t was pitch black in my bedroom, I liked it that way. The blinds - tightly closed - shielded me from the obnoxiously bright beams of afternoon sun that were surely battering my window. I had been awake for hours, but could not bring myself to cast my hovel in anything other than dim, dreary shadow.
A pad of paper next to my laptop was equally graced with potential job offerings and angrily scratched lines atop them. Crossing them out had become as commonplace as writing them in to begin with, which had done a number on my hopes and dreams.
I was not technically depressed, but after submitting my two-hundredth application for post-secondary internships that day, I was in no mood to whistle "good morning" to Mother Nature. Summer was nearing an end, and without another year of education ahead of me it was daunting to finish the season without any prospects to look forward to.
I decided to close my laptop in defeat, then heard my mother's familiar footsteps come trotting down the hallway towards my door.
"Are you alive in there, little bear?" she called out.
I grumbled lamely. "Just barely."
She cracked the door open a couple of inches. "Can I come in?"
"Sure."
Mom pushed the door open with a cheerful smile plastered on her face, but her grin was not the first thing I noticed. As they always had, her breasts entered the room a full second before the rest of her did.
Her enormous udders, engorged from fulfilling their duty of being my little sister's personal milk maid, were unlike anything I had ever seen-- before or since.
The burden of hauling them around was as plain to see as the dark blue veins that spread across their milky white surface like the sprawling roots of an ancient tree. Their heft dragged her forward with each step she took, as though they, rather than her feet, dictated her pace.
Her nipples pointed forward at a slight downward angle. The fat nubs were often - and especially at that moment - so wickedly sharp that one would not have to struggle to locate and pinch them through a padded bra. To match the size of those firm, pointed peaks, I imagined that her areolas must have been the size of my palm.
It would have taken the hands of four men or more to completely cover the entirety of my mother's oversized breasts, and even then some of the soft dough would have surely oozed through the cracks of their conjoined fingers.
Every bra she owned was custom-made, but no matter the size of the titty-hammock, it remained impossible to contain them without exposing a sizable slice of cleavage. The way her tits jiggled when she walked had long since become a common sight, but I had never grown tired of it.
Mom sat down on the bed across from me and crossed her legs. "Bad luck with the applications, huh?"
I sighed. "I suppose no luck is better than bad luck."
"Well, I'm sure it'll turn around soon." Ever the optimist, Mom refused to linger on the subject for too long. "Are you busy today?"
"Not really."
She clapped her hands. "Great! Joe is leaving for a work trip this afternoon and I have an appointment with Dr. Sheila about... well, it doesn't matter. I just need you to watch your sister while I'm gone."
"My half-sister, you mean?"
Mom clicked her tongue in disapproval. "I know you're joking, Ian, but if you ever really talk about her like that I'm going to be very upset."
"Sorry."
It was uncommon for a woman with an eighteen-year-old son to decide to have another child, but I understood why she had chosen to do so. My birth father had left the two of us when I'd still been a kid, but his absence had come with an upside. It had led to the creation of an unbreakable bond between me and Mom, the existence of which likely rested solely on his disappearance.
We cared for each other more than anything in the world. She had refused to date anyone for the longest time, opting to devote every ounce of love and affection to me until I had grown up.
Once that had happened, she'd finally met Joseph-- the man that would become my step-father. Joe was a good man at heart, and since I did not have many memories of my own dad, it was easy for him to fill the role and see me as one of his own. That said, it had always been something of an open secret that he wanted kids that were truly his. Despite being between jobs at that time, he had not waited for gainful employment before convincing Mom that another baby would be a good idea.
Pregnancy is hard on a woman's body at any age, and given that Mom was well in her forties when they had met it had been considerable more difficult on her. I would often pitch in to alleviate as much of her stress as I could, but there had always been a much more sinister reason for my willingness to help out; I'd wanted to be around her as much as I could while she'd been pregnant.
Over the course of her pregnancy, her body had changed dramatically. Her breasts, which had been abnormally large to begin with, had ballooned to nearly twice their original size thanks to the influx of milk. More often than not, her shirt would be stained with dark, wet circles around her nipples when she'd needed to pump-- which had seemed to be all the time.
Mom, still seated on my bed, leaned in so that she was close enough to place her hands on top of mine. "Can I count on you to watch Cass while I'm gone, Bear?"
Unbeknownst to her, being bent over had made her elbows dig into the sides of her breasts. They squeezed the sides of her rounded bosom so firmly that they bulged out towards me. Part of me wanted to believe that she knew exactly what she was doing, and was using her blessings to coax me into saying yes, but I wrote that off as a shallow fantasy.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Y-yeah, Mom. You got it."
She leapt off the bed excitedly, hurling her titanic tits toward her face before they came crashing down against her sternum with a dull thud. The sound was simply mesmerizing, but Mom seemed completely insensate to it. "Oh, thank you, honey!"
"You know, I'd be happy to come with you." I knew that she harbored a particular disdain for the doctor's office, and given misery's love of company I figured she would want me to tag along.
She shook her head and walked towards the door with a hearty chuckle. "No, no. I don't think you want to see that side of me!"
Her attempt to dissuade me only made me more interested. "Yes I do! Come on, I know you hate going alone."
Mom paused and rested her hand against the door as though anchored to the wooden frame. "Are you sure, Bear? It's not going to be a fun doctor visit."
I shrugged. "They never are."
She mulled it over for a second. "Fine. But you have to put Cassie in her car seat. She's been fighting me lately."
Mom disappeared from view and staggered down the stairs. Her footsteps were twice as rapid as they had been when approaching my room - more compensation for those twin monsters.
I rushed to throw on whatever clothes I had that smelled the cleanest. I didn't want to give Mom a split second to reconsider the invitation or just leave without me. I wanted to be at that appointment, and there was nothing altruistic about it.
You see, ever since giving birth to Cassie, I had noticed a pattern in Mom's behaviour. Every time she would sneak away to breastfeed her, she would return with complaints about how full she still felt no matter how long my sister had suckled. I had no experience living around a pregnant woman, so at first it had seemed normal.
As time passed, however, I'd begun to suspect that Mom was built differently than other women when it came to her milk production. I'd searched online for answers, and had come to the conclusion that she was making an extraordinary amount of breast milk, and not just for someone her age-- for any age!
Despite what I'd said, my horny brain very much disagreed that it would not be a fun doctor's appointment... for me. The rest of me knew it was highly unlikely that any of my perverted fantasies would come to pass, but I was willing to gamble on any odds. I didn't feel like I had anything to lose.
I raced to put my shoes on and lazily tied the laces in a loose knot. When I entered the garage, Mom was behind the wheel and scrolling through her phone while Cassie babbled baby-talk from her unbuckled car seat.
I raised an eyebrow. "You didn't want to strap her in?"
She smirked. "I asked her, actually, and she said she wanted you to do it."
It was no secret that securing Cass in her car seat was a tedious undertaking that one would rather avoid if given the chance.
I hovered over my little sister and locked eyes with the giggling goblin as we prepared to do battle. I pulled the seatbelt over her tiny body, which instantly encouraged her to start waving her arms in my face just as mightily as she kicked her feet.
"Cut it out, Cassie," I whined.
"Gah!" she garbled back.
"Cassandra! Stop blocking the friggin' thing!" I struggled against her repeated attempts to dislodge the seatbelt buckle with her incessant squirming.
Mom turned in the driver's seat to reprimand her unruly children. "Don't yell at her, Ian. She doesn't know any better."
"Ah-gah!" Cass reasserted, as firmly as one could at four months of age.
I rolled my eyes. "She's the one yelling at me!"
"She's a baby!" Mom shot back.
Cassandra giggled and clapped her hands excitedly, switching her gaze between me and Mom to see which of us would next take to hollering. She murmured some more unintelligible baby talk, and Mom pretended to have understood her.
"That's right, Cassie. You tell him!"
"Please," I begged. "Do not tell me that the two of you have some sort of R2D2 type of thing going on."
"Agmam," Cass mumbled.
Mom chuckled. "Don't be rude, sweetheart. I think your brother smells just fine."
I finally snuck the seatbelt around Cass's tiny fist and clicked it into place. "Ha! Got it! Quick, tell me how to say 'in your face' in baby talk."
Mom gave me a sarcastic round of applause. "Congrats, honey. You've successfully outwitted an infant."
With my victory sullied, I slunk into the passenger seat and clicked my own seatbelt into place. I connected my phone to the car and started playing music before Mom could turn on the radio, and had Pantera playing on the speakers before we left the driveway.
Mom scowled. "Can you play something nicer, please?"
"Why?" I asked. "She seems to like it. Don't you, Cassie?"
Mom flicked her eyes to the rear view mirror to find her daughter aggressively rocking to the harsh power chords. "Well, there goes my chance of getting her to like Josh Groban."
"Everybody likes Groban, Mom. There's still hope for her music taste."
Mom clicked her tongue. "Fine, but the day I see her making little devil horns with her tiny fingies is the day I ground you."
I did not know if she was joking, but laughed anyway. "Mom, I'm eighteen. You can't ground me!"
She shrugged her shoulders arrogantly. "You have no idea what kinds of things I can make you do."
The insinuation - unintentional or not - made my balls tighten. I knew she was right, and it would have only taken one brief glimpse of her swollen, naked breasts for me to obediently carry out any orders she may have given me.
To keep her happy, I did eventually switch the music to something lighter that she could hum along to. Her sense of rhythm was not the best, but I had always found her melodic humming to be fantastically soothing.
We pulled into the parking lot a few seconds before the end of "You Raise Me Up," so I let the engine run for a few extra seconds so she could sing along with the final bars.
"See?" she touted proudly. "I told you that Groban would be better."
I rolled my eyes, but I was happy to concede to her. "Right as always, Mom."
She blew me a kiss. "If you want to make it up to me, you can get your sister out of her car seat."
I unbuckled Cassie, which was thankfully easier than strapping her into it, and loaded her into her carrier. I played up how much she weighed, acting like the bundle of joy was impossible to lift. "Oh, that's why we're here? Because tubby here has been eating bricks on the sly, right?"
Mom snickered. "It's rude to comment on a woman's weight."
I looked down at the chubby-cheeked gremlin and blew a raspberry, which sent her into a fit of giggles. "The lil' porker can't even understand me, anyway."
Mom swatted my shoulder and made for the door to the office. "But I can! Besides, she doesn't eat anything. She's is still on an all-milk diet."
My stomach grumbled with a jealous hunger. "Well, maybe she's blending the bricks into a smoothie then."
Mom opened the glass door and kept it in place with her foot so that Cass and I could enter. "I wish, Bear. Maybe then we wouldn't be here."
I raised an eyebrow. "So we are here because of your boobs, aren't we?"
Mom winced, rendered speechless for a second. She remained holding the door long after I had walked past her. "I-- er, I mean... yeah, I guess."
Based on her deflated body language, she had not intended to reveal the reason for her visit so early, if at all.
She raised her head to look at me. "Did you know?"
I shrugged, but trying to downplay my excitement was as difficult as averting my gaze from her magnificent breasts. "I had an idea. They've been... well, you know."
"Bigger?" Mom offered with a disgruntled sigh.
I gulped. "I guess so, sure. I mean I haven't really noticed, though."
She released a chortle that came out like a cough, catching her off guard. "Seriously? You haven't taken the odd look here or there, you mean?"
I licked my lips, trying to disguise how pathetically dry my mouth had become. "I mean... maybe here or there. But--"
"No 'buts!'" Mom interrupted with a wag of her finger. "You're a lil' boobie peeper, aren'tcha, Bear?"
I turned a deep rouge, and she did not break character until my face reached a color so dark that the doctor would have been forgiven if she'd thought I was choking to death.
"Relax," she said calmly with a sincere smile. "I'm just teasing."
Teasing or not, it was devastating to know that Mom had actually noticed the occasional - or, more accurately, the frequent - glances I had spared to her billowing cleavage. I had always thought I was being subtle, but clearly her second go at motherhood had not dulled her senses enough for me to get away with it.
I wanted to pry for more details, but did not want to be overheard by the other patients asking my mother how often she had seen me staring at her tits, so I bit my tongue.
She signed in at the front desk. Then we took a seat in the waiting area.
I hated the smell of doctor's offices. How bad would it reek in here if they didn't make it smell like every other doctor's office in the world? I wondered as I scooted closer to Mom, hoping to use the cloud of her floral perfume to mask the medicinal scent.
She had busied herself with a magazine, so I pretended to watch the news on the tiny television hanging from the ceiling in the corner of the room. In truth, I was using my peripheral vision and height advantage over her to peer down her shirt while she flipped through the flimsy pages of her tabloid. It was a masterclass in stealth, or so I thought.
Without so much as glancing away from the magazine, Mom whispered to me as she flipped the page. "You're doing it again."
Her words took a second to register, and when they finally did I acted like I was stretching to have an excuse to look the other way. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Uh huh, sure." The slight upward turn of the corner of her mouth told me that she was not nearly as disappointed as I imagined a mother should be upon finding their adult son fixated on their milk-filled bosom.
She flipped the page and nudged my knee with hers to get my attention. "See anything you like, Bear?"
My heart leapt into my throat and blocked any coherent words from escaping. The urge to crane my neck and plunge face first between her tits was one so powerful that the simple act of denying it had given me tunnel vision.
Mom lifted her head to do a quick scan of her surroundings. Once satisfied, she gave me a quick glance to ensure that I was watching, then straightened her back so that her boobs jutted forward. She rolled her shoulders in unison, making an intentional effort to push her tits together with the insides of her forearms so they ground against each other with every circle.
My guts were braided rope, tied into so tight a knot that they could have held a raging locomotive in place. It took every ounce of self-control that I possessed to stop myself from liberally pawing at my cock, which had already begun to harden at the slightest exposure to Mom's cleavage.
I wondered if she would have been so comfortable teasing me had she known just how perverted my thoughts were. It was no accident of adolescence that she continually found me staring at her breasts, but rather unadulterated lust. I did not simply look because they were there. I looked because they were hers.
Mom nudged my knee again and leaned over to whisper into my ear. "Sorry, honey. I'll stop messing with you."
I let out an awkward laugh. "Ha ha, yeah. You got me, Mom."
She scanned me up and down with curiosity glimmering in her eye, but did not press further. She simply pursed her lips and returned to her magazine as though nothing had happened.
Seconds later, a woman in blue scrubs entered the waiting room. "Sophia Grace?"
Mom raised her hand. "Present!"
The woman gave her a weak smile. "Lovely. Right this way, please."
Mom closed her magazine and stood up to readjust her skirt. She took a couple steps towards the room we had been called to, but turned around when she realized that I was not following her.
"Are you coming?"
I had not wanted to be presumptive, and since I had already invited myself along to the clinic with her I did not want to assume that I would also be invited into the examination room. "Are you sure you want me in there?"
Mom seemed confused that I had not immediately come trotting after her. "Of course, silly. You came here for moral support, after all. Can't do much of that from out here, can you?"
I can't believe she wants me to be in the room with her! I thought excitedly, hoping that there would be an opportunity to catch a glimpse of her exposed breast should the doctor demand a physical examination. I knew it was yet another lofty dream, but after I'd been invited to join her in the exam room my brain began to run wild with possibilities. Maybe they'll even ask me to do the physical exam. That would be awesome!
The inside of the examination room was, as one might expected, almost entirely white to impart an aura of purity, much like the unpleasant scent of insistent clean that still haunted my nostrils.
Mom got up on the exam table, crumpling the paper sheet that covered it with her plump bottom. I sat in the small chair opposite her with Cassie's carrier at my feet. From Mom's perch high up on the table above me, I was granted an upward view of her that made me feel like I was a little boy again. Just as I had back then, I would need to crane my neck to see her face over the bulging swell of her breasts.
There was a knock at the door that pulled me out of my perverted daze, followed by the entrance of Dr. Sheila. She was a bespectacled woman that appeared only a few years older than Mom. "Good afternoon, Sophia."
"Hey, Karen," Mom replied. "Good to see you again."
Dr. Sheila - or "Karen," as I'd just learned -- closed the door behind her and flipped through the papers on her clipboard. "And so soon, too. Did it get worse?"
Mom nodded. "Much worse, yeah. She's drinking less, and I'm making more than ever."
Karen opened her mouth to speak, but made eye contact with me over the top of her clipboard before she could. She extended to hand towards me.
"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've had the pleasure."
I shook it. "Ian, her favorite son."
She smiled at me. "Right, of course. Are you sure you want to be in here for this, Ian?"
"Yes!" I half-shouted, reining in my enthusiasm partway through the exclamation. "Just here to support Mom, is all."
Karen gave Mom a confused look. "Hmm, okay then. It's your call, Sophia."
Mom shrugged. "He's heard me whingeing about the pain already. It's no secret."
The doctor pinched her glasses on either side and pulled them until they separated in the middle, then she lowered them to her collarbone and reconnected the magnetic link. "Is that so?"
I cringed. "I mean, it's not like I tried to notice."
Nobody seemed convinced, but neither of them grilled me about it.
"Well," Karen resumed, "with that out of the way, your tests came back, and it turns out I was right. It's a classic case of hyperlactation."
Mom perked up. "Classic? As in, like, this is normal?"
The doctor scrunched her nose. "Hmm. Perhaps I should have chosen my words more carefully. No, it is not classic in that sense. In fact, you are one of the most extreme cases of excessive milk production that I have ever come across."
Mom slumped her shoulders. "Okay, so, this is not normal."
"Decidedly not. Has the pain gotten any better?"
Mom shook her head. "Worse - and it only goes away when she nurses! I can't do it myself, and the stupid machine we bought keeps breaking every couple days, leaving me with these!"
She accentuated her point by grabbing hold of her bloated tits, one in each hand, and roughly squishing them in frustration. I sank my teeth into my tongue so hard that the metallic tinge of blood soaked into my taste buds.
"You need a more reliable machine," Karen insisted. "The risk of going even a single day without pumping could be dire. If Cassie isn't hungry enough to drain you, you need to get that pump working."
Mom scowled. "Yeah, well, they aren't cheap, and Joe is still looking for work so there's no insurance to cover it."
"Between the extreme size inflation, their drastically increased weight, and the staggering consistency of your milk, I'd say that your health and comfort aren't prices worth paying instead. You need to listen to your body, Sophia"
Mom hung her head and directed her anger to her humongous tits. "You bastards are more trouble than you're worth." Then she looked up at Karen, and nodded towards the pad of prescription paper in the pocket of her scrubs. "Can you please just write something on that magic paper that will fix me?"
The doctor looked apprehensive. "Maybe. I mean, technically I can, but... well, the pills I have in mind don't always work as intended."
"What do you mean?" Mom asked.
Karen pushed her glasses further up her nose. "Sometimes, in rare cases, they can make the hyperlactation worse."
Mom was insistent. "I need something!"
It was clear that the doctor did not want to resort to the pills as anything other than a last resort. "I tell most patients to just suck it up, but I suppose you're not 'most patients.'"
Mom rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks. Don't make me beg. I'm a grown woman. I know what I'm getting into."
The doctor gave an unconvinced sigh, then scribbled something on a pad of paper. "Fine. Come back in a week and we'll see if anything has changed, okay?"
Mom nodded. "Thank you."
Karen handed her the paper, but resisted when Mom tried to grab it from her. "I'm serious about the side effects. Be careful, Sophia."
Mom snatched the flimsy paper prescription with a smile that was equally flaccid. "Pinky swear."
Karen wished us luck, then scurried out of the room.
I became alarmingly aware of just how quiet the room was without the two of them gabbing about Mom's boobs, but Cassie was quick to fill the silence.
She babbled something meaningless in baby-talk, but the gibberish made Mom chuckle. "You can say that again, sweetheart."
I got up from the chair and picked up my sister's carrier. "Is there any chance that she asked to stop at McDonald's on the way home?"
Mom rolled her eyes with a playful grin. "No, Bear, she did not. Everything I eat, she eats, too. I am not gonna feed her crap like that!"
"Hmm. What about Greek? You probably have to take those pills with food, right?"
Mom's stomach made a loud, grotesque gurgle that silenced the both of us. She bit her bottom lip. "Oh, um... that sounds kind of nice, actually."
To further raise my value as a dependable assistant, I offered to chauffeur them to a tiny Greek spot that we had been to a couple of times. Mom wanted to get a salad, but the aroma of tzatziki smothered souvlaki wraps - which I could smell even from outside the restaurant - was a call that she could not resist.
We pulled up to the restaurant just in time for Mom's stomach to release another unladylike gurgle. "Pardon me, jeez. I must be hungrier than I thought!"
I took her order, and pretended to take Cass's, too, then headed into the restaurant. I walked out less than five minutes later and triumphantly raised the bag of fragrant Greek food to the sky.
Mom applauded my arrival and leaned over to open the door for me. "Thank you so much, honey. My tummy growled three more times while you were in there!"
I chuckled as slid into the driver seat and placed the bag of food on my lap. "I told you this would be a good idea! Plus, Cassie's diet could use some variety."
Mom arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
I pulled the souvlaki wraps out of the bag and handed her one. "We've got to diversify her palate so she doesn't fixate on dairy for her whole life."
The foolish idea made Mom giggle, but she was intent on making sure that I understood just how scientifically inaccurate it was. "You know she can't actually taste it, right? It still just tastes like milk to her."
It was a slow day about town, so I felt comfortable enough eating and driving at the same time. I put the car into reverse and pulled out of the parking space while gnawing on my wrap.
"I know that," I said, "but surely she can, like, sense that it tastes different, right? Maybe tzatziki makes your milk super creamy, you know?"
Mom, with a mouthful of partially chewed chicken souvlaki, covered her maw so that her food did not come flying out when she snorted. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
More than you know! I thought.
"More than you know," I said.
Wait... fuck. I said the quiet part out loud!
It was a devastating realization, but the words has escaped my lips faster than I could catch them. I followed them up with nonsense. "Like... you know what I mean?" Then I hurriedly shoved pita into my face to shut myself up, like I should have done right away.
Mom cast a side eye my way. "I think so. You're saying you want to know what my milk tastes like, right?"
I choked on my food, and had to clear my throat after a few embarrassing coughs. It turned out we were all very lucky that there were practically no other cars on the road. "I-I don't know what-- it's like, no I don't want to. It's just..."
"Oh, Bear," Mom cooed. "You are absolutely beet red right now!"
The heat searing my cheeks told me that she was not exaggerating. "Thanks for pointing that out. I thought you said you were gonna stop messing with me?"
"This is different. This is just teasing!" She wiggled in her seat, giddy to have provoked such a visceral reaction. "You're pretty easy to tease, huh?"
I took a deep breath to steady my shaking nerves. "Yeah, I guess so. Maybe not while I'm driving, though?"
That actually put a damper on things. "Oh, right," Mom said.
We pulled up to the pharmacy near our house just as I finished my wrap, so I ran inside to fill the prescription while Mom entertained Cassie. There was one elderly man ahead of me, which gave me a few moments to reflect on the day's events.
"Hyperlactation" was the word Dr. Sheila had used, and merely having it cross my mind again produced an instantaneous somersault in my lower gut. Perhaps it was the Greek food I had rushed to devour in the car, but I thought it was more likely a sign that my fixation with Mom's breasts was growing stronger, and threatening to get out of hand. It was officially impossible to conceal, which I had apparently not done a good job of for quite some time. I did not know when Mom had first noticed it, but it had clearly been on her radar for long enough that she'd recognized a pattern. Still, she had never chastised me for it, or even asked me to stop.
If anything, I felt as though she were encouraging it. Whether it was a source of harmless fun for her or something more, I was not sure. At the very least, I had a label for that which I'd been curious about for several months.
"Hyperlactation." My mom's tits are the size of watermelons because of hyperlactation. Why is that so damn hot?
"Uh, sir?" the pharmacist called out.
I shook myself out of the fog and stepped up to the counter. When I was done filling the prescription, I could not have recited more than a few of the words that the pharmacist had said to me. I was so excited to leave that I'd barely looked at them while they'd been filling the tiny orange bottle with tiny yellow pills.
I practically flew back to the car, as I could not wait a second longer to see Mom's face smiling back at me when I got there.
She was bouncing Cassie on her knee, and made her little hand wave to me as I approached. "He's back! Hooray!" She threw both of Cass's fists into the air in celebration.
"Sorry about the wait. I got a little distracted."
Mom grabbed the paper bag from my hands. "Why? Was there some other mommy with big boobs walking around in there?"
I was taken aback. "Jesus, Mom. Come on!"
That reaction had been exactly what she had wanted to get out of me. "Gosh, you have to be a little harder to tease than that, Bear."
"Or you could just, you know, stop teasing me."
Mom rooted around the bag on her lap, and produced from it the orange tube of pills. "Fat chance." As long as it continued to get a rise out of me, we both knew how true to those words she would remain.
She took one of the pills after she had finished her wrap and chased it with a sip of water.
I looked her up and down. "Feel any different?"
She thought for a moment, then shook her head. "No, but that's probably for the best. It would be weird if I felt something that quickly."
The fear of side effects lingered in my mind, but I did not want to worry her by obsessing over the worst case scenario.
I drove us home to the anything-but-dulcet tones of Shakira, which, as one might have guessed, was for Mom's benefit. Much like we had at the clinic, we sat in the driveway for a few seconds after parking so that she could finish singing - that time, about the truthfulness of her hips.
When her performance was finished, I shepherded Cassie inside, then handed her off to Mom. Our arrival back home was timed perfectly with Cass's afternoon nap, so Mom put her down in her crib for what I hoped would be the better part of an hour. It was customary for Cass to nurse before she slept, and Mom leapt at the chance to have some of her milk drained.
She was not the only one in need of some shuteye, so I bid them farewell and sequestered myself to my bedroom while Mom breastfed Cassie in hers.
I knew that if I had it my way, I would have stayed back and watched her feast from start to finish. Mom had demonstrated a surprising degree of openness by talking with me about her hyperlactation, and even more so by actually letting me go into the exam room with her - a decision that continued to baffle me - but I still could not imagine that she would invite me in for a private viewing of the captivating feeding ritual.
I laid in bed, chasing sleep that I feared would not come while I was plagued with vivid images of drinking the milk straight out of Mom's enormous breasts. I wanted to latch my lips around the firm, pink nub and suckle until my jaw went numb, filling my gut with the divine, full-fat nectar dribbling from her bountiful bosom.
It was from the depths of that torturous daydream that I was roused by the call of my mother from her bedroom.
"Bear? Can you come in here?"
I was confused at first, thinking that her voice had been speaking to me in my dreams, but quickly came to when I registered the alarm in her tone.
"Bear?" she called more urgently.
I flew out of my bed and rushed to her room, where I threw open the door, nearly ripping the knob off as I did. "Mom? What's going on?"
She was sitting against the headboard with the covers pulled up to her neck. Her face bore the telltale signs of pain and discomfort.
The shades were drawn, thrusting her bedroom into a den of shadow that had likely been intended to help her sleep. On the floor beside her was the automatic milking machine that I had yet to see in action. It was plugged in to the wall, but completely devoid of any blinking green lights that would have indicated its functionality.
"Promise you won't laugh," she demanded.
"I promise! Just tell me what's going on!"
Mom nibbled nervously on the covers, seemingly intent on using the blankets as a makeshift shield. "Well, I finished feeding Cassie, then went to put her down in her crib."
I was no fool, and thus had a pretty good idea what she was hiding from me, but found myself strangely enthralled with the reveal. I did not want to rush her.
Mom continued, and as she did, the worried expression on her face grew more intense. "She drank so, so much, but I still felt kind of full after. I thought maybe the pills would kick in after my nap, so I went to lie down, but..."
"But?"
Mom sighed and winced in pain. "But they're really hurting, Bear. I couldn't even sleep. I've been tossing and turning ever since I put her down."
I gestured to the electronic breast pump that sat on the floor next to her mattress. "Uh, what about the machine?"
She pointed to the lifeless hunk of metal. "Dead, or not working, or on the fritz. I don't know! All I know is that it's not fucking milking me like it should."
Tingles sprouted from the base of my spine and scaled my vertebrae until the buzzing reached my skull. I knew that Mom reserved foul language for special occasions.
"Do you need the machine?" I asked flatly.
She nodded with a disgruntled sigh. "Pretty much. I tried to use my hands, but they're too sensitive. Squeezing them hurts even more than usual.
"There, look." She pointed to the large, wooden dresser that sat perpendicular to her bed. "I even tried to use the dresser to give me some added pressure, but it hurt too much."
My eyes followed her finger and almost popped out of my head when they found what she was referring.
Against the dark, walnut-colored wood, the pale hue of Mom's milk droplets were like a tiny constellation of stars peppering the night sky.
Mom cleared her throat in an attempt to divert my wide-eyed attention away from the dresser. "I need suction, Bear. I tried to do it myself, but--"
I snapped my head to face her in a dazed state of awe that left my jaw loose. "You tried to suck on your own boobs?"
She shot me a look of utter confusion. "Seriously, Bear? Is that what you're focused on?"
I raised my shoulders up next to my ears out of embarrassment. "Sorry, sorry. What can I do?"
With that comment, Mom was the one to shamefully recede into the comfort of the covers. She pulled them up to cover everything below her eyes, which she hastily diverted.
Under her breath, just barely loudly enough for me to hear, she mumbled, "I can't believe I'm doing this."
Then, she summoned a deep breath and lay the blanket down to expose her gargantuan, swollen breasts.
On the front of her light blue tank-top, where each of her wickedly sharp nipples poked through the fabric, were two dark, dampened circles that were each the diameter of a grapefruit. Had her shirt been white, I imagined I would have been able to see straight through the heavily sodden cloth.
I gasped in surprise. "Wow, Mom."
She sniffled. "I know, it's gross."
I raced to the edge of her bed so fast that I almost tripped over my own feet, where I then sat with my legs hanging off of the edge. "No, no, Mom. It's not gross at all. It's just... a lot."
"To take in, you mean?"
I chuckled. "No. A lot of milk."
She blushed and smiled down into her cleavage with another weak sniffle. "You can say that again. They've never been so bloated before"
I straightened my back. "Just tell me what to do."
Mom sat up until her shoulders touched the headboard and pursed her lips. "I don't want you to overreact, and I want you to say no if you're uncomfortable."
My heart punched the inside of my ribcage with every powerful beat. I could think of exactly one thing that I wanted her to say, and I waited with bated breath for her to say it. She has to say it, I thought to myself, mustering up every last bit of restraint. Don't suggest it. Don't say it. Don't even think it.
"There's no other way to say it, Bear." Mom folded her hands together and chewed pensively on the corner of her mouth, dragging one of her canines across her plump lower lip. "I need you to milk me."
The angels sang. I tried my damnedest to pretend not to hear them. Unfortunately, that also made it seem like I hadn't heard my mom.
She squirmed back and forth on her butt. "Like now, please."
I came to my senses. "R-right now?"
She nodded urgently, her face contorted in discomfort. "Unless you're weirded out! Just be honest with me, sweetheart."
That was the furthest thing from what I was feeling. It was hard to even believe that I was conscious, since the scene playing out before me seemed to have been ripped straight out of my wildest dreams.
"How do we even do this?" I asked. "I'm bigger than Cassie, so you can't hold me the way you do her."
Mom was flustered for a brief second, seemingly shocked that I had taken less than a few seconds to mull it over. "Uh, well, I was thinking I could sit just like this, and you could lie down with head here..." She patted her leg with one hand. "... while you nurse."
My mouth, which had previously been drier than a desert, suddenly flooded with saliva. I was literally drooling over the prospect of drinking from her, and wasted no time in accepting her incredible offer.
I climbed onto my hands and knees. "If you're sure, Mom."
She gave a reluctant nod. "I just want it to stop hurting. I know I sound crazy, so thank you for doing this for me."
I crawled over to her and lowered my head onto her lap so that our outstretched legs formed each arm of an "L" shape, with my head happily resting atop her left thigh. Even when Mom straightened her back, her sagging breasts hung so low that the one above my face drooped down far enough for the underside to completely smother my nose and mouth. large, wet circle around her nipple was perfectly positioned above my mouth. Once her top was off, I would only need to part my lips for her nipple to land directly into my mouth.
I could not see her face, or much of anything, over the swell that eclipsed my vision.
Mom tucked a hand under her boob and lifted it off of my face so that I could breathe. "Are you okay down there, Bear?"
"Y-yeah, I'm good." I hoped the cracking of my voice did not relay how excited I was to be acting out a fantasy of mine.
Thanks to her thin shirt, her body heat wafted through the fabric. It was just a hint of what was to come, and I knew that once the barrier was removed I would be sweating under the steamy pile of breast meat.
Mom reached out with her left hand and rubbed my chest in big, soothing motions. "Thank you for doing this for me. I know it's not what most mothers would ask of their sons, but I don't know what else to do."
"Well," I muttered from under her boob, "I think the first thing to do is to take your shirt off."
Mom patted my chest two times. "Thank you for the advice, honey."
She reached under the hem of her shirt with both hands. "You might want to cover your face for this next part, Bear."
"Why?"
She giggled. "So that you don't get a black eye, silly."
The bluntness of her advice made me shudder. I had never expected to be warned by my mother that her falling breasts might injure me, and did not have time to recover from the shock of her straightforward claim before she had begun pulling off her tank-top.
She lifted her breasts into the air along with her shirt, and when she finally pulled the garment off, the newly released behemoths came toppling down to land - with a loud slap - against my face.
"W-whoa," I stammered, my voice muffled by the sweltering blanket.
"I know," she said. "It's a lot."
It was one thing to dream about it, but even with the frequency with which I had done so I still found myself stunned when the hot, heaping scoop of reality was dumped onto my face. "W-what should I do?" I asked.
"Just... suck, I guess," she offered meekly.
That was all the instruction I required. I acted on instinct, guided by impulses whose motives I did not question, and started to kiss and nip at her soft, naked flesh as I had always wanted to.
I lapped at her smooth skin, flattening my tongue against the glassy surface to taste as much of her at once as I could. I suckled a small portion of her flabby breast into my mouth, nursing on her plump flesh hard enough to leave behind a distinctive red mark where my lips had been sealed.
"Uh, sweetheart?" Mom squeaked anxiously. "That feels nice, but you're not gonna get any milk out of there."
I scooted further down her thigh so that my head was closer to her knee, then tilted myself so that I was face to face with a one-eyed giant. I stared into that fat, pink pupil that jutted outward a full inch. I was delighted to find that my assumptions about her areolas - namely, my prediction that they were the size of teacup saucers - had been correct.
The wide, rosy circles were dotted around the perimeter with dozens of tiny milk ducts. Her nipple was so hard, and sticking out so far, that it gave her areola a slightly bumpy appearance from the way her skin had contracted, imparting soft, delicate folds around the base that made my mouth water.
Upon the tip of the rigid nub sat a glistening pearl of milk, wobbling gently at the tiniest movement of Mom's body. It looked poised to fall off at any moment, but defied the odds to remain in place.
Her pale, angelic complexion made the branching wires of dark, cerulean veins scattered throughout her breasts stand out that much more. My eyes traced their path, starting at her nipple and following the blue tendril as it darted left, then right, then left again, weaving a lightning bolt pattern through her succulent flesh that disappeared near her collarbone.
I felt like I was seeing something that had been locked away for generations - finally bearing witness to unbelievable beauty that few others had ever seen.
"See anything you like?" Mom repeated her words from the clinic earlier that day, though her voice did not contain the same confidence as it had back then.
I got the sense that she was trying to bring some lightheartedness to what might have been an otherwise awkward situation, but I was so horny that I did not have the good sense to feel as uncomfortable as I should have. All I wanted to do was nurse from her, and could spare no time for thoughts that would shame me for that desire.
I latched onto her nipple and was instantly graced with the flavor of her rich, fatty milk dissolving on my taste buds. The droplet that had been threatening to fall finally broke free and hit my tongue, where it melted like butter in a hot pan.
I carefully applied a hint of suction. I was not sure how hard Cassie usually sucked, and I did not want to make Mom's pain worse, so I gingerly increased the pressure as though I were trying to slurp a thick milkshake through a thin straw.
I wanted to find the perfect breakpoint that would flood my mouth with milk without causing her to wince, and was surprised at first when only a disappointingly small dribble of milk came out. Even when I reached the point that I had originally thought would be too hard, Mom was quick to correct me.
"Harder, honey," she insisted as she rubbed my chest.
"Really?" I asked without removing her nipple from my mouth.
"It's okay," she cooed. "Your sister has quite the mouth on her. I can handle it."
I doubled down, pursing my lips to extract a stream of fresh milk that was much warmer than I had expected it to be. My eyes widened with surprise when the heated cream spurted forth, both due to its staggering warmth and because of its sweet, delectable flavor.
It was nothing like the dairy I was used to, and I tried to keenly analyze each of the differences in taste like a breastmilk sommelier. Mom's white nectar was more akin to almond milk, with its distinct nuttiness and subtle hint of sweetness setting it apart from the two-percent I would often pour on my cereal.
I opened my mouth and sucked in a small breath to aerate the pool of cream stored within my cheeks. Due to the size of the mouthful, my attempt to inhale sent particles of the protein-rich liquid straight to the back of my throat.
I choked on the sudden influx of aspirated milk, sputtering noisily with Mom's tit still lodged in my mouth. I coughed a couple of times to clear my throat, but she was already swooping in to soothe me as though I had woken from a nightmare.
She rubbed my chest soothingly with her left hand, while raking the nails of her other though my hair with long, calming strokes. "Slowly, little Bear. Drink slowly."
She cradled the back of my head, and massaged her thumb in circles around the crown where my hair grew from my scalp. "That felt nice, but there's still a lot in there. Still thirsty, honey?"
I darted my tongue out to catch the dribble of milk that had escaped from the corner of my mouth. "It doesn't hurt, does it?"
She stroked my hair. "It feels nice to have some of the pressure relieved, but you've got a ways to go."
My stomach growled, revealing the true extent of my appetite. I reattached my lips to her stiff nipple and flicked it with my tongue. Mom gave a short gasp and flinched when I grazed against it, so I pushed the firm nub back and forth a couple of times to elicit a similar reaction.
"H-hey, that's not s-sucking," she stammered with a wildly fluctuating tone that revealed her trepidation, but she did not tell me to stop.
Her body shivered in place, her nails rattling against my scalp. She sighed softly once she appeared to have grown used to the sensation, but the stammer underlying her deep breaths revealed that adrenaline was indeed coursing through her veins.
I traced a circle around the circumference of her bumpy areola with the tip of my tongue, then dug my teeth gingerly into her nipple.
"Oh, Bear," she murmured. "That feels really nice."
I started sucking again, but I wanted more. I wanted to be absolutely inundated with more milk than I could literally stomach. I had an idea that I hoped would encourage the flow of white, molten gold, but did not want to take Mom by surprise.
"Mom," I called from beneath her cumbersome breast. "Can I touch you? Like, with my hands?"
She was quiet for a few seconds, her left hand bunching up my t-shirt while she thought it over. "I guess that would be okay."
"Are you sure?"
She nodded. "If you think it will help, then sure. Just be gentle. I can handle sucking, but my boobs are super sensitive."
I reached up and wrapped my hands - one above, one below, so that my thumbs and pointer fingers touched - around Mom's bulky breast. It was enlarged to a monstrous size by what I imagined to be an entire gallon of fresh milk weighing it down.
I applied a firm grip with both hands and dragged them downward as though I were emptying a colossal piping bag full of runny frosting. I was careful to observe her reaction, and softened my touch any time she would flinch.
The pressure of my firm grip made her tit bulge slightly, which ushered milk towards the only place that the mounting pressure could be released. A tepid burst of sweet milk splattered the roof of my mouth while another stream sprayed against the inside of my cheek. It wasn't long before the leaking faucet had filled my maw.
I paused the milking technique for a moment and collected the pool at the back of my throat. With one mighty gulp, I swallowed the mouthful of nutrient-rich cream into my stomach.
Mom groaned without paying half a mind to decency. "Oh fuck, Bear! That feels amazing. Keep going, please."
I kneaded back and forth, squeezing with one hand, then the other, in a consistent rhythm. As I drained more milk from her breast, Mom accepted a greater degree of force without wincing when I kneaded the fatty tissue.
I filled my mouth over and over again, routinely swallowing it whenever I felt it bubble up and threaten to seep from my pursed lips. I was wholly incautious in pursuit of my fantasy; only when my cheeks were bloated to their limit would I allow myself to ingest the hard-earned reward of my patient suckling. I symbolically imbued my insides with her essence, lining my stomach with the ambrosia that was intended to help my little sister grow up big and strong.
My intense fixation with drinking my fill of Mom's special homemade nectar made it impossible to focus on anything else, including my own body. I had not noticed the incredibly obvious change occurring in my shorts, but quickly became hyper-aware of it once Mom asked, "Um, Bear? Are you okay?"
My head in a fog, I offered a mere "Huh?" in response, barely breaking my stride so that I could continue to nurse.
Mom giggled and rubbed my chest with the palm of her hand. "You are super hard right now." She followed up the observation with a nervous giggle. "I don't mean to laugh! I just didn't think you'd get so flustered over these saggy, old milk bags."
The vulgarity of her comment made my cock flex, and that time I certainly felt it do so.
Mom gasped when the bulge throbbed. "Whoa. Does it always do that? Can I even ask that? Is that too weird? Are you feeling weird?" Her honest questions came as a stream of consciousness. I found it quite comical considering the circumstances.
I released her perky nipple with a loud smack. "Mom, I literally can feel your milk sloshing around in my stomach right now. All of this is kind of weird!"
"Well, then," she said hesitantly, "can I make it even weirder?"
"Uh, sure." I did not think that would be possible, but I desperately wanted to see where she was heading.
The last thing that I expected was for her to place her hand flat against my stomach without another word. She sprawled out her fingers, widening her digits so that she could tug my shirt up a little bit to reveal my abdomen. Then she then laid her hand back down to press against the exposed skin.
It had been a long time since a woman had touched me in that way, and it felt twice as exciting to have Mom be the one to break the dry spell.
Her middle finger tickled my navel, sending shivers up my spine. She pushed her hand downward, sneakily sliding underneath the gap between my stomach and my shorts until the tips of her fingers grazed my pubic bone.
I tried to pretend that I did not notice-- that I was so distracted by her breasts that I wasn't expecting the incredibly obvious move she was about to make.
Her hand travelled further under my shorts, slithering down until the waistband was level with her wrist. Had I looked down, I would not have been able to see her hand at all, save for the obvious bulge that her knuckles made in the fabric around my groin.
With nothing to separate her fingers from my naked flesh, and my erection making a spacious tent in my shorts, she was free to carefully - as one would handle a bird's egg - coil each of her tiny fingers around the base of my cock.
Neither of us spoke while she fitted her tiny hand around me. She settled into a comfortable position that saw each of her nimble fingers encircling the rigid meat and cradling it tenderly.
"Can you..." She swallowed a dry lump, her lips sticking together when she parted them to speak again. "Can you make it jump?"
I smirked confidently. "You mean like this?"
Mom gasped with a startled giggle, the surprise of which made her inadvertently squeeze the root of my dick. "Oh! Wow, Bear."
Oddly enough, she did not sound specifically horny. It was as though she were watching a magic show and had been particularly delighted by my signature trick. I gave her another customary flex to show my appreciation of her appreciation.
"Jesus," she breathed out the word. "It's like... alive. Why is it so hard?"
I arched an eyebrow and momentarily popped her dribbling nipple from my mouth. "Seriously?"
"Never mind," she mewed softly.
Her curled fingers kneaded and massaged the bottom half of my cock-- as much as she could fit in one hand. "Is this too weird?"
"No!" I answered abruptly. "It feels good."
"Yeah?" she asked sheepishly. "It's just so hard. I'm kind of amazed at how big you are, Bear. You're lucky I gave you such a nice dick."
I chuckled, but could think of nothing else worth saying. Between the flow of milk into my gullet and her hand steadily squeezing my cock, there were too many neurons firing in my brain to focus on speech for a second longer.
Even when the moment had finally passed wherein Mom could have removed her hand and played the whole thing off as some sort of over-the-line bonding exercise, she did not pull away. In fact, it seemed that abandoning words gave us both the ability to reflect more intently on exactly what we were doing.
I closed my eyes, allowing myself to drift into the serenading sensation of my mother's milk squirting against my tongue while she casually tugged on my cock. I could tell she was intently focused on her stroking, seemingly interested in exploring the details of the dick she had birthed.
Mom fell into a noticeable rhythm, allowing her hand to travel a little further up the length with each passing second. What had begun as a subtle squeeze around the root had, within a few moments of silence, evolved into a slow, patient handjob. It felt as though I was not even in the room with her, my presence barely registering through the fog clouding her judgement. In a word, she was enthralled.
I thought that, if I did not interrupt her, she would allow herself to succumb to the urges that had already driven her to behave in ways that a mother never should... which was exactly what I wanted.
She cleared her throat, then asked in a sultry whisper, "Does that feel good?" She did not ask if it felt weird, as she had before. The focus had shifted from incidental exploration, centering instead on her desire to bring me pleasure. "Am I squeezing too hard?"
I shook my head. "Nuh-uh."
With her right hand - so as to keep her left secured around my cock - she combed her nails through my hair until she reached the back of my skull. She cradled my head from behind while I drank the last few drops of milk out of her engorged udder. I did not want to make assumptions about just how full she remained, but Mom was happy to confirm my suspicion that she was running empty.
"Do you want to switch sides, Bear?" she asked hopefully.
I wiped a dribble of milk off of my lower lip. "Is this side empty?"
She shrugged innocently. "That, but also--" she wiggled the fingers of her left hand around my cock. "--I'm right-handed, so this is a little awkward for me."
"That's why it's awkward, huh?" The statement sounded ludicrous with her stiff nipple still bumping against my tongue.
Her hand slithered out of my shorts. I feared that we had reached the end of our experimental bonding, but she had other ideas.
"Bear? Could you take your pants off this time?"
"Uh, okay."
"Good," she touted happily. "I was having fun. You don't want me to stop, do you?"
"No! No, of course not."
I sat up and threw my shorts down to my ankles in one fluid motion, then kicked them off the side of the bed. I climbed off of the mattress, my cock bobbing up and down as I stood up, and circled around to the spot where Mom had been sitting.
She scooted over to take my place on the left side of the bed so that I would have space to lie down beside her. She patted her right thigh, presenting the plump pillow for me to lay my head upon. "Come, honey. Get comfortable."
"Can I take my shirt off, too?"
She beamed warmly. "Of course you can. Mine is already off, isn't it?" She accented the obvious truth by shaking her drooping tits back and forth, throwing flecks of milk onto the bedsheets that quickly soaked into the fabric to produce tiny, dark polka dots.
It seemed fair for us to both be topless, but I refrained from the desire to overstep by asking her to remove her bottoms as well. Though it was something that would have satisfied me greatly, I was content for the moment to move at whatever pace she set.
I took off my top, rendering myself completely nude, and laid myself on top of my mother's right thigh. Her voluptuous bosom, hanging low enough to tickle the tip of my nose, swung back and forth over top of my face. Much like the left side, her right breast carried a tremendous amount of weight that was draped over my face when she leaned forward. The bulky udder smothered my face like a warm, cozy quilt, stifling me in such extraordinary heat that I feared I would melt down to a puddle.
"You okay down, there, honey?" she cooed from out of sight, as though she were the sun being blocked out by a saggy, doughy mountain.
"Y-yeah," I croaked. "Can you... you know?"
The devilish hum she emitted told me that she knew exactly what I meant, but wanted to drag the confession out of me. "Can I what, Bear? Ask nicely."
I gulped. "Can you touch my dick again?"
"Manners."
"Please, Mom, will you please touch my dick again?" It was very easy to make myself sound desperate.
Mom tittered playfully, relishing her position of power. "That's a good boy."
I flexed as hard as I could, making my cock rise off of my stomach and point directly at her face, beckoning her to wrap her little fingers around me again.
I could tell the difference in her touch instantly. Whether she had grown more comfortable touching me so provocatively or the use of her dominant hand giving her greater agility I was not sure, but when she touched me again, it felt far less awkward than it had originally.
my shaft secured in the grip of her fingers, she dragged her thumb across the sensitive bridge of skin underneath my cock head and gave me a miraculous tingle that made my dick twitch. My balls were pulled so tightly against my body that I imagined they looked like a fat, fleshy baseball at the base of my cock.
"My, my, Bear," she sung happily. "You feel like you're about to burst."
I grumbled, my bewildered facial expression obscured by the heaving udder against which my teeth grazed. "So do you, Mom. Maybe we should help each other out."
She laughed through her nose a couple of times. "I have just the thing."
Before I could ask what she meant, she had leaned over to reach into the bedside table on her left.
I craned my neck to try and see what she was digging around in search of, but could see very little around the bulk of her breast covering my face. I heard her pushing a few items out of the way, and after a couple of seconds she closed the drawer with a satisfied hum.
"Found it," she announced.
I heard her pop open a plastic cap, then some subtle crinkling that indicated she was squeezing a plastic bottle. Still ignorant to the mystery, I waited patiently until the cap was popped back on; she was happy to keep me in suspense that whole time.
"What is that?" I asked with a mixture of nerves and excitement.
Mom shushed me. "You'll see, honey. Can you start feeding again, please?"
The casual nature with which she has asked me to nurse from her did not match the erratic thumping of my heartbeat. From her tone alone, one may have thought that she was asking me to set the table for dinner.
"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, Mom."
"Thank you, Bear." She reached her left hand underneath her breast to find my head, then brushed her fingers through my hair reassuringly. "Big gulps, please. This one feels fuller than its sister."
I groaned at the mere mention of how full of milk she was, and relished being the man tasked with emptying it. It was something I had wanted my whole life, and it would have taken an earthquake of previously unfelt magnitudes to pull me out from underneath her floppy udder.
I opened my mouth, allowing my tongue to fall out, and closed my eyes to allow the dreamlike fantasy to envelop me. Guided by my tongue, I prodded around blindly in search of her nipple. When I found it, I latched on and sealed my lips around it.
I had taken as big of a bite as I could, unable to stifle the satisfied groan that forced its way out of me when I'd stuffed her nipple - and the majority of her fat, bumpy areola - into my mouth again.
Just as I had been taught, I sucked in my cheeks and used the suction to tug on Mom's nipple with enough force to coax out a thick stream. Sweet cream poured from her breast, pulled forth by the intense vacuum I had created around her pointed nipple. Once opened, the tap would not be closed so easily, and even when I would halt my suckling in order to swallow it, there were residual dribbles that still fell into my open mouth.
I savoured the fulfilling feeling of having my entire maw plugged, enamoured with the way that feasting on her would silence the voices in my head.
Mom moaned with her mouth closed. "That feels wonderful, Bear. Keep going just like that."
Even though I didn't require any more instruction, her encouragement would have inspired me to cross a field of broken glass just to worship at the altar of her bloated bosom. It hardly seemed fair to receive praise for doing something that made me so happy.
As she had attested, her right tit started off notably fuller than her left one. I could feel it every which way - both by weight and by flow. I tantalized her protruding nipple by dragging my teeth across it, grazing over the small bumps that had formed when it had hardened. Then I gingerly pinched it with my teeth, digging just hard enough to elicit a few noticeable squirms from my mother. I held it in place with my front teeth, urging her to sit still lest I scratch the sensitive surface.
Confident that her nipple would not be ripped out of my mouth, I rapidly flicked my tongue back and forth across the tip, from which beads of sweet milk still dripped freely even without the aid of suction.
Though my stomach was already giving me signs that I should take a break before swallowing another gallon, I ignored those warnings and gulped another mouthful of watery nectar down into my gut. I would have been content to nurse until my belly had doubled in size, and would have remained in the right headspace to do so, had Mom not wrapped her fingers around my cock once more.
That time, however, it was different-- and not in a "dominant hand" type of way. Rather, the fingers that she had coiled around my throbbing dong had been coated in a wet, slimy solution. Whatever it was, it made her mitt glide effortlessly from the base all the way to the inflated, red knob at the end.
Mom squeezed tightly a couple of times with my cock head resting in her palm. Her greasy fingers closed around it, constricting the bulging mushroom in their slippery embrace.
I broke the connection with her dribbling tit just long enough to whimper, "W-what is that?"
"My hand," she replied, then applied a long, even stroke to the entire length of my cock, root to tip, and added, "And a little something extra. Does it feel okay?"
I gave a muffled cry, unwilling to remove her nipple from my mouth a second time.
She twisted her hand in a corkscrew motion. By curving her wrist as she dropped it into my lap, each downward stroke felt as though she were meticulously swaddling my cock from every angle at once.
Even with a lifetime of experience at my disposal, Mom outshone every solo performance I had ever given myself. It was not just the lube that made it feel so special, but also the dedication she was showing towards handling my dick.
She tugged methodically on the rigid length of meat. She would tightly grip the base when she reached it, offering a single, firm squeeze before loosening the vice so that her fingers, when dragged back towards the head, nudged against me like slimy tentacles.
"How's that?" Mom asked without a hiccup in her pace.
"Uh huh," I warbled.
My infatuation made her giggle, but did not deter her from wanting to impress me further. "Well, what about this?"
Her final word was punctuated by a change of pace, wherein she reversed her routine. Instead of clenching her fist when she was at the bottom, she applied the same pressure around the head, then loosening on her way down.
Her greased-up hand made a cocoon for my cock head. The fat crown pulsated in its tiny hovel, bulging against each of the lubricated walls that had collapsed around it as though struggling to burst free.
Then, just as she released the pressure, she pushed downward and thrust my dick through the tight ring made by her conjoined fingers, mimicking the miraculous sensations of a tight, wet pussy.
Within a few laps, I had lost control over my body. My left leg trembled helplessly as the spasms in my muscles became too much to withstand. The overwhelming pleasure was so concentrated that I felt as though the Sun itself, and all its pent up energy, was exploding at the end of my cock.
The impact of Mom's talented touch was not lost on her. "Are you doing that on purpose? The leg thing?"
"Nuh uh," I offered hastily.
She scoffed in disbelief. "Am I making you do that?"
"Uh huh!"
"Wow," she whispered under her breath with an unmistakable hint of pride at what she had accomplished with a few small strokes.
Seemingly interested in upping her game, Mom studied my reactions. Whenever I would buck or shiver, she would retread whichever spot had made me do so, as though memorizing the exact button she had pressed so that she could return to it at a moment's notice.
She adopted long, unbroken strokes that traversed my entire cock with each swipe, repeatedly plunging my dick through the snug tunnel made by her clenched fist. Each dive saw her adhering to the corkscrew routine she had by that point mastered, leaving nary an inch of me unsullied by her lube-drenched fingers.
Mom's telltale shivers told me that she, too, had begun to treat the transaction as something far more sexual. While she may have been forgiven for expressing sincere interest in how my cock had grown since she'd seen it last - it was a surprising evolution, to be sure - there was only one explanation for the continual pumping of her little fist as I nursed from her: she wanted to make me cum.
I was so lost in the throes of ecstasy that I had stopped nursing, but the illusion that we were there exclusively to combat Mom's hyperlactation had long since vanished. She barely seemed to hear me speak when I said, "I-I don't know what we're doing, but you're gonna make me cum if you don't stop."
"Good boy," she touted confidently.
Her insistence had soothed me as much as it had excited me. "Really? Can I?"
"Of course, Bear. Why do you think I'm trying so darn hard? If it feels good--"
"It feels fucking amazing!" I interrupted.
She giggled, then continued. "--then you should cum."
"Just on my stomach?"
She did not respond right away, instead taking a deep breath while she thought it over. "I don't think so."
"W-what, then?"
"Just let me worry about that, okay? Are you close?"
"Uh huh!"
The triumphant moment - the one that I had been waiting my entire life for - was peeking over the horizon. If I was correct in my assumption - though, fueled by excessive horniness, it was hard to be sure - Mom was implying that she would soon be drinking my milk. All I needed to do was let go and allow my body to do what came naturally.
As I relaxed and gave my body permission to cum, the serenity in which I basked was disrupted by the bone-chilling shriek of a newly woken baby.
Mom clicked her tongue. "Oh, dear. Your sister is awake."
Cassie's familiar wailing through the nearby baby monitor brought both of us back to reality, suspending the lecherous trance into which we had both fallen.
"Mom, please. Please just make her wait. I'm so close!"
The following cry, much louder than the first, made it clear that patience was a virtue demanded from the adults in the house - and only from them.
Mom raked her nails through my hair, sending tingles down my spine that mirrored those emanating from my cock as she steadily tugged it. "I'm sorry, but I don't think she can wait."
"Me neither!" I cried with just as much petulant frustration as my sister. "Just two more minutes! I can't wait any longer!"
By the way she scoffed in response, I could tell that she was smirking down at me. "I bet you can, and if you can, I bet it'll be worth it."
My mind raced to fill in the blanks she had left behind. "What do you mean?"
Without revealing anything more, Mom slid her thigh out from under my head. "Will you wait here for me?"
I dropped my head onto the mattress with a sigh. "Fine, but I dunno what I'm supposed to do with this!" I gestured to my cock, which had not deflated one iota despite Cassie's mood-killing wails.
Mom shrugged and climbed off of the bed, as though she were not solely responsible for putting me in such a state of desperation. "He can wait, too."
I kicked the bed with my heels. "But Mooooom!"
She mimed the act of zipping her mouth shut. "No 'buts!' Listen to your mother."
She was right that Cassie needed to be looked after, and it had become clear that no amount of intoxicating sensuality would stop Mom's instincts from taking over. She leaned down to kiss my forehead, inadvertently swinging her pendulous breasts overhead in such a way that they both bumped against it when she bent over.
I pouted, but I knew it would not do any good. "Fine, but hurry!"
"Thank you, Bear," she said with a sexual purr, clearly intending to keep me horny in her absence. "Be back soon."
She threw on a loose robe that was hanging behind her closet door and wrapped it around her half-naked body. With one more look back at her son laying erect on the bed, she blew a kiss and vanished out of the room.
I listened intently to her footsteps getting quieter as she walked down the hall, wishing with every step that she would change her mind and turn around, though I knew it was a foolish notion.
I sat up and braced my back against the headboard, extending my legs on the mattress in front of me. It was the position that I had taken on many nights - hunched over my phone while preparing to masturbate with images of Mom's breasts swimming through my head - and that day was no different.
That fact on its own made it impossible to sit still, to say nothing of the massive erection that housed half of the blood in my body. I had to jerk off.
I did not want to rush things and accidentally spoil myself before Mom returned, so I took my time. I was frustrated to find that, no matter how I touched myself, I could not produce a modicum of the extraordinary pleasure that she had given me.
I closed my eyes and tried to take myself back to the magical moment when she had first laid her hand on me, succumbing to the desire to vividly envision her gigantic, swollen boobs looming over my head. The act had always come with an undercurrent of guilt, as I had known I should not be enjoying my mother's body so lecherously, but no longer.
Her clear enjoyment of having teased such rampant lust out of me - perhaps out of the two of us - gave me the confidence to ogle the image of her naked breasts in my mind's eye. They had been even more incredible than in my wildest fantasies, and, blessed yet temporarily cursed by the knowledge of what they looked and felt like, I was able to visualize them more clearly than I ever had before.
It could have been two, or five, or ten minutes before she returned. As far as I knew, time had ceased to exist while I waited patiently - or rather, quite eagerly - for her to grace me with her presence again.
A knock on the door made me snap my eyes open to see Mom, still wrapped in her robe, leaning against the frame. She was backlit by the sunlight coming through the hallway, and obscured in the shadow that existed in her bedroom thanks to the closed curtains.
"Hey, Bear," she cooed.
"H-hey, Mom," I stuttered nervously.
She gestured to my dick with her eyes. "Did you two miss me?"
I nodded hard enough to make my teeth clack together. It felt odd to be so comfortable clutching my erect cock in front of my mother, but I could not deny the peace that fell over me as she watched me slowly stroking myself.
"Did you miss us?" I asked with my eyebrow arched.
She did not answer me, but instead rested her head against the door frame as she fiddled with something in her hand. "Close your eyes, honey."
"Close my-- uh, sure."
I shut my lids tight and waited for something to happen. I was not sure what I was waiting for, but Mom gave me a hint by throwing whatever had been held in her hand onto the bed by my feet.
"No peeking," she demanded. "Promise?"
"Promise," I lied.
I assured myself that she would not see me peek under the cover of her darkened bedroom, and so bravely cracked one of my eyes open just enough to let in a sliver of light.
At the foot of the bed, staring back at me like a neon sign, was a pair of bright pink underwear that appeared to have been ripped straight out of a lingerie catalogue.
What the fuck? I thought to myself as my heart began to race. She took off her underwear!
Mom took a couple of tentative steps towards me. "Are you peeking?"
I shook my head, my cheeks loosely flapping against my gums. "No!"
She doused me with earnest praise and, by the sound of it, dropped her robe onto the floor in a crumpled heap. "Good boy."
"Should I lay down, or--"
"No, Bear. Just sit still."
I knew that, if I only opened my eyes, I would be blessed with the enchanting visual of my mother's naked body standing before me. It took every ounce of self-control not to soak that image in - helped along by a new fear that she might call the whole thing off if she caught me a second time.
I could tell by her voice that she was at the foot of the bed, and was further convinced when the mattress creaked and buckled under her weight as she climbed on.
Mom slowly made her way towards me, crawling on her hands and knees with my outstretched legs in between either of her limbs. "You know I love you, right, Bear?"
I swallowed, but my throat was sandpaper. "Yeah, Mom. I love you, too."
"How much?"
"More than anything in the world!"
"Me, too, honey, but that love is... confusing sometimes. I'm starting to wonder if the way I love you is normal for a mother and son. I think that sometimes I love you as much more than just my son. Does that make sense?
"It's just--" she said in a hurry, cutting me out of the conversation. "--sometimes I feel things for you that I used to feel when I was a much younger woman. They scare me, but they're real."
She continued to crawl further up my body as she spoke, her voice getting closer to me with each passing second. "You make me feel like a horny teenager. It's crazy, but you make me feel... I dunno. Sexy, I guess."
She leaned in so that her voice, and the beautiful mouth that produced such a hypnotic sound, were right next to my ear. She pressed her cheek against mine and whispered, "Does Mommy make you feel sexy, too?"
"Yesssssss," I breathed the word out along with the oxygen I had been holding in as I'd waited for my chance to reply.
Mom had crawled far enough that her legs were straddling mine, which I had kept closed to allow her to sit on me comfortably. She sat back and rested the weight of her plump ass cheeks on my thighs. "You can open your eyes now, honey."
Finally granted permission, I did not hesitate to gaze upon her in all her naked glory. With the memory of her underwear, or lack thereof, still fresh in my mind, I quickly tilted my head down with all the subtlety of a reversing forklift to take a look.
Nestled between Mom's legs, as I had envisioned on many nights in the past, was a mane of black, wiry fur that made all my previous fantasies seem frivolous. There was something about the lush forest of untamed hair that captivated me. Its woolly fibers absorbed most of the light that touched it, draping her pussy in such a thick, dark coat that it that made the manicured bushes I'd seen on women on the internet seem woefully sparse. The tangled vines stretched wildly in every direction, and I longed to walk my fingers through every inch of that overgrown thicket like I was navigating an abandoned, overgrown garden.
I gawked in dumbfounded shock. "Y-you're naked."
"I am," she announced. "And so are you, Bear."
"Mom, you're naked right now." The impact of her nudity needed a few extra seconds to register before I was capable of doing anything other than repeating myself.
"Are you okay with that, honey? I can put some clothes on, if you'd like."
"No! No, not that. This is just..."
"A lot?" Mom offered.
I nodded with a sly grin, tickled that those two words had come up with such regularity.
"I've seen the way you look at me," she said. "Tell me, do you think about me when you masturbate?"
"All the time." I was happy to incriminate myself for a good cause.
She chewed on her bottom lip, but could not disguise her interest in my answer. "What do you think about?"
Honesty had already gotten me so far that I knew I would not dare abandon it at that crucial moment. "Having sex."
She perked up with a cheerful smile and batted her eyelashes. "With meeeee?"
My shame was revealed in the red-hot flush that burned my cheeks. "Yeah, Mom. I think about having sex with you, like, every single day."