Lactose Intolerance It all started about five months ago when I saw an advert that I hoped would change my life. Well, it did, but not quite in the way I'd expected... For virtually all of my twenty-six years I've been Lactose Intolerant. Basically that means I can't drink milk, or even have any in my coffee. No ice cream , no potato chips, no waffles or pancakes either - basically none of the nice stuff that a normal person can eat. The merest hint of milk and I would get stomach pains, nausea, the works! So I learnt to live with it, to avoid foods that set me off, that sort of thing. Of course, eating out was a nightmare as I had to ask about everything - it was so embarrassing so in the end I just gave up going out. Then one day I was reading the paper and came across a small advert: Lactose Intolerant? Help yourself and others find a cure by taking part in a new drug trial. Call (555)-343-7353. A potential cure? In a state of excitement I called the number and a man who introduced himself as Dr. Khan answered. I should have been more alert but I was too eager to find out about this potential cure - why would a Doctor answer his own calls, shouldn't he have a receptionist for that? Unfortunately, that thought did not occur to me until much, much later, when it was too late. Dr. Khan sounded nice enough and what he said seemed plausible and he said he'd come and visit the next day. Another point where the alarm bells should have been ringing - what Doctor does house calls for a drug trial? Yes, I missed that one too. Well, he turned up next day as promised and after a cursory examination said I'd be a perfect candidate. He gave me seven little blue pills (no not like THOSE ones!) with instructions to take one a day. He left his card and said to call him if anything strange happened. I was so keen to see the results that I took the first pill the very moment he'd left. After that I took the pills religiously for the remainder of the week and, thankfully, nothing bad seemed to happen. About the only affect I noticed was that my boobs seemed a little bigger, having gone from a B to a C cup over the course of the week, not that I minded the extra cup size, though I did need to buy a couple of new bras in the larger size. I called the Doc up and asked him what to do next. He suggested that I tried a little milk to see if there had been any change. Excitedly I practically ran to the corner store to pick up a bottle of milk. Containing myself, I managed to get home before I opened it and pour myself a glass. I'd drunk down a little over half of it when the all-too-familiar stomach cramps hit quickly followed by pangs of nausea - this was enough to tell me that the cure had apparently failed. As soon as I'd recovered, I phoned Dr. Khan to give him the bad news. He didn't seem too bothered and said that sometimes these things take a little longer to take effect. I was not to worry about it but try milk again in a week or so. I felt a bit better after hearing Dr. Khan's words of encouragement so went back to a normal routine. However, two days later my new C-cup bra was feeling very tight so I stopped by a store and picked out a bra that fitted better - a DD-cup! I thought that was the end of it because for three whole days this latest bra fit comfortably. All that changed when on the fourth morning I woke up to find two damp patches had formed on my pajama-top. Hurriedly I pulled open the shirt and examined my breasts. Both nipples were hard and a little wet. Experimentally I squeezed one and a little white liquid came out. Milk? How could I be lactating? Didn't you need to have had a baby first? Climbing out of bed I peeled off the damp garment and tossed it into the laundry, grabbed a robe and headed to the shower. As I let the warm water caress my body I gave my left nipple another exploratory squeeze. As before a few drops of liquid formed but this time, as I squeezed a little more, the drops became a steady flow! I was definitely lactating! The feeling was intense, almost orgasmic! As the milk flowed from my left breast, droplets formed on my right nipple in sympathy. Gradually the flow from my left breast slowed to a stop and I had to resist stimulating the right one which was not easy I can tell you! As I shut off the shower and the last of the water, mixed with my milk, flowed down the drain I contemplated my next move. Certainly I'd have to tell Dr. Khan in case this was in some way related to his pills but first I'd need to find some way to stop my milk from ruining all my tops! After a hurried breakfast and with that last point in mind I stuffed some tissues in to my bra to soak up any excess and drove to the nearby Mother & Baby store. I looked around for several minutes, trying to find something when an assistant came over to help. Explaining my situation (OK, not ALL of it - I pretended to have a new baby back home with "Dad") she guided me to the padded nursing bras - basically a normal bra with a clip ("To allow your baby easy access" she said not very cryptically) and a set of washable pads to soak up any excess. She looked me over with her expert eye and picked out a bra she said would fit me. I grabbed it, thanked her and raced to the register to pay, keen to get home before the tissues became saturated. It was only when I got home that I checked the size: F! I wasn't an F-cup was I? Still, I tried it on and it fit perfectly! And with the padding, it looked even bigger! I hoped it would end there but it didn't. I tried phoning Dr. Khan over the course of the rest of that day but the number just rang and rang without an answer. By early evening I'd been through two sets of absorbent pads and my boobs, particularly the right one, were feeling very full and heavy, almost painful. Instinctively I knew what to do. Leaning over the bathroom sink, I lifted my shirt and undid the "easy access" clip on my right boob. Then I gave the nipple a gentle squeeze until milk started to flow. I watched, mesmerized as the milk circled the drain then disappeared from view. How was this happening, and why? After my right breast was empty I decided to repeat the process on the left to keep them both "even". That night I had to sleep with the nursing bra on so as to keep from drenching another top but in the morning I awoke to find that the pads were saturated and my boobs were painfully full and overflowing the cups of the bra! As I took my morning shower I looked over my immense breasts, several cup sizes larger than I'd started out with and practically bursting with milk. I massaged one nipple and the milk started to flow freely. Then without warning milk spouted from the other nipple, curving through the air and hitting the opposite wall of the shower stall. The let-down reflex from both breasts simultaneously was far, far more stimulating than any man and I orgasmed on the spot! The milk flowed for several minutes as I rubbed both breasts feverishly, prompting milk to flow at a greater rate and inducing a second orgasm. At long last they were empty, still huge, but empty and I exited the shower. Determined to get to the bottom of this strange change that had come over me I wrapped a towel around my enormous bust and found my phone to call Dr. Khan: Sorry, that number is not in service. I tried again - same thing. Third time: Sorry that... I killed the connection. Now what? Here I was, a huge-titted freak who's boobs won't stop giving milk and my one chance of an explanation is "out of service". Then I remembered his card and it out of my purse. Yes, it had his address on it. I'll march up to his office and have it out with him in person. That's what I'll do, right after I find something to wear. That was the hard part. Having grown up with B-cup breasts, to be suddenly confronted with a pair of H-cups, that were threatening to become I-cups, finding a top to cover them was not easy! Forced to don my inadequate F-cup bra I eventually found a big baggy T-shirt I'd bought by mistake as it had the wrong size marked on it. What had been too large before now clung tightly to my immense bust line and defied every attempt to tuck it in to the waistband of my jeans so I abandoned the effort. I boarded my car and found I had to move the seat back a couple of notches to stop my boobs from hitting the steering wheel and the seatbelt had to thread itself between my breasts but after punching the address into the satnav, I was ready to go. The address in question was an office block with it’s own parking lot so I stopped the car in a "Visitor" space and entered. The receptionist's eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw a huge-breasted visitor walk in but she quickly regained her composure. I explained who I was there to see and showed her Dr. Khan's card. Imagine my shock when she said she'd never heard of him and he certainly did not have an office there! I must have gone white as a sheet as the receptionist gave me a glass of water. When I recovered I questioned her some more but it was clear that Dr. Khan (if that was his real name) had just faked his address on the card. I was about to leave when I realized my "girls" were feeling rather full again so I asked to use the restroom. The receptionist pointed the way and I gratefully entered and locked the door. I popped open my bra and began to express the milk from my breasts down the sink - I had to bite my lip to stop myself from crying out in pleasure. When I'd finished and cleaned up I looked myself in the mirror. Doing so, I could see why the receptionist had stared - on my slight frame my breasts looked enormous! I straightened my overtaxed shirt and quickly made my exit, thanking the receptionist on the way out. I still needed to contact Dr. Khan but more pressing matters were present like getting a replacement nursing bra to replace the F-cup that was rapidly becoming painful to wear. I made my way back to the Mother & Baby store and grabbed an H-cup bra, and, in case that was too small, an I and a J one too. I was about to pay for my latest purchases when I noticed an electric breast pump which I picked off the shelf too. Upon reaching home I peeled off my shirt and switched to my new H-cup bra. it was a snug fit and I knew it wasn't going to last for long. An hour or two later I felt engorged again and decided it was time to try out my other purchase - the pump. Unboxing it, it looked simple enough: Two suction cups, each with a container attached, connected to a control box containing the vacuum pump itself. I hooked it up as per the instructions and switched it on. The feeling was a bit different to when I self-expressed but not too bad. Within seconds milk started to flow in to the containers and I felt less full. I let the pump do its job for several minutes until my boobs felt empty then I shut it off again and dismantled the contraption. The two containers were both almost full - the markings on the side showing they'd taken about a quarter of a pint each. I felt a little sad as I poured the milk down the sink: shouldn't I be donating it to the local hospital or something, for babies whose mothers couldn't breastfeed them? I shook my head as it to get rid of the thought. I had no idea what the composition of my milk was - had it been affected by Dr. Khan's pills, was is safe to drink, plus there'd be too many questions. No, donating it was out of the question. It was clear that I needed to talk to Dr. Khan urgently. After trying his number a couple more times, just in case, I hit the Internet but all the searches I did just turned up Star Trek references. I even called the newspaper who carried the ad but they only had his, now disconnected, phone number. By late afternoon I had drawn a blank - I'd also had to pump myself twice more and moved up to the I-cup bra - it seemed that my growth rate and milk production was accelerating! On top of that, I was hungry, very hungry. I hauled myself in to the kitchen and set about making a spaghetti bolognaise. It was quite awkward at times as my inflated boobs kept getting in the way or knocked things over. I wasn't really concentrating as I cooked as I ended up making way too much food - probably enough for six people! As I sat down to eat I thought about my predicament and what to do next. As I mulled over the options I found myself going back for seconds, then for thirds and pretty soon the dish was empty. My stomach felt tight and full but finally I was satisfied. After eating I had to milk myself again - this time I had to empty the containers part-way through as I was producing so much milk. Finally, exhausted after the days events I climbed in to bed and sank into a deep, dreamless sleep. When I opened my eyes the next morning I screamed in shock. Overnight my breasts had ballooned from just simply "huge" to "unbelievably huge"! At some point in the night they had ripped open the I-cup bra I had been wearing as that lay draped uselessly over my right breast. I reached out to touch them, to check they were real and that I wasn't dreaming. They were. I wasn't. Each breast was about the size of a beach ball - about two foot long and not quite so much wide. What's more they ached so badly as they were so full of milk. Awkwardly I pulled myself in to a sitting position, noticing that my breasts now reached my knees in that position, before carefully standing up. Walking was decidedly difficult as so much of my mass was now concentrated in front of me so I had to hang on to the wall or furniture to keep my balance. Eventually I made my way to where I'd left the breast pump last night. The pumping session took almost thirty minutes and I had to empty the containers no less than four times. After milking I felt more comfortable - some of the weight had gone out of my boobs, but not much of the girth. so I decided to see what I could do to give them some much-needed support. Unsteadily I made my way back to the bedroom, winching slightly as I had squeeze my boobs through the door. Once in the room, I found a large sheet which I wrapped and knotted into position around my chest in order to hold it and cover it as best I could. It was then that hunger pains hit again and I remembered I hadn't had breakfast that morning. Carefully I made my way to the kitchen - going sideways through the doors helped - and started to make some food. Eggs, bacons, sausages, bread, anything I cold lay my hand on was thrown in to the frying pan or otherwise prepared. Ravenous, I started to eat straight out of the pan and before long had polished off a dozen eggs, eighteen sausages, countless strips of bacon and half a loaf of bread. Patting my now full stomach I eased my way to the lounge and collapsed on to the couch and looked down at my giant breasts. I felt like I could cry - my boobs were so huge and so heavy and none of my bras or tops fit me any more - I was reduced to wearing a sheet! I wrapped my arms around my bosom and buried my face in to my cleavage and sobbed. After a while I realized I could feel every one of my tears as they fell onto my breasts and ran down my skin. What's more I sensed that my arms, which were still cradling my boobs, were slowing being pushed outwards. I pulled myself together and wiped my tear-stained face and watched. Slowly, almost imperceptibly my boobs were growing again. I stared, hypnotized as the two mounds before me expanded. I could feel them starting to strain against my improvised bra so I loosed a knot or two. After about twenty minutes they'd regained the size they'd lost due to the earlier milking but they didn't stop there! They grew on for another ten minutes before slowing to a halt. They were immense! Well over two feet long, they overflowed my lap by several inches and I could feel them resting on the couch cushions! My breasts were also filling with milk again - not enough to need pumping but I knew it wouldn't be long. Sure enough the pressure built steadily until I could feel small droplets of milk forming on my nipples. It was milking time again. I connected the pump, turned it to full and let it do it's work. As the pump droned away I finally resolved to call up my own Doctor and see if he could help - I couldn't go on like this! After emptying the containers (for the fifth time) I picked up my phone and made a snap decision to try Dr. Khan one more time. I was overjoyed when I heard the other end ringing - a joy that was only slightly tempered when the call connected to his voicemail instead of a human being. I left a message, asking him to call me back as I thought I was having some reaction to his pills, and hung up. Happily I practically skipped back to the lounge (as much as someone with two-and-a-half foot wide boobs can skip) and settled back on the couch. To pass the time whilst I waited or Dr. Khan to call back, I flicked on the TV, found a channel running a marathon of my favorite show and settled back to watch. About two hours later my breasts felt full again and in need of milking so I hooked up the pump. Both containers rapidly filled as my milk flowed freely and soon were almost overflowing. I shut off the pump and disconnected the bottles. Normally I would have gone to the sink and poured the liquid away but the bathroom was some distance away (especially given my condition) and I was comfortable and engrossed in th show so I didn't want to get up. I looked at the containers in my hand and sniffed one, then dipped in a figure and had a taste. It tasted surprisingly good - sweet, creamy and warm. Without a further thought I drank both containers down it felt so good and tasted so nice, no wonder babies love it so. My boobs still ached as they'd only been partially drained so I reconnected the containers and resumed pumping. I repeated the process four more times before my boobs felt empty again by which point I felt quite full. Of course, I forgot what breast-milk helps babies do: grow. My body didn't wait long to remind me of that fact. As I watched the TV I could see my titanic chest rise and fall as I breathed. Rise. Fall. Rise. Fall. Rise. Rise. Rise... I snapped out of my TV-induced trance and focused on my boobs. Rise. Rise. Rise. With every breath they were getting larger. I tried holding my breath but it was no good - they grew on regardless. Then it hit me - every time I'd eaten or drunk something, my boobs started growing - and I'd just drunk several pints of my own milk! My boobs were over three feet across - and still getting bigger. My bedsheet-bra was now too small, but too tight to undo - I could feel it digging in to my boobs as they grew. Frantically, I tugged at a knot, trying to release it, to ease the pain. Suddenly something gave and the sheet fell to the ground. Free from their constraint, my breasts surged outwards a few more inches, their growth continuing unabated. I could feel resting on the couch as they overflowed my lap I could feel them rubbing along my legs as I grew ever larger. Then, as if a tap had been turned off, they stopped. I sat, stunned for several minutes and ran my hands across my boobs to check they'd stopped. I could no longer reach around my chest - in fact I could barely reach my nipples! That was enough - I could wait no longer for Dr. Khan - I needed some proper help, from a proper Doctor. I looked around for my phone but couldn't see it anywhere. Then I remembered I'd left it in the kitchen after calling Dr. Khan earlier that morning. The Kitchen. In my present condition it might as well be on the dark side of the moon! Still, I needed to try and get to it - no easy task give the size and weight of my boobs! With great difficulty I pushed and pulled myself to the edge of the couch but disaster struck as I lent forward to try and stand up: I was using my arms to try and support my massive bust line but one boob slipped free and the sudden weight-shift pitched me off the chair and I landed face-first on the floor. Or I would have been face-first if I wasn't lying on two fleshy cushions: my boobs. I tried to stand up again but couldn't, the weight of my chest was just too much. I was stuck. I writhed and struggled, trying to get some purchase, to find some way to lift the enormous mounds before me but it was useless. I did manage to drag them a couple of inches but the friction from the carpet threatened to give me carpet-burns and the pain was too much so I had to give up. I beat my chest in frustration before, drained and exhausted, I cried myself to sleep. I must have slept for some time because it was dark when I awoke. I tried to move, but was still pinned to the floor by my massive breasts. It was had to tell in the gloom but they looked a little bigger, probably because they hadn't been milked for a while, a fact backed up by the damp patches I could feel around my nipples where some milk had leaked. Then I heard it again. The noise that has woken me up. It was the sound of someone trying various keys in my front door! I froze in terror, barely breathing as the door swung open and I heard someone come in! Then my hear jumped as I heard a voice gently calling my name! It was Dr. Khan! I called back and he came in to the lounge and turned the light on. From my position on the floor, I couldn't see his face properly but I heard the sharp intake of breath he gave as he saw me. "I can see what you mean about a reaction." he said, coming closer. "I tried calling but got no answer so came round to see if I could help." He gave a whistle and in a minute two other men appeared in my front room, one of whom was pushing a wheelchair. They seemed nonplussed at my appearance as they helped me in to the chair. One of them help re-tie my improvised bra which gave me some support and, more importantly, covered me. I was then wheeled outside in to the darkness as Dr. Khan followed, turning off the lights and locking the door behind him. The four of us walked in silence to a nearby van which looked a little like an ambulance. One of the men opened a door and lowered a ramp whilst his colleague pushed my chair up inside where it was secured to the floor. Dr. Khan got in the front passenger seat and one man drove; the second man sat on a seat behind me. I tried to watch where we were going but it was dark and I could see no landmarks I recognized. Soon the van drew up to a massive warehouse and paused. Suddenly a door opened automatically and the vehicle entered and stopped, the door closing behind it. "Where are we?" I asked. "This doesn't look like the hospital!" "Who said I was taking you to the hospital?" Dr. Khan said with a sudden sneer. "Get her out lads." With that the van door was opened and my wheelchair was rolled down the ramp and in to the middle of the building. I could see the walls stretching out in front of me - for seemingly for miles. I also noticed that the ceiling was very high, and there were no columns anywhere to be seen. "What is this place?" I asked, awed by the size of it. "It's the second largest covered area free from any interior supports in the world - covers about nine football fields... and it's your new home." I just stared at him, open mouthed. "Home?" I managed to say. "Home. As in where you're going to live from now on." he replied with a sneer. "What do you mean, I don't understand. I have a home." "Not anymore. Even now my people are removing any trace of you from your former home. Shortly your car will be found at Devil's Leap, the well-know suicide spot, and a female's body will be found at the foot of the cliffs, poor girl. Her DNA will match that recovered from a hairbrush in your bathroom and that will be that - case closed - and POOF! you've ceased to exist. No one will look for you and no one will ever find you here." "But what about me? Why do you want me? What are you going to do next?" I asked, my voice rising in panic as I watched this madman take delight in telling me his plans. "Too many questions my dear. It's late and you're sleepy. You need some rest, tomorrow is going to be a big day for you! And I doo mean 'big'!" he added, and with that he produced a syringe, jabbed it into my arm and injected the contents. I tried to fight him off but my arms flailed weakly as the blackness suddenly overtook me and I passed out.. I had no ide how long I slept for - the building had no windows and clocks were visible. Before I even opened my eyes, I knew things weren't good. Firstly, I could feel my boobs resting on the hard concrete floor, the coldness causing goose-bumps all over my skin. The other sensation I could feel was a sucking on my nipples, not the gentle, natural suck of my breast-pump but a more intense, urgent, almost industrial feeling. I opened my eyes, to see my new surroundings. I was still in the warehouse, but alone. I had been removed from the wheelchair that had brought me there and was basically kneeling on the floor and was leaning over my massive boobs which stretched before me like two beanbag chairs. They had grown a little from the night before to be around four feet long each but their weight compresses them to only about three feet high. Over the horizon of my chest I could see two clear plastic hoses an inch or so in diameter stretching up in to the ceiling. As I watched I could see a white milky liquid being drawn up the tubes. My milk. Out of sight, and out of reach, I could feel two milking machines attached to my nipples. I was being milked like a cow! A third hose hung near my head, connected to a sort of mouth piece. I couldn't imagine what this last tube was for but I knew what the others were doing. I tried to reach round to pull them off but my boobs were just too large and I couldn't reach. Just them a voice boomed in the building and echoed around the vast empty space. "There's no use doing that." it said. "Even if you could reach, you could not remove them." It was Dr. Khan. "What are you doing to me?" I asked. "Isn't it obvious? We're milking you." "But why?" I persisted. "Haven't you worked it out yet? Then let me explain. Don't you think it's strange for grown humans to consume the milk from another species? Isn't it any wonder that so many people have dairy-based allergies? We aren't made to digest cows milk. We're made to digest breast milk. For years, people have been trying to come up with a solution to this problem, after all you can't have a farm full of women can you!" He laughed at the thought. "But now we have the answer. You. You are going to produce enough milk for a million people a day, maybe more, and we're going to sell it at the ultimate solution for those with dairy allergies. You are going to make me a millionaire! However, first, you've got a bit of growing to do. Feel free to use the feeding tube - you must be hungry by now." He was right, I was hungry, starving in fact - I took another look at the feeding tube and had taste of it's contents - it was my own milk they were feeding back to me! I spat it out and shock my head. "No!" I shouted. "I will not be part of your get rich quick scheme!" "Oh, but you are my dear." "I am not your 'dear'! I will not allow myself to become your cow either! And I will not eat this!" I screamed as I pushed the feeding tube away. "So be it." the voice said. "Starve yourself. There are plenty more girls like you I could use." it continued, and then there was an audible click as the PA system was apparently switched off. I sat there in the silence, alone. the only noise I could hear was the milking machine still sucking at my breasts. In the stillness, I thought things over. My situation seemed pretty hopeless. I was stuck in a building with a mad scientist and his goons. I was attached to the largest pair of breasts anyone had ever seen and couldn't walk even if I wanted to. On top of that, my captor seemed to have wrapped things up so well that everyone would believe I was dead and so wouldn't think to look for me. I was in an impossible situation so, accepting my fate, I took hold of the feeding tube and drank deeply, feeling my own rich, warm milk fill my stomach. Spurred on by the sudden inrush of nutrients, my breasts added a couple of inches of girth. That was five months ago. Since then things have, well, developed. The more I ate, the more I grew and the more I grew, the hungrier I felt and so began the endless circle. After a week my bloating boobs had pulled me to a standing position, after a fortnight, my feet left the ground for the last time. Since then I've felt me breasts expanding across the floor of the warehouse as five feet became ten and ten soon became twenty. Now (I'm informed) my boobs are hundreds of feet long and practically fill the warehouse, my nipples are the size of semi-trucks and I'm giving over two thousand gallons of milk an hour, four times Dr. Kahn's original estimate! They told me that for every gallon I drink, my boobs produce ten gallons of milk! Don't ask me how that works, I just know it does. I spend virtually all my time drinking and being milked, even when I'm asleep and have developed a little pot-belly from lack of exercise - not that you can see it due to my immense breasts, but I know it's there. They've given me an iPad so I can watch movies or read books but it has no Internet access so I can't communicate with anyone. In fact I'm using it to write this story of my life, in case anyone ever reads it. My old life is over. I can never go back. This is my life now, but please, if you take part in a medical trial, do be careful what you get yourself in to!