Pumping the Breaks 

Chapter 12

[ Summary:  Janet awakens her impressive, breast milking abilities. Then, Odette puts her faith in Pari.] 

The sight of Janet’s unguarded booty made Odette’s boobs gush breast milk like never before.

Odette held the back of Janet’s head, scooping up thick, silky hair. She wanted Janet to stay as close as possible, to extend the sensation of having Janet latched on to her right breast as Odette’s milk production spiked.

It was a perfect storm: Janet finally getting her teeth around Odette’s areola, Odette’s arousal reaching a zenith, and the realization that Janet’s amazing figure was just inches away; visual stimulation of the big booty sort. When blended together, these factors turned Odette’s body into even more of a milk factory, one whose orders were to rush milk to Odette’s nipples to service the hungry mouth waiting to be filled.

Something about it being Janet on the other end made the let down even more violent.

“Mmmh!” Odette moaned. Her voice turned shrill, rising into a whistling wince. “Ahh! Mmmh! Man it’s—. . . So much.”

Her right nipple swelled intensely as rapidly produced breast milk rushed to her well-pleasured nozzle. The abundance of excess cream made the thick, throbbing rod ache as Janet pinned it behind her teeth, holding it hostage behind her lips. Milk poured from the tip of it like a geyser with a force that filled Janet’s throat as well as her mouth in a continuous stream. The blonde’s smooth, warm cream was the thickest sort she had, viscous like honey and heavy when it inevitably dribbled down Janet’s chin.

Grrrrgl. Grrrgl.

Amid Odette's moaning came the murmurs of her milky tits. With only one pink pump occupied—Odette didn’t suck her second pap for fear of what stimulating both her boobs at the same time might do—the free breast lobbed milk to the far corners of the ambulance, speckling the interior with slowly dripping globs of her freshly brewed sweetness. The air thickened with the smell. Passersby might’ve assumed the ambulance was an ice cream truck based on the sweet, sugary aroma emanating from the space.

What had once been an innocuous set of large-but-realistic breasts were now beanbag bazongas, alabaster lap fillers with a mind to repaint the ambulance’s interior. In so doing, her boobs would also soak the sugary fragrance of a newly opened cakery into every corner of the cabin, and all while also sparing enough milk to stuff their new favorite customer with white, hot breastmilk.

Janet, for her part, soldiered on as she was force fed milk.

Though, her difficulty had worried Odette, however briefly, at the start.

Odette’s hand at the back of her head seemed to frighten her at first. She clawed at the edge of the soft, pale breast she was forced against, in need of something to squeeze as she squirmed. Liquid built up quickly in her mouth. Odette could feel the rising tide, the sensation of milk about to back up because she was filling some limited space too quickly. Janet wasn’t swallowing. Her mouth and cheeks were stuffed to capacity leaving her without a break to breathe or relief from the pressure.

Though, right before Odette could release the pressure by freeing her friend from the very-real danger of choking on so much thick cream, the high tide she felt building against her areola ebbed. Janet’s lips widened and a powerful sucking brought even more of Odette’s areola behind Janet’s lips.

A whole mouthful of milk disappeared.

There came the sound of a long, exaggerated swallow, the sort that starts low in pitch and climbs for several seconds until it chirps in the upper registers. When it subsided, the first mouthful of cream was entirely gone and Janet puffed a cute breath from her nose as the only sign of her efforts.

“Mmmh! G-God, Janet—. . .” she swooned. It felt amazing. But what “it” was wasn’t evident until it happened a few more times.

Guuuulpt! Gulp! Gulp! Guuuulpt! Gulp!

The blonde couldn’t believe it—that after struggling to get her latched on, Janet would surprise her by managing to swallow enormous mouthfuls of Odette’s thickest breast milk with ease.

Somehow, Janet had hidden the fact that she was a milk guzzling champion.

The hidden skill came in handy right away for inhaling Odette’s unstinting flows—and probably for sucking milkshakes from narrow straws or for drinking eight ounce water bottles in one second or other equally niche and serendipitous purposes. The second and third of these mega gulps confirmed that the sudden disappearance of so many liters of milk wasn't magic or a fluke, too. If it weren’t happening to Odette’s on breasts, she wouldn’t have assumed that Janet—sweet Janet, who hadn’t wanted to bite down too hard on her areola and who had played coy when offered to breastfeed from Odette in the first place—would be able to put milk away faster than Pari herself. She’d shown no talent for competitive drinking of any sort, had the waist of a wasp, and demurely sipped any liquid served to her—from energy drinks to green tea.

Guuuulpt! Gulp! Gulp!

But she handled Odette’s generous let down with incredible competence.

Her throat bulged around the immense force of lactation, a steady stream of it still dripping down the front of the blushing pink areola she partially held on to.

But any worry or fear Odette might have had about drowning her best friend evaporated. Janet was a machine—as much of one as Odette’s beach ball breasts, for sure. After every swallow, Odette felt intense suction dragging her nipple further down Janet’s throat, stretching it as if to swallow it as well before releasing it. There were moments when Janet’s mouth would be completely empty, her neck and chest undulating around an enormous stretch of cream as she packed it away. She could swallow faster than Odette could put out, which may have been a partial adaptation on the part of Odette’s udders, but was almost certainly on account of the opening of the bottomless pit that Janet had kept hidden from everyone.

How long had she hidden her ability to drink so much milk so quickly?

How long could she keep it up?

What would her tummy look like when she was done?

Gulp! Gulp! Guuuulpt! Gulp!

“M-Milk me all the way, Janet,” said Odette as encouragement. “Take all you want. I-I’m this big because of y-you—. . . Oh my God! Mmmh!”

Glorblblbl! Grrrrgl. Grrrgl.

Odette entrusted her tsunami of breast milk to Janet, slowly getting lost in the sensations. Her cream was drawn from her depths faster than she could create it, her pale skin becoming more pliant over time, her veins less conspicuous. She was losing volume. Shrinking—and at a rate she had never seen before. All the while, Janet’s powerful swallowing was music to her ears. It couldn’t be explained how satisfied she felt to see and feel someone so lost in drinking her breast milk, the appreciation of having something so much a part of her identity being validated and catered to.

And besides the satisfaction of having a friend that could so thoroughly pleasure her needy breasts in such a way was the purely superficial reality of having a friend—who was hot—doing a hot thing—draining Odette’s fluffy, milk-producing mammaries—in a hot way.

Janet’s round, heart-shaped butt loomed in Odette’s periphery, swaying back and forth while Janet stuck out her neck and forced Odette’s softening flesh further into her face. Meanwhile, Janet’s swirling dark mysteries winked innocently up at the blonde from time to time, infectiously surprised by her own abilities, amused and aroused by the revelation of her skills. From above, those expressive eyes looked bigger and her figure was exaggerated further, selling the girlish illusion of her face in the foreground while the buxom seduction of voluptuous curves prowled like a third party, waiting for its turn.

Janet was amazing. Odette knew she wasn’t doing a great job of being composed or coy. She was aroused by her own body having its needs met, but also excited to find Janet acting so much in her element. In a way, the blonde felt she’d partnered with Janet in uncovering this hidden gift. She’d given her friend something to be confident about.

And with every liter of milk that disappeared forever behind Janet’s full lips, that confidence was bolstered.

When Odette’s right breast returned to a “regular” shape—so, less so balloons than teardrops, and still a good deal larger than her head—she lost herself in the bliss. Her eyes rolled back. She surrendered, happily overpowered by Janet’s newfound strength and toppled onto her back by it.

Stars filled her vision and she moaned a long, sighing release, taking out her deluge of affection by hugging Janet’s head all the tighter.

She spent an eternity in the clouds, seeing distant flashing lights despite her eyes being squeezed shut.

Best. Booby climax. Ever.

Pleasant weight crushed her lopsided pillows from above and something lovely nestled itself between her legs, pinning her to the spot where  her climax had strewn her. She took a while to come out on the other side of the transformative experience of a pleasure peak inside Janet’s mouth. While still below the surface, she heard the low, murking gurgles of her relaxed milk production, the timpani roll of her heart, and those same swallows, low and powerful. While riding so high, she had the impression that nothing she did could make her any more physically satisfied than she already was. . . which gave her an idea.

She used the opportune moment to grope around with her hands. She found smooth skin, wet fabric, fibrous hair, and a warm body.

Janet. . .

And given what must’ve been a minute of graceless fumbling with her eyes closed, she eventually navigated down Janet’s body.

At once, she felt the change in shape. Janet’s stomach bulged prominently, even as she laid on top of Odette, drinking milk from Odette’s left breast—she must’ve switched while Odette was in a dreamlike state. The powerful suckling had taken its toll on Janet’s figure, though again, just as it had with Pari, Odette took pride in having enough breast milk to fill two of her friends to satisfaction.

She was so pleased at how much milk she’d managed to produce for her two best friends that she immediately went about rewarding herself for her hyperlactation by walking her hands down Janet’s waist, finding her hips, and climbing her hands atop the softest, plushiest mounds Odette had ever felt.

There was so much. The softness ran over her hands. She had only been able to imagine what feeling her friend’s bottom would be like and nothing in her fantasies had been quite like what she felt. Booty had shape, but it also had softness. It was firm and yet smooth—made even better by Janet’s leggings. It was bouncy to the point of elastic without losing its form.

They’re like boobs, but they’re different. You never have to worry about milking them, for one. But there’s even more to it. . .

“They’re even bigger than. . . my breasts,” Odette mumbled, groggy.

Odette continued to examine Janet’s colossal bottom at her leisure until curiosity made her exploration too bold. At a cautious swat of her palm, Janet jerked up and away from where it had been laying on top of Odette’s

“Mmmh! Wh-What?! I—eep!”

Odette felt a violent pop! and was pulled up from the floor of the ambulance just as Janet rolled away. Janet’s expression wasn’t nearly as composed as it had been when she was chugging hundreds of calories straight from Odette’s breasts. It was cute how quickly she flipped her switch, going from an unknowing tiddy milk monster to her old, bumbling, blushing self.

“Everything okay?” Odette asked, though she was giggling the whole time.

“Y-You. You—. . .”

“Hmm?”

“You t-touched me. And then you said my but is bigger than your boobs?”

“I said that?”

“You did. You were sleepy, but you did!”

“Well. . . It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Mh! Aww. . .” whined Janet, pouting her lips. Her pout was exaggerated, lips swollen from sucking and glimmering with the moisture of leftover milk. “W-Well it was very inappropriate.”

Odette rolled to her left side to sit up. Janet crawled out of the way, letting the blonde up as she sat up herself.

Odette moved way, way faster than her friend for reasons she noticed when she crossed her legs and closed her fingers loosely around her ankles.

Her breasts were much smaller. They still looked like titty torpedos, plump with milk and dangerous if given the opportunity to be. Their veins were less prominent but still visible, and milk occasionally cascaded from the risen bump of her nipples. They were far from their pristine or tidy, too. Drying milk was sticky along her skin and her areola were splotchy with bruises and teeth marks. Those marks probably wouldn't go away for a day or so, and Odette knew to expect rampant sensitivity for days to follow.

It would be a full week before her boobies looked “normal” again—unassuming, unscarred, and of typical sensitivity.

But that didn’t matter much to the blonde.

After Janet’s voracious withdrawal of breast milk, Odette was at least back to a size she didn’t need to worry would erupt in the middle of a grocery store. She was approximately the size she’d been earlier that morning—L cup, probably, with the left being a little larger than the right. They were still too large for comfort when she factored in how much milk she seemed to be making today.

But she was manageable. There was a notable stillness in her bosom, like they’d been humbled. Ten or so more minutes on each breast and Odette probably wouldn’t have had any milk at all to speak of. That fact soothed her anxiety, and the less riled up she was as a whole, the less she usually had to worry about her boobs.

She would have asked Janet to finish her off for good measure, but Janet didn’t look like she could stomach one more drop of milk.

“Oop! Mmmh,” sounded Janet, slumping her back against the side of the ambulance.

Her hand went instinctively to her midsection, her breathing heavy but satisfied. Her neck glistened, the evidence of her labor making her skin glossy. Her sweater dress had taken on the roll of a bath towel, darkening from the amount of sweat and milk it had been forced to absorb.

The girl was spent.

And the reason for the rapid malaise she seemed to be feeling was jutting out from her like she’d swallowed a medicine ball in a single go.

Janet’s belly projected out and slunk down, pushing her thighs apart to make room for it. Since her build was smaller than Pari’s, her tummy looked even larger on her, a greater encumbrance on her delicate figure. Compared to the lithe, slender middle that Janet had sported before, her pregnant-looking paunch made for a marked difference, even if it was comparatively less than what Pari had packed away.

She could drink much faster, but her ardent milk guzzling ended quickly because her tummy was smaller.

Odette compared her friends to characters in ForeverAge 2:

Pari the steady, consistent DPS.

Janet the one to clutch out the victory with a big, burst damage. . . only to be completely spent afterward.

The analogy made her boobies the dungeon’s boss monsters—a two-headed giant that regenerated if it wasn’t defeated swiftly. And seeing that it had defeated the two-person party that had come to defeat it, the booby behemoths would certainly return to full strength—probably in four to six hours—and execute a reckoning on those foolish enough to face them in the first place.

“Hehe. Cool,” Odette muttered.

“What’s cool?” Janet asked. Her voice was notably lower in pitch, thickened by milk that was definitely still thickening her vocal chords. She stroked her tummy as she spoke, and when her eyes weren’t closed from exhaustion, she gazed down at her body with a subtle grin. “Did I miss something?”

“Nothing. I’m daydreaming,” Odette replied. Her attention fell back on the ambulance, on the situation, and on her friend, clarity arriving later than was convenient. “Oh, umm. I guess I should say I’m sorry.”

“You’re. . . Sorry?”

“Yes.”

“For what?” asked Janet.

Did she already forget? “For touching your butt? For saying it was bigger than my boobs? I’m not sure what it was I said that was offensive exactly, but I didn’t mean to. . .”

Her words gave Janet clarity as well. The Japanese woman sat up a little straighter at the mention of it. “Right! You, uh, you did do those things.” She paused to think. “I-I guess it’s okay. It’s only natural, I guess, since I spent a lot of time touching your boobs just now. I feel a lot closer to you after getting to drink that much milk, and I bet you were feeling the same way. So, I-I—. . .” Janet’s sentence was broken up.

Her cheeks puffed and she rushed a fist in front of her lips before letting free what had probably been building since she came loose from suckling Odette’s teat.

BUUUURP!

“God, Janet!” Odette shouted. “What’s gotten into you!”

“Hmph!” Janet pouted. “I-It’s y-your fault! I’m full of your milk. A-And, um, excuse me?”

“I should take responsibility then. You can lay in my lap and I’ll pat your back if you’re feeling—. . .”

“. . . You’ll just touch my butt again.”

“I. . .” Odette pondered, thumbing her chin. “I would. You’re right. But I almost never get to touch it without instantly inflating four cup sizes. I touched it earlier because of what you said: I felt closer to you, and I knew I could trust you to take care of the milk I made if I got really big from touching you.”

“Oh. . .” replied Janet. Her widened eyes shrank, her chin sinking. Her breasts rose and fell in her soggy shirt, two balloonish spheres resting atop the attractively taut swell of her tummy. “Well, maybe you can touch it some more, since you only do it because you trust me.”

Odette’s jaw dropped. She rolled forward and crawled on her hands and knees until she was right in front of Janet. Janet tried to retreat, but her body was too bloated to move. Her head craned back, bumping the wall of the ambulance with a bit of force.

Janet hissed. “Ouch. . .”

“You mean I could have been touching your butt this whole time? All I had to do was tell you I trusted you?”

“Well. . . Sure? You’re my. . . Mmm. My closest friend.”

“I’ve been THIS CLOSE the whole TIME?! I thought you’d act weird about it.”

“The only one acting weird right now is you, Odette, hehe.”

“I’m not acting weird.”

“Then why are you so close to me all of a sudden?”

“Because I like you and you’re wrong and I’m having fun.” Odette nodded. “This is fun. This was how this whole day was supposed to be.”

“Don’t worry. I think it’s looking up,” Janet replied, small, sweet. “I like it when you say you like me. . .”

Odette grumbled. “You can’t be all genuine like that when I’m mad at you for calling me weird!”

“Well I’m mad that you’d call my butt big. It’s n-not big. I eat really, really healthy to keep it small.”

“I have no doubt you eat healthy. . .”

“But?”

“But it’s huge Janet—how did you not know?!”

“Now you’re just being mean.”

“I like that it’s super-sized.”

“Stop it! You went from calling it ‘huge’ to ‘supersized’!”

She was already so close to Janet that when their bickering turned to laughter, Odette tumbled on top of her friend and held her, making a pile with their bodies and losing their sense of separation in the embrace.

Odette scolded Janet with whispers—about her ignorance of her robustly buttressed backside, and her ignorance of her throaty superpowers. Janet cooed and mewled her pleas to ignorance—she hadn’t known she could swallow anything so quickly and didn’t want to believe that her butt was so conspicuously large.

“You know how you don’t like thinking about like-like stuff?” spoke Janet, into the cocoon created by the women’s closely nestled bodies. “My body shape is like that.”

“You don’t like to think about it?”

“Not at all. But sometimes I have to think about it—like when I remember that I haven’t worn anything besides leggings in months because nothing will fit me, or how diets seem to do nothing about it.”

“It sounds like bra shopping. . .” Odette groaned.

“It’s worse. At least I have you as a resource to shop for bras that fit us. . . I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump my problems on you like that.”

Odette hugged Janet, capturing Janet’s right thigh between her own, smooshing her bare breasts against the wall that Janet’s tummy had become. “We’ve both got to do something.”

“We do.”

“Let’s start by drying off. It’s starting to get cold in here.”

“Agreed, hehe.”

With a lack of new, warm breast milk, the soggy towels used to absorb as much cream as possible were indeed becoming frigid. If the two didn’t get dry and warm quickly, they would both be as sick as Pari had been that morning.

Pari. . .

“Pari?” Odette said. She stood, stretched, and turned to where Pari lay.

Pari was curled into a ball, her own milk-stuffed tummy a perfect pillow around which to wrap her limbs. Despite the discomfort of being in a cold, metallic room, she looked entirely at peace. It was probably the most peaceful sleep Pari had gotten since she’d first started feeling sick.

“I don’t even wanna wake her up,” Odette smiled.

“She’d want to be woken up,” Janet replied.

“You’re right as always. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You. . . c-can’t be that genuine when I’m trying not to fall for you. . .” said Janet, witty despite how earnest the two had just finished being.

“Uh. . . Pari? Pari, wake up! You said you’d be here to intervene when we need it and Janet is making me feel funny.”

“You said we needed to do something, Odette. You could start addressing the like-like with me if you want, hehe.”

“Pari! Janet’s being weird! Wake. UP!”

Janet made an amused noise as Odette sank to her knees, violently shaking Pari awake.

* *

“You really don’t have to force anything. The ambulance does much of the work itself.”

“But what if it starts doing donuts in the parking lot or something.”

“Cute joke. Can you see over the wheel?”

She hadn’t been able to, but one of the milking tubs made for a great seat. When Odette looked out past her clenched fists, she saw the large, white hood of the ambulance and a stretch of black asphalt in front of her. There was a dizzying sense of height when it came to sitting behind the wheel of an ambulance. It made her feel powerful.

Not powerful in the sense that she could do anything, but powerful in the sense that she could, well, do. . . anything.

“What if I hit someone?” Odette asked. She retracted her hands from the wheel and folded them in her lap, bunching up the sleeves of the hoodie she was wearing.

As it turned out, Pari had considered everything—including some large, tent-like article of clothing to cover Odette after she’d been milked to an acceptable size. It did its job well, disguising Odette’s shape. It would need to be washed since the blonde was still covered in sweat and dried breast milk, but it smelled like home and Pari and easily wrapped around her knees.

It was a small comfort, especially compared with the largeness of the task before her.

Pari sat in the passenger seat, leaning almost entirely onto Odette’s side of the driving cabin. She was careful around a number of white buttons in a module in the center console, glancing all around at the mirrors and levers nearby like they might suddenly come to life.

“You won’t hit anyone,” said Pari, finally, not even looking at Odette as she said so. “We’re not leaving the parking lot.”

“But what if I do hit someone. Or what if I run into the building? Or what if I drive the ambulance into the ditch on the other side of the parking lot?”

Pari deadpanned. “As a first time offender, you’ll. . . probably have to pay a fine for operating a vehicle without a license and to repair whatever damages you cause. And I’ll probably lose my license to practice medicine. Oh, and if your father finds out I’m letting his daughter drive an ambulance without a license, he’ll fire me and we’ll never be allowed to see each other again.”

“I’m. Not. Doing. This. WHY ARE WE DOING THIS?!” Odette belted, panicked. Her heart rammed against her chest, wanting to get out almost as badly as she wanted to get out of the driver’s seat of the ambulance.

She could hardly stand the idea of being embarrassed like that—having to apologize to some innocent driver for barrelling an ambulance into their car, of having to explain what she was doing in the first place and having no good answer, of the call that she’d have to make to her family to explain why she now had a criminal record.

“Feral” was a good word for what she was feeling. It hit it right on the head.

She began to wheeze, breathing becoming difficult for her. She lost herself in the dark, glossy emblem in the middle of the wheel, fixated on its smoothness as her mind raced, finding no comfort in it.

Pari placed a hand on her shoulder. It did almost nothing.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay.”

“This is so wrong. This is so wrong.”

“Calm down.”

“Why am I the one telling you that we shouldn’t be doing this?”

“. . .”

“Why are you making me do this?”

“You need it. It’s good for you.”

“How is breaking a law good for me? How is driving without any training—. . .”

“This isn’t driving, exactly. We’re going to start it, pull out, move forward and back a little in this empty parking lot, and we’re going to park together.”

Odette trembled. Her stomach felt like it was in her chest, taking up the space her lungs needed to fully expand. She wanted to throw up.

“I want to throw up,” she said.

“Is your foot on the break?” Pari wrapped her fingers around the head of a big black key. “You’ll use your right foot for both the accelerator and the break, so you have to be able to reach both.”

“The break’s on the left?”

“Yes.”

“Pari, you must still be sick. I’m calling 911.”

“I’ve let you put off learning how to drive long enough. It’s an important part of growing up and being responsible—. . .”

“I don’t wanna be mature anymore. I promise I’ll stay at home and milk myself thrice a day and never, ever talk back to you again.”

Pari grinned, though there was a ferocity to it. “You should’ve thought about that before you let your friends drive around in my car.”

“Sorry. It was a food emergency.”

“I know. You told me earlier. And to prevent future food emergencies—and random children driving my car with your permission—we’re going to work on getting your license. And we’re starting today.”

“I can’t—. . .”

“You can, sweetheart. Promise.”

“I’m going to mess up—. . .”

“You might, but stop beating yourself up over it. Give yourself a break, Odette. Try. Just try. I’ll be here to help.”

Pari squeezed Odette’s shoulder, her annoyance allaying into encouragement. Odette gulped, her nerves less frayed but still present. “You promise not to fall asleep like the last time you said you’d ‘be here to help’?”

Pari slapped her belly, a huge, caramel globe resting in her lap. “I just had to sleep off the first bit. I’m fine now. I’ve gotcha.”

“Okay. . .”

“I’m going to start the ambulance now. Hands on the wheel, ball of your foot on the wide pedal. It’ll be rumbly and loud, but it’s okay, okay?”

“. . .”

“Okay?”

It wasn’t. . . She felt it wasn’t. Fear had her in its mits—bigger than anything. She couldn’t see a thing on her left or right, vision narrowed to the emblem on the wheel.

But Odette moved her hands to the steering wheel. She put her foot on the brake.

“You’re being so brave right now,” Pari said, squeezing Odette’s shoulder. At the same time, she squeezed the key in the ignition. “Let’s do this thing.”

“. . . Let’s.”