Fuck that lose your tails

You wrench yourself away from Meret and Bastet, frustration overwhelming your better judgment.

"I didn't come this far to be turned into some kind of milk factory!" you shout, your voice echoing off the stone walls. "I'm finding that artifact!"

You lurch forward, your massive breasts swinging wildly beneath their binding. The collection caps pop off immediately, sending twin streams of milk arcing before you. The sudden weight shift throws you completely off balance, and you careen into the doorway, barely managing to stay upright as you stumble through.

Behind you, the stone servants call out warnings that fade as you rush headlong down a dimly lit corridor. Your milk leaves a trail behind you, each footfall sending shockwaves through your sensitive breasts that trigger fresh spurts. The sensations border on painful pleasure, your enhanced pussy responding with sympathetic pulses of arousal.

At a junction, you choose randomly, turning left, then right at the next split. The passages grow narrower, the carvings on the walls depicting women with impossibly exaggerated fertility features—massive breasts, swollen bellies, wide hips—all in positions of submission or offering.

"I'm not becoming that," you mutter, even as your own transformed chest bounces heavily before you.

You stumble into a chamber with a low ceiling and immediately trigger a hidden pressure plate. The floor beneath your feet begins to vibrate, and fine golden dust showers down from above. It clings to your milk-slick skin, especially your breasts, dissolving into the milk and turning it glittering gold.

"What the fuck?" you gasp, trying to wipe it away, but your touch only spreads the golden milk across your skin. Where it touches, your skin grows more sensitive, nerve endings firing with heightened awareness.

Panicking, you rush through another doorway, finding yourself in a chamber lined with stone phalluses of various sizes protruding from the walls. As you cross the threshold, a mechanism activates, and the stone cocks begin secreting a thick, pearlescent fluid that drips to the floor.

"Arousal intensification chamber activated," announces a different temple voice, higher-pitched and almost gleeful. "Subject unprepared. Administering emergency preparation."

Before you can retreat, metal restraints shoot from the walls, clamping around your wrists and ankles. You struggle wildly as they pull your limbs apart, spreading you eagle in the center of the room. Your milk-heavy breasts hang down, dripping golden milk onto the floor where it forms a spreading pool.

"Release me!" you scream, fighting against the restraints.

"Fertility preparation incomplete," the new voice responds. "Proceeding with manual stimulation protocol."

From recesses in the ceiling, mechanical arms descend, ending in various attachments—some resembling hands, others mouths, still others with suction cups similar to the milking apparatus from before.

One arm positions itself beneath each of your breasts, cupping them with surprising gentleness. Two more hover near your exposed pussy, which is already wet and swollen from the continuous stimulation of your enhanced body.

"Subject resistance detected," the voice notes with something like satisfaction. "Increasing intensity to compensate."

The mechanical hands begin massaging your golden-milk-covered breasts, squeezing and kneading with expert precision. The suction cups attach to your nipples, drawing milk with rhythmic pulls that send lightning bolts of pleasure through your nervous system.

"Oh god!" you cry out as the remaining mechanical arms begin teasing your pussy lips, spreading them wide before a thick, phallus-shaped attachment positions itself at your entrance.