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A Quick Milk
🕑 Added 2020-08-31 23:44:34 +0000 UTC(contains hyper breath growth, multi-boob growth, lots and lots of milk)
Commission for Xilimyth
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It was when Kiritsugu swooped in to give the biggest, most passionate kiss of their lives that a buzzing noise cut through the atmosphere in rapid pulses. Go figure. The alarm always likes to cut in just when dreams get good.
Xilimyth’s hand whipped out from under the blankets, smashing all the buttons at once. That got her small electric clock to shut up, at least. Damn thing was fortunate, she was just having her Fate/Zero fantasies. If it had been the Macross one she might have hurled it out the window for such an interruption.
She withdrew the hand, using it to wipe the drool off her cheetah muzzle with a curse. Another rotten day of work with people so inept at computer programming, nepotism was the only reason they got hired. The minor ‘incident’ Xilimyth had a few weeks ago only made them more intolerable. Some people lacked shame to the point they can’t even try to hide their staring.
Oh, right! Xilimyth didn’t have work today. Most of the state was in an executive ordered lockdown thanks to being one of the worst hit by an infectious virus. It took literally martial law just to get people to stay inside except for necessary activities. Nothing was being done about their rent, of course, but she and her two roommates were pretty well off working from home.
She let out another curse, already too awake for a return to anime-filled sleep. A rush of pressure from her bladder also burned any hopes of remaining wrapped comfortably in warm covers.
One brief stop to the bathroom later and a very grumpy cheetah was dragging her feet into the kitchen. Spotted tail swept along the clean tiles, tickling at Xilimyth’s ankles while she rubbed the crust from her eyes. Catching sight of dirty pots on the stove caused her black feline nose to wrinkle. Her buff and voluptuous body felt too much like putty to scold roommates this early, but she made a mental note for later. Adorable as that blue squirrel can be, this cheetah was not his maid.
Trying to fix a good latte in the morning took all of Xilimyth’s effort already. Ill coordinated hands nearly dropped a ceramic mug transferring it to the coffee machine, and then almost grabbed a marker labeled carton of god-knows-what instead of milk. Fresh ripples of grumpiness vibrated through the cheetahs tail when what lactose remained fell a sliver short of the usual generous amount required for her refined tastes. Whoever’s turn it was for a grocery run might need a scolding, too. Nothing could be more rude than leaving no supplies for the next person.
Xilimyth took several careful, long slurps of her steaming fresh beverage. The kitchen became filled with happy purring noises as her spotted tail lifted off the floor in gentle wags. Just what the doctor ordered for placating grumpy aches and clearing the head. Still not the right level of creamy foam she liked. Probably best to put milk on the grocery list while it was on her mind.
“Hrrkk!?” Xilimyth could barely keep herself from spraying another gulp of hot liquid across their fridge. Eyes expanded to encompass most of her face, now fully awake and alarmed by some startling revelations.
When the trio comprising her, her sister, and a good friend moved into an apartment together several major systems were enacted to avoid grinding each other’s nerves. One of which had to do with groceries. Each month they alternate which of them made the run for a restocking, with the other two filling a list of what they wanted and paying their bill later. It just so happened that this month’s list proudly displayed Xilimyth’s name on its header, which she was supposed to have fulfilled yesterday.
The same day the office shut down, while also suffering three software crashes at once. She was so ready to commit murder the idea of getting people their food might have slipped.
“Fffffuck,” Xilimyth grumbled, chugging half her mug. A quick check of the fridges insides reassured her no one would starve anytime soon. There were still some eggs and veggies for those two dorks to cook with. Having no milk, however, would prove a problem given all three of them enjoyed recipes requiring it. “Oh, hello!?”
The cheetahs fridge checking brought her attention back to the label-less carton. It had the same feeling of milky contents when she turned it, revealing a marker scribble on the back face. Ears perks with a curious mew slowly processing the badly written words ‘Monster Cow Heavy Cream.’
One of Desmond’s personal projects he warned the feline sisters about. He always loved to craft some odd potion or device resulting in many transformations, or unorthodox outcomes. Brenna had discovered it first when trying to use the bathroom. Xilimyth found them in a bathtub full of whipping cream, with the male squirrel trying to fasten a bra around Brenna’s newly grown breasts bigger than his body.
“Hmmm…” Xilimyth looked down at her own enormous rack, weighing this recollection of events. Going outside after an exhausting layoff week during a pandemic did not sound very enticing. On the other hand, she was not looking forward to failing her obligations as a roommate, especially on policies she set. “Ugh, the things I do for others.”
With grumpy cat resolve, Xilimyth popped open the carton. Fresh white cream flowed into her mug, filling the latte to its brim. That seemed a fairly safe dose, not that she asked Desmond directly about this potions potency. It did improve the flavors exponentially as she chugged it all down to prevent reconsideration.
“URRP!”
Xilimyth let out an unexpected burp and blushed sheepishly, setting her empty mug in the dish bin. Normally she hand-washed her stuff for tomorrows reuse, but time was now a serious factor. She dived for the bottom cupboards to fish out two empty milk jugs, and then another pair just in case. One other quirky behavior for Desmond was his need to have big containers for water hording in the summer. Hopefully, everyone would have plenty to drink by the time they woke up.
“Nya-aah! Oh, goodness.” Xilimyth just found a funnel in the back shelves when a cold chill filled her chest. Her blush depended watching the beach ball sized boobs pull tight against her ribcage. The flesh firmed up under a mounting internal pressure that she knew could only milk glands activating into hyper production.
As suspected, that dang creamer imposed quick acting effects. Xilimyth yanked her shirt up over her mounds, trying to hurry before the valves broke all over the floor. She set the funnel into her first jug, feeling hard pops along the front of each breast. Their increasing lactose content pushed both areolas out into miniature bulges like suction cups. Nipples quivered subtly, feeling ready to pop with each passing second.
“Hang on, girls,” Xilimyth grunted, her blush growing darker. It had been hard to tell with her breasts already so huge that their new found milk production had swelled them even bigger. It made pulling down the pinching bra cups an insane chore. Christ, she could almost hear sloshing against her lungs like this, eventually getting the taut feline flesh to roll out over the garment enough for her to grab at them. There was already a noticeable amount of moisture damping the fur below each nipple. “Got it! Just need...to...ooo...ooohhhmmmhhh nyaaaah!”
Fingers alternated tugging on the engorged nipples, drawing on the pressure welled up behind them. Xilimyth’s ears folded embarrassingly annoyed when that got no immediate results. She could feel the pressure focusing into the narrow ducts, but refused any give. Attempts grew more forceful and frequent, almost bringing her into a rage until finally her tail gave a hard shudder and twin spurts of liquid shot out into the funnel.
A few more tugs got steady shots of thin streams pouring into the jug.
Minutes passed and the pressure only continued to mount despite filling at least three cups into the large plastic bottle.
Gradually the streams increased with their release, turning into thick jets of milk that blasted against the plastic cone with some spilling across the kitchen counter. By then Xilimyth had stopped caring. The constant rhythm she had set milking herself became easy to get lost in. Her tail continued to sway high to the song of happy mews while the crotch of her nighties grew damp.
It took twenty minutes of work until Xilimyth’s bloated tits finally stopped expelling more than faint droplets. Thank gods, all that constant squeezing had left them sore. There was still an odd sense of pride at filling a gallon jug with fresh milk, along with a need for fresh panties. She leaned on the counter, enjoying the scent of her own produce until her quivering body recovered enough to stand.
“Those dorks better enjoy this,” she mused while tugging her bra cups back over the twins. The mounds were still tight and full, making it hard to squish them in. “Nya! Damn it! I’m going to be tender all over today. Probably shouldn’t do this ever...again?”
Xilimyth quirked an eyebrow, watching the ample span of her cleavage ripple violently. Pressure returned only long enough for her to realize it before a hard rush yanked her forward to brace against the counter.
“What the fuck!?” Groans escaped both the cheetah and her bra straps digging painfully into her shoulders. Milk resumed filling up her breasts with such excess that the rounded flesh swelled like inflating water balloons. Cups snapped off the engorged nipples, letting small squirts of warm milk leak out across the thinned furry flesh. “No! No! Why the heck are you girls still going!?”
Their only answer became an increasing pressure on Xilimyth’s lungs. She fumbled in a panic to undo the bra strap, getting some whiplash across the back from it being stretched to the limit. Even set free the inflating globes did not drop very far. Milk glands only continued to work in overdrive, setting a near constant leak.
Having one’s cleavage rise dangerously close to the chin made it hard for Xilimyth to set up another jug. Before long, her breasts became so full she was dragging their bottoms across the counter with every motion. They left puddles of milk in a trail from fridge to sink.
“Come on! Come on!” Xilimyth bit her lip, having to strain an arm’s milking her nipples once more. The first blast nearly sent the light jug flying with pressure akin to a water hose. “Deep breaths, chee. It’s just a little mess.”
Some careful aiming got Xilimyth back into a milking rhythm, which did nothing to ease her nerves. No matter how fast she tried to empty, the feeling of tight pressure never left. She really wished the harsh lactose expulsions didn’t tease her nerves either. Knees pressed tight together to keep from quivering thanks to the jolts racing through her loins.
The jug filled up faster this time, with no sense of progress breast drainage wise. Xilimyth’s tail thrashed like a wild snake in her scramble to set up a third jug. Everything was getting out of control so fast she hadn’t noticed the pressure mounting in other areas until her hands reached under her boobs to lift them.
“Oh, you gotta be kidding!”
Xilimyth yowled in dismay as her hands bumped against some squishy lumps that had developed under her massive bust. It was impossible to see them, but she knew from touch alone that these were a second pair of breasts. Ones that were filling out rapidly as she held them. Why the ever loving hell was she growing two more?
No, wait, her hands traveled further to her belly, finding a third pair.
And then a fourth below those…
“I am going to murder you, Desmond. What was in this creamer?”
Forgetting the milk jugs, Xilimyth moved to the kitchen sink in an awkward panic shuffle. Her new eight breasts were all pumping with milk at an alarming rate, becoming a hindering weight even for her muscular figure. It was like watching two rows of melons going through various stages of ripening.
Ten seconds into milking again made it painfully obvious how futile the situation had become. No matter how much creamy fluid Xilimyth blasted into her sinks, it barely slowed her breasts growing. Meanwhile, the unattended ones kept swelling along, intent on catching up to her already overloaded top pair. A goal they reached soon enough, despite the cheetahs efforts.
“God damn it! Stop!” Xilimyth protested as the weight of eight medicine balls forced her thick butt onto the kitchen floor. She laid across the tiles heaving and still trying to squeeze what she could out of each massive mammary. A pool of milk collected in front of her, cleanliness taking a back seat to increasing worry for just how much her milk glands can hold.
“Good morning, Xili. What’s all the mewing abo-GAH!”
It was falling into this helplessly bloated state that Desmond chose that moment to enter the kitchen. The blue squirrel man barely got two steps in before his paws splashed onto the light layer of milk flooding the room. Their black sclera eyes darted from the liquid to Xilimyth and back several times. He couldn’t see Xilimyth’s torso at all past the wall of stacked mammaries bigger than truck tires and in a perpetual state of lactation.
“Desmond!” Xilimyth shouted in rage, which promptly turned to joy and fear faster than an anime girl. “Thank the stars you’re awake. Please help me, quick! I…”
“Drank my cow creamer?” Desmond finished with a dejected sigh. Seeing Xilimyth bite her lip in a curt nod, he added, “I warned you girls not to try that. You’re lucky you’re not growing horns and mooing.”
“Yeah! Yeah! Can you get me an antidote or something now?” Xilimyth tried to shift position, only to remain pinned by the weight of potential gallons of milk. “Ngggh! These things are too full.”
“Well, duh. That’s the whole point of my mixture. Then again, these results are udderly ridiculous even for me.”
Desmond was lucky Xilimyth was in an exhausted state of post-climaxing and prolonged milking. Not even the weight of a thousand boobs could have saved him from a head bopping otherwise. “J-just help me before I really get in a moo-d.”
“Heh. No worries. I got a few things to bring those milkshakes down. Be right back with the milking machine.”
“...milking machine?”
Desmond paused at the doorway to shoot a confused look. “What?”
“You just...have a milking machine in your room?” Xilimyth paused with a pained grunt, all eight of her breasts noticeably rounding out further before releasing a waterfall of milk. “That’s something you need regularly?”
“More often than you think, especially when Brenna shared with me her boob problems.” Desmond’s ears folded under the look Xilimyth gave him. “Hey. You’re the one that asked me to move in.”
***
Since Brenna worked night shifts the biggest, buffest cougar of the apartment didn’t wake until nearly noon. Even then she only emerged to use the bathroom before returning to solitude for a routine round of exercises. The joys of having to work an ‘essential’ job during a pandemic.
Only hunger kept her from going right back to bed. Instead, she slipped on a shirt that wrapped taut around her firm, broad biceps and generously plump breasts. With any luck, one of her roommates cooked leftovers from breakfast. They all had a habit of making excess meals.
“Prrf?” she mewed curiously, picking up the powerful scent of dairy before reaching the living room. Brenna stopped short, letting her eight foot height loom over the couch. “Guys? What are you...uh…”
Both her fellow tenants laid in a sprawling mess across the cushions. Xilimyth was buck naked with her head and breasts resting on Desmond’s lap. The cheetah’s eight mamarries remained ever bigger than the cougars, jiggling slightly when a hand moved to scratch the fluff of her flat stomach. Thankfully, the doppy squirrel still had his pants on, though no less visibly enjoying his company.
As she leaned in closer, Brenna’s tail curled noticing their damp fur and hair. The smell of milk was overpowering to her feline nose and drove her back. That was when she spotted the stacks of milk jugs. Coffee tables, the fireplace, the loveseat. Virtually anywhere they apparently could find space was used to hold gallons of the stuff.
“Ooookay.” Brenna’s eyebrows rose when she caught sight of Desmond’s milking machine in the center of the room. Eight of its twelve cups rested on the floor, spilling small bits of milk across the carpet. She wrinkled her whiskers, looking back to the sleeping Xilimyth suspiciously. They looked way too peacefully cute. “As much as I’d love to know what the prrf happened here, I’m just wondering if anyone bothered to buy more eggs.”
