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Bad Roommate - Female Version, Parts 9-12
🕑 Added 2025-02-16 03:11:58 +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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9.
Marta seemed to think she had lost her mind. She gave an indecipherable whisper as she stared at Violet with wide, terrified eyes, before turning on her heel and fleeing. Later, when Pilar came by the room, and Violet showed the older woman what she was, Pilar too ran off. But Pilar returned within the hour rambling prayers and splashing Violet with what Violet presumed was holy water.
It wasn’t for another day that Marta came back. To check on Violet. To try to understand. Which was a steep order, because Violet hardly understood it, herself.
And then maybe, Marta realized, that even if Violet was some malicious, supernatural being, Violet had already been nursing the baby for a few days now. Hector was no longer fussy, and had even managed to put on a little weight. So if Hector was doomed, Marta might as well be too. It was too late for Marta to claim Violet’s milk was poisonous. And it was too late for Marta to refuse temptation, at least in regards to her child. So if baby Hector risked damnation, Marta may as well risk it too.
Marta tasted Violet’s milk. Just a droplet, that Marta plucked up with the tip of her pointer finger. For a moment, Marta’s eyes went huge, but then drifted closed as she savored it, her finger in her mouth, her shoulders sagging. Finally, Marta gave Violet a look of wonder.
Violet nodded weakly, flustered and sweaty. “It’s just m-milk,” she managed. “I just want to help. Th-there’s so much of it. It—it’s almost h-hurting me.” Violet was still perched on the bed, her hands lightly cupping her hugely swollen mass. “We can help each other,” she whispered hoarsely. “You – you need food. And I—I….” Violet desperately needed relief. But getting the woman to taste her milk, and to drink directly from her nipple, were two entirely different things. For the umpteenth time, Violet regretted leaving Alex.
For a while, Marta just stared at Violet, looking unnerved. Pilar arrived, and lingered behind her daughter, whispering words Violet could not understand. They gazed down on Violet like the freak was.
Marta came closer. She reached down, resting a hand across Violet’s sweaty cheek. Marta closed her eyes and seemed to steel herself for a moment, then suddenly leaned down, smashing her lips to Violet’s belly-nipple with a force that made Violet yelp out.
As she sucked, Violet’s muscles practically seized, causing her to slump back and release a wheezy sigh.
Tears poured down Violet’s cheeks. She was just so heavy and tight. Violet hadn’t thought there would be a way out of this predicament. Instead, Marta was offering her mercy where Violet didn’t deserve it. Marta took long draws and generous gulps, drinking with vigor, decreasing the pressure inside of Violet, if just marginally. Violet felt better than she had in ages, just laying there, allowing her head to fall back as she stared at the ceiling. It must have been fifteen minutes before Marta finally pulled back, wiping her lips on her sleeve.
“Delicious,” Marta whispered, sort of dazed.
Violet sniffed. “Thanks,” she managed, assuming that counted as a compliment.
“This is the first time I don’t feel hungry in a very long time.”
Violet nodded. “I think — maybe I’m like this, because I’m supposed to help people.”
“I think so too,” Marta said.
-
Marta began to bring over some of the babies in the neighborhood. She would tell the parents that she had a visitor at her house who could nurse them. It wasn’t a lie. Violet soon found herself with an infant or two on her chest at any given moment of the day. Many were thin and malnourished like Hector had been. Marta continued to nurse from Violet’s belly, now several times a day, seeming to even prefer Violet’s milk over rice. Violet knew her milk was thick, and probably nourishing. She knew that human-produced milk was one of the most nutritious things someone could consume.
And eventually, to Violet’s utter surprise, Pilar came around. Pilar kneeled down and drank from Violet’s nipple while Violet was perched on the couch one evening. It lasted only five minutes, perhaps four minutes longer than the woman had intended, but when Pilar pulled back, she appeared a bit stunned. Perhaps she had not anticipated how palatable it would be. Violet didn’t blame her. The whole situation was just bizarre, and it hardly seemed sanitary to suck fluid from someone’s body.
But things didn’t end with Pilar. One day, to Violet’s shock, Marta brought one of her neighbors over. Not a baby or a child, but a young man. Just like the others, he was very thin. Violet sat frozen as Marta guided the young man to the living room, muttering softly in spanish to him, convincing him to approach. He gave Violet a wary look, and Violet tried not to squirm. It was hard to trust strangers when she was so vulnerable.
It took a good deal of convincing from Marta for Violet to pull up her shirt, revealing the swollen pink nub. The young man whispered a curse, and even tried to retreat, but he was weak, and Marta pushed him forward. Violet remained stiff, her eyes averted and her face flushed.
Eventually, with an abundance of pressure from Marta, the young man leaned down. As with Marta, and Pilar, he submitted to his hunger above logic. He pressed his lips to Violet’s belly-nipple, causing Violet’s eyes to flutter down as the young man sucked. And, Violet mused, maybe it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be.
After that, Marta brought in an endless cycle of new faces. She would convince her neighbors, one by one, to visit Violet, and soon the whole community was in and out of Marta’s house. Once they got used to her, they would treat Violet lovingly, speaking to her, embracing her, or bringing her gifts before taking their turn to suckle. Violet found that she now spent most of her time perched on the couch, arched back as someone fed from her belly-nipple. On the occasions that she got a break, she would pull up a thin sheet to cover the mound. Otherwise, it was usually exposed, bulging out from her clothing. When mothers brought babies to see her, Violet usually gave the infants priority, clutching them to her chest as they drank the thinner milk produced there.
This went on for weeks, and Violet was proud to see that many people were putting on weight, Marta and Pilar included. The two women looked far healthier than they had when Violet had first met them. Their faces had filled out and bodies had softened. One morning, Marta hurried out of her bedroom and came over to Violet on the couch, laughing and crying simultaneously. Marta plopped onto the cushion beside Violet and clasped Violet’s hands.
“Violet, I am—how do you say? I am making milk!”
It took a moment for Violet to process that. “What?”
Marta motioned to her chest, and Violet stared at the mounds there, which looked full and plump. They had blossomed from nothing to full C-cups, and Violet hadn’t even noticed. As Marta wasn’t wearing a bra, Violet could see how swollen Marta’s nipples were through the thin dress she had on.
“This morning I was able to feed Hector!” Marta told Violet.
“That’s amazing,” Violet said. And over the course of the day, she began to pay better attention to the women who came to see her. Many of them had put on a decent amount of weight, and now that Violet was searching, she could see that most of them had experienced a good amount of breast growth. Most had C-cups, even D-cups, or larger. And they looked engorged. Violet could tell from experience how full and bloated their breasts were—too round to not be producing milk. Likely, many of these women would be able to nurse their own babies soon, if they weren’t already. It was truly fate that Violet had ended up in this small, struggling city. She couldn’t have been happier.
Soon Violet wasn’t nearly as busy anymore. People stopped bringing their babies as much. Even many of the adults stopped visiting her as frequently. In the absence of hunger, people had developed hope, drive, and strength to work in some cases.
It was a trickle effect. Violet had single-handedly stimulated the local economy.
Her milk was getting thicker. People were getting full faster when they drank from her. It also seemed to take people more effort to extract milk, sucking hard, their faces flushing. Even the milk Violet produced from the breasts on her chest was getting thicker, and children got fussy or irritable when they tried to nurse from her. All the parents stopped bringing their children to Violet altogether. Most of them didn’t need her anymore.
Violet was getting bigger. Even with all that she was able to release lately, her belly was only swelling. She couldn’t remember the last time she had gotten off the couch, but her belly was just massive. She estimated it was the size of a beach ball. It overflowed her lap and she was constantly clutching it, trying to keep it from spilling one way or another. Sometimes she felt like she could just teeter forward. Her belly-nipple pointed in different directions based on her position, and was a huge bulging protrusion, close to the size of a tennis ball. It pulsated visibly, and left her breathless.
Violet knew that she couldn’t stay here forever. The feedings grew fewer and further between. The people didn’t need her anymore. She knew it was time to go home.
Despite Marta’s initial protests, the older woman helped Violet get on her way. Marta cried, and hugged what she could reach of Violet, and thanked her for all that she had done.
“You are part of this community. And you are part of my family,” Marta assured. Then she pulled back a few strands of Violet’s hair, kissed her cheek, and saw her off.
-
Violet was huge, even for someone who was posing as pregnant. She had gotten several community members to drain her thoroughly before her departure, but she was still incredibly heavy, and was wobbling forward at a snail's pace. It was so weird to be out of the small Latin community where she had spent her summer. It had become a secondary home to her, and she had felt truly accepted and appreciated for the first time since this whole thing had started.
It was a long and slow trip back to her college town, and her milk was coming in faster than ever. It only took a few hours before she felt uncomfortably engorged again. In another few, her face was flushed and strained, sweat trickling down her throat as she breathed thinly, and struggled to bear her increasing weight.
She’d had to pay for two seats on the bus, because her belly was wider than the rest of her body, and would likely impose on anyone who attempted to sit beside her. People stared at her whenever they passed in the aisle. They would give her a passing glance, then freeze up, and practically double back to ogle at her inflated midsection. Her swell was so large, it was pressing hard to the seat in front of her, practically squishing her there as she gasped for breath, whimpering and squirming. The mounds on her chest had swollen up to H-cups over the summer.
She was just huge all over.
It was a relief to stagger back to campus, so heavy and delirious from fatigue by then, she could hardly notice the way people stopped in their tracks to gawk.
She was gripping her belly as tightly as she could, dragging herself forward one foot after the next. She felt like collapsing. She felt like bursting. She was breathing in heavy puffs, jaw clenched, eyes tearing up.
When she burst through her apartment door, the first thing she saw was Alex, and Violet was so relieved she could cry.
But her relief was quickly undercut by the sight of Alex’s body.
Alex had changed. She had…breasts. Two pairs of them. Violet’s jaw fell slack.
-
“Violet,” Alex blurted in shock. She hadn’t thought she’d ever see Violet again.
Alex was standing in the kitchenette holding a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while wearing a tank top and some shorts. She hadn’t been expecting any visitors, so she hadn’t been particularly discrete about her new developments when she had gotten dressed that morning. Two pairs of B-cup breasts were bulging evidently under the tight tank top. As Violet stared at them, Alex blushed, but then Alex found herself distracted by the sight of Violet’s own transformation. Violet’s belly was massive! She looked like she could barely stand! “What…the hell,” Alex managed, feeling herself salivate a bit. Her sandwich dropped to the floor. She had just gotten over her addiction to Violet’s milk. And now it was back in her face, more bizarre and blatant than ever before.
Alex tore her eyes away. No. She couldn’t do this anymore.
Violet managed to hobble inside, gripping hard on the doorframe, panting like a dog. “You — your chest,” she gasped out, clutching at her heaving belly with her free hand. “You got more b-boobs.”
Alex gulped, her face hot. “Yeah, they kinda just…popped out of nowhere after you left. Weird, r-right?”
“Yeah…” Violet seemed to snap out of her reverie, her face contorting in discomfort. “Christ, Alex, you gotta help me. I’m about to blow…nrrgghhhh!” Violet arched, pressing her huge mass harder into the tent of a shirt that she had on. And it really did look like it was inflating, some of the swell pushing out beneath the hem. The volleyball sized breasts on Violet’s chest wiggled as she struggled to breathe. The girl was a fucking whale, her huge belly spanning out several feet before her, her massive nipple looking as though it was contracting under the shirt. “C-Can’t—stand!” Violet gave a long groan and cursed.
“Shit,” Alex hurried over, and helped Violet to wobble over to the couch, where Violet plopped down then whined out, her mass jerking.
With shaking hands, Alex couldn’t help sliding up Violet’s shirt, just as milk, a small amount of it, began to ooze from her huge belly-nipple. It looked almost like pudding. It was practically too thick to even be considered milk anymore. Alex licked her lips.
“Fuck, I need you. Please,” Violet begged. She arched again and moaned, shoving her belly out so hard it looked like she was trying to separate it from her body.
Alex remembered the days of jonesing after Violet had left. She remembered how jittery and lost she had felt; the shaking, squirming and fidgeting. Then there had been the constant irritation of her ribs just under her chest. The moles she had developed there — or what she had thought to be moles, when they had first started to develop. But these things were different, they were responsive, hardening, and reacting. They were developing and pushing out, until she realized she had developed a second pair of fucking nipples. And things had only gone batshit from there.
Thankfully they hadn’t grown beyond B-cups. Alex was no longer ingesting Violet’s milk, and things had gotten under control with her hormones. She was a freak, but only when she didn’t disguise it. With a thick enough sweater, people hardly noticed.
But now Violet was back, and the temptation to drink was just painfully intense. Alex was supposed to have gotten past this.
“HELP ME!” Violet screamed. “GOD, I’M GONNA BLOW!” Her belly gave a forceful heave, the mass flushed red, veins pushing to the surface.
And Alex knew what she had to do.
10.
Alex pressed her lips against Violet’s giant, throbbing nub, the whole of it no longer able to fit into Alex’s mouth. It had gotten too large. It was all just bizarre, how real this was. Alex found herself accepting it all over again. The uniqueness, but also the singularity of it. Something like this had never occurred before, and would probably never happen again. So despite the fact that Alex knew this was bad for her, she couldn’t help savoring it, as she took a long, hard, suck.
Violet groaned out, her eyelids shuttering and her shoulders sagging. “So…tight…” she moaned.
It was heavy. Probably the heaviest thing Alex had ever consumed. The substance was thick and dense, sweet but soft. It had the consistency of a very thick pudding and was almost buttery somehow. Overall, the milk was incredibly delicious. But after just a few gulps, Alex’s stomach was full, and her cheeks started to ache from having to suck so hard. The substance was difficult to extract by then. Alex didn’t know why things had taken this course, but despite the change in consistency, Violet’s milk had only gotten more delicious. So even despite it being too heavy and too hard to draw out, Alex couldn’t help trying. She sucked and sucked until her face was red. Then she sucked some more, filling herself till her belly started to ache from tightness. Violet squirmed and moaned all the while, looking squashed beneath the mass of her belly-boob. Alex didn’t know if it was getting any less tight. She grasped what she could reach of it, the span of both her arms unable to enclose it. But she clutched at it, allowing her fingers to sink into the plump, heated flesh.
“Unnnghhh…fuhhhh…” Violet groaned.
Alex wasn’t sure how, but she drank for hours. She had missed it too much. She was completely addicted. She sucked it down until she thought she was going to retch. Only then, as she started gagging, did she pull away, holding her gut. “Fuck,” she breathed.
Violet lay there slumped, hardly conscious.
And Alex didn’t know where things would go from there.
-
That evening, Alex found herself at her favorite dive bar only a few blocks away from campus. She didn’t have answers but she had alcohol, and sometimes that was all that mattered.
She was five tequila shots in when she felt a sudden surge of heat in her chest. She scrunched up her face, her grip tensing on the glass as all four breasts tingled and filled with tension, her nipples stinging as her jacket subtly tightened. She grunted and cupped her breasts through the jacket, astounded to feel them pushing forward, their increasing girth now causing her coat to push out, revealing the shape of them. She gawked down at herself, both amazed and disturbed. She’d estimate that they had gone up a full cup size in the span of seconds. “What the hell,” she whispered, now hunching and folding her arms, wincing at how sensitive and achy her nipples were. She glanced around the bar and it was unsurprisingly dead for a Wednesday night. No one had noticed her weird growth spurt. “’the fuck…” she muttered, shaking her head. What was she doing to herself? She had to stop drinking Violet’s milk. It was fucking with her body.
Someone sat down beside her. It was a well-dressed man, a little older than Alex was. The guy threw a glance and a smile Alex’s way. “Can I buy you a drink? You look like you could use one.”
Alex was flustered, and even a little paranoid, but as she examined the stranger, it seemed clear that the guy was just being friendly. Alex slowly uncoiled, even lowering her arms. The stranger’s gaze didn’t stray towards Alex’s chest. Maybe the growth wasn’t so obvious. Then again, who would even suspect such a thing? “Yeah, sure,” said Alex. She, indeed, could use another drink.
“Whiskey?”
“Why not?” Alex wasn’t picky.
The stranger ordered two whiskeys and slid one over to Alex.
There was an old proverb about not mixing drinks but Alex couldn’t have given two fucks at the moment. The whiskey was smooth and sweet, and seemed to warm her insides.
“You know, a few of us are heading next door. The place is a little classier, and certainly more fun. You should come along.”
“Yeah,” said Alex. It wasn’t as though she had any better ideas.
Alex paid her tab and followed the smooth stranger out of the dingy little bar, onto the street, down an alley, then through the door of what looked to be an old warehouse. But as she stepped inside, Alex realized that this couldn’t have been further from the truth. It was nightclub, the place packed, people drinking and dancing, the servers and bartenders all dressed in black, skimpy attire, that didn’t even seem appropriate as swimwear. The place was huge, lights flashing, greens and golds. The music was deafening. It wasn’t exactly Alex’s scene, but she couldn’t help being mesmerized by it all.
Before Alex could wander off and disappear into the crowd, a hand grabbed her shoulder. It was the same stranger.
“This way!” the man called over the music, pulling Alex towards the back. Through a door, down a corridor, then into a room that was much smaller than the main floor, but still spacious, and much calmer. The music was soft, the place simultaneously sumptuous and cozy. There was a bar and some seating around a large table. It gave the place a communal feel.
“Conrad, I was wondering if you would show up tonight,” someone called. It was an older man, seated with some others, including one of the venue’s servers, judging by the black thong and bandeau the girl had on. He had his arm casually draped about her shoulders as she shuffled a deck of cards.
“So was I. Slow night at the office,” said the guy with Alex: Conrad, apparently.
“You playing?”
“I suppose I’ll just spectate tonight, Milton. Oh, I brought a friend. Seemed like she could use some excitement.”
It wasn’t all a card game. Only three people seemed to be playing. It seemed more like your standard VIP section of any club or event, if a little fancier. Everyone was well-dressed and well spoken. When Alex noticed that the drinks seemed to be on the house, she got herself a seat.
It was warm back here. The jacket was stifling. Alex lowered her zipper, if just a little bit. Just to breathe. No one paid her any mind anyway.
“Can they send in more girls? This is getting depressing,” said a stocky man in a fine Italian suit. He was holding a blunt in the same hand that clutched his drink.
“Some young men as well,” said another man with a twisted smile. His hair was slicked back into a bouffant, and retroactive as it was, he pulled it off well.
“Sorry Gregory, it’s a busy night,” said the scantily clad server as she finished dealing cards. “Chad says he’s running late as well.”
“Isn’t that one your favorite?” Milton asked.
“Nonsense,” said Gregory, the man with the bouffant. “You know I don’t play favorites. Though Chad does have a great ass.”
“So you’ve mentioned,” Milton said.
The door opened again and some girls strolled in, one of them completely topless. Alex couldn’t help the inane grin that crossed her face. So these were the entertainers.
Alex yelped as a girl plopped right down into her lap. She was dressed in some black lace lingerie that was especially strappy, complete with garters. “Oopsies,” she said, poking Alex in the chest. “Scuse me.”
“About time,” growled Milton, as the server under his arm slipped off. “Come over here,” he motioned to one of the girls. “Tell me what you think of this hand.”
“He’s not talking about the cards,” a woman at the table piped in. She was dressed in a blouse and pencil skirt, long hair tied back in a ponytail.
Alex sat back and watched. Alex swung her arm around the girl in her lap, as there seemed like no other place to put it that wasn’t awkward. “Rum and coke,” Alex mentioned as the server looked her way.
Her drink was served promptly, and subsequently replaced every time it got more than halfway empty. She could hear banter around her, in her periphery, but the world was getting hazy. She just kept drinking. At one point, the stocky man offered her a pull of his blunt. Alex accepted. She took more than a pull.
Her zipper went down another notch. Maybe it was the way the girl in her lap giggled and bobbed against her as she conversed and gesticulated, while still using Alex as a chair. Maybe Alex had pulled it down herself. It was awfully hot back here. And it wasn’t as though anyone noticed. Even when the girl pressed her back against Alex’s chest, causing Alex to groan, the girl in Alex’s lap didn’t notice the absurdity of Alex’s form. Everyone was pleasantly buzzed, happily chatting, or playing cards. A pair of guys to the side were talking business. Investments and such. Alex just nodded and smiled and drank.
Another notch, or two, or three. She wasn’t sure when this happened, or why it occurred, or if she was even okay with it. She just glanced down and noticed her own cleavage for the first time. Then she saw that her jacket was completely open, partially hanging off one of her shoulders, and everything was exposed.
Now other people noticed. The stocky guy was giving her the queerest of looks, and Conrad was staring, his jaw hanging. The girl in Alex’s lap gave a titter and poked at her tits, causing Alex to wince. Alex shoved her off as the girl’s face went solemn.
“What the hell are those?” the club girl howled.
“It’s…um…it’s a medical condition,” said Alex as she fumbled with her jacket, then failed at several attempts to connect one side of the zipper to the other.
“It looks like four boobs!”
“They…er…well, they are.” What the hell was she saying? A strange, hysterical giggle escaped Alex’s lips. “I’m a freak of nature.”
“Stop messing with us, kid.”
Then Alex’s fingers were working on their own. She started to unbutton her shirt.
Then she blacked out.
-
Alex awoke with a groan. Her head was pounding. A glance at her clock told her that it was three in the afternoon and she had missed her morning classes.
She couldn’t remember much about the latter half of her evening, or how she had gotten home, but she could remember bits and pieces; fleeting images of the people in the VIP room pointing or gawking, other times laughing. She could remember someone…touching her, as she groaned and arched and allowed it. She could remember the sensation of a hot tongue... Just the memory left her face burning and flesh tingling. Alex looked down at herself, unsurprised to see her shirt buttoned crookedly. Her jacket, meanwhile, was nowhere in sight. She didn’t think she had ever been so drunk in her entire life. Her weary hands slowly slid up, cupping her lower pair of breasts. She grimaced at how sensitive they were, and how truly sore her nipples felt. But also at the bloated sensation that now occupied them. She wasn’t sure, but they looked fuller; rounder than the last time she had checked. She estimated that they were botha solid C cup. This was going to be harder to disguise, but she would have to manage.
Alex slowly climbed out of bed, feeling dizzy. She was going to need some aspirin or something. As she shifted, she noticed that there was something in the pockets of her jeans. She reached inside and pulled out some paper — no, money. She stared down at the crumpled bills in her hands. There had to be a couple thousand dollars.
Alex was astounded. Who had given her money? What was it for? Shit, she wished she could remember. She had been so wasted, she didn’t even know how she’d found her way home.
But the money was welcome. Ever since Violet had disappeared over the summer, the payments from Alex’s secret employer had run dry. Alex didn’t know if things would change now that Violet was back, but Alex was behind in rent and all her bills. She needed cash desperately. But she couldn’t keep this...could she? She just wished she could figure out what was going on. Maybe if she went back; maybe tonight.
And so it was decided. Alex would swing by the club and see if anyone was missing a couple thousand bucks. If no one mentioned it, Alex would just assume that the money was hers to keep. It would be that simple. Alex drew in a deep breath and sat back down on the bed.
“Alex!” Violet cried from the next room. “Alex! I need you! Nrrgggghh!”
Alex rubbed her bleary eyes. Her stomach ached in hunger, her mouth watering at the thought of indulging. She resolved not to have anything to drink when she went back to that club that night, but Violet’s milk was a different story.
I owe her, Alex rationalized as she got up from bed for the second time. She gingerly walked out of her bedroom, buttoning up the rest of her shirt in the process.
11.
Alex's belly was bloated, probably from all of her recent overindulgences. She couldn’t say that she was feeling remotely confident that evening, but she pulled on a clean white blouse and paired it with a skirt. She scrutinized herself in the bathroom mirror, feeling self-conscious of every crease and curve. She smoothed out her shirt repetitively. But the attire was loose enough that her changes weren’t blatant. She noticed that with the recent growth, there was a lot more movement. Jiggling and bobbing. There was also the significant discomfort of her nipples rubbing into her clothing. The nubs were just really sensitive lately. They stood pink and erect, bulging out through the thin cotton. Alex grabbed a cardigan and pulled that on as well.
Alex cupped the underside of her lower right breast. Absently, she thought that she could use a little support. Maybe a strapless bra would work. Or a bandeau, even.
God, she was such a mess. She had four fucking breasts, and was now thinking about getting a bra for the lower pair. “Fuck my life,” Alex thought as she walked out of the apartment.
-
When she arrived at the club, she was admittedly apprehensive. She wasn’t sure how to face these people after they had found out…what she was, and all. It was still a little early so the crowd was thin. Alex parked herself at the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey despite her better judgment. She knew drinking was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place, but she desperately needed something to take the edge off. It’s gonna be fine, she silently assured herself. She would go to the back room, say her hellos, and see if anyone was missing the money. It wouldn’t take more than an hour.
By the time Alex came out of her reverie and looked around, the club was alive, the dance floor packed. A glance at her watch told her that it was after midnight. Now or never. Finishing off the beer she had been nursing, she climbed off her stool and smoothed down her cardigan.
The place was packed now, bodies writhing. Alex shoved her way through the dance floor, crossing it entirely, and she had to practically feel along the wall to find the dark door that was almost secret in its subtlety. She slid it open, walked down the corridor, and emerged into the room she had visited the night before.
When Alex walked in, no one noticed her at first. It was strangely anticlimactic because she had honestly expected an onslaught of stares and accusations. But the small group was just drinking and chattering amongst themselves. There was Milton, and Gregory, as well as a young woman in a minidress Alex had not seen the night before. She didn’t see Conrad there, but the businesswoman was, as well as a stocky, almost heavyset, man, who looked familiar. He might have arrived later the previous evening, after Alex had already gotten wasted. Yes, his name might’ve been Grayson. Then again, Alex could have been entirely off.
Alex walked deeper inside, kind of lingering on the periphery of things. She was too nervous to talk, but knew that her lurking presence would quickly become awkward if it wasn’t already.
Milton threw her a glance. “Ah, four-eyes is here!”
Alex didn’t wear glasses. It took her a moment to make sense of the nickname.
Gregory twisted his neck to look, a wide grin spreading over his face. “Doubles, baby, you’re back!”
Alexs face heated up. “Yeah, um, I was in the area. Just wanted to say hi,” she managed, unconsciously tugging her cardigan around herself.
“Take a seat,” said Milton. “Stay a while.”
“I p-probably can’t stay long,” Alex said, but she reluctantly joined them on the large leather couch that curved around the table. Alex stayed at the edge so that she could make a quick escape if necessary. Of course, as soon as she did, an entertainer squished down beside her, blocking Alex in.
“Becca, this is the girl I was telling you about,” Milton told the skinny young woman in the skimpy dress.
“Yeah right,” said Becca, playfully slapping Milton’s shoulder. She grinned at Alex through her curtains of long hair. “Milton’s an idiot. He was trying to tell me that you had extra boobs or something. Like a whole other set.” She burst into giggles. Clearly she’d had a couple of drinks.
Alex pressed her lips and looked down. It took a moment before Becca noticed Alex’s clear discomfort. Then Becca looked back at Milton. “Stop fucking with me!” she laughed.
“Is Conrad here?” Alex tried to change the subject. “Actually, I should probably get going.” This had been a bad idea. She could just go to the bar and report the money lost or something.
“He’s on his way,” Milton said as he threw one of his arms over the back of the couch, sort of behind Alex. “Give it a couple minutes. He would want to say hi.”
Alex supposed she could wait. Conrad was the only other person she could remember who had been there the night before. And if none of them inquired about the money, Alex would feel much more comfortable keeping it. Finders keepers, and all that.
“Have a drink,” Gregory insisted in his drawling voice.
Alex knew that she shouldn’t, but the anxiety was getting to her. Her heart was racing, and her lungs felt compressed. So she nodded. “I’ll take a beer,” she managed.
But not a moment later, a server arrived with a tray of tequila shots and settled one in front of each person, Alex included. Alex didn’t refuse it. Everyone clinked glasses, then Alex downed hers. Just to take the edge off, some more.
She began to relax, trying to nod and pay attention to the surrounding conversations, but not actively participating. People came and went throughout the night, and they were up to about a dozen people around the table. When the couch filled up, people pulled up chairs. Alex sipped the beer she was served any time it looked like someone might expect her to speak.
She was seated beside Milton. The man looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, was clean-cut, and had this sense of authority about him. He just smirked and nodded, and offered sparing words to Rebecca as she talked enthusiastically about her dog and her roommate, and an ongoing feud with one of her colleagues at the investment firm where she worked.
Milton could appreciate her dialogue, but not relate. He didn’t seem like a 9-to-5 type of guy. He appeared more like someone in upper management, an executive type. He was content to drink and listen to Becca talk excessively in her inebriation. And when he did speak, it was kind. Words that made people comfortable, or encouraged them to stay. He asked how people were feeling. Asked if they needed a drink. It was just his personality, this constructive geniality.
“I have some cubans in my car,” one man said. That guy, Grayson.
“Not tonight,” Milton responded. “You know I’m trying to cut back.”
“Didn’t look like it yesterday,” said Grayson.
“Well it was a special occasion, Gib. We made a new friend. I was just trying to keep up.” Milton threw his arm around Alex's shoulders, he and Grayson—Gibson?—laughing.
“God, was I smoking?” said Alex, unable to help a nervous grin. She appreciated that they were trying to include her even if she didn’t particularly want anyone’s attention.
“You weren’t smoking cubans,” Gibson said, and the three of them laughed. “Something a little stronger.”
Then Milton’s hand wrapped around her did something odd. It’s slipped down to Alex’s waist. Alex instinctively stiffened.
“Can we have another round of shots,” Milton called out.
But when the skimpy server brought them over, Alex refused. She was already quite buzzed.
She didn’t know why she didn’t pull Milton’s hand out from around her shoulders. It wasn’t as though it was aggressive or anything. It could be a friendly gesture, kind of.
The contact continued to progress. Alex’s breath hitched as she felt Milton’s fingers dip under her shirt to touch her skin, his hand now cupping Alex’s waist bare. But he didn’t stop there. It crept up, slowly. All the while, Milton carried on with his conversation with others, and Alex sat frozen.
“I appreciate the tip,” Milton was saying to some guy, Smitty, who was sitting across the table. “But I stopped trading last year.”
“I thought you had people handle that for you,” said Smitty, a thin man who had one of those perpetually-unimpressed faces.
“Not anymore,” said Gregory with a grin. “Tell them how much you lost on that mutual fund.”
Milton’s hand made contact with Alex’s lower left breast, cupping it casually. Alex felt heat pooling in her cheeks. She sat there awkwardly silent, hardly able to breathe. She thought it must have been obvious; Milton groping her under her shirt. But the others either didn’t notice or pretended not to. His fingers rubbed, and she couldn’t help leaning into it.
“I’d honestly prefer to forget about that,” said Milton tersely, his hand momentarily pausing where it had been idly rubbing at Alex’s breast.
Gregory cackled while Gibson just scoffed and shook his head.
“All those fuckers are useless,” Gibson noted before taking another drag from his cigar.
“Well, sometimes traders get overconfident, don’t they?” said Smitty.
“You’reoverconfident,” said Gibson.
Milton’s fingers continued their idle fondling as his palm cradled Alex’s breast. He started to finger the nipple, causing Alex’s mouth to open, a small grunt escaping her throat. Milton squeezed, and Alex’s eyes shuttered closed as she attempted to force air into her lungs. She couldn’t believe how sensitive they were.
Milton gave another squeeze. Alex pressed her lips tight, struggling to contain a groan.
“You okay there, four-eyes?” said Gregory, looking amused.
“I… um…” Alex was mortified. She grabbed the new tequila shot that had been left in front of her and downed it.
“One of those nights, huh?” said Gregory, deriving chuckles from the others. Now everyone’s attention was on Alex.
“Uh…I — I have to go to the bathroom,” Alex said, practically shoving the entertainer beside her off the couch in her efforts to get out. Milton’s hand tore out of her shirt and Alex hurried off in a daze.
When she got to the bathroom, she went straight to the sink and splashed her face with cool water. Then, as she tried to catch her breath, she unbuttoned the top of her shirt, looking down at the four breasts perched there.
The lower left one, the one Milton had been fondling, felt hot and tingly, and even looked a little bloated. The nipple was darker than the other ones, probably from all the irritation. And it just felt extraordinarily warm.
Alex tensed as she heard the bathroom door open behind her. She quickly began to button her shirt back up and could see Milton approaching through the mirror.
“Alex,” Milton said, grabbing her shoulder.
Alex spun around to face him, then grabbed him and kissed him. Kissed him hard and desperate, their hands all over each other. Milton’s fingers were back on Alex’s chest, quickly undoing the remaining buttons until Alex’s shirt fell open. Milton then pushed the top and the cardigan aside, now groping unreservedly, cupping and squeezing, rubbing into the sensitive pink nubs there.
Alex moaned and arched. “Christ,” she breathed.
Milton shoved her into the wall then leaned down, licking and kissing Alex’s breasts to finally take a nipple right into his mouth.
As he sucked, Alex swore and gripped his hair, hardly able to hold it together. She couldn’t believe how fucking good it felt. One breast at a time, Milton licked, nuzzled, teased, and sucked.
“Knew you’d come back, four-eyes,” Milton said against her flesh. “I’m usually not a chubby-chaser. But I love your tits. Love how freaky it is.”
“Unnghhh…” Alex was confused at being called “chubby,” as she had a slim build. But then she remembered how bloated her stomach was getting recently. She wasn’t nearly fat, but she supposed, to a man with high standards, like Milton, maybe she was.
Soon all four breasts felt very warm and strangely heavy. Her nipples were aching delightfully.
As Alex buttoned her shirt back up, she could see how prominently her nipples stood out, really bulging against the fabric. She pulled her cardigan around herself, but the curves of her four breasts were still quite evident somehow. As odd as the hot, tingling sensation was, Alex couldn’t deny that it felt really, really good. She was dizzy from the onslaught of sensation, but also entirely blissful. She couldn’t believe what they'd just done.
Milton pulled out his wallet, counted several bills, then offered Alex the whole wad.
Alex blinked down at it. “What?” she said blankly.
“Just a gift,” said Milton with an easy smile. When Alex didn’t take the money, Milton tucked it into Alex’s cardigan pocket, his eyes idly running over Alex’s body.
Alex stammered, “I — I’m not a hooker—”
“Don’t overreact, honey. You showed up at this club wearing running shoes.” He nodded down towards Alex’s admittedly old shoes. “Figured you could use it.”
“I, er, well I’m a college student,” Alex said stupidly.
“Good,” said Milton. “Get yourself some heels. Flats. Whatever.” He turned, and before he walked off, he called back to Alex, “See you next weekend?” He looked so assured of it.
Then he left.
12.
Violet was constantly overheated. Alex did her best to help her. She would press a cold compress against Violet’s forehead, Violet's belly, Violet's chest — wherever she needed it. Violet spent most of her time these days sprawled, groaning in bed beneath her gargantuan belly as it heaved and throbbed, the huge nipple leaking milk — but was it really milk anymore? It looked more like pudding.
As much as Alex tried to help her friend, she was admittedly preoccupied. She couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened over the weekend. And even then, she still couldn’t figure out how to feel about it all.
She had kept the money. She fucking needed it. Between classes and trying to take care of Violet, Alex just didn’t have time for extra work, and the bills were piling up.
And clothes—clothes weren’t cheap. Alex needed new shirts, ones that were bigger; roomier. And a ton of jackets. Things that could help hide what was going on with her chest. As well as bras — god, just one new bra had cost her forty dollars! She’d had no idea how expensive larger-sized bras could be, especially when she had to buy them by the pair.
Though all the bras now felt strange and constricting, particularly on her new lower breasts, it was also terribly comfortable; a true relief on her torso, taking the tension off her back and the hunch off her shoulders.
It was a bizarre situation. Alex surveyed herself in her bedroom mirror. She was wearing a pair of shorts and two strapless bras, her two pairs of breasts stacked on her chest. The bras were now D-cups. They were a bit loose, but they definitely fit. That meant she had surged up almost two cup sizes just over the past week. It was all the stimulation from — from the club. And of course, the reintroduction of Violet’s milk. Alex knew she was going down a slippery slope. If she didn’t get this under control, things would only escalate. Alex again thought about Violet’s current condition, and gulped.
But Alex wasn’t nearly there. Violet was an extreme case. Alex didn’t even have a weird belly-breast. So it would be all right. They were just boobs, after all. Sure, it was embarrassing, but she was okay. She would stop letting Milton touch them, then everything would be fine.
Despite this rationale, Alex went back to the club that Friday night.
She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She just had no self-control. And it wasn’t just about the money. It was everything. The acceptance. The way everyone treated her — not like a freak, but something special, even sexy and noteworthy. It was the sensation. The warm, tingly, addictive feel of Milton’s hands on her chest, thumbs teasing her nipples. It left Alex’s whole body trembling, spine arching, legs weak.
For a long time, Alex had been addicted to Violet. But now there was this, and it was so much better, and seemed to have triggered an even stronger compulsion. Maybe she had been isolated, devoid of emotional and physical attention for just too long a time. Because now she suddenly couldn’t get enough of it.
That night, Milton met her at the door to the VIP lounge. Had the man been waiting for Alex?
“God, look at you,” Milton said.
Alex’s face reddened. She had thought she had been doing a good job at discretion with the jacket she had on, but maybe not.
“What are you waiting for? Come on in.” Milton put a hand on Alex’s lower back and led her inside. He had a cigarette poking out from the corner of his mouth. It looked like Alex wasn’t the only one giving in to her vices that evening.
Milton led Alex back to the table and made sure that they were seated right beside each other. And this time there was little subtlety. Milton wrapped his arm right around Alex’s waist as though to make a statement. Alex was embarrassed, but tried to remain composed. She even partook in a couple of light conversations, but was continually conscious of the weight of Milton’s hand against her, rubbing teasingly.
Around the table, gazes frequently flitted over Alex’s chest, but she found herself hardly self-conscious. Maybe it was the distraction. Maybe it was just this environment, the sordidness of everything.
Milton’s hand moved to cup Alex’s lower right breast, full and firm. It was almost casual, his arm wrapped around Alex’s back, hand gripping the mound, squeezing lightly. Alex’s face went hot, and she trailed off mid-sentence, forgetting what she had been saying to a man named Reese seated across from her.
Reese gave an amused grin as Alex closed her eyes for a moment then deeply inhaled.
It wasn’t just the embarrassment of the contact. The sensation was just so potent, so overwhelming. It made it difficult to breathe.
“You’ll have to e-excuse me for a moment,” Alex stammered, shifting on the couch, waiting for the two people to her left to make way. She could feel Milton following. Alex turned for the bathroom, when Milton’s large, strong hand grabbed her arm. Alex found herself being pulled through a side exit, and into an alleyway, where she was ushered into the back of a luxury SUV. She gasped, fumbling, as Milton followed her in.
“Fuck, I can’t keep my hands off of you.” Milton reached through Alex jacket and grabbed hold of her blouse shirt, tearing it right open. Alex’s heaving chest became exposed, her four breasts contained in the pair of black D-cup bras she had on.
Milton paused to properly appreciate them. “The hell have you been eating? You’re getting huge,” Milton muttered, looking entirely pleased.
Alex’s cheeks burned. “Less talking, more — more of that…” she groaned out as Milton trailed his hands over the full mounds. His hands slid behind Alex, expertly unhooking the two bras. Alex hissed out as the bras were thrown aside, her swollen nipples exposed to the cool air.
Then Milton leaned back and just stared at her for a while, taking in Alex’s chest. The scrutiny was embarrassing to Alex but she allowed it.
She knew that her breasts looked weirdly…swollen. Round and full. They weren’t sagging in the least, instead, too round. To the point that it was uncomfortable. They were also warm, heavy, and really sensitive. Even then, the mounds were tingling, and pressurized. Milton reached down to experimentally squeeze one of Alex’s nipples, causing her to grunt. “Easy,” Alex urged quietly.
The nipples were a darker pink than they had been before, and really swollen. Alex could tell that Milton noticed it too.
“Is it okay if I…” Milton didn’t finish the inquiry. He leaned down slowly, waiting for a protest that didn’t come. He pressed his lips flush to Alex’s upper left breast, taking the nipple into his mouth.
Alex groaned as Milton sucked. It was surprisingly uncomfortable. “Errrghh…” Alex winced, squirming. “What are you…” Her face twisted as Milton sucked even harder. Then there was a new sensation.
Wetness.
Milton pulled back, and now both could observe the droplets of…white fluid…of milk…leaking from Alex’s nipple. Alex found herself staring frozen, a bit stunned. But in the back of her mind, she’d always known what was happening. The heaviness, the bloated sensation of engorgement. Her chest heaved with her forceful breathing. It was a lot to process.
Milton leaned down again, this time taking Alex’s lower left nipple into his mouth, and doing the same. Sucking hard and breaking the barrier. In a matter of minutes, he had all four of Alex’s breasts leaking. Milton marveled down at his handiwork, clearly pleased with himself.
“God damn,” the older man muttered. “You, kid, are something else.”
Alex didn’t think she could have spoken had she tried. All of the stimulation had left her completely boneless. She continued to gasp for breath, sprawled back on those leather seats, completely ripe for the taking. It felt amazing to express the milk, though the heat only seemed to be climbing, suffocating her delightfully.
It was disorienting. She felt dizzy. “I…” Alex managed. “I should go,” she gasped out, attempting to sit up, but Milton grabbed her by the shoulder, pushing her back down.
“Oh no,” Milton leered, his eyes dark with greed. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Alex wasn’t done with him either.
-
Alex woke up late the next morning.
She felt sore and sensitive. She frowned at the way her nightshirt fell over her torso, her nipples bulging visibly against the thin material. The sensation of the cotton rubbing against them made her frequently freeze or twitch.
Alex gingerly pulled the shirt up over her head.
She used similar care as she eased her lower pair of breasts into one of her strapless bras. Once she got the contraption on, she was stunned to find her boob flesh pinching against the bra cups, overflowing them. Oh god.
She didn’t even bother trying to get a bra onto her upper breasts. She was already too uncomfortable, all four of the mounds aching. She shed the lower bra, grunting out, and taking in a long, shuddering breath.
Milton had sucked them practically all night. He had sucked more than Alex had to give. It wasn’t till the start of sunrise that Alex stumbled out of the back of Milton’s car and made her way home, breasts tender and tingling, flesh aching deliciously. But now…
Now they were swollen again. Engorged? Alex could feel the heat and pressure, her nipples hard, distended, and aching for release.
She rubbed her face. “What the hell is wrong with me?” she asked herself for what had to be the tenth time since she had gotten home.
Alex paused in memory of one detail of the previous night. She looked down at her pants from the night before, thrown over the back of her desk chair. She grabbed them, immediately digging through the pockets.
She hadn’t imagined it.
Alex withdrew a wad of $100 bills. It had to be a couple thousand dollars.
Fuck me, she thought.
-
That afternoon, Milton called her.
Alex could not recall exchanging numbers with the man, but there were admittedly a lot of blank spots in her memory of the night before.
“Hey,” Milton said, always so calm and content, a bit smug, even.
“Hi,” said Alex, her voice high, and certainly more awkward than Milton’s.
“I want to see you again,” Milton got right to the point. “You free tonight?”
Against her better judgment, against all logic, sense, and self-preservation, Alex responded, “Yeah.”
They skipped the club and went straight to Milton’s huge, penthouse apartment. It was an encore performance of the night before, and from then, they were inseparable.
-
One day, Violet disappeared.
Alex had returned home from a couple of nights spent at Milton’s, to find Violet nowhere in sight. No white goop left on the floor. Not a scribbled note. Nothing.
It was shocking, especially considering the fact that Violet wasn’t exactly mobile on her own anymore. Not with a boulder of a belly attached to her, dominating her comparatively small frame.
As baffling in concerning is this proved to be, Alex had no one she could really confide in about it. She’d never bothered to tell Milton about Violet. Alex didn’t know why, it just felt like an odd…conflict of interest, somehow. Milton was just different, and Alex couldn’t say that she quite understood him.
What was clear was that Milton was a boob guy, and he liked Alex’s, and he enjoyed Alex’s company, and he was rich to boot. They had fun together and that was all there really was to it. Thinking too much about it would only lead to reservations, complication, and a whole host of considerations when Alex would rather just preserve the good.
She went into to her bedroom and started to undress, shedding her jacket and then pulling off the tight tank top she had on. Alex sighed as she eased her breasts out of the four bra cups they were overflowing somewhat. It was a familiar sight with the rate she was growing. All four had steadily advanced to E-cups in the past couple of weeks, and seemed to be engorged constantly. She was sure that all Milton’s playing and sucking didn’t help. But it felt heavenly, and the growth was just incidental to the pure, hot pleasure.
Alex cursed quietly under her breath once she was completely topless, back arched as she breathed heavily, the four bloated globes heaving with her deep breathing.
She gingerly cupped her lower breasts with her hands. Hot, as usual, skin tingling.
Alex eased herself back against her pillows, her arm reaching out to fumble on her nightstand. She pulled her specialized breast pumps onto the bed, the ones Milton had gotten for her. The suction pulled her milk through some tubing, then into a large bottle at the other end. Alex wearily turned on the machine and attached the four suction cups to her nipples, then leaned back and groaned as her breasts were gently sucked.
She closed her eyes, imagining it was Milton sucking them, and felt herself getting wet. Her hand dipped into her panties.
She knew she was playing a dangerous game with her body. Her extra breasts were nearly impossible to hide at their current size. And yet, the strange transformation had significantly improved her life. She liked the pleasure. She liked the way Milton looked at her as though she was the most wonderful thing in the world.
Where the hell is Violet? The wonder niggled at the back of her mind.
Alex allowed herself to submerge in the pleasure of being pumped.
She would deal with the rest later.
