Pumping the Breaks

Chapter 4

Odette attempted to scoop the flesh of her milk-filled breasts away from the car horn.

She had tumbled into the car as a result of Amanda’s prodding, despite her great hesitations. The result was the most awkward plunge into Pari’s car imaginable:

Her right arm was caught beneath her. Her right shoulder was cocked into a shrug against her ear. Her left arm was free, but she’d used it to brace against the space above the door opening, startled by the blaring horn—the horn that was going off because of her swollen breasts.

The pair of milky melons were like overstuffed throw pillows: aesthetically pleasing, but an obstacle to those wanting to sit comfortably. They’d thrown Odette for a loop, as it took her a minute—a full sixty seconds—to find a way to rearrange her feminine heft so that they weren’t actively attempting to suffocate her. While she dealt with them, she could still feel the impressive amount of milk in each. They took on the quality of water balloons, moving unpredictably with each of the blonde’s shoves or commands.

“Mmph! Mmh, c’mon!” she groaned,

It was the weight of them. She didn’t have the strength to do much more than insist that her flesh slide past the various plastic and faux leather components. With each move, as if with elastic, they would stretch and rebound, comically repugnant. Dealing with it would have frustrated some people. Watching it concerned Amanda and Janet, whose winces and ear clutching was laced with half moves toward the titty-pinned blonde, ready to lend a hand.

But Odette didn’t mind it—the way her boobs were so bratty. It was a point of charm now, after years of dealing with rampant lactation and the constant changes to size and texture brought on by a mystery medical condition. Her creamy mammaries were a monkey wrench in a normal life, but pawing at her fussy curves was still a pleasant experience because Odette had long since stopped wishing for a “normal” life.

It certainly hadn’t been normal today, what with Pari being sick, Amanda learning about Odette and Janet’s lactation, and the like-like thing with Theo.

Ugh. The like-like. Romance. . .

She had found fun in every other abnormal aspect of her day except for the like-like stuff.

Eventually, after throwing a minor fit, Odette’s pillows came to rest with the wheel centered between them. Her flesh stuffed the entirety of the space in front of her. Her thighs were wrapped in a layer of dark tights, then in a denser layer of breast, which dominated her lap and kissed the bottom third of the steering wheel in front of her.

The struggle was over.

The rush of adrenaline had Odette’s heart thrumming long after the silence that followed the horn—if the lingering ring in everyone’s ears could be considered “silence”.

“Phew,” she sighed, and feeling fatigued from her struggle, she decided to do nothing but sit with the peace she’d negotiated after a rousing pillow war—because pillow “fight” just didn’t cut it.

At once, the experience of sitting in the driver’s seat flowed in around her, detail by detail:

The center console was on her right, and the seatbelt was on her left. There were innumerable gadgets, buttons, and levers staring back at her that weren’t in the passenger seat. Worse was the light claustrophobia that the technology caused by being so much taller than her, obscuring her view out the front windshield.

It felt so, so different.

Her boobies churned. Their beachball size all shifted at once as her milk production gave a bump, stretching her skin all the tauter. She winced. Even with such a uniformly thin top, she could feel the resistance of her clothing to her changing shape, the same taxed material having to accommodate a still-increasing size. Cup sizes were inadequate at describing her size.

Using flat palms, she went over her breasts a few times to soothe their grumpiness. They gurgled stubbornly.

“There, see?” Amanda appeared in the open door, her arm on the roof, head dipping to appraise the interior of Pari’s car. She heaved a sigh at what she’d just had to witness but showed no other sign of being frazzled. “There was nothing to be afraid of. You did fine. Ready for the next lesson—. . .”

“Nope!” Odette said. “I’m ready to come out. There’s not really enough room in here for me.”

“Yea, your boobs are pretty well packed in there, aren’t they? Hmm,” Amanda said, taking their mention as permission to look them over. She perused Odette’s sizable, doughy mounds, then glanced at the seating arrangement in general. “You can’t see over the wheel either, can you?”

“Nah, it’s too high.”

“Pari must sit very low, then. The seat’s as low as a racecar. . .”

Odette shook her head, then felt along the sides of the seat until she found the seat adjusting lever. When she pulled it upward, the motor in the seat whirred to life—though it was a choking, grinding sort of life. The amount of weight in the seat and the resistance from Odette’s chest pressing into the rest of the car caused the seat to slowly fight for every additional inch of height.

While her boobies continued to submerge the steering wheel, Odette responded. “I don’t remember Pari sitting low in her seat. She always sits really high in her chair, actually, since she’s so big on safety; checking her mirrors and keeping the music low so she can hear traffic. Sitting low in a seat is, like, the last thing Pari would ever do. Too impractical and unsafe.”

“Speaking of which, I was wondering why you weren’t afraid to be a passenger but were afraid to get behind the wheel,” Amanda posited. “I guess it’s because of what you said: Pari tries to be safe.”

“I’m on edge about both,” Odette clarified. “But I wouldn’t dare sit in the passenger seat if Pari wasn’t driving. At least she tries to do all the things she’s supposed to do.”

“And how do you know what a driver is supposed to do?”

“I’ve read the driver’s handbook.”

Amanda’s eyes went buggy. “You’ve read the driver’s handbook but you won’t get your license?! Odette!”

Odette furrowed her brow. “You have to know your enemy, Amanda!”

“Odette!”

“Amanda!”

“You’re such a. . . goober.”

“A ‘Goober’?”

Amanda waved off the strange nickname—even though it was her that had used it in the first place. “Well, then how do we explain how low the seat is?”

Odette pondered, forced back against the headrest by her encroaching gazongas but calmer after bickering amiably with Amanda. She offered the first hypothesis to come to mind. “She’s. . . got a big butt, right? Maybe that’s it.”

“Hmm,” Amanda emoted.

“You haven’t noticed?”

“How couldn’t I notice? It’s always right there.”

“You think it’s. . .”

“No! No, it’s fine. It’s kinda like your boobs: they stand out even if you aren’t exactly into them. Like, I’m pretty straight but I still stare since she’s just. . . much bigger than the norm.”

Odette felt relief. “Abnormal” was like home to her. “Well, good.”

“And she doesn’t parade around like her ass size should matter to others, which is good, because it matters quite a bit.”

“Like with how much higher she sits in the driver’s seat?” Odette smirked.

“Well. . . I just thought it would spread out when she sat rather than prop her up, you know.”

“Is that what butts do?”

Amanda shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t have much of one.”

Odette giggled, beaming as she thought about Amanda’s soft curves. She crossed her arms over her colossal breasts and tilted her head. “You’ve got plenty. More than me, for sure.”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Oh, hush. I said I’m straight, Odette, and no amount of flirting would change that. . . for too long.”

“Uhh,” Odette began. “I’m not flirting. I just thought you’d be curvy enough to notice a difference.”

“Oh, please,” Amanda began. She looked as if she were about to launch into sermon until she met Odette’s eyes again.

Odette bore a question on her face, not sure what she’d done to provoke such animation in Amanda.

Amanda retreated from the car and turned. Janet stood behind her, watching silently, purposefully removed.

“Janet, did you see what Odette did?” asked Amanda.

“What did I do?” asked Odette.

Janet shook her head. “I-I didn’t see anything.”

Amanda might have believed the Japanese woman had they been strangers, but Janet’s shuffling of her feet and fidgeting of her fingers gave away what she was too polite to say otherwise. Amanda marched on, one hand on her hip.

“So you didn’t see Odette perch on top of her boobs, or make her eyes all big and glowy, or smirk the way she did?”

Janet looked Odette up and down before turning toward the garage door. “I-I may have seen that.”

“Hey! Why does it sound like I’m being accused of something?!” Odette yapped. She lightly thumped her clenched fists into the flesh in front of her. However, doing so just once was enough to accidentally press a button on the center console of the car that made every light on the car blink on and off. “Uh, what?”

“Those are the caution lights. I thought you read the driver’s handbook.”

“It was mostly the road safety portions. Umm, let’s see.” Odette fussed about for several seconds, pushing her titties out of the way so she could try to locate a button that looked cautionary. Finding none, she let her titty back into place and gave it a few solid knocks with her clenched fist again, just as she’d done to create the problem. The lights stopped blinking after just four knocks. “Now, why am I being interrogated? Is this karma for what I did to Janet?”

“What did you do to Janet?”

Janet, flushed pink from remembrance, began to walk away from the two toward a stack of large, plastic boxes that were stacked up in the corner of the garage.

“Janet! Wait! So you saw Odette flirting, right?” Amanda yelped.

“Y-Yea, a little!” Janet whimpered back.

“I wasn’t flirting,” Odette argued. “Smiling and touching my boobs isn’t flirting. I do that all the time.”

“Then what is flirting, Odette?”

“It’s, uh, when you like someone, right? Or, uh, have a crush,” Odette floundered. She pushed her blonde hair away from her face. “And you, like, show them you like them.”

Amanda pressed. “And how do you show someone you like them?”

“Presents and stuff, usually.” Seeing that Amanda was already unsatisfied by this answer, Odette grumbled and rolled her eyes. “What does any of this have to do with butts and cars?”

“More than you’d think. . .” Amanda leaned back into the car, so close that Odette could smell her as well as she could see her. “So, you don’t think you were coming on to me at all just then?”

The suddenness with which Amanda’s tone dropped made Odette feel a sudden incompetence, like she’d dropped crumbs of what she was eating on herself and someone else had pointed it out to her. She was embarrassed by the way she was being addressed, even if she didn’t know the reason for the addressing.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Odette replied, a touch less adamant than before.

“It doesn’t have to be on purpose though, Odette.”

“Of course it does.” Amanda gave a look, then. It made Odette feel sour, a sort of pity that the blonde didn’t expect to ever see from a friend. She felt the urge to make her point even clearer. “Like, it shouldn’t be someone else’s decision whether or not I was flirty.”

“And nobody decides to feel flirted with, Odette. They just feel it. Something happens, and they feel it—even if they’re wrong.”

“That’s wrong.”

“That’s not the point.”

A boulder of silence slid like an iceberg of molasses through the garage.

“I didn’t mean to get into that,” Amanda spoke.

Odette shrugged. “Me neither.”

“You mad at me?”

“I’m mad at like-like,” Odette grumbled. “And I’m not the happiest being stuck in a car. I’m happy we got to talk about that stuff, though. I never get to. Just. . .”

“I’ll drop it. Goobers can only handle so much.”

Odette scrunched her face. “What kind of insult is ‘goober’.”

Amanda reached in and messed with Odette’s hair as if she were decades older instead of just a few years. “It’s not an insult. It’s a term of endearment. And holy crap, you really can’t see anything, can you? That chair is really low.”

“Is it finally time to talk about booty?”

Amanda and Odette broke, both giggling.

There was another lengthy silence, though far warmer than the one before.

Odette broke it by trying to raise the seat even higher once again. The automatic engine whirred effortfully.

“Okay, so I’ve got an ass,”Amanda admitted. “but it’s nothing like Pari’s. The only person with a booty that’s even comparable would be. . .” Amanda trailed as she backed out of the car. She and Odette eyed Janet who was roaming around the garage, faced away from the car, her uncharacteristically enormous rear end unknowingly on display. “Janet. Settle this for us. When you sit, does your booty spread out or does it act like a booster seat to prop you up?”

“Wh-What?” replied Janet.

Odette smiled. “It’s for science.”

The driver’s seat’s motor slowed like its battery was dying. It came to a stop before anyone could concern themselves with the buzzing motor, but Odette noticed the noise anyway because it accompanied the sensation of her boobs being way, way more crammed into the shrunken space of the car. On both sides of the steering wheel and squishing into the gear shift was a vast set of gently swollen hills, full of enough milk to utterly ruin any of the advanced, electronic components that were now part of cars. She was happy that the car was off for fear of completely rearranging the presets on Pari’s radio with the flank of her right titty.

But overall, sitting in the car wasn’t as terrible after a minute or so of panic. While it did feel cramped, something about having her boobies pressing up and backward into her made her feel secure. She wasn’t completely done feeling anxious, but big, soft, snuggly titties did make anxiety easier to deal with.

And the steering wheel was even more submerged now that her knockers were raised up by the rising seat. The wheel looked much more like a controller for a game now, which disarmed its intimidation considerably.

As Amanda and Janet went back and forth about the size of Janet’s ass, the busty blonde slowly moved her hand toward the wheel.

She gripped it in her hand. She squeaked at the sensation. She waited for death, but when it didn’t come, she released the breath she was holding.

By whatever power—the peace of a large pair of boobies, the company of friends, or the conversation about Janet’s curves—Odette had taken a step on her own.

Amanda turned back when she heard Odette’s squeak. Her face lit up. “Hey! Good job, love! You’re braver than you give yourself credit for.”

“Now I. . . am become death,” Odette said, fearfully chuckling. “The destroyer of worlds.”

“I don’t think you can ‘become death’ if you can’t even reach the gas pedal,” replied Amanda.

Odette kicked her legs out and confirmed that she could merely bump the pedal with the tip of her toe.

No world destruction just yet. The highways could rest easy, for the moment.

After a bit of a pause, Odette released the wheel and spoke with an even cadence. “I’m ready to come out now. Was this enough?”

Janet and Amanda both nodded in agreement. After they let the seat down again, the two helped to extract the smaller blonde from the car. Once free, she received a number of pets and hugs that almost made the experience of accidentally setting off the horn, getting stuck in the first place, arguing with Amanda, and gripping the wheel of Pari’s car net positively as far as trauma to reward. Almost. There was little else for the three to do afterward but signal Theo to join them in the garage. Amanda did just that with a quick text message.

“So, uh, Janet would sit lower in the seat, right?” asked Amanda. “Like, her booty would spread out. It just has to. It’s like when you lay down and your boobs go flat, right?”

“My boobs don’t really go flat,” Odette noted. “And I think butts are the same way.”

“But yours are full of milk. It’s different.”

“Well, Janet’s butt is full of, uh, something? Look, it’s like when you sit on a seat cushion. You sit taller, right?”

“I’ve never needed a seat cushion,” Amanda shrugged.

“Way to rub it in,” Odette fired back. “But Janet’s butt is like a cushion. It pushes her up. Same with Pari, I bet.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t usually pay attention to Pari’s butt when she’s driving.”

“Fair point, but also very convenient for a booty spread denier.” Before Odette could reply, Amanda continued. “Look, fat spreads out. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“It definitely isn’t.”

Odette and Amanda gestured lewdly at the air, drawing out diagrams of curves and three-dimensional shapes to illustrate their points. Meanwhile, Janet blushed all the redder at the mention. She kept chirping particles of sentences before trailing off—“Umm”s and “Maybe we could”s dripping from her pouty lips. Eventually, she got out the whole of what she’d been meaning to say.

“C-Couldn’t I just sit in the chair and see?”

When she said this, Odette and Amanda fell silent.

Odette looked Janet up and down with stark realization. She said nothing, but watched Janet pouting, eyes large and vulnerable, stance shy but somehow, also, determined. The blonde couldn’t help but smile devilishly.

“Let’s settle it,” Odette offered. “And if I’m right, then I don’t ever have to learn how to drive.” She roped her thin arm in Janet’s and began walking her toward the open car door.

Amanda did the same, ushering Janet even faster. “And if I win, you have to sit in the passenger seat while Theo drives.”

“What!?”

“You’ll learn to trust the car and to trust Theo. It really is a win-win for you.”

Odette couldn’t measure which sounded worse: having to have a second driving lesson or having to sit beside Theo while he drove and endure the awkward silence that would inevitably descend. Even if there was a correct answer, however, there was no time to calculate. She felt Janet slip away from her arm and tumble into the car seat just as she had mere minutes prior. Odette cried out as her friend's fingers flicked hers but withdrew immediately when she couldn’t stop the results from the impromptu wager from being revealed.

Janet slowly rolled up and into the seat, needing to readjust from the suddenness from which Amanda had slung her into the vehicle. As soon as she was composed, however, both Amanda and Odette could see who had gotten the right answer.

Janet thrust her hands into her lap, nestling them between her thighs. It was hard for Odette to tell why Janet was slouched instead of assuming her perfect posture, but even with her upper body tilted toward the wheel, one couldn’t unsee the broad curve of Janet’s butt propelling her high into the seat. From a profile perspective, there was a perfect cross section of her thigh in her black leggings as well as a solid slab of rear end that pushed her a solid half foot into the air.

That wasn’t to say that Amanda was entirely wrong, however. Much of Janet’s lower body spilled out over the sides of the seat, a delicate bulge that began at her hip and rolled down and around the seat cushion below.

But in the case of Janet’s seated booty, the dominating element was verticality.

Odette was struck, eyes wide. Janet looked just like Pari would look in the seat, almost like she belonged there. It was hard to describe, but the missing piece that Janet filled somehow went beyond her ass being comparable to Pari’s.

Or, perhaps Janet fit into that emotional space because Janet’s ass was very comparable to Pari’s.

Janet’s butt was. . . very flattering.

Odette’s face heated up so fast and hot that her ears tingled from the blood flow. She could feel her mind going blank from the heat. When she looked at Janet, she found it hard to remember to breathe.

Amanda laid a hand on her shoulder. It felt both heavy as an anvil and gentle as a breeze. “I guess you’ve escaped the driving lessons—and the whole front seat with it. Good job, gambling girl. Uh, Odette? You good?”

Odette’s arms wrapped around her front, suddenly feeling that she needed something—anything—against her boobs.

“I-I should probably try to milk myself again. I don’t think I’m going to make it.”

“What?” said Amanda, then found the answer in Odette’s needy grasping of her own flesh. “What prompted this?”

Odette didn’t know why, but she glanced back at Janet, her eyes trailing lower and lower and. . .

Janet whimpered and shifted in the car seat again. Perhaps she could feel Odette’s amber eyes burning a hole in her thin, black leggings.

“Alright! We’re getting out of here. Bathroom. Now,” barked Amanda.

Odette turned away from the car and began sprinting toward the stairs that led back up into the house from the garage. Amanda followed, but opened the distance between herself and the about-to-be-milked blonde by turning back and slamming the door on Janet just as she was about to climb out of the seat. None of the Japanese woman’s limbs were in the way, but her forehead bonked the window comically, prompting a muffled “Eeep!” as Amanda and Odette went to the staircase.

“Sorry, Janet,” Amanda called out. “Your ass is too fat. It’ll make things worse.”

She was just finishing her sentence as Odette spared a hand to open the door.

Odette could feel herself about to let down and willed whatever strange hormones had overtaken her at the emphasized profile shot of her best friend’s booty to back away from the cliff they were about to take a dive off of.

She wouldn’t even have to be worried about letting down in thirty seconds. She just needed to make it to the nearest bathroom.

Except, as she flung open the door and barged inside and to the left, she ran smack into a shelf she didn’t remember putting in the hallway. Her boobs hit it first, though rather than move the furniture out of the way, they depressed into it, squishing against it so that they rode up all the higher against her and the obstacle in her path. The senses in her boobies were the fastest senses in her body—to her detriment. They informed her that rubbing up against something solid felt good, and that being pressed up against something warm felt good, and that snuggling ought to be the next “good” objective to be reached to take advantage of such a moment of serendipity.

Just when her tits needed squeezing the most, there manifested something to snuggle them with.

Then, the shelving reached out and held Odette by the shoulders. Even though it clearly desired to distance itself from Odette, her enormous set of round, milky jugs easily spanned the greater-than-a-foot-long space between them.

Then, the shelf spoke.

“Odette?! Are you okay? What’s the hurry—. . . Uh. . .”

The talking shelf that her body had craved had transformed.

In her panic, she hadn’t looked up to confirm the shelves identity, but did so now and saw Theo standing before her.

A cold sweat broke out on Odette’s back, but on her fronts, a warm tingling sensation raced over her areola causing her nipples to go erect.

No. . .