"Hey, Johnny Cakes, ready for your evening milking?" came Ron's voice as he opened the door.
I panicked, how could he know? I struggled to cover my udder with my hands, but it was useless.
"C'mon, Jon, you promised us milk fresh from the tap tonight, remember?" said Steve.
"Uh, I did?" I answered glancing at the Chronivac. There was something in the paperwork, I think that said
changes would be accepted as normal unless otherwise specified. I shrug, and cross my arms curious to see
what they'll do.
The next thing, I know I'm naked on the floor with a bucket under my udder and Ron is milking me. Damn, it's
so wrong, but it feels so good. I guess I must have cum a dozen times or more. At least that's what it felt
like. Each udder was like a cock. Ron worked two, and then Steve worked the other two. My body was slick
with sweat. I stood up with the empty bag that was my udder flopping against my thighs. Ron held filled five
glasses with the whitish liquid. It didn't really look like cow's milk. It looked more like come. Steve,
Chuck, Mark and Ron raised their glasses in a toast to me, and Ron handed me the fifth glass.
I took a drink of the warm liquid and almost spit it out.
"Damn, good man's milk!" exclaimed Ron licking his upper lip. "I'm lucky you're my roommate."
I swallow hard. They're all swilling it down. It's so gay. I grin, and sit down at the Chronivac. Four
minutes left before my udder becomes a cock again. I have to wonder if they'll keep drinking or freak. Then I
notice that there a four prospective subjects listed on the screen. Hm, this could be fun.