BakersDozen101
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- Joined
- Oct 14, 2011
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"This can't be real," she thought. Her mind was troubled like never before. "My dress is tight." Her usually invisible A-cup boobs, instead of being flat and non-existent, were big and bulbously spread across her chest, fourteen pounds each and nearly sitting in her lap. She couldn't see over them or see the belt loops of her dress which usually were plainly visible. This was a terrifying feeling and yet one that was accompanied by drowsiness and opaqueness. It was such a weird feeling. Besides the distortion, she still had the body of a young, fit woman. She was 25 years old and a symbol of health with a trim figure and bright blue eyes. When she lifted her hands, they bumped into the sides of her breasts. "This isn't right." Her foggy head barely understood. Something heavy sat on her. She had just woken up from a nap and wasn't in a state of mind that could add two plus two let alone understand something as strange as this. Suddenly she leaned forward expecting the weight to fall off of her but instead her breasts toppled down big and huge and all at once. The weight dropped in wobbly bounces of great soft pounds. She nearly fell over. It was as if she had tried to jump while holding a medicine ball without realizing that she was holding it. Her shoulders and spine seized painfully. The weight was too much for the nerves of her tiny body so she fell back into the couch reflexively, out of fear and instinct and was unfortunately almost knocked back out by the impact of her breasts slamming her chest. Thankfully the couch cushioned her. There was a loud soft clap like a cartoon punch. "Oooh," she grunted, her eyes blinking suddenly, rapidly.
Just then her sister Keke arrived, a dainty-pink clad girl bearing food in her hands. "I got you some soup!" she said chipper as ever.
Layla, our story's heroine, turned to Kiki. "There's something wrong," she said, her hands wandering in front of her as if she was too nervous to rest them and come in contact with the freaky hugeness under them.
"What is it?" Kiki asked. She unwrapped the straw of her drink. It was a beautiful summer evening and the hot soup went well with the cool breeze.
"I...I," Layla stammered. She stared off at the wall. "...don't feel well."
"Feel bloated?"
"Yeah," she said glumly.
Kiki popped the lid of her soup and start sipping. "Oh my God this is so good. Well, have some soup. It's light."
Layla felt nervous to tell Kiki that she felt like her breast had grown enormously in her sleep. She watched her sister eat and looked longingly at her slim figure, the same figure she's was supposed to have. "I love that dress on you," she said.
"Thank you! I got it for eight bucks at Walmart. Can you believe that?"
Layla's breast shook even though she was practically motionless. The tugging pain set into her shoulders made her feel like she couldn't just roll the weight off of her.
"Aren't you going to have your soup?" Kiki asked.
"Yeah."
Kiki handed it over. "Now don't spill it on yourself like you did last night's linguini."
Layla grabbed the soup. Disturbed by her sister's silence Keke added, "I'm only kidding, clumsy. What's up? Bloating really got you that off?"
"Yeah. I think I'm just having a really bad dream."
"Oh that sucks. What happened in it?" Keke asked, not reacting to her sister's present tense.
"Keke, do I look different to you?"
"Yeah, you look off."
"What's wrong with me?" Layla asked.
"I don't know. You're staring into space."
"Is there anything else wrong?" Layla kept sipping her soup, fearful to put it down. Her breasts felt so huge and wrong, like they were fifty times too big, no, two hundred times. And she had no idea what to do or any will power to do it, just dull shocks and wonder with a side feeling of real aliveness, slow-motion and alertness like something important was happening.
"You're freaking me out," Kiki said. She leaned over and poked Layla in the breast with her pointer finger. It squished like a chopstick into a dumpling. The fifteen pound mass drummed up and quivered. It protruded and wobbled against the soft fabric of her dress, pulling the stitching in unnatural directions. Had anyone else been in the room they too would have been amazed by her size! The finger poke freaked Layla out but she remained still. She wanted to run out of the room but suppressed the feeling. Her one breast was now out of sync, leaning towards Kiki and sagging into what Layla felt might have been her belt loops which should have been down at her waist level but were instead pulled up tightly to just under her ribs. She was so huge that the pretty dress fit completely wrong.
"Why are my breasts so big?" Layla asked point blank.
"Because you're a big boob bitch?" Kiki asked with a laugh. "Do your boobs feel bigger? But what's wrong with that?" She poked her sister's breast again and another shockwave of heat and touch ran over Layla, and this time, Layla bit her tongue. "Come on. Open up. What's the matter no one showing them attention right now?"
Layla suddenly stood, pushing her heavy body into the sky with the weight of her breasts gathering into her center, wanting to put her back down on the couch. "God," she exclaimed. The pain in her shoulders was great. "I'm..."
"Big?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, you are," Kiki said. "Do I need more of a reminder? I live with you for pete's sake!"
"I feel like a..." Layla stopped dead. For some reason she wanted to say cow. But that made no sense. Her breasts were big but she wasn't a farm animal!
Kiki ignored her sister's half-sentence. "Tell me something I don't know. Weirdo," she said. "Look you got soup on your shirt." She rolled her eyes. "Told you. Your brains are in your boobs."
"I'm so big..." she repeated disappointedly.
"You're a big goofball, Layla. That's what you are. Why don't you sit down and finish your soup? Your boobs will be just as big when you're done."
Layla walked across the room zombie-like towards the TV and she saw herself in the black warped reflection and she did indeed have big breasts swinging under her neck, dictating her moves more than her legs. They made everything else in the room look shrunken and photo shopped. They took up more space than they were supposed to. They were supposed to be non-breasts, A-cups, and flat, but the breasts she had swung into the TV and pressed into the glass, leaving hot perspiration marks. Damn. They felt hot.
"Layla, you are ridiculous. Take a load off you. You know you can't stand long." Kiki waved. "Besides I wanted to tell you about who I saw at the mall. It was Auntie Barbara and she was nine months pregnant. I was like, 'Oh my god,' and didn't even recognize her. She was as big as a house and buying a forth round of maternity clothes, already bigger than her last set. I asked, 'What for? You're about to give birth any day,' and she said she was getting bigger literally every twenty four hours and had no choice! Can you believe that?" Kiki turned on her PlayStation 5 as Layla turned around from the TV and sat back on the couch. Kiki grabbed a controller and then pushed it into Layla's breasts until it settled in her cleavage. "Come on. Let's get a game in before I have to go to work."
The two played a SpongeBob video game for thirty minutes with Keke screaming at the screen and Layla losing all of her lives. She paid her body no attention to her body although her body paid attention to her, constantly bumping into her own elbows and hands and even the coffee table. They even got bigger as Layla played, stretching the poor dress and making the spaghetti straps thinner. Suddenly, she grabbed her breast with her hand. "Oh my God!" she screamed.
"What's the matter?" Kiki asked, covering her ears and wincing.
"I'm growing," Layla said pathetically with her voice getting high and shy.
"It's okay. Stop being a drama queen. Come on let's go the boss levels next."
"I can't. I'm growing," Layla said. She felt fear but Kiki unpaused the game. With mayhem on screen, Layla continued to get bigger from a P cup to a Q cup to an R cup with her breasts now hanging over her belt loops, squishing them and crashing into the tops of her thighs. The pattern of the dress was so out of shape that it was unrecognizable. Her boobs became too heavy to bear.
After the boss level, Kiki reassured her, "This is normal. You're always growing."
"Am I?" Layla asked with complete sincerity.
"You can't be serious," Kiki said.
"I'm serious. Am I always growing?"
"You're always growing. Now you just messing with me. You grow every day. That's what you do. Do you have amnesia again? I swear, ever since you started making a gallon a day, your memory turned to mush."
"No, that's not true. That's not possible," Layla said, putting the controller down and putting her hands underneath her thighs. For some reason she felt like she couldn't use her hands.
Kiki put her hand on Layla's breast and said, "Well, I guess it's time to get to work." She pressed her hand down into the breast, feeling the milk underneath. "Yep, you're full." She kept pushing around, digging into the quivering flesh. "You're growing fast these days. By the way, tonight you have an appointment with Mr. Chan from The Soup Factory. I'm going to send you over there around nine after your nap." Kiki gave Layla's breast a playful slap and said, "Don't you worry, it'll be a good nap." Within mere moments, Kiki whisked together a drawer-full of supplies from the closet pulling out six cups as well as ten bottles of pills. She placed pills and cups together and started to drop each one in, watching them dissolve into the water. Then she pulled out from a drawer a gadget that look like a series of tubes and bowls. She put them on the table and started to clean out to plastic bowls which looked like they were filled with white drops of fluid.
Suddenly Layla's memory jogged. She knew now that those bowls went around her breasts. They sat there most of the day, more often then her breasts were able to hang freely. She felt her nipples pinch close involuntarily under her dress like they were scared. She tried to think about who Mr. Chan was and remembered a small, fast-talking man from The Soup Factory shop down the street. Suddenly she saw him in her mind, grunting and sweating and trying to unbutton his shirt quickly. He stood over her, bouncing. She remembered grunting, "Moo moo moo" just like a cow and there was milk everywhere too.
Kiki pet Layla on the head like she was a little child. "Dear, dear. Come on. No daydreaming. You've got big work to do," she said with a smile. Just then she stretched the neckline of Layla's dress down and went into it to pull out her breasts. The scene was like watching a piece of plastic melt in a fire. The neckline pulled down elastically and quickly and Kiki huffed as she stuck her arm down to the elbow into her sister's shirt, groping for the sides of her breasts, pulling up some with her palm and then going deeper again and pulling up more. Eventually the fifteen-pound boobs were cradled with Kiki them like a UPS driver holding a box and then she let them fall down over Layla shirt with a triumphant smile. Layla felt her eyes close slowly remembering what would come next. Kiki pulled out the next breast and tapped the plastic bowls with their long fingernails. "We're going to work until seven today because we need two quarts in two hours and then we'll see Mr. Chan's and then we can milk the rest of it afterwards. It's good to give him a fuller serving once in awhile. He's easily satisfied and always timely with our food."
"Right," Layla mouthed. She laid back and shut her eyes and felt the cold plastic wrap around her breasts, attaching to her nipples and the pink boob flesh around it, her most sensitive area by far. Every point of contact in that erogenous zone was worth a hundred anywhere else. Pressure felt like driving a motorcycle with no helmet. Bu bu bu bum, the motor on the gadget roared to life and started vacuuming air from the room to use to suck milk from Layla's chest. She made a small trumpet noise with her mouth and hung her jaw blissfully as little microscopic activity took place in her chest. Glands turned on and funneled milk through her breasts infrastructure to her tiny nipple opening where the gadget sucked feverishly. It was like trying to get all of the tooth paste out of a tube at once, with one squish. It wasn't possible and caused a lot of tingly suction within her breast.
Kiki stood up and flattened her hands against her top. It wasn't actually $8 from Wal-Mart but a $1,300 top from Balenciaga, a new purchase. She admired the high quality stitching work and thought about the gold flakes on the trim that had been imported from Italy's historic area and needed the permits of thirteen councilmen to approve. Her success was her biggest happiness. "You're going to feel so good," she said, leaning down and turning the machine up another notch. Veins in Layla's chest protruded bright blue as heavy white milk pooled, now filling up the baby bottles attached to the machine. Layla needed to fill six of these up in the next two hours and preferably sooner if she expected to have any time for a restorative nap.
Kiki took a knife and opened up a package in the corner of the room and squealed with glee. "My Diors!" She unwrapped dress after dress from the box and laid them on the coffee table, admiring the bright colors. They were wrapped in plastic and smelt fresh. "Layla, after you get going and do the first two quarts, starts unwrapping these and photographing them for storage. I've got twenty new outfits here that I want to catalogue. Can you do that?"
Layla's head leaned forward, almost falling onto her own breasts. Kiki put her finger on her forehead and lifted her up. "Excuse me, sleepy. Sitting there and being milked isn't your only job here." Layla looked up and nodded softly, her little smile, the smile she had throughout her childhood and teen years. Kiki took momentary pity on her and traced her finger along Layla's breast veins. "So big, so hard working. Can you feel when I do this?" Kiki said, running along the vein. Layla nodded. "And what about this?" Kiki took all of her fingers and traced down Layla's breasts from her neckline to the suction bowls. "These are so out of control. You'll be making gallons soon. Maybe our investors will have to come here to play with you, since you might get too big to move around." Kiki smiled. "Wouldn't that be something? I don't know if that would be good but it would be something."
"I don't want to get bigger," Layla said.
"Yes, you do."
She shook her head.
"Yes, you do. Say you do. Say, 'I want to get bigger.'"
"I want to get bigger?"
"Exactly. Say it again."
"I want to get bigger?"
"Right! Speaking of," Kiki pulled out a measuring tape from her shirt pocket and unraveled it, clicking the two metal ends together in glee. "Let's take some numbers." She wrapped the tape around Layla's back and brought it around front, hefting Layla's breasts as needed since they didn't sit evenly unless propped up and moved. They were more fussy than Layla, after all they practically had a mind of their own and Layla's was slipping away. "67 inches!" Kiki cheered, "You're enormous. So big and beautiful. I cannot wait until you hit 70. We'll have a party and everyone over and hopefully some bra donations to you so you don't have to keep wearing these blankets and towels." Kiki strung the tape around one full breast, "39 inches and 40 on the other. Good good!"
Would Layla ever escape this? She didn't know. All she knew right now was milk, milk, milk. Milk flowed into those baby bottles like little trophies of success. Her breasts were bulging with warmth, combining the powers of vitamins, hormones, diet, and suction. Milking had become, in no time at all, the biggest thing in her life. Her brain just new "grow" and "milk" and oh yeah some adult stuff too like "lick," "suck," and "squeeze." Layla was a supervisors at a bank a year ago but since her sister discovered the human milk market and decided to go at it full-steam, Layla's days had taken a turn for the strange. Somewhere in her mind she knew she was dangerously busty and no longer her old, intellectual self and somewhere in the past were days of business meeting and suits and big negotiations but now all she knew was the cow lifestyle of pumping, draining, and encounters with strange men who supplied Kiki's shopping habit. Her younger sister, all her life, had been teased for being the less pretty of the two so maybe somehow, this was was fair, her finally getting her day as the successful businesswoman? Maybe. Anyway, this was too much for Layla's sleepy mind to contemplate. She tried to count the dresses on the table to estimate her workload later but her mind fogged up around fifteen. She settled into a new milking nap and licked her lips and wondered if they made that $8 Walmart dress in her size. They probably did. She'd have to ask Kiki when she woke up.
Just then her sister Keke arrived, a dainty-pink clad girl bearing food in her hands. "I got you some soup!" she said chipper as ever.
Layla, our story's heroine, turned to Kiki. "There's something wrong," she said, her hands wandering in front of her as if she was too nervous to rest them and come in contact with the freaky hugeness under them.
"What is it?" Kiki asked. She unwrapped the straw of her drink. It was a beautiful summer evening and the hot soup went well with the cool breeze.
"I...I," Layla stammered. She stared off at the wall. "...don't feel well."
"Feel bloated?"
"Yeah," she said glumly.
Kiki popped the lid of her soup and start sipping. "Oh my God this is so good. Well, have some soup. It's light."
Layla felt nervous to tell Kiki that she felt like her breast had grown enormously in her sleep. She watched her sister eat and looked longingly at her slim figure, the same figure she's was supposed to have. "I love that dress on you," she said.
"Thank you! I got it for eight bucks at Walmart. Can you believe that?"
Layla's breast shook even though she was practically motionless. The tugging pain set into her shoulders made her feel like she couldn't just roll the weight off of her.
"Aren't you going to have your soup?" Kiki asked.
"Yeah."
Kiki handed it over. "Now don't spill it on yourself like you did last night's linguini."
Layla grabbed the soup. Disturbed by her sister's silence Keke added, "I'm only kidding, clumsy. What's up? Bloating really got you that off?"
"Yeah. I think I'm just having a really bad dream."
"Oh that sucks. What happened in it?" Keke asked, not reacting to her sister's present tense.
"Keke, do I look different to you?"
"Yeah, you look off."
"What's wrong with me?" Layla asked.
"I don't know. You're staring into space."
"Is there anything else wrong?" Layla kept sipping her soup, fearful to put it down. Her breasts felt so huge and wrong, like they were fifty times too big, no, two hundred times. And she had no idea what to do or any will power to do it, just dull shocks and wonder with a side feeling of real aliveness, slow-motion and alertness like something important was happening.
"You're freaking me out," Kiki said. She leaned over and poked Layla in the breast with her pointer finger. It squished like a chopstick into a dumpling. The fifteen pound mass drummed up and quivered. It protruded and wobbled against the soft fabric of her dress, pulling the stitching in unnatural directions. Had anyone else been in the room they too would have been amazed by her size! The finger poke freaked Layla out but she remained still. She wanted to run out of the room but suppressed the feeling. Her one breast was now out of sync, leaning towards Kiki and sagging into what Layla felt might have been her belt loops which should have been down at her waist level but were instead pulled up tightly to just under her ribs. She was so huge that the pretty dress fit completely wrong.
"Why are my breasts so big?" Layla asked point blank.
"Because you're a big boob bitch?" Kiki asked with a laugh. "Do your boobs feel bigger? But what's wrong with that?" She poked her sister's breast again and another shockwave of heat and touch ran over Layla, and this time, Layla bit her tongue. "Come on. Open up. What's the matter no one showing them attention right now?"
Layla suddenly stood, pushing her heavy body into the sky with the weight of her breasts gathering into her center, wanting to put her back down on the couch. "God," she exclaimed. The pain in her shoulders was great. "I'm..."
"Big?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, you are," Kiki said. "Do I need more of a reminder? I live with you for pete's sake!"
"I feel like a..." Layla stopped dead. For some reason she wanted to say cow. But that made no sense. Her breasts were big but she wasn't a farm animal!
Kiki ignored her sister's half-sentence. "Tell me something I don't know. Weirdo," she said. "Look you got soup on your shirt." She rolled her eyes. "Told you. Your brains are in your boobs."
"I'm so big..." she repeated disappointedly.
"You're a big goofball, Layla. That's what you are. Why don't you sit down and finish your soup? Your boobs will be just as big when you're done."
Layla walked across the room zombie-like towards the TV and she saw herself in the black warped reflection and she did indeed have big breasts swinging under her neck, dictating her moves more than her legs. They made everything else in the room look shrunken and photo shopped. They took up more space than they were supposed to. They were supposed to be non-breasts, A-cups, and flat, but the breasts she had swung into the TV and pressed into the glass, leaving hot perspiration marks. Damn. They felt hot.
"Layla, you are ridiculous. Take a load off you. You know you can't stand long." Kiki waved. "Besides I wanted to tell you about who I saw at the mall. It was Auntie Barbara and she was nine months pregnant. I was like, 'Oh my god,' and didn't even recognize her. She was as big as a house and buying a forth round of maternity clothes, already bigger than her last set. I asked, 'What for? You're about to give birth any day,' and she said she was getting bigger literally every twenty four hours and had no choice! Can you believe that?" Kiki turned on her PlayStation 5 as Layla turned around from the TV and sat back on the couch. Kiki grabbed a controller and then pushed it into Layla's breasts until it settled in her cleavage. "Come on. Let's get a game in before I have to go to work."
The two played a SpongeBob video game for thirty minutes with Keke screaming at the screen and Layla losing all of her lives. She paid her body no attention to her body although her body paid attention to her, constantly bumping into her own elbows and hands and even the coffee table. They even got bigger as Layla played, stretching the poor dress and making the spaghetti straps thinner. Suddenly, she grabbed her breast with her hand. "Oh my God!" she screamed.
"What's the matter?" Kiki asked, covering her ears and wincing.
"I'm growing," Layla said pathetically with her voice getting high and shy.
"It's okay. Stop being a drama queen. Come on let's go the boss levels next."
"I can't. I'm growing," Layla said. She felt fear but Kiki unpaused the game. With mayhem on screen, Layla continued to get bigger from a P cup to a Q cup to an R cup with her breasts now hanging over her belt loops, squishing them and crashing into the tops of her thighs. The pattern of the dress was so out of shape that it was unrecognizable. Her boobs became too heavy to bear.
After the boss level, Kiki reassured her, "This is normal. You're always growing."
"Am I?" Layla asked with complete sincerity.
"You can't be serious," Kiki said.
"I'm serious. Am I always growing?"
"You're always growing. Now you just messing with me. You grow every day. That's what you do. Do you have amnesia again? I swear, ever since you started making a gallon a day, your memory turned to mush."
"No, that's not true. That's not possible," Layla said, putting the controller down and putting her hands underneath her thighs. For some reason she felt like she couldn't use her hands.
Kiki put her hand on Layla's breast and said, "Well, I guess it's time to get to work." She pressed her hand down into the breast, feeling the milk underneath. "Yep, you're full." She kept pushing around, digging into the quivering flesh. "You're growing fast these days. By the way, tonight you have an appointment with Mr. Chan from The Soup Factory. I'm going to send you over there around nine after your nap." Kiki gave Layla's breast a playful slap and said, "Don't you worry, it'll be a good nap." Within mere moments, Kiki whisked together a drawer-full of supplies from the closet pulling out six cups as well as ten bottles of pills. She placed pills and cups together and started to drop each one in, watching them dissolve into the water. Then she pulled out from a drawer a gadget that look like a series of tubes and bowls. She put them on the table and started to clean out to plastic bowls which looked like they were filled with white drops of fluid.
Suddenly Layla's memory jogged. She knew now that those bowls went around her breasts. They sat there most of the day, more often then her breasts were able to hang freely. She felt her nipples pinch close involuntarily under her dress like they were scared. She tried to think about who Mr. Chan was and remembered a small, fast-talking man from The Soup Factory shop down the street. Suddenly she saw him in her mind, grunting and sweating and trying to unbutton his shirt quickly. He stood over her, bouncing. She remembered grunting, "Moo moo moo" just like a cow and there was milk everywhere too.
Kiki pet Layla on the head like she was a little child. "Dear, dear. Come on. No daydreaming. You've got big work to do," she said with a smile. Just then she stretched the neckline of Layla's dress down and went into it to pull out her breasts. The scene was like watching a piece of plastic melt in a fire. The neckline pulled down elastically and quickly and Kiki huffed as she stuck her arm down to the elbow into her sister's shirt, groping for the sides of her breasts, pulling up some with her palm and then going deeper again and pulling up more. Eventually the fifteen-pound boobs were cradled with Kiki them like a UPS driver holding a box and then she let them fall down over Layla shirt with a triumphant smile. Layla felt her eyes close slowly remembering what would come next. Kiki pulled out the next breast and tapped the plastic bowls with their long fingernails. "We're going to work until seven today because we need two quarts in two hours and then we'll see Mr. Chan's and then we can milk the rest of it afterwards. It's good to give him a fuller serving once in awhile. He's easily satisfied and always timely with our food."
"Right," Layla mouthed. She laid back and shut her eyes and felt the cold plastic wrap around her breasts, attaching to her nipples and the pink boob flesh around it, her most sensitive area by far. Every point of contact in that erogenous zone was worth a hundred anywhere else. Pressure felt like driving a motorcycle with no helmet. Bu bu bu bum, the motor on the gadget roared to life and started vacuuming air from the room to use to suck milk from Layla's chest. She made a small trumpet noise with her mouth and hung her jaw blissfully as little microscopic activity took place in her chest. Glands turned on and funneled milk through her breasts infrastructure to her tiny nipple opening where the gadget sucked feverishly. It was like trying to get all of the tooth paste out of a tube at once, with one squish. It wasn't possible and caused a lot of tingly suction within her breast.
Kiki stood up and flattened her hands against her top. It wasn't actually $8 from Wal-Mart but a $1,300 top from Balenciaga, a new purchase. She admired the high quality stitching work and thought about the gold flakes on the trim that had been imported from Italy's historic area and needed the permits of thirteen councilmen to approve. Her success was her biggest happiness. "You're going to feel so good," she said, leaning down and turning the machine up another notch. Veins in Layla's chest protruded bright blue as heavy white milk pooled, now filling up the baby bottles attached to the machine. Layla needed to fill six of these up in the next two hours and preferably sooner if she expected to have any time for a restorative nap.
Kiki took a knife and opened up a package in the corner of the room and squealed with glee. "My Diors!" She unwrapped dress after dress from the box and laid them on the coffee table, admiring the bright colors. They were wrapped in plastic and smelt fresh. "Layla, after you get going and do the first two quarts, starts unwrapping these and photographing them for storage. I've got twenty new outfits here that I want to catalogue. Can you do that?"
Layla's head leaned forward, almost falling onto her own breasts. Kiki put her finger on her forehead and lifted her up. "Excuse me, sleepy. Sitting there and being milked isn't your only job here." Layla looked up and nodded softly, her little smile, the smile she had throughout her childhood and teen years. Kiki took momentary pity on her and traced her finger along Layla's breast veins. "So big, so hard working. Can you feel when I do this?" Kiki said, running along the vein. Layla nodded. "And what about this?" Kiki took all of her fingers and traced down Layla's breasts from her neckline to the suction bowls. "These are so out of control. You'll be making gallons soon. Maybe our investors will have to come here to play with you, since you might get too big to move around." Kiki smiled. "Wouldn't that be something? I don't know if that would be good but it would be something."
"I don't want to get bigger," Layla said.
"Yes, you do."
She shook her head.
"Yes, you do. Say you do. Say, 'I want to get bigger.'"
"I want to get bigger?"
"Exactly. Say it again."
"I want to get bigger?"
"Right! Speaking of," Kiki pulled out a measuring tape from her shirt pocket and unraveled it, clicking the two metal ends together in glee. "Let's take some numbers." She wrapped the tape around Layla's back and brought it around front, hefting Layla's breasts as needed since they didn't sit evenly unless propped up and moved. They were more fussy than Layla, after all they practically had a mind of their own and Layla's was slipping away. "67 inches!" Kiki cheered, "You're enormous. So big and beautiful. I cannot wait until you hit 70. We'll have a party and everyone over and hopefully some bra donations to you so you don't have to keep wearing these blankets and towels." Kiki strung the tape around one full breast, "39 inches and 40 on the other. Good good!"
Would Layla ever escape this? She didn't know. All she knew right now was milk, milk, milk. Milk flowed into those baby bottles like little trophies of success. Her breasts were bulging with warmth, combining the powers of vitamins, hormones, diet, and suction. Milking had become, in no time at all, the biggest thing in her life. Her brain just new "grow" and "milk" and oh yeah some adult stuff too like "lick," "suck," and "squeeze." Layla was a supervisors at a bank a year ago but since her sister discovered the human milk market and decided to go at it full-steam, Layla's days had taken a turn for the strange. Somewhere in her mind she knew she was dangerously busty and no longer her old, intellectual self and somewhere in the past were days of business meeting and suits and big negotiations but now all she knew was the cow lifestyle of pumping, draining, and encounters with strange men who supplied Kiki's shopping habit. Her younger sister, all her life, had been teased for being the less pretty of the two so maybe somehow, this was was fair, her finally getting her day as the successful businesswoman? Maybe. Anyway, this was too much for Layla's sleepy mind to contemplate. She tried to count the dresses on the table to estimate her workload later but her mind fogged up around fifteen. She settled into a new milking nap and licked her lips and wondered if they made that $8 Walmart dress in her size. They probably did. She'd have to ask Kiki when she woke up.
