Jasmine stood outside the large, barn-like structure, her heart pounding in her chest. This is it, she thought, smoothing out the front of her shirt for what felt like the hundredth time. The job posting had been simple enough: “Milker Needed. No Experience Required.” At just 4’8”, her petite frame had always struggled to find work that didn’t involve standing on a stool or reaching for high shelves, so this seemed perfect. Milking cows can’t be that hard, she’d reassured herself. But now, as she stood there, the air thick with the faint scent of hay and something… different, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Her breasts, always a point of insecurity, felt heavy and constricted in her bra, the fabric struggling to contain their size. They were massive, each one larger than a basketball, their weight impossible to ignore. She’d spent years trying to hide them, layering up in baggy clothes, but today, she’d worn something lighter, thinking she’d be working in the heat of the stable. Wrong choice. Her nipples pressed against the thin material, and the slightest movement sent them jiggling uncontrollably. The door creaked open, and a woman in a white lab coat appeared, her eyes immediately zeroing in on Jasmine’s chest. Here we go, Jasmine thought, fighting the urge to cross her arms over herself. “Jasmine, right?” the woman asked, her voice smooth but clinical. “Y-yes,” Jasmine stammered, suddenly feeling like she was under a microscope. “Come in. I’ll show you to your station.” Jasmine followed her inside, the sound of her own footsteps drowned out by the low hum of machinery. The room was dimly lit, rows of strange contraptions lined up like something out of a sci-fi movie. Wait… are those… girls? Her eyes widened as she realized the machines weren’t milking cows at all. Each one had a woman strapped to it, lying face down, her body elevated slightly so that her breasts hung freely. Tubes were attached to their nipples, the sound of suction echoing through the room. “This… this isn’t…” Jasmine trailed off, her voice trembling. “It’s exactly what you think,” the woman said, her tone matter-of-fact. “We’re a specialized facility. Your body, specifically your… assets, make you an ideal candidate.” Jasmine’s face burned. Assets. She hated that word, but she knew what it meant. Her breasts, her damn breasts, were the reason she was here. “I-I can’t do this,” she said, taking a step back. “You already signed the contract,” the woman replied, her voice firm. “And trust me, you’ll be compensated handsomely. Now, let’s get you started.” Before Jasmine could protest further, the woman gestured to one of the machines. A man in the corner approached, his eyes immediately locked onto her chest. Of course, she thought bitterly. They always looked. Even now, in the middle of whatever this was, she couldn’t escape it. “Please,” she whispered, but the man didn’t seem to hear her. He guided her to the machine, his hands surprisingly gentle as he helped her climb onto it. “Lie down,” the woman instructed, her voice leaving no room for argument. Jasmine hesitated, her legs trembling as she lowered herself onto the padded surface. The position was awkward, her breasts hanging down, their weight pulling at her neck and shoulders. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly humiliated. “Relax,” the woman said, though her words offered little comfort. “This’ll only take a few minutes.” Jasmine closed her eyes, trying to block out what was happening, but the sensation was impossible to ignore. The man attached two suction cups to her nipples, the cold plastic making her gasp. Then, with a flick of a switch, the machine came to life, the suction relentless and unyielding. Her body reacted immediately, a strange mix of pain and pleasure coursing through her. This is wrong, she thought, but her protests died in her throat as the machine continued to work, drawing out something she hadn’t even known was inside her. Her breasts, already heavy, felt like they were being drained, the pressure slowly easing as the machine did its job. She opened her eyes, turning her head to see the man watching her, his gaze intense. “You’re doing great,” he said, his voice low and strangely soothing. Jasmine wanted to cry, to scream, to get up and run away, but she couldn’t. Her body felt like it wasn’t her own, the sensations overwhelming and impossible to ignore. The suction, the weight of her breasts, the warmth spreading through her body--it was too much. “Almost done,” the woman said, her voice cutting through the haze. Jasmine nodded, though she wasn’t sure what she was agreeing to. The machine continued to hum, the sound almost hypnotic, and she found herself sinking deeper into the strange, almost trance-like state. Her breasts, now almost empty, swayed gently with the movement of the machine, their size still impossible to ignore. “There,” the man said, his hands returning to remove the suction cups. “All done.” Jasmine exhaled, her body trembling with relief. But as she sat up, her breasts heavy and sore, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. “You’ll be back tomorrow,” the woman said, her tone leaving no room for argument. Jasmine nodded, though her mind was racing. What have I gotten myself into? As she climbed off the machine, her legs still shaky, she caught the man’s gaze again. His eyes were still on her chest, his expression unreadable. “You’ll get used to it,” he said, his voice softer now. Jasmine wanted to believe him, but as she walked out of the stable, her breasts aching and her mind spinning, she couldn’t help but

Jasmine, a petite woman with unusually large breasts, arrives at a barn-like structure for a job interview as a milker, only to discover that the job involves her being strapped to a machine and having her breasts milked. After initial hesitation and embarrassment, Jasmine is guided onto a machine by a man and a woman in a lab coat, who attach suction cups to her nipples and begin the milking process. Despite her discomfort and confusion, Jasmine endures the procedure and is told to return the next day.

Jasmine stood outside the large, barn-like structure, her heart pounding in her chest. _This is it_, she thought, smoothing out the front of her shirt for what felt like the hundredth time. The job posting had been simple enough: “Milker Needed. No Experience Required.” At just 4’8”, her petite frame had always struggled to find work that didn’t involve standing on a stool or reaching for high shelves, so this seemed perfect. _Milking cows can’t be that hard_, she’d reassured herself. 

But now, as she stood there, the air thick with the faint scent of hay and something… _different_, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Her breasts, always a point of insecurity, felt heavy and constricted in her bra, the fabric struggling to contain their size. They were _massive_, each one larger than a basketball, their weight impossible to ignore. She’d spent years trying to hide them, layering up in baggy clothes, but today, she’d worn something lighter, thinking she’d be working in the heat of the stable. Wrong choice. Her nipples pressed against the thin material, and the slightest movement sent them jiggling uncontrollably. 

The door creaked open, and a woman in a white lab coat appeared, her eyes immediately zeroing in on Jasmine’s chest. _Here we go_, Jasmine thought, fighting the urge to cross her arms over herself. 

“Jasmine, right?” the woman asked, her voice smooth but clinical. 

“Y-yes,” Jasmine stammered, suddenly feeling like she was under a microscope. 

“Come in. I’ll show you to your station.” 

Jasmine followed her inside, the sound of her own footsteps drowned out by the low hum of machinery. The room was dimly lit, rows of strange contraptions lined up like something out of a sci-fi movie. _Wait… are those… girls?_ Her eyes widened as she realized the machines weren’t milking cows at all. Each one had a woman strapped to it, lying face down, her body elevated slightly so that her breasts hung freely. Tubes were attached to their nipples, the sound of suction echoing through the room. 

“This… this isn’t…” Jasmine trailed off, her voice trembling. 

“It’s exactly what you think,” the woman said, her tone matter-of-fact. “We’re a specialized facility. Your body, specifically your… assets, make you an ideal candidate.” 

Jasmine’s face burned. _Assets_. She hated that word, but she knew what it meant. Her breasts, her damn breasts, were the reason she was here. 

“I-I can’t do this,” she said, taking a step back. 

“You already signed the contract,” the woman replied, her voice firm. “And trust me, you’ll be compensated handsomely. Now, let’s get you started.” 

Before Jasmine could protest further, the woman gestured to one of the machines. A man in the corner approached, his eyes immediately locked onto her chest. _Of course_, she thought bitterly. They always looked. Even now, in the middle of whatever this was, she couldn’t escape it. 

“Please,” she whispered, but the man didn’t seem to hear her. He guided her to the machine, his hands surprisingly gentle as he helped her climb onto it. 

“Lie down,” the woman instructed, her voice leaving no room for argument. 

Jasmine hesitated, her legs trembling as she lowered herself onto the padded surface. The position was awkward, her breasts hanging down, their weight pulling at her neck and shoulders. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly humiliated. 

“Relax,” the woman said, though her words offered little comfort. “This’ll only take a few minutes.” 

Jasmine closed her eyes, trying to block out what was happening, but the sensation was impossible to ignore. The man attached two suction cups to her nipples, the cold plastic making her gasp. Then, with a flick of a switch, the machine came to life, the suction relentless and unyielding. 

Her body reacted immediately, a strange mix of pain and pleasure coursing through her. _This is wrong_, she thought, but her protests died in her throat as the machine continued to work, drawing out something she hadn’t even known was inside her. Her breasts, already heavy, felt like they were being drained, the pressure slowly easing as the machine did its job. 

She opened her eyes, turning her head to see the man watching her, his gaze intense. “You’re doing great,” he said, his voice low and strangely soothing. 

Jasmine wanted to cry, to scream, to get up and run away, but she couldn’t. Her body felt like it wasn’t her own, the sensations overwhelming and impossible to ignore. The suction, the weight of her breasts, the warmth spreading through her body--it was too much. 

“Almost done,” the woman said, her voice cutting through the haze. 

Jasmine nodded, though she wasn’t sure what she was agreeing to. The machine continued to hum, the sound almost hypnotic, and she found herself sinking deeper into the strange, almost trance-like state. Her breasts, now almost empty, swayed gently with the movement of the machine, their size still impossible to ignore. 

“There,” the man said, his hands returning to remove the suction cups. “All done.” 

Jasmine exhaled, her body trembling with relief. But as she sat up, her breasts heavy and sore, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. 

“You’ll be back tomorrow,” the woman said, her tone leaving no room for argument. 

Jasmine nodded, though her mind was racing. _What have I gotten myself into?_ 

As she climbed off the machine, her legs still shaky, she caught the man’s gaze again. His eyes were still on her chest, his expression unreadable. 

“You’ll get used to it,” he said, his voice softer now. 

Jasmine wanted to believe him, but as she walked out of the stable, her breasts aching and her mind spinning, she couldn’t help but

Jasmine is hired to be "milker", little did she knew, it involves a lot of cum.

Jasmine's endless milking

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