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“Okay, okay, this is fine. It’s over. I’ve got this,” Ashley didn’t believe herself for a second. Each word sounded like she was dying, suffocated by the bra. It seemed to have shrunk, but she knew better. Her tits had grown to overflow and swallow the cups. They were tight as well, the skin barely gave under her touch, and the nipples refused to retract. Worse, they sloshed if she moved too suddenly.

It still didn’t make sense. Nothing should cause her to lactate. She wasn’t pregnant, her few times with boys had involved condoms, and she wasn’t on any drugs. The ones Gretchen pressured her into taking once, years ago, didn’t count. Was she just a freak? Like Mary and Zoey?

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