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Bad Roommate - Female Version, Parts 17-20
🕑 Added 2025-02-16 03:26:48 +0000 UTC$7/Bronze Directory
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Summary: Violet's stomach progressively transforms into a giant breast. Contains: Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, belly-breast, and more.
This story is a work of fiction. As specified through the story, all characters featured in this work are 18 years of age or older.
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17.
“Oh fuck,” Alex breathed, unable to help marveling at her huge belly. Even after a long session with the breast pump, it still looked massive.
She just sat there panting, trying to catch her breath. Her face was flushed, her skin dewy with sweat. She was suddenly reminded of Violet as she gazed at the way her own abdomen was stretching out her sweatshirt, some of the mound pushing out beneath the hem.
Alex lightly shook her head, trying to shove those thoughts aside. She tugged again at her sweatshirt, trying to improve the coverage as she shuffled out of the bathroom, her stride feeling awkward. God, was she starting to waddle?
“Look what you did,” Alex said as she found Milton still sprawled languidly on the bed.
Milton responded with a low whistle, seeming impressed by his handiwork.
“I look pregnant,” Alex went on, motioning at her inflated stomach as she glared down at him. “I’m fucking waddling.”
“You are?” he said, sitting up slightly, his lip curling in amusement. And to Alex’s disbelief, he was getting aroused again. It was all just a game.
Fed up, Alex turned and left the bedroom.
-
Her body was relentless. It was constantly swelling up, working and producing greater quantities of milk. In the following days, Alex found it prudent to just leave the pump attached to her belly-nipple. She sat back and watched TV as it hummed and pumped, sometimes causing her to grunt or grimace, but she was getting used to the sensation.
She would lose track of time and let it run continuously, only coming out of her reverie when the gallon-sized tank overflowed and started spilling milk onto the floor. She would pause her TV show try to clean up. Her life had gotten truly bizarre.
“You still angry?”
Alex looked up to see Milton standing in the living room doorway. She must have truly lost track of time to not realize that he had come home from work.
She looked away and resumed her clumsy efforts of leaning down and trying to gather up the heavy, overflowing container, moving awkwardly because of the huge mound sticking out from her torso.
Lately, she had been giving Milton the silent treatment. It was always strangely gratifying to see him sigh and walk off despondently to their bedroom after a long day at the office.
But today he wasn’t backing off.
“What are we doing here?” Milton said as he stepped forward.
Alex stilled, not looking up. She was sitting at the edge of the couch, the tank top she had on now skintight. It clung against the four plump, heavy F-cups on her chest, not even pulling halfway over the immense belly-breast presently perched against Alex’s lap. Again, she glanced up at Milton, her lips twisted in a frown.
“You take that lactation pill every day,” he went on with increasing determination. “Still do. ‘Cuz we both like seeing you grow. You like it. Don’t deny it.”
Alex felt breathless. She never really thought about their little pill routine. It had gone on for weeks — maybe months now. It was habit. Taking the supplement every morning, usually when Milton was around to see her do it. And as a consequence, Alex filled up more.
“That’s the whole deal, the whole game,” Milton went on as he approached. “That’s why it’s fun.”
He leaned down, closing in, and Alex couldn’t help gripping onto his blazer. Just the conversation was turning them on. Taking the pills might have been truly insane, but it was also fucking intense. The heat, the fullness. The pressure was world-consuming. It was part of her being. Alex could hardly make sense of her pleasurable dilemma.
Milton joined her on the couch, pulling her closer. Alex’s belly pressed firmly into him, some milk seeping out, getting on his clothes. To Alex, it all felt good. It felt warm.
His hands cupped the swell. “Beautiful.”
-
At the club, Milton always liked to flaunt their relationship, but also Alex’s bizarre body. Alex saw her condition as something secret and embarrassing, yet there was something strangely hot and illicit about her weird and sexual developments.
She hardly knew where Milton got the custom clothes orders, but she would still wear them. Presently, she was dressed in a skirt and blouse that was tight and stretchy, buttons pulling apart in some places to show diamonds of flesh. She suspected that Milton had ordered it to just barely fit her.
Sometimes Alex wondered what the other people in the VIP lounge thought of her. Did they think that she had gotten cosmetic surgery? Did they think that she just kept gaining weight in the most unusual of places? Did they think she was a science experiment, or an alien? Were they all in denial or too inebriated to care either way?
It wasn’t as though Alex had a monopoly on depravity. She saw all sorts of sordid things going down in the VIP area.
“Yeah, can’t believe summer is almost over.” She was making small-talk with some new guy as they both sipped drinks.
“Yeah...” said the guy, his gaze trailing between Alex’s face and her torso repeatedly. Sometimes he would look down at his scotch in concern.
A pair of strong arms wrapped around Alex from behind, reaching down to cup the swell of her belly. She smiled as she leaned back against Milton’s chest. He gave a squeeze that made her groan, her face heating.
“Uhh, this is Milton,” Alex explained belatedly to the new guy, who was giving her a look of increasing bafflement. “Milton, I would like to introduce you to my new friend, Mr…ah…?”
“Fern,” he said. “But you’ll have to…excuse me. I think I need some water.” Fern smiled tightly and walked off.
She looked down at her empty glass, then gently pulled away from Milton. “Need a drink myself. You want anything?”
“I’m set,” he responded, smiling in amusement as he watched her waddle off. Alex threw him a rude hand gesture, playfully.
She left the VIP lounge and slipped into the main part of the club because the bar there had the type of vodka she favored. It was dark, and late, and everyone was drunk. Alex doubted that anyone here would pay attention to her, and honestly, she was too buzzed to care.
She pushed her way through the throbbing bodies, grimacing as she tried her best to shield her belly with her arms from all the pressure and stimulation of it rubbing against the masses.
Alex was sweating by the time she got across the dance floor. She had to press her belly hard into the bar just to lean over and talk to the bartender. She winced, cupping her side as she pulled back. She really didlook like she was pregnant. Overdue, even.
Alex breathed deeply as she waited for her drink, when she heard a soft chuckle beside her. Looking up, she felt her face break into a smile. “Conrad, it’s been a while.” She clinked her empty glass to Conrad’s full one.
“Work’s been busy,” he responded, smiling back. “A good thing, I suppose.” He sipped his drink as he gave Alex a onceover. But it wasn’t judgmental or disturbed. Humored, maybe. “Well, it looks like you’vebeen having fun. Milton’s certainly done a number on your body.”
Alex blushed but couldn’t help chuckling. “Yeah, we’re not the most…logical pairing. Or sane, for that matter.”
He laughed heartily.
As Alex again leaned on the bar to accept her drink from the bartender, a small gasp came up her throat, her eyes shuddering closed. Fuck, she thought, her hand moving to cup the dampening spot on her blouse at her navel. She usually had better control than this. She’d probably had too much to drink. Despite that thought, Alex took a gulp of her Moscow mule.
Conrad was still smiling and watching her. “Time’s up?”
“Yeah, I…better head out.” She blushed then downed the remainder of her beverage.
-
Sure, it was 4 AM, and she was pretty tipsy, but Alex was finding it impossible to get out of the car, try as she might to heave her ass off the seat.
Milton chuckled as he came over, taking her hands, helping her up as the driver stared at them through the rearview mirror.
Yet it was unnerving. Memories of Violet flashed through her mind again.
“Let’s go to bed,” Milton said as he pulled her towards the door.
“I’m pretty full,” she slurred as she absently cupped her tight belly.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he giggled, continuing to drag her inside. Alex had scarcely seen Milton so overtly drunk. It was so funny that Alex forgot her prior concerns.
They got to bed, too tired and tipsy to change out of their clothes.
“Come ‘ere,” Milton muttered, his eyes already closed.
Alex reached vaguely towards him, the room blurring. Against her better judgment, she let her own eyelids drop.
-
“Oh god, oh fuck…”
Alex squirmed as her belly-nipple was sucked, her stomach pink and sweaty, her face contorted in strain. She threw her head back, gasping and cursing. Milton had been at it for fifteen minutes and Alex didn’t feel any less stuffed.
Her fingers gripped his hair tighter, pulling him closer and harder against her packed belly. “God, suck me. Suck it harder. Fuhhhh…” Alex clenched her jaw as she looked down at herself.
She should have known better than to fall asleep when she was so engorged. She looked more than pregnant — due with twins, probably. Her belly was perched on her lap, her two pairs of fat breasts shelved by the mound. The front of her torso was just a collection of fat masses squished against each other. And shit, it was uncomfortable. Everything was so hot and full and engorged, but her gut felt the worst. Her belly felt tight to bursting.
“Should I get the pump?” Milton said breathlessly as he pulled off, his face flushed from his efforts.
“No,” Alex protested. “It-it’s better when you do it,” she managed between forceful gasps.
Milton looked dazed, maybe even tipsy. Was he somehow still drunk from last night, or was he…was he getting buzzed from Alex’s milk? Was that even possible? Was that why they told nursing mothers not to drink alcohol? Alex’s mind reeled at the thought.
“Right,” Milton said, still catching his breath. “Okay, so –”
Alex impatiently fisted his hair and pulled him back down. Dutifully, he resumed drinking.
-
It must have been another twenty minutes before she let him stop.
“God,” Alex breathed as she stretched out across the mattress, her breast pump now attached to her belly-nipple, extracting more of her milk, albeit slower than Milton could. Her belly was still round and plump but no longer stinging with pain; no longer looking as though it was about to pop.
Milton marveled at her. “God, you’re a machine.”
“No kidding,” she huffed. She was exhausted. Just having this bodywas exhausting. Things were getting out of control. “I’m a fucking cow.” Alex winced as she said it, but it was true. She was a milk-machine. Likely, she produced more than an actual cow could. She gave a hysterical little chuckle at the thought.
He rubbed her belly, idly.
“I’m growing so fast,” Alex mumbled, eyes closing. “I-I almost couldn’t get up last night. From the car. Remember?”
“You were fine. You were drunk,” Milton responded dismissively as he continued to stroke Alex’s round flesh.
But Alex was still uneasy. Maybe they were going too far.
-
Becca was staying with them for a few weeks. Alex hadn’t even known how close the woman was to Milton until Becca had shown up at the door, crying incoherently.
Becca was pregnant, and somehow she hadn’t known. Apparently her belly had just popped out in the third trimester, and the father wanted nothing to do with it.
Now Becca was hanging onto Milton for emotional support. She was like a groupie or something. Daddy issues, Alex thought. She gave Milton a look from where she was sitting across from him at the kitchen table.
“You don’t know how much this sucks,” Becca whined, her voice muffled by the muffin she was chomping on. “Twins, Milton. I’m a freakin’ blimp.”
Honestly, Alex couldn’t disagree. Becca was gigantic.
“You look fine,” Milton countered, but he had that wry curve to his lips. He promptly hid it behind his coffee mug. Of course he would find this funny.
“And my boobs have been feeling so weird lately. Now I know how you feel, Alex.”
Alex reddened and bit her tongue. She forced a smile as she returned her attention to the Robotics article she had been reading on her phone, her smile dropping again.
“Why don’t you get off your feet?” Milton suggested. Becca was hovering by the counter, rapidly demolishing the box of muffins Milton had just picked up not half hour ago.
“Yeah, sure,” was Becca’s bitter response as she gathered the box in her arms and waddled to the table.
She gripped the chair and sat down slowly, similar to the way Alexsat, Alex noted in mortification.
“I feel bad with you having to take care of me, all preggers and waddling,” Becca went on bitterly.
“Oh, I’m used to it,” Milton responded lightly. “I take care of Alex, don’t I?”
He winked at Alex, who felt her face redden more. “It’s not even closeto the same situation, and I’m pretty sure I take care of myself,” Alex said in irritation, glaring at him.
“Well, it’s similar, but…not really,” Becca added, at seeing Alex’s dangerous expression.
“I should get to work.” Milton stood.
“Yeah, I’m gonna head upstairs,” Alex added, heaving herself up with some effort.
“Oh, don’t run off because of me. I’ll leave,” Becca said apologetically, also standing and turning, then suddenly she and Alex’s bellies unexpectedly collided, two big bumps just squashing together.
Alex was so startled, she felt herself seeping, her milk dampening the front of Becca’s maternity dress. Becca was full term with multiples, and as Alex stared at both of their mounds, she found herself wondering if she wasn't bigger than Becca was.
“S-sorry,” Alex stammered, taking an awkward step back, her hands shooting down to cradle her swell.
“It’s okay!” Becca insisted, hands up in capitulation.
Milton just looked amused again.
“I, um, I’m g-gonna change,” Alex said, and she left the kitchen.
18.
Alex felt humiliated.
She found herself locked in the laundry room, breathing heavily, her mind reeling from the knowledge that she was bigger than Becca. Becca, who was almost at term with fucking twins.
Alex thought of all the amused smiles, the inside jokes, and the eye-rolls she and Milton had exchanged at Becca’s expense. Becca would whine that she was “as big as a house,” to which Alex would mouth “bigger,” causing Milton to snort in silent laughter.
Now Alex was starting to wonder if she herself was the one who had been the butt of all these jokes. Alex had wanted to think she was imagining it, but she had seen the comparison with her own two eyes. With her abdomen pressed to Becca’s, it had been abundantly clear that Alex’s was bigger.
Alex supposed it was true that most people had no perspective of the size of their own bodies. Milton would have noticed. But had he mentioned anything?
Alex inhaled deeply, then pushed the air out of her lungs. She took several more long breaths, trying to temper her humiliation. She supposed this was karma. She had been the one making the jokes, after all.
Alex pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes, trying to steadily calm herself down. Her navel was nudging against the washing machine where she stood, the metallic surface pleasantly cool even through the T-shirt stretched over Alex’s form.
This was stupid. Why was she freaking out over something so dumb? Who the hell cared about how she compared to Becca? It was such an arbitrary comparison. It wasn’t as if Alex didn’t know she was fucking massive. Her hand trembled slightly as she palmed the side of the huge swell of her belly. She choked out a bitter laugh as her eyes drifted over the surrounding paraphernalia. They paused on a drying rack, where she saw a single piece of clothing hanging crisp there, probably since the day before. It was Becca’s. It was some sort of —girdle. For her pregnancy. Alex reached out, fingers closing around the freshly washed material, confirming that it was completely dry now.
Alex could tell that the material was stretchy. She lifted it from the rack, bringing it closer, holding it up to herself. She wasn’t sure why, but she found herself undoing the latches, and stretching it across her protruding swell. Albeit round, her belly-breast was very soft and malleable, always jiggling and wobbling as her back arched and strained to support it. As with some of Becca’s other pregnancy-specific attire and gadgets, this contraption certainly intrigued Alex. She found herself wrapping the girdle around her own waist, gingerly at first, but then with effort as she stretched it, trying to fit it across the full extent of her mass. If it suited Becca, then certainly it would fit her.
Alex groaned, twisting and straining as she tried to get the clasps to connect. She probably should have emptied herself first. That would have done it. But she was sure she could just — “Errgghhh…” she groaned, her milk-filled belly shuddering, as if to protest her efforts to confine it.
God, she was close. Just another inch and — Alex grunted as all five of her nipples pulsed, the one at her core tensing and aching, getting ready to release against the pressure. She stumbled back against the wall, refusing to relinquish this task, because she was so close. Her face reddened as her belly warmed and tightened, the four breasts wobbling on her chest already leaking persistent droplets of milk.
The sound of a shriek caused Alex to freeze. The girdle snapped away from her, then dropped to the floor. Panting, she waddled to the laundry room door, her hands cradling her packed belly to keep it from bobbing too excessively. “Becca?” Alex gasped out as she opened the door, stumbling out of the laundry room.
Becca responded with a whining noise somewhere down the hall, maybe in the living room. “Alex,” she cried out, her voice thick with pain. “Oh god, I think —ngghhhhhh —I’m in labor!”
-
Milton met them at the hospital. He had Becca taken to a luxury maternity wing with large, private suites reserved for public figures, celebrities, and ultra-wealthy families. Becca was attended to by a swarm of the best OB-GYNs in the city. Despite all the thrashing, cursing, screaming, and writhing, she had a surprisingly fast labor, her twins arriving in only six hours.
While Milton stayed by her side for the whole process, Alex hung back, rather uncomfortable between the frequent stares she got from the surrounding doctors and nurses, to that perpetual, physical discomfort that filled her body. She excused herself to the bathroom several times, where she could breathe, cup herself, or sometimes dig her pumps out of her satchel and offer herself a little relief from the mounting tension. She felt overheated, her body drenched in sweat. Which was unsurprising, given that Alex was wearing a massive baggy jacket that would have been amorphous on anyone else, but still rather framed her abnormalities. It was just another feeble attempt to hide what had become of her. Honestly, she was not sure why she bothered.
Alex leaned down and splashed her face with cool water, groaning as her tender belly-nipple pressed against the edge of the porcelain sink. The four breasts stacked on her chest were hot and bloated, aching for attention. She found that she was attending to those with decreasing frequency as the demands of her belly-breast grew more intense by the day. Dealing with her over-laden body almost felt like a full-time job. It was a good thing she didn’t have an actual job, Alex supposed.
With a sigh, she pushed herself out of the bathroom, and returned to Becca’s suite, trying to look pleasant and invisible at the same time. Alex was relieved to see that the doctors and nurses had all left by then, offering Becca some privacy. Milton stood beside the bed, gazing fondly at Becca as she cradled two little pink bundles of blankets in her arms.
Alex could not help smiling as she joined Milton at the bedside. Becca looked enamored by her sleeping newborns. “Congratulations,” Alex said softly.
Becca raised her head to beam at her, tears visible in the corners of her eyes. She looked beautiful. Alex could not help noticing how Becca’s body had changed, her abdomen no longer looking inflated under the sheets pulled over her. There may have still been a little weight there, but she had otherwise gone back to normal. She had shed the weight the twins had added to her body, and had returned to being a slim, flexible, wholly-functional young woman.
Alex felt a twinge of jealousy. Which was ridiculous. There was no comparison. It was not as though Alex could just take her weight off. Even if she somehow got all the gallons of milk she was carrying pumped out of her, there was still a huge amount of flesh, fat, and, Alex supposed, glandular tissue, that made up her breasts. Not to mention that it would all rapidly fill up again with even more milk. There would be no reprieve. This was just what she was now.
“Aren’t they beautiful?” Becca asked, her voice thick. Alex opened her mouth to respond, but then she saw one of the twins stir, mouth opening wide, face scrunching adorably.
Then the baby started to cry: a hoarse, squalling noise. Alex’s heart raced, her eyes widening as she felt — “Nrrgghhhh…” she groaned as all five of her nipples started to sting, then an unbelievable pressure pulsed through all her mounds, flesh tightening, straining, and pushing out.
Her jacket started hugging into her as Alex puffed out a breath, hunching forward as she clutched her massive belly-breast. It was growing. Her heart pounded in her ears as the wails of the infant continued to reverberate off her skull. Soon the other twin joined in, Alex’s belly achingly tight, milk gushing into her jacket as her mounds continued to throb with growth.
Becca and Milton were gaping at her in shock. Alex’s jacket started to tear, her back arching, her abdomen tensing painfully, pushing and tightening, growing bigger and wider, feeling ready to burst from the surges of milk rapidly blooming inside of it.
Somehow, Alex managed to stagger towards the door. “I –” she choked out, “— h-have to…” But she did not bother to finish her sentence. She had to get out of there, away from the crying. They were hungry. Alex whimpered as a quaver rolled through her mountainous belly, the four honeydews on her chest bobbing and squirting in tandem.
She got herself out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. She moaned deliriously as she stumbled a few steps down the hall, holding onto the wall. Then she leaned back against it, gasping for breath, and compulsively stroking and cradling her huge belly-breast where it now protruded free of her soaking jacket which was split right down the middle.
The sweater and shirt she had on were drawn up, no longer fully-covering the globe. A passing nurse gave her a disturbed look. Fluid was dripping from Alex’s top, and she knew she was making a puddle on the floor.
Still gasping for breath, Alex somehow straightened herself and resumed walking —waddling. She shuffled to the elevator, gripping what she could of her jacket around herself. In a daze, she descended, and found the exit, ignoring the people who gawked, stumbled, or just made way, as though afraid she might touch them. The car was pulled up at the pickup area.
“Milton notified me that you were on your way down, miss,” said the driver neutrally, keeping his eyes forward as Alex clambered into the back of the vehicle.
Alex did not respond, she just tried to breathe, acutely aware of how much heavier she felt now; how much more awkward everything had become abruptly. The back of Milton’s luxury car had never felt so cramped as it did at that moment, Alex’s massive belly-breast perched on her thighs, overfilling her lap. She felt squashed beneath it. It was so huge; it was taking over.
That morning she had been bigger than Becca. Becca, who had been due with twins. So how did Alex look now? As though she was pregnant with triplets? Quads? Alex gave a weak, bitter laugh. Then she just resumed breathing, trying to calm herself down. Calm her body down. A call came through on the intercom. “You there?” Milton’s voice said.
“Yeah,” Alex managed, rolling her eyes. She slumped back in her seat.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his tone aloof.
“Peachy.”
There was a pause. “That’s never happened before,” Milton noted.
“Yeah, well none of this has happened before,” Alex motioned to her body even though Milton couldn’t see her. “There’s not exactly a case study.” She grimaced at another twinge of pressure. She hurriedly tried to clear her mind; not think about Becca or anything. “Mgghhh…”
Milton snorted. “I’ll be down in a couple minutes.” Then the call disconnected.
A couple of minutes. Alex briefly humored the idea of convincing the driver to just take her home without waiting for Milton. But it seemed like this enterprise would require more energy than Alex had to offer. So instead, she simply dropped her head back and closed her eyes.
-
Alex was wiped out. It seemed like her body was in overdrive. Everything was hazy, even when Milton spoke, giving her a once-over every couple seconds with an odd look on his face. She would nod but did not really hear him. As soon as they got home, she went to bed and fell asleep, even with her milk continuing to gush into her straining clothing.
When Alex awoke some hours later, she was surprised to find an appropriately-sized suction cup attached to each of her nipples: likely Milton’s doing. It was surprisingly considerate, and Alex certainly appreciated it. The pump was humming away beside her, extracting milk at a comfortable rhythm.
She shoved herself upright, wincing as she plucked the cups away, one by one. It took some effort to heave herself off the bed, after which she pulled on the biggest shirt she could find, then shuffled out of the room, supporting what she could of her lower belly with her hands. I’m enormous, Alex thought, feeling overwhelmed with the soft, pillowy mass protruding from her body.
Milton was seated in the living room with a glass of wine. He had just finished a phone call when Alex walked in. He gazed at her, his lips quirked in amusement. “Look at you.”
“Yeah,” she breathed.
“Maybe you should borrow some of Becca’s maternity clothes,” he said facetiously.
“Shut up.” Alex reddened, her mind drifting back to her antics in the laundry room. But with how heavy this thing was getting, it didn’t seem like a bad idea to wear a girdle.
“That was actually her on the phone. I think she’s having some issues, or more like…reservations. I have no clue if she was joking, but she wanted to know if you have interest in donating some of your time or resources.”
Alex froze. Something bubbled inside of her, her face growing hot. “I’m not some fucking wet nurs—” Just saying it was triggering. Alex felt dizzy, her belly tensing. She tried to take retreat, but just ended up clutching an end-table to keep her balance.
“Yeah, it’s stupid. Ignore her,” Milton said, standing. He looked entirely relaxed as he approached, closing in. “She’s not blessed like you are.”
“You’re b-both idiots,” Alex stammered, but suddenly she couldn’t help smiling a little. At least Milton had broken the tension and disrupted the mental and physical landslide she had been headed down.
“The goods are only for me. I get it.”
“Fuck off.” On the contrary, he kissed her, Alex leaning in. And from there life proceeded sans one high-pitched interloper.
19.
It really did feel like a job now.
Even Alex’s sleep wasn’t spared from the demands of her body. She was waking up every two or three hours, unable to sleep through the mounting heat and tension. She would groggily sit up and attach her pumps, her belly bobbing as she gasped from the sensation of milk pulsing out of her.
She would wait until the 2-litter collection bottle filled completely, causing the machine to automatically shut off. Though not fully drained, she would be too exhausted to get up and empty the container. Instead, she would doze off for another few hours, until she was inevitably awoken by the latest bout of sharp tension, all her mammaries fully engorged again.
-
Alex gasped awake. It was early morning, the room illuminated by the pale glow of the sky behind the curtains.
“Nnrgghh…” she groaned, her hands cupping her pressurized belly, where it stuck out under the hem of the too-small tank top she had on. The mound was full and tight, pink and sweaty. Alex was panting as she fumbled on the bed. She had to get a fresh container, had to pump —
“Hey,” Milton’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
Alex looked up, only then noticing Milton standing there in his suit and tie. He was holding out the breast pump, which looked freshly cleaned, the container emptied.
Alex accepted it with shaking hands and attached it hurriedly to her belly-nipple before turning it on. Her eyelids fluttered as the machine got to work, her body relaxing as she sank deeper into her pillows. Her belly pulsed rhythmically as she huffed a sigh. Alex’s four chest-breasts were still tight and aching, but it wasn’t intolerable. She would deal with that shortly. “Thanks,” Alex managed as she threw her arm across her face, blocking out the light. She breathed deeply as she contemplated her unusual dilemma. Her body was just producing so much milk, she could hardly keep up anymore. And every time she was late to pump, she seemed to grow a notch, or several.
“My pleasure,” Milton said, his voice tinged with amusement. “I’m off to work.”
There was a pause between them that lingered awkwardly as Alex registered that Milton hadn’t moved. On the contrary, she could still feel him still watching her.
She pulled her arm away from her face, looking up to see Milton staring at her belly with that wistful hunger that meant he was reconsidering going to work at all.
“You have that meeting,” she pointed out, wryly.
Milton’s lip curled. “A shame,” he muttered, as he adjusted his tie. He gave Alex one more long, lascivious look, before he finally left.
Alex sighed and turned her gaze towards the ceiling. Her chest heaved with her deep breathing, all four of her swollen breasts wobbling gently under the shirt stretched across them. She couldn’t believe how crazy things were getting. Her body was a damn milk-machine.
And she was exhausted.
-
It wasn’t unusual for Alex to lick her hand, tasting a stray trickle of milk when she was cleaning the pump or emptying a container. But that afternoon, the flavor gave her pause, her eyelids sinking as she stood there by the kitchen sink, her swollen belly pressing against the counter. Was it getting sweeter? Alex had never been opposed to the flavor, though had always thought it weird to consume something that had come out of her own body. Recycling her own fluids, so to speak. It always seemed gross somehow, even if it had never tasted anything but pleasant. But with everything that had happened with Violet — it just made sense to not even think about that sort of thing.
But it was definitely sweeter now. The taste actually reminded Alex a lot of Violet’s milk, yet still unique in a substantial way that was indescribable. It was no wonder Milton liked it so much. Milton could never seem to get enough of it. It might have even been better than Violet’s. Alex pondered this as she trailed her tongue along her hand. Thick, creamy, and sweet. Yet comforting, almost buttery. Alex was stunned that her own body had produced this delicious nectar with no intervention of sugar or additives.
She smiled to herself and resumed washing the pump, the sensation of her belly pressing against the counter both uncomfortable and arousing.
Later that afternoon, Alex took another taste. Again, she could hardly believe how her belly could produce something so pleasant. It was practically perfect. She allowed herself little tastes of her milk with increasing frequency, her reservations discarded. It seemed harmless. A lick here, a droplet there…
Soon she was harboring an intensifying craving, just like she had with Violet’s milk. After her latest pumping session, Alex found herself staring at the output, hesitating to dispose of it down the sink drain as she usually did. It seemed a waste.
Alex uncovered the bottle. She took just a sip, and could not help groaning at the heavenly taste. Her whole being felt as though it was glowing from the inside out. The sense of comfort was incredible. She envisioned herself buried in Violet’s plump, heated skin.
Her thoughts dissolving into desperation, Alex chugged the rest of the milk.
-
Alex released a belch.
It was a few days later, and she felt heavier and more lethargic than ever before. She felt like a damn hippo.
She had gotten herself a new pregnancy girdle on Milton’s dime. It was huge, custom-made, and thankfully, it actually fit. Alex didn’t have the energy to be ashamed or embarrassed. She appreciated the way it supported her back and kept her huge belly-breast from bouncing around too uncomfortably. But after only an hour or two, the compression always became unbearable. So she wore it in random intervals throughout the day but had no need for it when she was just lying around, an act that seemed to consume most of her time lately.
Alex was sprawled on the couch, breathing heavily. Her hands could never seem to help their compulsion to roam her body, from the four round tits heaving on her chest, each the size of a honeydew, to her huge globe of an abdomen, the orb wider than the rest of her. She must have looked as though she was overdue with triplets. Her belly was almost always bloated into a heavy sphere, no amount of pumping seeming to alleviate the fullness within. At least it was tolerable. It was better than the mornings after Alex had unintentionally missed an overnight pumping session, when she woke up with her abdomen tight and straining, flushed and sweaty, feeling ready to burst.
She shifted slightly, feeling rather squashed under her swollen mound. At that moment, it was plump but not unbearable. The fullness actually felt rather good these days. Warm…and stimulating. She shifted again, puffing out a breath.
She absently slid her hands down to cup the undersides of the lower pair of breasts on her chest. Her fingers glided into the compressed space between where her lower pair of chest-breasts perched against the top of her belly-breast. The skin there felt itchy and tender. She reminded herself to use some powder to alleviate some of the wet friction that the area was prone to.
Alex had taken off the girdle before she sat down, now wearing just a pair of shorts that sat low on her hips, and, funnily enough, some of Becca’s maternity-wear.
She had put it on to be ironic, amusing herself and Milton that morning. The nightie hadn’t been uncomfortable, and Alex hadn’t bothered taking it off. At least it wasn’t absurdly tight like most of her other clothes. Instead, it hung loosely, pulling a little more than halfway over her belly-breast. Sometimes Alex would glide her fingers across the dark silk, or tug down at it absently.
Other times she would scratch where her flesh was exposed beneath the hem.
Her hand rubbed the rounded swell, even as her face scrunched from the various conflicting sensations, her skin tingling as her insides pulsed with increasing tension. Alex breathed heavily as her palms pushed the nightie further up, to set it at the top of the swell. Her belly-nipple was wet, swollen, and pink, nearly the size of an apple by then. Just looking at it made her throat constrict, and made electricity shoot through the painfully sensitive protrusion as it stiffened and swelled from her growing arousal.
Yet Alex was craving a different sort of pleasure. She pushed herself more upright, leaning on the arm of the couch. Her belly-nipple tensed yet more, causing Alex to press her lips in a hum, her face scrunching. Her four chest-nipples ached, Alex groaning as four corresponding damp spots formed on the nightie. God, she usually had better control than that. Her attention shifted back to her big belly-nipple, just as milk started to rise from the dimpled pore in the center, then trickle down the underside of the swell in a thin stream. Her breathing thinned.
Alex wasn’t sure why she was so secretive about her recent…indulgences. She hadn’t even told Milton. Not yet. Instead, she drank her own milk exclusively when Milton was at work. It felt shameful to Alex, which didn’t make much sense. Until it did.
She fumbled, shaking as she awkwardly tried to maneuver herself closer to the huge, swollen nipple protruding from the center of her own inflated midsection.
Suddenly the craving was overpowering. She wanted it desperately. Alex knew that retrieving the pump would be a whole process, starting with getting up, then waddling into the kitchen, to finally clean out the device as well as the accompanying containers. It would all take too long. Alex couldn’t bear the thought of the delay. Yet she knew what she was attempting was ridiculous, and there was no way she would actually be able to — all the same, she continued to fumble as her heart raced and she leaned forward, groaning from the strain, red and uncomfortable, as her various wobbling swells squished into each other. Still, Alex went for it.
She grunted as she felt a sharp ache, but she leaned into it, somehow planting her tremoring mouth against the hot, tender, belly-nipple. She enclosed the fat protrusion with her lips. Instantly, creamy fluid gushed into her mouth. Alex moaned, nearly choking on the hot, delicious milk. So fresh and thick, the experience was near euphoric. Milk filled her mouth straight from the source, then poured into belly. Alex hummed as she drank. She couldn’t believe what she’d been missing.
-
The milk was addictive.
Alex was vaguely aware of this. Just like Violet’s had been. This was an…important consideration.
There were a lot of uncomfortable things that needed addressing.
It was a few days later, and Alex was seated in a chair in the kitchen, her huge belly-breast perched on her lap as she absently cupped the side of it.
On her chest, she was wearing two soft, wireless bras, the bottom one strapless. The girdle wrapped around her abdomen was more lightweight than the others she had purchased. Just a band of stretched cotton fabric. It didn’t offer much in terms of support, but it at least covered her huge belly-nipple. Lately just the sensation of cool air on the sensitive nub sent shocks of sensation through Alex, and sent her milk squirting.
“You’re not serious?” Milton stood across from her, his arms crossed, his mug of coffee on the table left forgotten.
Her face pink, Alex managed to nod.
“Christ,” Milton muttered, and he proceeded to stare at Alex for a long while. “Do you even have room for that?” He motioned at Alex’s body.
“It’s not like I have any control of it,” Alex retorted irritably, wincing as her abdomen gurgled and shivered. “It’s not a choice, it’s just happening.”
Milton still looked stunned. “Okay, just — just repeat what you told me. Just so we’re clear.”
Idiot, Alex thought, as she drew a deep breath. But she refused to cede to her rising panic. “I said that I’m starting to grow, um, another s-set. Under these ones.” She cupped the lower pair of breasts protruding on her chest.
“Fuck me,” Milton whispered.
“Yeah,” Alex managed. “And it’s really fucking uncomfortable. I need your help.”
20.
“Fuck, Milton,” Alex whined when they got back to the bedroom. “It’s so fucking uncomfortable. You need to suck them and make them grow.” Alex eased herself back on the bed, whimpering from the soreness of her newest breasts coming in against all the weight pressing down on the tender skin.
There was so much hot sweaty flesh squishing together on her body. Alex spread herself out across the bed so she could clutch her four chest-breasts the best she could, revealing the newest mounds budding beneath. They were hardly anything. Anthills, topped off by small, delicate nipples.
Milton inhaled deeply as he closed in. Alex arched to give him access. Milton pressed his knee against the mattress as he looked down, appraising her.
“Please,” Alex rasped, feeling truly pathetic. But she was desperate. She was so absurdly uncomfortable, this needed to be handled.
Milton leaned down, so close that his warm breath pulsed on Alex’s flesh. Alex twisted her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, until his lips were flush against her skin. He licked and kissed the tender little heaps. He taunted the tiny nipples as Alex struggled to breathe and her body trembled. Alex’s five other breasts seemed to tighten. The stimulation left her wired, breathless, and trembling, but this needed to be done. She needed to grow.
-
Over the next few days, things proceeded slowly.
When Milton wasn’t around to suck and stimulate Alex’s newest pair of breasts, she tried to stimulate them manually. Because stimulation led to growth, and Alex needed them to grow. The new breasts were only C-cups at that point, and even with two pairs of bras supporting the four breasts above them, the newest ones still ended up smothered and squished regardless of Alex’s position. The discomfort was unbearable, and Alex found herself spending a lot of her time sprawled across her bed, arching her back, clutching her chest, and trying to remove what weight she could from her lowest pair of chest-breasts, the tender little mounds growing at a brutally slow pace.
But there was progress, at least. Her hands would rub and squeeze, tweaking the nipples, as she groaned and her abdomen shuddered. There was seldom a moment that she wasn’t red and sweaty, truly exhausted between the constant milk production, stimulation, and her efforts to attend to her body, with seven breasts that needed attention at every given moment of the day. One might say that it was entirely unreasonable for Milton to suggest they go to the club that weekend, but Alex knew it was one of Milton’s favorite things, and that his bringing Alex there in such a state would be the utmost thrill for the man, in all his depravity.
And what thrilled Milton thrilled Alex as well. So even in her sorry, swollen state, limbs jittery, body sweaty, and frame absurdly heavy, she got dressed, slow and meticulously.
At least it would be a change of scenery.
-
Everyone stared.
Of course, Alex was used to it. She sort of liked it. Milton certainly did. He watched Alex as she waddled arduously, clutching what she could of her massive belly-breast as it strained the stretchy blouse she had on. She would stop and hold onto the wall, breathing heavily, her upper four breasts wobbling as they heaved on her chest. The newest pair was squished beneath them, but Alex tried to endure the discomfort, if only for the evening.
When Alex was seated, her belly-breast overfilled her lap, pressing against the edge of the table. She swore, it must have resembled a beach ball by then. Alex was hardly cognizant of what was going on around her. She couldn’t keep up with any conversations she was offered, feeling nearly delirious; overwhelmed by sensations. She would just breathe and stare off, her head spinning, mumbling indecipherably only when she had to, hoping that it qualified as a response to any inquiry.
She tried to stay mostly seated, even as her thighs grew compressed and numb beneath her milk-filled belly. She only really got up to go to the bathroom and attend to the intensifying, gurgling tightness inside of her. Her body felt like an oven she couldn’t turn off. But she was getting used to it. She could handle it.
Alex grunted as she struggled to get up for her latest bathroom break, gripping the table for dear life, whimpering as her belly-nipple rubbed into the edge. She felt a spasm inside her that left her groaning, her belly tightening a notch, as the nipple distended even more, looking huge and prominent, sticking out blatantly as multiple eyes stared at the absurd protrusion in morbid fascination.
She struggled to catch her breath, still gripping the table for support. God, she was so full. Always so hot and tight, and pumping seemed practically useless these days. Nevertheless, she had to, because she was afraid of the consequences of not doing it. Alex gave a grimace of a smile to the indistinct faces around the table, and she started wobbling away, her back arched as she clutched her flanks, trying to balance the weight overtaking her torso. Once she locked herself in the bathroom, it was a mild struggle just to reach the sink. Her belly pressed against it, creating a barrier. But Alex made do, whining as she leaned in, dousing her hands in cool water which she subsequently pressed to her flushed face. Her belly trembled. She moaned, rubbing circles on it with the heels of her hands. “Nnghhh…” One of her hands swiftly moved to clutch her back, where a stitch of discomfort had bloomed. She wondered how much she weighed now, with all this milk filling her body. She was almost scared to find out.
For a moment she stood there just breathing as her legs grew weary in the tight mini skirt she had on. Her hands fumbled to unbutton her shirt, a relieved sigh coming up her throat as cool air washed over her. Through the mirror, she gazed at her massive belly-breast, contained in a pregnancy girdle that was straining to accommodate it. She had two pairs of bras supporting her upper four breasts, the cups already beginning to pinch into the volleyball-sized globes. The growing C-cups beneath them were still entirely hidden by the overhang squishing them down.
While the new breasts were steadily coming in, they weren’t growing fast enough for Alex’s liking. They were still smaller than all the others, getting squished and compressed by the mounds around it. She just wanted to get bigger so that they could push out; get some air. It was a strange thought – wanting the anomaly to be larger and more visible. She shouldn’t have wanted them there at all. But as it was, they were present, and they are inevitably going to grow.
There was a knock on the door. Alex tore her gaze away from her reflection in the mirror.
“It’s me,” a low voice called.
Her hands clutching her belly, Alex waddled over to the door, unlocking it then pulling it open. Milton smirked and slipped inside, the bathroom suddenly feeling quite small with the two of them squeezed in there with all of Alex’s girth.
“I’m quitting the pills,” she managed, her hand cupping her side as it gurgled.
Milton raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Alex released a huff. “Fucking look at me Milton. I’m done!” She felt a surge of frustration and could not help directing it toward her partner. Her enabler.
“Okay, okay,” Milton said diplomatically. “It’s no big deal. Chill out.”
Alex glared warily as Milton went silent, as though in thought. Then his eyes trailed slowly along Alex’s body.
“One more for the road?” he said.
Alex’s belly shuddered, as though in response. She whimpered, clutching it. “Fuck off,” she managed.
“C’mon, just to memorialize it,” Milton coaxed. “This is all so abrupt. If I knew the last pill was the last time, I would have really savored the moment.”
Milton held Alex captivated with his eyes. She didn’t know how he did it, but she couldn’t look away. She felt wonderfully helpless.
“I’ve got them right here.” Milton reached into his jacket and pulled out the familiar bottle of capsules. He twisted off the cap. The starchy whiff of the supplement left Alex’s belly tensing and jerking as she grunted out.
“What do you say?” Milton said with a slow grin.
He was so sexy, so commanding and in control. The combined adrenaline and arousal was dizzying. Alex was helpless as her abdomen lurched with the milk throbbing inside of it.
“One last time,” she said hoarsely. With a shaking hand, she received the pill bottle from Milton.
Alex poured out several. A handful. Even to Milton’s surprise, Alex choked them all down. “Go hard or go home, right?” she panted as she dropped her arm, the now emptied pill-bottle clattering to the floor.
Milton couldn’t stop smiling.
Alex rolled her eyes. “M-maybe it’ll help the new ones develop some more,” she stammered, feeling jittery. And warm. She started to waddle for the door.
“Hey,” Milton said as he caught Alex’s arm to stop her.
Alex was breathing deeply. She threw an uneasy look up at the man.
“Wait a little,” Milton urged, wrapping one of his arms around her so that his hand was cupping her lower back, and Alex’s swollen belly-breast was squashed snugly between them in that little space. Alex felt like a cow, but Milton was loving it, all of Alex’s plump, fatty flesh pressed against him.
Alex’s eyes went wide. She hurriedly fumbled with her shirt, grunting as her belly-nipple started to spray forcefully. Milton didn’t even seem to mind the mess. Alex moaned as she slumped forward, leaning on Milton for support as the spray eased to a continuous flow of milk running down her front. Simultaneously, the nipples on her upper four breasts all started to squirt.
“You good?” Milton said.
“Ughhhh…”
Milton chuckled.
“S-suck me,” Alex entreated.
“Why would I do that?” Milton said, his smirk growing wider.
The bastard.
Milton just laughed, still holding her close.
Alex muttered several obscenities under her breath. “I need a drink,” she concluded, wrenching herself away. She groaned as her abdomen pulsed with heat and tension.
“You sure that’s a good idea?” he taunted.
Probably not. Nevertheless, Alex made her way out the door, breathing heavily, feeling dizzy and unstable as she did her best to arch her back and support her huge belly-breast as well as she could. God, it was so tight. Visibly pulsating; getting tighter and more pressurized. She could hardly breathe. She fumbled her way through the crowded dance floor in the darkness.
People looked amused at the sight of her, as though she were some gimmick, some morbid mascot. Bodies pressed all around her.
Alex felt a hand on her back. Milton had followed her, standing behind her, offering support in a way, as his hands slid further, holding Alex. She allowed herself to lean back against his chest.
Now Milton’s hands were reaching around her, pressing and squeezing, fingers taunting and teasing the belly-nipple. It tensed horribly.
“Please,” Alex choked as Milton rubbed the swollen protrusion, her body growing redder by the moment as she tried to hold the mounting pressure. She grunted as she tore away from Milton, clutching the orb. “Errgghh…” Fuck, she needed to pump; she needed it now! She had to get back to the bathroom!
Her skin was burning hot. She needed space. Her belly-breast tremored. She groaned, trying her best not to make a mess on the people around her. A forceful shudder ran through her body, her core feeling like it was being rapidly overfilled.
“Easy,” Milton said in her ear. The man was behind her again, rubbing and coaxing. Fully sabotaging, but somehow she still wanted it; somehow it felt amazing.
Alex’s swell jerked harshly. She arched and howled, her voice drowned out by the blaring music filling the room.
The mass surged forward, pushing out in all directions, blowing up, shoving and expanding, Alex barely able to stand, leaning heavier on Milton, fidgeting and fumbling, grunting and gripping as her body exploded outward into something massive, something obscenely huge, something that should not have been attached to a fit young woman.
People were shoved, clashing and crumbling together in their unbalanced, inebriated states. Alex could hardly get her footing as she gazed down at herself, her body sweat-drenched. Tear-trails marked her face as she struggled to breathe. “Jesus—fuck!” she choked out, half wondering if she was dreaming. Her vision blurred around the edges.
“You look amazing,” Milton’s gruff voice said in her ear, holding her, rubbing the orb.
Then he helped lug Alex off the dance floor and away from the staring faces surrounding them.
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