Multiple Mammaries, Part 1 - Female Version

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Multiple Mammaries on DeviantArt (Male Version)

Summary: After eating some of her sister's lactation cookies, Cona begins to develop lactating breasts, and more breasts.

Contains: Breast expansion, belly expansion, lactation, breast-belly, later butt-breasts, lots of breasts.

-

Cona stood in her apartment in shorts and a bandeau top, her thick dark hair hanging around her shoulders. She was a thin girl, on the skinny side, but men didn’t seem to mind. Cona blankly watched her sister rock her newborn back and forth. Her sister was visiting her for the first time since giving birth, and she looked exhausted. The baby’s father had run off the moment she’d learned Julie was pregnant, and Julie had done everything alone so far. Since having the baby four weeks earlier, there were dark circles under her eyes, her breasts were bloated, her bottom had gotten fat, and her stomach was bulging in the top she was wearing. Cona couldn’t help musing, Pregnancy sure did a number on her.

“What was that?” Julie said.

Cona hadn’t realized she’d said it aloud until she saw the hurt expression Julie was giving her. Still, she wasn’t one to back down from her words. “You just…uh, changed, that’s all,” Cona said awkwardly.

Julie lowered baby Eric to the stroller. “Well thanks Cona, I appreciate that,” she said sarcastically. Julie seemed to notice a bag tucked in the stroller and pulled it out. “Do you want a cookie?” she held up a clear unmarked plastic bag filled with what appeared to be oatmeal cookies.

Cona shrugged. “Sure,” she said. Better you than me, she thought snidely as she accepted the bag and pulled one out. She took a bite. “Not bad.” She quickly demolished the rest of the cookie before reaching for a second one. Cona had always had a fast metabolism and a slim physique, so she was free to indulge.

“Take them all,” said Julie, smirking at her. “I have plenty at home.”

“Thanks sis.”

“Any time.” Julie grinned.

Little did Cona know, she was gobbling down lactation cookies meant to assist Julie in producing milk.

And amused by her practical joke, Julie had no idea it would throw Cona’s hormones completely out of wack and set off a chain reaction in her body. “Well, I’m off,” she Julie. “I have some sleep to catch up on.”

“I’ll walk you out,” said Cona, continuing to munch away.

-

Over the next week, Cona began to develop a bit of chest pudge that was unusual for her – she had always had a slim runners’ body, with no breasts to speak of. But within a few more days, the pudge grew to anthills on her usually-flat chest. Her nipples grew more distended, becoming irritated when they rubbed against her clothes. The gentle swell of her chest often tingled and she could cup the fat against her palms. They were certifiable A-cups. Cona took to wearing tight tanktops and sports bras to keep her chest from becoming a hindrance when she jogged. One day, after returning home from the gym, she went into her bathroom to get cleaned up. A glance in her mirror made her do a double take. Her shirt had small damp spots over each of her nipples. As that seemed quite the bizarre place to sweat, Cona pulled up her shirt and examined both erect nipples. She blanched as she saw a white droplet fall from the left one, and then the right.

After a night of tossing and turning, stressed out and unable to sleep, Cona headed to her doctor’s office bright and early.

“It’s relatively normal to gain weight in the chest area every now and then,” said Doctor Reynolds, surveying Cona’s naked torso.

“But I’m-” Cona paused and reddened, “-lactating.” As if to corroborate this, her right nipple tingled and dripped a droplet of milk. Cona groaned in disgust.

“Also quite normal,” said Reynolds. “You’d be surprised by the number of women who suffer this issue at some point or another.”

“But why?” Cona asked.

Reynolds sighed. “It could be anything. An arbitrary hormone imbalance. Or even a sympathy response – you did say your sister just had a baby, didn’t she?”

Cona was doubtful that she could have mustered up enough sympathy to start lactating.

But then she looked down at her abdomen, which was usually slim, though had recently begun to develop a bit of pudge. Sympathy weight? Suddenly the idea wasn’t too farfetched.

“Trust me Cona, this usually resolves itself,” said Reynolds.

Cona hoped it would. She went home and tried her best to ignore it, continuing to wear fitted tanktops and sports bras under her clothes, reaching into them and dabbing her chest with tissue on the occasions she could feel them dripping. The doctor was right. It wasn’t too severe to be manageable.

But as the days wore on, the problem just seemed to be getting worse. At first Cona thought she was imagining it, but soon her chest was much fuller than before. She was suddenly sporting B-cups, and the milk output had turned from a drip to a stream.

Dr. Reynolds had discouraged her from stimulating her nipples, but Cona had little choice when she was at work, at midday, when they would usually begin to spontaneously and uncontrollably seep, her nipples not stopping no matter how much she dabbed. Cona responded at first by padding the inside of her bra with paper towel, but they quickly became soaked through. As a last resort, she found herself buying a portable breast pump. Placing it into a small bag, she brought it with her into one of the bathroom stalls at work, fumbling with the instructions, and staring at the contraption uneasily. She pressed each suction attachment to her nipples, hesitated, and turned it on. It hummed quietly and uncomfortably drew on her nipple, eventually extracting twin streams of milk down the hoses. For a while, the whole process was unnerving, but Cona slowly came to relax.

Pumping her breasts became a midday ritual for Cona. Granted she dressed inconspicuously, and didn’t miss a pumping session, her condition was as well-managed as one could hope.

The milk-collecting container was lined with measurements. One day Cona glanced over it, just out of curiosity. She was producing a cup of milk between both breasts.

Shuddering a bit, she dumped the milk into the toilet, and flushed.

-

A few days later, Cona was back at her apartment babysitting her newborn nephew, and the infant simply would not stop crying. At twenty-five, Cona wasn’t the biggest fan of babies. Though she should have been getting work done on her computer, Cona spent most of the night walking back and forth between her office and the guest room, lifting the baby, rocking the baby, attempting to bottle feed the baby, and generally trying to pacify him. The cries were nerve-racking. It caused her head to ache, and it made the mounds on her chest tingle strangely. When finally baby Eric fell asleep, Cona took the opportunity to collapse to her bed.

She awoke in the middle of the night to the familiar wailing of her sister’s fretful child. Deciding that she would never babysit again, Cona climbed out of bed, still half-asleep. In just a pair of panties, she trudged to the guest room and lifted the baby from the crib. She had a presentation at work in the morning and there was no way she was going to be able to do it on only three hours of sleep.

Holding the sobbing baby to her chest, Cona headed to the kitchen to prep a bottle, when she suddenly experienced the same sensation she got when she used the breast pump. Cona looked down, and to her horror, the baby was nursing from her.

-

Baby Eric had kept up with the crying on and off throughout most of the night, and it had thrown off Cona’s physical and mental equilibrium. If had affected her so strangely, her chest had tingled most of the night. And Cona was up the whole time, tossing, turning, and clutching the mounds.

The next morning, to Cona’s horror, the lactation was a lot worse for some reason, and her breasts had bloated to C-cups. They seemed to tighten more as she heard the baby wake up in the next room.

Cona attended to baby Eric, but the crying would not stop. Cona cleaned him up, changed him, gave him a bottle, a pacifier, and various toys, but the baby continued to wail. Having no choice but to ignore it, Cona hurriedly got ready for work. She took a shower, pumped both breasts, then wrapped some athletic tape around her chest in an effort to conceal the growth beneath her clothes. It left them feeling sore.

Finally, she pulled on a tanktop, a blouse, some dress pants, and tied her hair back in a tight bun, before hurrying off to drop baby Eric off at her sister’s house.

Cona made it to work just in time for her presentation, looking disheveled and exhausted. Everyone was already seated, giving her looks that varied between curious and questioning, but no one seemed to take notice of her enlarged breasts.

“Sorry about that,” said Cona lightly as she smoothed back her hair. “I actually jogged here.” A reference to her running-addiction. She drew some laughter from her colleagues. Cona pulled a laser pointer from her pocket. “Jeff, can you turn on the projector?”

As Cona presented her proposal, she noticed the athletic tape bounding her chest growing increasingly tight as one hour turned into two. Soon she was rather flustered and breathless, her breasts pushing against the bounds, tingling and aching from confinement. Both nipples burned, and Cona felt them begin to seep milk through their first layer of confinement.

Cona managed to cut the final thirty minutes of her presentation in half. Afterwards, she hurried off to the bathroom and fumbled to pump her breasts. Together, they produced a cup and a half of milk.

Cona got dressed and discreetly returned to the meeting room, late to the luncheon that followed the presentation. She grabbed a plate and piled it mostly with cheese squares and feta skewers, adding a few scoops of creamy fettuccine alfredo on the side.

Walking by, Cona’s coworker, Rob, playfully elbowed her in the side. “Better go easy on those carbs,” Rob grinned, before heading off with his own plate.

Cona glanced down at her subtly rounding belly. Frowning to herself, she went to find a seat.

-

That night, Cona tossed and turned, trying to sleep. She could hear the baby crying endlessly in her head, though she knew that baby Eric was miles away, safe at home with Julie.

Giving up on sleeping, Cona climbed out of bed, figuring she would get a head start on the work from home she usually did during the weekends. In just some panties, she walked around topless, her breasts jiggling uncomfortably on her chest. It was, at least, a relief from the athletic tape she had to wear at work. That was terribly uncomfortable, especially when her breasts became full. Still, the last thing she needed was her colleagues thinking she had gotten implants. And she could hardly afford another professional wardrobe. She just hoped the problem resolved itself soon.

The jiggling as she walked was rather…bothering. Cona took deep breaths, trying to ignore it. Her nipples dripped milk here and there, but she didn’t feel fully engorged, and didn’t want to bother taking the time to pump herself.

Cona had the suspicion that she was adapting her life around the mounds, and that made her nervous. It was almost like it was a normal thing for her now. But it was a problem, and it was quickly getting out of hand. Cona decided she would make another appointment with her doctor for the next week.

As Cona walked by the guest room, she noticed something lying on the dresser. She walked inside and examined it. It was one of her sister’s maternity bras. She stared at it.

Cona lifted it for closer examination. It was a C cup. Cona hesitated, and looked around, as though expecting Julie to pop up out of nowhere. She then carefully slid the bra on. It was so soft and comfortable--she released a quiet groan. Cona looked down at the way the bra cradled her breasts, pushing her cleavage up towards her face, padding her perpetually erect nipples. She couldn’t help noticing how perfect the mounds were. It was so strange for her. She had never had breasts before. And these ones seemed as though they could drive some men wild. Cona watched them gently heave as she examined them further. She noticed the way they bulged slightly from the bra whenever she inhaled.

-

A few days later, Cona was in the shower, her fingers exploring…intruding her body. Her nipples spurted as her body shuddered, fluids seeping from between her legs.

After she was finished, slid to the bottom of the top, the hot shower continuing to pour over her body. She watched her plump breasts wiggle as she gasped for breath. She was getting aroused quite easily lately.

Finally getting up, Cona climbed out of the tub, dried herself off, and grabbed her breast pumps. She emptied her mammaries—nearly two cups, total. When she was finished, Cona went into her room and grabbed one of her sister’s bras out of the dresser. She latched it on and slid her arms into the straps, her breasts heaving up higher and bulging quite noticeably from the cups. She adjusted and re-adjusted the bra, but her breast-flesh continued to spill over. Damn. She was growing fast.

At work, people were beginning to sense that something was up. Between the several layers of clothes she wore despite that it was summer time, her continuous bathroom runs (at least twice a day now), and the newfound fullness of her blouse, her condition was getting harder to conceal.

When Cona finally made it back to see her doctor, Reynolds responded to the state of her breasts with surprise, then chastising.

“You can’t keep stimulating them. No pumping, no squeezing – try not to even touch them. It’s going to get worse before it gets better, Cona. I can’t help you unless you help yourself.” Declining to give Cona any prescription medication, as it would be sure to fail with Cona’s present cycle of stimulating her breasts, Reynold’s sent Cona home.

Cona decided to take a week off work to give the Doctor’s instructions a try. She had gotten into such a habit of pumping her breasts, giving it up gave her some anxiety. Most of the first day was spent distracting herself with food, snacking on grilled cheese, creamy clam chowder, and a few bowls of cereal and milk. She would walk around feeling rather tight…and tighter… her face flushed, body strangely aroused, and her breasts eventually feeling so full she didn’t dare attempt to put a bra on. Her nipples ached to be milked.

Two days later, Julie stopped by unannounced, and Cona had been completely caught off guard. She clutched a disorderly pile of papers she had been holding against her chest as Julie waltzed into her apartment, baby Eric in tow. Barely paying her any mind, Julie headed for the crib in the guest room as Cona blankly watched.

“Can you take him for a few hours? It’s an emergency. Remember Veronica from junior high? Her wedding is tomorrow and she’s getting cold feet. She’s even talking about skipping town.”

“Julie – no – I can’t, I’m working.”

“Thanks Cona. I’ll make it up to you.” And Julie was already out the door.

Poking her head into the hall, Cona speechlessly watched Julie stroll away. Cona couldn’t help noticing how quickly her sister was slimming down, and felt a pang of jealousy. Cona’s body seemed to be doing the opposite.

Cona cringed as she heard the baby start crying a few rooms away. Pulling herself back into the apartment, she shut and locked the door. Rather than attending to baby Eric, she decided to try something new. Cry training, or whatever the hell they called it. Cona went into her office and sat down at her computer where she started typing up a report. The crying continued, but Cona breathed through it.

She tried to think about all the progress she’d made. Though her breasts had swollen up to bloated D-cups since she had stopped pumping them, the spontaneous lactation had slowly decreased, and now her breasts had not expelled one drop of milk since the day before. Doctor Reynolds was right. Things would get worse, then improve, just as long as she stuck to the plan. The thought of her chest shrinking back down to normal filled Cona with relief.

But as the crying persisted, Cona’s chest felt flushed and tight in the loose shirt she was wearing. Eric’s wails echoed through Cona’s mind, and her breasts ached to fulfill some innate need. Cona grunted in discomfort as the pressure grew and grew. Her flesh tingled.

Growing anxious, Cona got up and warmed a bottle for Eric before walking to the guest room, lifting the baby from his crib, and attempted to feed him. Over the fifteen minutes Cona tried, the baby would not accept the bottle. He just cried yet more.

At her wits end, Cona lowered the bottle and lifted her phone, attempting to call her sister, but it went straight to voicemail.

Cona felt suffocated, physically and mentally. The tightness in her chest just seemed to grow, and she couldn’t handle any more of the wails. A glance at the clock told Cona it was already one in the afternoon. She had gotten no work done, and the baby had not eaten since Julie had dropped him off that morning.

Feeling exhausted, Cona gave up. She unbuttoned the front of her shirt with her free hand and impatiently pressed the baby against her chest. Milk ducts that had been slowly shrinking opened wide again, renewed from the stimulation, as the baby nursed, and finally, the crying ceased.

-

Following that incident, Cona had no choice but to go back to pumping her breasts if she had any hope of surviving work without seeping milk all over her clothes. They were now round, bobbing DD-cups, and the lactation had become relentless.

Her breasts now released three cups of milk between them if they were fully engorged. It was all so disturbing to Cona. Her body was actually producing food, lots of it, human sustenance. She felt like a cow. After each pumping session, Cona hastily dumped the warm, creamy contents of the collection container in the toilet. She would flush the milk down into the cesspool, then spend several moments struggling to get back into her nursing bra, her sports bra, her blouse, and a misshapen sweater, just for good measure. Her prolonged bathroom breaks didn’t look good at work. And regardless of all her measures, she wasn’t faring well with hiding her substantial breast growth.

Cona wasn’t lost to the looks her coworkers gave her as she fidgeted and sweated in her several layers of clothing. She didn’t miss the way they glanced at her chest.

Finally, Cona’s boss, Ted, called her in for a sit-down in his office, which had never happened before. If her boss wanted to meet with her about a project, it was usually in Cona’s office. Cona strongly suspected she was about to be fired.

“Cona, I’ve been a bit disappointed with your performance lately,” Ted got started, giving Cona a mournful look. “Lateness’s, leaving early, constant breaks – all of this is just not consistent with our policy of excellence here at MBE Corp, and I’m afraid we’re going to have to-”

“I’m really sorry boss,” Cona cut him off, tense, desperate, and sweating. “I’ve just been battling with – with some new health issues.”

“Health issues?” Ted took the bait.

Cona struggled to come up with something more plausible and less mortifying than what she was really dealing with, but all she could think of on the spot was the truth: “Macromastia.”

“Macro-what?”

“It’s--well--it’s breast…enlargement,” Cona said in a lowered voice. “As you can imagine, it’s really quite – mortifying. I’ve been struggling with it for the past few weeks.” Cona went even as far as opening her sweater, revealing the way her DDs bulged against her button-down.

Ted was astonished. “Oh…my.” He stared.

“All the stepping in and out – it’s been me doing my best to try to hide it. But I’ll do better, I swear. Work comes first from now on. Just give me another chance.”

Ted snapped out of her stupor. “Yes – of course.” He reddened somewhat. “I’m sorry to hear about your…your troubles. Here’s to a fresh start.” He awkwardly offered Cona his hand.

Cona shook it. “Thank you sir. You won’t regret this.”

Ted could do little more than nod as Cona closed her sweater and hurried off.

Though Cona had told her boss about her issue of breast enlargement, she had not said anything about the engorgement and lactation. It just crossed the line of how far Cona could stand to be humiliated. Cona continued to hide her condition from her coworkers and the rest of the office staff. She took to pumping her breasts in more covert and subtle ways – once, even under her desk in the middle of the work day. On the occasions Cona bumped into Ted, she received stares and some awkwardness, but for now, it seemed that her job was safe.

-

“You’re getting quite the beer belly there,” commented Cona’s coworker, Tammy, as Cona stood up from her seat after a meeting.

“Yeah,” said Cona awkwardly, exchanging Tammy’s smile with an uncomfortable one.

It was true. Her stomach was getting fuller and she didn’t know why. She didn’t think she was eating any more than usual, and she tried not to drink because of the baby – not that she intended to nurse her sister’s child anymore. It was just a…precautionary measure. Ever since the last situation, baby’s Eric’s wails still seemed to ring in Cona’s ears.

Over the next few days, Cona’s belly continued to get rounder and fuller like a beer-gut, bobbing and jiggling as it stretched her button-downs. Maybe it was because she had stopped jogging in recent weeks because of the awkwardness of the breast expansion. Cona wryly mused that at least it was probably drawing attention away from her chest. But soon enough, to her uncertainty, she looked five months pregnant, and it seemed a bit late to be having more sympathy growth. She silently resented her sister.

One morning, Cona awoke to find that her inward belly button had popped outward for some reason, and was now protruding. She also seemed to be developing a rash that formed a small plate around her navel. Cona had had dermatological issues in the past, and they usually weren’t serious. She decided she would just monitor it for the time being. Still, the belly button thing was weird. Maybe it was from the weight gain.

Cona also began to experience some weird abdominal sensations, sometimes a tingling, other times, soreness. At night, on the occasions she slept in a stretchy tanktop, she drew the top up over her belly to rub her hands up and down the bloated mass. She didn’t know why this felt so good. Her round breasts were close to popping out of the low neckline.

-

The next afternoon, Cona had a business meeting with her boss over lunch. She wasn’t sure what it was all about, she just hoped it wasn’t another attempt to fire her. Her plump DDDs felt sore on her chest. By then, the athletic tape reduced her breasts by a few cup sizes, but it didn’t, by any means, conceal them.

Cona wasn’t sure how she was going to face Ted. Not only had she revealed to him that she had macromastia, but just the other day, one of Cona’s cold calls had run long, and she had been late in pumping her breasts. She had hurried into the unisex bathroom, by which point milk had already begun to seep into the front of her sweater. Cona had been so relieved to close the bathroom door securely behind her, she hadn’t noticed Ted, by the sink, until she looked up. As Ted stared at the wet patches growing on Cona’s front, Cona was so mortified, she had quickly locked herself into a stall. Cona wasn’t sure if Ted had put two and two together, but most likely he had, and now he knew that Cona was lactating.

At that moment, being alone with her boss for an hour was the last thing Cona wanted to do.

“Ah, Cona. Glad you made it,” said Ted, standing as Cona walked up to the table he had reserved for them. They shook hands, and it took all of Cona’s resolve to meet her boss’ eyes. “Sit down, stay a while.” Ted joked, and Cona did as instructed.

As Cona plopped down, her belly button ached a bit for some reason. She ignored it, and forced herself to give her boss her undivided attention.

“Don’t be so tense,” said Ted. Every so often his eyes flickered down to Cona’s chest, but then they quickly returned to her face. “I hope you don’t mind, I ordered for the both of us.

Cona shook her head, intending to say, Not at all, but no words could seem to escape her mouth.

“Ah, there’s the waiter now,” said Ted, turning in his seat.

Ted was young, only a few years older than Cona was. He came from a rich background and a plethora of business connections, which had probably contributed to his career success.

The waiter arrived and lowered a massive plate in front of Cona. Upon it was what appeared to be a bit of pasta smothered in heaping portions of cheese.

“The seven cheese creamy-lasagna,” announced the waiter. He lowered a plate of greens in front of Ted. “The avocado salad.” With that, the waiter sauntered off.

“I’m vegan,” Ted explained as she dug into his salad. “But tell me how yours is.”

Cona hesitated and lifted her fork. She couldn’t deny that the meal looked delicious. She took a bite and almost groaned, the tangy flavors of the various cheeses filling her mouth. She was almost a bit aroused.

The waiter returned and lowered a large milkshake in front of Cona, and a lime seltzer in front of Ted.

“They say the shakes here are great,” said Ted, munching on his salad.

Cona was too absorbed in her lasagna to do anything more than eat and nod.

“Anyway, Cona, I have to say, I was pleased with your work on the Feldman account. In general, I’ve been impressed by the way you’ve been coordinating yourself, even despite your, ah, condition.” His eyes again flickered to Cona’s chest. “I think the fact that…”

Cona only caught bits and pieces of what Ted was saying, too intoxicated by the cheese. Her stomach seemed to tighten with every bite.

“…the position is very similar to what you’re doing now. I’d say the main difference is more one-on-one time with the clientele. We’re really trying to create close relationships with them at the managerial level,” Ted went on.

Cona looked up in surprise. “Wait…you’re offering me a promotion?” she said, confused.

Ted smiled. “What did you think this was about?”

“I honestly wasn’t sure.”

Ted seemed amused. “The position comes with more money, better benefits, more down time, and yes, a few extra hours here and there – mainly for socialization – wooing clients, you know the game. Think about it, Cona.”

Cona could do little more than nod. She was speechless.

“Now eat, eat. You’ve barely touched your plate. It’s a shame to waste food.”

Robotically, Cona did as instructed, filling her mouth with more forkfuls of lasagna. It wasn’t as though she could think of anything to say. By then, a lot of her tension had evaporated. This had not at all been what she had expected.

Only after Cona had eaten every bite of lasagna and slurped down every inch of her shake, did she and Ted stand to leave. Cona was surprised to realize how bloated her belly felt and how engorged her breasts had become, though she wasn’t due to milk them for another few hours. They tingled, and her nipples bulged out, prepared to seep at any moment. Full as her breasts had become over the course of the meal, she must have looked huge, though Ted showed no signs of noticing.

Cona couldn’t hold back any longer. “I’ll take the position.”

“Oh – well, great!” said Ted in surprise. He looked quite pleased.

“Yeah,” said Cona, sweating and straining to keep her milk contained. “But I really have to run.” Awkwardly shaking her boss’s hand, Cona hurried off.

-

Maybe Cona should have been going easy on the fatty foods, even in meetings. Soon enough, her bloated belly made her look as though she was six months pregnant—which was not possible. She hadn’t been with a man in over a year. And the rash on her navel had spread as well. Now her belly button had taken on the same pink hue, and it seemed larger. It looked, to her, very unusual. When Cona touched her navel, waves of pleasure shot through her. Over the next few days, it continued to distend and thicken, protruding blatantly in her shirts. It was so weird and embarrassing, Cona started taping it down.

During a presentation Cona had to do at work, something weird happened. As someone walked by, lightly brushing against her belly, the tape on Cona’s navel peeled off as her belly button strangely pushed against it. It was arousing and confusing, and Cona hoped no one noticed, but soon, most of the eyes in the room were glued to her stomach, many of her coworker’s wearing stunned expressions. Cona had no choice but to ignore her discomfort and avoid drawing attention to her navel. She rushed through the rest of her presentation.

After it was over, Cona hurried to the bathroom. She locked herself in a stall and pulled up her shirt to see that her belly button was hard and weirdly distended, the rash around it puffed out. Her belly almost looked like a giant…

No, that was ridiculous. Her mind was just playing tricks on her.

Standing there in the stall, Cona clutched her belly as it bobbed a bit. It felt tingly and warm, her hard, pink belly button pressing against her arm. What the hell was going on?

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