Self-Induced V (Patreon)

Note: This is a story-prompt for Ryan Caday.

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Towards the end of her shift, Janet was exhausted and uncomfortable, and just desperate to get out of there.

For the latter half of the workday, she had found herself hurrying off to the bathroom with more and more frequency, as her breasts filled more rapidly, seemingly increasing its milk-production with every time she suckled from herself. It was an endless cycle of swelling and growth, and Janet could hardly keep up with it anymore.

Her shift was ending, and she had just drank from herself half an hour ago, yet her breasts were already uncomfortably full, skin hot and tingling. She was flushed and sweaty, and she had already undone the top three buttons of her blouse. If she showed another centimeter of cleavage, she was sure to get in trouble for inappropriate dress.

It was a burden. The heaviness, tightness, heat, and even that rousing ache of her nipples, desperate for attention, as she squirmed and panted, doing her best to chat with colleagues and clients without slipping any stray grunts or moans.

The truth was, Janet was getting sick of it. It had gotten to be too much for even her to consume.

So on her way home, she found herself stopping at a maternity store at the mall. She ignored the odd looks thrown her way, people seeming unable to decide whether she was pregnant or just had a massive beer belly—likely due to the chubby shape of her swell, and the way it bobbed with her movements. Not firm as it would be with a baby.

She waddled her way along the aisles, stalling in her uncertainty. But in the end, she committed to her idea. She ended up buying a breast pump, suspecting that it might be a worthwhile investment, given her…rather awkward predicament.

Janet left the store and got in her car, wincing slightly at the sensation of her round belly squishing against her steering wheel, despite that she had adjusted her seat back as far as her car allowed. Her breasts shivered as the vehicle started, making her twitch and grunt out. Her nipples were swollen and pressing hard into the thin cotton of her top, the buttons straining, and starting to pull apart.

By the time Janet finally got home, she felt as though she might just start squirting at any moment. She was practically staggering as she made her way to her bedroom, sitting back against her pillows, trying to get comfortable as she unbuttoned her straining top with shaking fingers.

She was just so full, her body aching for release.

Janet carefully attached the pumps and turned them on. She gave a gasp as it started. It was a completely new sensation to her. She’d always nursed herself, with her own warm lips. It was so different, this sharp efficiency of the machine, with its powerful, methodical pumps. Her eyes fluttered as she sank back farther.

Admittedly, it was nowhere near as satisfying as when she did it on her own, but Janet was just relieved for the quick relief. In only twenty minutes, she was drawing long breaths as she savored that scarce feeling of emptiness. She felt cooler and lighter, and for once was free of that preoccupation of “attending” to her engorged breasts, full of creamy milk waiting to be consumed.

Janet detached the pumps with a whimper. It probably would have made better sense to turn it off first. She did that next, sighing as she looked down at the yield.

It was quite a large amount. She found herself licking her lips, but even she knew that she had no space left. Her belly was still aching from her last substantial serving, just before she had left work.

It was a lot, probably at least a gallon, she thought, still amazed by how much sustenance her body was able to produce.

It was a shame to waste food, especially food so full of nutrition, food that her own body had created.

She couldn’t bring herself to pour it away.

Janet hummed a moan as she climbed up, stretching out her tense back.

Lifting the container (oh, it was still warm), she brought it with her to the kitchen, screwed on the cover, and put it in the fridge.

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