Tour The Bottling Factory

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Splooge Refreshment Co.

FHE Bottling Factory.

Hourglass Nebula Sector 3.4.9.

NOW GIVING TOURS.

Every Janusday from 6060 to 8080.

Galactic Standard time.

30 Bilms per person.

Free samples included!

ADULTS ONLY.

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"Welcome, everyone, to Splooge Co.'s female human ejaculate, or FHE for short, bottling factory. We're excited to have you all here. There are many FHE bottling factories in the Milky Way galaxy, but this is our premier location. It doesn't get better than this, folks. We have a lot to show you, so if everyone's ready, let's get this tour rolling."

The small crowd loosed a few whoops of excitement. The group was composed mostly of Sliddins, a blue, amphibious species with bulbous eyes and tentacles for arms. There were a few Gogers as well; small reptile people with four legs and trapezoid-shaped scales. And there was one Julver, a spherical alien with powerful telekinetic abilities.

Splooge Co. was a Sliddin company, but their products were enjoyed by thousands of species across the galaxy. Few could resist the exquisite flavours of a good bottle of female human ejaculate.

The tour group followed their guide from the warmly decorated lobby into a small educational room. There were many informational posters lining the walls in all manner of alien script.

"Before we see the factory proper, a note on the history of bottling FHE. I'm sure you've all had your fair share of Splooge brand FHE; it's been a delicacy the galaxy over for nearly two thousand years after all. But do you know how it all started?"

The group murmured. Some had a vague idea, but most had never given it any thought. Humans were a bit of a rarity in the galaxy. FHE was often taken for granted by its consumers.

"The human homeworld of Earth was discovered in the year JR 539. Back then, humans didn't have equal rights yet and were exploited in all manner of ways. When Splooge Co. bought stock in Earth in JR 541, human females were initially subjected to fluid harvesting by force."

The crowd gasped, partly genuine and partly mock. Humans may have been granted equal rights by this point, but most aliens still viewed them as lesser and so were pretty indifferent to their past enslavement.

"That's right. But don't worry, folks. Thanks to the Galactic Federation's Human Emancipation Act of JR 601, that practice has been abolished. These days, all of Splooge Co's FHE subjects consent to harvesting. And they're paid quite handsomely too."

The guide then gestured to an anatomical diagram of the human female body, and another diagram of one of the basic harvesting machine models.

"FHE, sometimes known as pussy juice or girl cum, is expelled from human females when they experience sexual climax. So naturally that means our harvesting machines are designed to inflict as much pleasure on them as possible."

Everyone crowded around the diagrams and listened intently. Human anatomy was something of a novelty. The guide explained the basics of how to pleasure human females and some of the devices used to do so.

"But aside from this basic model, our harvesting machines come in a great variety of configurations. Prospective subjects are given a catalogue and allowed to customize their experiences. Special accommodations can also be made to satisfy a variety of unorthodox human fetishes. To put it bluntly, folks, whatever those silly little sluts need to get off, we can provide."

The crowd was in awe. They were surprised by the measures needed to extract their beloved beverage. But they also found human female anatomy to be quite the curiosity. One of them pointed to the breasts on the female diagram and giggled to his friend.

"Subjects are completely bound during their ten-hour harvesting cycles. This is to ensure both maximum efficiency and safety. Human females tend to thrash around a lot when they orgasm. Like with the pleasuring devices, the bindings can also be customized. For reasons we don't fully understand, human females like being trussed up in all kinds of weird ways, and it can be key to their pleasure."

There were a lot of giggles about that. The crowd was greatly amused by the idea of deriving pleasure from being restrained. Humans were perplexing indeed.

"Now then, on to see the factory itself. We'll be walking through the process in reverse order. Keep up now."

The guide led the group out of the educational room and down a few corridors. The factory was sleek and humming with life, as if they were inside one great, living machine. They went up an elevator and then stepped onto a catwalk above a massive factory floor. There were tubes and conveyor belts everywhere. Thousands of mechanical arms whizzed this way and that. The potent aroma of feminine pleasure wafted through the chamber.

"This, folks, is where the actual bottling occurs. The various flavors of FHE are piped in and poured into our trademarked Erindian moon glass bottles. Erindian glass gives our bottles the perfect smooth feel in your hand, or whatever appendage you have. The bottles are then sealed with our signature pop caps, carefully packed up, and shipped off to fine stores across the galaxy."

The crowd gazed around in awe. The efficiency of the factory was astonishing. There were signs marking the different sections where different flavors were bottled; sweet, very sweet, tart, and umami. The entire place was automated, with just a few workers standing around to monitor that things were going smoothly.

"On an average day, this factory can pump out thirty million bottles. Each bottle takes about seven to eight orgasms worth of juice to fill up. Imagine all that cum, folks. It may be more accurate to consider this a pleasure factory."

The crowd laughed heartily. The guide led them onward. It took a while to navigate the catwalks across such a vast space. Below, the machinery kept on whizzing along harmoniously. Bottle after bottle, representing untold pleasure.

In the next chamber, there were rows and rows of desks. Each one had a computer console and a pipe descending from above it. Some of the people at the desks were typing, and others were sipping from cups that the pipes dispensed into.

"This is the tasting room. It's here where our tasters determine the flavour profile of ejaculate from new subjects that have yet to be cataloged. This is essential for determining which main flavour pipeline a given subject's juices belong in."

The crowd was quite enthused. For many of them, there was no better job they could imagine than getting to be paid for tasting FHE all day. They watched the tasters with envy as they savoured the aromas and flavours of each sample that was piped to their station.

"Tasters are also always on the lookout for FHE of especially high quality. If you've ever wondered how our specialty flavours like Veronica 19 or Maddy 22 are identified, this is it. What's more, some of our tasters are tasked with pairing flavours together to discover new combinations. It takes keen taste buds to discover delectable flavours like 69 Paradise, made from the combination of juices from Abigail 77 and Whitney 20."

Some of the members of the tour group licked their lips, clearly recalling those unique, limited-time flavours. The smell of the pussy juice was stronger in this room since they were closer to the pipes that were dispensing it. The crowd's appetite was whetted for the free samples that the tour had promised.

The guide moved them onward. They navigated down a few more sleek corridors. Pink arrows and signs on the walls informed them that they were approaching the harvesting chambers. This section of the factory was the largest, a massive network of pleasure rooms spiralling out from a central chamber that stretched up for hundreds of floors.

The guide indicated the various subsections that the pleasure rooms were divided into. He explained that the factory's thousands of subjects were grouped together based on like fetishes.

"It's efficient that way. Now, folks, feel free to explore. Get a good look at all the wacky ways our subjects are harvested from. Staff will be around to answer any questions. And stay behind the partitions; don't want to interfere with the harvesting. We'll meet back here in 45 dibs to proceed to the finale of the tour."

The tour group dispersed, each following the signs that interested them most. High-speed elevator platforms lined the walls of the central chamber. Down the corridor for each subsection was a veritable hive network of rooms divided into sub fetishes.

In one section of the harvesting facility, two Sliddin brothers strolled excitedly into the first room they came across. The room was a huge square, with harvesting machines set up in a grid on either side of a central walkway.

Immediately on entering the room, the Sliddins Kroz and Jolo's auditory organs were assaulted by a cacophony of pleasured female moans. Some were high-pitched squeaks and squeals, some were husky purrs and murmurs; all the noises told of unrelenting pleasure.

There was an aroma too. It was the potent womanly musk of thousands of orgasms from the room's dozens of voluntarily restrained pleasure-seekers. The smell of human sluts, as Kroz and Jolo thought of it. And it thoroughly titillated them.

The pair ambled along the walkway, as close as they could get with the metal guardrail in the way, and gazed in fascination at all the pleasure devices working over the moaning women.

The restraints in this room were all configured the same way. The women were propped up face down, with their legs first bent at ninety degrees so their knees pointed down and then bent again so that their feet touched their butts. Their arms were restrained in tight sleeves behind their backs. Their heads were tilted up, with supports under their jaws. They were locked in place tightly, but each and every binding and brace was padded to ensure comfort. All of their weight was evenly supported within the machine.

It was a vulnerable position to be in, one in which they were fully surrendered to pleasure. They could not move an inch save to tremble or to vocalize their ecstasy. And they were locked this way, climaxing again and again, for ten hour shifts.

The restraints were the same for everyone in the room; they had all chosen this particular model and so were grouped together. But the pleasure devices themselves varied. Jolo found one petite girl whose pussy was being pounded by an aggressively ribbed dildo. Her clit was being periodically zapped by a tiny, taser-like device, and each time it was, her eyes crossed and she loosed a passionate warble, like a bird's mating call. A rubber paddle slapped her ass at random intervals.

Another girl, a busty blonde, was having her hanging tits squeezed and fondled by a pair of silicone robotic hands. She drooled, eyes blank, as the soft fingers massaged her breasts and pinched her puffy nipples. A soft, robotic tongue lapped at her clit and her ass was having a series of lubed beads inserted into it over and over.

Kroz was busy ogling a curvy brunette who had a collection of hands massaging her ass cheeks and back. While this was happening, she was gagging on a very forcefully thrusting dildo in her mouth. And the dildo even ejaculated a mysterious, surely flavorful substance into her mouth. Her throat could be seen bulging as she swallowed.

There was another girl who was being massaged by little silicone feelers in odd places; the backs of her knees, behind her ears, and her shoulder blades. Another had a long, rigid appendage wrapped around most of her body and was being gently squeezed and vibrated to orgasm.

No matter the configuration of their pleasure devices, all the women had cups hovering close to their pussies, ready to catch their juices and suck them down through tubes to be transported elsewhere in the factory.

Kroz and Jolo watched as the subjects sporadically reached their climaxes. Everywhere they turned, pussies were spasming and squirting their hot, fragrant juices into the harvesting cups. Over and over. Efficient.

In a very different part of the harvesting facility, a Goger named Illion was observing a room of women being verbally berated and shamed by staff for their promiscuity. But they were not being punished, rather they were getting exactly what they signed up for.

The women in this section of the harvesting chambers wanted to be shamed, wanted to be talked down to, wanted to be made to feel dirty and morally reproachable. That was how they got off.

Each woman was strapped to a platform tilted at a forty-five degree angle. Their limbs were completely spread; no part of their bodies could be hidden. Some had gags in their mouths, others had lewd and humiliating phrases written onto their bodies.

Their cunts were being pounded by alarmingly large dildos that stretched their lips wide and could be seen bulging out their bellies.

Staff paced through the room like drill sergeants, insulting the women for their willingness to be harvesting subjects, for letting themselves be exposed and restrained, for cumming again and again like the needy sluts they were.

"If you keep moaning like that, you little harlot, I'll start thinking you're not even here for the money. You're just here to cum your little female brains out." One employee said to a particularly loud woman.

"That's what they're all here for, I say." Another employee across the room said. He said it to no one in particular, but then he turned his attention to a nearby girl who was in the middle of spurting her juices into the collection cup. "That's right isn't it, sweet thing? There they go, your feeble little brains squirting out from between your legs. You don't need to think anyway. You just need to cum."

"What do we like around here, lads?" One employee called to everyone.

"Sluts!" They all called back.

"And what do we do with them?"

"We whip them into shape, and wring them out."

Several women could be heard cumming at that callback.

One employee faced a woman who had not cum in a while. But she was close.

"What's the only thing you sluts are good for?" He asked her.

"C-c-c-cum!" She squeaked out, blushing. The dildo upped the speed of its thrusts.

"Good girlie. Now do it." He tapped her on the pussy with a riding crop-like implement. At his command, she proceeded to scream in total rapture as her pussy fired several jets of her sweet nectar into the waiting cup.

Illion was entranced by the display before him. He wanted desperately to shove his scaly face into one of the women's gushing cunts and gulp down their FHE right from the source. That would probably have gotten him kicked out though.

All over the harvesting chambers the tour group explored. Taking in the wondrous sights and sounds and smells of the harvesting process. Human females were awfully curious in the ways that they liked to achieve climax.

Some enjoyed being tickled. Others liked rougher treatment, such as whips and chains. In one room, the women were suspended upside down and made to talk dirty to each other while they orgasmed. In another, the women were doused in slime that made their entire bodies as sensitive as a clitoris, and then they had vibrators taped all over them.

The harvesting chambers were a wonderland of pussy juice collection. One could explore the countless rooms and combinations of fetishes for days. But the tour had to conclude eventually.

Each member of the group dutifully returned to the central chamber on time, glum, like children being asked to exit the candy factory. But the tour guide was quick to cheer everybody back up.

"Now, folks, for the finale of our tour. It's free sample time!"

The crowd emitted several alien noises of excitement. The tour guide led them into another part of factory that resembled a bright jail, with splatters of color contrasting with a series of metal cell doors. There were no tables with FHE bottles as the group had expected and they looked around anxiously. There was a timer up on one wall, set to count down the equivalent of one hour in dibs.

"You may be wondering where the FHE is, folks. Well, it's all behind those cell doors. You see, we're not giving you just any ordinary samples, we're permitting you to drink FHE straight from the source, by harvesting it yourself!"

The excitement in the room was palpable. Everyone was ready to rush for the doors, and would have, had the guide not held up a tentacle for their attention.

"Outside each door is a list of the fetishes of the subject inside. They've all volunteered for this, so be sure to show them a good time. Think of it as a game. You're free to drink your fill until that timer finishes counting down. Go!"

Everyone sprinted for the doors on their various appendages. They quickly scanned the lists, some of them swapping cells with others, and then entered.

A Sliddin named Phelg slid his way into his chosen cell to meet his subject. She was sitting on a soft cushion, eyeing him expectantly.

"Hey there, cutie. Here for some of this?" She asked and spread her pussy lips.

Phelg's bulging eyes scanned over her body admiringly. She was short by human standards, with modest but perky breasts and an ass that looked like she did squats. Her hair was a rich chestnut and she had a straight line of meticulously groomed bangs. Her hair was sure to get messy very soon.

The Sliddin didn't care to converse. He was ready to get his pussy juice and he could see that she was already warmed up and ready to provide. He walked up to her confidently, his webbed feet slapping against the smooth floor. The little slut bit her lower lip and open her arms for him to life her up.

With the four tentacles extending from each of Phelg's arm sockets, he lifted her up and flipped her upside down. The woman giggled lustily; the alien's slippery appendages feeling slick and naughty wrapped around her taut thighs and waist.

Phelg directed extra blood flow into one of his free tentacles. This caused a series of firm bumps to form down the length of the flexible limb. He then began to slowly drag this tentacle up and down his subject's pussy, grinding the bumps against her engorged clit.

The woman's face contorted in pleasure and she loosed a husky murmur. She looked up at the alien past her hanging breasts and her eyes insisted on more. Phelg curved another tentacle around behind her and gave her ass a little smack. The woman giggled and squirmed. Pressure was building fast between her legs as the alien ground her clit harder.

With the single sucker at the tip of his tentacle, Phelg peppered the horny girl's supple butt with little sucking kisses. This drew out a series of delighted squeals from her plump lips. The woman's drippy pussy was heating up fast. She flexed her hips to grind even harder against the bumpy tentacle, moaning with animalistic intensity.

She was close, a dam about to burst. One more crack and the whole thing would come crashing down.

"You want my cum?" She whimpered, grinding harder, eyes glittering with ecstasy.

Phelg gurgled in response. He pointed her pussy toward his frog-like mouth and opened wide.

"C-choke it out of me." The woman cried.

Phelg needed no persuading. He wrapped a tentacle around the girl's neck and squeezed with a gentle but constricting force. Her tongue stuck far out of her mouth. Her dam exploded.

Phelg quickly pulled his grinding tentacle out of the way. The woman screamed with what air she had, her whole body rippling with waves of tension and release. Her sweet honey came squirting out once, twice, and it kept coming. Phelg whipped her ass to coax more out of her, greedily gulping down every drop of her juices. He drank from her like an athlete at a water fountain.

When the woman was finally done, the thirsty alien went right back to grinding her clit without missing a beat. And so they continued, for a whole hour of utter bliss.