A late blooming hyper finds out how difficult having large breasts can be.

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Summer glared down at the pump in her hands as she removed one of the detachable reservoirs and dumped its contents into the sink, jamming it back in afterwards. She let out a deep sigh as the pump continued to struggle on from the other side of her breasts, emitting a hum whose pitch she was slowly getting used to.

Summer was- well, normally was- a rather sunny person. Nominative determinism, she supposed. Whenever she first met someone, they would, without fail, quip at how her wavy blonde hair and fair skin fit her and then later comment on her matching demeanor. Problem was, she hadn’t been like this at all lately, and it was all because of–

A knock from the front door shook her from her torpor. “It’s unlocked,” she called out from the kitchen. She wasn’t in the mood for visitors, but they were going to arrive whether she wanted them to or not.

The door opened gingerly, and through it stepped Gina. For the briefest moment, Summer felt her features soften. The two had been fast friends ever since high school. Their time apart at college hadn’t rusted their friendship, and they found themselves quickly reconnecting after finding themselves back in this small town.

Gina wasn’t too dissimilar from Summer. She was on the taller side and had her brown, braided hair trailed most of the way down her back. But, being a hyper, there was one thing on her body that was particularly notable- her tits, each of which reached well past her belly button.

Summer, for her part, had her curves here and there, but things had changed recently. Her chest, once generous, had seemingly decided puberty hadn’t gone far enough. In the past few months, she found her bustline had grown day after day after day, from perfectly passable to moderately large to ‘hey, are you sure you’re not a hyper?’, all the while her milk supply keeping in lockstep.

“How are you holding up?” Gina’s voice shook Summer from her gloom. She could hear the caution in the former’s voice.

She sighed. “Just peachy, why do you ask.” The reply was as flat as she wasn’t.

“You didn’t even say ‘hi’ to me.” Gina crossed her arms over her bust. “I know you’re upset, and you know how I rant at you to get things straight. Would doing that help–?” She cut herself off.

“I swear, if you were going to say ‘help get things off my chest’…” Summer had trouble hiding her smile.

She let out a quiet laugh. “Guilty as charged. Crossed my mind at the last second that it might be… taken the wrong way.” She paused, a hand nervously toying with an errant lock of her hair. “I’m sorry I’m not much help. I would have offered to bring my pump, but…”

“Yeah, being built in a wall kind of means it’s not portable.” Much as she hated to admit it, Summer was starting to feel like herself again, bit by bit.

Gina pulled out a chair from the nearby table. “So, want to give the rant a try?”

Summer’s smile faded slightly as she looked down at her chest. She took a handful to try and figure out how much further she had to pump. If only she actually had some reference to know how close she was. “I still got a while to go. Why the fuck not.”

“What’s the first thing that upset you?”

“Having to throw out clothes. You know that really cute pink camisole?”

“The nice one your sister got you?”

“Yeah. A seam burst under the armpit, First thing that broke. I tried repairing it, but it just broke a week later.”

“Damn. You still have it?”

“No,” Summer sighed, “I gave it away, like three-fourths of my shirts. Same fucking pattern- ‘hey this shirt will still work!’, ‘Whoops, gave out over breakfast, or lunch, or during a class’. Had one that audibly ripped during class, and another that just ripped itself in two as I was taking it off for bed.”

“Mm. Speaking of things that got busted–”

“Yep, had to buy a whole new set of bras. Third time now.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“Didn’t need you to. Half of my college friends asked the same fucking questions- and why the hell were most of the guys holding off asking those questions? It’d be funny if it weren’t so annoying! ‘Hey, blow the hooks off a bra yet?’ ‘Have those tits thrown their weight around yet?’ ‘Finally regretting those back-clasps?’ ‘How many clasps have you busted?’ Like, Jesus! Give a girl’s tits some rest! I’m still torn up over having to toss Big Red.”

“And have they gotten, eh, off your…” Gina had that look.

Summer glared in as semi-playful a way she could. “Clever. Haven’t heard that one a thousand times lately. Yes, they’ve stopped by now, but I’m still struggling to get used to these things. Bras are a nightmare, not just because every day is a scare over ‘do I need a new set of bras already’, but getting the girls corralled into a bra is halfway to impossible. And yeah, I know, you don’t think your boobs are the size they are when they’re stuffed with milk, but this is after I’ve pumped. They should be at their most predictable, and I’m still finding myself guessing their size.”

“Speaking of guessing their size…”

“What, does everyone start asking how big they are?”

“The weirdos do, not gonna lie, but I wasn’t talking about that. There was no end to me boob-checking door frames, the fridge, furniture…” Gina glanced away, “people…”

“That happened to me a few times. I just give everything a very wide berth.”

“And try not to turn around too fast.”

“Yeah. Learned that one the hard way. Not that he minded.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Damon learned very quickly to give big-titted women some space.”

“Or, rather, to stick close to them.”

“Well, no. If something’s too close, I’ll notice it. Like I said, he quickly gave some space, but not a lot.”

“Figures.”

“Speaking of hiding in their shadow, I keep feeling like I’m going insane when something decides to hide itself underneath them. Notepads, pencils, pens, papers…”

“Just stick it in between ’em and don’t let them slip underneath. Problem solved.”

“Yeah, no. I remember that one pen exploding in there and staining my good white bra. Never again. Trisha caused one escapade, and I’m not letting you cause another.”

“Oh, what’d Trisha do?”

“She somehow stuck a post-it note underneath my tits before I went to work! ‘Shh! She doesn’t know I’m here!’ I only saw it when I went to the bathroom!”

Gina rocked back in her chair guffawing with laughter, only snapping out of it when the chair threatened to tip over with her. “Okay, no, I’m sorry, but that’s funny. You’ve been forcibly inducted into the hyper community.”

Summer rolled her eyes. “Great. What are the benefits?”

“The unending stares of the public, people constantly misunderstanding you, inordinate clothing prices, all the things you already complained about, all the milk you could ever want…”

“Really? Really? You honestly think I needed more of what these things,” Summer grabbed a handful of each tit, “could make? Hell, I thought I spent enough time attached to those pumps before this whole debacle, but now I feel like I have to sit here an hour every session!”

“An hour? I wouldn’t think the pump’s that bad, but you definitely don’t make that much.”

“Well, no, but I keep thinking ‘hey, it’s not that bad right now, I can skip a milking session’–”

“Well, don’t do that.”

“I know that now, but in the moment, when I’m in the middle of drawing something, do you think I wanna just drop everything and lug out my pump?”

“I mean, you have to. Like it or not, the girls don’t slow down for you. You know, I was the same way before my mom got me a new pump- wasn’t as powerful as my home pump, but it did the job at the time. How about you and I look for one for you later today? How’s that sound?”

Summer sighed. “You’re not going to let me say no.”

“Damn right I’m not. How about I bake you something to cheer you up? I know you don’t like bribes all that much…”

“I can make an exception.”

“‘Atta girl. Can you hand me some milk?”

“I dumped it recently, there’s not much there.”

“You dumped it? Don’t you recycle your milk?”

“You think I can drink that much at once?”

“You can save it for later.”

“Excuse you? When I get an excuse to lose that stomach fat, I am taking it and not looking back. I will be glad to let those calories go down the drain.”

“Fine. I’ll wait until you dump again. I’ll get everything else ready. But I get to lick the mixing bowl.”

Summer smiled. “Fine, fuck you too.”