Bovine Testing, Part 4

Bovine Testing, Part 4

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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Vicky had tried to go out for a night of fun, and pretend that life was normal, and that she wasn’t trapped in a cycle of humiliating degradation at her work.

She had arranged to go to a nightclub with three of her friends - Beth and Ruby, who she had known since school, and Evan, a friend of Beth’s. Beth and Ruby had been a little shocked by the way Vicky’s breasts had increased in size, and giggled about the wet circles on the front of Vicky’s little black club dress, where her nipples were leaking milk into the fabric. But Evan had clearly liked what he saw.

But after only a couple of drinks, Beth had started getting tired, and Ruby decided to take her home, leaving Vicky alone with Evan. And, worse, Vicky’s tits were starting to become sore and sensitive. She seemed to be producing more milk every day, and being milked once a day at work was no longer enough to drain her udders.

She was forbidden from milking her own breasts, but she needed to do something, so she excused herself from Evan, and got up with the intention of going to the toilets, as she probably needed to relieve her bladder anyway. But she soon realised she had no idea where the bathrooms were in this nightclub, and had to stop to ask the bartender.

“Where are…” she began, as the bartender leaned forward to hear her question. But she was cut off by her cowbell-decorated collar, which gave her a sharp and painful zap to the throat.

Her eyes widened. She had only ever felt it zap her like this before when she was in the lab. Why was it silencing her now?

Then she remembered. Dr Giles had given the collar a new function, to stop her from trying to do complex work when her brain was “confused” by the need to be milked. If her tits were too full, it would punish her for trying to say anything except a cow-like “moo”.

Luckily, her collar was able to do the talking for her.

“Vicky needs her udders milked,” said her collar, in a large clear voice. “Vicky’s bladder is full and she needs to piss.”

The bartender was surprised and amused. “You want to know where the toilets are?” he asked her.

Vicky nodded vigorously .

“Down the corridor,” said the bartender.

But when she got there, she couldn’t enter. Her collar shocked her. It had been programmed to stop her using toilets, and she had no idea how it recognised the room in this nightclub as a forbidden space, but its directive was clear. She couldn’t even open the door without receiving a horrifyingly painful shock.

So she had to go into an alley behind the club, and piss behind a dumpster, hoping no one would see her. At home she had set up a litter box for such things, but there was no such convenience at the club.

And there was no solution for her tits, of course. She couldn’t milk them herself, and it wasn’t like the club had a milking machine installed.

So she had **** but to return to Evan with her breasts still swollen and aching.

“Are you all right, Vicky?” he asked as she sat down.

She opened her mouth - but she would be shocked if she spoke, so she just nodded.

But again, the collar spoke for her.

“Vicky’s udders are full of milk and they need to be milked,” said her collar. And then in added, “Vicky is in heat. Her cunt is very wet. Vicky needs to be fucked.”

Vicky jumped. That wasn’t true! Except… it was, she now realised. In addition to the general horniness brought on by her bovine treatments, she was also becoming increasingly aroused from both humiliation, and from pain in her breasts, and the combination of the aching in her boobs plus the feeling of pissing in an alleyway had left her cunt wet and throbbing.

“Is that collar speaking?” asked Evan.

Vicky nodded.

“And is it… true?” he asked her. “Do you need to be milked?”

She didn’t know what to do. She nodded.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s take you back to my place, and we can make that happen.”

She felt alarmed, to go home with a man she barely knew. But she thought of letting this painful ache in her tits continue all night long, until she could be milked in the morning at work, and the thought made her wince with anticipated misery.

She nodded.

On the car trip to Evan’s house, her collar chattered away constantly. “Vicky’s udders are full and she needs to be milked like a cow,” it declared. “Vicky is very aroused. Vicky’s cunt is dripping. Vicky needs her cunt penetrated.”

When they got to the house, Evan led her inside, and then helped her pull down her breasts to expose her leaking tits.

“How should I milk you?” he asked.

And to Vicky’s surprise, her collar answered.

“Be forceful with Vicky,” it said. “Don’t be afraid to hurt her. Vicky enjoys pain.”

Vicky’s eyes widened. She wanted to argue with the collar, but she still couldn’t speak. She said the only thing she was allowed to.

“Moooo!” she moaned, in an alarmed voice.

“What’s the matter, Vicky?” Evan asked. “Should I do like it says? Be firm with you?”

“Mooooo!” she mooed again.

But her collar provided an unhelpful translation.

“Vicky is becoming wetter. Vicky is **** to be fucked.”

And that was that. Evan got a bowl from the kitchen, and seized her swollen tits in his hands, and began to squeeze them as if trying to wring out a kitchen sponge. It was agonising, and Vicky couldn’t help but start mooing in distress. It wasn’t even a good way to express milk from a breast, but Vicky’s tits were so full that milk squirted out anyway.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” said Evan.

“Vicky is very wet,” said her collar again.

“Actually, let’s take care of this other problem, shall we?” said Evan.

And then he was pulling at her dress, tugging it off her, and then pulling at her panties to remove them too. Vicky tried to struggle, but Evan was much stronger than her. She mooed as well, but that seemed to only make him more aroused.

When she was naked, he grabbed her and threw her bodily over the end of his lounge room couch, her ass up, her legs hanging down, and her tits above the seats of the couch. He positioned the milk bowl underneath her chest, and then stood behind her, and **** his cock into her pussy - which was just as wet as her collar said.

She mooed, in what she hoped was a way that expressed her complete lack of consent, but her collar just kept saying, “Vicky likes this. Vicky is very aroused.”

He pumped his cock into her, hard, banging her against the couch, and then he reached forward, and down under her, to grab her tits, and he began to squeeze these too. Each squeeze hurt - and each squeeze squirted milk into the bowl. He **** her, and milked her, and Vicky mooed and struggled.

“Vicky is cumming,” reported her collar helpfully (and truthfully). “The penetration of Vicky’s cunt is making her orgasm.”

And then it was done. Evan had ejaculated inside her, and squeezed the majority of the milk from her udders into the bowl.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” sighed Evan, staggering away.

And Vicky realised that she could talk again. Her tits were no longer full of milk, and the collar would allow her to speak. What should she say? That he had **** her? That she would go to the police?

She thought about the pleasant tingle in her pussy left over from the orgasm. She thought about how her tits still hurt - but with the bruises left by his vice-like grip on her tits, rather than ache of over-full milk tanks. She felt his cum drip from her pussy, and run in a long trickle down her inner thigh.

What should she say?

“Thank you,” she gasped. “Thank you.” And then she turned, and crawled over to him, and licked his cock clean.

After all, she would want to be milked again in the morning.

(TO BE CONTINUED)