The milk dispenser spent its existence standing alone in the kitchen. Sometimes the kitchen was light, and sometimes it was dark. It kept track of its life in terms of little, medium, and big moments.
Every so often, usually when the kitchen was light, Owner would stop by. She would knead the milk dispenser’s nipples to fill up her glass and then return to her study, leaving the milk dispenser cold and alone once more. It wished she would stay. But that brief time when Owner was nearby? Superb. Not just because of the physical pleasure of Owner’s fingers, but the emotional satisfaction of serving its function properly. Those little moments reminded the milk dispenser that it was useful.
Every so often, there was a medium moment. Owner would walk up, a syringe in her hand, and inject something into each of the milk dispenser’s jugs. “Regular maintenance,” she always called it. She would then massage each jug for a few moments before leaving alone once again. For a day or two after that, its jugs always felt heavier, as if its milk was ready to burst out at any moment. Those were the medium moments.
The milk dispenser could only recall one big moment. It was its first memory: the time Owner inserted her penis into the milk dispenser’s pussy. It had loved the experience, had wished it would go on forever. “This will help you function properly,” Owner had said. Sometime after that, the milk dispenser started producing milk.
Every time Owner milked it, it remembered that first time, that one big moment. The milk dispenser hoped Owner would do it again someday.