Pumping the Breaks

Chapter 9

[ Summary: Odette is saved by her best friends before she can ruminate over her failures and mistakes. After being nurtured by Pari, the rate of her breast milk production forces a methodical milking in the back of an ambulance to escalate to much more.]

Odette had crushed multiple boxes of snack cakes with her breasts.

She’d rammed her milk-filled boobs against the rear end of a perfect stranger multiple times—cake of a different sort.

But she hadn’t really felt the brunt of her embarrassment.

Having her best friends orchestrate her flight from the bulk frozen food aisle moments after having a milky meltdown? Coming so close to achieving what she’d striven for only to leave, inches from success, too close to coming for comfort with a trail of milk in her wake?

Needing to be saved by the one she’d spent the whole day trying to save?

That got to her.

As the group of four trekked toward some unknown location, Janet pulled up the rear of the entourage. Her black bangs swung low over her dark, almond-shaped eyes. Her mouth didn’t stop moving and every few aisles, Odette could make out a bit of the Japanese that Janet mumbled like a mantra. Translation wasn’t necessary, either. Without seeing her, Odette could hear the jittery dread in the thinness of Janet’s voice. Odette was helpless to console her, however, and she could only hope that Janet’s boobs weren’t also becoming uncomfortable from a sudden build-up.

The friends shared a capacity to produce extra breast milk when they were riled up.

And being escorted out of a Fresh Farmer grocery store while dripping thick, hot fluid by a group of frazzled females was the very definition of “riled up” in Odette’s mind.

Amanda cleared the path of shoppers and buggies from the front, a steady two aisles in front of the others. While dutiful in her task, Odette didn’t miss how Amanda would turn around and frown at her, her eyes squinting at the ends like she couldn’t stand to see all of what was happening behind her. After seeing Odette’s state, she would turn with force and march ahead all the faster, more direct with the rare Fresh Farmer shoppers on the back aisles. She drew more attention that way, but it didn’t seem to matter to her. She used her size—average for a woman but all gentle curves, fluffy rather than dense—to convince otherwise unreachable shoppers to stay put in their aisles until Odette and Pari could sneak past.

Pari. She wasn’t supposed to be here. . .

But she’d strung Odette’s left arm around her neck and stooped down low enough to accompany the blonde in the wake of Amanda’s clearance. The two barely managed a hobble, their height difference creating an imbalanced, three-legged race as they powered through to an unknown exit.

Odette’s tummy hurt from needing to be aided in such a way, unable to balance enough to walk on her own without assistance. It hurt worse when she looked at Pari and saw that her best friend in the world barely looked up to the task.

Pari didn’t look good. It wasn’t that she sneezed or coughed while handling almost half of Odette’s body weight—which was almost entirely in Odette’s tits at the time. But Pari’s skin looked pallid, her fuss of long, brown hair in a low, unkempt tail. She was wearing a loose tank top she usually reserved for sleeping and paired it with comfy, but revealing lounging shorts. To think that minutes ago, Pari, who had been in bed with a high temperature, had abandoned her day of rest, didn’t bother to change, got a ride to the Fresh Farmer (without her car, which was what Odette had used to get to Fresh Farmers), only to have to drag a dripping blonde through a grocery store. . .

While Odette felt safe in Pari’s arms, she couldn’t shake the reality that she had made herself the hardest kind of burden on the person who least deserved to be carrying it.

Literally.

Then, there was Theo. He was back at Pari’s car.

Even though he had been the first to find Odette, Pari and Amanda sent him away immediately afterward. Odette wished he’d miraculously had his eyes closed when he found her. A tiny piece of her—the optimist that never died—hoped that, at a distance of several meters, he wouldn’t have known what he was looking at.

But a girl with boobs so big that they rested on her thighs had a certain look to it. Once seen, it was hard to unsee. Perhaps if the women acted nonchalant and got together on a story about what happened, he could be convinced that he hadn’t accidentally—and thankfully—divulged Odette’s biggest secret. Theo was conflict-averse enough to go along with it, to use his big, big brain to come up with some explanation for how he had a memory of Odette with beanbag breasts sitting on the ground in a grocery store.

Aliens.

Magic.

A fantasy brought on by how he like-liked Odette.

But Odette could never ask her friends to lie for her—not the women to corroborate on her behalf, or Theo to lie to himself. They’d just be paying the price for Odette’s mistakes.

Again.

I messed up so bad this time. . .

The group arrived at a broad set of doors at the back corner of the Fresh Farmers. The doors faced an aisle that was larger than average and flanked on both sides by the supplement aisle—Elderberry, B Complex, Vitamins L, M, N, O, and P. Odette hadn’t seen anyone in the past few aisles and much of the noise was on the other end of the store near the deli.

“We’re going through here, Pari?” Amanda asked, hand on the door, voice low.

Pari’s breathing was labored. She made a short groan of approval followed by a nod.

Amanda pushed through and held the door open for the rest as they entered what looked like a maintenance area. The halls were lined with shelving, each one labeled with the corresponding concoction or tools atop underneath. Every couple feet was some sort of caution or hazard sign, but Odette couldn’t read what was being cautioned against as the fluorescent lights built into the high ceiling were much dimmer than those in the rest of the store.

Everything was dark. Unclear.

Everything was hard. Unyielding.

A blond-haired girl with tits that played patty-cake with her stomach as she walked didn’t belong in such a place, even if it did intrigue her.

Even if “dark” and “hard” was how she felt about her life at the moment.

The group didn’t stay put in the maintenance area for long. They passed cardboard boxes stacked from floor to ceiling on palettes, rushed to the back of the building, and arrived at a wide, empty space. The signs cautioned against a drop in the floor and, sure enough, a drop the height of Odette herself appeared before them. It was a loading dock—Odette knew that much from movies and games.

“Take Odette, would you Janet? Amanda?” asked Pari.

While Janet and Amanda helped her stand, Pari found a door on the side and caused sunlight to bleed into the dark, gray space. The brunette glanced back and forth out the door, nodded, then motioned for the trio to follow her.

They did—they had to stop to maneuver Odette’s chest through the small, industrial door as they’d gotten too wide to fit. The four burst into a small parking lot. In front of them at the opposite side of the asphalt was tall, wired fencing. Behind them was Fresh Farmers, of course. In the distance on both sides were a sparse number of parked cars, a green dumpster at the corner, and zero foot traffic.

They’d escaped to the back of the Fresh Farmer store where staff likely parked.

An ambulance was idling in the fifth spot down from the door.

“I-I’m going to the hospital?” Odette asked.

“No,” answered Pari. Odette didn’t realize such an answer would bring her such peace. “I called in a favor with a friend. This is where we’ll get to business. It’s decked out with all the stuff I might need and offers a bit of privacy, so long as nosy walkers are kept at bay.”

Amanda and Janet’s jaws dropped. The two looked at one another then back at Pari.

“You’re amazing, Miss Pari,” Janet exclaimed.

“Smart thinking,” Amanda agreed. “I had gotten a stall in the bathroom, but a lady was about to call management because I was hogging it.”

“It’s just one of those things you keep in the back of your head in case of emergency,” answered Pari.

The backdoor to the ambulance faced the wall of the Fresh Farmer. Pari went to the back doors and opened them wide. She gestured, then climbed inside, watching each of her limbs as she pushed herself up and in. Pari at her peak would have simply hopped inside with no issue. It was hard to see her having to exert so much effort to accomplish the same, simple motions.

It was also hard because she was wearing the same sleeper shorts as before; the ones she wore when nobody cared how she dressed; the comfort pair.

As Pari bent forward to climb into the ambulance, Odette got a full view of her thin, loose booty shorts. Though mostly, she saw the back of Pari’s long thighs and the rounded shape of her. . .

“Mmmn!” Odette squeaked.

Her friends both turned in, concern on both their lowered brows.

“Odette!” Janet wailed.

“Are you alright?!” Amanda said, looking Odette up and down for the insect sting that had caused such a sudden squeal.

“Uh. U-Uh. . .” Odette stammered. She felt heavier, the pressure in her breasts worsening moments after the unexpected visual stimulation. “I-I had a little bump in production, that’s all.”

“We’d better hurry,” Amanda nodded, thankfully unaware.

The two held Odette under her armpits. At the same time, Odette reached out and Pari grabbed her wrists. Pari counted to three. Odette leaped and Janet and Amanda hoisted. The four worked with one another easily, all utility, all business. Odette took cautious steps inside, only having to duck a little to fit inside the large, metal cavity. She took a seat on the right side of the ambulance at Pari’s behest on a thinly cushioned section of the vehicle meant for EMTs.

“This is my first time seeing the inside of one of these,” Amanda said. “Are they usually this big?”

Pari started to speak, but Odette’s voice cut through. “They use smaller, express ones most of the time. Those are the ones you hear the sirens of. This is a larger model. They usually park these at events and use them as tiny medical centers. Oh, and the stretcher isn’t in here, so there’s more room to walk around than usual.”

Janet was still standing at the opened back door. “H-How do you know all that?”

Odette blinked. Right. “I, uh, spent a lot of time in ambulances when I was younger. . . Which I now realize is a weird thing to say.”

Weird was putting it lightly. Odette watched as each of her friends looked down or away from her, pretending that the inside of an ambulance was some new, shiny, sparkly thing that warranted full distraction. What was left was a silence as stale and sanitary as the ER waiting room, with just as many aimless persons walking about.

God. . . Why an ambulance? Of all places. . .

It had been her peculiar breasts that were responsible for her familiarity with ambulances in the first place. Now, it was her breasts that had brought her back to those memories, dragging even more loved ones along for the scary, uneasy ride.

Odette’s eyes burned like tears were getting ready to fall at the thought.

C’mon, Odette. Don’t act so weird. . .

Then, just when the moisture in her eyes threatened to fall down to her colossal, milk-dripping breasts, Pari appeared on Odette’s right. She demonstrated exceptional understanding of the situation, ordering her actions in order of importance:

Her arms flew around Odette, swallowing her, pulling the blonde close with no hesitation or regard for space. Pari didn’t hug much. Usually a side hug, or a quick back pat. So getting a long, thorough, lasting embrace that lasted as long as Odette wanted meant the world. It took a sledgehammer to the awkward air and warmed the cold, metallic ambulance cabin. Barely a hiccup was allowed to escape and Odette turned her whole body into Pari, accepting what was hers in abundance, thankful that Pari didn’t back away even when the fronts of Odette’s milky tits drenched her from the stomach down.

Then, Pari pulled away and used one of the many towels in the ambulance to dot Odette’s face, dabbing where tears would have been had they had a chance to fall.

In the shady privacy of an ambulance, fresh from a strong, purposeful embrace, Pari’s first words dripped like a melody meant only for Odette’s ears: “Are you okay?”

There was nobody Odette wanted to hear that from more. It had only been a half day, but it felt like she'd spent an eternity without this woman beside her. “No, I’m not,” Odette answered honestly, though she managed a slight grin at the admission. “I need help.”

“Oh, Odette. . .” Pari sighed.

“Don’t worry. That’s why we’re here,” Amanda added. She’d climbed the first step at the back of the ambulance hovering nearby.

Pari looked up from the low, metal bench where she and Odette sat. Odette felt a tug at her hip which pulled her body into Pari’s protective arms. “Since when do you know about Odette’s condition?” asked Pari.

“Oh. Oh. Well, I, erm. . . I kinda just stumbled in on it?”

“When?”

“Today—before we left.”

Pari didn’t make any effort to hide her suspicions. She was using her analysis eyes, sizing Amanda up, seeing her in a new light. The two weren’t just acquaintances anymore, and it was as if Pari was trying to sort out their new identities.

Odette could feel the tension, but said nothing. It seemed too important for words.

“I’m her friend,” said Amanda, not fazed by the silence. “And I helped her earlier today, so I’m not afraid to help her now.”

“. . .”

“I’d help her through anything,” Amanda added.

“Nice words—”

“I would have helped her from day one—I wish I would have known from the beginning,” Amanda said. She’d been solid until she reached the end of her sentence, after which she sniffled.

Pari’s grip on Odette’s waist loosened. The Indian woman eased. “Thank you, Amanda. Let’s talk later. For now, we’ve got work to do. And Janet? You’re pretty used to the milking stuff, right?”

Janet chirped at the calling of her name. “Y-Yes ma’am, Miss Pari.”

“It’s. . . just ‘Pari’,” said Pari. “How much does Theo know?”

The three looked at Odette.

Odette thought back, trying to remember past the crushing trauma of her defeat.

“I haven’t told him anything. He was the first to find me, though, and it’s sorta hard to hide. . .”

“He needs to know,” Pari said, though her voice had a weight of frustration at the statement.

“No.”

“Why not, Odette?”

Odette shrank. “H-He. . . Things are weird between us right now, okay?”

“I assure you, they are weirder now that he’s seen that you make enough breast milk to—”

“Not that.” Odette’s words were clipped. She didn’t want to talk about this—could barely keep her head on straight long enough to bring him up. “Speaking of ‘milk’, c-can we do something about these first? It’s hard to think straight right now. . .”

It was a deflection, but one that nobody could question.

Especially with the audible gurgling her breasts did, production rising again thanks to the extended pressure of a hug and the stimulation of Pari’s shorts.

Still, Pari didn’t let it go just yet. “We’re not done talking. . . but okay. I think the best we can do is go in rounds—have two keep watch outside while the third treats Odette.”

“Good idea,” Amanda agreed. “Who goes first?”

“If you don’t mind, I think the situation has gotten a little dire. Maybe I should—. . .”

“I understand, one-hundred percent. Janet and I will be outside.” Amanda turned in a hunch, stepping down and out of the ambulance. “Good luck, Odette.”

Then she and Janet disappeared, each headed in a different direction from the back of the ambulance to positions out of sight.

Which left Pari and Odette alone.

“Well?” said Pari, like Odette should know what she meant.

“Well?”

“Let’s get started. Not our usual place, but we’re plenty flexible, aren’t we?” said Pari. She pinched Odette’s blouse near the shoulder and waited for Odette to nod before beginning to strip it off of her body. “Is the pressure even throughout? Or are there points where it’s worse?”

“It’s pretty much the same everywhere.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“I wish there was a spot. I’d tell you if there were.”

“Well, as much trouble as they can be, I should know by now that there isn't a pair of breasts as evenly milky as yours, Odette.”

Odette smiled at that despite the situation, noting that being complimented on her milk felt oddly satisfying. Perhaps it was the fact that Pari was doing the complimenting, or that Odette was a person with which Pari felt she could let down her guard to joke about Odette’s creamy knockers.

Didn’t matter. It felt good. Odette was more than ready to feel good after feeling so down.

She and Pari slowly negotiated the milk-drenched clothing away from her body, exposing Odette’s pink-pale skin one inch at a time. It all came away without a hitch except for the parts around Odette’s breasts which, understandably, put up the most fight of all.

As the two pulled and stretched, many weakened connections in Odette’s blouse gave way, opening up new holes and worsening old ones. The scooped shape at the front, which allowed Odette’s cleavage to pour out, deepened at each pull and Odette’s beanbag-sized mammaries dropped into the new space like newly-conquered territory.

Pari’s chest swelled and shrank on a long sigh.

Odette felt embarrassment bubbling up. This sort of clothing destruction was the exact thing she’d mentioned trying to avoid earlier in the day.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“I won’t lie. It sucks. I always thought this blouse looked really cute on you.”

“I liked it too. I’ll buy another one for—. . . Ngahhh!”

Odette winced. The shirt came away from the furthest points of her boobies with a wet SCHLEEEKT! that pulled at her nipples on the way down. Her heart thrashed wildly from the shock of it, surprised by the way the milk-stained fabric adhered to her skin, but she was happy that the point hadn’t been belabored.

“That was the worst of it. Breathe,” Pari instructed.

Odette obeyed. Two sharp breaths in. A single, long breath out, as noisy as she could on the exhale.

“Is she o-o-okay—. . .”

Odette and Pari looked down the ambulance where half of Janet’s head peaked around the doors. She would have seemed concerned, had she not also looked cotton candy pink, gawking at Odette’s exposed bosom.

Odette nodded swiftly, voice lilting at one of her exhales. “I’m fine. No worries.”

“Odette. . . Sugoi. . .” Janet finished her stammering.

“Privacy, Janet. Please,” Pari growled.

“Y-Yes, Miss Pari!” squealed Janet, then she dipped away from the door.

Pari huffed a sigh. “It’s harder with an audience.”

“They’re concerned, too. That’s all,” Odette said. “I made everybody pretty concerned. . .”

“There, there,” Pari softened, brushing Odette’s right breast affectionately with her open palm. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about that later.” Pari stood, began a quick lap around the ambulance. “Start your massaging while I find a few things.”

Again, Odette obeyed. She glanced down at her titties, both entirely exposed. She didn’t think it was the only time she’d been topless publicly, but being in an ambulance with its backdoors open at her current size made her feel her toplessness. At any moment, a person could pass by and see her at work, the heels of her hands used to stroke and push the built up milk from the deepest ducts down to her thick, risen tips. They could see her veins like blue neon signs, all the more present with how engorged her titties were. The side seating was so narrow that she had no room to lean back against the wall, causing her to lean forward with the weight of her boulders pulling her down, trapped between her spread knees and dangling mere inches above the bed of the ambulance.

All of that was on display for anyone to see, and she couldn’t escape the sense of exposure when Pari wasn’t directly beside her.

Though, she had less of a concern that a stranger might see as she did that someone might appear out of nowhere and see her a second time.

A certain someone.

Odette continued to gently squeeze her titties anyhow, using the pleasure to drown any and all worries. The downward strokes combined with the low hang of her boobies was plenty effective at priming them for a good milking. After letting down in the store, she had to avoid an immediate let down now by being gentler with her flesh, not pushing or prodding much when she felt herself about to give up a long run of cream.

Just a few minutes of squeezing her boobs made her feel ten times better.

Meanwhile, Pari proved that she was more than adequately prepared for such an emergency. In her stroll around the small, metallic space, she procured blankets and sheets from various compartments and two massive, plastic tubs that Odette recognized from local hospitals. While Odette’s job was to ready herself for a speedy let down, Pari handled damage control, arranging a few absorbent materials at Odette’s feet while creating a small barricade at the end of the ambulance to keep an overflow of milk from flowing out the back and causing the steps to become dangerously slick. She accomplished all this with a quiet focus. Odette could almost reconstruct the list that Pari had made in her own head based on the utility of the actions alone.

But it became difficult seeing Pari walk around in her nighty shorts, bending and crawling to spread out towels and sheets. The visuals and proximity of Pari’s body in sleep wear caused the blonde’s excitable breasts to churn all the noisier, low gurgles accompanying an increase in sensitivity that made Odette’s exposed nipples throb.

“P-Pari?” Odette whined.

“Alright. I’m done. I’m done,” Pari nodded, still scanning the floor. “Okay. . .”

“They’re so full. . .” Odette said. They were about to pull her onto all fours from their weight. Her milk seemed agitated at being made to wait, her skin taut like a set of drums capped by nipples that had swollen to the length of Odette’s hands. The pose didn’t escape Odette’s mind. With her head between her knees and her mammaries slung so close to the ground, she wasn’t unlike a cow waiting to be milked—which wasn’t a bad thing, as she thought cows were quite cute.

Plus, if she was a cow, then Pari would be her farm hand, and she grew giddy at the idea of being milked by Pari’s capable hands.

As Pari lowered into a squat before Odette and slid the rectangular tub in place between Odette’s legs, the blonde’s boobies had to be hefted over the lip of the container and dropped once more inside. Pari’s touch sent electric pleasure up Odette’s body. Her eyes fluttered.

She was so ready.

“Here,” Pari said.

Odette hadn’t even noticed that there was a pillow nearby. She was transfixed on Pari’s presence, her closeness. Pari smelled like home. Her slender, capable, feminine fingers moved in slow motion. Her tank top was low enough that Odette could peek at the suggestion of breasts down the top, cleavage from her C cups clearly defined, wrapped like presents. All of this came as a pink mist encroached on Odette’s vision. The closer her caretaker came, the less she thought and the more she felt.

“Odette?”

“Hmm?”

“Put the pillow against your stomach. We’ll be here for a while and you’ll need the support.”

“Oh. . .”

“. . .”

Right. Pillow. Stomach. Support. Good.

But something took a moment to click. She felt full, but also bubbly, fond of Pari’s care over her, giddy with excitement. It stole her without warning, the immediate connection, and only after Pari shoved it against her side did she manage to pull her shoulders up and press up on her knees enough to place the plain, white pillow in the space between her dangling breasts and her flat stomach. Immediately, her straining lower back released. Her tummy stopped squeezing so hard. Like always, Pari was right. The pillow was perfect.

But Odette felt no less warm or giddy to be milked by Pari, the experience of it like that of floating in a hot tub.

“Thang joo,” Odette said, her tongue feeling huge in her mouth. She swallowed and tried again. “I-I mean, th-thank you.”

Pari smiled. “Yea, it’s been a while since you’ve been this big, huh? Getting all love drunk from the milk build up?”

Yea. That’s what it was. . .

“Let’s get started, then, shall we?”

Odette nodded, the act causing her hair to obscure most of her vision from Pari’s chest down.

She watched. Pari’s arms rose, her hands coming into view, then her arms, both a pretty brown—the color of expensive coffee from an artisan, mixed to perfection. Odette’s arms crossed, her fingers wrapped around the opposite arms, gripping, impatient. She was instructed to breathe again. She did so.

On an exhale, Pari’s gentle touch came down on both sides of the dangling tits. Hands almost felt cool against the impressive heat of each of Odette’s mammoth gazonga, but each was much larger and more capable than Odette’s tiny paws had been. Pari’s touch gently brushed the outsides of Odette’s blimpish forms. She traced their shape, getting a feel for the landscape. Odette felt the warmth inside her sink and grow, bottoming out below her belly button. Warmth fizzed like carbonated soda from the spot, all from a few brief, gentle touches. One of the breaths she’d been told to breathe came out as a whistling sigh.

“Feel good?” Pari asked, caring, familial.

“Why can’t I ever make my boobs feel like that?” she asked.

“You’re almost always in a hurry with it. Breathe.”

Odette noisily inhaled through her nose and held it, ready for what she knew was about to happen. Her eyes fluttered closed. She exhaled, the loss of air in her lungs bringing her entire body lower and lower and lower until. . .

Pleasant pressure came from the flanks of her titties and pulled down in the same direction of her sinking sensation. The noisy pattering of thick fluid thudded into the basin below. An accompanying sweetness filled the air, a quality that the blonde hadn’t been privy to minutes earlier when she was on the ground, on the brink of tears, fed up with groceries and her breasts and the day as a whole.

The difference was night and day.

Odette’s eyebrows rose and her teeth chattered. Pari came in for another downward stroke on both sides, pressing Odette’s titties together as she went. The product were two powerful streams of milk which dropped from the tips of Odette’s thick nipples like hoses. The force of it caused milk to kick back out of the white plastic bin and speckle her pink areola with thick cream, which clung to the broad curve of her melons before dripping down to join yet another lengthy stream. Odette was so, so full. Every pull from Pari’s hands was several seconds long, and Odette’s milk flowed from the first moment of pressure until several more seconds after the initial jet of hot, fresh breast milk.

Odette couldn’t suppress a giggle after a long, exaggerated sigh of relief. It was just so damned easy when Pari did it. Not to mention pleasurable. The breast massage had only barely begun and she already felt like she could take a nap in the position.

The only thing interrupting this need for a nap was the replacement of the bin beneath Odette’s titties.

“That’s number one,” said Pari, about fifteen minutes later—minutes that had felt like seconds.

“Already?” Odette whined. “It just started to feel good.”

“You’re enormous, Odette,” was Pari’s reply. “As soon as you stop filling these up so fast, you’ll get to enjoy the milking for what it is.”

Odette felt a tingle of satisfaction and couldn’t tell if it was because she’d filled a massive vat with milk so easily or the subtle pride that Pari seemed to have when admitting that Odette was “enormous”.

Both felt fantastic.

Still, Pari groaned and dragged the container back, its lip catching on the undersides of Odette’s boobs. They wobbled back and forth as they swung free. The milk, likewise, sloshed in the vat, spilling over onto the abundance of sheets Pari had put down for that exact purpose. “Thirty liters.”

“Mmmh,” Odette moaned. “Feeling lighter already.”

“You literally haven’t changed size at all, though,” Pari said. “Amanda? Janet? Come here!”

Moments later, Amanda and Janet appeared at the backdoor of the ambulance. Pari muscled the container to the ledge and instructed both women to dump the container at the edge of the parking lot—somewhere near the edge of the woods, perhaps. The two were, understandably, bewildered by every detail of the request.

“It’s warm. . .” Janet said, hand under the edge of the deep, plastic bin.

“And heavy,” Amanda added, taking the opposite side of it.

“Thirty liters,” Pari noted. “You got it?”

“Y-Yup?” Amanda whimpered.

Janet muttered something. “Thirty liters. . . from Odette’s b-boobies?” She then looked up and into the ambulance at Odette, jaw slack. “And she’s still huge. . .”

Odette, still a little drunk on the first round of milking, twiddled her fingers in Janet’s direction before curling them into a thumbs-up.

Janet sagged slightly as she sighed.

Amanda yelped.

The pair’s height difference combined with, well, whatever it was that had taken over Janet, caused the curvy, Japanese woman’s grip to falter. The contents of milk tipped over the lip on her lowered side, and half a container’s worth of Odette’s freshly milked breast milk ran down Janet’s forearms and onto the pavement around her.

“Janet!” Amanda barked.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Janet cried. “It’s so warm! I—. . .”

“Guys! Go!” yelled Pari.

And in a sloshy, awkward trundle, the two rushed out of sight. As Pari prepared a second container of equal size, Odette heard her friends as they walked beside the ambulance.

“Gah! Janet, watch it! It’s all over me now!” Amanda shouted.

“S-Sorry!”

“I’m so wet!”

“I-I didn’t mean to spill it. I got distracted by—. . .”

“Me too! But it didn’t distract me from. . .”

“Eep!”

“JANET!”

Odette giggled as the voices trailed. “They’re great.”

“Great friends,” Pari said, sliding the next vat into place. She took the moment’s respite to redo her thick ponytail, forcing away the wavy ribbons that often got stuck in her face. “And surprisingly not the least competent medical professionals I’ve met.”

“Don’t be mean, Pari.”

“It was a compliment. Though, if I had to pick one of your friends to take this seriously. . .”

“Uh-huh?”

Pari glanced down toward Odette’s feet, bracing the new, empty container between her thighs. “I bet Theo is surprisingly capable. . .”

Odette could feel the anxiety creeping in at the mention of her friend, but the last fifteen or so minutes had been nothing short of bliss. She was riding high on having been milked, and though no progress was made, she felt she could speak about Theo.

Though what to say. . .

Be honest.

“I can’t believe he saw me like this,” Odette said. Her head sank, chin pulled tight into the pillow. “After I tried so hard, too. Pari, I was doing so good. I was full, but it was a game and we were both playing it together and we were getting so much good shopping done. . .”

Odette appreciated that Pari went ahead and continued to milk her as she recounted the day’s events. Even though her admissions probably meant a lot, Pari didn’t act like they meant a lot, which coaxed the words out of Odette, a stammering river of ideas and feelings and memory snippets.

Oh, and the pleasure of milk leaving her glutted teats was all the balm her frayed nerves needed to continue on.

So she spilled her guts, confessed everything that had happened leading up to this very moment, shattered pieces she hoped that Pari could arrange for her:

Janet’s initial confession.

Learning about Theo’s feelings.

Attempting to act normally around him only to fail epically because of the erratic and erotic nature of having milk-producing boobs.

Failing to act normally. . . because boobs.

And trying to steer the like-like back into normalcy with games, fun, and distraction—which is what it was, even if she tried to make it sound like driving.

Oh, and at some point she brought up driving, which now seemed like the least scary thing of all after having collapsed from exhaustion and arousal in a public place.

And all the while, Pari’s hands didn’t leave her. Her full, veiny mammaries surrendered liter after liter of fresh, hot cream, the flow of it consistent and tamable under Pari’s hands. The pleasure sometimes caused her words to trail. She had to take frequent breaks as she rode the warm, tingling goodness up and over squeezing peaks before returning hesitantly to valleys of consciousness. Her weight shifted slightly, production finally being beaten out by Pari’s skill. It felt amazing. She felt light—her milk leaving her, sure, but other lightness as well, the sort that comes with confession.

And by the time she was done getting the story out, another vat of milk sloshed between her legs, her weighty, pendulous melons caught up in Pari’s dripping fingers.

Pari clasped both of Odette’s titties once the story was over, helping to hold them aloft. Their soft flesh bunched into her palms and rolled over onto her wrists, nipples caught between her fingers. Odette moaned at the kind squeezing, the suspension of her two, milky mountains, easily carried by her caretaker.

After hearing about the grand adventure that had taken place from the moment Pari went to sleep to the current moment—milkings and feelings and a botched grocery trip—Pari sat in silence, eyes gliding over Odette’s pale, perfect titties until the right words came to her.

“Odette?” she said.

“Yes, Pari?”

“I will never take another sick day off. Ever. Ever. Not for as long as I live. . .” Pari remarked. “Not for as long as we both live.”

“Pari!” Odette fussed.

“And you’re never leaving the house. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

“Pari!”

“And you’ll never be this full again. I’m milking every drop out of you. You’ll be lucky to have mosquito bite boobies.”

“No!” Odette protested. “I-I make too much. I could never be that small.”

Pari loomed closer to Odette’s low-hanging fruit. She spoke low, something exciting in her voice. “Is that a challenge?”

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Oh. Uh, n-nothing. . .”

“No. I like it—whatever it is. . .”

Pari’s hands braced underneath Odette’s tits, holding them even higher and aloft. The pressure on her areola brought streams of cream down Pari’s forearms like she was wringing the water from a rag.

The two locked eyes. Odette couldn’t say what she liked about watching Pari’s big, dark eyes. It wasn’t even that she found them pretty—they were sort of crusty and ringed with darkness from having just been sick.

But she liked it. She liked being close to Pari, enjoying the squeeze of her “enormous” tits in Pari’s greedy hands.

Greedy.

That was the word.

The same way Pari had been the one to carry Odette away from the Fresh Farmer, and how Pari had pulled her closer, away from Amanda before Pari knew for certain that they were all on the same page.

And all while Odette told her story about her day, she saw it bubbling up in Pari. The milking became a bit too smooth—forcefully smooth, forcefully controlled, contained.

When Odette put her face closer to Pari and gazed into her eyes, she made it—the greed that had been suppressed—come out.

Then, it clicked.

Maybe—maybe—talking about squeezing her boobs against Janet’s in a hug, and being milked twice by Amanda, and dealing with Theo’s feelings had made Pari feel a little left out.

There was a way that Pari didn’t have to feel so left out, though.

“Pari. . .” Odette said, voice a whisper. At the thought, her eyes dipped to Pari’s lips.

“Oh, Odette. . .” Pari rolled her eyes. But rather than shrug off Odette’s smoldering eye contact, Pari called for Amanda and Janet.

The two appeared at the end of the ambulance, took another thirty liters of fresh breast milk down and away, left the previously emptied container, and shrieked back and forth as the too-full container spilled thick cream all over them. They carried it away messily. Odette and Pari heard their voices trailing down the side of the ambulance.

Pari took the plastic container. . . and slid it behind her. Instead, she took the place of the container, both of Odette’s creamy jugs resting against her chest.

“You really think you could get me down to A cups?” Odette asked, dubious.

Pari shrugged. She leaned back, a hand on the underside of Odette’s heavy titty until a thick, throbbing nipple appeared. It rolled upward until it was at the perfect angle for Pari’s mouth. “Not even close. You’re too productive.”

“But I still owe you lunch, right?” Odette giggled.

“Not what I had in mind. . . but. . .”

Odette watched rapt. Pari lowered her chin and brushed a long, thick nipple across her lips before opening her mouth and taking the sensitive node inside.

And soon, Odette’s milk flowed in earnest.