Bovine Testing, Part 3

Bovine Testing, Part 3

Story by All These Roadworks (2023).

Author's Note: I'm bringing all six chapters of "Bovine Testing" to CHYOA in time - but if you want to skip ahead, or show your appreciation, you can buy the complete saga - plus eight more stories - in my e-book Bovine Testing and Other Tales of Hucow Erotica, available for $3.99 USD at AllTheseRoadworks.com. (Click here to view in store.)

Also, my kinks aren't my politics - I promote real-life respect, equity and positive enthusiastic consent.

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The next morning, Vicky was supposed to be speaking at an important meeting of senior management. She arrived at the meeting with her folder of notes, but she was already blushing even as she passed through the door. Her tits were so big these days, and she was almost always leaking milk, so there were already wet circles on her shirt in front of her nipples. In addition to which, she was still wearing Dr Giles’ collar, complete with its humiliating cowbell. She had tried to remove it at home, the night before, and had only received several painful electric shocks for her trouble.

Still, she was determined to say her piece.

As they were taking their seats, Allen brushed past her and whispered in her ear, “I didn’t see you down at the lab this morning. Don’t you need to use your litter box, Vicky? Isn’t your bladder full?”

She blushed and ignored him. The collar allowed her to toilet normally at home, and she had emptied her bladder first thing that morning.

Although since then, she had had breakfast, and now that Allen mentioned it…

She put the thought out of her mind.

She did not have to wait long at the meeting. She was second in line to speak. When it was her turn, she stood, and launched into her topic.

“I want to talk about the way this company treats women,” she said. “There has been a frankly unacceptable amount of disrespect levelled at women in this office, including myself, and…”

She was interrupted by Allen speaking loudly over the top of her.

“BORING,” he said, and there was some laughter.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about!” said Vicky. “I can’t believe…”

She was again interrupted by Allen.

“Hey Vicky,” he asked. “What’s going on with your udders? Why are there wet circles on your shirt?”

Vicky was suddenly aware that everyone in the room - almost all of them men - was staring at her tits. She blushed bright red.

“That’s not important,” she said, defensively. “I’m trying to talk about…”

This time it was Mr Sears who interrupted her - the elderly head of the company.

“Actually, Vicky,” he said, “I’m with Allen. I would like to know what is going on with your breasts. Can you explain? And why are you wearing a cowbell?”

Her face went even brighter red. She struggled to find words. She had never been so humiliated in her life.

“There’s something wrong with her,” said Allen. “I think she forgot to piss this morning.”

She glared white-hot daggers at Allen. How dare he do this to her! How dare he say these things! She couldn’t believe it.

But he had once again reminded her that, yes, actually, her bladder *was* a little full, and…

Suddenly, her collar spoke, in a loud, clear voice that everyone in the room could hear.

“Vicky’s bladder is full. Vicky needs to piss.”

There was a burst of sudden, surprised laughter from the men at the meeting. And suddenly no one was staring at Vicky’s tits - they were all staring at her cunt. And while her dress was perfectly appropriate at concealing her groin, she had never before had a room full of her peers - powerful, professional men - staring so directly at her pussy before. And she felt something starting to happen between her legs….

Her collar spoke again.

“Vicky’s cunt is wet.”

She squeaked, and pulled at her collar, trying to remove the hateful thing, but it just gave her a shock, and she had to drop her arms.

The men in the room were laughing even harder now. Some of them were laughing so hard their faces had gone bright red. And they were still all staring at her tits or her cunt.

“Vicky’s cunt is very wet,” proclaimed the collar. “Vicky needs to be fucked. Vicky needs to be fucked.”

“Look, I think I know what the actual problem is here,” said Allen. “It’s been a bit of a secret, for privacy reasons, but I think I need to say something now. The fact is that Vicky sexually identifies as a cow. She’s volunteered for our research program because she wanted her tits to get bigger and make milk, and now she’s actually lactating quite heavily and needs regular milkings and fuckings. She can’t think very well now - she’s quite stupid - and she gets distracted when her udders are full and her cunt is wet.”

Vicky opened her mouth to scream at Allen. None of this was true! Or at least, mostly not true! But she was so incandescent with rage - and so confused by her wet cunt - that she couldn’t find words, and ended up just spluttering impotently.

“Vicky clearly needs a milking and a fucking,” continued Allen, “so why don’t we all follow her down to the lab, and you can see what she’s currently going through?”

“Vicky’s cunt is drooling,” said Vicky’s collar. “Vicky is soaking her panties. Vicky needs to be fucked.”

And then there was nothing for it but for Vicky to follow the entire management of her company down to Dr Giles’ laboratory.

She was crying a little as she got there, because she knew what was coming next.

“It’s okay, Vicky,” said Mr Sears. “You’re among friends here.” And he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, so that it came to rest on her opposite breast, and then he squeezed her breast a little with his hand.

She felt milk squirt from her nipple into her shirt, and then run down her belly and soak into her skirt and panties.

Dr Giles made Vicky undress, in front of the entire management, and then he led her over to her litterbox, and everyone watched as the crying nude big-titted executive pissed into the box like a pet.

Then they led her over to the milking machine and strapped her into place, and she couldn’t help but gasp with relief as the tubes began to forcefully suck milk from her udders. It felt so *good* to be milked. She tried to thank Dr Giles, but her collar shocked her, and she remembered she couldn’t talk in the lab, only make animal noises and moo.

That left the matter of the fucking, and Mr Sears took the first turn. Vicky tried to protest, but again the collar wouldn’t let her speak, so she just said, “Mooo! Mooooo!”

“It’s all right, Vicky,” said Allen, stroking her hair. “You’re being fucked by the man who runs your company. That’s every woman’s greatest workplace aspiration. Aren’t you proud to have your dreams come true?”

Then, after Mr Sears, had ejaculated inside her pussy, two of the other managers took a turn, and then Allen finished her off. By this point Vicky wasn’t crying anymore, and she had orgasmed several times. She was in a floaty, dopey, happy space where the mixture of pain, pleasure, violation and orgasms had left her mind blank, submissive and unconcerned.

“This is all very interesting, Dr Giles,” said Mr Sears when it was over, “but I have some worry about Vicky. Today she tried to give a management presentation when she clearly needed to urinate and have her udders milked. It was very confusing and disruptive. Is there anything we can do about that?”

“Absolutely,” said Dr Giles. He brought a gun-like device over to Vicky, held it against the underside of her right breast, and pulled the trigger. Vicky yelped at a sudden pain in her tit.

“I’ve just implanted a chip into her breast which will help us monitor her milk production,” said Dr Giles. “From now on, when her milk loads reach critical levels, it will engage the speech limiter you see here in this laboratory. Basically, when she needs to be milked, it won’t let her talk anymore - only moo. That should stop her from talking nonsense when her natural biological urges are interfering with her brain.”

“Won’t that make it rather hard to do her job?” asked Mr Sears.

“Possibly,” said Giles. “Of course, as a woman, and as a cow, Vicky was never going to be very good at her job to start with. I suggest you get a man from her section to act in her role for a couple of months, and give Vicky lighter duties, as we see how these changes play out.”

“Lighter duties?” mused Mr Sears. “Perhaps… as the office secretary and coffee girl? Would you like that, Vicky?”

Her eyes were wide. No, she did not like that! She did not want to be demoted, and given a humiliating position as a coffee girl.

She opened her mouth to say so - and the collar shocked her.

Because she couldn’t talk. She could only moo.

So she mooed.

And Mr Sears and Dr Giles heard exactly what they wanted to hear.

(TO BE CONTINUED)