LACTOGENESIS XI
THE CONTEST
After signing up at the registration table, Chris and Sherri
were hustled backstage to a overly small dressing room where about ten
other women of varying ages, degrees of sobriety, and bust size were
milling about, waiting for the wet T-shirt contest to start. During
this time the alcohol they had consumed had fully taken hold, and
Chris in particular was feeling the effects to the full. Absently she
wondered whether her altered biochemical balance had affected her
tolerance level. She didn't remember getting this tipsy the last time
she'd had four drinks. She looked at the T-shirt the man at the
registration table had thrust at her. At least a size too small, of
course, thin material, of course, and white, of course, so that it
would become transparent and attach itself to her skin when it got
wet. It was a tank top, like a man's undershirt. Chris giggled when
she remembered how the registration guy had stared at Sherri's ample
cleavage but hadn't even given Chris a second look. He'll notice me
in *this*, she thought.
Sherri was already beginning to pull off her top. "Hurry up
and change. They're getting ready to start." In a flash Sherri was
naked from the waist up. Even though she and Chris had been sexually
intimate only a few hours before, this was the first time Chris had
seen Sherri undressed. Her breasts were nowhere near as firm as
Chris's, but they were at least fifteen years older, and they weren't
lactating (yet, but that would change if Sherri had anything to do
with it). Her nipples, however, were still years away from pointing
to the floor. A line connecting them would have been almost exactly
halfway between her shoulders and her bush. The left breast was
slightly larger than the right. A faint sprinkling of freckles spread
downward across her chest and between her breasts. An even fainter
line of downy hair, the same color as that on her head, traced its way
south from her navel to disappear into the waistband of her slacks.
Her armpits were unshaven. Chris suppressed a naughty urge to reach
out and tweak Sherri's nipples, and instead began unbuttoning her
outfit. It was then that she realized that her clothing was in one
piece. Removing it would leave her pantsless! That thought concerned
her for only a moment, however, as she stepped out of it. She giggled
again when she remembered the age-old parental admonition regarding
wearing clean underwear. She had on a pair of red satin tap pants
which showed off her toned thighs to great advantage. Maybe this
little edge will help me win, she thought. As Chris removed her bra,
she noticed that her breasts didn't move at all under the force of
gravity. She stole a quick touch to one and felt the heat, the
stretched skin, and a swelling that even pressed back into her armpits
slightly. Man, I'm really full, she thought. The alcohol must be
affecting my control a little. She felt Sherri's eyes on her and
looked up.
"Damn, hon, you look even bigger now than you did this
afternoon," Sherri said. There was a slight slur to her speech.
"You're going to knock that crowd on its collective ass."
Chris wriggled into the T-shirt. The front of it stretched
taut, pressing tightly against her bosom. Chris had to use a mental
exercise to keep from leaking as a result. The armholes of the shirt
were too large, so that fully half of her breasts were visible from
the sides. The snug fit felt good, and her nipples responded
appropriately, forming well-defined 3/4" peaks through the thin
fabric. Sherri was shaking her head and muttering something about not
having a chance against a rack like that. Suddenly the music out
front stopped, and was replaced by feedback by an ill-placed
microphone.
A balding, bearded, overweight man in a too-small T-shirt
emblazoned with the words "LET'S GET WET" had taken the stage. He
motioned offstage for someone to turn down the gain on the mike, then
shouted (unnecessarily), "All right, people, it's time! Are you ready
to get wet?!" Chris was surprised at the volume of the yell that
followed. The club must be packed. The man continued, "Outstanding!
OK, will those lucky gentlemen who won the drawing earlier tonight
please come up onstage!" As four men practically fell over one
another to climb the short stairway, the announcer yelled, "These guys
have won the coveted honor of getting to wet down our contestants!"
He gestured to one side, where a small table held four seltzer
bottles. "Don't worry, ladies, these are at room temperature!" As the
contest winners each took a bottle and assumed positions equally
spaced along the width of the stage, the M.C. reminded the crowd of
the prize money and made a few announcements about upcoming events.
He started getting booed, so he wisely stopped, turned to where the
women would enter the stage, and shouted, "Let the games begin! Our
first contestant... "
Chris was seventh in line, Sherri sixth. Most of the
contestants turned out to be rather poor dancers, or almost too drunk
to even stand up, but the crowd didn't care. As soon as the seltzer
hit the shirts, causing them to effectively disappear, the din became
a continuous roar whose decibel level rivaled that of a jet engine.
The heat of the lights, the deafening sound, and the alcohol were
combining to strengthen Chris's re solve with each candidate who left
the stage. I'm going to win this thing, she said to herself. I'm
going to blow these amateurs away. Never mind that Chris was an
amateur herself...
It was Sherri's turn. She turned and winked at Chris, then
practically slithered onto the stage. Within seconds it became
obvious that she had done this before. Sherri launched into a
gyrating, cock-stiffening dance, sometimes skillfully dodging the
blasts of water, sometimes seeming to drape herself on them. She
regarded the crowd with a scalding "fuck me" look as she paraded up
and down, her breasts bouncing freely to the beat of the music. The
noise level increased even more as she moved to the edge of the stage.
She bent down low so her boobs swung to within millimeters of the
faces of the men in front. They screamed their approval. Just as her
music was ending, Sherri grabbed the T-shirt at the neck and ripped it
down the middle. Her breasts sprang free as the crowd bellowed. She
cupped them, pointed them at the audience, blew them a kiss, and
skipped off stage. The room went up for grabs. No question who was
in first place now!
LACTOGENESIS XII
THE CONTEST
PART 2
Chris stood stock still, stunned by Sherri's performance. Her
iron resolve melted away. How in the hell am I going to top that? she
thought frantically. She felt a hand on her shoulder as the
contestant behind her gave her a gentle push. She was on! She cursed
the alcohol for slowing her thinking as she used a little go-go step
to move out to center stage. What to do, what to do?? Through the
alcoholic haze and the wind-tunnel sound blasting at her ears,
Sherri's voice suddenly sounded in her head: "You need to start
feeling better about this gift of yours. If you've got it, flaunt it,
kid..." A sudden rush of adrenaline filled Chris as she knew what she
would do.
She glanced about her, gauging the positions of each of the
men with the seltzer bottles. They raised them almost simultaneously
and took aim. At that moment Chris stopped dancing, thrust her palm
outward, and screamed loud enough to be heard over the din, "NO!!
STOP!!"
The men held their fire and glanced uncomprehendingly at one
another. The gleeful shouting of the audience turned to yells of
displeasure. The music stopped. Finally the M.C. took the mike and
said, "Little lady, this is a wet T-shirt contest. You got ta get
wet!" The crowd thundered agreement. Chris just smiled knowingly.
"Just keep watching!" she yelled back. She signaled to the
D.J. to start the music again. It was a slow, seductive number,
perfect for Chris's plan. She clasped her hands behind her head,
thrust her elbows out, and began to slowly move her hips in a circular
pattern. The angry shouts slowly began to transform back into wolf
whistles as she continued. Chris leaned her head back against her
hands, interlocked behind her neck. She began going through the now-
familiar series of mental steps that would unleash her own private
biochemical miracle. It was more difficult than usual due to the
level of distractions around her, but somehow she was able to put the
crowd out of her mind. She concentrated on the rhythm of the music,
the oscillations of her body as she danced, and of course, the
increasing tingling in her teeming breasts. She thought of a mountain
stream, the trickle of rain down a gutter, water pouring from a tap.
Deep inside her head, brain structures responded. Hormones flowed.
Glands secreted. Milk ducts expanded. Mammary sinuses filled. Tiny
muscle cells contracted. "Let it come," she whispered to herself.
"Let it come..."
Some of the audience members started yelling at the seltzer
bottle guys. "Go on, let her have it!" one shouted. The man closest
to Chris raised his bottle again, took aim, and... stopped cold. "What
the hell?" was all he could manage to say.
For Chris's shirt front was beginning to get wet, seemingly of
its own accord. Round blotches of moisture appeared at her nipples,
which instantly became visible as the thin white fabric covering them
became soaked. The blotches expanded at amazing speed, spreading
outward to cover her entire chest. Within seconds the entire front of
the shirt was sopping wet and glued to Chris's torso. She continued
to gyrate belly-dancer style, her head thrown back, deaf to the drop
in volume from the audience as they gradually stopped their shouting
to stare in disbelief. Her fantastic breasts moved from side to side
as she danced, gushing away inside the T-shirt until the saturated
fabric could hold no more. As she flicked her upper body back and
forth to the music, white droplets began to fly free of the sodden
cloth. As she always was during a particularly powerful letdown,
Chris was riding the crest of the wonderful feeling of release, of
almost orgasmic pleasure, that squirting her milk provided. She was
totally oblivious to her surroundings, taken up completely in her own
little pleasure dome.
"My God, that's milk!" someone near the front of the stage
shouted. A wild cacophony of exclamations, some rapturous, some
disgusted, filled the club. "I don't believe it!" "Have you ever
seen anything like that in your life?" "Oh, God, that's disgusting!"
"Oh, man, I'm in love!" You name it, someone was shouting it. From
the crowd's reaction one would have thought that an extraterrestrial
stripper with three tits had just come onstage.
The weird standoff between Chris and the stunned crowd lasted
only a few seconds more. Chris, in her reverie, felt the wetness
covering her upper body, smelled the musty sweet odor of her milk as
the hot lights tried to evaporate it. My clothing is wet, she thought
instinctively. I should take it off. She unconsciously grabbed the
T-shirt at the waist and in a swift motion pulled it over her head.
With nothing to hold back the flow, her bouncing boobs spouted forth,
sending a white fountain well into the first few rows of seats.
People leaped up from their chairs as if scalded.
At that moment, there was a wet crash as a seltzer bottle hit
the floor. Chris's eyes were closed, so she didn't see the man who
dropped it as he pounced upon her, his trembling hands grabbing for
her bosom. She suddenly felt a powerful arm around her waist, bending
her backwards painfully as it drew her forward. A probing, panting
mouth sought out one spraying nipple, while a hand like a steel trap
closed on the other. For a split second, Chris couldn't decide
whether to scream or to give herself over to the intensity of these
additional stimuli. Her alcohol-induced stupor cleared instantly, and
she opted for the former. She brought her knee up hard, but the man
was bent over frantically trying to suckle her and so it missed its
mark. Her fingernails raked across the sides of the man's face, but
he was so far gone with lust that they had no effect. After what
seemed like an eternity she felt two more powerful hands on her as one
of the club's bouncers tried to pull her away. Another bouncer, a
huge beefy fellow, pried her attacker's hands away, picked him up like
a rag doll, and threw him off the stage. He landed on top of a table
and sprawled unconscious on the floor.
There were screams, people running, men shouting. Chris was
unable to sort any of it out as she let herself be half-carried off
the stage by the bouncer. She felt someone, Sherri maybe, throw a
towel over her as she was herded through the surging crowd toward the
dressing room area. She heard a door close, and relative silence
descended. She felt her butt being placed rather unceremoniously into
a chair. She blinked away the last vestiges of her drunkenness and
looked up to see Sherri and the bouncer bending over her, concern on
their faces.
"Are you all right, miss?" he asked, in a voice pitched
comically high for a man that size. Chris nodded slowly. "If you
don't mind, then, I'd better get back out there." The bouncer left,
leaving Sherri behind. She slowly straightened up, hands on hips, and
fixed Chris with a withering stare.
"Jesus Christ, lady, what the fuck do you do for an encore?"
she demanded, partly in jest and partly in anger mixed with relief.
Chris sat mutely for a few seconds, then began laughing and crying
simultaneously. Tears rolled freely down into her open mouth as she
tried to guffaw and sob at the same time. Sherri held Chris's
shoulders until she regained control of herself.
"I don't know what came over me out there," Chris said
incredulously. "You had done such a great job that I had to think of
some way to top you, and letting go was the first thing I thought of.
I had no idea that would happen! I was so drunk..." Her voice
trailed off and she just sat there, clutching the towel, shaking her
head.
"You were cutting loose for the first time in God knows how
long," Sherri said. "Who can blame you for getting a little carried
away? You were almost killed a couple of months ago, for chrissake.
I think this was just a subconscious attempt to yell 'fuck you' at the
Grim Reaper."
"You think so? Maybe you're right. That certainly wasn't the
old me out there tonight, that's for damn sure." Chris sniffled and
wiped her eyes. "I was out there spraying milk on people! 'A little
carried away'? Jeez, I guess so! I think I'd better watch my alcohol
consumption more closely from now on. Gin and oxytocin don't appear
to mix very well."
Sherri located their clothes and handed Chris hers. "I think
we'd just better get dressed and get out of here. The sooner we're
clear of Decade Eight, the better off we'll be."
A clean getaway was not to be, however. The two had just
buttoned their last buttons when the door opened again. This time the
contest M.C. came in, a jacket draped over his LET'S GET WET T-shirt.
"I'd like a word, if I could," he said somberly.
Oh, shit, here it comes, Chris thought. I'll bet he's called
the police. I wonder how this is going to get written up? She
imagined herself spending the night in jail, and felt her limbs go
cold. She was therefore very confused when the M.C. suddenly broke
into a wide grin.
"I gotta tell you, that was hands-down, absolutely, no-
bullshit the goddamndest thing I ever saw. Most unique wet T-shirt
contest it's ever been my pleasure to have hosted. You and your
friend here really turned this place on its ear. First night open,
too, wouldn't you know." He reached into his jacket pocket and took
out two wads of bills. He handed the larger of them to Chris, the
other to Sherri. "Here's your prize money. Congratulations. I also
have to tell you, though, that the management has asked me to ask you
never to participate in a similar activity here again. You'd get us
shut down for sure! Just take the money and go home, please." He
looked toward the door. "It's pretty well calmed down out there, but
if I were you, I'd go out the back way." He started to leave, then
turned at the door for a last long look at Chris. "Goddamndest thing I
ever saw," he said again, and was gone.
Chris and Sherri didn't say another word to each other until
they got back to their apartment building, and even then it was just a
cursory good night. Chris was already beginning to feel the
beginnings of a hangover as she collapsed fully dressed into bed, one
hand still clutching her $250 first prize. She was going to have to
think about what had happened at Decade Eight this night, but later,
later. She was so tired. Within moments, she was snoring softly.
LACTOGENESIS XIII
THE PHONE CALL
A thin film of sweat covered Christine's face. Her hair,
where it brushed against her neck, was also wet with sweat. Her
breathing was heavy, bordering on panting. Her breasts heaved and
shook with the effort. Her hips surged in a rhythm that was steadily
increasing. Faster, faster... Chris tossed her head back, grunting in
synchrony with the movements of her lower body. She was quickly
building toward her peak...
A tone sounded. The Stairmaster stopped speeding up and went
into the cool-down phase of the workout program. Chris groaned in
relief as she felt the burning in her legs gradually subside. She
used the towel draped around her neck to wipe away the sweat that
threatened to drip into her eyes. Not bad, she thought. I'll be
maxxing this thing out before long.
She heard the warbling of the telephone, but decided to let
the answering machine pick it up. She wasn't cooled down enough and
feared cramping if she suddenly stopped now. A different kind of tone
sounded as her recorded greeting ended and the machine awaited a
response. It was a couple of seconds in coming. The voice issuing
from the speaker was halting, almost tentative.
"Chris? Uh, hi, it's Carl. I'm, uh, I'm really sorry I
haven't called you before now. I heard about your accident and have
been meaning to get in touch, but business is really booming these
days, and uh, well, you know how it is. Anyway, I'm in town for a
couple of days meeting with some people about a new product line, and,
uh, well, I'd really like to see you while I'm here. Would you mind?
I know it's been a long time, but I'm not sure when I'll be in the
area again. Boy, you'd think a salesman would be used to answering
machines, but I still hate these things. Uh, I'm at the Sheraton
until Tuesday afternoon. I'd sure like to have dinner, talk, uh,
whatever. Give me a call, OK? Hope we can get together. Bye."
Chris hopped off the Stairmaster, crossed to the answering
machine, and replayed the message to make sure the voice was who she
thought it was. My God. Carl Banks, she thought. Back from the
dead. Tail between his legs, too, by the sound of him. Quite
unbidden, Chris's memory called up the file, up to now thought closed,
on Carl Banks. He and Chris had met at a health club, back when that
was *the* place to meet "swinging singles". Could it be almost three
years? He was working as a semiconductor salesman at the time; she
was still at the paper editing copy. Their relationship had been
tempestuous, exhilarating, spontaneous, and almost entirely physical.
It had lasted five months before he got an opportunity to move up the
corporate ladder and took it. He'd left for the other side of the
country almost without a word, and hadn't been in touch since. She
smiled sourly when she replayed him saying he was still a salesman.
So much for upward mobility, she thought. She remembered the pain --
she had been something of an old-fashioned girl then, a one-man woman,
and even though there wasn't much more than sex to their relationship,
she had enjoyed it, and had not appreciated the abrupt way it had
ended.
Her finger hovered over the "erase" button as she considered
what to do about Carl. She noted with some satisfaction that there
was no trace whatsoever of any feelings for him; there would be no
regrets if she didn't return his call. Still, her curiosity was
piqued. Whatever else Carl had been, he had been pretty good in the
sack, and it had been, after all, a long time since Chris had gotten
her ashes properly hauled. The incident at the Decade Eight Club
three weeks before had shaken her up more than she'd thought. The
attack by the crazed seltzer guy had been too close to rape for
comfort, enough so that she'd not been out with a man since. Carl was
a pretty safe bet. Chris hit the "save" button instead and started
getting ready to shower.
As the water cascaded over her and she ran the bar of soap
over her body, Chris suddenly realized that Carl would have no idea
about what she looked like now, or better still, what she could do.
As far as he knew, Chris was still a woman with a rather ordinary body
and rather ordinary sexual habits. Wait'll he gets a load of these,
she thought slyly. She squeezed her boobs playfully, causing a
dribble of milk to wash the soap suds from her nipples. She passed a
hand over her baby-smooth mons, remembering how Carl used to complain
about getting her pubic hair caught in his throat. Oh, now I've done
it, Chris said to herself, as her random hand motions and memories of
how good it had felt to bury Carl's cock in her pussy began to catch
up to her. Might as well finish the job...
Chris's shower was a hand-held water massage. She took it
down from its mounting bracket, dialed for a hard pulsing spray, and
began playing the shower head over her body. The jets of high-
pressure water kneaded her breasts like thousands of tiny fingers,
tingling the skin from without and starting the familiar tingling from
within. The drops falling from the dark red tips of her bosom turned
gradually from the colorless clarity of water to the opaque whiteness
of mother's milk as she willed the letdown to proceed. Chris leaned
back against the shower wall, causing her breasts to point slightly
upward and sending a spray most of the way up the far wall as she
masterfully milked herself with her free hand. She planted her feet
at the corners of the small stall, bent her knees slightly, and slowly
guided the pulsating shower toward her naked pussy, whose lips were
now slightly puffy and whose clit now peeked out from their uppermost
junction. As the blasting water struck it, Chris gasped from the
force and redirected the spray for less direct contact. In only a
second or two she had found the right combination of pressure and
flow, and was well on her way to yet another satisfying orgasm. As
she neared the magic moment, she bent her head and brought one breast
up to her mouth (they were almost too firm to allow that). She
encircled the nipple with her lips and drank of herself, marvelling at
the warmth and sweetness of her milk as she had on several previous
occasions. As it had in the past, this was enough to complete her
journey to orgasm. Her cunt poured forth its bounty, rivalling the
shower in the intensity of the flow. Chris's legs, weakened from her
workout, could barely support her as she shook with the force of the
orgasm. She felt the flood of juices running down them, to be
immediately washed away by the shower. As the peak passed, Chris
released her nipple, which continued to drip. She spent the next few
minutes emptying both breasts -- the shower was a good place to do
that, even when she wasn't masturbating. She did a good portion of
this by suckling herself, as the workout had made her thirsty. The
last few ounces she expressed by hand. She allowed herself another,
less intense orgasm while doing this, then snapped out of it when she
realized she'd been in the shower for over half an hour. My water
bill's going to be unreal this month, she said to herself as she
turned off the water and reached for a towel.
She was still drying off as she walked through her apartment,
heedless of the open windows, to her telephone. She dropped the towel
as she picked up the phone book and looked up the number for the
Sheraton. She dialed it and asked for Carl's room, but he was not
there. Probably down in the bar trying to score, she thought
scornfully. She left a short message: "Carl. Chris. Welcome back.
Yes, I'd love to see you. How about tomorrow night for dinner? I'll
come by your hotel at 7:30. See you then." As she hung up, she
caught a glimpse of her nude body in the hall mirror, droplets of
water still gleaming here and there on her skin. Carl, lover, she
thought, you are in for one hell of a surprise. Her nipples began
hardening again as she considered her plan of attack. She looked down
at them and noticed tiny white droplets appearing. She shook her head
and wiped them away with the towel. "This is ridiculous," she said
out loud.
As she dressed, she realized that even though she felt nothing
for Carl, she knew that the anticipation of getting him into bed was
going to make it a long day at work tomorrow. I can't believe how
worked up I'm getting over the prospect of shocking the crap out of
this jerk, she told herself. I have *got* to start meeting new
people. Immediately a part of her mind began working on how that
would happen. She wasn't even aware of it, but her subconscious had
just started her down a path which would take her places the old Chris
would never have considered.
LACTOGENESIS XIV
THE OLD FLAME
PART 1
Christine glanced up from her plate of fettucini carbonara to
again find Carl Banks' eyes locked on her. Again she smiled in
response, and again he grinned awkwardly and glanced away. So far
everything seemed to be working according to plan. Chris had worked
hard to choose just the right combination of clothing and makeup to
allow just the barest hints of her heart-stopping physical
transformation to show through. She wanted Carl to see that some
changes had occurred since they'd last seen each other, but she also
wanted him to be constantly wondering just what they were. His poorly
concealed stares were telling her she had achieved the desired effect.
Since arriving at the restaurant, Chris had steered the conversation,
keeping it trivial, and sprinkling it with enough veiled sexual
references to keep Carl on edge and wondering whether he was going to
actually score with the girl he'd left flat almost three years ago.
Chris wanted to tease him, just enough to give him a hard-on all
through dinner. She wasn't a cruel person, though. She would jump
his bones before the night was over, but she was going to make damn
sure the sex was on her turf, on her terms.
The conversation had hit a lull when the food arrived, and
Chris allowed the silence to stretch out. Finally she leaned forward
slightly, in a calculated fashion so that her blousy clothing might
reveal just a bit more of the amazing curves beneath.
"Penny," she said with a smile.
"Nothing," he said flatly.
Chris sipped at her wine. "Come on, Carl, you forget how well
we used to know each other. How do you think we could be so good
together in bed? I know something other than computer motherboard
sales figures is circulating in that handsome head of yours. Out with
it."
Carl paused, then frankly stated, "Well, I just can't get over
how you look. To be honest, I was expecting to have to be polite and
overlook scars, disfigurements, whatever. I'd heard you really got
messed up when that car hit you. Instead you look just amazing --
better than ever, in fact."
Chris kept a smile on her face, but was frowning internally.
As shallow as ever, she thought. Relieved about not having to spend
an evening with the Elephant Woman, is he? Nice. And what's this
"better than ever" crap? What was I before, chopped liver? She
decided to shift the evening up a gear, before she lost interest in
this jerk altogether.
"That's sweet of you," she lied. "I had a feeling you were
undressing me with your eyes." She leaned forward even more,
deliberately allowing her breasts to press against the fabric of her
top, finally coming to rest upon the tabletop. She said in a low,
husky voice, "Why don't we get out of here so you can do it with your
hands?"
Carl's eyebrows shot up, and he had to concentrate to keep
from choking on his food. Always the smooth operator, however, he
didn't miss a beat. He immediately signaled for the check, and within
minutes the two of them were back at Chris's apartment. Chris was a
little perturbed at how readily he'd wanted to leave. She'd hoped to
string him along a while longer. He obviously wasn't interested in
catching up on the last three years -- he just wanted to get laid.
She decided that was okay; that's all she wanted, too. Why screw
things up with a lot of excess emotional baggage?
Chris tossed her purse on a chair and headed straight for her
bedroom. "Have a seat," she called over her shoulder. "Bar's still
where it's always been. Fix yourself a drink. I'll be right back."
She heard the clink of ice cubes as she closed the door and went
around the room lighting candles. She shut off the light and quickly
stepped out of her outfit. No beating around the bush, she'd decided.
I'm going for the throat... She'd chosen a forest green satin
matching bra and panties. The bra was just sheer enough for her
areoles to be visible; the panties were cut high on the hip and were
diaphanous enough for it to be obvious that her snatch was completely
hairless. Her cleavage was deep and inviting, her stomach flat and
hard. She slipped her heels back on and walked into the hallway,
where she struck a deliberately seductive pose. She said nothing, just
waited for the bomb she'd just dropped to hit its target.
Bulls-eye. Carl's face was the picture of amazement. His
eyes flittered up and down her body, looking for a place to rest. His
drink tilted in his hand and sent an ice-cold dribble of scotch and
soda into his crotch. You could practically see a plume of steam
arise as he jumped up, wiping at himself with his free hand. Chris
suppressed a giggle.
"Wow," he sputtered. "Chris, is that really you? I don't
remember this at all! What did you have done? I thought there was a
moratorium on implants..."
What an asshole, Chris thought. It's a good thing I'm horny
or I'd've flushed him before we even got out of the restaurant. "It's
all me," she said instead. "One hundred percent natural. Just a late
bloomer, I guess." She walked over to him and without warning kissed
him hard, simultaneously taking the drink from his hand. Time to get
him where he lives. "Enough talk," she whispered as she mashed her
breasts against Carl's chest. "Let's fuck." She led the shell-shocked
Carl into the bedroom. In their previous relationship, Carl had
always been the aggressor. Chris's blatant seductiveness and the
shock of revealing the new body had put her in complete control. She
turned and unbuttoned his shirt as he fumbled with his belt. She
yanked his pants and boxers down together, and his cock swung free.
It looked like it had been hard for a long time, and pre-come had
already wetted the glans. Just as I remembered it, Chris thought. Not
very long, even a bit below average perhaps, but nearly as big around
as her wrist. It had filled her quite satisfactorily three years ago.
How would it feel now?
She let her tongue trace a line along the lower surface of
Carl's cock, starting at the root. When she reached the arrowhead of
the glans, she slowly wrapped her lips around it. She swallowed him
an agonizingly slow half-inch at a time. Remembering some tips Sherri
had taught her, she relaxed her throat and allowed the shaft to skate
along her palate. All that practice with the bananas had paid off; she
was able to completely suppress the gag reflex. She took him right to
the balls. Carl sucked in breath through clenched teeth, and moaned
loudly when Chris opened her mouth even further and, with his cock
firmly ensconced in her throat, extended her tongue to lick his
scrotum. "Where did you learn to give head like that?" he murmured.
Chris backed away at the same slow pace, then began to move faster,
sliding her mouth along Carl's shaft, keeping pressure with her
tongue. Her fist followed behind, squeezing and milking away. She
felt him getting even harder. Good, she thought. I want to make you
beg to come. I want to see the look on your face when I cover you
with my milk. She stole a glance upward and saw Carl's head nodding
back and forth. "Oh, man, oh, shit," he was babbling.
So far, so good...
LACTOGENESIS XV
THE OLD FLAME
PART 2
Carl bent slightly and began unhooking Chris's bra. There
were more hooks than he remembered. The straps fell away, but her
breasts were so firm that the cups stayed in place. He began
caressing them roughly, grabbing and squeezing hard. Chris knew that
one of her surprises would be prematurely revealed if she allowed that
to continue, so she disengaged herself and gently removed Carl's
hands. She led him over to the bed, his spit-wet erection gently
bobbing in time to his elevated pulse. She lay back on the mattress
and arched her back, pressing her impressive bosom skyward. Carl was
expecting her breasts to disappear into her armpits when she lay down
and was amazed when they didn't. He was looking for surgical scars,
unconvinced that these magnificent mounds could be real, could
actually be Chris. She took his hands and placed one on each hip,
silently instructing him to remove her panties. He did so, and was
again mildly shocked at the sight of Chris's naked labia.
"Woman, I don't know what's brought on all these changes, but
I like it, I like it." Further talk was impossible as Chris grabbed
Carl's head and pushed it downward toward her waiting flesh. She was
remembering how she'd had to practically beg him to go down on her in
the past; now he couldn't complain about pubic hair in his mouth.
Carl licked at her tentatively, but when he tasted her musky
sweetness, he went to her like a starving man. His tongue parted her
inner lips and curled about her pearl-like clit as he swirled it in
ever-faster circles. Chris's juices began flowing, coating his chin
and starting to run down his neck. Carl slid his index finger along
her slit, finding the entrance, and inserting. He curled his finger
around and up, looking for Chris's G-spot. Another finger joined it,
then a third. Chris felt herself moving toward an orgasm, but it was
too soon, too soon. She needed to re-exert control, so she again
disengaged, sliding out from under him and guiding him around until he
lay on his back.
Chris swung one leg over Carl's hips and reaching behind her,
grabbed his cock and guided it to her drooling pussy. She rubbed the
tip up and down along her slit, letting herself open wide for him. In
one smooth motion she sat down on him, burying him to the hilt. The
girth of his shaft stretched her pussy, at first painfully, but as she
continued to lubricate, the sensation changed to one of intense
pleasure. Chris hadn't had a dick inside her for months, and as a
result, she knew she wouldn't be able to hold back very long. She
began riding him, pulling him out almost to the tip, then slamming
back down. Using another tip Sherri had taught her, Chris began to do
her Kegel exercises, alternately squeezing and releasing Carl's cock
with her vaginal muscles. She'd found that these exercises had
intensified her orgasms during masturbation, and she was eager to see
their effect on Carl. That was easy; Carl's head was tipped back and
almost obscured by the pillow. Only his nose and open, gasping mouth
were visible. He began spouting random obscenities as he too began
building toward orgasm.
As she bounced upon him, Chris leaned over Carl, dangling her
breasts in his face. She raked her long nipples over his lips,
feeling the milk behind them pressing down, wanting to be released.
She thought of rain on a window, a single droplet running down the
surface. In response a single drop of milk, then another, appeared on
her nipple and ran down between Carl's parted lips. When the sweet
liquid hit his tongue, Carl's eyes opened wide, and he turned his head
away. "What the hell is that?" he demanded.
Chris straightened up, two thin lines of milk running down the
lower half of her breasts. She stopped bouncing, but continued moving
her hips, keeping Carl's penis in contact with her clit. "I have milk
now," she said simply. "Isn't that fantastic? Want to see?" She
cupped her breasts and placed fingers at each areola, preparing to
spray him down.
Carl threw his arms up in front of his face. "Shit, no!" he
shouted. "That's gross! Don't do that, please."
Chris felt disappointment threatening to wash away the
wonderfulness of the feeling coming from between her legs. She had
hoped Carl might appreciate her gift, but was not overly surprised to
find it repelled him. Carl had never been much for bodily fluids,
with the possible exception of pussy juice. She was more concerned
with the softening she was beginning to detect in her cunt. There was
no way Carl was going to get away without her coming first, so she
began the mental exercises to shut down the flow from her breasts
while starting up her vaginal contractions again. After a few seconds
Carl had forgotten all about Chris's lactating breasts.
Chris clamped down hard on Carl, squeezing him as tightly as
she could. Her cunt was sopping now, and her pistoning motion was
creating a frothy mixture of her juices and his pre-come. She tilted
her hips forward slightly to increase the contact against her clit.
The added pressure was too much for Carl. "Oh, God, I'm gonna come!"
he suddenly moaned.
Not yet, you're not, Chris thought through the buzz of her own
impending orgasm. She reached back and making a ring from thumb and
forefinger, clamped down at the base of Carl's cock, freezing his
spunk in mid-rise and causing his shaft to expand even further with
trapped blood. Carl yelped and began pleading with Chris to let go,
but she didn't hear him. The added swelling had provided just what
she needed to complete her journey. She arched back and gave herself
over to the wave crashing down on her. As she came, her flood of
juice squirted out around Carl's rod, instantly soaking his pubic hair
and the bedclothes beneath. Chris began bucking like a rider helpless
on a bronco. Each downward stroke produced another gush of liquid,
spewing in time with Chris's yells of delight.
Carl's reaction was immediate. He shouted incoherently and
arched his hips upward, throwing Chris off him. She lost her grip on
his penis. Now free of its bondage, Carl's cock fired a thick stream
of jizm into the air. It landed on his stomach as Carl tried to
wriggle free. "God DAMN it!" he yelled. "You PISSED on me, you
fucking bitch!" He leaped out of bed and stood there, his entire
lower half dripping, a long string of come dangling from the end of
his fast-shrinking penis. "What the fuck are you DOING?!"
Chris had to scramble to keep from falling off the bed. She
came up fuming. "I was NOT pissing!" she yelled back. "I was COMING,
you stupid clod! What's the matter? Can't handle a sexually complete
woman?!"
Carl hurriedly wiped himself off with the bedspread, then
began collecting his clothes. "I don't know what the fuck planet you
came from, but you sure as hell aren't the Chris I used to boff. What
the hell *happened* to you, anyway?"
"I grew up. I woke up. I'm not the submissive little mouse
you used to use for a fuck toy." She looked hard at him, struggling
with his clothes, hopping on one foot as he tried to pull on his
pants. What had she ever seen in him? "Shit. Get out of here, Carl.
I just realized I don't ever want to see you again."
"No problem. I'm gone," he said, moving toward the door,
shoes in hand. He stopped at the doorway and turned to her. Angrily
he said, "You know, nobody's ever going to want to sleep with you with
you spewing all that shit. They're all going to run, just like me."
He was off down the hall. Chris heard him say "Stupid cunt," just
before the door slammed.
Chris sat on the bed, trying to sort out her feelings. Her
body was complaining that Carl had interrupted it in mid-orgasm. Her
breasts felt like they were ready to burst. She was upset at the
intensity of Carl's negative reaction, and angry at herself for even
having returned his call. She realized that she really was a
different person now, and as far as sexual liaisons were concerned,
she was going to have to burn all her bridges and start over fresh.
Gone were all traces of the pre-accident Christine. Sherri had
already started her with some novel experiences -- her frequent
assists with Sherri's campaign to start lactating, for example -- but
it was up to her to find the kind of partner her new sexuality
demanded.
Chris looked at the wet sheets. Whoever it's going to be,
they're going to have to really like to get wet, she thought. She
felt a momentary pang of panic. Are there guys out there that will
appreciate me and what I can do? she wondered. Or will they all be
like Carl, bolting as soon as they see a drop of milk or a trickle of
pussy juice? I don't know if I could take that...
She wasn't about to let herself get depressed. There *must*
be men who get turned on by a human fountain, she told herself. If
there's anything I've learned from my years at the paper, it's that
there are all kinds of people in the world. I just hope there are a
few of my type in town. She looked at the door. "Good riddance,
dickhead," she said aloud. "I was just too much woman for him." She
looked down at her swollen breasts, felt the throbbing in her cunt.
Well, she thought, no sense in letting a good buzz go to waste.
With that, she opened her nightstand drawer, took out her
vibrator, and walked into another room, where her breast pump awaited.
Chris didn't come out of that room again for a long time.
LACTOGENESIS XVI
THE BREAKTHROUGH
Christine fished her keys out of her purse and began unlocking
the door to her apartment. A muffled, unusual sound in the hallway
caused her to silence the jingling of the keys with her free hand so
as to listen more closely. Whsssh, pfff, whsssh, pfff, whsssh, pfff,
it went, just above the threshold of audibility. Where have I heard
that sound before? she wondered. She made the mental connection at
exactly the same time as a potentially drenching letdown reflex began
in her breasts. She had to slam down mental barriers and
simultaneously press one forearm across her ample chest to keep the
flow of milk staunched. The sound she'd heard was that of a breast
pump going at full tilt. As part of her work with making donations to
the milk bank, she had conditioned herself to release milk at full
flow when using her own pump, so she was unprepared for the aural cues
provided by this second one. I need to brush up on my control
techniques a little more, she thought. She strained to hear, trying
to locate the source of the sound. Of course. It was coming from
Sherri's apartment.
Chris entered her apartment, went into her bedroom, and
removed her blouse and bra. Sure enough, the cups were damp. She
walked into the bathroom to rinse out the bra and to express some milk
in order to relieve some of the pressure. I am *not* going to come,
she said firmly to herself as the manipulations of her fingers along
her rigid nipples threatened to send her into orbit as they did so
often. I have more control than that; besides, I don't want to rinse
out panties as well. Rivulets of milk joined into a single stream in
the sink and disappeared down the drain as she worked. I need to
think about something else, Chris said to herself, as she felt her
level of arousal rising unbidden. I wonder how Sherri is doing with
her "project". I haven't seen her for several days, and the last time
I did she was complaining of sore nipples. At least that means she's
keeping up with it. It's been a few weeks, should be any day now...
Chris was just blotting a last few drops from herself when the
phone rang. "Hi, hon, it's Sherri," the voice on the other end said.
"Hate to bother you, but could you come over for a minute? I need
your expertise on something."
"Right now?"
"If you could. It's kind of an emergency."
I'll bet she's having trouble with the pump, Chris thought.
Those things can be kind of persnickety. She threw her blouse back on
and made for the door. No time to hunt for a clean bra.
Sherri met her at her door clad in a terrycloth bathrobe that
had been hurriedly donned and was hanging open. She was naked
underneath. Chris caught a glimpse of red pubic hair, matted down with
moisture. The robe hung well out from her torso, pushed away from it
by a pair of massive, pendulous breasts. They were mostly covered,
but Chris could still make out a network of bright blue veins showing
through the skin. Sherri was not smiling.
As Chris walked into Sherri's apartment, she said, "Is it my
imagination, or are you gigantic? Has something happened since I've
seen you last?"
At that, Sherri did smile. "I'm up to an F cup now. Do you
know how hard it is to find pretty underwear in that size?"
"Do I take you to mean that things are... progressing?"
A twinkle appeared in Sherri's eyes. "Let's talk about that
later. For now, I've got a problem I'd like you to look at."
"You said it was an emergency. Are you all right?"
"That's what I need you to tell me." At that, Sherri pushed
the robe off her shoulders. Her breasts swung gently as the material
fell away from them. Each was at least a double handful, with plenty
left over. They were close to resting in Sherri's lap. The faint
beginnings of stretch marks were visible at their upper boundaries.
Her areolae had darkened almost to a chocolate brown, and were nearly
three inches in diameter. The nipples were just a raised area at the
center of each areola. Tiny blood vessels crisscrossed along the
undersides of each breast like spider webs. There was a lot to see
here, but Chris's attention was focused on the lower quadrant of
Sherri's right breast, which was flushed a deep, angry pink.
"Ooh, honey, that looks tender," Chris said sympathetically.
She ran her fingertips over the area and noticed that it was downright
hot. She palpated it gently, which brought a hiss of discomfort from
Sherri. Chris knew right away what was wrong. She looked up at
Sherri, and a broad grin formed on her face.
"Why you little so-and-so," Chris chided. "You've been
holding out on me! You have a plugged duct, my dear, which can only
mean one thing."
Sherri was nodding furiously. She and Chris suddenly squealed
in delight and hugged each other, laughing. "How long since you
started?" Chris said when they broke their embrace.
"Only about three days ago. I didn't want to let you know
until I was sure. I pumped these babies day in and day out for weeks,
got cracked nipples, broke the pump once. I was this close to giving
up when all of a sudden the milk came in like gangbusters. Woke up in
the middle of the night Thursday night practically swimming in my own
bed!"
"Are you sorry you did it?"
"Hell, no! Chris, I'm feeling so sexually charged up from
this that I can come from just walking in a pair of corduroy pants! I
feel like the Earth Mother herself. I mean, *look* at these things
now. They're bigger than my ex-husband's head! What a rush!
"Right now, though, I'm feeling pretty miserable. I just took
some Tylenols, but they haven't kicked in yet. I'm as engorged as
hell, so much so that the pump cups can't get a good grip on me." She
looked concerned. "Are you sure I don't have an infection or
anything?"
"No, you've just got a little back-up there. Nothing an ice
pack, a little gentle massage, and a friend can't fix." Chris gently
pushed Sherri back to a reclining position on the couch. "I've been
waiting to do this for a long time," she whispered as she bent her
head to Sherri's ear. "Ever since you first nursed from me..."
LACTOGENESIS XVII
THE FOUR FOUNTAINS
Chris brushed her lips lightly against Sherri's ear lobe, then
used them to lay down a trail of soft kisses down Sherri's neck, over
her collarbone, and down her chest. With the tip of her tongue, she
played "connect the dots" with the freckles that were sprinkled along
her breastbone. Sherri was already breathing heavily; her hands were
tousling Chris's hair as she hovered over Sherri's torso. Chris
hesitated at the midpoint between Sherri's heaving bosoms, then began
kissing her way toward the right nipple. Her tongue teased the small
bump of the nipple, swirling around it, trying to get it to pop up
from its hiding place. She could feel the nipple stiffen, but it did
not lengthen appreciably. She pursed her lips and surrounded it, and
began to suck gently. Sherri's grip on Chris's hair tightened, and
Chris could feel her begin to move her hips. Gradually Chris began to
pull more and more of Sherri's areola into her mouth and intensified
her suckling. She covered her teeth with her lips and began to apply
pressure on the lactiferous sinuses surrounding the nipple. That and
the suction had the desired effect: a high-pressure stream of liquid
immediately shot into her mouth. At the same moment, Sherri's hands
left Chris's head; one went to the breast Chris was suckling and began
squeezing, the other went straight to her cunt, from whence wet
slurping noises began to issue as she finger-fucked herself
frantically.
Chris felt herself becoming aroused as she drank from Sherri's
distended breast. Sherri's milk was thinner and not as sweet as her
own, but its warmth and sheer volume were very exciting. One of
Chris's hands went to Sherri's other breast, which she expertly began
to milk. She didn't look up, but she could swear she could hear the
squirts from that breast striking the ceiling. The other hand went to
her own mammaries, which she began massaging through her thin blouse.
Sherri stopped squeezing her own boob and instead moved to Chris's
blouse, which she unsuccessfully tried to unbutton. Chris lifted her
mouth from Sherri's nipple, which had responded to Chris's sucking by
becoming quite well-defined. Several tiny streams continued to shoot
upward, catching Chris full in the face. She shook her head,
laughing, while she peeled off the blouse. Chris's hands went to her
breasts, and she began milking, showering the supine Sherri with her
ambrosia. Sherri responded in kind, sending blast after blast
skyward, striking Chris about the face and chest. They giggled like a
couple of kids with squirt guns as they continued to shoot. For some
minutes they soaked each other down, laughing and squealing
uncontrollably, until every square inch of their skins was covered
with white droplets and their hair was matted, and still they
continued to squirt. Impulsively Sherri sat up and embraced Chris.
Their milk-soaked tits pressed together, nipples rubbing, milk
continuing to flow, mixing together and running down their stomachs in
a thin white sheet.
"I want to come," Chris breathed into Sherri's ear, as they
slid their bosoms across each other, their mingled milk lubricating
them.
Sherri laughed out loud. "Are you kidding? I think I've come
a couple of times already!"
She bent down to Chris's waist, unbuttoning her slacks. Chris
wriggled out of them and threw them across the room. As she slid back
onto the floor, Sherri followed her down, kissing her way down Chris's
belly and going straight to her cunt. She captured Chris's clit
between thumb and forefinger, massaging it while licking the area
around it. Then, with one motion, she sucked Chris's labia into her
mouth while inserting her tongue into Chris's vagina. She slurped
away furiously for several seconds while holding down Chris's bucking
hips with her upper arms. She then began licking Chris slowly,
starting at her anus and moving up to the tip of her clit in one long
lick. As she felt Chris's thighs begin trembling as she made her
final approach to orgasm, Sherri began fucking her with three fingers
while at the same time flattening her tongue directly on her clit and
vibrating it back and forth. Chris screeched, her vagina contracted,
and a gout of fluid cascaded over Sherri's fingers and down her arm.
Giggling wildly, Sherri took her hand, filled with Chris's juices, and
began rubbing it all over herself.
Chris took that opportunity to turn the tables, pushing Sherri
back onto the floor. Sherri's pubic hair tickled Chris's nose as she
ate her out, shaking her head back and forth as she sucked Sherri's
long clit into her mouth. Sherri continued laughing, with complete
abandon, as she grabbed her breasts and squeezed the last few drops of
milk out of them. At that moment Chris came up and began rubbing one
nipple against Sherri's crotch, flicking it against Sherri's clit.
"Ooh, honey, just like that," Sherri cooed. "Your nipple's so
big and hard, it feels like a cock. Fuck me with it." And Chris did.
It felt like her nipple was more than an inch long as it disappeared
into Sherri's cunt and reappeared to once again tickle her clit.
"Come in me," Sherri growled. Chris took the hint and grabbed her
breast just behind the nipple. A blast of milk emerged, striking
Sherri's clit dead on. This was enough to bring Sherri off one more
time, squirming and squealing as Chris's milk oozed down her slit.
As they lay together on the floor of Sherri's apartment,
desire still hanging heavily in the air, Chris whispered, "I'll help
you clean up later." They started giggling again. In the spontaneity
of the moment, they had neglected to take into account the mess four
breasts full of milk could make. Wet spots covered the sofa, the
carpeting...there was even milk dripping from the ceiling. "Don't
worry, I know just how to get this stuff out."
"I'll just bet you do," Sherri murmured as she nuzzled Chris's
neck. "The only thing I'm worried about is letting you get away before
I'm done with you." She gently separated herself and stood up.
"Don't you move. I'll be right back." She walked toward her bedroom,
droplets of milk running down her body as her generous ass retreated
down the corridor. She was back in less than a minute, holding a
gigantic double-headed dildo that had to be a foot and a half in
length in one hand and a tube of K-Y jelly in the other.
"Mmmm. I don't think we'll need that," Chris said, referring
to the jelly. She took the dildo from Sherri and proceeded to spray
down its entire length with milk. She and Sherri then positioned
themselves with their legs intertwined, each with a grip on one end of
the dildo. In a single, concerted motion, they inserted their
respective ends into their pussies. They moved against each other in
a smooth pas de deux, their hips rising in unison, the dildo bridging
an ever-shortening gap between them. Slowly, inexorably, the dildo
disappeared inside them until they were pussy to pussy, their clits
rubbing together. The dildo was completely buried. As if rehearsed,
their hands went to their breasts, and once again milk flowed. They
looked like an erotic fountain as four groups of tiny streams formed
white parabolas, raining down on their undulating bodies. Even their
moans were in sync. Of course their orgasms were simultaneous.
Chris's secretions so completely lubricated their cunts that the dildo
simply popped out onto the floor, causing gales of laughter to once
again erupt from them.
Sherri sat up, cupping her breasts in her hands. "I never
thought that this would feel so good," she said. "I've been around
the block a number of times, but this has opened up a whole new
street." She smiled and took Chris's hand. "Now I've got some idea
of what you've been going through." She tentatively massaged the
lower quadrant of her right breast, and smiled again when there was no
pain. "By God, lady, I think you've cured me." Sure enough, the
inflammation was already fading; all that activity had unplugged the
affected duct.
The intensity of their experience later took a long time to
erase from the floors, walls, and furniture. Chris and Sherri ended
up going through an entire bottle of upholstery cleaner that day.
LACTOGENESIS XVIII
THE RESEARCH
Dr. Sheila Ellis, Christine's endocrinologist, had sounded
excited on the phone. Her research on Chris's hormone-induced
transformation was nearing completion, she had said. She was putting
the finishing touches on a scientific paper she was entitling
"Spontaneous Galactorrhea and Increased Graefenberg Spot Secretions as
the Result of Head Trauma in a 24-Year-Old Nullipara" that was bound
for the New England Journal of Medicine, but was missing some key MRI
data. Could Chris come down to the hospital for one last series of
tests? Chris had grudgingly agreed. The only reason she had
acquiesced to be Sheila's guinea pig was her hope that the sexual
tension that had existed between them ever since Chris first anointed
Sheila's office with her milk as the result of an uncontrolled letdown
would finally result in something. To Chris's disappointment,
however, Sheila had been the cool professional throughout the several
office visits Chris had made in support of Sheila's research.
There had been the time when Sheila was collecting data on
Chris's milk output. Chris had spent the better part of a day in the
office being milked repeatedly with a breast pump, filling bottle
after bottle with her sweet secretions. She had never received that
kind of constant stimulation before, and the result had been quite
illuminating. For hours Chris had been poised on the edge of orgasm,
occasionally sliding over the brink, and always coming back down not
all the way, but to a state of agitated arousal from which it was very
easy to come again. Over and over this had happened. Chris was
virtually writhing in the examination chair, moaning and cooing as
wave after wave crashed over her. After a few hours of this Chris was
ready to start begging Sheila to join her, or shut down the machine,
or *something*. But Sheila had maintained her professional detachment
throughout, measuring the volume in the bottles as Chris filled them,
jotting the numbers on a clipboard, and feeding Chris protein shakes
through a straw to keep her from getting dehydrated. Chris had slept
for twelve hours that night.
On another occasion, Sheila had wanted to get some information
on the intensity of Chris's letdown reflex. She'd placed a topless
and fairly heavily engorged Chris on a chair in front of a black
background and instructed her to go through the mental exercises that
would release her milk at top velocity. High-speed cameras recorded
the tiny jets as they emerged and arced out across the room without
Chris having to touch herself at all. Tiny sensors attached to
Chris's breasts had noted the almost imperceptible electrical pulses
associated with the contraction of the muscle cells lining the milk
sinuses that propelled the precious liquid along. Chris had set a new
distance record that day, and Sheila had been notably impressed. As
Sheila stood at the instruments, watching their readouts, Chris was
sure that she saw desire on Sheila's face -- in the way her blink rate
slowed, her pupils dilated, and the number of times she'd moistened
her lips. Just like that fateful day that was now months in the past.
It's all right, Sheila, I want it, too, Chris had telegraphed. Alas,
Sheila was not telepathic, nor did Chris wish to put an invitation
into words for fear she'd be wrong.
Then there was the incident with the moisture sensor.
Sheila's purpose that time was to follow the course of one of Chris's
ejaculatory episodes by means of a moisture sensor inserted in her
vagina. Chris remembered feigning vaginismus during the insertion
process, contracting her vaginal muscles so tightly that Sheila could
not get the probe in more than half an inch. She pretended to be
extremely uptight about having a foreign object inserted into her,
something that couldn't be further from the truth. Chris had relaxed
only after Sheila had massaged her mons while speaking soothing words.
Her face had been only inches from Chris's pussy, and she had to have
smelled arousal in Chris's odor. Still, she showed no outward sign
that anything was out of the ordinary. Chris remembered treating the
probe like one of her vibrators, trying to make herself come merely by
rhythmically tensing and releasing the muscles surrounding it. She
had succeeded. The resulting torrent had pegged the instrument and
had even shorted it out when a blast of her ejaculate struck the front
of it. Sheila had been quick to unplug it; otherwise, the experiment
might have ended unhappily.
Chris had had tubes in her arms from which blood was taken for
hormone profiles during a lactation event. Sheila had been less than
expert in finding a vein, and the resulting discomfort had interfered
with Chris's mental control over starting and stopping her milk
production. The results of that experiment had been inconclusive. In
that instance, Sheila had seemed to warm up a bit, apologizing
profusely for causing her pain and taking extra care to dress the
puncture wounds. Their eyes had met briefly, but there was nothing
but a doctor behind Sheila's.
Pulse monitors, oxygen meters, even tiny pressure sensors in
tiny collars that had encircled her nipples to measure their erectile
response -- in these last weeks Chris felt that she'd been probed by
every type of medical instrument known to man. In all that time there
were several instances where Sheila had stroked her hair before
beginning a procedure, soothing her anxiety. There had even been a
quick hug or two when a result showed particular promise. But it had
all been within the boundaries of professional decorum.
Now Sheila wanted to finish up with a magnetic resonance
imaging scan of Chris's thorax. Something about studying the
distribution of glands and ducts within the breast tissue, she'd said
in her phone call. She'd had to trade a favor or two for the use of
the MRI instrument off hours, which was why she'd asked Chris to come
down to the hospital so late at night.
The clock on the dashboard read 10:48 as Chris pulled her car
into the hospital parking lot. As she parked, the same thought she
entertained every time she went there resurfaced. Sheila wants me,
she said to herself. I can tell. Why doesn't she do anything about
it? Doesn't she know it would be all right?
Due to the lateness of the hour, most of the lot was empty.
She'd pulled to a back entrance, following Sheila's instructions.
She'd said the MRI lab was in that part of the building. Chris was
puzzled at the lack of lights that showed in the windows. Had Sheila
forgotten their appointment? Chris walked up to the large double
door, tried it, and found it locked. Should she knock? She peered
inside, down the length of a long corridor, which was empty. Chris
began to feel uneasy. I can't just stand out here, she thought. One
hand went to her breasts, which were beginning to feel uncomfortable.
"Come good and full", Sheila had said. "We want to get before and
after pictures from this."
Just as Chris was about to turn back to her car, she heard the
unmistakable sound of high heels echoing from a side corridor.
LACTOGENESIS XIX
THE EXAMINATION
PART ONE
To Chris's relief, the owner of those high heels turned out to
be Sheila. She appeared from a side corridor, dressed as always in a
white lab coat and carrying her clipboard. She was smiling broadly as
she unlocked the door, admitted Chris, and locked it again behind her.
"Sorry to leave you standing out there in the dark, but I
wasn't sure exactly when you'd be arriving," Sheila said.
"Fortunately the MRI lab is within earshot of the door, or we might
have missed each other."
"I was beginning to wonder," Chris admitted. "Now, from your
phone call it sounded like this was the last thing you needed me for.
Is that right?"
"Should be, barring any complications with the scan. You did
remember not to express any milk before coming here, didn't you?"
"I'm as full as I allow myself to get without becoming too
uncomfortable," Chris replied. "I hope it won't be long before I can
relieve myself, though."
"Well, how long it's going to take will be largely up to you,"
Sheila said cryptically. Chris was going to ask her what she meant,
but by then they'd arrived at the lab. Sheila used a key to unlock
the door, stepped in, and turned on the lights. Chris had never seen
so much high-tech gadgetry assembled in one place before. The setting
was stark hospital white. The MRI unit was a large, hollow cylinder
with a motorized platform extending out from it. It looked a little
cramped in there. To one side, behind glass, was the control panel.
Sheila motioned to a multi-paneled screen cordoning off one corner of
the room.
"We need to get started right away. I had to do a lot of
finagling to get just a little time on this unit, so we need to get in
and out fast.
If you would, go behind that screen and take off all your clothes.
We're going to do a whole-body scan first, so everything has to come
off. Even panties," she added parenthetically.
I wonder why? Chris thought as she began doing as she was
told. Doesn't this kind of machine see through clothing? She thought
Sheila's request was a little strange, but she just shrugged and
quickly stripped naked. "There's no robe in here," she called out.
"You won't need one. Just hop out here and onto the
platform."
Chris walked across the room in her glorious birthday suit and
lay down on the platform. It and the room were cold; Chris's nipples
were painfully erect as a result, and gooseflesh stood out all over
her body. "Why do you doctors always keep your workplaces so damned
cold?" Chris complained.
Sheila did not respond. Instead she took hold of one of
Chris's ankles and fastened a restraint around it. "Hey!" Chris
shouted. "What are you doing?"
"The procedure requires that you be absolutely still. We've
found that most patients can't lie still enough on their own.
These'll make it easier." Chris accepted that, and allowed Sheila to
fasten straps across both ankles and wrists, and one across her
forehead, anchoring her upper body to the platform.
"Comfortable?"
"As comfortable as possible under the circumstances, I guess."
"Good. I think we're ready to begin." Chris expected Sheila
to disappear behind the panel and press the buttons that would move
the platform into the MRI unit. Instead, she put down her clipboard
and stepped closer to Chris. She noticed the gooseflesh on Chris's
skin and placed a warm hand on her stomach.
"You poor thing. You really are cold. Let's get you warmed
up." She began unbuttoning her lab coat. By the time she reached the
third button, it became obvious that she was wearing nothing
underneath. Chris was astonished. "Wait. Wait a minute. Sheila,
what's going on?"
"Oh, I think you know. You think that all the time we've
spent together was just to further my research, don't you? Do you
honestly believe I could just stand there and watch you squirting and
gushing at session after session and not be affected? I've seen how
you look at me while you were doing that. You were trying to get a
rise out of me. You've been teasing me. I think you've known that
I've wanted you ever since I first tasted your milk from my desktop,
and you've been trying to get me to show it. Well, you were right,
and now is the time." Her lab coat hit the floor, revealing a taut,
athletic build. Sheila's breasts were quite small, barely enough to
require a bra. The areolae were almost nonexistent, but from their
centers protruded tan-pink nipples as big around as an index finger
and at least an inch long. The cold obviously wasn't the only thing
contributing to their size. Further down, past a belly lean enough
for the underlying muscles to be visible, Sheila's hips flared wide,
making for fleshy buttocks behind and a large, coal-black bush in
front. Chris could see that her pussy lips were already swollen, and
pearls of moisture were just visible at their edges.
Chris realized how helpless she'd allowed herself to become,
and felt panic begin to well up inside. She had wanted to do
something about the electricity that had built up between her and
Sheila, and now she was getting her wish, but not as she had
envisioned. She began to struggle against the restraints, but was
held fast.
"Sheila. You don't need to do this. Ever since I noticed
your desire for me, I've wanted something to happen. We can be
together. Just let me up from here."
"No, you've teased me for so long I thought I should have a
chance to do some teasing myself." She bent down and kissed Chris
lightly on the lips. Her tone became very gentle. "Don't worry. I
won't hurt you. Relax. I guarantee you'll enjoy this."
"Won't somebody hear?"
"Why do you think I had you come down this time of night?
Everybody's gone, don't worry. Just give yourself to me this one
time. Believe me, I only want to give you as much pleasure as you've
given me."
Sheila began lightly caressing Chris's body. Her touch was so
gentle, her desire to please so genuine that Chris's panic soon began
to drain away. She had never experimented with being tied up before,
but she had been curious. Here's your chance to find out what it's
like, she thought. She relaxed against the straps holding her. Boy,
I guess I overdid it with her, Chris said to herself. Pushed a little
too hard. It's always the quiet ones who surprise you. Well, I guess
you reap what you sow. Here we go...
"Do it, Sheila. Take me," Chris whispered, with as much lust
in her voice as she could muster being tied down to a medical
examining table.
As she expected, Sheila went straight to her breasts first.
One could hardly blame her; how could anyone resist their perfect,
uplifted shape and the ruby color and hardness of their crowning
glories? Sheila used both hands to encircle Chris's right breast.
She bent low, staring in anticipation at the nipple. When no milk was
immediately forthcoming, she attached her mouth to the nipple like a
barnacle on a ship and began sucking wildly.
"Ow, sweetie, gently, gently," Chris said. Sheila was sucking
so hard that she was causing pain. The fullness in her breasts began
to give way to that familiar tingling as the stimulus began to work
its magic. Chris somehow wanted to punish Sheila for the way she was
being treated, so she began thinking of deserts, cracked soil,
dust...anything to keep the milk from flowing. It was difficult; she
had never had to hold back against this extreme amount of stimulation.
Sheila began squeezing Chris's breast as if it were the udder of a
cow. Chris gritted her teeth against the overwhelming urge to drown
Sheila, but not a drop emerged from her nipples. A few seconds later,
Sheila let go and stood up, frowning.
"You said you were full," she pouted.
"You of all people should know that I have to be completely
relaxed to have a good letdown," Chris lied. "I'm not very relaxed
right now."
Sheila smiled. "I know just the thing," she said huskily.
Sheila moved down between Chris's legs and firmly pried her knees
apart. The ankle restraints caused Chris to bow her legs somewhat
unnaturally, but her discomfort dissipated when Sheila's full lips
began caressing Chris's pussy lips. Her sharp tongue extended
further, further...Chris's eyes went wide. This girl could push her
glasses up her nose with that thing if she wanted to! The tip gently
parted Chris's labia and hungrily probed the entrance to Chris's womb.
Slowly it began disappearing inside. In spite of herself, Chris began
moving under the onslaught of this twisting serpent. She felt herself
being filled up as if by a cock with the ability to continually change
its shape. It was a unique sensation, one fully capable of making
Chris forget where she was and how she was currently configured.
Sheila's tongue was fully extended up inside her now, and her nose was
tickling Chris's clit as she struggled to breathe through it. Chris's
breathing began to quicken, as did her approach to orgasm. She barely
had time to cry out a warning before her swollen G-spot cut loose a
downpour of juice, propelled by her spasming vagina. The force of the
contractions pushed Sheila's tongue out, and the flood immediately
following it struck her full in the throat. Rather than gagging,
though, Sheila's throat opened and she swallowed the bulk of Chris's
pubic tidal wave like college students chug beer.
Sheila wasn't about to let Chris come down right away. Her
fingers went to Chris's clit, where she began expertly massaging it.
Chris's moans, which were just beginning to diminish, immediately
returned to their previous volume. Not more than ten seconds later,
Chris climaxed a second time. The accompanying gush was less
voluminous this time, but was still sufficient to splash across
Sheila's chest, flow down her breasts, and drip from her turgid
nipples.
LACTOGENESIS XX
THE EXAMINATION
PART TWO
Sheila stood up and looked down at her dripping breasts.
"Look, I'm like you now." She began moving back up toward Chris's
heaving chest. "You should be pretty relaxed now."
Chris felt like the skin covering her bosom would split from
the pressure inside it. "Yes, oh, yes," she intoned. "Drink from me.
Taste me..." At that, thick streams of white liquid began welling up
from Chris's nipples, spilling down over the sides of her monumental
mounds to form growing puddles under each armpit. Sheila fell upon
Chris's breasts, licking and sucking as if it were her last meal.
Milk ran freely down Chris's body, off the edge of the examining
table, and began pooling on the floor. Sheila continued drinking, but
there was more than she could consume. All Chris wanted to do was to
keep squirting, keep squirting until there were no more fluids in her
body at all. The fact that she couldn't use her arms or legs only
intensified the feelings in other parts of her body. She came again
solely from Sheila's manipulations of her breasts, and this time she
heard the splashes from her cunt strike the hard floor. Her entire
world was concentrated in her brimming boobs...or was it? What was
that new hardness between her legs? Chris looked down at Sheila; both
her hands were accounted for. She looked further down and gasped
aloud. There, expertly positioned between her splayed gams, with a
firm, healthy erection poised at her gaping hole, was none other than
her trusted physician Dr. Frankenmuth, looking thoroughly
unprofessional with his pants gathered at his ankles and the reservoir
tip of a condom dangling from the tip of his cock.
"My goodness, Christine, how you've filled out since you left
us," he growled lustily, as he slowly began pushing his way inside.
"God, Sheila, I could've sworn those tapes you showed me were
doctored, but now I know. Our little Christine is a true wonder." As
he penetrated her fully, his expression changed to one of pure bliss.
"And she's as fantastic inside as she is out." He began pumping,
using long, deliberate strokes.
A crowd of conflicting emotions chased each other through
Chris's head. Surprise at Frankenmuth's sudden appearance. Panic in
that now it was two on one, and she had no chance of escape. Renewed
lust in that she had fantasized about Frankenmuth ever since he and
she accidentally discovered her ejaculatory talents those months ago,
and here he was, inserting his penis into her. Chris knew somewhere
in the back of her mind that this could be thought of as rape, but she
was so far gone from the combination of Sheila's talented fingers and
tongue that she actually found herself welcoming Frankenmuth's hard
cock within her. Her vagina sucked him deeper inside, until his glans
was kissing her cervix at the bottom of each stroke. Frankenmuth's
eyes betrayed his amazement. The struggle to postpone ejaculation was
beginning to show on his face. It was a losing proposition.
"No! Not yet! Not so soon!" he cried, but Chris's cunt would
have none of it. Like a separate living entity, it squeezed and
milked and sucked at this invader, determined to extract its very
essence. Frankenmuth stumbled backward, pulling out at the same moment
that the condom was filling with his spunk. "Damn it! I came too
soon!" Indeed, it couldn't have been two minutes since Frankenmuth,
who had been tipped off to Sheila's plan by Sheila herself earlier
that day, made his surreptitious entrance, surveyed the scene, and
decided to join the party.
Sheila giggled at Frankenmuth's frustration. "Aww, poor baby.
Here, let mama kiss it and make it better." She extricated herself
from Chris's bosom and padded over to where Frankenmuth stood,
frantically stripping off the sodden condom and almost taking the skin
of his penis off with it.
She immediately dropped to her knees, extended her prehensile tongue,
and began swirling it up, down, and around Frankenmuth's limp, semen-
soaked organ. Under attack from all sides, his dick had no choice but
to defend itself. Slowly it began to rise to meet the challenge. He
began humming a tuneless sound as his growing erection disappeared
into Sheila's mouth.
Chris struggled to get herself into a position where she could
see what was going on, but could not. Being so abruptly abandoned was
frustrating for her, as hot as she currently was. Her body was
telling her that there were still more orgasms available, more milk to
be loosed. Again she began straining against her restraints. She
heard Sheila's frantic slurping and Frankenmuth's humming, and was
being slowly driven crazy by it. "Mmm, Sheila, he sounds delicious,"
she said. "Can I share him with you?"
"No, you stay put. He's all mine," Sheila said between sucks.
Frankenmuth, however, had other plans. Clearly he wanted a
second shot at Chris. With Sheila still connected to his cock, he
leaned over to the table and released one of Chris's wrist restraints.
Chris quickly used her free hand to unfasten the other three straps.
When she swung her legs around and stood up, several small puddles of
milk that had pooled on her upper body ran down her tummy, pussy, and
legs. Frankenmuth shook his head in disbelief at the sight. Chris
walked up behind Sheila's kneeling form, placed herself so that her
knees touched Sheila's shoulder blades, and looked deeply into
Frankenmuth's eyes, saying "Here I am. What's your pleasure?" without
using words. He placed a hand on each of her shoulders, bent his
head, and began to suck on Chris's nipples. He went from one to the
other with amazing speed, so that it felt to Chris like he was sucking
both breasts at once. Her mammaries responded with a renewed flow of
milk. Frankenmuth would suck hard once or twice, prompting a strong
jet from her rock-hard nipple, swallow, switch breasts, and be back in
time to renew the stream just before it slowed to a trickle.
"I don't know what's going on up there," came Sheila's muffled
voice from below, "but you've just doubled in size, darling. Keep it
up, Chris."
Chris began rubbing her cunt with one hand, then used the
other to replace it with one of Frankenmuth's. "Remember that day in
the hospital?" she reminded him. "Do it like you did it then." He
took the hint, turned his hand over, and used his thumb to begin
stroking Chris's clit. The angle wasn't the same as when she'd been
sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, but the effect was. Chris's
legs began trembling, and her knees buckled. The motion forced
Sheila's body forward, causing her to swallow Frankenmuth's cock to
the hilt. He and Chris came simultaneously. Sheila was hit with a
double deluge -- one from above, as Chris's come cascaded down into
her hair, and the other from inside, as Frankenmuth's second load
blasted against her uvula. Unlike with Chris, she was unprepared for
this. She began choking as her gag reflex was tripped.
Frankenmuth brought Sheila to her feet and held her while she
struggled to clear his come from her throat. "You OK, Sheila?" he
asked. He felt her nod against his chest. "Good, 'cause I'm still
hard, and there's one more orifice I wish to explore tonight." He led
Sheila over to the examining table, where he lay her down and
immediately mounted her.
She responded immediately, bringing her hips up to meet his strokes.
It wasn't long before they, incredibly, forgot Chris was even in the
room.
For a few seconds, Chris considered joining them, but decided
against it, seeing how small the table was. This conscious decision
was enough to disconnect her libido from her thinking brain, and a
rational, sexually satiated Christine emerged. It began to dawn on
her that she was standing in the middle of an MRI laboratory, naked
and covered with bodily fluids of several types, mostly her own, with
probably a pint of her milk scattered around the room, and two people
she barely knew locked in a carnal embrace on an examining table,
completely oblivious to her presence.
It was suddenly too weird for her. In that moment she knew
she had to get out of there, as quickly as possible, and not look
back. She spied a table along one wall containing some basic medical
supplies. She grabbed a handful of wipes and used them to towel
herself off. She ran behind the screen and began dressing as fast as
she could. She heard Sheila and Frankenmuth's moaning becoming more
heated. She knew they'd be done soon, and they'd be looking for her.
She made a dash for the door and was almost there when a flashing
light caught her eye. She noticed that the "start" button on the MRI
unit's control panel was illuminated. The machine was under power! A
wicked thought crossed her mind, and she walked over to the panel.
Her hand poised over the button as she looked through the glass at the
two doctors lost in lust.
She began to feel the effects of having been hoodwinked by
these two.
As the afterglow (they had been a terrific sexual experience) faded
completely, it began to be replaced by a sting of humiliation. Her
trip down here hadn't been a waste of her time, but she had been
brought here under false pretenses. She had, after all, been used as
a tool to ignite Sheila and Frankenmuth's passion for each other and
then discarded while still taken up in the heat of the moment. These
two should pay some small price for that. She looked down at the
flashing button, and up again at the MRI unit. The opening in that
cylinder looked awfully tight...
She slammed her hand down on the "start" button, which
illuminated several others. Chris found the one marked "transport"
and punched it. To her satisfaction, the table began moving toward the
cylinder. The two madly fucking people on it didn't even notice.
Frankenmuth and Sheila were completely intertwined in each other, as
close together as they could get. A very propitious thing, since they
just barely cleared the opening of the cylinder as the table
disappeared into it. It was going to be very difficult for them to
get out of there.
Chris clenched a fist in a silent "yes!" gesture and made a
beeline for the door. It was just swinging closed behind her when she
started hearing surprised yells coming from the lab: "Ouch! Hey!
What the hell?! Chris? Where are you? What'd you do? Chris?! This
isn't funny, move the table back out! Chris!!"
She had made it to the main doors to the building when the
shouting started getting frantic. "Help, somebody! Get us out of
here!" She saw a maintenance man running toward her down the
corridor. Working hard to keep a straight face, she hooked a thumb
over her shoulder in the general direction of the lab. The man nodded
and kept running. Chris walked slowly and purposefully out to her
car. Once inside its safe confines, she started laughing, and didn't
stop until she got home. I'd like to be a fly on the wall at the next
hospital staff meeting, she thought.
She never saw Sheila Ellis or Dr. Frankenmuth again.