Pumping the Breaks 

Chapter 10

[ Summary:  Odette and Pari finally get their moment to bond over Odette's milk. Except, are they the only two who will get a chance to bond over Odette's milk?] 

Pari felt left out and Odette was going to do something about it. 

The brief, conversational exchange earlier had come with a sort of levity—the sort you question while in the back of an ambulance, moments after attending to what should have been considered a “medical emergency”.

Instead, they joked about the absurdity of Odette ever becoming an A cup given her milky condition and about promises made that morning. 

All the while, Odette couldn’t dismiss the intuition that, in all her attempts to make life easier for her sick friend, she’d only succeeded in worrying and excluding her. The exclusion was the bigger sin, though. The blonde knew so now, several gallons of breast milk later.

I will never take another sick day off. Ever. Ever. Not for as long as I live. 

Those had been Pari’s words, her reaction to the drama, beneath which loomed an implication that Odette sensed and responded to.

I still owe you lunch, right? 

At those words, Pari’s stern, tight-lipped expression broke into pieces. A shaky grin appeared on her lips, lips that were full, succulent, and sweet, more appetizing than chocolate-covered strawberries. Without saying so, she’d said so much—was still speaking in the way that her strong nose tilted lower and brown eyes flashed, the darker flecks swirling within them. 

Odette watched Pari, the metal walls of the ambulance retreating the longer she stared. She was finding her friend deeply and enchantingly fascinating. It didn’t seem to matter that the two lived together—fought each other, disagreed with one another, sacrificed and shared with each other. The Pari on her knees at that moment was the same woman, but somehow she was more intensely herself. Not different, but distinct. 

It wasn’t Pari’s beauty, either. In fairness, Odette would have been able to tell that Pari was sick just a few hours ago without living with her. The woman’s face was puffy, her nose redder than usual. The TSA might’ve cited the rules on carry-on luggage based on the size of the bags beneath her eyes.

But something else shone through the sickness. That same thing was knitted into each action Pari had taken since she found Odette collapsed in Fresh Farmers minutes before. 

It didn’t have a name. Odette was bad at names. She called it “greed” before, which fit about as well as a G cup bra would’ve fit her current breasts. 

So, theoretically, but also inadequately. 

But that something acted like a magnet that drew the blonde in, coaxing her off the hard, poorly-cushioned bench in the ambulance, unsatisfied till she was tugged into Pari’s embrace, physical closeness being the fastest way to reach the other innumerable ways that the two could feel “close”. 

“Pari. . .” Odette said. 

Pari blinked twice, the edge of her mouth twitching. She didn’t deflect to the seriousness of the milking or the professionalism they ought to show or the danger of being caught when Amanda and Janet returned. Pari without her guard was Pari without excuse. 

Her coffee-colored gaze dipped lower, capturing Odette’s heavy breasts like sugar-white islands amidst an otherwise empty sea. Wanting them. Seeking them. Jealous that others had braved their beaches when she hadn’t gotten a chance to herself. 

All assumptions, but ones Odette wanted to be true so, so badly.

As Pari caused her boobies to smolder by looking at them so intensely, Odette willed them to produce more milk. It wasn’t that they could actually listen to her—historically, the opposite was the case—but being with Pari made her want to produce more, to pay Pari back for every missed opportunity throughout the day, the moments when Amanda or Janet or Theo had been privy to Odette’s growing, creamy issues; issues that Pari had been excluded from. 

Whether or not they started to swell at Odette’s insistence or Pari’s crawling on the ambulance floor toward the blonde wasn’t knowable. 

Regardless, Odette felt them tightening, milk causing them to blimp slowly but evidently as she angled herself to better face her caretaker. Even the subtle turn caused her tits to wobble and bounce, applauding the initiative both women were showing. When Pari scooted closer, pushing the massive plastic container full of milk to the side, Odette slid from her perch inch by inch.

Pari’s full lips were enchanting. Her strong arms and dutiful hands were seducing. Her shirt clinged to her pert, full chest from how soaked it was with stray bands of Odette’s cream. 

And Pari had great boobies, too. Objectively. Like, people usually noticed Odette’s boobs first for obvious reasons, but being the de facto expert on nice tits, Odette felt sad that her chest often stole the spotlight. 

“Nice boobs,” Odette said, the urge turning verbal before she had a moment to stop it. 

Pari’s head cocked one degree to the side. “Uh, what?”

“Good size. Good shape. You’ve got boobs, Pari,” Odette clarified, nodding.

“Th-Thank you? Now, what prompted that?”

It was Odette’s turn to tilt her head. She knew she couldn’t explain what prompted it. But she could feel the lure of Pari’s features, the tickling pleasure coiling around her most sensitive spaces, making her heart flutter like drinking three Behemoth energy drinks in quick succession. The sense intensified when she witnessed Pari’s confusion morphing into puckered lips, catching her always-composed caretaker tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. It felt like energy, like she could have cartwheeled into Pari’s arms given the space. 

But her day had been long and her tits were still oppressively heavy, so instead of impressing her friend with gymnastics, Odette collapsed into Pari with a half-hearted leap with full expectation that she’d be caught.

The two tumbled, Pari landing on her back with Odette’s body clutched close. They didn’t make much noise as Pari, in her near supernatural ability to be composed under pressure, had rolled onto her back rather than being clocked like an under-fed linebacker. Whether or not they’d made much noise wasn’t something that Odette would have noticed, though. She found that her entire focus rested on Pari’s person: her face, her body, the play of different emotions on her features. 

At that moment, Pari rolled her eyes. 

“Couldn’t be subtle about it, huh?” Pari mumbled. 

“I’m learning that I’m less subtle than I think,” Odette replied, the Fresh Farmer fiasco fresh on her mind. The thought was unwelcome. When she felt her breasts filling up again, slowly gaining in size as they dangled on Pari’s upper chest, she allowed that to take over her mind once again. “I promise I’ll work on it, Pari,” she said, insistent. 

Pari softened. 

Odette glowed. 

Odette’s blond hair draped down around the two, long enough to brush the floor of the ambulance on both sides. Combined with her pendulously dangling titties, Odette’s body was an ever-cascading warmth, a waterfall that she wished to give her partner. When she found the strength, she pushed up on her hands and knees and crawled further up Pari’s longer, larger body until her chest brushed up against Pari’s chin. 

She was still massive—still the biggest boobs she’d seen on anyone. Even as the upper edge of her dangling knockers stroked Pari’s cheeks, the lower boundaries spread out along the ambulance floor, further flesh still caught between Pari’s earlobe and shoulders. Their weight dragged pleasantly on Odette’s shoulders, pulling on her, ever tugging on her front. Milk sloshed and gurgled in each, no longer deafening but constantly singing. Her veins had never been so prominent, her nipples never so erect. When she rocked herself forward and dragged her overstuffed blimps further onto her friend’s face, she didn’t miss Pari’s eyes fluttering closed as they were eclipsed by the wall of tit. 

“Sorry I worried you,” said Odette.

Without an answer, wet warmth surrounded her flaming right point. Odette’s upper back dropped closer to Pari, neck extended, chin rolled back. “Mmmh!” she moaned, and the same levity from their light banter redoubled.

She let down. 

At once, she could feel a bump of improved production in each breast, the left starting a steady drip as it mashed into the floor unattended. But Pari was receiving her fill, and that’s what mattered. In that sense, all was right in the world. Odette’s areola rolled back and forth between Pari’s soft lips, her nipple constantly straightened by the forceful sucking. Between Pari’s dextrous tongue and her demanding teeth, nothing hindered Odette’s breast from serving up the same liters of milk as before, piped directly into Pari’s mouth. 

The brunette’s gulping was noisy and satisfying, a wet, deep rhythm that built up pressure until it was intolerable before stealing it away at just the right moment. From the look of it, Pari should have been completely claimed by Odette’s vast, head-dwarfing mammaries. Odette’s pillows certainly would have overwhelmed someone unpracticed or unfamiliar. 

Fortunately, Pari was both practiced and familiar. The blonde didn’t worry at all. The confidence of the swallowing told a different story entirely: that despite Odette’s advantage of size and heft, the breastfeeding brunette was calling all the shots, completely in control. 

If there was anything to be concerned about, it wasn’t whether or not Pari would be suffocated under Odette’s creamy, pale spheres, but whether or not Odette would remain conscious from the bombardment of pleasure her body underwent at finally getting to feed a passionate, hungry mouth.

Liter after liter of milk was drawn away from the blonde’s enormous breast. Meanwhile, Odette found the strength to comb her fingers through Pari’s hair, stroking the thick brown curls as encouragement while her boobies met her partner’s every need. 

Pari was so fast, so active. No amount of cream was too much for her. She seamlessly worked in moments to breathe, during which the blonde would feel a strong puff of air on her moonish blimps. Then, like she’d trained as a professional diver, she’d submerge herself once more, latching on for another heavy torrent of thick, warm cream. 

The whole ambulance was thick with the smell of cream. The warmth of spilled breast milk created a small, heated puddle, the towels around them unable to absorb small lakes of pure, white liquid that managed to escape Pari’s vacuum-like lips. As breastfeeding remained a constant, the two shifted around one another, accenting the steady pleasure and comfort with fiery feasting. 

Pari’s left leg pulled up and back. She pushed off the floor of the ambulance to help her body turn further into Odette’s titty. For a while, she wasn’t focused on drinking and instead worked her lips like a ring of kisses around the plump, pink areola. She was thinking about Odette’s pleasure, then. Unwilling to selfishly indulge without paying her partner back, a hand spared to hold Odette’s superior titty. The way she worked her jaw around the supple, soft flesh made Odette's gaze come unfocused, dotting the edges of it with stars. The sounds changed. Fewer milk-taxed swallows. More moans and sighs. 

Pari had pretty sighs. Quick, pretty melodies, a sort of being lost in something that lowered inhibitions, a rare treat to the ears. Odette could feel the songs were for her and her alone. 

Then, succumbing to pleasure, Odette would drop onto her boobs, resting herself atop them in a dual desire to treat Pari to more of her huge, warm pillows and to chase that blissful pleasure of having her flesh pinched and licked and serenaded by her partner’s lips. 

“Yes,” Odette purred, though slurred by pleasure, she heard herself saying “Yersh” more than anything. She didn’t think Pari could hear her when she flattened her boobies down so hard anyway. Instead, she memorized the shape of Pari’s body beneath the spread of her gazongas and let herself be aroused at the sensation of trapping someone underneath her cream-glutted milk producers. She loved how Pari clawed at her from below, gripping her at the flanks, clutching whatever titty flesh she could palm with fervent desire, an unspoken roiling that began with her greedy fingers and moved through the rest of her body. The greed made Pari’s hips roll upward till they kissed and danced with Odette’s. Greed brought Pari’s stomach up off the floor, defying gravity just to feel the bridge of the blonde’s body above her. Greed hooked Pari’s right calf around Odette’s left leg. 

No amount of being close could ever be close enough. 

Then, Pari would relax with the need for air and milk, and Odette would return to full height from above, and the breastfeeding would resume in earnest after being stoked by the unarticulated intimacies which had stacked to impressive heights after just a day’s worth of being apart. 

Pari latched on again, sucking down cream like a competition. 

And Odette kept her warm and in place with her vast blanket of boob, making rings on her fingers with the waves of Pari’s long, pretty hair. 

“I won’t do that again,” said Odette. “I won’t leave you out of anything this important anymore. I promise.”

How could she have gone on such a long, embarrassing adventure only to find that the only place she needed to be was laying with Pari, offering her all the thick, sweet milk she could drink? Why, after all the efforts she’d taken to give Pari the proper care, was the ultimate comfort found on the floor of an ambulance, wet with milk, entwined with Pari?

It seemed so silly—she’d been so presumptuous before. But Odette was thankful regardless; thankful that the simplest approach was the one that worked; that felt the most right. 

She laid with her friend for what felt like hours, propped on her left arm. She gazed without cloying at the peace that her huge, creamy mammaries created, watching the steady drawing of her steamy brew and the satisfying swallows it produced. 

There was certainly a question that needed answering: how could the source of her worries—her troublemaking titties—also be the key to dismissing stress and anxiety? But her body was so flooded with positivity that she found no need to stress out her brain with philosophy. 

She ducked her head down, pressed her forehead into Pari’s, and closed her eyes. 

“As much as you want,” she encouraged. “Don’t stop until you’re happy. Sorry for leaving you out.”

And Pari did so. Her drinking didn’t slow, her pacing immaculate. Thrice more, the pair devolved into hot, heavy cuddling only to return to their slow, easy breastfeeding homebase. Each time, Pari became more insistent, hugging Odette closer to her body. Each time, Odette could feel the changes her milk was having on Pari’s frame. When they hugged, a larger and broader section of Pari’s middle pressed into her, a tightness that a wet shirt had no hope of hiding. Again, Odette wasn’t concerned by it. Even when it became large enough to be intrusive, Odette couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. Her milk had produced such a bump, and would continue to make it larger as Pari continued to drink. 

She reminded herself that no matter how big or tight Pari’s tummy became, it would always be a testament to how good she could make her partner feel. 

And when it became so big that Odette could rest on top of it without freeing herself from Pari’s sucking lips, the blonde only wished that she could be even bigger and milkier just to make her housemate that much happier. 

Gulp after noisy gulp, Pari continued to drink, filling herself to satiety on a meal made of sweet, thick milk alone. 

But the spontaneous session couldn't last forever.

Too soon, Pari stirred beneath Odette, breaking free with a wet gasp. She breathed deeply, then curled and began to rest. Odette joined her, needing a moment when her energy wasn’t literally being siphoned away from her. The two laid in silence. Pari pulled at Odette’s lower back, holding her. Odette counted the innumerable sensations of her body against Pari’s—every inch where they shared contact.

“You barely shrank a few inches,” noted Pari. 

Odette was pleased when Pari didn’t sound disappointed by that fact. “I think I’m matching how much you’re drinking.”

“I know I should have drank faster, but I was afraid I might hurt you. You’re really sensitive right now, aren’t you?”

“I am, but it’s okay.” Odette’s head rolled to the left, never breaking contact with Pari’s, never opening her eyes. Her titties were a third and fourth party to the conversation, both bunched up mere inches away, a constant source of bliss and reassurance. “I don’t want to be smaller.”

“You need to be, though.”

“I want to stay big.”

“How come?”

“I want to be big enough to feed you forever. . .”

“. . . Odette.”

Odette lowered herself onto her left side. She scooped Pari’s head into her arms and cradled her partner closer. It wasn’t as smooth or as sexy as it intended, but Odette overlooked her inexperience and love-drunk clumsiness and pulled at the back of Pari’s neck, clutching her friend against her chest. Given a moment for her reluctance to melt away, Odette found exactly what she’d been trying to find all along: a weary, satisfied Pari, entirely surrendered between her breasts, finding rest in shadowy cleavage and bubbling brew. 

“You can’t stay this big forever,” Pari spoke, muffled as she spoke directly to Odette’s heart through more than a foot of flesh and breast milk. 

“I won’t, but I want to.”

Pari hid weak kisses on the inside of Odette’s titties at that answer. The attention from her friend’s lips made Odette feel bloated and tight, her titties getting larger and larger once more without an outlet for expression. 

Except, rather than urgent worry, the swelling of her tits filled her with confidence. 

“This isn’t right,” Pari grumbled. 

“It’s right for us right now,” Odette replied. 

“You’re getting bigger. I can feel you growing.”

“For you.”

“So big. . . for me. . .”

“Yup.”

Pari treated herself to more kisses. They tickled, making Odette smile and curl even more, further intertwining their lateral bodies. The view couldn’t be beat: her friend’s head surrounded in flesh that grew in little tremors, nipples that continued to fire long bands of milk across the ambulance from being squeezed so tight. 

“C’mon, Pari. Drink. . .” Odette coaxed. Though this time, her begging was for Pari’s sake instead of her own. 

Pari grumbled. It sounded like she had been halfway considering a nap. It wasn’t good to sleep on a full stomach, but the exception could be made given the circumstances. 

Still, if Pari felt she could drink more, then Odette wanted her to have more. She felt an unmatched desire to spoil and treat Pari—finally felt that she had something she could give back after all the times that Pari had looked out for her. 

It felt as good as she hoped it would to serve Pari. She didn’t want it to end. 

“I’ve never drank that much before. . .” answered Pari. 

“And you don’t have to stop.”

“You’ve got to get under control. We should milk you down.”

“But it would be a waste if somebody didn’t drink it. . .”

“Don’t start thinking that you’re going to get to breastfeed all the time, Odette. . .”

Odette pouted audibly. 

“It’s an exception for when you’re particularly hard to manage.”

“It doesn’t have to be all the time. I just. . .” 

“Uh-huh?”

Odette’s voice was a breath. “For you, when you need it. . . I want to always have enough to make you feel the way you do right now.” At these words, Odette clutched Pari harder, the resolve in her voice matching the insistence in her hands. 

Pari didn’t speak for a long, long time after that. She lay there, the only sign of her being awake the occasional kiss or twitch of her fingers. 

Odette wondered what in the world Pari thought about when they both went quiet like that. It had to be something advanced like calculus or the chemical make-up of some rare organism. Something beyond the average mind, something that took serious consideration. Odette knew it would always be beyond her, at least. But that was alright, because the blonde enjoyed the quiet for all the things she could fill it with: the textures of wet, thin clothes, the noise of her burgeoning breasts and Pari’s cutely gurgling tummy, the sense that nothing could interfere or trouble them when they were so closely knotted together.

Pari could think as long as she wanted. 

And when she came to the end of the problem, Odette hoped that it would end with something so simple that even Odette could understand. 

Something like. . .

“Thank you, Odette,” said Pari, with no amendment. 

And Odette let the sentiment sink as deep as it would go, so deep that the little glow it created could be disturbed by nothing, treasured by her alone. 

When she knew nothing could dislodge this new feeling, she grinned mischievously. 

“So, you like my milk? Does it taste good?”

Pari groaned. 

“You can go ahead and admit it: breast milk is as good as chicken noodle soup for sick people.”

“I don’t feel comfortable saying that,” Pari said. “As a sick, sleepy medical professional.”

“But it boosts morale.” 

“Okay. . .”

“Especially my milk.”

“Sure.”

“Sure. . .”

Pari snuggled deeper between Odette’s breasts. “. . .”

“Pari! Admit I have the best boobs for sick people.”

“I don’t have anyone else’s milk to compare. It’s not like lactating women line up for me to conduct any actual clinical trials. . .”

“. . .”

Odette didn’t reply. She was sure that she’d heard whimpering, but had assumed it came from Pari. The two were so close that she took for granted the various sounds of their bodies and speech. 

But even in all her moaning and sighing, Pari hadn’t sounded so. . . embarrassed. 

The blonde’s back faced the back of the ambulance. She couldn’t turn over with Pari clinging to her so tightly. 

“Odette—. . .” started Pari. 

“Shh!” hushed Odette. Then, after listening so long that her ears started to tingle, Odette heard the scuffling of shoes on asphalt just a few feet behind her. “Janet?” she asked tentatively. 

“Eep!” squealed Janet. 

Remaining still, caught in the act, Odette remained as calm as she was able. “How long have you been watching?” 

Janet’s voice was small, almost incomprehensible. “I-I couldn’t see much, but. . . Maybe, kinda, sorta, the beginning?”

Odette giggled nervously. She began to feel relief that Pari couldn't have heard Janet’s admission with her ears covered by Odette’s boobies only to feel the brunette shuffling away from her, poking her head free of Odette’s soft, feminine hideaway. 

“Don’t be mad. . .” Odette muttered, seeing Pari pinch the bridge of her nose. 

“No, no,” said Pari. “This is what I wanted to avoid, but. . .” 

Pari broke to sigh again. With herculean effort, Odette and Pari tore free from one another fully, then assumed upright sitting positions. Pari’s weight shifted back onto an outstretched arm, her let hand on the pregnant swell of her stomach, evidence of the full meal she’d just enjoyed. Odette sat on her knees next to her. Janet used the ambulance door to block half of her body. 

“Where’s Amanda?” Pari asked. 

Janet tore her attention away from Odette’s topless form long enough to respond. “Sh-She’s here. Just, uh, w-went walking in the parking lot to try to dry off after I spilled the m-milk on her.”

“Call her back, then get inside,” Pari commanded. “We’re all going to have a little chat about how to help Odette.”

Odette couldn’t believe what Pari had just said. “You want them to—”

Janet blurted. “Am I in trouble?”

“They’re your friends. They want to help. So I’m. . . condoning this. Just once. To get you under control. . .”

Condoning what, exactly?