She breaks and the news is good.

“The antidote is in my safe, the combo is 38-30-36. Please, either give it to me, or at least let me use a milker. This is ****, I didn’t do that to Ultramom. She’s not suffering and she won’t, there’s even a food and drink dispenser in the milker, she won’t get dehydrated, won’t starve, won’t suffer at all, in fact, she’s enjoying herself, just like I would be, if you’d just let me touch myself, milk myself,” she damn near mooed that last phrase, “or do it yourself, anything but this nothing, please…” she whimpered.

“Where’s the safe?” He asked, as coldly as he could manage with a hot MILF suspended and begging for him to touch her.

“My office, but, I need—“

“Where’s the milker closest to here?” Ultraboy snapped.

Her eyes lit up. “I can take you there, but there’s one’s closer to my office.” She said, understanding the quid pro quo at last.

Ultraboy lowered her down and pulled the white coat down over her shoulders, then used it as makeshift handcuffs. “Lead the way, to your office. After I get what I need, and make sure it works, you’ll get what you need. So it’s in your best interest that we don’t run into any…delays. Like say, horrible robot battles.”

She nodded eagerly and led him through the maze of passageways at a human sprint, or a superhuman stroll. It was a ridiculous sight, her swelling tits bouncing, milk soaking into them as she ran, faster than a woman in high heels likes to run, her ass shaking and her skirt limiting her movement, until a yank from Ultraboy’s hands ripped it up the sides, revealing a length of smooth white skin covered by black stockings, now soaked with sweat and the juice dripping from her pussy. Her stride lengthened as they entered her office and she came to a panting halt, pointing at the painting concealing the safe with her head, in an awkward gesture that once again made him aware of the growth of her already fantastic tits.

He opened the safe, rather than let her do it and removed two vials of the antidote, as that was all there was, then read the instructions. Once again, the doctor’s love of clear labeling was her downfall. Two doses were needed to cure someone, one in each breast, so his original plan of using the good doctor as a lab rat, yet again, was out. He could only cure one of the beautiful blonde older women. As he weighed his options, he looked at the women, his mother on the monitor, moaning as the milker did its job. Almost as much fluid was escaping from her cunt as her nipples. As he watched a needle entered the arms suspended above her head, bringing nutrients and fluids to make up for those the milker sucked away from her. Sufficient flow had been established that the machine began phase two, pushing in on one breast, then the other, driving her moans to screams, not of pain, or not solely of pain, but of satiation, the scream of complete success, of having fulfilled your purpose, a warrior, dying victorious might have given such a scream….

Dr. Bluder was not sated. Quite the reverse. As he read the instructions she whined that the needed to go. And as he was distracted, she sat down next to a table and began to hump the table’s leg and use it to press against the inside of her tits, forcing more milk out. “I need…free me. Please, it hurts. She’s not hurting, aren’t you supposed to help people, not hurt them? She’s happy, I’m not, please make me happy,” she begged, barely louder than the sound of her humping the table leg.

"The codes to your system." He demanded.

She moaned in response and he pulled her away from the table leg and she gave him the codes. He released her and entered the system as she resumed grinding her clit against the table leg. The records were meticulous, but there was no more of the antidote, presumably she thought she could barter it for freedom if she was caught, but the system contained her notes. There was no easy out though, only one person could be cured, for now.