Milk Drunk
Beth could scarcely believe her eyes. When she saw the job advertised online, she'd fully expected it to be some kind of scam. She'd sent off her application on a whim, expecting no reply at best and a bunch of spam at worst. Instead, a rather professional email with a number of documents and an online appointment form had appeared in her inbox. Even a few weeks ago she would have dismissed the idea but she was getting desperate and if there was even a chance this was a real job, she had to take it. The risk had paid off so it seemed because here it was;
The Hathor Foundation.
Instead of some crumbling shed out of a slasher flick she was greeted with a grand estate surrounded by rolling fields of green grass. The gilded gateway open and welcoming, they even had pamphlets and a sign directing her up the stone pathway to the entrance. Still uncertain, she took out her phone, opening the original email and rereading the opening lines to ensure she hadn't misunderstood anything.
'The Hathor Foundation is dedicated to the production and promotion of high-quality breast milk for a variety of purposes! In this era of formula costs skyrocketing, we are here to ensure no child will go hungry. Or adult for that matter. As a healthy alternative to cow's milk, we here at Hathor want to destigmatise the consumption of human milk and compensate those women who provide it.'
The pamphlet then went on to discuss the health benefits of breast milk, how it was better for the environment and how their group came to exist but that was of little interest to Beth. What she cared about was the compensation. She'd been out of work for months now, in fact she'd used the last of her pocket change to get a bus out here. Selling breast milk was a little strange but at this point it was either this or becoming a street walker.
She pushed open the door to the opulent building and was met with a reception. In contrast to the stately stone manor the inside looked almost like a doctor's office. Complete with those trashy magazines strewn across the coffee table. The woman behind the desk looked up from her computer and gave her a warm smile.
"Hello there, Beth perchance?"
"Yes, that's me." She was still so bewildered this place was real she almost forgot to reply.
"Did you get our welcome package?" The woman asked, typing away "we sent it to... an email starting with Smitten Kitten?"
Beth felt her cheeks flush. Instead of her regular email she'd signed up with her old college one, as she did with all sketchy sites. She could hardly change it now though, what was she supposed to say?
'Sorry I used that email because I thought you were a scammer who was going to flood my inbox with spam'?
That would go over really well, she was sure.
Even after she'd opened the welcome email and selected a day to come in, she'd been too suspicious to open any of the attachments.
"I uh, I booked in my appointment but I didn't see any information about the whole process." She stammered before adding, "I'm not very good with techy things."
A boldfaced lie but it was the sort people always believed from her without question. When they saw a bubbly blonde with big tits giggling about how confusing computers are they just smiled and nodded as if that was exactly what they expected her to say. This woman was no exception, simply handing over several papers with a sympathetic wince.
"Why don't you take a seat and read over them while we wait for one of the doctors to be available?"
Beth almost skipped over to the couch. The fact that this place was real and her money troubles were over, at least for a little while, buoyed her. The documents explained the process and it actually seemed legitimate and fairly scientific. A few days here of controlled diet and hormone shots would stimulate production, then she would spend two weeks being pumped three times a day and paid depending on the output. Her smile widened, not only was she going to get paid for sitting around letting a machine do all the work but she'd get room and board as well!
Interesting part covered she skimmed the rest of the legal documents; pages of tiny font and esoteric words she was too excited to properly comprehend. After flicking through for a few minutes, she felt her eyes beginning to glaze with boredom and she signed the dotted line at the back. Nobody actually read the terms and conditions these days anyway, not even for this sort of thing. There couldn't be anything that important in there anyway, if there were side effects how bad could they possibly be?
~
After a while the receptionist informed her a doctor was ready to see her and she was show down a corridor and ushered into an office. She felt her suspicions return slightly; the man who greeted her looked about as far from a doctor as she could imagine. Tall, muscular and tanned, he looked ready to step onto a runway, if it weren't for the white medical coat around his shoulders Beth would have assumed she'd walked into the wrong room.
"Welcome Beth, I'm Dr. Randall Cranston, but you can call me Randy. I'll be over seeing your stay here."
He held out a hand and she shook it, despite his looks he certainly sounded professional. His bright eyes sparkled, were she a few years younger and less experienced Beth may even have swooned.
"Let's start with your physical exam."
She blushed, somehow, she'd just assumed the doctors conducting anything like that would be female.
"Don't be shy." He gave her a trusting smile, "I'm a professional, women's bodies are my field of study."
Of course, she just had to treat this like a regular doctor's physical. Despite the clinical nature she still felt awkward stripping off her clothes in front of a strange man. Randy had politely turned his back, not that it made any difference as he was going to see everything anyway but Beth appreciated the gesture nonetheless.
Swallowing down her nerves she told him she was ready. True to his word Randy's gaze was professional as he turned, looking her up and down the same way a coach looked at his athletes and she began to relax. At least he wasn't some letch. She stepped forward as he motioned to her, allowed him to take her weight and measurements, doing her best not to blush when he wrapped the tape around her breasts.
"You're just the sort of woman we are looking for," he smiled, "well developed. What's your cup size?"
She stared at him incredulously for a moment before he added.
"For the pumping machines, we need to ensure the suction is secure but not painful."
"Oh," that was so obvious now that she thought about it, "24C."