Pumping the Breaks

Chapter 1

Pari—roommate, caretaker, housekeeper, friend, medical professional, and researcher—was coming down with an acute, debilitating illness.

And Odette—roommate, care-receiver, friend, and max-level archmage—was learning why people always said that doctors made the worst patients.

“Really. I’m alright, Odette. I—. . .” Pari fussed before a sharp, hacking cough cut her off. The Indian-American woman usually hid her weakness, weariness, or vulnerability under a professional guise. But when Odette found her, Pari was curled under thick blankets with sweat beading on her smooth brow. Whatever virus had gotten to her was strong enough to tear down Pari’s front-facing shield, leaving little more than a sniffly-nosed, twenty-four-year-old woman with a mild fever and a vexing persistence.

“‘Alright’, you say? Most people can finish a sentence without coughing up a lung.”

“Someone’s got an attitude.”

“. . . I just care about you.”

“. . . I know.”

Odette stood beside the bed—at a distance prescribed by Pari. She couldn’t help but feel the tension in her chest at seeing her personal Miss Miracle bedridden. It just didn’t sit right. Pari was supposed to be invincible. She hadn’t been sick once in the years the two had lived together. Odette was the one with weaker, sicker days.

Things were different now. Reversed.

And It hurt—being told to pretend Pari wasn’t suffering while also being told to avoid physical contact; to go about business as usual while Pari suffered the repercussions of her all-nighters and sixteen-hour work days.

Odette couldn’t just do nothing. She definitely couldn’t pretend her best friend in the world wasn’t sick.

She wanted to help.

And, as backward as it seemed, she’d wished for this chance for a long time—when she could act as caretaker and reflect some of the adoration and appreciation she felt toward Pari. Now was that chance. Odette wasn’t the most reliable nineteen-year-old, but she could nurse a sick person. She’d watched Pari do it for years. And she could finally extend her gratitude in a way that was grown-up, mature—and not plus-nine, legendary armor with double-superior dexterity enhancements and increased dodge rate multipliers.

Because Pari didn’t seem to understand how epic such armor was, despite numerous attempts to explain it.

Odette shuffled around the approved radius of safety to the edge of Pari’s cluttered computer desk and returned with a glass of gold liquid. “I got you apple juice,” she beamed, then sat the juice on the bedside. What else would Pari say if Odette was the one sick? “Umm, make sure to drink it. It’s important to get plenty of fluids and vitamins when you’re sick.”

Pari’s brown eyes were closed but her eyebrows still twitched. “I’m. . . aware.”

“Good.” Odette waited. And waited. Her arms went up to her hips, thumbs hooked into her teal overalls. “Well? What’s taking you so long?”

“To do what? Drink the apple juice?”

Odette slumped her head forward in a knocking sort of nod.

“I’m not thirsty.”

“But your body needs fluids and vitamins. You’re sick.”

“My body has its own way of telling me what it wants. For example, if I needed apple juice, I’d feel thirsty. I don’t have that thirsty feeling right now, so—. . .” Pari’s speech broke. She coughed again.

This wasn’t going any better than explaining armor enhancements.

“You trust your body when it makes you feel like that?” Odette asked, one small hip bopped to the side.

When Pari’s coughing fit was over, she replied with a raspy, “Yup.”

“Fine. Then what does your body feel right now?”

Pari’s brow furrowed. “I feel. . . that it’s cute that you’re trying to take my job, even though you don’t have to.”

“I’m not taking your job. I’m taking care of a sick person. That’s everyone’s job—to look after those who have it harder.”

Pari opened her eyes and glared at the ceiling. “Is this what I sound like to you? When you’re sick and I lecture you?” Odette gave her a blank smile, clearly using her round face, big smile, and overall adorableness to mask what was obvious. “Gotcha. Okay, I’ve learned my lesson—no more ethics lectures when you’re sick.”

“I hope that’s not just fever-induced delirium talking.”

“I’m not delirious. To prove it, I’m going to make us some lunch so we won’t starve.”

Then, Pari pulled her legs out from the heavy blankets and made to get out of bed.

Seriously? thought Odette. How stubborn can she be?

Pari’s feet had touched the ground. She almost went to stand but Odette rushed around the bed and stood with her arms outstretched, so close that Pari would have had to push her backward just to stand up straight.

Odette could tell Pari was sick by how annoyed she looked when blocked off. She usually had much more patience for Odette’s antics, but patience was a bigger ask now that she was also suffering dizziness, fatigue, and chills.

It unmoored Odette. She wasn’t used to seeing Pari with the ragged edges exposed. She would have backed down under normal circumstances.

But Pari’s t-shirt stuck to her body from sweat. She jittered every so often like her muscles were being asked too much by being commanded to sit upright. Maybe the worst of the sickness was over, but Pari still looked like she needed one more hard, deep nap to be ready to handle hot stoves and sharp objects.

So Odette didn’t move. She stood stalwart, matching Pari’s stubbornness, so close to Pari that she could feel flannel pajamas brushing against her ankles—not even an inch from the bedside.

“What are you doing?” Pari asked.

“No. What are you doing?” Odette asked.

“I’m going to the kitchen to see what can be made for lunch. I’ll be okay, Odette. I’ve made food while feeling a little. . . under the weather.”

“Maybe before, but not since you’ve lived with me,” Odette reasoned. “There’s no reason why you can’t rest while I make lunch. You’d just infect everything anyway and I don’t want your germies all over the house.”

Pari blinked. She took Odette in, having little room to do much else with their bodies so close.

Odette watched Pari watching her. She held her arms out even wider, even when they started to burn a little from the effort.

She waited.

Gave a labored exhale through her nostrils as she squared herself to her hard-headed roommate.

And, after an eternity, Pari pulled her legs back under the covers. Odette dropped her arms and slumped forward, saying, “Thank you! Gah! My arms are burning.”

“The cost of being the boss,” Pari muttered.

“So you admit that I’m the boss?”

Pari didn't reply, still clearly annoyed, her body unusually small under the sheets.

“I know being sick sucks,” Odette said. “I hate when you make me lay down and rest, too. But you always say that it never sucks forever, so you’ll only have to put up with me babying you for a little while longer.”

The Indian woman slumped in her bed. “It’s not like that.”

“If it’s not like that, then why are you staring at me and pouting?”

“. . . Okay, so it’s a little like that,” admitted Pari, as she hid much of her face with the dark gray blanket. “I feel guilty when other people are working and I’m in bed. It’s not how I got where I am. Feels wrong. But that’s just one of three big reasons why I’m a little concerned. . .”

One of three?

“Oh!” The blonde scooped her chest up in her pink top, holding each of her engorged boobies in her too-small hands. “Right. They sure are making a lot today.” The two masses couldn’t quite balance in her palms, so Odette pressed them to the wall of her chest to keep them steady. Her boobs were about the size of party balloons in size, warm and squishy—for the moment.

But soon, that might not be the case. Both women seemed to note at similar times that Odette’s boobs were getting larger and tighter as they filled with milk. Worse yet, it seemed that they were growing at an impressive rate. Their paleness appeared in the scoop of Odette’s pink tank top, hefted up with the help of Odette’s supportive hands, two glorious mounds of sweet flesh oozing from the window provided by such a loose-fitting top.

“Would you like a hand with those?” asked Pari. “I c-could—. . . Achoo!”

“Eww!” Odette turned, putting her shoulder between the sneeze and the largest targets on her frame—her titties. “No thanks. I’ll milk myself and then I’ll make lunch happen. I can do both. Easy.”

Pari drew a tissue from a floral box on the nightstand. Her attention didn’t waver from Odette’s breasts.

The globes in question were allowed ample freedom to move about as Odette jerked or squeezed or breathed thanks to the forgiving size of the outfit. It was what Odette preferred, even if she knew Pari wouldn’t let her leave the house in such revealing clothes.

Still, the nineteen-year-old blonde had come to remember how each of her articles of clothing ought to fit and could admit that this top was already lacking some of the flowiness for which it was purchased. She similarly had a sense of how much milk she was producing, not unlike one’s sense of fullness as they ate a meal or their bloatedness when they ate too much. Much of the time she could live her life unaware of her production unless it was brought up. Those were average or slow production days.

Today, her sense of her production was right there. She barely had to bring it up to feel it, the way her breast milk made her feel so big and full. Today was going to be a high production day. It was no wonder that her top felt less empty or flowy. As she stood with her boobies in her hands, turned partly away from Pari’s sneeze, she could feel them tingling where her fingers were touching, the occasional babble of thick cream shifting around in each, both nipples pushing the front of her tank top into rounded points, standing at half attention.

There was the quietest request from her body to give herself a few soft squeezes, which she obliged momentarily. They felt great. Exactly what she needed. It would have been easy to stand there and work herself to the point where her milk would let down.

“Sure you don’t want help?” Pari sighed, seeing that Odette had paused in thought. “It’s only been a couple hours and you’re already pretty full.

Odette returned, focused on Pari and her duty to help her. “Keep your germs in here and I’ll handle everything else,” Odette smirked, dropping her boobs to flex her nonexistent, gamer girl biceps. Even if she’d been sporting some serious guns, they would have lost the battle for attention with Odette’s criminally bouncy boobies, which wobbled and clapped against one another for a record-setting length of time before settling high and proud on her contrastingly skinny body. “The lunch. The milking. I can do it all. Prepare to be amazed at how capable I am at adulting!”

“I’m probably worrying over nothing. . .”

“You absolutely are. I’ve got it.”

“If it’s too hard, just warm up some frozen bagel pizzas or something.”

“Pfft! That’s easy stuff. I’m gonna cook for real.”

Pari’s eyes slitted. She was tucked so deep in the covers that only the top half of her expression of disgust peeped over. “‘For real’, huh?”

“Name a food. Any food. I’ll make it.”

“. . .”

Odette lowered her flexed arms and came up to Pari’s bedside, hovering sweetly. “I can do it. Trust me.”

Pari’s eyes dropped then rose again. Odette noted the look, feeling Pari’s argument dissolving as each second passed. It was cheating for Odette to use her cuteness to win Pari over, but Pari cheated sometimes, too. Like when she used her big science brain to win arguments or remember recipes or solve problems. This time, Odette needed a win.

The blonde leaned further forward, infringing on the radius of safety. Her hair fell down around her beaming smile as she lowered her torso over Pari, her boobies getting nearer and nearer until. . .

“Soup. How about soup?”

“I can do soup!” Odette pumped her fist, springing into the air with the heavy leap of her tits following several seconds afterward.

“God, you’re full! Milk yourself first. And wash your hands. And don’t cut yourself on anything. And—. . .”

“Pari, relax! You lay right there and get some rest. Drink your juice.” Odette gave Pari’s thick, brown head a pat. “Watch. When you wake up again, it’s gonna be to the smell of delicious, nutritious soup made by me and me alone.”

The Indian woman’s hands folded over her stomach. She didn’t exactly look happy, but she carried a hope in her crusty, red eyes. With a sigh, she let her head fall back against her gray pillow and turned her body a bit toward the nightstand. She even gave the glass of apple juice a sip, then reclined with her eyes closed.

“Come get me if you have questions. . .” she said—before instantly falling asleep.

Odette’s heart raced. It was time. Finally. This was her shot!

She rushed into the kitchen, ready to show Pari the extent of her appreciation with a warm meal.

“Okay, soup. Prepare to be made. How hard can soup be?”

* *

The doorbell rang.

Odette opened it and found Amanda, Janet, and Theo.

“Soup is hard! I can’t do this. HelpmepleaseIhavenoideawhatI’mdoingandParisleepslikethedeadand—. . .” Odette blurted.

“Fear not. Cavalry’s here,” Amanda said, her emerald green eyes shining with recognition and confidence. “Oh, and the cavalry brought Janet and Theo for emotional support.”

Theo and Janet made contrary noises that were swallowed up in the squishiness when Amanda and Odette hugged each other. Since Amanda was average in height, she was a solid head above Odette. And although she objected to it, the fact that she carried around an extra twenty or thirty pounds made her the best hugger in the group by far. It had felt like forever since Odette had been truly wrapped in warmth as she did with Amanda’s purple hoodie surrounding her.

They broke up after a gratuitous display of friendship, Amanda swearing to catch up with Odette after they started work.

Then, Theo entered behind Amanda. “I-I can cook, too,” he said, managing a smile at the young blonde, which Odette reciprocated with a full-cheeked grin. He came as close as Amanda did when entering Odette’s house and paused as if he might want a hug too, but scurried into the house before either of them could act on it, playing with a strand of blonde hair that dangled between his eyes.

Janet approached. She smiled until the other two were out of earshot. Then, her deep brown eyes swirled with worry. “Odette. D-Do you see how big you are? H-Have you, umm, milked yourself lately?”

“I have, but. . .” Odette looked at Janet. Her friend wore a thin, cream-colored sweater dress that was too big to keep from sliding down her shoulders but flatteringly small at her chest. Janet wasn’t the fashionable sort—which was part of the reason she and Odette got along so well. But even the untrained eye could determine that there was something right about the way her long, black hime cut hair contrasted her onyx black leggings with the cream dress that accentuated her boobies in the middle.

“Odette? O-Odette?” Janet waved a hand. “Are you going to let me in?”

The urge was too strong. Odette glomped Janet in a warm embrace without answering the question.

“H-Hey! I—. . . It’s good to see you too.”

“Sorry,” Odette said, appreciating Janet holding her close. “I wanted to respond, but I needed to feel your cuteness first.”

“Feel my cuteness?” Janet said, voice trembling as her cheeks filled with a rosy hue.

“Yup. Janet’s cuteness. Missed it so, so much,” Odette smirked, resting her head on Janet’s shoulder.

Though clearly flustered by the gesture, the Japanese woman responded. “Sh-Shouldn’t we be more serious right now?”

“Your cuteness is strictly business, I promise.”

“Hmph!” Janet huffed. Using a straightened index finger to lightly poke at Odette’s swelling breasts. “Now you’re just teasing to get out of trouble. You definitely need to take care of yourself. Did you skip your morning milking?”

Odette felt the familiar bulge of her milk in each breast, the downward pull of her boobies as they perched braless against her ribcage. “Hmm, no. I milked this morning. It’s the midday one that I’m overdue for—What?! I haven’t had a chance! Don’t make that face.”

Janet broke the hug and entered the entryway. Odette closed the door behind them and rushed to catch up.

“Well, you should focus on doing that. Y-You look super engorged right now,” Janet said. “Amanda doesn’t know, but she’s pretty cool about everything. I’m sure she noticed how big you were in that tank top, but she didn’t bring it up.”

“I should tell her at some point. It’s not like it’s a secret. And like you said, she’s probably noticed and is just being respectful.”

Odette was on her way to do just that until Janet, who stood just inside the entryway, put a stop to it. Odette’s amber eyes regarded Janet questioningly.

“I-I think you should. But not right now—not while Th-Theo is. . .”

“What about Theo?” Odette asked, voice unreserved.

Janet shushed Odette with the same boob-prodding finger, flexing her ability to pout, frown, and be embarrassed at the same time.

“What?!” Odette froze, spine straight and titties bobbling at the sudden stillness.

“Not so loud!”

“Why not? This is my house. I’m not going to disturb—. . . Oh! Right. Pari’s sleeping. Whoopsie. . .”

“No, not that. It’s. . .” Janet gestured for Odette to wait in the hallway near the door. She then tiptoed down the hall till she came to the corner on the left where the light of the kitchen spilled out into the rest of the house. Whether or not she saw what she was looking for, she doubled back to Odette and said, “Maybe we should go to your room first? To be alone?”

Odette didn’t understand.

Sure, Janet always had an anxious edge to her, but this seemed like more than that. If only Pari was here. She’s good at thinking about people and stuff, she thought. Instead of thoughts and deductions, Odette had a nest of complex emotions pulling her in every direction. She had a strong urge to stop Janet and figure out what was wrong, but didn’t know how she could accomplish such a thing without making things worse.

But she also wanted to know if there was something wrong with Theo.

And she needed to go talk to Amanda, too.

So many decisions. So many friends to keep happy.

Janet was crouched a little to look Odette in the eye. She seemed concerned, her thighs pressed tight together, soft and full.

Odette made a decision.

She cupped her hand beside her mouth and yelled. “Hey, Amanda?!”

Janet leaped with a start.

“Yea?” Amanda shouted back, her voice coming from the kitchen.

“Janet and I are going to my room for a little bit. We’ll be right back, okay?”

“You’d better not make me do all the work after asking for my help, Odette!”

Odette giggled. “Twenty minutes! Tops!”

Amanda made her groan as loud as the rest of the yelling. “Make it fifteen!”

“C’mon, Janet,” Odette said, dragging the cringing Japanese woman back down the hall.

They made a right at the front door, moved past the garage door, and into Odette’s space. Once inside the near-square of a room, the girls closed the door behind them. Odette reclined in her high-backed gaming chair while Janet meandered around the large space, gawking openly at the recently-renovated room.

“You’ve made some changes since I’ve last been here. Looks really cool—I love the decorations.”

“Thanks. It’s become a bit of a hobby of mine.”

“You’re really good at it.”

“And don’t tell Pari, but I want to start making videos one day,” Odette offered.

“Like, stuff to go online? Entertainment?”

“Yea, like, ForeverAge2 videos. And if people like it, I’ll start streaming the game. I didn’t want to dive right in just yet, but I figured getting some cute lights couldn’t hurt.”

The lights blinked purple, blue, and pink and lined the floorboards around the room. Similar lights snaked around Odette’s desk, creating a breathing effect against the wall behind and the floor beneath. To the untrained eye, it might have looked like her desk was floating, ready for take off. It was a pastel gamer girl’s paradise.

There was so much ambient light that turning on the ceiling light wasn’t necessary. Both girls could see one another. Their features caught the changing lights. Their bodies became the canvas on which rushing, pulsing color was applied. And what spanning canvases the two had: Odette with her wealth of perky, milky boobage that constantly filled her tank top and Janet whose tits combined with her impressively wide hips and plump booty to create a salacious hourglass—the likes of which juxtaposed her high-strung personality almost poetically.

“It feels like Holi,” Janet said, after taking a deep breath. “But cleaner and way more. . .”

“Nerdy,” Odette completed, giggling. “So, why did you want to see my room?”

Janet’s gait stiffened. She didn’t mosey another step, instead choosing to sit on Odette’s bed, facing the door, face turned pink by the LED strip lights.

She paused a beat, then began.

“Did you notice Theo when he came inside?” Janet asked slowly.

Odette didn’t have to think much for her answer. “Sure. He walked right past me. Why?”

“Did you notice anything about the way he came in? Anything weird?”

“Was there something I was supposed to notice?” Odette folded her arms, feeling the flesh of her boobies against her forearms as she thought. “Oh no—did he get a haircut? I’d feel bad if he got a haircut and I didn’t compliment him. What kind of friend would I be not to point out how nice he looks after a haircut?”

“He didn’t get a haircut,” Janet replied.

“Did you get a haircut?”

“No. Well, I did have it styled, but that was almost three weeks ago, and—”

“Your hair looks great, Janet. It suits you. Sorry for not saying anything sooner.”

Janet pouted, running her straight, black hair through her fingers as she stared coyly at the ceiling. “Thanks. I-It wasn’t that big of a change. I didn’t. . . Wait, this isn’t about me. It’s about Theo. D-Did you notice him—how do I put this?” Janet stopped to consider. “When Theo came in, did you notice him stop to look at you? C-Closely?”

Odette leaned back in her chair till it bumped against her desk. “Umm, not really? No more than usual.”

“So he always looks straight at your boobs like that? Like, umm, longingly?”

Odette squinted some and took Janet in. She could see the distress in just the profile of her friend’s face. “Yea, Janet. That’s what he does. He looks at my boobs—a lot, actually.”

Janet did a quarter turn to look straight at Odette, legs folded on the bed. Her hand clasped her ankle, a few fingers fidgeting to get under the hole of her white socks, nervous. “And that’s okay with you? Y-You don’t think that’s a little odd?”

“Why would I think it’s odd? People look at my boobs all the time. You look at my boobs sometimes, too.”

“W-Wait! Y-You’ve caught me?!” Janet whisper-shrieked.

Odette nodded, then gave both her shirt stretchers a few bounces for emphasis. “People look because my boobs are big. It’s natural. They take up a bunch of my body. It would be weird for him not to look at them, wouldn’t it?”

“But he’s a b-boy. . .” Janet stammered. When Odette didn’t react to this—in truth, she was still bouncing her boobs in her hands, playful with their hefty, springy softness—Janet sulked. “This isn’t going right.”

“What’s this about Janet? Is something the matter with Theo?”

“No. Or, yes? Something is the matter. I guess what I’m trying to get at is. . . I wonder if you have,” Janet’s face pulled so tight from her frown that it looked near to tearing like paper around her clenched teeth. “I’m just going to come out and say it.”

“Would you? Please?”

Janet inhaled. Each word came out like a boulder. “Odette, do you have feelings for Theo?”