Hermea leaves and has a normal day at work, but comes back to find Sam in a rather unfortunate predicament.
Hermea closed the door behind herself. She didn’t know why, but she was slightly frustrated that the milker told her that she wasn’t putting out more milk in a day. Just yesterday, her intuition had told her that she was, but the milker just had to put a dampener on her emotions, didn’t it? Well, it wasn’t like she needed the extra milk. She reminded herself that her breasts technically were larger than the average woman’s, and her daily productivity was above average. Besides, what was she going to do with all that extra milk? It all went into her wife’s milker, anyway.
Hermea reached the stairs and started making her way down. Just like she never got used to the weight difference before and after her daily milking, the bouncing she felt as the went down this stairwell in the morning always felt a little surreal, given what her mornings felt like.
One, two, three, four floors. The stairwells in this building were so eerily quiet for how populated the building was. She knew why, given that most of the residents didn’t have the anatomy that made climbing stairs easy, but the silence in this liminal space still quietly upset her.
Soon enough, Hermea found herself exiting the building, habitualy checking that she indeed carried the key card that let her back in. Round the corner on the street, she passed dozens of people as they went about their mornings, and slipped down the stairs into the subway.
The rattling subway on its aging tracks never failed to remind Hermea of her size differences. As it shook her enough to worry about her single filling, she could also feel her chest shake and rub against the bra that it wasn’t large enough to fill. She had considered putting the bra another notch up that morning, but she didn’t have the time to make that adjustment, and she certainly wasn’t going to do this on the train. Maybe when she got to work.
The car hit a particularly bad section of track, jolting all the passengers equally. Hermea winced in sympathy as the poor hypertrophied girl on the other side of the car was thrown back into the wall behind her, a move that Sam would reference as a reason she hated taking the subway.
The car began to slow, and the speakers murmured the name of the coming station. Readying herself to depart, Hermea turned toward the doors and waited.
Hermea dropped her coat over the back of her chair and threw herself into the seat, logging in to her computer to start the day. That company finally renewed her part of the contract, and she had been unceremoniously saddled with several gigabytes worth of data to have to sift through and parse, massage and manipulate to find the results the company wanted. And all contained in Excel spreadsheets. Fun.
The research firm she worked for specialized in helping hypertrophied people (like her wife) make their lives easier, but the companies that outsourced their R&D to them were scattered all across the board. Each quarter was a new adventure for her to see what the rotation of companies that this firm was contracted to wanted. A new “portable” milker that had an abysmal milk storage system, a “revolutionary” (“barely tested”) and “exciting” (“malfunction-prone”) waterbed that could soak up overnight milk (God, that one was a disaster waiting to happen), an ill-fated pill that was supposed to help boost milk production for commercial purposes (why they didn’t just hook up to the output of a single Hyper Program building was beyond both her and her coworkers).
Hermea cracked her knuckles, rolled her shoulders, and settled in to the daily grind of dealing with a massive amount of data.
Hermea leaned back in her chair. Her bra had finally started to bug her enough with its mild pinching, and she had only managed to clean up the data in one of these spreadsheets. She paused as she saw her coworker set a cup of coffee next to her. He was a thin man, with black hair and plenty of scruff around his face. His plaid shirt had overlaid colors that almost managed to be presentable, but certainly drew attention away from the bulge on his beige pants that marked him as part of the hypertrophied population.
“Thanks, John.” She smiled as the picked up the cup and took a sip. “How’s work going?”
<Not great,> John signed after setting his cup down, <but at least there’s progress. Things would go faster if they had actual data standards.>
“Ugh, I know how you’re feeling. It’s like they’re trying to make things as hard as possible for us.”
<Did you hear about our visitor today?>
“A visitor? Awfully short notice, isn’t it. Unless it’s…?” John nodded. “Really? Why are they bringing June around?”
John shrugged.
“Well, I hope that doesn’t take up all her time here. Rather disappointing, flying someone a thousand miles just for a brief meeting.”
<I don’t think it’s just a brief meeting. They wanted her here to work on something.>
“Huh. Wonder what’s so important to pull her away from her projects.”
<I don’t know. Probably another flop, knowing some of them.>
“Well, thanks for letting me know. Don’t let me keep you from your work.” She smiled as John dramatically rolled his eyes, then turned to leave, giving a last wave before disappearing around the corner.
Hermea returned the wave, then turned back to her computer, then reconsidered and turned to her bra. Her cubicle was fairly isolated from her neighbors, so she didn’t necessarily need to adjust her bra in the bathroom, right? Either way, she wasn’t fond of having to walk all that way for something as quick as this.
She nudged her blouse out of the way and reached to one side of her bra. With a practiced move, she nudged first one strap a little lower, then the other. She re-settled her breasts so that they didn’t sit so high and pool over the fabric. Her productivity was a slow and steady one throughout the day, and that demanded that she, like any other woman in the world, make quick and subtle adjustments to her bra throughout the day. It was a little more frequent for her, given her larger-than-average size, but she just understood this as coming with the territory.
Just as she was about to return to work, she paused and checked over she shoulders again. A wall to her back and privacy barriers to her sides. If she played her cards right…
Hermea quickly pulled the neckline of her shirt down and fished out a boob. Carefully, cup in one hand and nipple in the other, she pulled a brief streams of milk into the cup and set the cup back down, slipping her breast back into its position.
Ignoring the mild demand for similar release from her other side, the returned to work as she sipped the slightly sweeter coffee.
Hermea sighed as the leaned back in her chair. Her bra, back, and shoulders were killing her. Yes, it was probably a mistake to take so large of a lunch. Yes, she had been sitting here for hours and hadn’t paused to re-adjust herself since this morning. Yes, her posture was horrible. But she had been in the zone, and actually made quite some progress on the pile of work that had been assigned to her. Unfortunately, her body was now questioning her decision to not take a break and deal with her other bodily needs in this time. Fine, this was a problem she could deal–
A sneeze from right behind her made Hermea jump. Considering no one worked behind her, and that her corner of the office didn’t have a lot of foot traffic, she wasn’t expecting someone to be around here.
“Guh. Sorry.” Hermea knew that voice.
“June!” She spun around and stood, smiling at the old friend.
June was not as sunny as her name implied. She never wore any bright clothes, and her lab jacket that she usually wore always had some singular stain in an odd color somewhere where it didn’t make sense. Her skin was always pale and slightly gray, as though she were constantly sick. Her smoking habit probably didn’t help her too much in that regard, making her voice tough and gravelly, enough for some people to confuse her for a man.
To be fair, it’s not like her lack of chest was helping matters. Where even the smallest of regular women at least could fill a hand on each side, June simply had nothing to speak of. She had explained the genetic/developmental reasons to both Hermea and Sam at their apartment one night over wine, but Hermea couldn’t tell the pentasyllabic (or longer!) hormone names apart through her drinks. Something about her being totally unable to pick up the hormonal signal that signals her body to stop the growth, which was also a precursor to the signal to start growth? She still couldn’t understand it.
That was also the thing with June. She had the mind you only found once a generation. Maybe more often, considering the modern education system, but still. Her mind picked up on so many topics and lessons, it made Hermea’s head spin. Her favorite introduction line was to list off the sheer number of degrees, bachelors, masters, and doctorates, then ending it with “but please, just call me June”. She was a thing to behold when she was focusing on her work, but she specifically needed people to tear her away from her work when she started to wear herself down.
June smiled as Hermea’s face lit up. “Don’ you look too happy to see me. I tried to spook ya’.”
“Well, nice to meet you, too! I’ve been looking for an excuse to take a break.” Hermea hugged June, something that she knew the latter barely tolerated for her close friends.
“Mm. You know where the balconies are in this building? I don’ wanna have to go all the way to the ground floor to use these cancer sticks.”
“Yeah, come on, follow me.”
Hermea showed her out to the outdoor lunch area that overlooked the bay. As June lit her cigarette against the winds, Hermea took the time to adjust her bra like she had earlier in the day. She frowned as she did so, repeating the process to get a better fit. God, these things liked to get so big quick, didn’t they? She sighed, leaning forward, and noted that her breasts touched the railing, something they never did during the company-mandated “optional” lunches.
“Hope you’re not trying to show off to all and sundry or brag to me, because I could care less about all that.”
“Sorry. I didn’t take care of that earlier in the day, and I know you don’t really mind.”
“Ah, you don’t need to apologize.” June waved Hermea’s concerns off. “Only ones that need to are the discontented suits that pulled me over here to develop a sex pill for their shortcomings beneath the belt and above the band.”
Hermea rose an eyebrow. “…Didn’t they make you sign an NDA?”
“None of those silly little things in my contracts. Anyway, this chick asked me to make something that would allow her to- get this- let her build up her milk for an entire month. Maybe kick up her production a notch, too.”
“What?” Hermea let out a small laugh. “Why would you…?”
“Beats me. Rich people get too bored with their money, I suppose. Didn’t tell them I had already developed something like that for someone else. Hello, six free months and a cool seven mil.”
“‘Something like that’? This is common for you?”
“Nah. Some other suits had asked for something to seal her nips for a week, someone else asked to be able to turn her trickles into streams. I figure I mix those two and change their strengths, and boom,” she snapped her fingers, “contract complete. Keeping some of the guinea pigs quiet may take some extra funds, though. Least nothing’s permanent, so they shouldn’t complain so much.”
Hermea shook her head. “Just casually screwing with biology, aren’t you?” She suddenly stopped as a connection formed in her head. “Wait, hang on. The second thing you mentioned. It increases milk supply, doesn’t it?” June nodded. “Was it called Afxisolactea?”
June raised an eyebrow. “…And how did you hear of this?”
“I went through the tests for that drug! Everyone kept wondering why this was a thing in the first place!”
“Hrmph. Well, there you go. Blame an insecure, horny CEO for that mistake.”
“…Do you remember who it was?”
June stared off into the distance as she let out a cloud of smoke. “Sounded Greek. Lizzie-something? Can’t remember.”
The two of them continued to talk for a while, catching up on each other’s lives. Before Hermea knew it, five o’clock had rolled around.
“Well, it’s been nice talking with you again. Shame it has to be because of these circumstances.”
“Oh, I’m not heading back yet. Someone else wanted to borrow my ’expertise’. Heard through the grapevine that their daughter’s gonna be a Hyper, and these ‘caring parents’ want a special pump for her.”
“Well, it’s nice to hear you’ll be around. What are you going to do?”
“Probably re-use my old design, slap a new exterior on it. What they won’t know won’t hurt them.”
Hermea chuckled. “Ugh, not looking to explaining why I didn’t get as much work done today to my boss.”
“Pfft. Fuck them.” She put out her cigarette as she stepped inside. “Can’t have you working all the time. Besides, they can’t pay you anywhere near enough to care.”
“June—”
“I mean, look at me. I get paid millions per job, do I look like I care about my clients?”
“Your clients need you. They don’t need me.”
“Mm.” June landed a hand on Hermea’s shoulder. “Well, I’m not going to try and preach to you here. Let me know when you’re open in the next few days, just not today or tomorrow. Love to catch up with Sammy, too.”
“We can try and make something work. I’ll talk with her”
“Thanks. Make sure she’s full, I’ll be bringing the churn around.”
Hermea sighed. “Can’t you just get milk like a normal person?”
“Hey, I can’t help it if I like your wife’s milk. ‘Sides, not like she uses it all.”
“Love you too, June.” Hermea said, pointedly. “Have a nice day.”
June chuckled. “‘Ta.”
Hermea’s journey back to her apartment was routine. Two blocks to the station, wait five minutes, get on. Keep her urges in check as the rails that really should have been replaced two years ago shake and jostle her endowments and test the strength of her bra. Catch herself fantasizing about playing with them when she gets home and stop herself from being too engorged when she gets around to pumping in the morning. Get off at her stop. Get to the building. Climb the stairs and indulge herself a little with those thoughts, reflecting on how much bigger they get not even past one day. Get to her floor. Get to her door. Unlock and open the door, and greet her–
Huh.
Her adoring wife wasn’t sitting at the table, staring at the laptop’s screen and cursing to herself every few seconds. Sure, the laptop was open, but Sam was nowhere to be seen. Furrowing her brow, Hermea closed the door behind her and listened. She heard, at the far end of the apartment, Sam swearing to herself. Why she would be doing that away from the computer instead of at it was beyond her. She decided to investigate.
Before she stepped out of the room, she saw something out of the corner of her eye and paused to look closer. On either side of Sam’s laptop were puddles of milk, and not small ones. Hermea also noticed that the table was pushed off of its original location (aligned to the floor tiles) by an inch or so. And that it was pushed away from where Sam had been sitting.
Oh, this wasn’t good.
Hermea moved at a pace that could generously be called a jog, and cynically be called a hurried walk towards the bathroom, where Sam’s swearing came from. As she turned the final corner, she saw, well…
Sam normally wasn’t a small girl in the chest department. It was actually kind of difficult to tell whether she was empty or full even in the best of times. Hermea spent years with Sam, and even the former had trouble telling how full she was at times. When you have that much bulk, what difference does a little more to the pile make?
You couldn’t say that here.
If Sam was huge before, she was massive now. Her swells sat fat and full in front of her body, pressed up against the wall as much as you could for giant boobs that size, the milking nozzles sitting at an awkward angle against the wall and floor. Behind them sat Sam, halfway between resting on top of them and kneeling behind them, cursing like a sailor as a single arm stretched as far as it could towards the controls; specifically, the start button.
She had gotten everything set up, but she couldn’t start the machine because her tits were too massive.
Hermea noted the situation for her future fantasies.
Sam jumped, suddenly noticing that there was someone else in the room besides her. For a moment, she was too shocked to do anything but stare, but warned her wife when she recovered.
“Don’t.”
“I wasn’t–”
“Don’t. I can do this. I don’t need help with this.” Sam set her teeth, determined to be able to reach the button that was inches from the tips of her fingers.
“Well—”
“Don’t!”
“I wasn’t going to do anything!” Hermea said defensively. “I was just going to point something out.”
Sam paused. “Huh?”
“Well, the plunger is right behind you, so…”
Sam tilted her head, then glanced behind herself. “W– What does that… Oh my fucking God.”
In a way only Sam could do, she easily reached behind herself with her foot, grabbed the plunger between her toes, passed it to her hands, and easily flipped the milker’s power switch to “on” with about a foot of arm length to spare.
Sam’s head fell into her cleavage. “I can’t believe myself.”
“Well, look at it this way,” Hermea suggested, “at least you won’t get caught like this next time.”
Sam’s grip on the plunger tightened. “But I never allow myself to get into these kinds of situations.”
Hermea sighed. Sam needed a distraction. “Well, maybe.” She pulled the plunger from Sam’s hand and set it back where it sat before. “You know, something caught my attention.” She moved to the front of Sam, swinging a leg over her breasts to get comfortable, the positioning of the two making her briefly worry that she gave away her ploy. “Something must have really riled you up today,” Hermea ran her right hand along the wide curve of her wife’s breasts, “enough to shift the kitchen table and make you leak in the kitchen.” Sam started to look away, but Hermea led the gaze back to her with her other hand. “Do you want to talk about what it was?”
~
“But Hemmie, I’m pumping–” Sam’s hesitant speech was stopped by a finger to her lips.
“It’s a good thing that you’ll be getting it out of you soon, then. Don’t worry,” she unfastened her skirt and started pulling her panties down, “I’ll do what I can to make it worth the extra time. Now,” she brushed a thumb across Sam’s cheek as she cradled her face, “what could have possibly made you this riled up?”
“It’s…” Sam swallowed, “it’s related to the dreams I’ve been having.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I’ve– they’re about us.” Hermea noticed one of Sam’s hands moving further south, and that the breasts she was sitting on were subtly changing consistency. The latter was a good or bad sign, depending on whether or not you were the one cleaning up. “In them, we’re…” Sam’s other hand was starting to pull Hermea’s clothes out of the way. “We’re just like this, you’re sitting right in front of me, but I’m– I’m…”
Sam stopped telling Hermea about her dreams, and started showing her. Hermea, while initially surprised, quickly took to this method of conveyance.
Neither of them were strangers to oral, but Sam was frustratingly better with her mouth, whether she had in Hermea’s breasts or- like now- between her legs. She had already the hood back and was teasing it around with her tongue before Hermea could properly react- though the sensations had probably slowed her reactions.
As Sam continued her relentless assault, Hermea felt a gentle tingle spread through her chest and her bra tighten slightly. With one hand keeping Sam’s head in place, urging her further along in her actions, Hermea pulled her shirt up and fumbled with the clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts that had just filled up enough to start making the bra’s current size a little restrictive.
A long, slow pull by Sam snapped Hermea back into the action. The longer she kept this running, the longer Sam would be waiting. She played with her nipples, drawing streams from her slowly growing stock. The pump behind her was drawing more in a second than she would be expressing today, but that wasn’t important right now. She focused on teasing her nipples, testing how much her breasts could produce–
Hermea’s thoughts fled her mind as an orgasm slammed into her, then a second, making her involuntarily wrap her body around Sam’s head. After a moment to let herself regain most of the feeling in her limbs, she untangled herself and looked down at Sam’s smiling face.
“I think those dreams have been giving you too much practice,” Hermea said between breaths. “You’re going to make me feel inadequate.” She pulled a leg over Sam’s head and stood up shakily.
“Oh? And what if I am?” Sam shifted her legs forward and pushed her ass into the air.
“What, you’re going to punish me for that?”
“You bet I will.” Hermea dropped down right next to Sam. Sure, Sam had her mouth, but Hermea had her hands. She wrapped an arm around Sam, keeping her from squirming away from her lesson, and pushed with her other.
Sam’s reaction was quick, grabbing on to the expanses of her breasts she could reach and sinking into their masses. Beyond them, Hermea could hear the pumps begin to struggle to keep up with Sam’s increasing output.
“H-Harder!” Sam squeaked.
“Huh?” Hermea played coy, “What do you–?”
“Fuck me harder, Hermea!”
Hermea blinked. Sam was rarely so direct and commanding, much less one to yell. Best to keep things moving- her own breasts weren’t sitting comfortably in the bra dangling over them.
Thankfully, she didn’t have to keep pushing for long- Sam’s high-pitched noises reached a crescendo, then another, then a third. Hermea pulled her hands back as Sam slowly sank down to the floor in a puddle- a small amount of which coming from each of their breasts. Hermea turned to pull out a towel to start cleaning both of them off.
“Y–” Sam breathed, “You’re such a wonderful person, Hermea.”
Hermea patted Sam on her breasts. “Thank you, darling,” she pointed toward the pump, “but you’re still cleaning up your milk.”
The smile on Sam’s face evaporated, and she let her head drop into her cleavage.
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