Move it around, Ms Reynolds, get her in the mood.”


“Ooh that’s nice.” The beast spoke. “Quiet forty four, have they fed you chocolate again?”


“Yes mistress.” Forty four nodded. “Sorry Mistress.”


Helga sighed “They get eating high calorie food on fuck duty and it stimulates brain activity, it really is a nuisance,” she told and then she asked me to attach the cups, they were already sucking lightly so it was just a case of making her comfortable.


Helga flicked a computer screen on, “Ah, you two may have met, she was Dolores at the Blue Flamingo, in Paradise Ohio.”


My legs buckled, the hair was no longer blonde, and her figure was destroyed but I realised that she was indeed like an older version of the Dolores who was shift manager at the Flamingo when I had uncovered their re use of tickets racket.


“Hello Dolores.” I greeted her weakly.


“Forty Four, Prime Fuck Cow.” she announced proudly like some two year old.


“Yes Prime, Prime Fuck Cow,” Helga repeated. “It’s the chocolate.” she explained to me, “they are fine on the low calorie high bulk diet but suddenly someone gives them chocolate and the endorphines kick in and wham the get vocal and dissatisfied.


“How do you start this process,” I asked naively “Surely the girls resist?”


“The procedure is well tested” she said, “in fact I can demonstrate if you like, come through to the reception chamber.”


I followed meekly,through a door and down a long corridor or was it tunnel paralell to the main building, the sound of my heels clopping on the solid concrete floor, echoed around the confined space,and I felt the cool air on my bare legs as my knee length skirt swished arond in the confined space.


Helga said she would show me the process but first we must take off our shoes and wash our bare feet in disinfectant, “Just step through the trough” she said “leave your hand bag on the Table with your shoes and hose with it will be fine there.” she said.


The trough was under the door between the room and the main building, placed in the doorway so ensuring that everyone washed their feet before entering,


I placed my Hand bag and stylish black open toes high heels on the table as indicated and as Helga struggled with her thigh boots she said “Just a moment these are being a pain.” she finally managed to pry them off, pulled up her Trousers to the knee and pushed a button on the wall, an aerator churned the white liquid in the trough and she walked through the shallow trough to the other room.


The aerator stopped and Helga invited me to, “Come through,” so I stepped into the trough, it just never occurred to me that the thick milky opaque substance was anything more than a few inches deep,


“Miss Reynolds.” Helga distracted me at the crucial moment, I stepped down, suddenly the liquid was up to my knee, and the hem of my skirt was submerging, I was falling forward, then in a rush of bubbles I was falling, face down in a water filled grave, the chemical stung my eyes.


“No, not that one Miss Reynolds that is the body dip.