When Catherine decides to wean her child, Nick, her husband, is a bit disappointed. But things take a strange turn…

Commissioned by someone who wishes to remains anonymous. BE + LAC.

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“I think I should start weaning him.”

About a week ago, those words sat heavily on Nick’s heart. To him, it was the end of a chapter, a lost chance for him to fulfill one of his largest fantasies. He didn’t hold a grudge, but he was at least somewhat sad to see it go. The world had to go on, and he didn’t want to force things to go his way. All that time ago, he had slowly let go of that hope, expecting the window had closed.

How little he knew.

It started a few days after that. Nick had been noticing that Catherine had been acting… odd, ever since she told him about her intentions. It was small, almost imperceptible at the beginning. She had a habit of adjusting her bra more the closer she was to pumping, which she certainly did so a lot more recently. He had figured that it was just her trying to adjust to a new pumping schedule. The fact that she was doing this more than she was before could be chalked up to her having more time to let the milk build up, right?

Then there was the spillage. She had been quite reluctant to get her newest set of bras (a D-cup, he found, after she almost kept the shopping trip a secret), and adamantly refused to grab something a size up. This meant that Nick had plenty of opportunities to get a few eyefuls as the day went on, as her breasts fought more and more against their constraints through the day.

There were other, smaller things. How she winced when she moved her shoulders a certain way when she was more full, how she wore a more exasperated face and reached for the milk pads when their child cried, how full the bottles were when she detached them from the pumps and moved them to the fridge. He had noticed all of these things in the past year because of his interests, but he had also almost gotten used to them, letting the specifics fade into the background.

Which made him start questioning himself when he swore he saw things change.

Had she adjusted her bra that much before? Was it just that she was pumping less often? Did Catherine’s breasts really spill over her bra that much, or were his eyes playing tricks on him? Nick noticed a few times that she was trying to hide the bottles from his eyes when stowing them away, and sure, their levels did seem a little higher, but wasn’t that explained by the changed schedule?

He kept doubting himself until one night, when Catherine cleared the plates from their dinner table. Just as she leaned down slightly, he saw it. Once before, he had seen this exact scene in front of him.

The two of them had taken a two-day trip to be by themselves for a while, and got a friend to keep an eye on their kid for the time being. They both enjoyed their time together, but when it was time for her to pump after the long day, she found the pump unresponsive. He had figured that it was her stubbornness that kept herself from squeezing it out (or even asking him to do the honors, or better yet, take a drink), but the result was the same- an enticingly over-stressed bra jiggling and struggling to keep the tide of her breasts at bay as they sped down the poorly-maintained highway.

He had burned the scene into his mind, thinking it would never happen to him again. Yet here it was, right in front of his eyes. That impossible, unattainable size.

He diverted his gaze as she looked up, narrowly dodging a looming lecture. Try as he might to clear his mind of the thoughts, they burned and buzzed in his mind. How was this possible? This wasn’t supposed to happen. He knew she would remember to pump; she swore up and down that she would never let something like that happen again.

As she turned, he caught a glance at its profile. There it was again, the tantalizing way the poor bra bit into her skin, how her pleading nipples stuck into the fabric… It was all too real, and this wasn’t normal.

But how should he bring this up to her?

–

As it turned out, Nick kept juggling this question in his mind over and over for the next few days as he gathered more and more evidence that something was wrong. He started to question if it was his imagination, if her bras were seemingly fitting more and more poorly. To answer this, he started slipping down to the refrigerator just before bed, and took a photo of the milk bottles. As he scanned through the photos as he returned to the bed, he found with increasing conviction the evidence his he deeply wanted. There was definitely more in the more recent photos than the oldest one.

He let out a breath. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would try and casually ask how the weaning thing was going. It had been, what, two weeks now? That could be chalked up to a casual interest, right? Maybe he could play it off with the realization that things might not be going too well, since weaning is supposed to decrease one’s milk supply, not increase it. He swallowed, hard. Definitely tomorrow.

–

Nick stopped in his tracks at the entrance to the master bathroom. Catherine was brushing her teeth, staring off into the distance. In the privacy of their own house and bathroom, she was free (and liked) to be shirtless in the mornings, saving putting on her restrictive blouses for last. This gave Nick ample time to admire her from afar, and today gave him time to realize something odd.

This was a new bra. As he approached her side and prepared to brush his teeth, he noticed to his slight dismay that it fit somewhat well, with her not overflowing the red bra by much. This was far from what it was like a few months ago, but certainly not what he had been seeing in the past week.

“If you’re trying to stay discreet while staring at them, you’re not succeeding.”

Nick jumped at her words. “I-I’m sorry. I–”

“Save it.” She spit out her toothpaste, quickly rinsed her toothbrush, then turned and left the bathroom. “I had to get something two sizes up. It’s not for staring at.”

Nick nearly choked on his toothbrush. Two sizes up? She had been overfilling her bras, and by enough to need–! By God*,* if this wasn’t one of his dearest fantasies coming to life…

He was going to need a few minutes to himself before heading to work, that was for sure.

–

Nick was smart enough to avoid irritating Catherine any further than necessary. The days after the discovery were a tense fight from within himself between wanting to know ever more about the mystery with Catherine and respecting her boundaries. Every morning and night, he had heard the pump chug along for an eternity of minutes that tested his resolve. His fantasies suggested that she was taking longer now than when she said she would be weaning their kid, but he wasn’t sure he could prove that. He only had his memory and imagination, and the latter was speaking to him more than the former.

Thankfully, he didn’t need to wait long for proof to almost be all but delivered to him.

–

A week after he found out that his wife had caved and gotten a new set of bras, Nick had almost run into her as she left the bathroom, with her carrying everything she’d need to pump: pads, a towel, the breast pump itself, but all these items were framed around one thing: the same red bra she had been wearing, and her breasts testing the limits of its prison with the same ferocity that they tested their earlier, smaller boundaries so long ago. Had she outgrown this bra, too?

Unfortunately, his staring had not gone unnoticed. “Hey.” It wasn’t the word, but the tone that made him flinch. He thought he knew what was coming. “You can’t…” Catherine paused, “You can’t keep your eyes off of them, can you?” Nick hesitated. He had heard those words from her in that order before, but not with that tone. Shocked, he glanced up to meet Catherine’s eyes. “The Hell? –I…” She looked away, seemingly caught off guard as well.

“You feeling all right?”

“Y– Yeah, I mean it’s really weird but…” It was only the briefest of glances down by Nick, but she caught it. Instinctively, he looked away, but she had other plans. Her hands darted out, grabbing both sides of his face and pulling his gaze back at her cleavage. “Don’t. Look. Away.” Her breathing was more heavy than normal and there was a blush on her cheeks that wasn’t there before.

“Honey, what’s going on?” Nick didn’t know how to respond that would make her the least upset.

“I’m fine. I–” She closed her eyes and took a breath, letting go of his face. “I’ve been feeling… not off, just like… this ever since I started weaning. But it doesn’t feel wrong, it just feels…” She paused, taking a shuddering breath. “Darling,” she opened her eyes, “would you mind lying down on the bed quick?” She took a few bold steps forward, nudging him towards cooperation.

“Alright, alright, just give me a sec–!” Backing off, Nick bumped into the edge of his bed and fell backwards onto it.

In one swift move, she was on him, undoing his belt and unbuttoning his pants. “I’ve been feeling like this when pumping after I started weaning. I could ignore these feelings at first, but nothing could relieve me of them. Pumping made it worse, and feeding him made me want to have you in his place.” With his cock out, she made a quick move at the clasp of her bra to let her breasts tumble out. “I know you want to drink from them, honey. I want that, too. But I need to do this first.”

Without waiting for a response, she leaned forward and plunged his hardening dick into the depths of her cleavage. Her newer size made the act effortless, the plush yet firm masses almost all to willing to trap and engulf. She paused for a moment, reveling in the moment, before returning to her ministrations.

“God,” she moaned, “I know it’s been a while, honey, but I don’t remember it feeling this… Right? Good? I don’t know if it’s milk that’s been telling me this, but I’ve been putting this off far too long.”

Nick was struggling to keep things together. The sensations hit him strong from the first stroke, and were almost overpowering his mental fortitude, constantly putting him under threat of being sent over the edge. He noticed- to his delight or horror, he couldn’t tell- the glint in Catherine’s eyes. She knew full well what her effects were, and she was reveling in his reactions.

“B-Catherine,” Nick managed to stammer out, “I’m gonna–”

She smiled. “Good. Let it all out.” With that, she slammed her tits down all the way to the hilt.

Nick almost blacked out from the pleasure. Dimly, he saw himself releasing shot after shot of cum into and out from between her breasts. Load after load pooled on her cleavage and the more powerful shots painted disorganized lines across her tits. Eventually, the crashing waves of pleasure subsided and Nick lay there, drained and gasping for breath.

“You made quite the mess, didn’t you?” Catherine pulled back, eliciting an aftershock of pleasure. Nick boggled at the amount of cum that drenched all over her- had he really released all of that at once?

Catherine reached towards her discarded pumping materials and pulled out the towel, clearing away most of the cum that threatened to land somewhere stainable. After another moment of recovery, Nick found within himself the stamina to pull himself upright. Closing his eyes and taking a few breaths, trying to piece together what had happened through his sluggish thoughts. His wife, who had been rather hands-off since late pregnancy, had seemingly flipped to a full sexual appetite in the span of a few minutes, and confessed that she had been holding back these sensations while she had been–

Hang on. Why was his face so warm?

He opened his eyes to find his field of view taken up by a pair of breasts whose texture was familiar but whose size was not.

“You let out so much,” Catherine cooed as she wrapped her arms around his head, “it’d be a shame if I didn’t repay your kindness. Besides,” she pulled his head closer to her left nipple as it throbbed eagerly, a few pearls of milk beginning to form in anticipation, “you wouldn’t leave your poor wife backed-up and unfulfilled, right?”

Nick didn’t need to be encouraged to fulfill his fantasies, much less be teased about it. He opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the warm nipple, giving a gentle suck as a request. A few trickles of milk came as a response, which quickly gave way to a stream and then a flood. He tried to savor it- the sweetness, the calming warmth, the succor of intimacy- but the breast in his face was excitedly pouring milk into his mouth, threatening to overflow and spill out.

For her part, Catherine wasn’t helping matters. Her breaths were shallow and rapid, a mere sign of her excitement. One hand traced idle patterns in Nick’s hair as the other gently squeezed the side of her breast in an unnecessary attempt to express more milk. Her eyes were closed as she savored every sensation coursing through her body.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she said, her following words making it clear she wasn’t aware of just how much milk she was expressing, “I need to– ah! – deal with this. Keep– keep sucking!” The hand stopped squeezing her breast, slipping south to take care of her lower needs.

With little other recourse, Nick tried to redouble his efforts in drinking down the milk. As the seconds marched on, the nipple seemed to take his actions as a challenge, gushing out its bounty as quickly as he could drink it down. Slowly, he could feel the consistency of the milk change, from watery yet sweet to creamy and thick. The flow ebbed slightly, giving him proper time to savor the taste and warmth as it filled his mouth and eased down his throat.

Meanwhile, Catherine was losing herself in the moment. He felt her edging closer and closer to her own orgasm, and right as she began to reach the precipice…

She suddenly knocked forward into him as though the orgasm physically moved her, pulling the nipple out of his mouth and sending a final spay of milk onto his face as they both tumbled onto the bed. As she lay there recovering for a few seconds, Nick turned his head so he could breathe, since her breast, even emptied though it was, was large enough to smother his entire face in its sheer mass. He could feel it leak irregularly leak a few drops, almost as though it were disappointed in the interruption.

After a few seconds of her recovery, with shaky arms and legs, she hoisted herself up off of him and gave an exhausted yet not fully finished leer.

“A-are you up for round two? My right side’s feeling a little lonely…”

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