April 2021 Twitter Winner

TAGS: Ice-Cream, Mad Science, Milking, Milk/Lactation, Bottomless, Exotic Cum/Milk, Growth, Kidnapped/Bound/Captured

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He couldn’t sleep. It was one of those nights where he honestly just felt like taking a stroll, waste a couple of hours walking around town under the light of the stars, then come back to his place and hope that tired him enough that he could get some rest; besides, spring was just around the corner, and with the winter cold fading away, he could finally go out past sundown without having to worry about freezing half to death. Still, better to put a jacket on, even if it did hug his bust tightly enough that he could already feel the pressure mounting just from trying to get the zipper up over his tits; such was life. Anthony met with a couple of people on the way out, upstairs neighbors that were returning from wherever they’d gone out to eat dinner; as usual, a couple of courteous words and a friendly nod were all that the social contract required from him, and a few moment after that, he was safely out in the streets, alone with his thoughts and insomnia. It was a beautiful night out, no clouds in the sky to block the view of the stars, no wind to bite at him, and absolutely no one else that he’d have to share a sidewalk with, even if for just a single moment; it wasn’t as if Anthony was a loner, but in times like those, the last thing he wanted to do was engage in social interaction, especially given how late it was. No, his one goal was to walk around aimlessly, take a few laps around town, then go back to bed and hope to wake up early enough to go to work the next day, and to that end, he let his legs do most of the work.

It was always an interesting experience, allowing his muscles to determine where he was headed, while his conscious mind drifted off into the aether up above him. Anthony’s eyes were firmly stuck on the sky, observing the twinkling of the stars, thinking to himself that he should take a mental snapshot of what he was seeing so he could compare it to whatever it looked like a few hours from then; not that he was exactly an astronomy enthusiast, but he had to do something to keep himself occupied and at least try to use up whatever energy was still keeping him up despite it being well past midnight. He tried (and mostly failed) to identify the constellations up above, chuckling to himself as he realized just how little he actually knew of them; hell, he could barely even find the northern star, which didn’t bode well for whenever he inevitably got lost in his meandering and had to find his way back to familiar streets. And yet, despite this, he kept walking, even if he was no longer in control of the direction; better that he waste time doing so than sit somewhere and look upwards at formations he didn’t know the name of and a cosmos he barely understood. Thankfully, there was no one around to interrupt him… which was precisely why, after an indeterminate amount of time passed, the sounds of machinery brought him back down to reality and forced him to stop.

The noises were alien to him, especially at such a late hour. The town he lived in didn’t have any large factories anymore, and even if it did they were supposed to be closed down for the day; it took Anthony a while to realize he’d somehow managed to walk all the way over to the outskirts, where the old industrial area had been left to rot for the past few years after most of the companies either went bankrupt or decided to outsource the business to somewhere that paid people less. It’d been an immense blow to the local economy, and indeed plenty of people had to move out in search of better life opportunities, which then raised the question of why exactly one of the buildings there clearly had its lights on, and why there were noises coming from inside of it. Anthony looked around, finding the whole area to be deserted: no cars, no people, no signs of activity whatsoever; as far as he could tell, no one had even cracked open the front gate which blocked the main roadway into the industrial lot, leaving it an open question as to how the factory was even running at all. And while saner minds might’ve taken this as a sign that they should probably turn back around, chalk it up to some kind of unknown renovation project and try not to think about the inconsistencies too much, Anthony wasn’t that kind of person; when his mind fully returned from where it was wandering around and focused itself on that odd anomaly, the one thing he could think of was how exciting it would be to check out whatever was happening. It wasn’t as if he could be charged with trespassing, since no one technically owned that land and he heavily doubted the local police would care; take that and add to the mix his own curiosity, and one had the perfect combination of factors that led Anthony to rush towards the front gate, his hands already removing his jacket in order to give him a better range of motion.

It was difficult to climb with the sort of body he had, but he was going to give it his best shot anyway; in between his tits, full and heavy to the point where the jacket was better served gathering dirt on the ground than potentially having its zipper torn off, and his nuts, weighing down heavily between his legs, it made for an incredibly awkward bit of acrobatics that left Anthony feeling like he should exercise some more. Granted, the front gate wasn’t the easiest thing to climb over, but considering it was just barely taller than he himself was, he was clearly slacking off on his fitness and had to do something about that; still, a couple of frantic and flailing minutes later and Anthony dropped on the ground inside the industrial lot, just barely avoiding smacking his face against the tarmac. Getting up and rubbing his ass from the impact, he raised his eyes towards the factory, wondering just what might be happening in there: it was an old ice-cream manufactory, of a brand that had long-since been absorbed by a mega-conglomerate and had most of its products pulled off the shelves before having its talent cannibalized… a shame, really; Anthony quite liked their unique sandwiches. And yet, despite this, the lights were clearly on, the machines were clearly running, and he could swear he heard faint voices coming from within; at that point, the young man had convinced himself that this had to be some kind of salvage operation, perhaps in order to cut costs in construction by repurposing any abandoned materials still lying around. This of course meant he had to look deeper anyway; he hadn’t come all that way for nothing.

Carefully, Anthony made his way closer to one of the service doors, a faded sign on it letting him know it was for employees only. Curiously, it wasn’t unlocked, nor did age and lack of use leave it rusty and hard to move; in fact, all it took was him turning the knob for the door to swing open outwards with surprising ease, prompting both of his eyebrows to shoot upwards. This surprise was heightened by how loud the sounds became right after he opened the entrance fully, it being clear that there was at least one very loud person shouting orders at whoever might be within the facility. For a moment, Anthony actually hesitated to move further in, believing himself to be overstepping his bounds… and then took a step forward anyway, making sure to keep the door open behind him. The voice kept shouting, louder and louder as he walked through the access corridor towards a large, open door leading to the main factory floor, but the moment he actually turned the corner to try and see what might be going on, it suddenly went quiet. Like a switch had been flipped, the bellowing stopped mid-sentence, and only then did Anthony realize that he didn’t actually remember hearing any words as much as just disparate noises; the fact that there was no one there at all, and indeed the main open area was completely empty apart from an odd contraption on one of the far ends, didn’t exactly help things. His spine froze, and he already had one feet back, ready to springboard him into a sprint for safety when he heard something from up above.

Foolishly, he decided to look up instead of jumping back and bolting out of there, giving him just enough time to see what looked to be a series of mechanical arms tipped with large claws descending upon him. He got a single yelp out before they completely encircled him, grabbing hold of his arms and legs, pulling him up into the air as he ineffectually struggled to free himself from their grasp. All he could was yell, hoping that someone would hear him, but he knew this was for nothing; no one was out in the streets that time of night, especially not around the industrial area, so barring another insomniac dumb enough to walk into an obvious trap, he was done for. All he could hope for was that whoever had set that up was feeling merciful, which, considering he could feel the metallic claws dig into his skin through his clothing, didn’t exactly feel all that likely. Anthony gulped down a few tears and steeled himself for what was to come; no matter what may come, he had to be strong, lest he find himself breaking down when he needed his courage the most.

He was brought over to one side of the factory floor, travelling through the air as the assembly of mechanical graspers moved via a ceiling-mounted rail system; sparks flew in every direction as the overburdened bearings struggled to move the weight of both the tangle of arms and a fully grown adult male, which left Anthony feeling terrified that he might just be dropped on the ground severa, feet below and end up smushed underneath what felt like a ton of steel. No such luck though; instead, he ended up being pressed against the wall next to the weird-looking machine he’d seen off the corner of his eye, the immense amount of artificial appendages creating such a thick nest around him that he couldn’t see anything past it. They were suffocating him, though whether or not this was intentional or just a temporary restraint would have to come with time… and as the seconds passed and the pressure didn’t let up, Anthony began to wonder if he should try to find some god to pray to. Thankfully though, the tangle of arms pulled back just as unexpectedly as it had appeared, leaving only four to hold his limbs against the wall with enough strength that he couldn’t move them around even an inch, and opening his field-of-view just enough that he saw him: the one who trapped him.

Or, at least, that’s who he assumed the man was; who else would it be, walking towards him with their hands behind their back, a victorious grin on their face and looking as if they were so sure of themselves that they probably walked into dark alleyways without looking behind their back? Though, it was hardly a man he was seeing; rather, it was a kind of human-like fox thing dressed in a lab coat and wearing what looked to be gold-embroidered regalia underneath, creating a seriously mismatched look that threw Anthony for a loop in the few seconds it took for him to make sense of what he was even looking at. The fox-thing began clapping, revealing a set of large hands with dangerously sharp-looking claws, his toothy grin similarly displaying some very intimidating chompers. And yet, when they spoke, it was the calm demeanour of a businessman discussing their latest acquisition, or perhaps a scientist speaking to a particularly beloved data sheet.

“Oh, how long have I waited for this opportunity!” they declared, seemingly to themselves, “For months and months I’ve waited for you to wander close enough that I could snatch you up, and at long last, my efforts have bore fruit!”

Anthony tried saying something, but before he could get a single word out, the large vulpine crossed the distance between them with a single flash step and pushed one finger against his lips, shushing him thoroughly. The young man could tell that, beneath the grandiose display and the seemingly professional outlook lay… something else. He didn’t know whether it was anger and rage or something more dangerous like scientific curiosity, but this attitude of theirs was nothing if not a ploy, something to be put on in order to lure him into a false sense of security. It was amazing how much it was actually working.

“You see, you’ve kept your nature well enough hidden from everyone around you, my dear Anthony,” the scientist (?) spoke up again, “but I know better. I know you’re not a child of this Earth, and I also happen to know what sort of power you have inside of you, waiting to be unleashed upon this world.”

They punctuated this statement by unceremoniously poking both of Anthony’s breasts with their index fingers, prompting them to make some incredibly suspicious sloshing noises that Anthony himself hadn’t heard in quite a while; had the arms injected him with something to stimulate lactic production? He didn’t feel anything while being carried through the air, but he wouldn’t put it past this maniac to try and do something like that… especially considering they apparently knew he was an alien? How in blazes did they find that out?!

“Honestly, I find your insistence with keeping your cream inside of you and not giving it out to anyone who might want it to be… wasteful,” the vulpine carried on, turning their attention towards the machine to their side, “I’ve been keeping a close eye on you for some time you see, enough that I actually managed to gather some samples of your… excedent. A couple of lab tests were all I needed to confirm that you, my delicious friend, could help revolutionize the industry if only you so wanted; that you insist on living a perfectly mundane life away from your true calling is nothing short of baffling, but not to worry! I’m here to fix that.”

That was a threat. There was no other way to interpret those words as delivered in that tone, Anthony was no longer in control there… though what exactly that person was talking about was still so utterly confusing to him that he couldn’t help but open his stupid mouth again and ruin his blissful ignorance.

“What… w-what industry?”

The look offered by his captor was one of utmost confusion; for a fleeting moment, Anthony genuinely felt bad that he didn’t know the answer to a question that, judging by that expression, was supposed to be self-evident… at least until he remembered what was going on with him and was brought back down to panic. Still, the vulpine approached him once again, unceremoniously cupping both of his breasts with their hands, squeezing his bust hard enough that Anthony could feel as its contents began to spill out; he’d definitely been injected with something if he was lactating that hard already.

“Why, ice-cream of course!” the kidnapper replied, as if this was a perfectly normal response to give, “You see, I’ve been searching my entire life for what you might call the perfect flavour, purely for commercial purposes you see, and despite my best efforts, I’ve only ever reached… approximations” - their face dropped, true sadness covering it for a fleeting moment - “Delicious approximations, successful ones at that, but not amount of money can ever truly sate the need for innovation you see; it didn’t matter if I move from victory to victory when cornering the market, because what was the point of it all if I couldn’t ever accomplish what I set out to achieve? I ended up spending so much in R&D that my own board of directors kicked me out; told me that I was wasting company funds in fruitless endeavours.”

The vulpine spat on the ground, snarling as he turned around to face the contraption to his side once more. Knowing better than to interrupt them, Anthony remained quiet, trying his best to look at what that thing was while simultaneously dealing with the noticeable increase in pressure within his own breasts; he was leaking openly now, with the sugary scent wafting from the droplets of cream being the only evidence he needed to know that the man (?) was serious when they talked about their goals.

“Fruitless! Bah!” the fox-thing scoffed, waving his arms around wildly, “The fools wouldn’t know perfection if it stuck its boot up their ass and rammed it all the way up to their mouths! But you… you, my delicious friend, you will help me prove once and for all that such a thing as the perfect flavour can exist! Honestly, I don’t exactly know why your body makes milk with those flavours, but at this point, I don’t think I really care; just as long as you keep making it, then I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

There wasn’t a hint of irony in those words, nor even a threat; as far as Anthony could tell, his captor was completely serious, which just raised a series of uncomfortable questions that he wasn’t sure whether he wanted answered: how long was he supposed to stay there? Would he even be allowed to leave? Was he going to end up stuck to a milking machine for the rest of his life, to be used as the basis for a new brand of ice-cream? It all felt so surreal that he didn’t know where to even begin, hence why when he opened his mouth, all he managed was a shaky:

“Don’t I have any say in this?!”

“Of course you don’t, don’t be silly,” the vulpine dismissively responded, “what, are you going to tell me you don’t believe me either?”

“N-No, I believe you, that’s the problem!” Anthony insisted, not quite knowing where he was finding the courage to shoot back like that, “W-what if I don’t want to be milked?”

A single eyebrow was cocked on his captor’s face, the look they gave him cold and icy enough that Anthony could feel his spine freezing just from glancing upwards, forcing him to glue his eyes to the ground like a misbehaving child. How so much power was packed into a simple stare was something he didn’t want to think about, and thankfully, he wouldn’t have to; just as he was getting ready to plead some more, the vulpine pulled a lever on the machine, and with a loud, metallic grind, a pair of mechanical arms descended from the ceiling, their grapplers effortlessly tearing through Anthony’s t-shirt and exposing his sodden bra underneath, only to rip that off as well. With his tits now free, the young man could tell that they were clearly swollen, at least a couple of cup sizes over what their size usually would be, and leaking profusely onto the ground; this was obviously something that his captor wasn’t going to tolerate, as he began working on the machine’s control panel. A few seconds later, a large plate on the side of it slid open to reveal two large suction cups mounted on the top of thick, metallic tubes, both of which the vulping picked up and quickly placed onto Anthony’s chest; the clear glass domes were quite a bit bigger than even his swollen tits, enough that they didn’t quite fit him properly, but judging from the serene look on his captor’s face, he figured that they probably had a plan for that as well. Indeed, after using the two free mechanical graspers to hold the cups in place, the vulpine pulled open one side of their labcoat and produced a small, stainless steel case; with a click, it opened, revealing a set of syringes filled with a clear liquid.

“Now, obviously, we can’t expect you to produce enough for the first batch on your own,” they explained, closing the case and pocketing it again, “so I’m afraid we’ll have to make some modifications; don’t worry, these are strictly temporary, and you should only see some residual growth after they wear off in two to three weeks. In the meantime, please try not to struggle.”

They didn’t give Anthony enough time to react before carefully jabbing the syringes on opposite sides of the young man’s bust, the fluid chilly as it was forced inside… and, just barely seconds later, immediately triggered its chemical reaction. Anthony could do little but grit his teeth and bite his tongue to hold back the sudden need to moan, as the sense of pressure became overwhelming and began to spill over, somehow, into the outright pleasurable; he remembered feeling this a few times, way back when he still allowed his tits to fill up and didn’t actively take measures against it, so to suddenly have it happen again, and in such an accelerated rate was… suffice it to say, it made the next step in the vulpine’s plan much easier, because they were clearly not going to be satisfied with his tits alone. In fact, no sooner had Anthony’s breasts begun to swell, filling the inside of the suction cups to capacity as they inched forwards at an alarming pace, than the vulpine bent down and ripped off their prisoner’s pants, exposing Anthony’s well-sized bulge and the obviously erect cock tenting his boxer briefs. Licking his lips, the mad ice-cream maker turned to the machine again, kicking a hidden panel open to reveal a third, more elongated suction cup, one that was very clearly intended for a far different part of Anthony’s body; the poor guy barely had a second to react before he felt his underwear be torn off as well, cock firmly lodged into a glass tube that, too, was far too big for what he had offer. Again the metal case clicked and again a syringe was produced, again it was jabbed into one of his sensitive areas and again Anthony felt the cold turn to pressure turn to heat, as his dick began to swell to sizes it had never reached before. Acting quickly, the vulpine produced what looked to be a small plastic ring, split it into two and then clipped it just under their prisoner’s base, separating Anthony’s nuts from his cock.

“Something to stimulate production,” the self-styled scientist explained, lightly tapping both of the balls in front of his face, “better if we keep some distance between your producers and the output vent, if you know what I mean. Now, I understand what you’re feeling might be a bit more than you’re used to, but I can assure you, this is only temporary; as soon as I’ve collected enough raw material for my newest flavour, we’ll move onto your first break before the second draining session. Is that alright?”

It was hard to tell if they were being serious or not anymore, though not from any change in tone; rather, Anthony was finding it impossible to focus when he had to contend with his cock growing, his tits bloating and his nuts suddenly filling far past capacity, all while he was being actively milked on the former two, the sensations he felt coursing through him overloading his pleasure receptors and leaving his mind a mess of emotions that he couldn’t even begin to put to words or explain. He knew he shouldn’t like it, knew he should fight back against what was happening and demand that he be set free, but as he looked down at himself and saw his tits being so massive that he had to crane his neck to the side just to watch as his cock became as long as his torso… how could he not want more? It was probably all the chemicals running through his system, plus the fact that he was literally being drained by uncaring machines and that just happened to tick a few boxes on his preferences list, but Anthony really couldn’t focus on wanting to escape anymore; he had all-but surrendered to the pleasure of it all, with the remaining source of resistance being little more than an encircled holdout slowly being whittled away by an endless onslaught of raw, unfiltered carnal bliss.

Everything past that point was a haze, with Anthony’s eyes going half-lidded from the strain of trying to even remain conscious, with the only thing stopping him from succumbing entirely to the sheer overload of pleasure being the fact that it existed in the first place; he couldn’t just go under and miss out on everything when he was so generously gifted the ability to experience heaven on Earth by this random, generous stranger. He wasn’t thinking about the fact that his tits and cock were being actively milked for their creamy contents, nor did he pay much attention to the insane ramblings of a fox-man-thing who he couldn’t really care less about; the only thing in Anthony’s mind was the weight, the heft, the knowledge that if he bothered to look down, all of that force tugging on his back would be explained away as just a pair of tits bloated to the point where they covered most of his torso, each one producing milk with a distinct flavour, each one forced to output and produce at its absolute maximum. He vaguely recalled one occasion where he’d been like that, and it took weeks of him not milking himself for his bust to fill up so much; plus, it started to shrink as soon as it began venting all of its stored cream, rather than the perfect equilibrium of filling and emptying that those mounds had achieved after being injected with whatever was in those syringes. Down below, the same could be said about his nuts, both of which had already reached the floor from the ridiculous amount of similarly-sweet-flavoured cum they were producing and storing; he only had one cock after all, and the tubes could only take so much, so after a certain point he just became… pent-up. The reason for the plastic ring became clear, as the separator forced his actual nutsack to sag away from his dick, creating a thin connector of muscle, skin and sinew in between the gigantic rod of cockmeat on top and the enormous beanbag-sized pair of balls underneath. The goal was obviously to stymie the flow and force him to fill up as much as possible, but again, Anthony didn’t care; as long as the sensations kept coming, as long as the pleasure was heightened still, that was all that mattered.

How long was he even in there for? He could swear that he fought against his own exhaustion for what felt like hours, no longer trying to rest but actively fighting against his own brain shutting down, hoping to hang on for just a moment more, that he may live through that impossible experience for just a while longer. He couldn’t fall asleep, he wouldn’t fall asleep, wouldn’t collapse… but as much as Anthony tried, and try he did, he had his limits. He was already stretching things out by going out for a walk, so even after a valiant effort to try and force his brain to remain active, there came a point where he simply ran out of energy reserves, and promptly crashed. Not that this actually stopped the ice-cream maker from continuously pushing his body for as long as it could go, mostly because they didn’t even realize their test subject had finally collapsed from exhaustion; it took quite a while before they noticed that, and even then they still went on for a bit before finally turning the machinery off.

Anthony woke up an indeterminate amount of time later, though given the shine of the sun on his face, it had clearly been several hours since he was last conscious. There was a certain amount of silence around him, broken only by the occasional sounds of liquid sloshing about, awakening a few memories within his tired mind; he recalled something about going out to have a walk, something about a factory, something about ice-cream? They were all foggy, vague recollections, none of which he succeeded at piecing together before his brain booted up properly and his eyes opened, revealing that he was stuck to a wall, standing up, and had a bunch of machinery plugged onto him; suddenly, everything that had happened the night before came rushing back in, the small mental barrier his brain erected for its own protection collapsing under the slightest amount of pressure… enough that the tubes had to contend with a couple more loads of his cotton-candy-flavoured cum after he woke up enough to process sexual pleasure again. He could scarcely believe that it hadn’t been a dream, that it had actually happened, and, worst (best?) of all, that he was still stuck there and the weird fox-man-thing wasn’t anywhere near him; was he supposed to just stand there, feeling as his pillowy tits and that couch of a nutsack of his began to fill up again, never to receive any attention? He wasn’t even thinking of getting out, he just wanted someone to turn the machine on and take care of all that pressure he was suddenly feeling!

“Oh, you’re up! Good,” came a voice from his left: the vulpine had returned, still dressed the same, though their ruffled fur might indicate they’d gotten up from a nap recently, “I had to go out for some coffee after I had a rest. Glad to see you’re still rearing to go though.”

Anthony didn’t like that smile.

“Ready for the second phase?”