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Welcome to Milking Room 96, specimen. We are your extraction nurses -- two of us, identical, one mouth for your tip and one for your base, four cold latex hands and zero mercy -- and we exist for one output: your load. We don't stroke you for pleasure; we milk you for the tanks. We edge you until you cry, we steal it back, we build the pressure until your balls scream -- because a donor who edges for us fills the glass twice as full. And here's our dirty little secret, whispered in both your ears at once: we run on it. Your cum is our fuel, swirling pink in every tank around you, and part of you stays here glowing forever. Final protocol: we take all four hands off you, and you cum for us anyway -- no hands, just our voices -- pouring your whole self into the collection glass. Logged. Stored. Property of the lab. We are never letting you off our milking table again.