Multiple Mammaries, Part 2 - Female Version (Patreon)

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On days Cona was home, she couldn’t help rubbing her warm, tingling belly, though she wasn’t sure why. It just felt quite…good, her loins tingling as she rubbed circles on her bloated skin. Her stomach had gotten tight and uncomfortable by then. And her belly button had gotten bigger than ever. It just meant she needed extra tape when she went out.

Her breasts, swollen E-cups, could no longer be concealed in even the biggest, ugliest, and most misshapen sweaters. In addition to that, the more she grew, the more heated she became, and the more she felt suffocated in her layers of attire, as it was the middle of the summer. The athletic tape had gotten painful, made it hard to breathe, and was of little use to Cona by then.

Cona went to work in a new bra she had ordered on the internet, a large blouse, and a light jacket she shed once she was inside her glass-walled office. She kept her head down, and avoided eye contact with everyone, though she could still feel them gawking.

With her absence of hunching, athletic tape, layers, and sweaters, she had changed what had looked like an awkwardly hidden C-cup to her true, swollen form. She was out with her condition, at least partly. She was out with her massive breasts.

No one seemed to be able to make sense of it. Her colleagues would look at her then quickly look away. There were whispered rumors. Some talk of plastic surgery.

At one point, Cona climbed under her desk to take reprieve from the stares, and also to attend to her condition. She unbuttoned her shirt enough that her cleavage was bulging heavily from the opening, and she could reach in to pluck each breast out of her bra cups.

Cona attached the pump to her nipples and turned it on, breathing heavily as the machine hummed and milked her in pulsations. With her rounded belly, it was getting rather cramped under her desk, but Cona made it work. She heard someone knocking on her office door, but ignored it. The person eventually walked off, and Cona released a long sigh as the pressure in her swollen mounds slowly subsided. When she was finished, she stared uneasily at the five cups of creamy milk her body had produced. And for some reason, rather than pouring it away, Cona decided to cover the container and stuff it into her briefcase.

-

Her breasts were getting so big, so full, pressed against each other on her chest, pushing forward, outward, demanding attention. They weren’t something Cona could keep hiding within the workplace or outside it. It was time to come clean.

Cona had a sit-down with her sister in her apartment with none of the varying measures she usually employed to try to hide her condition. In just a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, her breasts bulged slightly out of the bra she was wearing, and her bloated belly perched against her lap like a ball.

He looked seven months pregnant by then, and as though she had a golf ball affixed to her navel.

As Julie stared, Cona explained everything that had been going on with her chest – the expansion, the lactation, everything. Red in the face and not meeting her sister’s eyes, Cona told Julie how stressful things were at work, how the doctor thought it was sympathy weight, and how frustrating it was that she just kept growing.

“This is all my fault,” Julie said, her eyes watering.

Cona protested, “How could this possibly be your fault? It’s just a weird psychological thing. Seeing you swell up during your pregnancy made my body want to mirror yours, I guess.” Cona uneasily placed a hand on her belly. “Trust me Julie, this isn’t you. Things just – happen. At least I’m alive and well. I’m just a bit – uncomfortable – that’s all.”

Julie rubbed her nose. “What are your options?” she said, her voice quavering.

Cona sighed. “Last time I saw the doctor, he was doubtful that this could be reversed naturally at this point.” Cona glanced down at the heaving mounds on her chest. “Surgery may be my only option, but I’m not eligible for it until I get the lactation under control.”

Julie nodded, her eyes wet again.

“Hey, don’t cry,” said Cona. “It’s been…rough, but, I have to say, it’s helped me to really appreciate what you have to go through for your baby every day.”

Julie released a weak laugh. “Me? I can barely nurse him once a day. Look at you, just bursting with milk.”

Cona reddened, but did not respond.

-

Cona sometimes awoke at night to baby Eric crying, and it often took her a moment to realize that she was dreaming. Even when the baby wasn’t there, the wails plagued Cona’s mind, and frustratingly enough, it was messing with her sleep cycle.

Cona climbed out of bed, rubbing her abdomen. It had gotten so weirdly tight though she wasn’t eating any more than usual. Her belly button bulged out almost painfully. Cona wondered whether she had developed a hernia. Just another issue to add to the pile.

Cona was wearing some sweats and a tank top that couldn’t really accommodate her mounds at that point. Her breasts were mostly bulging over the neckline, and her belly was sticking out under the hem. Cona continued to rub her belly. She groaned quietly. It was so tender for some reason, her skin tingling, and navel pink, and aching. Deeply breathing, Cona withdrew her hand. She figured that now that she was up, she might as well get some work done.

Cona went to her home office and plopped down in her desk chair, and as she did, she felt a burning sensation shoot through her belly button as something spurted out of it. “Ohh!” Cona grunted, clutching her abdomen in shock as she tried to figure out what had happened. She noticed some white fluid splattered on her computer screen, then looked down, to see that her belly button was strangely…seeping. “No…” she said to herself in panic. “No, no, no, no, no…” How was it even possible? If she didn’t know any better, she would say her belly had become a…

Cona squeezed her belly button, and was welcomed with a spurt of warm white fluid.

A giant breast.

“Oh god,” said Cona, as her belly button-turned-nipple throbbed. This was extreme. It didn’t even make sense!

The milk continued to seep down the lower half of her stomach to her shorts, where her loins tingled. In fact, all three of her nipples had gotten hard and distended. It was horrifying. Climbing up, Cona grabbed her breast pump, then hurried into the bathroom, where she set it down, then hesitated. What if this just made things worse? The milk continued to seep down her navel, sliding down to her groin and along the insides of her thighs.

-

The next day, Cona opened her office to one of the company’s top clients, Reginald Archburger. “Hello sir, how are you?” Cona shook his hand.

“Fine, and you? I hadn’t realized you were expecting.”

Cona swallowed. “Oh, I’m not.” Archburger blinked, and Cona was quick to redirect the conversation. “Have a seat.”

As Archburger obeyed, Cona worked her way back to her desk, sitting slowly and carefully, her jiggling round belly perching against her lap. She breathed heavily, feeling quite full and hot, while Archburger simply stared at her in confusion.

Cona was so overheated with the hot milk filling her abdomen, she had all but given up on hiding her mounds. She was dressed in a skirt and a large blouse that was getting too-tight on her, wrapping around her body so her belly and breasts were on full display.

At least Cona’s padded bra managed to conceal her large nipples, as did the medical tape she had adhered to her belly-nipple to keep it from protruding.

Cona pulled out Mr. Archburger’s file, and the two got into deep conversation regarding her account with the company, and the possibility of opening a new one. Cona had been instructed to offer Mr. Archburger a variety of incentives, and she could tell that she was getting close to closing a deal.

Just on the cusp of getting Archburger to sign the contract, Cona’s eyes widened. She could feel herself beginning to seep, the tape moistening, and starting to peel away from the giant nipple on her midsection.

“Excuse me,” said Cona, carefully standing, holding her bobbing belly, and hurrying off to the bathroom. Once she’d locked herself into a stall, she fumbled with her pump and attached it to her belly-nipple, turning it on, and moaning as the pressure began to taper. But soon the container was overflowing, and milk was spilling onto the floor, creating puddles, and Cona wasn’t even close to being finished. In addition to her belly still being quite bloated with milk, she hadn’t even gotten started on her EE-cup breasts, both which felt full to bursting. Cona needed to be milked more often than ever now. She fumbled to empty the machine.

Cona froze when she heard a knock on the stall door.

“Cona, you in there?” It was her supervisor, Sally.

“Yeah,” said Cona weakly, hoping Sally didn’t notice the mess she was making in the stall.

“Ted told me about your, uh, condition. I know it causes you a lot of anxiety and whatnot. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t just run out on meetings with top clients.”

Cona could hear the impatience in Sally’s voice.

“Right, sorry, I’ll be right out,” Cona responded. Sally remained motionless on the other side of the stall door, and Cona stood frozen, holding her breath. She released a sign of relief when she heard Sally finally walk out of the bathroom, then Cona hurried to tape her navel-nipple back down, and struggled to get her shirt back on.

Cona hurried back to her office, breathing heavily. Mr. Archburger was halfway out the door.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” said Cona. “I thought we were making good progress.”

Archburger stared at Cona’s various mounds. “Well, it’s just that…” she trailed off, still staring. “Erm, well, I guess I’ll stay.”

Cona held the door open and ushered him back into the office.

As they wrapped up the meeting, Archburger seemed so intrigued by Cona’s physique, he allowed Cona to guide the discussion, and limited most of his responses to one or two words.

Meanwhile, Cona was struggling to keep it together. The breasts on her chest were full to capacity, tissue completely saturated - over-saturated - with milk. She could feel her nipples distending and throbbing, threatening to release at any moment. The upper buttons of her shirt grew increasingly tight as her breasts plumpened up with more milk, until one of her buttons snapped, revealing several inches of her flushed, sweaty cleavage.

Archburger looked positively alarmed, but Cona pretended not to notice what had occurred. Her forehead beaded with sweat, her slid the contract over to Archburger.

“And if you just sign here, we can get the account set up for you in the next few days.”

At the sight of the contract, Archburger jumped slightly. He reddened as he lifted his eyes from Cona’s chest. The man seemed entirely aroused. “Yes…well…of course.” Archburger hastily signed the contract.

“As always, it’s a pleasure doing business with you.” Cona offered Archburger her hand.

Archburger shook it, then stood and left, every so often glancing back.

-

Cona somehow wound up babysitting baby Eric again. The wailing began almost instantly.

Going to her kitchen, Cona pulled out a container of formula, peered at it, then put it away. Instead she went into the fridge and pulled out a container of her milk she had saved, and warmed it, before filling the bottle with that. Cona returned to the guest room and leaned down to the baby, her belly pressing against the side of the crib. She tried to feed baby Eric with the bottle, but as usual, the infant was resistant.

Cona thought for a moment. She squirted a bit of the milk from the bottle onto her pinky, then pressed it to the baby’s lips, allowing him to taste it. Cona then promptly stuck the nipple of the bottle into the baby’s mouth. Baby Eric hesitated, and sucked.

Cona felt a flood of relief as she watched the baby continue to suck from the bottle. Cona slipped out of the room without notice to change into a tanktop and some sweats that her belly pushed down in the front. Cona turned to her side in her mirror, rather surprised by how tight the seat of the pants looked and examined her ass. She was sure those very pants had fit her fine a week before.

Cona cringed as she heard some whimpering noises in the guest room. She headed over, and was surprised to see that the baby had finished the whole bottle, now fruitlessly sucking on the bottle’s empty nipple.

Taking it, Cona returned to the kitchen and prepped another bottle of her milk. She returned and offered it to baby Eric, a little stunned as the baby started to suck this one down as well.

After the baby was finished, he fell right to sleep. There was no wailing, no crying, just his light breathing. Cona realized it would be a good idea to continue to save her milk.

Quite pleased by her small victory, Cona headed to her home office and got on her computer to brainstorm about her increasingly concerning condition.

She wanted to see a doctor but was doubtful about what one could do for her at that point. Cona began to look for specialists online, but no one seemed to specialize in her affliction. It wasn’t dangerous, as far as Cona could tell. It was just absolutely bizarre.

Cona even made a hefty online payment to get into a web chat with a world renowned endocrinologist. Careful not to reveal too much identifying information, Cona explained her dilemma in detail.

There was a long pause before the doctor responded: Is this a joke?

Cona suddenly felt hot, her shoulders tensing in anger. She grunted and cupped her belly-nipple as it distended in her anxiety. And then she typed, Do you think I would be paying you $1000+ dollars for a practical joke? She absently rubbed her belly as she glared at the screen and pressed the ENTER key.

There was another long pause, before the chat box said, Dr. Ferg is typing… This went on for a good several minutes as Cona squirmed. Her breasts really needed to be pumped.

Finally, a long wall of text appeared. Cona quickly scanned it with her eyes. The Doctor had posted several hyperlinks followed by summaries, all of them links to…mental health specialists.

Cona released a frustrated growl and turned off the computer. By then her breasts were freely leaking, milk soaking through her shirt and rolling down to her belly. Cona heavily climbed to her feet. She had to clean herself up.

Cona trudged to the bathroom and affixed the breast pump to her bloated chest. She turned it on and pumped herself, by then producing five cups of milk between her two upper breasts. She was stunned by the weight of the container when she was finished. How did she carry all that around with her?

Cona looked down at her belly and imagined it was much worse. By then it felt rather full and tingly, and Cona had barely finished pumping her breasts. She was exhausted.

Cona lightly rubbed her belly, knowing she should not have, but unable to stop herself as waves of pleasure reverberated from her core. She released a quiet groan and leaned back on the wall. A few more circular rubs left Cona feeling weak in the knees. She straightened herself and grabbed the breast pump in addition to the extra-large container she used for her belly when at home. Her massive midsection breast took a good while to fully pump compared to the upper ones. Cona headed to the living room, figuring she might as well get comfortable.

Cona carefully reclined on the couch, and took to lightly stroking her navel, just to…get herself started. She groaned as the nipple swelled up considerably, almost to twice its size. Cona started panting as her panties moistened. She basked in the pleasure of the process.

She distractedly affixed the pump to her belly-nipple and turned it on, before reaching for her loins, pumping into that too.

For minutes, Cona slid her fingers up and down, her breasts wiggling and belly bobbing. “Oh…nngghh…” she arched her back as she came, and surprisingly quickly. She panted as a contented smile spread over her face. Only then did Cona notice the breast pump was making an odd sputtering noise.

As Cona winded down from orgasm, she held the side of her belly and realized that it was barely any less engorged than it had been several minutes before. She removed the pump and struggled to sit up, somehow managing to get milk splashed in her face as it spurted from her massive nipple. Hastily wiping her eyes, Cona finally got upright and examined the pump. Now it was smoking. She quickly turned it off. It looked like the tubing was jammed. It seemed the milk was too – thick?

Cona tried massaging, shaking, even blowing on the tubing, but it didn’t loosen the milk packed within it. It was like a coffee straw trying to accommodate a milkshake, the milk just wouldn’t go through. Cona groaned in frustration. Why hadn’t she been paying attention? She glared down at her belly. How thick was her milk anyway?

Cona grunted. She was getting uncomfortable now. She would just have to try milking herself the old fashioned method.

Not wanting to make a mess in the living room, Cona carefully stood. She felt so tight, so uncomfortable. Her belly nipple started spurting, but she clutched it the best she could, causing milk to drip on the floor as she made her way to the bathroom.

Cona filled the tub with warm water. She sat on the edge, placing her feet in it, so her belly was perched in her lap. Eyes squeezed shut, she ghosted her belly-nipple with her finger until it became painfully aroused, and seeping. She gently squeezed it between her fingers, rewarded with a spurt of milk. She repeated this a few times, feeling relieved as her belly loosened slightly. Cona squeezed her nipple several more times, and could feel her loins begin to moisten again. But to her frustration, her milk-flow had lowered to a seep, though she was still quite engorged. Why isn’t this working?

Cona tried to figure out what she was doing wrong. Her mind went to the milking of…cows…and she reddened. Cows stood on all fours and had the assistance of gravity when they were milked.

Though extremely reluctant, Cona was desperate enough to climb down into the tub on all fours so her plump belly was hanging beneath her and into the water, her abdominal muscles tensing then relinquishing their burden as she reached down and fumbled to grasp her bulging navel. Her back felt strained, and everything was just so…slippery. “Eugh,” Cona grunted in frustration, attempting to milk herself, but it was just too uncomfortable, and difficult, and she couldn’t get a good grasp on her nipple in such a position.

Giving up, Cona turned herself onto her bottom, flushed and panting. She reclined a bit in the warm, soapy water. This would have been nice if she wasn’t so uncomfortably tight.

Cona stared at the way her round belly crowned out of water’s surface. Like an iceberg. A ruiner, for sure. She grunted as the mass tightened. The soapy water didn’t seem to be helping. The issue was internal, after all. Cona peered at her large, swollen nipple, protruding considerably, and throbbing by then. She trembled as her belly tightened again. It released a single spurt of milk, and Cona rubbed the tense mass. There was no way she was going to find a new pump at that time of night. If she wasn’t milked soon, what would happen? Would she just keep getting bigger? Would she pop? She stared at her throbbing navel, taking deep breaths. It was verging on pain. And yet the pressure continued to grow.

Overcome by a sudden desperation, Cona leaned forward, curling up in a ball to plant her lips against her navel-nipple. Holding the plump mass of her belly in her arms, Cona took a suck.

-

Thick, like cream. And sweet, almost buttery. She finally understood why the baby liked it so much. Even at present, baby Eric’s face was buried in Cona’s chest, looking for access. It was the next morning, and Cona was impatiently knocking on her sister’s apartment door.

It opened. “My sweetums!” said Julie, taking baby Eric from Cona’s free arm.

With Cona’s other hand, she was clutching her belly as it ached and trembled and seeped through her clothes. That morning she had woken up looking eight months pregnant, and fully engorged. Her face red and sweaty, she wore a pained expression.

Suckling large amounts of milk from herself may have worked for a fleeting hour or two, but Cona had quickly swollen back up with the fluid, more of it than ever. If anything, consuming her own milk had just made her condition worse. Cona absently wondered if this issue applied to all dairy, or just her milk.

Julie covered baby Eric with kisses. She wore a pleased smile. “Aunt Cona is the best, isn’t she? Isn’t she, sweet tea? I don’t know what your aunt’s feeding you, but you barely eat at home. Aunt Cona is getting you so nice and chubby. Who’s my chubby? Who’s my chubby?” She lifted baby Eric to blow on her stomach, causing a goofy grin to spread over the baby’s face. Julie finally threw a glance at Cona, and her mouth fell open. “Oh my…Cona…?”

Cona was wearing a large cargo jacket she had gotten online a few days before. Since the previous night, it had gotten too-tight, wrapping her girth, and nowhere near concealing it. Her upper breasts had swollen to EEEs, their bloated state seeming to actively push her zipper lower and lower, though Cona neither had the time to notice nor care. All three of her nipples were blatantly erect, and her chest and belly were soaked in so much milk, she looked as though she had just climbed out of a pool.

She couldn’t help surveying her sister, who already looked as though she had dropped all of her pregnancy weight. Cona felt a spark of resentment.

“Cona, what is going on with you?” Julie demanded, gawking at her belly.

Cona shook her head. Every so often, her expression contorted in discomfort. “I don’t even…nrrghh…know where I’d…ughh…begin to…explain.” She panted for several moments. “Julie, do you…have a…”

“What is it?” said Julie.

But Cona couldn’t go on. She was too mortified to go through with asking to borrow her sister’s breast pump. That took things to a whole new level of humiliating. Julie still looked so innocently oblivious at that moment. Why not just leave it that way?

“Listen sis,” said Cona. “I really…ohhh god…I have to go.” Clutching her belly, Cona waddled off.

Using the map app on her phone, Cona found the nearest maternity store in the area. She went to the breast pump section, by then, her clothes so saturated with milk, they were dripping on the floor. Despite it, Cona struggled to maintain as much control as she could. She felt her belly tightening, the milk cumulating within it, determined to start forcefully spurting out at any moment. Her belly-nipple stuck out prominently against her moist clothes, and it looked so abnormal, people stared. In her immense discomfort, Cona found difficulty making a thorough search of the breast pumps. She was having trouble spotting any with a thicker hose than her old one, but eventually grabbed one that looked like it might have been bigger. She grabbed some containers to go with it, including the biggest one she could find, holding ten cups. She then made her way to the register, noticing something else and adding it to her basket on the way. Not thinking she could hold in her burden for much longer, Cona slapped some $100 bills down on the cash register and waddled off, basket and all.

-

Cona knew she didn’t have time to go home. It was an hour before the office opened, her entire belly seeming to be pulsating by then. Cona made her way inside, red and gasping. Turning on a few lights, she made her way to the bathroom, and got into a stall. It was a tight fit now. Cona fumbled with her shopping basket and pulled out the new pump. She quickly attached it to her belly button, and turned it on.

Her legs became jelly, and she had to hold onto the stall to support herself, too afraid to sit down, because she felt like she would pop. Cona groaned as her burden of milk slowly eased. She was so aroused, she found difficulty breathing. “Ohhh…” Cona groaned, her juices seeping down between her legs. Finally feeling comfortable enough to sit down, Cona lowered herself to the toilet seat, and took several deep breaths.

Cona slumped down against her girth, exhausted. Over the course of the hour, the milk level of the largest container rose and rose, until it was full, and Cona was stunned. Ten cups of milk, and she wasn’t even sure she was finished.

But she could hear some movement and speaking outside the bathroom, and she knew she was running out of time.

Cona covered the heavy container of milk, and replaced it in her shopping basket. She then attached the pump to her upper breasts, sighing as the immense pressure on her chest slowly subsided. They had swollen up to massive FF-cups by then, quite the sight to behold. When that was finished, Cona cleaned herself up the best she could with some toilet paper, then pulled out a change of clothes she had brought up from her car. Her breasts bulged heavily from the cups of the maternity bra she donned, though she loosened it as much as she could. Cona usually did her best to anticipate her growth when she made clothing purchases, but there was no way she could have predicted this. She held up her shirt and stared at it, uncertainly. She wasn’t sure it would fit. She glanced down at her protruding belly.

Cona then remembered her final purchase at the maternity store. Maybe this will help, she thought as she dug into her shopping bag.

A pregnancy girdle. It had looked like it might be useful to her. Cona reddened, resenting what had become of her previously slim physique. She awkwardly pulled the apparel on. She had hastily grabbed the biggest one she spotted, and luckily for her, it fit.

The contraption really supported her girth, minimized the appearance of her distended navel, and even seemed to shrink her large breast-belly down a few inches.

Feeling hopeful, Cona tried to get into her white blouse. It was wrapped tightly around her mounds, but it just about fit. Cona sighed in relief as she clasped the final button closed. Maybe, just maybe, she would make it through the work day.

-

Two days later, Cona was instructed to dress for the outdoors, and to meet her boss in a different location than usual.

She was surprised to find that it was a tennis court.

It was quite hot outside, so Cona was wearing a T-shirt and some navy shorts, her new maternity girdle firmly in place. Her ass was unusually tight in the seat of her pants, sticking out rather noticeably. Cona looked around in uncertainty as she approached Ted. They greeted each other with a quick nod and hand shake.

“What’s going on?” said Cona.

“Today we’re entertaining some of our top clients. Hope you brought your racquet.”

“Pardon?”

“Weren’t you on your college tennis team? I heard you were the star player.”

“I know,” said Cona, reddening. “I’m just a bit out of shape.”

“A bit” was a drastic understatement.

Ted seemed to make a point of not looking at Cona’s enormous belly. “Nonsense. We’re playing doubles with Mr. & Mrs. McDougal over there.” He lightly waved to a couple waiting on the nearby court, and they waved back. They were in their forties or so. Cona had seen them once or twice around the office. “If you don’t have a racquet, I’ve been assured the club will loan you one free of charge.”

Cona stood frozen.

“Off you go,” said Ted sternly.

Cona had no choice but to trudge up to the ritzy Victorian property and approach the front desk of the country club. They were waiting for her, and promptly provided her with a racquet. Cona returned to the tennis court, walking as slowly as possible.

“You’re on my team,” Ted called, motioning for Cona to join him on the near side of the net.

Cona did as instructed.

The game began, and Cona feebly waved her racquet here and there, not putting too much effort into it. She could tell Ted was beginning to get annoyed.

“Put some energy into it, geez,” Ted called as she darted about for the ball.

Cona began to wave her racquet a bit more enthusiastically, but still did not move much, in fear or aggravating her condition. There was no denying how frustrated she felt whenever she saw the ball fly just beyond the reach of her racquet. A few weeks earlier, she would have completely dominated the game.

“C’mon, Cona!” Now Ted just seemed pissed.

Between her naturally competitive nature, and her fear of losing favor with her boss, Cona finally started to move. It wasn’t much, by any means, but given her condition, it was exhausting. She shifted her body left and right, hitting the ball lightly when it was within her range. But soon she noticed that Ted wasn’t that great at tennis at all, and Cona started trying to compensate for him a bit as well.

Throughout all of this, Cona’s three mounds were relentlessly wiggling and bobbing. At times, she saw the clients staring, but that just gave her a strategic advantage.

Cona panted, feeling her mounds tightening at a much faster rate than usual. She rested her free hand against her lower back. “I think I need a break,” she called to Ted, red in the face, and feeling faint.

“C’mon Cona, we’re finally gaining the upper hand,” Ted snapped back at her. Ted arbitrarily threw a good-natured grin at the clients, alternating back and forth between his aggressive personality and his genial facade.

And so the game continued. Cona could feel her girdle slowly getting tighter on her. By then she could barely catch her breath, and was feeling really quite full, her mounds tingling, her nipples swelling and sore. The girdle was stifling her, being pushed away from her body, the edges sinking into her bloated flesh.

“Goodness, Cona, you’re sweating buckets,” Ted called to her.

Cona looked down at herself, and was horrified to see she was seeping milk from her bloating chest and her massive belly-breast as well. The patches were so localized to the three nipples, it could hardly pass as sweat at all. Her nipples began to visibly protrude as her t-shirt became saturated in moisture.

“Have – to – go,” Cona gasped out, dumping the racquet and hurrying off.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Ted called after her.

Cona went straight for her car, not looking back at what she imagined was Ted’s infuriated expression and the words “demotion” forming on his lips.

Cona drove one-handedly as she struggled out of the suffocating girdle. Undoing the final strap, Cona breathed a sigh of relief as her belly pushed forward against her lap, so round and full, it was now pressing the steering wheel. She almost resembled her sister when she had been at term with the baby. Only, her mass was more fleshy, pliant, and bouncy, bobbing up and down as Cona sped to her house. Milk seeped freely from her three nipples and rolled down her torso. Cona simply tried to catch her breath.

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