It Does a Body Good II

"How are you, Brenda?"

"I'm good, Mr. George. Thank you." Brenda smiles brightly at her employer. She's not sure why she's been called into his office this afternoon. Her shift's about to start, and she really should be getting ready to go out onto the floor. She can't think of anything she's done wrong, so she's pretty sure she's not in trouble.

"Good, good," Mr. George says pleasantly. "Take off your top and your bra, please."

Brenda immediately pulls her shirt over her head and deposits it on the floor. She reaches behind herself and unhooks her bra, then very gently pulls the cups away from her breasts. She can't quite contain a wince when she takes away the underwire that's been supporting her heavy, sensitive tits. She slides the straps down her arms, then lets the bra drop on top of her shirt. Under Mr. George's watchful gaze, Brenda rolls her shoulders back and sticks her chest out.

"Look at you," Mr. George says, "your breasts are bared and you automatically present yourself. You don't even think about it anymore, do you?"

Brenda frowns. What an odd statement. She's topless and in the presence of a man; of course she should make sure she's showing herself off to her best advantage. "Sir?"

"You're a very good girl, Brenda."

Brenda can't help but preen a little. She tries so hard to be good and do as she's told, and it's nice when her efforts are acknowledged.

"But even though you're a good girl, you still need to keep listening to your relaxation CD."

"Yes, sir."

"Because your CD helps you to be a good girl. Your CD makes you happy." Mr. George puts his elbows on his desk and leans forward. "And do you know what else your CD makes you, Brenda?"

"What, sir?"

"Obedient. Listening to your CD makes you obedient. It makes you want to do as you're told."

Brenda nods. She does like following orders. Thinking for herself can be so hard, especially when she's working and most of her mind is taken up with how good it feels to expose herself to so many men.

"And you like following orders, don't you, Brenda?"

"Oh, yes. Very much."

"And since you like following orders, and your CD makes you follow orders, you--"

"I need to keep listening to my CD," Brenda says quickly. Mr. George smiles at her, and she feels so happy.

"Good girl," Mr. George says again. "So, I asked you in here because I wanted to check on your progress. Your mind seems to have accepted your new role in life, and, from the looks of things, your tits are about ready to do so as well."

Brenda flushes and looks down at her chest. "You really think so? I've been doing everything I'm supposed to. I've been taking the herbs, and using the pumps you gave me."

"I know you have. I can tell." Mr. George pushes back from his desk and pats at his lap. "Come here."

Brenda's breasts jiggle as she eagerly moves from her chair to Mr. George's knee. Her breath quickens and she shudders when he cups her right tit. Mr. George's large hand gently lifts the flesh, like he's testing its weight, then he starts to rhythmically squeeze it, starting near the chest muscles, and moving towards her nipple.

"Look at you," he says. "Look at these. Do you remember what these looked like when you first came here?"

"Yes," Brenda says.

"Firm and perky," Mr. George says, "with tiny, delicate looking light pink nipples." He applies more pressure, and Brenda gasps. "And now look at them."

Brenda looks. Her breasts are round, full, and heavy. Blue veins are clearly visible just underneath skin pulled tight by the new growth of her mammary glands. And her nipples. There's certainly nothing delicate looking about her nipples anymore. Her areolas are puffy and had spread across a good portion of the ends of her breasts, and the nipples themselves had almost tripled in size. Brenda thinks they look like two red, ripe raspberries sticking out from her chest. The never lie flat anymore. They've become an inconvenience, really. They're always hard and poking out through her clothes.

"But there's a reason for that, isn't there?" Mr. George says, making Brenda realize she had been speaking her thoughts out loud. "Your nipples have to be nice and long so the men suckling you can have something to latch onto."

"Oh, I know, Mr. George." Brenda gasps as the hand that had been massaging her breast, light smacks at it instead.

"This is not yours anymore," Mr. George says as he tugs on Brenda's nipple. "This stopped being yours when you decided that you wanted to start producing milk."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"I know, Brenda. It's all right. It seems you still have a little bit to learn." Mr. George resumes his massage, but he switches to Brenda's other breast. "I'm going to give you an order. Are you paying attention?"

"Oh, yes, sir."

"Good. Every time you look down at your chest, or feel those long, thick nipples press against your bra or any clothing, you're going to think about how these aren't really breasts anymore; these are udders. Glorious, milk-filled udders that you've developed for the enjoyment and nourishment of the men you're going to be servicing."

"Oh," Brenda says breathlessly. Udders. She looks down, and, yes, she can see that.

"Every time, Brenda. Your breasts are udders. Your nipples are teats. Until I instruct you to think otherwise."

"Yes, sir." Brenda's eyes are locked on her udders. Big, heavy udders. With long, thick teats.

"What are they?"

"Udders and teats, sir."

"Good girl. Such a good girl. It's all right if you sometimes think of how they used to be breasts, and what they used to look like. It's all right, even, if you think about how much you used to like them when they were smaller and not functional."

"They'll never go back to they way they were, will they?" Brenda asks, almost absently, still focused mainly on her udders.

"I told you before you started this journey," Mr. George says. "No. If you ever decide to stop producing milk, they'll go down in size, of course, but they'll never be the way they were before. And your teats, well, those you're stuck with. But, I think... Yes, you like the way your teats look."

Brenda blinks a few times. "I do?"

"Yes, of course you do. You like that they're so long and that they're hard all the time. You like when they poke out through your clothing."

"I like that my teats are long and hard. I like that they poke out through my clothing."

"Good girl. I want you to remember that every time your attention is drawn to them. And your attention is drawn to them a lot, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes, sir. I think about my teats all the time."

Mr. George chuckles a bit. "Oh, Brenda. You are a gem. I think you're going to be with us a very long time."

"I'm going to be with you a very long time."

"Good girl."