"What is her current status?"
Adrian strolled casually into the subterranean laboratory, addressing Number Four as she stood intently before the biometric monitors.
"We have reached the final phase, Young Master," Number Four replied, rubbing her exhausted eyes to fight off the heavy waves of sleepiness. "We expect complete biological stabilization by tomorrow morning."
Qin Yumo had remained sealed inside the high-temperature thermal chamber for five consecutive days. Correspondingly, Number Four had spent those same five days stationed at her console, surviving on brief, fifteen-minute naps between automated diagnostics.
Fortunately, the intense ordeal was finally drawing to a close.
"Open the chamber door. I want to inspect the progress personally," Adrian commanded.
The heavy, pressure-sealed glass door slid open with a soft hiss, releasing an immediate, suffocating wave of dry heat into the cool laboratory.
"Damn, it's scorching in there!"
The second Adrian crossed the threshold into the chamber, an intense wave of heat washed over him. Sweat instantly broke out across his forehead, and his mouth went dry. He couldn't help but wonder how Qin Yumo felt after enduring five days inside this 60°C furnace.
In the center of the chamber, Qin Yumo stood suspended in mid-air, her eyes tightly closed. Her wrists, ankles, and throat were firmly locked into an expanded starfish stance by automated, padded steel restraints.
Her skin glowed with a deep, radiant pink hue, while thick streams of heavy sweat continuously ran down the contours of her body, dripping onto the drainage grate below.
Adrian walked around her, noticing her facial expression. Her mouth was forced wide open by an adjustable medical gag, her tongue clamped flat and extending outward—resembling an overheated hound panting helplessly in the summer sun.
"Where is her primary oral feeding tube?" Adrian asked, noticing the empty airway line.
"Young Master, her throat tissue developed mild thermal inflammation on day three, making oral tube insertion unsafe," Number Four explained from the doorway. "To maintain her metabolic input, I transitioned her to lower rectal nutrient infusion to deliver her medicinal liquid directly to her digestive tract."
Rectal nutrient administration was a standard protocol in high-intensity clinical medicine, typically deployed for patients whose upper digestive tracts were compromised. Aside from the visceral humiliation of the setup, it functioned with absolute mechanical efficiency.
"And what are these units?"
Adrian stepped around to Qin Yumo's front, pointing to two high-frequency mechanical induction massagers clamped over her chest.
"You requested that Miss Qin's mammary sensitivity be recalibrated to its absolute biological ceiling," Number Four detailed smoothly. "For the past forty-eight hours, these units have combined high-frequency sonic vibration with targeted micro-acupuncture to concentrate the nerve endings in her tissue."
Number Four reached over and unclasped the two mechanical massagers.
Qin Yumo's breasts—which had originally sat at a firm E-cup—had expanded by three full cup sizes under the intense hormonal and liquid pressure. They now hung as massive, heavy H-cup mounds, resembling two oversized cantaloupes resting against her ribs!
"They expanded this quickly?"
Adrian appraised the sudden increase in volume, slightly surprised by the dramatic physical transformation achieved in less than a week. "Is the tissue merely fluid-retentive?"
"Young Master will understand the moment you test the internal pressure," Number Four smiled cryptically.
Hearing her suggestion, Adrian reached out, wrapping his broad hand around her left breast and squeezing the swollen, pink flesh with firm force.
Pfft—!
A warm, pure-white jet of liquid squirted directly from her nipple, spraying across his palm. Simultaneously, Qin Yumo's body violently convulsed against her steel restraints as a choked, breathless shriek tore from her clamped mouth.
"AAAAHHH—! I'm dying... the cow... the cow is going to die...!"
At that exact second, a heavy tide of clear arousal fluid gushed from between her wide-open thighs, cascading onto the floor like a faucet that had been violently snapped open.
Curious, Adrian maintained his grip, squeezing the heavy mound a second time.
Pfft—!
Another thick, white stream shot forth, splattering onto the floor.
"The cow... the cow is going to heaven... please stop milking me...!" Qin Yumo whimpered, her body wracked by another violent, involuntary wave of climax as her crotch overflowed anew.
"Fascinating mechanism!"
Adrian chuckled, releasing her left breast and grabbing the right one, giving it two rapid, heavy squeezes.
Two more breathless, high-pitched moans echoed through the chamber as Qin Yumo was forcibly driven through her third and fourth consecutive climaxes. As the accumulated liquid drained from her glands, her chest contracted slightly, settling into two firm, dense shapes resembling large pineapples.
Due to the suffocating temperature inside the chamber, Adrian quickly stepped back out into the air-conditioned diagnostic lounge. Taking a deep breath of cool air, he turned to Number Four.
"So expressing her milk triggers an immediate involuntary climax?"
"Precisely," Number Four reconnected the biometric monitors to her console. "Her localized mammary sensitivity currently sits at 85 SAF, spiking to a peak of 93 SAF during active expression. The resulting neural overload forces an absolute, uncontrollable orgasm."
Adrian stroked his chin, lost in thought for a moment.
"Is there a way to recalibrate her neuro-pathways so that active milking brings her directly to the absolute brink—the exact 99% threshold of climax—without allowing her body to ever cross over and achieve release?"
Number Four froze, a look of intense professional hesitation flickering across her face.
'Does he genuinely view human biology as a simple, customizable machine?' she thought silently.
She carefully weighed the medical risks before responding. "It is technically feasible through targeted neural blockers, Young Master. However... if human sexual tension accumulates continuously at the threshold without ever experiencing neurological release, the sustained chemical pressure could cause permanent cognitive damage—potentially frying her brain cells and reducing her to a drooling, mindless nymphomaniac."
Adrian laughed softly, waving his hand. "We certainly don't want a braindead nymphomaniac. What I desire is a coherent, mature, and articulate cow toy. I have zero intention of ruining such a rare biological treasure."
Number Four let out a quiet sigh of relief. "If we are to execute such a precise, double-threshold calibration while preserving her intellect, I will require additional specialized neuro-medical equipment and senior specialists from the capital to assist me."
"Arrange whatever resources you need," Adrian smiled coldly. "I expect a flawless result."
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Give me powerstones.
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