All it took was one little embezzlement, and Vicky found herself trapped as a test subject for cow drugs.

It was Allen in accounting who discovered it, and he confronted her about it late one night in her office at the monolithic pharmaceutical company where she was an executive.

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Vicky Cow-Tits,” said Allen, smirking as he entered her office.

Vicky was tired from working late, and in no mood for his disrespect. Yes, she had large breasts, on a relatively slender frame, and they were always something of an embarrassment for her, but Allen always seemed to find a way to bring them up in conversation.

“Call me that again, and I’ll have you fired, Allen,” she snapped. “Tell me what you want and get out.”

“I don’t think so,” said Allen. “See, I’ve been looking over the budget for your department, and it just doesn’t seem to add up. There’s nearly a quarter of a million dollars missing, Cow-Tits.”

“You’ve made a mistake,” said Vicky – even as she began to panic internally. “Give me the documents, and I’ll look into it.”

“No,” said Allen, “because we both know where that money is. It’s in your new house renovation, isn’t it? Because I don’t think your department had any legitimate reason to pay for – let’s see – a plasterer, and a tiler, and…”

Vicky went bright red. “What are you saying, Allen?” she asked.

“I’m saying I could get you fired, Cow-Tits – AND send you to jail,” said Allen.

Vicky pursed her lips. “So what do you want? Sex? Is that it?”

“No,” said Allen. “I just want you to help us out with the new bovine growth hormone you’ve been blocking.”

“Of course I’ve been blocking it,” said Vicky. “There’s no evidence that it’s safe for humans, if this hormone enters the food chain. And there’s no way we can ethically undertake human trials.”

“That’s where you come in, Vicky,” he said. “You’re going to be our test subject. And then you’re going to approve us going forward with the drug. All you have to do is show up for tests twice a week, and we can sweep this whole embezzlement thing under the rug…”

“I’m not going to be a test subject for cow drugs!” Vicky exclaimed. “Who do you think I am, exactly?”

“I think you’re a stupid big-titted cow,” said Allen, “and I think you’re the kind of cow who doesn’t want to go to jail…”

And there was very little that Vicky could say to contradict that.


Vicky had no idea if the experiments were always going to be this humiliating, or if Allen had asked for them to be especially degrading towards her. On her first day, the scientists in the lab made her strip naked, and they measured her breast size, cunt diameter, sexual responsiveness, and a range of other measures with no clear relationship to the trials they would be doing.

“As you’re aware,” said the head scientist, Mr Giles, “farms currently use bovine growth hormone – bovine somatotropin – to increase milk production in dairy cows. This is an effective treatment, and has no effect on humans who drink the milk or eat the meat of those cows. However, it has certain limitations – most prominently that its effectiveness is limited to the ten months after a cow gives birth to a calf, after which the cow must be re-impregnated.”

“I know this,” snapped Vicky, but Giles ignored her.

“What we’re aiming to do with our new drug is to induce a high volume of milk production all year round, without the need for pregnancy,” said Giles. “We’re confident that it works in cows, but we need to understand its effects in humans, to know whether it will be safe to drink the milk of these cows.”

He held a long syringe in one hand, and with the other he gripped Vicky’s exposed left tit. He winked at her – and then plunged the needle into her breast. Vicky squealed.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” asked Giles, with a smile.


Twice a week Vicky visited the lab, and twice a week Giles jammed a needle into her breast. He said it didn’t matter which tit the injection went into, but he alternated udders anyway.

And it didn’t take long for Vicky to notice changes. After the second injection, she started noticing an increase in her arousal. Her pussy would become wet at the smallest stimulus, or the slightest slutty thought, and remain frustratingly, distractingly wet until she found time to masturbate. She started spending longer and longer each day in a state of arousal – and it became harder and harder to think straight, under the influence of her throbbing, needy cunt.

By the third injection, she was finding it harder to get her work done, and was working back later and later each night just to correct the stupid mistakes she was making due to her clouded, horny mind.

By the fourth injection, her tits had begun to visibly grow and swell. To her alarm, she found she had gone up an entire cup size, and was lewdly overflowing her current bras. Her shirts were straining to hold her engorged udders, and on two different occasions she popped a button at work and had to hold her shirt closed with a safety pin.

“Look,” she said, on presenting herself for her fifth injection, “the drug clearly has an effect on humans. It’s not safe. Can we end these ridiculous trials now?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Giles. “We need a full course of information on exactly *how* the drug affects humans in order to make further changes and refine it – if, indeed, we choose to go down that route. Hold still.” And he plunged the syringe back into her titflesh, not bothering to conceal his enjoyment of her pain.

“But none of my bras fit me!” wailed Vicky.

“That’s all right,” said Giles. “We can provide you with new bras, that will be more suited to the experiment. In fact, we insist that you wear them.”

He showed her the bras, and Vicky hated them immediately, but she had no choice but to wear them. Either she cooperated with the experiment, or she went to jail.

The bras had a normal arrangement of straps over the shoulder and behind the back, but the differences started with a loop of elastic that went around the base of each tit. This constricted the breast, and made it bulge in a round, unnatural shape. It wasn’t quite painful – but it wasn’t comfortable either.

Then, instead of a cup that covered the breast, they only had a kind of shelf, which cupped each tit, lifting and supporting it like a push-up bra, but without covering the nipple or the upper titflesh. The whole arrangement did nothing but further emphasise the size of her already-large breasts, while pushing her nipples directly against the fabric of her shirts. And her nipples were almost always hard and erect now – and very visible through the fabric of her shirts.

A few days later, they became even more visible still – when Vicky began to lactate.

She didn’t even notice at first, until the men she supervised began to laugh at her. Vicky looked down and saw, to her horror, that there were large wet circles over each of her nipples. She was leaking milk into her shirt.

Someone behind her – she didn’t know who – made a loud, mocking “mooo” sound, and the laughter around her intensified.

Vicky had never been so humiliated in her life. She fled to her office, and called first Allen, and then Giles, begging to be released from this horrible experiment.

Neither had sympathy for her. In fact, Giles forbade her from deliberately expressing her own milk. She would be milked exclusively in the laboratory.

So at 4 pm each day, Vicky would now visit the laboratory. Giles required her to strip completely naked, and then he would get her to go down on all fours, and he would strap her into a metal frame. He would put a collar around her neck, with a cowbell hanging from it, and Vicky had no idea how this contributed to the science, but by that stage she was in no position to object.

Then large glass cups would be held against her tits, and a machine would start to rhythmically suck. She would feel her nipples vacuumed into the cups, the glass forming a firm seal against her udder, and her milk would be forcefully sucked from her breasts.

The machine was not gentle, and it was in fact quite painful – only a little at first, but more with each successive forceful pump from her tits. Vicky began to complain loudly.

“We can’t have you making that noise,” said Giles. “Would you like a gag, or pain relief, or both?”

“Pain relief,” begged Vicky – but the pain relief wasn’t a drug. Rather, it was another machine that they wheeled up behind her, with a plastic dildo on the end of a long metal shaft. The dildo was positioned at the entrance to her wet, needy fuckhole, and then the machine began to fuck it in and out of her in powerful, mechanical strokes.

Vicky, of course, did not immediately accept the idea of being publicly raped by a machine, and began to shout at Giles to take the device away – so Giles gagged her as well, with a pretty red ball gag.

And after a while, Vicky realised that this *was* pain relief. It felt good to have her cunt fucked by the machine – so good, in fact, that the pain in her breasts flipped into a kind of painful pleasure. Her mind went blank, and shortly afterwards she felt herself orgasming, and then orgasming again, as the milk was mechanically sucked from her udders.

She kind of lost track of her surroundings, and so she didn’t notice when her entire frame, complete with fucking machine, was wheeled out into the front office of the labs, where anyone who worked at the company could see her as they walked by. When she *did* regain her senses, and realised that dozens of men who she worked with every day had seen her naked, having her tits milked and her cunt raped by a machine, she orgasmed again – and it was a more powerful orgasm than anything the machine had given her.

After that, they didn’t bother giving her privacy for her sessions at all. They just injected her and milked her out in the public space.


If you enjoyed this story, you may enjoy my e-books The Milk Industry (link) or A Woman’s Work (link), both available for only $3.99 USD at my creator site! Your purchases support my ability to keep creating new, free content.


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