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Rated: 18+ · Interactive · Sci-fi · #2108212
You are diagnosed with a fatal illness. Your only hope is a new machine that swaps memory
This choice: "What's .... my job...?" you ask terrified at the possibilities.  •  Go Back...
Chapter #4

"What's .... my job...?" you ask.

    by: Mr. George Author IconMail Icon
One of the nurses smirks at your nervous question. The doctor looked awkward, staring at the ceiling before answering.

"The procedure went far better than we expected..."

The other nurse sniggered, "None of us expected you to actually survive the procedure. So we had a rather easy job lined up."

"Well more a function, or a role." The other nurse interrupting.

"You were to be a milker...." The doctor ends their teasing with a blank, terrifying reveal.

"We didn't think you'd still have any consciousness, to object, and we... we had to prove you could be productive."

An disturbing image flashes into your mind, of you ready to be milked.

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/82/15/39/...

"You've even been enhanced to better fit that role." Nurse Atkins offered.

You want to rip her smug face off, jam that name badge down her throat.

"But.. but..." you blush as you gesture to your new bust, "these are fake?!" you half ask, terrified of the answer.

"Yes, they are Kiko's additions, her choice. However, we spiked your hormones, and reactivated your milk glands..." Nurse Ratchett added.

"You'll need to be milked, or you'll burst." Her delight clear on her face.

The doctor looked more chastened by his hasty assumptions, and unexpected success.

Whether it was the suggestion, or just that time, you feel a tightness in your bust. Shaking your head, you try to mask your horror. But, it's too little too late, as you feel your first bead of milk leak....

The nurses glances instantly lock onto the damp spot.
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