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Commission: Milk Girl - Preview 3
🕑 Added 2020-04-11 16:13:51 +0000 UTC
Third preview for Milk Girl, should be the final before the story is flat out done. Apologies for things taking so long. Illness is a bitch, and COVID-19 hasn't helped. Taking a small relax day today and I'm going to hope for finishing the story next week.
"There were still tensions between them, lasting through dinner and until they were ready for bed. A night's rest though, and Nora's fine breakfast, had them both feeling better. By the time Ben left for work, it was all water under the bridge. She’d almost forgotten to be expecting a package, especially when it arrived amidst her doing the breakfast dishes.
The buzz drew her up from the soapy water, leaving her hands dripping as she hopped her way over to the intercom. “Down in a sec,” she told them, operating the small buttons with her elbows.
Wiping her hands off on her pants, she scurried her way out the door, and down to her starting package. Delivered by a Humane Productions courier, it had a good amount of weight to it, leading her to wonder what was inside the whole way up. She had to let Marcie know it arrived though, before she went digging through it.
Plopping down into her desk chair the blonde got to work; a giddy feeling after years of being out of the game. Her screen lit up with her contact almost immediately, the business-dressed woman fixing her gaze straight before starting. “Humane Productions, Marcie speaking.”
“Hey,” that was horribly unprofessional, but it was out there, the best she could do was roll with it. “It’s Nora Daniels, my started kit just arrived,” she leaned out of frame and hoisted up the heavy package for her to see.
The tanned woman gave a clap. “Excellent, open it up and you should have a few things that'll help me get you set up.”
Doing as told the blonde dug in, finding it full of individually wrapped mechanical bits.
“Most of that is your milker, there are instructions for putting it together in the box, but it’s optional. You can hand express, which many of our test girls said was a preferable experience,” the businesswoman explained, moving on to the important part. “Ignoring that, you should find a digital scale, and a bottle of medication in the kit. Could you get those out?”
Nora gave a nod, pulling out pieces of the milker one at a time and setting them about her desk as she hunted for what she needed. “Here they are,” she got out a white bottle that rattled about as she lifted it, and a fairly average looking bathroom scale with a small bag taped to it.
“Excellent,” her monitor piped up, reaching over to type a few things into her computer. “The scale should have a dongle for you to plug into your computer, then I can take your weight.”
“Don’t you already have my weight?” the chubby blonde inquired, recalling filling that information out in her application.
Marcie shook her head. “Yes, it’s asked in the questionnaire, however in order to determine the appropriate dose of our lactation aide medication to place you on, we need exact numbers,” she replied matter of factly. “It’s also one of the few things we can’t check with a sample.”
That made sense. “Alright, let's get to it then,” the new milk girl offered, tearing into the small packet and fishing out the little usb end.
Plugging it in, setup was only a few seconds, and the pair got underway with her minor physical. “Okay, I've got your numbers,” the tanned woman smiled pleasantly. “With that, the recommended dose will be two of those starter tablets a day for the first week. If you want, you can take three at your current weight for more rapid results, if you start to experience frequent nausea however, reduce to one.”
Simple enough instructions. Nora tipped the bottle, pouring out three into her hand, on camera, and tossing them back with a confident smile. “Three it is then,” the faster she could resolve her and Ben's financial situation, the better.
The business woman couldn’t help a chuckle, glad for the enthusiasm of her recruit. “I’ll have your bottles and accelerant shipped out tomorrow. With any luck, you'll be producing in just over a week.”
***
It turned out to be an interesting first week, as the blonde’s body started preparing for the job ahead. By her second day she was awoken by the unpleasant sensation of soreness in her breasts, followed by mild nausea when she got up for the bathroom. Not enough to dissuade her down to one pill, but enough for her to be cautious; and for her fiancé to come in worried about her.
She recognized the tight feeling in her chest. Not enough to put her finger on it immediately, but enough to know it was familiar, something not to be overly worried about. And so, she kept to her usual routine. By the fourth day she had an ache in her back that just had her wanting to sit down, so she settled for using the day to sculpt her jogger. That was when she figured it out.
Sinking into her seat, there was no ignoring how her breasts landed on the desk, knocking her projects aside and leaving her to scramble to stop them falling and getting damaged. The further she reached, the more her tender boobs were pushed up towards her chin, sealing her suspicions. She was big-ish, by her own account, but she wasn’t tits resting on the table big.
Setting her project aside, far enough not to knock it if her hunch was correct, the blonde got up, all the while peeking down at her bust as she walked. There was rarely reason for her to wear a bra around the house alone, meaning each step to her closet had them bouncing about in her top. Tearing her way through her things she fished out one of her bras, and stripped down. They were obviously bigger, not hanging free for her to see, but still, she needed definitive proof.
Wrapping the band around her body she could hardly connect the hooks, her breasts overflowing the cups both ways and holding it a good extra inch away from her body. Still though she struggled on, sucking in her breath futilely and biting her lip in focus. It wasn’t going to happen, which meant at least two inches and two cup sizes she’d put on, seemingly overnight. She could have sworn she hadn’t gained too much weight, leading her to her next check of going back to her office area and pulling out her check-in scale.
Stepping on she had to pull her chest in to get a clear view, revealing she’d only gained about a pound. One pound didn’t add up to all this, normally her weight was spread out, not focused on her chest.
There was a flicker on her computer screen, the screensaver blinking off and being replaced with a call request from Marcie. It was enough to give the buxom girl a start, filling her with so much worry she could do little more that drape her arm in front of her nipples to protect her modesty, as she quickly answered the call.
“Nora, I just got a ping from your scale, is everything alright?” the businesswoman was quick to ask of her asset.
Just the person to get some answers from. “Fine,” Nora replied calmly, not wanting to potentially jeopardize her new job so early with radical hysteria. “It’s just my-“ she had to pause, searching for the right professional term for her bust and failing, “my boobs are a bit swollen,” a bit was an understatement, but she was trying to keep calm.
The crisply dressed woman nodded. “Yes, that was discussed in the side effects pamphlet for your starter medication. Ninety percent of our test women experienced some breast growth, particularly when 'full',” apparently Nora wasn’t the only one struggling for proper terminology. “A further thirty percent experienced extreme increases in breast size. It's purely based on genetics.”
Extreme increase? Two cup sizes in less than a week felt pretty extreme. Still, it was somewhat relief to know nothing was seriously wrong. “So I'm likely in that last category?” she inquired calmly.
“That’s still inconclusive. You've been on your maximum dosage, expediting the process, so this could very well be all the growth you experience,” Marcie offered back. “You’ve been feeling alright otherwise? No nausea?”
“Nope,” the blonde replied back. It was still nothing she couldn’t handle.
“Good,” her monitor replied. “Remember, like we discussed, you can begin taking the accelerant as soon as you start experiencing discharge.”
“And then I should bottle the produce and ship it off for testing,” she finished with a smile.
The tan businesswoman nodded. “Alright, take care miss Daniels,” she bid her client goodbye and ended the call, leaving the topless woman flush with embarrassment.
Unfortunately her bust wasn’t done. A couple days passed, and, more acutely aware of the goings on now, she noticed another solid inch or so when she was tying her apron for breakfast. The garment didn’t wrap her nicely, instead pushing to sink between her breasts, and create a deep cleavage even through her clothes.
The sight was enough to draw her lover up from the morning news, glasses sliding down his nose as he watched her struggle. “Everything alright?” he asked.
“Fine,” she was quick to reply, turning and giving him an eyeful of her enhanced assets.
He rose, causing her to blush when he approached and took her apron strings in his hands. Delicately he tied it, loose enough to take the stress away from her front. His fingers then grazed up her sides, tracing over her tender breasts and making her breath catch, before taking hold of the edges of the garment, and lightly tugging it from the deep canyon it had created. He fixed it across her chest, lingering over her bust a moment longer before withdrawing.
“Better?”
She turned to him with an embarrassed smile, and a tint still in her cheeks. “Yes,” the blonde answered. The look on her face made her desire obvious, but unfortunately they didn’t have the time to fool around; she had to finish making breakfast before Ben had to get to work. They settled for a kiss, before he returned to his seat to wait.
After that, she spent the rest of the morning frustrated, until she plopped down for some time with her virtual farms. She was still adjusting to her size, not that its continued changing was making that easy, so pulling her seat in they squished up against the edge; and had two wet spots appearing on her top.
Seeing them immediately struck the emergency switch in her brain. “Shoot,” she was immediately back up, scurrying to the fridge for her bottle of accelerant.
It was a semi-clear white fluid, held in a quart-sized glass bottle; nearly identical to the bottles she was to ship her milk in, save for a number of sticker labels. “Okay,” she rolled it over in her hand, searching for the dosage. “One spoonful.”
She grabbed up what she needed, pouring the medication into one of their deeper tablespoons and taking it quick. It didn’t taste bad; to the contrary is was distinctly sweet, and rather fluid, going down easily. As Marcie had warned though, it was quite potent.
Not a minute later there was an uncomfortable bubbling in her stomach, moving its way through her body. Looking down she visibly watched as her breasts swelled, stretching her top till it was taut across her chest, and growing the small wet spots until she could make out her nipples through the soaked fabric. “Shoot,” she found herself repeating as she shot back up to her feet. The blonde had the milker constructed in her office, she just needed a bottle. So, glass container in hand, she hurried to the machine, as drop after drop escaped into her shirt.
Tearing out of her top she quickly got comfortable, positioning the large suction cups over her swollen teats and screwing the bottle into place. Immediately the device got to work, tugging at her nipples to drawing forth her first batch of produce. It was an odd mixture of experiences: uncomfortable pressure from her full tits; pinching from the cups; and yet, satisfying relief as she watched the creamy bounty escaping her.
The whole thing took only a few minutes, leaving her with a few ounces of her own milk in a fine bottle. It wasn’t much, but yet it brought a huge smile to the curvy woman’s face. In that little bottle was the sign that all of this was coming to fruition, the discomfort of the past week was worth it, because she was going to be a Milk Girl." - "Milk Girl" by Madam Materia
