a lactation and breast expansion story by Dan Standing
This short story has been adapted as a graphic novel in SexyFantasyComics.com.
I’m amazed my nipples don’t get sore, given all the attention they get now. I don’t mean everyone else’s attention – I mean, yes, they are hard not to notice these days, but I was referring to the attention I have to give them.
I don’t know how much of that day I really remember, or how much has been filled in by dreams. My chest was so flat then…I wore bras just to give my upper body curves of any kind. My nipples would barely even reach the fabric inside of the brassiere cups. I wouldn’t say I wasn’t jealous of more endowed women, but I hadn’t ever really considered doing anything about my lack of breasts.
Then there was that woman at the mall. She was in a lab coat, standing by a temporary hutch set up in the middle of the pathway between shops. A sandwich board on the hard tile floor read “Non-invasive Cosmetic Enhancements – Free Trials Today!”
I don’t know why I stopped when she approached me. I’d avoided plenty of cell phone sales reps and mall massage people before, but when she started talking to me I halted in my tracks. She asked if I was interested in a larger chest. I nodded – I mean, I wouldn’t not want one. I followed her into the hutched area, behind a curtain, and was instructed to sit down.
I remember pulling my shirt and bra over my head at her request. She pulled up a strange green light and started applying some sort of creme to my nipples and chest.
“This is going to stimulate lactation. Every two hours your breasts will fill with milk, enlarging your bust by half an inch…” the woman said, as I absently nodded my head, “…if you drain your breasts within about ten minutes of filling you won’t gain any mass long-term, but if you leave the milk in there this procedure will cause your body to turn the milk into fatty tissue and the size increase will become permanent.”
It sounded ridiculous and I figured that in about eight hours – when she said the application would finally activate my glands – I’d have found this to be a waste of my time. I didn’t even listen to what she had to say about my nipples. I bid her farewell and went about my day, dropping the papers she handed me into a trashcan.
I don’t know what it felt like the first time my tiny breasts filled with milk – I was asleep. I also don’t know what it felt like the first time my breasts turned the liquid to fat, since I was still asleep. But I noticed it the second time.
I remember waking up earlier than usual, a strange tingle, warmth, and tightness in my chest. I was wearing my usual sleepwear – an old t-shirt and panties – and I groggily wandered into the bathroom. Turning on the light it took a few moments for me to see my reflection as my eyes adjusted to the brightness. But then I couldn’t look away.
My shirt had a slightly larger curve than I usually had, even with a bra. But the presence of two nubby nipples poking at the fabric was proof I wasn’t wearing one. In disbelief I pulled my shirt off and stared at my upper body. The curve of my breasts indeed hung about an inch off my ribs. I had gone from an AA cup to a B in four hours!
Gingerly I pinched my nipples, and the sensation of two drops of white liquid beading at the tips of my teats was actually sort of pleasant – it offset the somewhat distracting and tight sensation of liquid inside my flesh. Pulling my hands away and watching the miniscule amount of milk trace a light white line down the curve of each ball of flesh I took note of the time; 6 am. Doing some quick adding I realized my new size would be permanent soon.
Indeed, I didn’t have to wait long. I felt a warm, erotic feeling swell up from inside each mammary. I actually stretched my back and neck, pushing up onto the balls of my feet slightly as the heat rose. I could feel myself getting turned on. After about 30 seconds the heat in my chest passed, and the taut curve of my skin relaxed slightly. My breasts now each had a little natural slope.
The heat in my groin, however, didn’t pass. My breathing was deep and haggard, and as I watched my enlarged boobs rising and falling on my chest I realized I wasn’t going to be able to wait out the wetness between my legs. Without even the thought of going back to my bed I pushed down my panties, sat my slim ass on the puffy throw carpet atop the bathroom’s tiled floor, and quickly fingered myself to a long moan. My clit was not the only thing my hands had tended to, and I could have sworn my breasts – especially the nipples – were just the slightest bit more sensitive.
My sudden carnal cravings sated I went about getting my morning underway. I ate breakfast. I put together my outfit for work, discovering that now my bras would actually do their intended job. I did some quick online surfing. I washed. I brushed, both my teeth and short brunette bob. And I got ready to head out to the subway.
Just before leaving, however, I began to notice my chest getting tight again. Looking to the clock I realized it was nearly quarter-of-eight. A cold chill accompanied a somewhat worrisome realization. It was nearly two hours since my breasts last filled and grew…was this going to happen every two hours? I kicked myself for not thinking of this earlier; but why would I have? The whole idea was impossible.
I looked down at myself. These were all the curves I needed, really. My body type was small and slim, and there was no reason for me to become too top-heavy.
I went to the bathroom, undoing the buttons of my blouse and slipping my arms out of the bra straps. I didn’t want to make a mess so I leaned over the bathtub – which was fairly awkward in my heels – and started tugging on my teats. I could feel the liquid moving within me, but for some reason it wouldn’t come out. Glancing at the clock I realized it was five-of-eight now; I was going to miss my train. I was beginning to wonder if I wouldn’t be able to drain any milk until the top of the hour.
Giving my slightly tender and swollen nipples a break I waited. At 8 am on the dot there was a tingle across my skin, and a warming sensation grew. Quickly I leaned over the drain and grasped each fleshy nozzle and pulled – streams of white pushed out and splattered across the smooth basin. After a few minutes both breasts were emptied. The sensation of milking myself had indeed been erotic, but not quite as overwhelming as my experience earlier. Making sure my skin was dry I readjusted my bra and top and made my way to the subway.
I had to wait for the next train, and then it was another half an hour before I finally walked into the restaurant. I hoped my boss, Mr. Coriander, hadn’t noticed my tardiness, but that was not to be the case. It wasn’t my first time late and my fellow waitresses were struggling to cover my section in the crowded eatery. All the chins under Mr. Coriander’s round face jiggled as he said he’d discuss my lateness later.
I got to work. Around 9:45 I felt the milk production begin again. Very gently, over the next fifteen minutes, I could feel my bra getting slightly tighter. I made sure that at 10 I was away from any tables and locked myself in the bathroom. A few quick tugs later and my breasts were back to their inch-depth…like a couple biscuits proudly displayed on my chest. Readjusting everything I noticed the swelling in my nipples didn’t seem to be going down. I cursed myself for throwing away the pamphlets the woman had given me, and resolved to head back to the mall after my shift.
The next hour and forty-five minutes went without incident. However, it was just my luck that as I was trying to find a window of opportunity to return to the bathroom a group of about fifteen students on break from Lyon State arrived, and I had to help push together tables for them. I tried to sneak away so I could come back and take their orders but Coriander was there, and they kept asking questions about “sweetened or unsweetened?” or “Why only one cola and not the other?” and before I knew it I could feel the heat in my chest and groin rising. I knew sweat was beading and my legs were weak, and although over thirty eyes were on and off me the fire betwixt my legs was so powerful I couldn’t help but unconsciously squeeze my thighs together as everything went damp down there.
Their drink order finally finished, and Mr. Coriander’s attention elsewhere, I ran to the bathroom. Leaning against the cleanest wall I exposed my breasts with one hand while snaking the other hand down to my flower, which felt like it was in a hot-house. I never thought I’d be pleasuring myself in a work-place restroom, but I could tell my need wasn’t going to pass by itself. I could not work the day with this ball of desire pulsing between my thighs every second. I bit my lip and slammed my body against the wall, trying to stay quiet while the orgasm rolled over me.
Panting, I grabbed no small amount of toilet paper to dry off everything I could. Once I had stopped my skin from dripping I took a look at my breasts while I adjusted the bra to accommodate another half-inch. I hadn’t needed to be bigger, but it was manageable.
I’d like to say the next two hours went better, but they didn’t. The Lyon State table was a nightmare to wait on, but that wasn’t what kept me from emptying out another half-inch…Mr. Coriander called me into his office just before 2. I had a choice…either gain an extra half-inch and get hot and horny in front of my disgusting boss, or get fired.
What can I say…I was behind in rent.
I was already mostly filled with milk by the time I sat down in the chair across from Coriander. His speech consisted of threats of termination and what-not if I didn’t resolve my tardiness issue. I wasn’t really listening. Once the window of drainage passed all I was thinking about was how soaked my panties were getting. I wondered if I was going to leave a spot on his chair. I wondered if he noticed my flushed skin, or fidgeting thighs.
I’m still thankful that I wasn’t so horny to consider coming on to him.
When he had finally finished I blew through the serving floor to the bathroom and repeated my relief from earlier. Examining myself in the mirror there was no doubt I now sported two inches on my bust…my C-cup breasts were as thick as golf balls, and at least twice as wide. My nipples, which didn’t seem to have an off-state anymore, were like resilient pencil erasers.
Nothing stopped me from draining the girls at 4, and at 5 I was on the subway to the mall.
Where I found nothing. No woman. No hutch. No evidence there had ever been a hutch. No knowledge at the Information desk of there having been the ability to set up a hutch in that location. My mind was so wrapped up in how fucked I was that I got back on the subway to go home without thinking about what would happen at 6.
This is probably where, in some crazy porn story, I’d explain how my breasts permanently growing another half-inch on public transportation lead to crazy sex. That probably would have made the trip easier, but if you’ve ever ridden the train here you’d understand why there isn’t anyone I would have considered even as attractive as Coriander. So the real deal was that I got to sit and stew in my own juices for nearly forty minutes before stumbling off at my stop. As I sidled my way home, certain that slick wetness was sliding down my thigh with every step, I finally knew for certain there was no way to wait out long-term this feeling that growing-for-keepsies gave me. Only the knowledge that I’d grind my ass raw on the cement kept one foot stepping in front of the other.
I stumbled to the floor in my entry way and kicked the door closed. I was on my chest, rubbing my breasts through my shirt and bra into the well-tread carpet. My ass was in the air, skirt and panties peeled away as ten fingers went at my folds and I was finally able to let out a little scream.
Picking myself up from the smelly rug I stripped off everything and went to examine myself. With my small, slim frame I was just at the point of rediculousness. My hair was matted to my face, my nipples stuck out at the tips of my tits, my skin glistened with sweat and other juices…I was shocked at how slutty I looked. I resolved that this would be the end of any permanent growth. I managed to keep to that promise at 8, and drained my breasts without any issue while I showered all the day’s embarrassment away.
But passing out in bed at 9:30 didn’t help.
My alarm woke me up at 5:30. But I didn’t actually wake to real consciousness; I woke to sexual insanity. My breasts had grown – and gone permanent – four times over the course of the night, each one ramping up my libido. My thighs were slick with juices, my mattress and sheets stained from the lubrication still pouring from my loins. Never before did I wish so hard that I had some sort of dildo to shove inside me, as I could tell fingers alone could not fully sate me. After half an hour of ramming as many digits as I could within my folds – maxing out at four – I finally screamed out the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced.
As my toes uncurled and released the sheets my legs slumped down onto the damp bed – they had been the only thing I lifted up during the slick session. My pussy still wanted something inside it but at least I was in control again. My breathing was heavy, but that was only partially out of exhaustion…the weight of my tits on my ribs was intense.
I’m only 5’4″ and my breasts were standing atop me at over four inches of warm flesh…7% of my vertical height. At three pounds each…I didn’t want to even calculate that relation.
Pushing back my arms I levered myself up…the slide of my tit flesh as gravity continued to tug on them pulled me forward. They were heavy, but didn’t hurt…I wondered if the woman’s meddling with my body included some sort of change to my musculature. If so I was at least grateful for that.
Standing up wasn’t terribly difficult. Even though there wasn’t any pain I was constantly aware of their weight. They swung out across the front of my ribs a full ten inches, nearly obstructing my arms. Every step sent a wave of jiggling and swinging.
I couldn’t go in to work. Not like this. I knew there was nothing in my wardrobe to hide or support these, and I wouldn’t be able to buy something new and get back to the restaurant in time to avoid being late. I called in, hoping it wouldn’t be Coriander who picked up – it wasn’t. I gave my excuse for taking the day off and hung up, letting out a long sigh.
How the hell was I going to sleep? I was okay for now, but another night or two of this and I seriously wouldn’t be able to walk! I racked my brain for a few moments before a thought came to me. I grabbed some panties, pants, and a jacket to cover my chest and went for the door…then turned around to first empty my breasts as I felt the six o’clock fill begin. I had to start paying better attention to the time.
Emptied and reset for another two hours I walked down the street to the drug store on the corner. I seriously needed new bras, and soon; my nipples swung and rubbed against the interior of the jacket, and the sensitivity of my new flesh was hard to ignore. Inside the store they had all sorts of things, and the first item I grabbed was one of those outlet timers used for outdoor twinkle lights.
I then went to the maternity section.
After a few moments I found what I was looking for; an electric breast pump. A cheap sports bra finished that portion of my shopping and I also grabbed a couple cheap t-shirts that seemed large enough to cover me without looking as tight as bathing suit tops.
Behind the counter was a guy about my age…cute, too. Any other time I would have been thrilled to chat with him, but with the collection of items I had to buy I couldn’t have been more embarrassed.
“This a gift?” he asked, flashing me a smile as he picked up the pump.
“No…” I was too tired and frustrated to be bothered to lie, “That’s for me.”
“Really?” he replied, legitimately confused, “You don’t seem to be showing at all, just prepping early?”
“Not, uh…not pregnant…” I softly answered.
It looked as if he wanted to further explore the subject but his own social politeness must have stopped him. I paid for everything and started to leave, and as I did he quietly called after me, “If you have any questions let me…us know.”
Back at my apartment I set to work. I cut holes in each cup of the bra, slipped the business ends of the pump inside, and tried it on. Satisfied with the snugness and fit I set everything aside, ate some breakfast, and changed the bed sheets while I waited for eight o’clock. And it wasn’t long before I could feel the usual fill starting.
Putting my contraption back on I waited. As the top of the hour came I flipped the switch.
And nearly jumped out of my skin!
The suction…the feeling of expelling…seeing the white liquid feed away from me…it was crazy! After a few minutes I felt emptied and I turned off the system, making note of the time. I could feel that still-empty need between my legs, and this experience had not helped things. But I had to focus. I went over to my nightstand and set the timer to turn on the power for a few minutes after the top of the hour every two hours during the night.
I grinned at my temporary solution.
That taken care of I spent the rest of the day shopping. I was stuck with these grapefruits on my chest for the rest of my life and I needed bras and clothes for them. It was how things were. With some research and timing I was able to get through the day finding the bathrooms I needed to ensure no further growth.
The first night with my apparatus was fitful. I didn’t sleep very well, since every two hours I had a machine sucking on my tits. I also made the discovery that the pump’s administrations further stimulated the growth of my nipples…they were now permanently as big as the end of my pointer finger.
I made it in to work that morning, and things were going well until shortly after two in the afternoon. I fell asleep in the restroom waiting to empty myself. My now E-cup tits bounced and swung from my ribs as I sated the accompanying horniness…and noted the emptiness from the other night was still with me.
The next few days started to go better. As my body adjusted to the nightly interruptions I slept more soundly. I was working out better routines to more artfully sneak into the restroom every two hours at work. Sure, my chest was pretty silly compared to my frame, but I was getting the best tips of my life. Mr. Coriander even remarked one day that business seemed to be picking up. The other waitresses seemed to be even cattier to me than before, but I had never liked them anyway. Although my nipples were soon the size of thumbs thanks to the pump, things overall seemed pretty good.
Then, at a very deep moment of sleep one night, I rolled over too far and disconnected one of the pumps by accident. When I finally woke up three periods of permanent growth had gone by…my left breast was over an inch bigger than my right.
I didn’t cry or scream, even though it was the first time I really wanted to. This was my life now. And I had no recourse…I called off from work and over the next six hours emptied my larger breast while leaving the other to catch up.
My libido was a right mess at the end of it…and the emptiness was even greater.
Once I’d finished masturbating, as my breasts became even again, for the first time I felt trapped. One doesn’t really appreciate what six inches means until it’s hanging in front of you in two big four-pound balls. Thanks to the natural slope I had fourteen inches of tit hanging across the front of my body. And the risk of getting even bigger, becoming more freakish, would be with me the rest of my life.
Once I was done feeling bad for myself I headed back down to the drug store for a new sports bra…the one attached to my contraption no longer fit. I didn’t even realize I was wearing the same jacket as I had from my first visit until the same cute guy recognized me.
“Hey, welcome…” he had clearly noted my larger chest and brain spasmed mid-sentence, “…back. How are you?”
The question was more than just employee to customer…he knew the chest in front of him was not supposed to be attached to someone as petite as I. There was real concern in his voice.
And I finally lost it.
Everything I had bottled up, every tear I hadn’t yet cried and every scream I hadn’t yet screamed, it all came pouring out. The growing. The woman. The worry. The pumps. I managed to bite my tongue before saying how horny I’d been. Even though I was the only customer I was unbelievably embarrassed by my public breakdown. I wanted to run outside but I was so tired from my tirade I fell to the floor in a heap of tears. My enormous udders bounced hard and pulled the zipper open slightly as they heaved against the inside of my jacket. My roughly touched nipples sent a jolt to my groin which only made me more upset.
The guy was at my side instantly. I swear, he must have jumped the counter. Honest concern was in his eyes, and he managed to zip my jacket back up without even copping a feel. He tried to comfort me, abstaining from saying I had every woman’s dream and instead reminding me I had risen to the challenge and had figured out how to initially beat this curse. He was certain I could do so still, I just needed some support.
I kissed him.
As we both pulled away I wasn’t sure what to do. His concern, attractiveness, and the buzz between my legs had been a killer triumvirate whose moment I was more than willing to grasp, but the follow-through I was stammering on.
He asked me to dinner, and told me when he’d be off work.
Suffice it to say that need between my legs has been dealt with. And there have been many nights I don’t have to use that little apparatus. It’s been a few months now and we’ve figured out a system which has kept me at an F cup…and although I know he loves these melons of mine (and some nights has certainly gotten me to love them), I know that even if I ever found a way to undo this he’d be there for me with just as much passion and love.
And that’s the best thing I’ve ever gotten from a trip to the mall.