Caramel Flavoured (Commission for Caramel)

TAGS: Breast Expansion, Hyper/Hyper Breasts, Milk/Lactation

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Unorthodox, but he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy the idea.

Taking the supplements felt weird at first, but once his breasts started filling in, Caramel had to admit, it was… surprisingly more enjoyable than he thought it would be. He hadn’t assumed working in a maid café would involve letting customers drink freely from the tap, nor did he think the managers would outright tell him to take those boosters, but he knew what they said about assumptions; now though, putting on the uniform and making sure his cleavage was on full display had become something of a routine, and one he happily engaged in every day he had to clock in.

Hell, he’d started asking for more shifts, seeing as, for once, he’d found a job he was genuinely happy in. The pay was fantastic, he was allowed to keep the tips, the customers loved him, and all he needed in return was to take a few pills to make his tits produce… well, it used to be milk, but whether due to a trick of fate or a deliberate design choice, the sweet cream had begun shifting into something more befitting of his name. Wouldn’t be the first time he felt his bust tugging at his back and had to go find someone to empty it, only to leave them begging for more as their blood sugar levels skyrocketed.

In fact, Caramel found that he quite enjoyed the sensation of being full; not just being capable of producing, but quite literally being stuffed to capacity, even if it was murder on his spine at first. With some training though, he felt it became easier over time, enough so that, on occasion, whenever someone caught him in the changing room they’d compliment him on his “working out”, at least until he turned around, confused, and whoever said that realised why the collie’s back muscles were as well-toned as they were.

Sadly, company policy didn’t allow him to go for too long without emptying. Not only was it seen as a waste of perfectly good milk (or the closest thing, in Caramel’s case), but there was only so much that any one employee could take before they reached a peak size, beyond which the boosters would shut off and keep them stable. And while the dog would’ve been more than happy to walk around with his tits full all day long, the moment a manager caught him deliberately holding back, that’d be another earful he had to take.

That said, nothing was stopping him from filling up at home and showing up to work the following morning looking like he was ready to burst; hell, nothing was stopping him from scheduling his days off so he’d get two of them in a row, purely so he could see how far he could take himself before he could fill no longer. It was important, he figured, to know his limits, because how else was he supposed to know how to go past them?

It was during one of these occasions that Caramel made an interesting discovery. While rummaging through his second uniform just before putting it in the wash, he noticed something inside one of his pockets: a pill. Not just any pill either, but a lactation booster given to him by one of his managers, to keep his body producing at a steady pace. He wasn’t supposed to take more than was necessary, so how exactly that thing got there was anyone’s guess… but Caramel wasn’t going to let such an opportunity pass him by.

Looking up at the nearest mirror, what the collie saw was a pair of breasts full enough that he’d need two hands for each one if he wanted to cup them properly… as well as a pair of breasts that could definitely afford to be bigger. With the rest of the day ahead of him, the way forward was obvious, and after the pill was swallowed and downed with a glass of water, Caramel settled down for a few hours of extra productivity, watching television and letting himself fill.

The sense of pressure was the most obvious at first, as was the tightness around his chest when his shirt grew a tad too small to hold his new size; his bra, as well, began complaining once his tits started to spill over from it, but Caramel did nothing. To him, that tightness being there was a constant reminder that he was growing, and he wasn’t going to let that go for anything in the world… at least, until his tits bloated enough that he heard something snap, and the full weight of them slapped against his torso once his bra finally gave up the ghost.

One pill. That was all it took for him to outgrow his bra hard enough to actually make it snap, which was… definitely something as far as Caramel was concerned. Definitely a good reason to want to sneak more pills from his workplace and take them where no one could see them, even if he’d have to explain why and how he was growing ever larger without any apparent reason; hell, looking down at his bust revealed that each of his tits was easily the size of his head, if not larger still, thick droplets of thick cream flowing from each teat and begging for anyone to come drink them. But for the collie, it wasn’t enough; he needed to be bigger.

Work the following day was something of a challenge. As he predicted, his managers were quick to ask him how exactly he was several cup sizes bigger, at which point Caramel could only shrug and blame it on “aftereffects” without being any more specific. He had to work to convince his supervisors that he should still be given pills as well; none of them wanted to push too much now that one of their employees was suffering from hitherto-unseen side effects. But the customers loved it, Caramel loved it, and as much as his coworkers weren’t wont to admit it, it was clear they loved it as well, so down the pills went.

The compounded effect made it supremely easy for what remained of Caramel’s work uniform to go the same way his bra did, though mercifully he managed to drag himself back to the changing room before the maid outfit was torn apart completely, much to the chagrin of the paying customers who wanted to see it happen. Company policy, sadly; the workers weren’t allowed to have unscheduled wardrobe malfunctions, it screwed with the schedule and made it harder to keep decency to within acceptable levels.

Once safely away from prying eyes though, it was hard for Caramel to maintain anything resembling self-respect, not when his tits were so bloated that they covered most of his front, his nipples were so engorged they were about the size of his fists, and there was so much of his namesake splattering over the floor that he had to be careful not to slip on it… and he wasn’t done filling yet, he knew that much

They were heavy enough that he could barely stand, forcing him to slouch forward and hold them up with both hands, and definitely large enough to the point where he had a good half a foot of backboob on either side of him, but they weren’t done, that much he knew. They still had plenty of space to fill and weight to gain, and if not for his managers walking in on him milking himself, the collie would’ve been happy to just stay there and let his tits bloat until he was left entirely immobile.

Sadly, the company couldn’t allow that. Not that Caramel would ever seek legal action, but they had to cover their ass in some way, hence why they even had an emergency milking machine in a backroom bolted shut with a code that only the managers knew and changed every day. A milking machine that Caramel was dragged off to, insensate and trailing cream all throughout, to be drained dry and made as small and empty as possible.

It was a fool’s errand, but his supervisors had to try anyway. With the suction cups in place and the collie himself strapped to the machine like a milking cow, a flick of a switch later and the entire backstage area of the café reverberated with the loud, whorish moans of someone who had just found their personal paradise and never intended to leave. Red faces all around, even the two managers on call excusing themselves to leave Caramel alone while the machines “handled it”.

Alone with his thoughts… what little of them there were. Stuck on the machine, there wasn’t much he could think of besides the direct sensory feedback being shot through his spine and directly into his pleasure centres; there was little he could think besides how good felt… and how much more of it he wanted. How he could still go for longer, how he still hadn’t been full, how his body could clearly go bigger and it wouldn’t even be that much of a bother, surely. He could only think about how much more he needed, and what would be required to achieve it.

‘Twas a form of clarity, where every extraneous line of thinking was excised from him, leaving only the purity of bigness and growth, and a focus unlike any Caramel had experienced before. He knew exactly what he wanted, exactly how he could get it, and the steps needed to reach it; add all of those things up and it was crystal clear to the collie just what had to happen for him to achieve his size goals… he just needed to be released from the milking machine. And for that, it was time for some acting.

Playing the role of the good, obedient boy wasn’t that hard; he’d been at it for years whenever out in public or at his workplace, so it was really just a question of adapting it to this new reality. All he needed was to put on his most professional face and pretend like there wasn’t a ravenous beast desirous of nothing but further size right underneath it; a few choice words here, a carefully chosen expletive there, and it was surprisingly easy for him to convince his managers that he was actually fine, and whatever had happened to him had been a momentary hiccup at best.

How little did they know he had sticky hands and knew exactly where they kept the pill bottles.

It was so easy to just take a couple; heavens only knew why the managers felt like carrying those things around instead of keeping them locked up somewhere safe was a good idea, but Caramel wasn’t going to complain. A distracting word here, a slip of the nip there, and before he knew it, he was hiding the equivalent of several weeks’ worth of doses in just one pocket, practically buzzing as the possibilities ran through his head.

But he couldn’t just take them, not like that, not in the open. He had to time it properly so no one would be able to respond in time; if he started filling in full view of everyone, there was a decent chance they might just stick him back in the milking machine and let that handle the problem, and while he’d definitely still grow in that case, the collie wasn’t one to let a perfect opportunity be sullied by half-measures: he was either getting his full growth spurt or nothing.

Would’ve been easier for him to convince everyone he was fine if he didn’t have his rack swollen to the point that it was though; would’ve been significantly easier had he exercised the slightest bit of caution instead of taking it and throwing to the wind, leaving him with a pair of tits the size of yoga balls attached to his chest, Caramel barely able to walk without needing to anchor his hand somewhere. Hard to take him seriously when he claimed that no, he was perfectly ok, why were people asking?

Especially when the production kicked in again, and it became clear that a bigger bust definitely meant a more productive one, doubly so when there were no clothes getting in the way with absorbent pads to keep most of the leakage contained. It didn’t take more than five minutes for Caramel to ask for a chair to sit down on and a set of pumps to be attached to him; much as he wanted to see those things bloat, he had to keep up the charade that he was still in control of himself, and that meant potentially shrinking down in the process.

It was an investment though… or, at least, the collie chose to see it as one. By relinquishing some size now, he was allowing for more of it to be given to him later; plus, after the suction cups were attached to his nips and the machinery whirred into action, it was obvious to him that nothing would actually manage to drain him: the milking pumps were keeping up with his productivity, but his breasts weren’t getting any smaller, further terrifying the two managers on call, who had absolutely no idea what to do in that scenario.

It was out of their hands. They could definitely try and put a stop to it, maybe even attempt to slow it down, but the longer they kept Caramel off the emergency milking machine, the longer they went without realising their pill bottles had been stolen, the closer they came to it all crashing down on their heads. And Caramel himself was going to do anything to help either; he might put up a front of cooperation, maybe even go so far as to put the cups back on after a particularly heavy squirt had them fly off, but there were always little treacheries in the middle.

Maybe he’d take longer than he should to place the milking cup back on his teat; maybe he would lead down, “accidentally” falling onto the floor and forcing the manager duo and some of his colleagues to pull him back up before something bad happened. Maybe he would moan loudly enough that some of the customers would ask where he was, because they really wanted to see him. Or maybe he’d just sit there, smiling, being on his best behaviour, slowly convincing everyone around him that they were the ones who were crazy.

All while waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. All he needed was an opening, enough time to take the pill bottles and shove their contents onto his hand so he could down all of them at once… and he would get it, just around the same time as the shift change at lunch. He hadn’t even considered it: he was working full-time, but the rest of the opening shift wasn’t, and had to be replaced just after lunch hour with the afternoon workers. While this didn’t include the managers, it was enough of a distraction to keep them occupied for a few minutes, and a few minutes was all that Caramel needed.

When he figured the coast was clear enough, the collie picked himself up, ripped the top half of his tattered uniform off, readjusted the bottom one so it wouldn’t slide onto the ground, then turned to the service door leading to the café proper. Through there, he’d leave the backrooms and be in full view of the clientele… and the rest of the staff, but it’d be too late by then; as, just before he swung open the door, Caramel popped the cap off bottle pill bottles and tipped their contents into his mouth, swallowing them dry and nearly coughing them up afterwards.

He powered through the retching. It was necessary, he told himself, for what was to come, a small sacrifice for a greater payoff. Already he could feel his breasts growing ever tighter just as he pushed the door out, loudly announcing his presence by hopping forward and landing on both feet, causing his bust to bounce hard enough to squirt milk all over the floor in front of him. A coy smile, a false apology, and the sudden silence of the cafés customers turning into an uproar of hooting and hollering when they truly took in what they were seeing; this was his heaven.

And, for the many people in there, it’d be their heaven come soon enough as well, as there simply wasn’t enough space in the café for what Caramel intended to do… or, well, had done, and was now waiting for. He could feel the pressure rising, the ocean of cream ready to burst forth into the great outdoors, the countless gallons of milk desperate for a release that was soon to come. He could hear his coworkers behind him as well, trying to pull him back into the backrooms only to find that the collie no longer fit through the door.

All part of his plan… sort of. He had thought far enough ahead to know he wanted to grow, so it made sense that he stopped fitting into places, especially something as mundane as a door; no such thing could contain him, especially not when the first growth spurt hit him hard enough that he gained several feet of bust in every direction, closely followed by a second one so powerful that he felt his tits slap on the ground with a loud, almost wet thud.

From there, it was easy to lose track of things. He knew he was big, so “how” big stopped mattering just as long as it was larger than it had been just a moment before; just as long as he could say that he was, indeed, bigger than he had been a few seconds ago, then things were going along just fine for Caramel. Plus, he had a captive audience to cheer him on; his coworkers and managers might want to make him stop, might practically beg for him to hold back, but they might as well be asking a mountain to crumble from how little control they had over the growth proper.

More and more of the café was consumed by Caramel’s growing bust, even if Caramel himself was only vaguely aware of any of it. His brain wasn’t growing any denser as his bust grew larger, forcing it to process increasing amounts of sensory information on the same processing power; it was unsurprising that it would just give up after a while, knocking the collie out cold into a fugue state where all non-essential functions could be hijacked to deal with the avalanche of pleasure trying its best to turn Caramel’s brain matter into mush.

That, and threatening to turn everyone else’s bones into dust if they didn’t move quickly enough. The only indication of just how quickly the canine’s tits were bloating were the pained groans of metal and the cracking of wood that screamed out for just a singular moment whenever a table or booth was overtaken; Caramel wasn’t quite so much pushing them out of the way as he was crushing them underneath the heft of his tits… which, as far as he was aware, was exactly what he needed.

He might not be fully capable of understanding what he was feeling, but he could tell some people were stuck wriggling underneath him, just as some had hopped on top of him and were more than happy to stay there, lying on his breasts, rubbing their chosen milktank to their heart’s content. He might not fully understand how large he was becoming, but he knew that the amount of space inside the café was finite, and if he didn’t stop growing, he’d reach that cap eventually.

The only question was whether or not he’d keep going. If he did, then the world should get ready, because he wasn’t stopping unless someone made him stop… and if he didn’t, well, he still had the café itself, as well as everyone inside of it. There’d be nothing more satisfying, in fact, than carefully filling out each and every little inch of space available to him, to perfection, until the inside of the establishment was nothing but his bosom, welcoming any and all who wished to partake, and were insane enough to try and fit a car-sized nipple inside their mouths.

But as said nips reached the furthest window out in front of Caramel, sending multiple dozen shivers up his spine, none of this felt at all relevant; just as long as he was big and bigger, he had accomplished what he set out to do, and everything else was irrelevant. Given how much pressure was being placed on those glass panes, as well as the crackling noises he heard muffled from beyond the veil though… the rest of the world should be very much prepared for the onslaught of collie bust.

Because he definitely wasn’t done yet.