If you’re reading this, this is a beta version of the story, though it is essentially finished. If this page disappears, that means it’s been officially posted. Check the Interconnected Writing stories, and you should find it there.
Elise slowly returned to the waking world, mostly against her will. Her life was a continuous struggle, and even though there were plenty of people who wanted to help her and plenty of technologies and innovations that made her life easier to live, she still found herself frustrated at what had become of it all. Awake as she was, she laid as still as she could in her bed, as though she might slip beneath the gaze of reality itself and move beyond the bonds of this world into another life entirely.
If only it could be so simple. A chime rang through her apartment as the twin front doors to her hyper habitation swung open. One of the building’s social workers would be at her bedroom door in a few seconds at best. Hopefully it wasn’t Kira or Bethany, though she was thankful that she wasn’t seeing as much of those two recently. The social worker identified herself a moment before the doors opened, her high-pitched, sing-song voice sounding through the room.
“Go~od morning, Elise!” Farah’s smile was impossible to miss in her tone. “How are we doing today?”
A different feeling of dread filled Elise’s body. Farah could never be snide, snippy, or petty. Instead, she always seemed to be incorrigibly cheerful. Maybe because she always had the opportunity to have a life and actually be someone, unlike Elise. No, the dread she felt was because Farah knew how to be persistent enough that she could always get her way.
Not seeing a response, Farah continued to talk. “Come on, Elise. You’re never going to get out of your funk if you keep lying in place like that. Every chance to improve has to start somewhere, so let’s get started by getting moving!” She could sense the energetic arm swing from her voice alone.
“That’s easy for you to say.” Elise mumbled, her voice quiet and rough.
“Well, it is easy for me. And because it is, I do what I can to make things easier for other people.” Farah’s voice moved around the room, eventually stopping close to Elise’s head. “Now come on, let’s get ready for the day!”
Elise grumbled. Stubborn as she was, she refused to let Farah have the pleasure of conceding. She pulled her legs under herself and, with great difficulty, pushed herself upright. Once as vertical as she could get herself for the time being, she finally opened her eyes in glared in Farah’s general direction.
“There we go!” Farah beamed. She was tall, curvy, and rarely without a smile on her face, plastered across brown eyes and umber skin. She’d worn a rose blouse today, one that sickeningly matched the highlights on her black hair but clashed with her worn work jeans. “I always feel better once I’m up and out of the bed.”
“Well, that’s going to be a little difficult for me, isn’t it?” Elise swung a hand around and slapped it straight into one of the twin walls of olive skin that sat heavily and placidly in front of her. The two unmoving masses of flesh, her breasts, reached down and off the bed, pooling on the floor and controlling the space in the room like pieces of furniture. They sat high enough that, even if she were to stand, she could barely see through the valley between them, much less over the tops of each breast. In fact, it was hard for her to not see them. No matter which angle she looked at, they always seemed to linger in the corners of her eyes.
Elise herself rarely looked well. From her close-cropped, wavy and unkempt brown hair to her rumpled and well-worn clothes (currently only panties and shorts), it was clear that she didn’t take too many pains to keep up her appearance, even if, every few months, the building administration brought in hair stylists and bought her new, stylish clothes for the parts of her body that could actually be clothed. She’d been told she had a cute face during school, but as puberty began to strike, fewer and fewer people found themselves appreciating her face.
“That’s why we have the carts. Once you’re up, we’ll get you to the pumps. I’ll get you breakfast while that’s running.” Farah spun on her heels, humming as she strode out of view. Elise could hear her wheel the mobility device across the wooden floor, the several metallic wheels quietly clicking against the different boards. After hearing her click them into place on the ends of the high-strength fabric-like material that was stretched under her breasts, Elise readied herself to stand on the edge of the bed. In a few moments, the carts would start lifting her off the ground and she would, temporarily, regain some sense of mobility.
Elise glanced in Farah’s general direction. Several seconds had passed and she hadn’t given the signal for her to stand. What was going on? “Farah? We doing this today or not?”
“Sorry, it’s just…” she popped up on Elise’s other side. “Looks like this cart should be sent in for maintenance. I’m kind of worried its structural integrity.” She looked deep in thought, trying to search through all the different options in the moment. “But we don’t have a heavy-duty spare on hand. Maybe if we…”
Elise moved to the edge of her bed. “Let’s just get me to the pump and then back to my bed. It’ll be fine.” She didn’t like the idea of her cart being out for maintenance- being confined to a single location by her breasts was tolerable in short bursts, but she’d vastly prefer expressing her overnight milk before settling back down again.
“Wait–”
“Look, it hasn’t broken yet. A few creaks and groans, sure, but nothing worrying. It’ll be fine. Let’s get this show on the road.” Elise got to her feet and in short order, she heard the carts click and begin lifting her burden, eventually clearing the ground after a few seconds. Her breasts bulged around the fabric that hoisted them up, but everything seemed stable. A few metal joints creaked eerily, but the device quickly settled and fell quiet. “See? Works like a charm. What were you worried about?” She stepped forward and pushed on her breasts, her hands sinking into their warm heft. There was a pliant give to them, that she lost her entire hand into their masses before they began appreciably pushing back. Her breasts, and the cart along with them, began to glide across the room. “Now lets get the–”
There was a sudden screech, then a metallic snap. She felt the cart jolt, then fall an inch to the floor, her breasts slumping down with it a fraction of a second afterwards, thumping to the ground. Elise jumped backward, some part of her trying to pull clear of the danger. It was in the following moments, as the shock waves stopped rolling through her breasts, that she slowly realized how futile that would be.
Somewhere on the other side of her breasts, Farah sprung into action. Elise could feel her hands both searching her skin to find if there were any cuts and checking to see the status of the cart. “Any pain, Elise?”
“Not feeling anything at the moment. Let me check when the adrenaline wears off.”
Farah continued her search, eventually checking Elise’s other breast, becoming less and less frantic as the seconds wore on. After a while, Elise heard Farah pull out her walkie-talkie. “Farah to Admin.”
There was a pause before a voice crackled in response. “Administration. What’s up?”
“We’ve got a broken cart. Class VI. Do we have a backup here?”
“I’ll check with our sister organizations. There aren’t many other sixes in Sta. Maria. We can see what’s out there, though. I’ll put in a repair order. Elise, right? Did you check for danger?”
“No danger for Elise.” Farah came into view. “But she’s stuck between her bed and the pump.”
“I’ll have a few workers jury-rig something for her. We can get her moved by lunch, earlier if we can get our hands on a new cart.”
“Got it. I’ll be helping her until further notice.”
Elise looked over at Farah as the latter dropped the transceiver back to her belt. “That’s it?”
“I’m afraid so. Don’t worry, I know they just got a class V cart repaired somewhere nearby, so that standby should be open for the mechanics to tinker with until we get a proper replacement.”
“–No, like…” Elise sighed. “Is there nothing else they can do for me?”
“I’m sorry to say this, but yes. Here, let me get you hooked up first, we’ll deal with things as they come.”
Elise grumbled as Farah slipped out of sight again, running off to do something with the milk pumps. When she was moved to this ground-floor apartment, they gave her a full tour of the place and talked up every single feature it had- one was that the chassis of the pumps could be unhooked from the wall and moved around; there was enough slack in the tubing that it could practically reach the whole apartment. Good news for Farah that she didn’t need to shove the whole assembly too far.
Elise grumbled and leaned forwards onto the mountains that were her tits. There wasn’t much she could do, especially since she left her phone lying on the bed, now woefully out of reach. A fist thumped listlessly against her breast, a sign of her impotent frustration. These damn things weren’t always so difficult to deal with. She first moved to Saint Mary’s back when she was in high school, and she wasn’t all that bothered about it- it was a good place to live, she had plenty of interesting neighbors who had huge tits just like her, and her rent was paid by using the large, built-in milk pump.
But as time passed, she quickly found that one part of her body always seemed to have itself set on something bigger. It was a glacial process, one that left her continuously second-guessing herself as to how big she actually was. Her clothes and the spaces around her were the only reliable metrics which she could judge her growth, and it seemed like those were simultaneously swiftly and slowly cleared. Old bras started pinching even after milking herself, doorways started feeling a bit tight… She eventually learned to leave nothing important sitting anywhere near the edge of a table or counter, lest one error in judgment sent it tumbling to the ground.
The year after she had moved in, an event she dreaded came to pass. The administrators framed it as something positive, something she should look forward to. After all, wasn’t that old apartment starting to feel a bit cramped? This new space, they promised, would be far better sized for someone like her! Her breasts had continued growing enough that she had ‘graduated’ from a grade 1 to a grade 2 apartment. To be honest, she was grateful for the larger living space, and the bump in pay, both monthly and per gallon of milk, helped soften the blow as well. But it still hurt, packing up her whole life and moving out of the space she had grown used to.
And then the next year, she did it all over again. And the next. And the next. Every year, from when she was seventeen to twenty-one, she had to move to the next higher grade of hyper habitation, shedding some of her possessions that she could no longer use- not just clothes, but even things like furniture that no longer made sense for a woman of her size- and feeling those small degrees of freedom be pruned away from her. For five straight years, she watched her life change before her very eyes.
She had a brief glimmer of hope when she turned twenty-three- while she was still growing, the year had passed without her needing to move again. Sure, she needed help from a social worker to do anything outside of her apartment, sure, she found out that she occasionally had to use a cart to help her move around the closer it got to milking time, and sure, she was basically topless 24/7 because so little could fit her and keep her modesty without tons of work and adjustments… but at least she wasn’t one of those utterly gigantic women, right…?
And now, here she was. Twenty-five and sitting in one of the two ground-floor grade 6 apartments built especially for the poor women who grew so large that moving themselves independently was a pipe dream reserved for fantasy and sci-fi. Two years ago and one floor up, she could have seen herself dragging her impertinent breasts around right after she had drained them dry, but no, she was fully incapable of moving them around nowadays without some kind of assistance. Even the small light of ‘at least there’s someone just like me next door’ was dimmed the month Elise found out that she grew bigger than her. She needed the carts to have the slightest hope of even reaching the garden out back, much less even make it to the pumps just barely out of reach of her bed.
Speaking of which, she heard the motors whir to life, then settle down. Farah must have finally shoved the pump into place. She felt an itch inside her breasts, the sound of the motors starting up reminding her body of its daily routine and her breasts starting to express its bounty. A few moments later, she felt something attach to her right nipple and begin tugging on it. The last time she’d seen them directly- outside of a photo or though a mirror- they were rubbery, baseball-sized lumps of flesh. Fast-forward to today, and some people described them as barely smaller than their heads. One social worker liked teasing her saying that she could fit a whole finger into her ducts; she was fired not too long after she started saying that.
Farah spoke up once the second flange was attached to her other side. “Alright,” she paused, still catching her breath from moving the chassis around, “that should get it running. I’ll be making breakfast until its done, let me know if something feels off.”
“Yep.” Not like I can do much else… Elise braced herself. It would start any moment now–
The overgrown milk pump beeped, and she suddenly felt the smaller motors attached to flanges spring to life, rotating around her nipples and stimulating her areolae. Elise shuddered and did everything she could to steady her breath. She could almost feel her body’s attention driving further and further forward until she felt the first streams of milk pour from her breast. She didn’t spray- her ducts were apparently too big to spray- but they gradually began gushing her milk out for the pump to suck away into its depths.
She let out a shuddering breath as she sank further forwards into her breasts. She wasn’t sure what it was- something primal in her system, the fact that she was ninety-eight percent breast, something fucked-up with her hormones, or some part of herself that wasn’t totally explored- but there was some aspect of her that loved this, that relished the feeling of expressing her milk. She found an uneasy thrill every time that a pump struggled to deal with her flow and she got an upgrade to deal with her new levels of production. She burned out a pump once just from using it, and the high she got off of that lasted her weeks.
Elise took another deep breath as another wave of satisfaction rolled across her body. A moment later, the flow of milk out of her breasts increased dramatically and the pump sped up to keep pace with her. This was her life now, being attached to and the supplier of two gigantic milk factories.
And the thing is, they still weren’t done growing. Her monthly checkups revealed that they were still packing on the pounds- graciously, it was nowhere near as quickly as they were years ago. The diagnosis was that she was finally on the tail end of her growth and that she wouldn’t get too much larger, but they still didn’t have a precise idea of how large she would be when she was done. She was already quite the case study- her doctor said that she would soon muscle her way into one of the twenty largest women in the US, something that filled her with both dread and excitement.
She was suddenly snapped into the present when Farah walked up behind her and gingerly tried to set down a tray and ’table’ into her cleavage in front of her. The ’table’ was little more than a wedge and a stabilized platform that leveraged the sheer immobility of her breasts to provide a level surface.
“Bon appétit. I’ll get started on the next batch.” Farah had set a high-piled plate of pancakes in front of Elise. Already drizzled with syrup and spread with butter, there was a wide spread of them, buttermilk, blueberry, chocolate chip… Elise’s mouth watered and she wasted no time snapping up the silverware and digging in. The mounds beneath her needed fuel for all the milk they made.
After a few mouthfuls, downed with drinks of orange juice and milk that might have been provided by Farah herself, Elise noticed something on the far corner of her tray. Four blue-and-gray capsules sat huddled together. She sighed when she recognized them and swallowed her current mouthful of waffle. Ever since she topped more than four hundred gallons of milk per day, her doctor recommended one of two different paths forward- this one required her to take this medication.
With an uneasy face, Elise downed two of the bland pills with a swig of milk. The pills themselves were a lactation suppressant- for most women, the dosage necessary to see a noticeable outcome also came with some unpleasant side effects. But, given how much of Elise was pure breast, they were able to do their work without affecting the rest of her body too much.
In another quick motion, she took the final two capsules. She’d already been put on the heaviest safe dose available, and honestly, she was thankful for that. She made incredible amounts of milk even back when these were first prescribed to her; if she weren’t taking it, part of her wondered just how much she would be making…
Actually, her doctor had mentioned potentially giving her more, since her breasts were still growing, the same dose might not be giving her the same effect after all this time. She was hesitant to do so- there was a mix of opinions about this medication, some doctors worried that giving it while a patient was still growing would encourage them to grow larger, some others merely said that it would get her to her final size faster, still others thought it wouldn’t have an effect like that on her at all.
With her medication downed, she took a moment to let things settle. She still had a bit more to go with her current tray, but her attention was again being demanded by her breasts. There was another heavy stream or two of milk pouring out of each side, and now that she was properly letting down, she was at the point where she could swear that was feeling her breasts shrink from their released products, returning to their softer, flabbier shapes and forms. It was a different kind of different, moving her breasts around after milking them- sure, they were tons lighter, but had so much more give to them.
Thankfully, with the way that the carts were constructed and how there was that carrier under her breasts, no one needed to touch her breasts to move her around. Though for Elise herself, doing so was an inevitability. She’d been managing to get elbow-deep before her breasts deigned to move lately, and the thought hadn’t skipped her mind that she could be making little lines on her arm in sharpie to gauge how things had been changing. Hell, she entertained the thought of getting a tattoo to measure how well-milked she was by how deep her arms would go…
Her thoughts were interrupted by Farah setting another plate in front of her- this one with plenty of eggs, bacon, and sausage, with a promise of more pancakes up next. Elise set upon the plates in front of her, finishing up the old plate and starting on the new one. It wasn’t a glamorous life to live, but hey, with everything going into making her life livable even with her enormous impediments, she could find a reason to keep going.
It was still going to be a pretty long day until her cart got fixed, though…