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Lactogenesis 03
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Chris sat in the endocrinologist's office, watching impatiently as
Dr. Ellis ("call me Sheila", she had said) pored over an imposing-looking
stack of laboratory results. In the two weeks since she'd left the
hospital, she'd visited this office three times, each time giving up what
she thought was an inordinate amount of blood for tests and submitting to
microscopic goings-over of her ever-changing body. At those times Chris
had thought that Dr. Frankenmuth had had a gentler touch -- or maybe that
was because Frankenmuth had been a man.
Chris thought back over those last two weeks. She remembered getting
dressed the day of her discharge from the hospital. It was her first time
in street clothes in almost a month. The outfit she had worn the day of
the accident was a total loss, of course, but her neighbor Sherri had
brought her outfits from Chris's apartment. Chris had tried to put on her
undergarments, and laughed out loud at the result. She was still thin
from the weight loss she'd experienced, so the panties were loose on her,
but the bra was ridiculously small. She'd even checked the tag on it:
sure enough, 34B. Her breasts had swollen to 36C by that time. She had
had to forgo the bra for the trip home. She hadn't done that in some
tIme, and reveled in the feel of the fabric of her blouse teasing her
nipples as she moved. By the time she'd gotten home, they were so hard
and sensitive they ached, and she was sure she'd have to change those
too-big panties.
That first day home had been a one-woman orgy. Consumed with
curiosity as to whether her
gushing orgasm at the hands of Dr. Frankenmuth had been just a fluke,
Chris couldn't wait to attain the privacy of her own apartment before
seeing for herself. She'd thought about it in the hospital but was afraid
someone coming for yet another blood sample would catch her in the act.
She hadn't even unpacked her valise before dashing into the bedroom,
stripping off her clothes, and going straight for her nightstand, where
sure enough, the vibrator was just where she had left it. It was one of
those G-spot vibrators with the bent tip, designed to hit that magic place
within the vagina. She remembered that it had felt better than a standard
bullet-shaped model, but she'd never achieved anything with it like the
tsunami that had happened in her hospital room. Maybe that would change.
She lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. She felt the warmth and
weight of her breasts as they pressed against her rib cage. They didn't
spread out much, not as much as they used to. Not only were they getting
bigger, they were getting firmer, too. She brushed her fingertips against
her nipples, which were now a full three-quarters of an inch long and as
big around as her little finger. A pins-and-needles feeling spread from
the tips of each breast, down her tummy to her cunt. On impulse, she
pinched both nipples between thumbs and forefingers and tugged. The
tingles intensified, and she could feel herself getting wet. She began
stroking, kneading, squeezing her breasts. She was amazed at the feeling
-- the flesh didn't feel like what she was used to, and that was
incredibly exciting for her. She returned to massaging her nipples,
tracing slow circles around the wine-red areolae (they'd continued to
darken during her stay in the hospital). She could feel her hips
beginning to rise and fall of their own accord, so she clamped her legs
tightly together to intensify the slow burn that was beginning in her
clit. She pulled her nipples so hard that her breasts rose from their
resting place, and that put her over the edge. A wave of ecstasy rolled
across her body, and sure enough, the floodgates opened. Her legs were
pressed so tightly together that her juice sprayed forcefully straight
into the air and down into the mattress. She opened her eyes to find
everything below her navel dripping wet. Oddly enough, her fingers were
wet, too. She looked down at her breasts and was mildly shocked to find a
yellowish fluid seeping slowly from her still-hard nipples. Her joy
overcame her shock, though. She had just brought herself off without even
having touched her clit. That was *really* unusual for her, and that
first squirting orgasm hadn't been a fluke after all. Somehow she was now
able to ejaculate. Chris remembered having seen a porn film featuring an
actress named Fallon who shot juice from her pussy, and remembered how
she'd been convinced she was only peeing. Now she knew better.
The session hadn't ended there, though. The vibrator had yet to be
touched. Chris turned it on and guided it slowly along her waist and
across the insides of her thighs, feeling the vibrations merge with the
trembling of her muscles. She reached her clit and pressed the head of
the vibrator just above the hood. Suddenly she felt an overpowering urge
to have that thing inside her. She flung her legs wide and with a single
motion buried it to the hilt in her sopping wet snatch. The bent tip was
facing forward, and Chris felt it nudge a swollen area of tissue deep
within her vagina. She came immediately, and more forcefully than before.
She felt hot liquid splash along her calves as she rode the crest of the
wave. When she came down, she saw that the fluid from her distended
nipples had formed rivulets that coursed down into her armpits, and her
bedclothes were wet all the way to the foot of her bed. Lost in the
wonder of the fantastic and as yet unexplained changes that had happened
to her body, Chris masturbated for hours that day, eventually losing count
of her orgasms, each of which produced liquid both above and below, but in
ever-decreasing amounts until she was finally spent. And very thirsty.
Those two weeks had brought on numerous repeats of this activity.
Chris was completely taken up in reveling in this new body of hers, which
had continued to change. She became more svelte; her skin, loosened by
the weight loss, tightened around a tummy that was now washboard flat.
Her hips became more defined. Her bush had proliferated considerably, to
the point where Chris decided to shave it completely off. *That* had been
quite an experience; she barely had kept from nicking herself with her
shaking hands. The sight of her bald beaver had so excited her that she'd
had three orgasms in rapid succession from only the slightest of
manipulations. By then she had learned to put a plastic drop cloth on the
bed. Her breasts continued to change. They now leaked this same
yellowish fluid more often, not just at orgasm. They also continued to
grow and get firmer. Chris had had to make two trips to the store for
bras as she continued to outgrow them. She finally seemed to level off at
38D, but she was having to use the last set of hooks and even those cups
seemed a trifle confining.
Her thoughts returned to the present, for Sheila had completed her
examination of the lab results and was looking up at her.
<<to be continued>>
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