Teacher II

Note: This is a story-prompt for Ryan Caday.

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The pressure was building every day. Now people were continually staring at her, perhaps assuming she had gotten work done. The parents of students shot her appalled looks. The male students looked appreciative, amused, and sometimes baffled. The female students looked uncomfortable and sometimes disgusted. Everyone was judging her based on what they thought they knew, and Pam was helpless to change the narrative.

On top of the emotional frustration, she never felt physically comfortable anymore. There was the persistent feeling that something was inside her, filling her, pushing at spots where constant pressure and tension certainly did not belong. She felt chronically overheated, most significantly in her chest, but also generally throughout her whole body. She was flushed and sweaty, and constantly panting. In recent weeks, movement had started up, causing her breast flesh to quake as she paused to groan, nipples wiggling, visibly wiggling, as her breasts bobbed, and she did all she could to hunch down, fold her arms, and hide the humiliation of her freakish anomaly—her breast pregnancy.

One morning in class, Pam was writing notes across the chalkboard for the students to copy down. She felt a lurch in her left breast. The movement was starting up again, but it wasn’t too bad, plus her back was turned. She might wait and see how things went.

Her nipples began to twitch, causing her to press her lips and grimace, but it was just a twitch. It probably wasn’t even visible beneath all her layers.

Pam continued to write, standing at a far enough distance from the chalkboard that her huge breasts didn’t rub into it, erasing her work. She had learned the hard way that this was something to pay attention to. She did her best to bear the shivers of movement, pausing to take in long, even breaths whenever necessary.

“Ms. Peterson?” one of the students called. Pam could see a hand raising in her peripheral vision. “I don’t understand problem seven. Why does the exponent end up becoming…”

Pam took another long breath. Her nipples began to sting. She could feel the left one pushing out as it was nudged carelessly, being shoved forward as she struggled not to squirm.

Finally the nudges stopped, but the stinging just worsened, then suddenly she felt the sensation of…moisture? Pam took a shuddering breath.

“E-excuse me,” said Pam, cutting off her rambling student. “Copy these notes. John, I will be back to explain the exponents in a moment.” With that, she walked briskly out of the room, not giving the students a chance to get a good look at her chest. She feared the worst, and as Pam went into the teacher’s lounge and locked herself into the private bathroom, she immediately saw in the mirror that her nipples looked even more prominent than before. She shed her blazer and sweater to find that moisture had seeped through the three layers of t-shirts she was wearing.

Fuck. She was lactating. “God,” she hissed, cradling the mounds carefully, cradling her—babies. God, she had babies in there, and they were only getting bigger, and now they were moving, and her tits were leaking, and she didn’t think she could hide it for much longer.

Her breasts were the size of honeydews, sticking out ludicrously on her chest. Lately the principal and superintendent were giving her wary looks, but neither had broached the subject. They were probably deliberating how to go about it. But it was only a matter of time before this whole thing jeopardized her job.

Pam stripped off the first two layers of T-shirts. The third was less new, and had steadily been stretched into a belly-shirt in recent days. She pulled that one off as well, and got to the tight bandeau she was wearing, which was the closest thing to a bra that her breasts could tolerate these days. The mounds were already bulging somewhat against the edges of the bandeau. They were so full and fleshy, round and fat. They were unnaturally massive and steadily dominating her torso.

She watched the bandeau dampen more. She pulled it down, beneath her fat nipples, cursing quietly as both squirted milk into the mirror.

Her nipples were swollen and huge, flushed dark pink, and the size of coke caps by then. Pam didn’t know what she was going to do. It was a lot of output. She began to pull wads of paper towel out of the dispenser, now watching as both nipples began to drip persistent droplets that trickled into the sink. There seemed to be no end in sight.

A quiet knock on the door startled her slightly. “W-who is it?” Pam asked.

“It’s me.” Peter.

Pam hissed a curse, tugged up the bandeau, and opened the door. She let Peter in quickly before snapping it shut again. The audacity of him to just stroll into the teacher’s lounge.

He gave a low whistle as he appraised her. “Wow.”

She expected an order, but he just stood there and marveled, watching her nipples become more defined as her baneau got wetter, then soaked, and finally began to drip. Her breasts were so high and full, round and perky, yet soft. The movement started up, and she grunted out, gripping the sink as her breasts shuddered and throbbed. “I’m not sure how much more I can take,” she gasped out.

“Like you have a choice.” Peter roughly turned her around so her back was to his chest. He groped at her indulgently as she hissed a curse, yet found herself arching into the contact.

“Everything’s progressing smoothly,” he said, shoving her bandeau up, so he could thumb at her huge, leaking nipples. He rubbed at the large pore at the center of each. “The birth canal is already starting to develop.”

“What?” said Pam appalled. “M-my nipples?” Her voice was panicked.

“Of course. How else did you think they were getting out?”