Bon Ape’tit Ch.2

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. He saved my breasts for last. He used a special cream on them that had been developed by the clinic. The shear weight of them would normally cause severe stretch marks. This cream prevented those from occurring. It absorbed into my skin quickly and also help my nipples stay supple. He spent a lot of time making sure my breasts were well taken care of. The clinic had given him instructions on how to keep them in the best shape possible. The overall massage took about an hour with half of it being just my breasts. He finished and I thanked him as always with a hug. I got in the shower to make sure I was squeaky clean.

I put on a robe and read a book until it was time for me to go downstairs. My schedule here had changed from when I started. I was almost exclusively used in the private dinning room. I still pumped some milk for the main restaurant but only once a day and that was in the morning. They had found a young woman in their search that developed almost identical to me. Her name was Marie. There were some slight differences in the texture and flavor of her milk compared to mine. If you rated mine on a 1-10 scale as a 10 hers was a 9.8. The chefs would mix the milk I had produced that morning with the larger volume she produced all day. The result must have passed the taste test because the place was always overbooked. Unfortunately you could not use this method of mixing in the executive room. The highest quality had to be used there and that meant me. The dinner party was going to be an early one and I was glad. There had been some late nights this week and I was tired.

My phone rang and it was my assistant telling me the guests were arriving. I put the book down and closed my robe to make my way downstairs. I had gotten used to just wearing a robe and nothing else for these dinners. After all nobody could see me except for my breasts and those were Au natural. I waved at the kitchen staff as I walked by heading down the hall. I climbed the few steps that lead to a door. Bending down I opened it and entered the area where I would spend the next couple of hours. The drop ceiling was were I would climb into. I had made some suggestions for improvement and every one was followed. The padding was improved and custom fitted to my shape. The openings for my breasts were also padded and custom fitted for me. I had an I-touch if I wanted to listen to music. They had also installed a close circuit monitor that was hooked up to some hidden cameras in the room below. I could switch from shot to shot if I wanted to observe the goings on down there. There was also an intercom system. I could hear all the conversation or I could switch over and talk to the chef or security if I needed to. My favorite thing was to watch the guests on the monitor. I loved their expression as the night progressed and things were revealed.

I could see people coming in the room and I removed my robe and sat there completely naked waiting for my cue. People were sitting down and I switched to a different camera shot and that’s when I saw him. It was unmistakeable. The guest of honor tonight was Bill Clinton. I smiled knowing that soon Mr Clinton would be able to gaze upon my huge naked breasts and I was sure he would never forget them. When the guests were all seated Marcel came into the room and introduced himself. This was a new part of the act he had developed to make things more dramatic. Right now the curtain was drawn open. He explained the search for the perfect woman without revealing the actual details. He said that the search was very expensive and that was true. He said to rejoice tonight because they had found her and tonight they were going to have the experience of their lives. With that he drew the curtains closed with a flourish. That was my cue to climb down and get in position. I laid down on my stomach and wiggled around until my breasts were positioned over the openings. I leaned forward more and they started to squeeze through. My breasts were very full tonight but soft from the massage. I was having a little problem getting them all the way in the openings. I guess I would have to have the opening size adjusted again. Finally and without a moment to spare after using two hands on each of them I was able to squeeze them through and felt them finally hang down. The room below was colder then usual tonight and my nipples became very hard.

Now all the guests knew that the key ingredient of the menu tonight was going to be human breast milk. Many of them had not quite figured out just how that was going to be accomplished. Marcel was explaing the menu when Bill Clinton himself spoke up asking the most common question. He told Marcel and all the guests that he had no doubt that the meal was going to be spectacular tonight. He said he had heard that the special ingredient might actually be fresh human breast milk He wonder just how everyone here tonight would know for sure that was the case. I looked in the monitor and saw some heads nod in agreement. The was a mix of women and men here tonight. Marcel let the murmuring die down. He looked at the Ex-President and asked him how would he make sure there was no doubt if he owned the restaurant. Mr. Clinton smiled and looked around and said the only way was to have the woman present and actually see her milk being produced and used in the dishes. There was more murmuring and I knew Marcel was letting things build. He looked at his guests and said, is that what you want? They all said yes and clapped hoping things would happen. Always the showman, Marcel grabbed the curtain and with a flourish pulled it open revealing to all what the source of the special ingredient was going to be tonight. There before them for all to see were my huge breasts hanging down over the table. To see them now compared to when I first did this would make you do a double take. They were so much bigger now. Their weight seemed to have doubled. They had actually had to raise up the boxed ceiling some because they hung so low they were hitting the table.

Like always there were some gasps and sharp intake of breaths. I heard a couple of OMG from the women. Most of the men just stared. Clear as a bell I heard the unmistakeable voice of Bill Clinton say, now that right there fellas is a huge pair of tits. Everyone turned and looked at him and then nervous laughter broke out. He was right, they were huge and very full and in need of relief. The chef came forward and reviewed the first course again. He placed a bowl below me and started to hand express my milk. Every one watched him, fascinated. The bowl was soon full and taken back to the cooking area. I was listening to the conversations. Two of the women were having a common one. One asked the other if she could do that? She shook her head and said there was no way all the while staring at my udders. The first one whispered that it would be nice to be the center of attention like I was for one night. They both smiled at each other. I smiled too because yes it was nice. The courses progressed. When each one was served people were tentative at first but once they tasted them they raved about the skill of the chef and how delicious everything was.

Finally dessert was going to be prepared. As usual a big bowl was placed beneath me. The chef warmed his hands and then began pulling on both nipples until he had a rhythm going and strong streams of my milk were shooting out from the ends of my nipples into the bowl below. It was actually quite noisy. He slowly sped up and the guests were speechless. How could that much milk come out of her? The bowl was almost full when he slowed down. He had squeezed out almost 2 liters. That was a lot. More then he needed but he was putting on a show. As he walked back to the cooking area carrying the big bowl of milk, Mr. Clinton said that he had grown up on a farm in Arkansas and knew for sure that the chef and me could enter just about any milking contest there and would win for sure.

The dessert was served and extra milk was requested by most everyone to be squeezed onto their plates. My breasts performed perfectly. Coffee was served and everyone was encouraged to try some of my sweet milk in theirs. One of the women held her cup out and said she would like some in hers. By that time Marcel had re-entered the room. He made a move to take the woman’s cup but then stopped. He looked around and said that tonight was serve yourself night and that if she wanted some of the sweetest most delicious milk in the world in her coffee she would have to get it herself. The lady got a surprised look on her face and was speechless. Everyone understood what Marcel wanted the woman to do and started goading her on. They were clapping and calling her name as she stood and made her way over to me. Obviously not sure of herself she set her cup down and tried to decide how to do this. There were two very huge breasts in front of her to choose from. My nipples were very long from the pulling on them tonight. It would be very easy just to grab one and squeeze in a downward motion. She would get plenty of milk for her coffee that way. I felt a small hand touch my nipple and then lightly grab it and pull. This wasn’t going to produce anything doing it that way. I of course couldn’t tell her that. She tried it again and nothing came out. She looked around the room for a sympathetic face. Mr. Clinton said that maybe she needed to look at that one more closely to make sure it was turned on. There was some muffled laughter but sure enough the woman bend down and got very close to the end of my nipple and examined it. She was asked if she saw anything yet and she shook her head no. She was told to look closer which she did. Someone suggested she place my entire nipple in her palm and close her hand around it. She said that now she remembered that’s how the chef did it and imitating the method he use with her face an inch from the end of my nipple she rolled her fingers and squeezed. My breast instantly responded and a thick warm stream of my milk shot out and hit her in the face.

Everyone started rolling with laughter as she sputtered and coughed. She was embarrassed but showed them all she knew how to do it now as she lifted her cup and with one hand aimed and shot a stream of my milk into the cup. Everyone took their turn and some came back for second helpings. The party was over and everyone thanked Marcel and gushed over the chef and the meal he had prepared. They had gotten used to the sight of my big boobs hanging out in space over their table. They were just a part of the surrounding meal now. As they were leaving Mr. Clinton lingered to speak with Marcel. He told his security to wait outside. He thanked Marcel again and the said he had heard that special guests were sometimes allowed to sample the milk from the woman, directly from the source. Marcel nodded and said that yes that privilege was sometimes granted. Mr. Clinton smiled and reminded Marcel how many foreign leaders and power brokers he knew. He said he could help Marcel increase the demand in his little restaurant here. Marcel knew this was true and smiled and offered Mr. Clinton the chance to partake of me.

He didn’t hesitate and walked right over to the closest of my breasts. He picked it up using two hands. He said that this was a heavy one. He leaned forward and sucked my nipple into his mouth. He wasn’t the most accomplished at this but soon he had a good flow of milk going. He was drinking it down obviously enjoying himself. I couldn’t believe I actually had a former President of the United States suckling on my breast. Of course I could never tell anyone about it. Marcel was letting him spend a long time latched on to my nipple. I felt Mr. Clinton’s hand start to squeeze and knead my breast he was holding. He was sucking harder now obviously not interested in getting more milk out. I knew he was getting excited when I felt his teeth start to nibble a little on my nipple. He got more insistent and it was actually starting to hurt. I was reaching for the security alarm on the intercom when Marcel put a hand on his shoulder and said that was enough for one night. Reluctantly he let go of my nipple with his teeth and mouth and after placing a kiss on the breast he was holding let it fall. He turned to thank Marcel again he left the room.

Marcel said the coast was clear and we all gave a collective sigh of relief. They were cleaning up down below and I was struggling to sit up. My breasts were drained and smaller then earlier in the evening but I was still having issues getting them out of the holes. I knew I had a fairly fast cycle of producing milk and soon my breasts would be back at their fullest. I had to get them out now before it was too late. I pulled on them and was making some progress. I think someone below saw my dilemma and started to help by pushing on my breasts from underneath. Slowly they squeezed back through and I rubbed them hoping they would not bruise. I sat there for a moment collecting my thoughts. I wondered where Hillary was tonight and also just how many different nipples had Mr. Clinton tried during his presidency? I looked at the clock and saw that even though I had been up here a couple of hours it was still relatively early and I could have some time to myself before turning in.

I had just pulled my robe around me when my assistant opened the little door and came in. She was out of breath having hurried up here. I asked her what was wrong and suggested we go to my room. She shook her head no and said I couldn’t leave yet. I asked her to explain and she said that Marcel had just received a call. One of the most influential food critics from France was on his way over and wanted a sampling of special desserts prepared and served to his large party. He specifically asked to be served in the executive dinning room. I knew exactly what that meant. I would have to perform again, twice in one night. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. As I was doing this she said it was only going to be dessert and not a full meal. I knew though that if multiple desserts were asked for and prepared it could take quite awhile. This must be very important to Marcel. This critic apparently could make or break a restaurant. I heard the intercom come on and Marcel asked in a nervous voice if it was a go. I didn’t say anything and he asked again this time saying please. I hit the button and said yes it was a go but he owed me big time and to give me a minute. I wrapped my robe around me and headed down the steps. I had to pee and I wasn’t going to use the one near the kitchen. I headed back up to my apartment to use my own bathroom. After finishing and giving my breasts a quick once over to make sure they looked alright I headed back down. I could feel them starting to swell some and I knew they were filling up again. I had to hurry because I knew if they filled up all the way I would have problems getting them into the openings. They were already sore from the use during the previous meal and the extraction from openings.

I hurried back up to my compartment. Apparently the guests had already arrived and Marcel was getting them all seated below. My assistant looked a little frantic and I gave her a dirty look and told her not worry that nothing was going to happen without me and they would just have to wait. I disrobed and eased myself back down into my little space. I knew there was not much time and I looked to see from the monitor that the curtains were in place and would be drawn back soon to reveal me. All this excitement had caused my breathing to increase and my breast to fill up to capacity. I leaned down to get them through the openings and they wouldn’t fit. There must have been some additional swelling from the use earlier and now they were also full. I told my assistant to use the intercom and tell them to stall. Marcel heard this in his ear bud and extended his story of how he started things and found me. I was using both hands to try to squeeze my right breast back through the hole. I was making slow painful progress as it finally popped through once again. I then started on the left one knowing that it actually was a little bigger. My assistant asked is she could help and I just shook my head. It felt like my boob was in a vice. I heard below some doubt from the guests as to the authenticity of the ingredients. I knew Marcel would want to pull the curtain back soon. This was becoming such a circus. I pushed hard once more and slowly felt my breast squeeze through the opening. I had done it. I could feel the heavy pull from the weight of my breasts and knew things would work and I would have plenty of milk for the guests. I tried to slow my breathing and heart rate and relax.

I looked at the monitors and saw there were a lot of people below, maybe 20. They guy at the head of the table I could tell was the french food critic. I looked around and changed cameras and noticed two fairly well know actors and one very well known musician. He had a reputation for heavy drinking and partying. There were some sleazy looking women with him and I hoped everyone would behave. Just as I finally relaxed and let out a deep breath Marcel pulled back the curtain revealing to everyone where the key ingredient was going to come from tonight. This crowd was a little rowdy and their reaction was varied. Some just stared and others cheered and clapped. Marcel tried to calm everyone down and looked to the critic for some help. The critic was the type of person that loved attention. That’s why he hung out with a group like this. He did know that this after all was an exclusive restaurant and he quieted everyone down so dessert could be prepared. Marcel thanked him and started to leave the room. The rock star musician then spoke up. He said, those things can’t be real. They have to be some special effect thing that just looks like a tit. They are too big and I have never seen nipples like that. Marcel stopped and turned around. He walked back over and asked the guy just what he meant. Everyone was looking at him and the guy had obviously been drinking. He said well just look at them. Those nipples look more like a cow’s then a humans, they are huge. He actually was right. When they have been pulled on my nipples get very long, almost 3 inches now. I had just served a 9 course meal and they were still long from the pulling it required. I was used to being described like that and it didn’t bother me. If they all really knew how my breasts had been developed and that they were very unique they would be shocked.

Marcel wanted to make sure everyone there believed where the milk came from and that these were actually human female breasts presented before them. He had the guy stand up and walked him closer to me. He asked the guy so everyone could hear if he had ever touch a real female breast. There was lots of laughter and the guy laughed to and said yes he had, thousand’s of them. Marcel took the guys hand and placed it on the side of my breast. The guy’s eyes got wide. Marcel asked if he felt how soft it was and if he could feel the heat from it. They guy just nodded. Moving his hand lower Marcel told him to squeeze gently which he did. He moved the hand underneath and told him to lift it. The guy hefted my boob feeling the weight. Marcel then asked him, are those real? The guy still holding my boob said, hell yes these are real. Everyone laughed and clapped. Marcel then asked him if he was sure. He nodded and then Marcel said he should get a better look at the nipple. The guy bent down and got very close and examined my nipple. I thought for a moment he might stick his tongue out to lick it, but then Marcel said here let me show you something. With that, Marcel quickly and expertly grabbed my nipple and squeezed. My very full breasts erupted and a long stream of milk hit the guy between the eyes.

The room seem to explode with laughter and cheers. The rock star just smiled and took his seat with my milk still dripping from his face. Marcel decided to have some fun. He would pick out someone and then give my nipples a firm squeeze and hose them down with my milk. He did this about 6 times and it was obvious he had won the crowd over and they were all believers now. The chef took over now and explained the menu. He expressed enough milk from me for the first dessert. Someone asked why he didn’t just get all he needed one time for the night. The chef explained that the best tasting milk is the freshest milk and that he would only get some right before it went into a dish. The first dessert was served and everyone dug in and raved about it. I looked at the camera and saw the critic smiling.

I was feeling pretty good, or at least as good as a girl can with her boobs hanging down in space for a large group of people to see. I had closed my eyes when I heard the door to the space open. I figured it was my assistant coming to check on me. I didn’t move because I was comfortable. I felt a hand softly rub my lower back. Laying there nude had it’s advantages. The hand slowly moved down to my ass and when I felt a squeeze I knew it was a male hand. Who was this? I couldn’t turn and look because I was still part of the meal and I wasn’t sure if my boobs would come back out easily. The few lights up there were suddenly turned off. I felt two hands on my hips lifting them up. I was now on my knees with my chest on the padding and my boobs were being milked by the chef. All of this stimulation had made my pussy wet. I felt strong fingers part me and finding my clit they stroked it. Now I admit this felt really good. It had been a long time since I had sex, over a year. I had just been too busy and during the program it wasn’t allowed. I was still wondering who this was and what he had in mind. I could have reached for the security button but I didn’t.

The hand was removed and I felt the cool air on my wet swollen lips. I felt his weigh shift forward and knew what was coming. He had his cock in his hand and was rubbing it up and down my wet pussy. From what I could tell it was on the large size. He stopped placing the head at my entrance and pushed forward. I was right, it was big. He had to grab my hips with one hand as he guided himself with the other. He pressed a little harder and it started to part my lips and ease in. Even though I have huge tits now, I actually am very small. That includes my pussy which is very tight. I’m not a virgin but I also haven’t had sex in a year. He was making more progress and I was biting my lip because he was stretching me a lot. I guess the head got past the most restrictive part and most of his rock hard cock went in me. He started a slow pumping motion. Just as that was happening the chef down below was starting to pump milk out of my breasts. This was the part of the preparation where he would express about 2 liters for the final dessert. He used 2 hands and it was quite the show. I had a big cock pumping my pussy and both breasts getting squeezed below. Everything seemed to be in sync and I was beside myself. I had never felt anything like this. Both the hands below and the cock sped up at the same time. I could hear the streams of my milk hitting the bowl below. Just as the chef finished having filled the bowl so did the cock inside me, exploding and filling my pussy. I came hard to and as the cock withdrew I was still in spasms. I heard a couple of guests say that it looked like my boobs were swinging back and forth some.

As I was calming down I heard the door open and close and I knew he was gone. I laid down flat again and tried to relax. I knew the coffee was going to be served in a minute and I would be needed. I saw cups being served and I felt my nipples being squeezed and pulled. I wasn’t sure who was doing it. Probably the chef and a few guests too. Both nipples were being used at the same time. They performed like the were designed to do and everyone was satisfied. I saw Marcel come back in the room. The french critic stood up and applauded as did everyone else. He shook Marcel’s hand and then kissed him on both cheeks like the french do. Marcel thanked him but then motioned with his hand toward my hanging breasts and said the she is the real star here. The critic agreed and came over and gave each of my breasts a kiss. The room finally cleared and I knew Marcel was very happy.

They were cleaning up below and I figured it was time for me to get up. I felt good from the sex but I was tired. Doing a push up to raise up I had to stop. I had forgotten. My breasts would not come back through. They had been drained of some milk tonight but nowhere near what is needed for a 9 course meal. I had relaxed awhile after the meal and I guess they had filled up again. They actually felt overfilled and huge. Maybe the sex stimulated them some. I wasn’t sure how it happened but as I pulled again I knew I had a problem. I hit the intercom and said I had an issue up here. The chef answered and I said for him to look at my breasts and see if something was keeping them from coming back through the openings. I saw him looking at them in the monitor and then he came back to the intercom and said he knew what the problem was. I asked him to please tell me. He said my breasts had swollen up huge. He said they were as big as he has ever seen them. I asked him to please come up with a solution. We weren’t going to call 911 and if too much force was used they could get damaged and bruised putting me out of commission for a few days.

He said he had an idea. He got a bowl and placed it under me. He started to milk me squirting the long streams into the bowl. He did this for about 30 min and I saw him shake his hands because they were cramping. He would stop and measure my boobs then get back to squeezing. My nipples had not had this much attention in one night in some time and they were getting sore. A call out to the staff was made for anyone that had milking experience. A young busboy said he had grown up on a farm and milked many cows and goats. He came into the room and took over. I saw how big his eyes were when he saw what he had to do and I am sure I saw a bulge in his pants as well. He was very good at milking and got into a rhythm. The chef would measure my boobs them measure the hole. He told the boy to keep going. I did feel my breasts start to drain some. I just wonder if it would be enough. Finally the chef told the boy to stop. He told me to pull some and he pushed from below. They started to come back through but I had to stop when it hurt too bad. The chef said he had an idea. He went over to the cooking area and came back with a container. It was full of very expensive butter. Butter that actually been made from my milk. He spread some liberally on my breasts. They were very greasy now and he said let’s try again. I pulled and he pushed and I felt movement. The butter was helping and slowly they oozed back through. I sat up rubbing them and thanked him. I actually heard some claps below.

I tried to clean up but finally just threw my robe on and climbed down. As I walked down the hall I passed Marcel’s office and he looked up at me from his desk. He smiled and said thank you for tonight. I said your welcome but as I walked down the hall to the stairs up to my room I thought I saw a strange look on his face when he said that. As I laid in bed I was thinking about what had happened tonight. A huge demand for my milk and a mystery lover. I wonder who it was. Would it happen again? I actually hope it would. It was very exciting to be having sex a few feet from a lot of people and they had no idea. A new thought crossed my mind. During the program I wasn’t allowed to take birth control pills because of the hormones in them. It could interfere with the gene therapy. I hadn’t seen the need lately and I had just had unprotected sex with a stranger. Was he potent and could I get pregnant? I would have to ask the doctors this without revealing what happened. I went to sleep that night with a smile on my face.