I first met Emma at the vets office. We were both brining our cats in
for a routine checkup. I arrived shortly after her and ended up in
line behind her at the sign in counter. Even from behind I was struck
immediately by her figure. She possessed flaring hips with a bubble
butt and a mass of thick red hair with voluminous curls.

She finished signing up and submitting her cat
for processing. I did the same with Captain and when
I turned around I was even more struck by the sight of her. She had
creamy skin and large hazel eyes which look out through green rimmed
glasses. Luscious lips, a well formed nose and high cheekbones fought
for my attention. All of them lost out to the huge swells of her breasts.
Later I would learn that they were G-cups, but at the time all I knew was
that they were huge, even for a woman who had reached maturity after the
change. Her flannel button down was open, exposing just the tiniest
hint of cleavage and there was a golden glint at her throat.

I realized that I had been staring at her too long, drifting closer as
I did so. I had to take the seat next to her if I did not want
to reverse course. I sat down in a bit of a rush. She bent down and
picked up a pen, "I think you dropped this."

As she had reached for it her bosom smoshed against her knees
and she had pointed the neck of her shirt in my direction, affording me
a flash of cleavage (and also revealing the small golden cross which had
been the source of the earlier glint). The sight had left me a little
flustered so it took me a little longer than it should have to smile
and say, "Thanks."

She smiled back, revealing perfect white teeth, "No problem. So, you here
for a cat?"

Relieved that she did not seem to have noticed my opportunistic ogling I
replied, "Yeah, just a routine checkup. Same deal?"

"Yeah. It's so nice to have this clinic in Hamsted now. I used to have
to go into the city to get Harper his checkups."

I nodded, "It was always pretty easy for me because I work in the city and
there is a place about three blocks away that will hold your pet for you.
I would just drop Captain in the morning and pick him up after work."
Mentioning your cat by name almost as soon as you meet someone is a great
way to be filed in the *crazy cat person* box, something which I studiously
try to avoid. Considering the location, and the fact that she had done
so first, I was not too worried.

"Oh that's super nice. I wish I had know that. I work in the city as well.
Did they charge anything for it?"

"Surprisingly no. I think it gives them more schedule flexibility. Either that
or the owners don't have a head for business."

We chatted pleasantly until a nurse came out and said, "Who belongs to Harper?"
Emma stood up (bending down to collect her bags and giving me an eyeful as she
did so). "Well, it was nice meeting you...?" she said realizing that we
had not exchanged names.

"Jack." I said with a smile.

"Hi Jack, I'm Emma." She said holding out her hand.

I took it and realized that I had to do something if I wanted this conversation
to be a repeat experience. "It was great talking to you." I paused looking for
a way to be smooth before deciding that eloquence was not my thing, "Can I have
your number?"

She looked a little surprised, but after a moment she said, "uuuuhh, yeah!
Sorry. Yeah that would be great." She fumbled for her purse, while I took out
my phone. I had gotten to the new contact page when she said, "I swear I have
some paper in here."

"Or you could just tell it to me." I said gesturing to my phone. She flushed
before reciting it. "Great! I'll text you my first and last." I said.

"Great." She said standing there for a moment before going to collect her
furry friend.

After the left I realized that I had not gotten her last name, which always
irritates me. It can be difficult to differentiate the 4 Johns in your phone.
To make up for it I added an annotation to her name in my contact list. It now
read: Emma -- smoking hot vet woman.



I called her up a few days later. It was a Thursday.

"Hello."

"Hey, it's Jack."

"Oh hi. What's up?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to do drinks or something tomorrow night."

"Uuumm." She made a *hold on while I check something* noise, then a moment
later, "Yeah. That sounds great. Do you have any place in mind?"

"How about The Broken Bucket?"

"Where is that?"

I smiled. Introducing people to The Broken Bucket is a hobby of mine. "It's on
Route 29, right before it turns into Old Town Avenue. You can get there
pretty easily from the Old Town metro stop. You'll love it." Everyone loves
The Broken Bucket.

There was a pause. "That works great. I'll see you then."



The Broken Bucket is a little hard to find, so I agreed to meet her right
outside the Old Town stop. I arrived a few minutes early, but she soon showed
up, walking up the stairs from the station and stepping out into the crisp
September air. She wore a fitted purple button down shirt, with the top three
buttons undone, and a couple inches of cleavage peaking out. Her gray slacks
hugged her ass and legs, though not as tightly as the jeans she had been
wearing when we met. The small golden cross dangled from a chain around her
neck and drew the eye to her already impressive bust. 

"Wow, you look great." I said as she came up to me.

"Aww, thanks!" She said reaching out to hug me. She had been a couple of
inches shorter than me the day before, but the heels she had on now made her
nearly as tall.  I wrapped my arms around her and felt her large breasts
flatten against my chest. Her embrace was firm and warm and over all too soon.

I lead the way to The Broken Bucket explaining the little bar to her as
we went. It had a lot of history, that little bar, and I was in the middle
of explaining how the secret room (now the wine cellar) in the basement
had been used for the underground rail road, when we arrived. To get to
The Broken Bottle you have to enter what looks like a large town house
(and is actually an insurance office) and then go down a steep flight
of stairs. It feels like entering a speak easy, and during probation
thats exactly what we would have been doing. 

"Hey Mary!" I called when we opened the door.

"Good to see you Jack!" called the bartender.

The pub was about half full, and I turned to Emma. "You hungry? The food here
is pretty good." She looked confused for a second. "I'm told." I added with a
smile.

"I am actually a little hungry." she said.

"Great!" I said, before walking over to the bar and fishing a menu out
from where they were kept next to the scotch-milk. The trick to the
maneuver was making sure that Mary was far enough away that she could
not swat me.

"You really seem to know this place." Said Emma when we sat down.

"Yeah, I guess I do. I really like the atmosphere, and I try to get out
here as much as possible."

We talked about The Broken Bucket some more until it was time to take our
orders. I ordered a glass of mint flavored milk and a glass of scotch-milk,
while she ordered a pulled pork sandwich and a micro brew beer. I noticed
that Emma looked a little uncomfortable as I placed my order, but soon
shrugged it off. We continued chatting until the food arrived.

"... so anyway the storm kicks up and everyone in the bar gets trapped by
all the snow. Its three days until the southern slave catchers head out,
and that whole time Harriot Tubman has to keep a family with three kids
under the age of eight quite as church mice."

Emma opened her mouth, "No way!"

"Is he telling the Harriot Tubman story again?" called Mary.

"You stay out of this! You've read the journal!" I called back.

Mary just shook her head. Emma narrowed her eyes at me. "Are you
having me on?" she asked.

I took a drink from my mint milk. "Cross my heart and hope to die."
As I pulled on my straw Emma's eyes lost some of their sparkle, and
I wondered what I had said.

There was a missed beat in the conversation before she said, "Cross
your heart, huh?" Arching her eyebrow.

"Absolutely. But enough about this old girl." I said patting the table
between us, "What do you do for work?"

She told me she was a financial lawyer (which was a little intimidating for
an IT grunt like me), and that she had been living in the area for the last
four years. Before that she had lived in Minnesota, though she went to
school in New York, for undergrad, and Boston, for law school. Throughout
the conversation I noticed that she grew uncomfortable whenever I took a
drink from my milk. Soon I started drinking only when she was looking away
from me, focused on her own food or gesturing somewhere. My efforts seemed
to grease the wheels of conversation.

Despite the constraints placed on me I managed to finish my mint milk at the
same time that she finished her food. She had completely cleaned the plate,
something which seldom happened when I took people to The Broken Bucket.
We were both leaning back nursing our drinks, and I must not have been being
as subtle as usual, because she caught me talking a gulp of my scotch-milk
and I saw her shudder a little bit.

"Hey Emma, can I ask you something?" I asked licking the milk from my lips.

She seemed fascinated by my mouth in a revolted sort of way and it took her
a moment to say, "uuuhh, yeah. Shoot."

"I've noticed that you get really uncomfortable any time I take a drink of
milk."

Color touched her cheeks and she said, "Yeah, sorry. It's, uuuhhh." She
seemed at a loss for words. "Let's see." She chewed her lip, "Have you
heard of The South Minnesota Baptist Council?"

I shook my head, "Can't say I have."

"Well, it's a church, my church. Or was my church. I don't really know
anymore." She spoke in garbled phrases.

I looked at her, "Okay."

She took a drink of beer. "Anyway, the SMBC believes that the change was
God's will, and that it is an abomination to defy it." She said it all in
a rush, and her creamy skin turned ruddy. After a moment she continued,
"So when I see you drinking, aahm, artificial milk, it bothers me. I
know that you don't believe in the teachings of the SMBC. I'm not even
sure I do anymore, and I have no right to judge, but I just can't help
how I react. It was how I was raised."

I think she was expecting me to get up and leave right there. I could imagine
other guys doing just that, but I tried to be pretty open minded, and to
be completely honest the implications of her statement were turning me on.
I had heard about some of these religious groups that believed that the change
was God's will, and I was pretty sure that they felt that fresh milk was
the only acceptable thing for a man to consume. With her huge breasts only
feet away my pants started to get tight. "I see. That certainly puts some
stuff into context," I said.

She let out a quite breath of relief and said, "Yeah, I bet it does. I'm sorry
for ruining this date with my shit. You take me to this lovely pub, which
obviously means a lot to you, and I just judge you for doing what every
modern man has to."

"Emma, it's okay. Really. You are super cool, and I've had a really good time.
It seems like your reaction is more of a knee jerk thing than any actual
condemnation. It's fine." I looked her in the eyes, "Really."

She nodded. "I try to take a live and let live attitude, you know don't stick
your nose where it doesn't belong, but I want to be honest with you.
It still really bothers me when I see men drinking processed milk, and women
selling their milk. Intellectually I've really let a lot of the teachings
of the SMBC go. I even tried selling my milk a year or so ago, civic duty
and all that, but when I showed up to the depot I just could not do it.
I promise I won't make a big deal about it, but I want to be honest about
myself, even if it does ruin my chances with a cute guy."

Of course my main take away from that was that she thought I was cute,
"Alright. I'll try to be discrete then. Do you mind my asking why you
moved away from Minnesota?"

"I had a pretty rough breakup. I was engaged to the pastor in my town, he turned
out to be a real asshole. I went to Harvard Law for Christ sake. I 
moved back to Minnesota to be with him, hurting my career, and he was always
belittling me. Calling me toots, implying that I should stop working and let
him be the man. I probably would have been fine with that shit before I went to
college, but I guess I'm a different woman now. Anyway, the end result is that
nobody from the church will speak with me, and that means everyone from my old
life is just cut off."

The flush that had started off from embarrassment was compounded by Emma's
anger. The story put a lot of things together for me. I had wondered why
a woman like Emma: smart, successful, and almost unreasonably attractive
act so unsure of herself. Total social displacement could make anyone awkward,
and it seemed like she had not had anyone close to her for the last
couple of years. It was obvious she was not over what had happened to her.

I reached out and took her hand. "I'm really sorry. Thank you for trusting me
enough to open up."

She squeezed my hand and smiled weakly at me. "Jesus Jack. I'm sorry. This is
not the sort of light bullshit you are supposed to trade on a first date."

In reply I just squeezed back. We looked each other in the eyes for a moment,
and then Emma took her hand back and gathered up her purse. "Thanks for showing
me this place, and thanks for listening." Then after a moment, "Do we settle
the bill at the bar?"

I stood up, "Yeah. I know it's soon, but do you want to do something this
Saturday?"

She gave a kilowatt smile then, and said "Yeah. There is this apple orchard I
know that has really good cider donuts, and they let you pick your own apples."

I told her that sounded lovely.

We settled our business with Mary and headed out of the pub. On the stairs
leading up, Emma turned to me and pressed my body against the wall. She
leaned in and pressed her pillowy lips against mine. Her lips were soft
and tasted the slightest bit salty, and her tongue, when it found
mine, was hot. Our mouths moved against each other's slowly. She pressed
her body against mine, the swell of her breasts pushing firmly against my
chest. When she pulled back I could feel my dick pressing against my pant leg.
Dimples were showing faintly on her cheeks, and her lips were pulled taught
as if she were considering beaming at me. Then she turned and flounced
up the stairs with a little wriggle in her butt. We rode the
metro to the edge of the city together (our cars, it turned out were at the
same lot-at-the-end-of-the-tracks). In the parking lot I kissed her again,
with her back pressed against the door of her car and a chilly breeze 
blowing her red hair around us in a cloud.



I showed up at the orchard at 10:30 am the following morning. Before I left I
had drunk a huge breakfast, not knowing exactly how long I would be spending
with Emma, and not wanting to eat in front of her. She was already there when
I arrived, leaning against the hood of her car in tight blue jeans, aviator
sunglasses and a flannel shirt. It was a cold day, so I wondered how she
would handle the cold with so little on. I guess it was nothing compared
with a Minnesota winter. Her long hair was tied up in a tight braid and the
whole effect was to make her look a bit like the sexy, tough cop on a crime
serial. She did not seem to have made much of an effort to fasten her buttons
to high and I could see the tops of her breasts peaking out.
Gooseflesh showed on her pale skin where it was exposed to the autumn air.

I parked, then walked over to her "Hey! Don't you look like a badass."

She glanced over at me and flipped her sunglasses up onto her forehead.
"Are you Mr. Fellington? Do you mind if I ask what you were doing
last night?" She asked in a serious voice.

"I was on a date with this beautiful woman I met at the vet's
office! She can tell you where I was."

She cocked an eyebrow at me, "Ok, your alibi checks out." Then she laughed.
"c'mon lets buy our bag for apples." Her stomach growled.

"Hungry?" I asked.

She nodded. "I never show up to these places with a full stomach. I love
apples."

We bought one pint bag, and one quart bag before wandering off into the
orchard. As we walked we plucked apples from the trees, working at roughly
comparable rates. Emma obviously had more experience than me, and the fruit
would just pop off in her hand, but she gave me an edge by constantly
munching on an apple. Although now that I think about it munching is probably
the wrong word for it. Munching implies a sort of sedate, unhurried consumption
of food, but Emma would destroy an apple with a series of rapid bites. She did
not rip off huge chunks, but she would get a mouthful on each bite, chew it
about three times, and swallow the result with a gulp. It took her about 45
seconds to go from holding a freshly polished apple to tossing away the core.

The bags of apples also got some love, and we steadily filled them, though
after I had filled the pint bag I just wandered along, preferring to watch
Emma enjoying herself. "Is that uncomfortable?" I asked as she threw away
a core.

"What?" she asked, lazily reaching out and plucking another apple free.

"Swallowing such big chunks of apple? Aren't they hard on your throat?" I
remembered enough from my days of solid food before puberty that I felt I
was on a reasonable footing.

She did not seem embarrassed by the question. To the contrary, she seemed
glad that I had asked. "I have a powerful throat." She rubbed the apple on
her shirt to get rid of the outer layer of pesticides. "Watch." She took
a huge bite out of the apple, so large that I don't know how she fit it
entirely in her mouth. Then, without chewing, she swallowed. I watched
the chunk of hard fruit travel as a lump down her throat. As it did so
I could hear the noise of it getting crushed. By the time the lump of food
moved out of sight beneath her chest it had been forced much thiner and
longer.

"Damn. You're like a snake." I said.

Emma grinned, "Yeah. Wanna see it again?"

I nodded and she took another huge bite. I watched this chunk of apple get
mercilessly crushed like the last one. It was fascinating, and a little
unsettling.

After she finished she licked the juice from her lip and said, "Apples are
easy. When I was 16, at thanksgiving, I swallowed a turkey bone.
It wasn't one of those little ones you can hardly see either. It was almost
as big as my pinkie." She held it up for emphasis. "I must have been trying
to impress someone, taking big bites, but I can't remember who. Anyway It
gets stuck in my throat and I sort of squeak out that I have a bone in
my throat. My uncle dove for a glove from under the kitchen sink and was
all ready to reach all the way down there. Before he could get to me I clenched
my throat and the bone snapped. At first I was worried that I had cut myself
with the shards, but I ended up being fine. I just felt itchy for a few days
afterward."

"No way. I don't believe you." I said suspiciously.

"I swear its true. I do it all the time now. Every thanksgiving. I'm the bone
girl." She was quite for a moment, "or was."

There was a pause, "I'm sorry." I said.

She shook her head, "Not your fault. Shouldn't have brought it up." I watched
myself in the reflection of her sunglasses for a moment before she said, "You
still don't believe me do you?"

Glad for the change of subject I said, "Apples are one thing, but grinding a
bone to dust with just your throat is a whole other thing. It would be like..."
I looked around before coming up with a stick as thick as my thumb and as long
as my ring finger, "It would be like eating this."

She looked at it for a second before grabbing it from me and popping it into
her mouth sideways. The stick made dents in both her cheeks and I had now
idea how she planned on fitting it down her throat. I got my answer when she
gulped and a few seconds later I saw twin bulges on either side of her throat.
If she was uncomfortable, she gave no sign of it.

She pushed her sunglasses up onto her forehead, looking me in the eyes, "You
notice how it went in sideways?"

"You can talk with that in?" I said incredulously.

"Oh yeah. I figured out how when I was 18. Did a whole bit with it in high
school."

"This is so surreal."

She looked at me, winked, and a ripple of muscular action traveled down
her throat. When it got to the stick I heard a snap. Her throat undulated
for a few more moments and then she grinned. "I need to wash that down."
She forced the rest of the apple into her mouth and swallowed it in one
gulp.

I goggled, "That was... That was... Holy shit!"
It was unexpected to watch a woman crush things with her
throat on a second date. The whole display had been unexpected.
Unexpectedly interesting, unexpectedly disquieting, and unexpectedly
arousing. 

She dropped her sun glasses back into place, "Satisfied?" she said.

"Yeah. I wouldn't be surprised to see you do a bone, or steel."

She laughed, "Even I have a little trouble with steel. Only a little
mind you."

We spent a long time in the orchard, talking and picking apples (though
after a while the only apples we picked were the ones that Emma was eating).
We started thinking about heading out at about 1:30. Emma had probably eaten a
quart of apples (and one stick). As we walked she tried to get one last apple
to fit in her bag. It was overflowing with fruit and the apple kept tumbling 
out after she placed it, precariously, in one position or another.

"You'll never get that to work." I said.

She glanced at me. "I bet you $20 that I can get it out with us."

I chuckled, not paying too much attention to her wording, "Ok. Deal."

She balanced the apple carefully on top of her bag. In order to prevent
it from falling she had to stop walking first. Then she reached up and
popped open another two buttons at the top of her shirt. She was now
exposing about six inches of firm, creamy cleavage. I realized what
she was about to do, but I could only stare. Slowly, she reached down
and picked up the precariously balanced apple, raising it to her
breast. In one efficient, even practiced, motion she pushed the fruit
between her mammaryies. 

"That's cheating!" I said.

"I think you will find that the bet concerned getting the apple out of
the orchard, no how I do so." She said. I noticed that she made no
move to button herself back up and her expanded neckline was distracting.

"That's not. That's not within the spirit of the bet!" I protested.

"Tough. I use all my assets." She said cupping her large right breast when
she said the word 'assets'. The apple had displaced some of the volume normally
occupied with breast flesh, so I could she the outlines of her bra as the flesh
spilled over its lip. After a moment she said, "I see you are disarmed by my
argument." I suspect she knew it was more than her argument that had me on
the back foot.

I kept darting glances at her bosom as we walked out of the orchard, thinking
about how big breasts had to be in order to completely conceal an apple from
the outside world. It had not been a particularly small apple either. When
we got to the parking lot I handed her a 20. She thanked my, grinning wickedly,
and slid it between her bra and her left breast.

"Is there anything else to do here?" I asked.

"We could go through the shop, or the pumpkin patch," She gnawed her lip,
"or we could take this back to my place. I can officially introduce you to
Harper."

I was starting to get a little hungry, and getting milk was a concern. I
knew that Emma would not have a supply just lying around in her fridge, so
I did not want to stay too long. Still, Emma was worth going a little hungry
for. I could always binge once I got home, "That sound great."

Emma told me her address in case I lost her, and then headed out so that I
could follow her. We arrived at her condo twenty minutes later and she told
me to put the apples on the kitchen counter. "So this is it. It's small, but
it works well for me." She said.

I looked around. It was a cozy little house, modest for what she must be making
as a corporate lawyer, but with evidence of an intermittent expensive taste.
I guessed that she was the kind of person who would spend money only if
something interesting her. Most of the decor looked like it had been picked
out of a catalog. She was not passionate about interior design. The kitchen
was a different story. It did not look like it had been imagined as one
room, but rather that she had started off with a functional room, and slowly
added improvements. She liked cooking, or at least food.

She saw me looking around, "C'mon I'll give you a tour." She showed me around
the small house, pointing out the door to the basement, the bathroom, and
two upstairs rooms, one of which she had turned into a yoga studio, the other
a home office.

Finally we ended up in the bedroom, "And this is the bedroom." I said.

"mmmm. It is." There was something almost predatory in her voice, and I turned
to look at her.

"I haven't even met Harper yet." I said.

She tilted her head back and tugged at her braid. Pouting she continued to walk
towards me, "Do you care?" She asked fluffing out the hair she had just
released.

"Not really." I said, putting my hands on either side of her head, and pulling
her in for a kiss. She kissed me back just as hard, wrapping her arms
around the trunk of my body, and pushed me back onto the bed. After kissing me
thoroughly for a couple of minutes she sat back and began to unbutton her
shirt. I watched her large breasts encased in a dark green industrial looking
bra come into view. Her belly and ribs had only a thin layer of fat, much less
than I had been expecting to see on a woman with such a prodigious bust. She
seemed to know the interest her breasts held for me and she did a little
shimmy as she shrugged off her shirt, throwing her bust into
a little quake. She reached behind herself and unhooked the bra. As she shrugged
out of the straps something tumbled out from between her breasts and Emma
reached forward to snatch the apple out of the air. She tossed it up in the
air, then tilted her head back and caught it with her teeth. There was a
crunching noise and the apple disappeared, only to reappear as a lump
traveling down her throat. It seemed a strange thing for her to include in
her seduction, but for whatever reason it seemed to work. Watching the apple
go down her throat made the blood rush to my engorged penis. Tilting her
head back down she licked the juice from her big red lips and looked me
strait in the eyes. I almost gulped, but then she grinned and the spell
was broken.

We stayed in bed for a long time. At first we were aggressive, all tongue and
teeth and popping buttons (with a brief pause for the donning of a condom). She
pressed her hands into my chest as she moved atop me, rolling her hips and
savagely rubbing her clit against my pubic bone. Her arms forced her huge
breasts together, but the pressure was not enough to prevent them from
bouncing up and down.

Emma is pretty sensitive, and she soon started moaning and shuddering.
She took her hands off my chest so that she could play with her nipples
and her hips bucked spasmodically against mine. After a while she seemed
to come back to herself a bit and she grabbed my hands with hers in order
to get better leverage for her thrusting hips. The cycle of shuddering
orgasm and savage thrusting continued for I don't know how long.
She was doing most of the work, but I was starting to feel the strain of
thrusting up at her from below when I finally came inside her.

"Oh god. Wow." I said after my hips were finished twitching. We were both
covered in a sheen of sweat, and I watched her huge bosom heave with
every breath.

She smiled down at me through a veil of thick red hair. "Yeah. That's
what I was thinking." she panted. She collapsed down on top of me
and I felt the heat and weight of her. My dick was still inside her
and it slowly softened as we lay there. Birth control was less of an
issue after the change, but I still wanted to use the condom right,
so I pulled out and disposed of it. Emma made a small dissatisfied
noise, and began a line of kisses that started on my shoulder and ended
with her nibbling my ear.  I gave a startled little yelp when she
nibbled my ear and flipped her over easily. I was glad of the extra
muscle and increased strength that the change had brought for men. Emma is
a lot of things, but she is not light.

I kissed and fondled for a few minutes, and then I started playing with
her nipples with my tongue. I was surprised by the way she reacted to my
stimulations. In my experience the larger the breast, the less sensitive,
but that rule seemed to have been broken by Emma, because she was soon
squirming and making little noises of pleasure. After a while I started
to feel like it would be unfair to get her all worked up without finishing
her off, so I kissed my way down to her snatch and began to attack her
sizable clit with my tongue. After a few minutes of fevered licking she
shuddered and bucked underneath me. I sat back on my haunches.

After a moment or two she sat up, "That was," a pant. "That was, wow."
Then she leaned forward and kissed me, "Thank you."

All in a burst she grabbed my thighs, pulled my hips towards hers, and
shoved her breasts into me, forcing me onto my back. Then she slowly
kissed down my chest until she reached my cock. Soon I felt wet lips
and a hot tongue on my second head, and I lay back in the blankets with
a sigh. Her ministrations were excellent and I soon felt myself stiffen.
Soon her head was bobbing up and down as she took in my erect pole. I
was surprised when she moved forward in one big gulp and took in my
dick all the way. The change had given all men a boost in the dick
department, and I had benefited more than most with a 9" length and
an 8" girth. Emma took it easily though. She stopped bobbing or moving
at all, and I wondered why until I felt something rippling around
the top two thirds of my dick. I wondered what it was, and then I
remembered the apples. I felt a jolt of fear go through me as I
imagined her powerful throat muscles contracting with the force
that I knew they possessed. Soon my concerns seemed trivial as the
rippling stimulations had an impact. She held me at the edge of
orgasm for ten minutes or so before the muscular action around my dick
sped up.

"I'm about to blow." I said, trying to be a polite lover.

Instead of backing off my member she pressed herself in tighter and
the rippling sped up. I burst deep in her throat and my spunk was
almost immediately whisked away from the tip of my dick. After
a few seconds of milking my softening penis for any more spunk she
sat back.

"That was incredible." I said. "You're incredible."

She licked her lips and pushed her hair out of her face.
I noted that her nipples were rock hard. "Thanks." she said.
Then she stretched luxuriously and walked over to the adjourning
bathroom.

Half an hour later we were showered and dressed (me in the clothes
I had come in, her in a bathrobe). It was nearly 3:00, and seeing
the time made me aware of my hunger. My stomach growled.

"Oh, you must be so hungry. I feel bad I had all those apples in
front of you and you did not have anything." Emma said, looking at me
apologetically.

"It's fine" I said, "really, I'll just have something when I get home."

"It's kind of a drive, though. I shouldn't have kept you so long." She
said.

"Don't worry. I enjoyed myself. I think we both kind of lost track of
time."

She smiled at me. "Yeah. I guess so." After a moment she chewed her lip
and said, "You know, you could have something here."

"You have milk in the fridge?" I asked. It seemed odd given that she was
a single woman, and one with her particular hang ups to boot.

"Well," she said running her hands gently over her breasts, "not exactly."

I was hungry, and my mouth began to water as I looked at her standing
there with her bathrobe open to expose the tops of her breasts. Her
nipples dented the thick fabric. I did not see anything wrong with
the idea.

"Well, ok." I said.

I stood there, wondering what to do, but she took my hand and led me to
the couch in her living room. She gently pushed me in the center of it,
then straddled me. Her elegant fingers gently opened her bathrobe and exposed
her breasts. They did not stop there, but continued down her flanks until the
robe was flipped behind her. She guided my head to her nipple and I began to
suck. A moment later I was rewarded by the best milk I had ever tasted
It came in a trickle, and I was soon sucking harder than might have been polite
in an effort to get more. I was quite hungry.

Apparently Emma did not mind my tugging because she made soft cooing sounds
as I sucked away. She wrapped her arms around my head, then slowly slid them
down to my belt. She undid my buckle and zipper so smoothly that I only noticed
she had done so when I felt her hand tugging my cock through the opening
at the front of my underwear. In another state of mind I probably would have
thought better of unprotected sex (even if the change did allow women to decide
when to ovulate), but with Emma's nipple in my mouth and hand around my cock
I was to hungry and horny to protest. Ever so gently she eased my dick into
her snatch and settled her hips comfortably atop mine. To my surprise she did
no move her hips at all, instead she just sat there letting me suck the
milk from her big breasts. 

I thought she was just going to hold my dick inside her as I fed, but after
about a minute I felt her pussy moving around my dick. It moved softly at
first, but it was soon moving with the same power and skill that her
throat possessed. Her scent was all around me and her bosom pressed against
my face. I concentrated on baseball scores.

"Yeah, Jack. Drink me in." She purred atop me. I just continued to suck.
"Doesn't it feel nice to take your milk right from the breast of a real
woman. Taste my warm sweet milk." Her hips started moving in a slow
circle, though her rippling snatch did not let up for a bit. "I know you
want to, but try not to cum until you finish drinking." She said, though
she did not provide me any help in resisting orgasm.

After ten or so minutes her right breast dried up and she transfered me to
her left. The whole time she spoke to me softly, pointing out how delicious
and nourishing her milk. "Doesn't this feel natural?" she would ask me
tenderly. Then she would gasp for a couple of breaths and tell me not to cum
until I was done. Eventually, her left breast dried up as well and she said,
"Ok baby, cum for me. Squirt all up inside of me." As she spoke her pussy
redoubled its efforts and she leaned back, giving me a view of both her
breasts and her face. It was all to much for me, and I did exactly what she
asked me to. I twitched so hard that I lost track of things for a little bit.
When I became capable of processing things I saw Emma still sitting on top of
me. I could feel powerful contractions of her pussy moving from the base to the
tip of my cock, as if it was milking me for semen. She cupped a breast in each
hand. Even with her fingers spread, her hands looked small. "Sorry if that was
not enough for you. My volume is not what it used to be." She said.

"That's ok." In truth I was still a little hungry. I had skipped lunch after
all, and despite their size Emma's breasts did not seem to produce much milk.
Still trying to recover from the experience. Even without the sex it would
have been the best meal I had enjoyed for a long time based only on the quality
of milk.

"Are you sure that was enough for you?" She said. I noticed that she had
made no move to get off of me, and she was still using her nethers to massage
mine. "I may not produce much milk, but I recover pretty fast. If you stay
around for a little while longer I can give you some more." As she spoke
powerful muscles milked my cock. It seemed to be effortless for her, I hardly
noticed diaphragm moving, and there was no impact on her breathing or speech.

"Actually, that would be kind of nice." I said.

"Ok." She said. "I'll make the next batch apple flavored."

I was confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Oh, I was just going to make my milk apple flavored. Do you not like apple?"

I was mystified. "Don't they have to add flavor in after?"

Now it was her turn to look confused. "You've never been with a woman who
can flavor her milk? It's a pretty basic skill."

"I did not even know that was possible."

She looked at me helplessly for a moment. "Do know about the feminine arts?"
She asked tentatively.

I thought I did. "Like baking and shit. Isn't that kind of sexist?"

She shook her head in exasperation. "They are called the feminine arts because
only women can learn them. Through meditation and concentration a woman can
take control of her body." The last line sounded like a recitation.

"I can't say I've ever heard of that."

Emma looked at me, "Well, I suppose you will soon find out about them."

I was growing hard again, and it was distracting me. "So you can flavor your
milk. What else can you do?"

"Well I can control my production rate. I can control my nozzles."

"You nozzles? You mean your nipples?"

"Yeah. I can also draw the alcohol from my blood stream into my milk.
I only get drunk if I want to, and I can sober up real quick."

"That's pretty impressive. You'll have to show me sometime."

She grinned at me, "Oh I intend to. One lesser known dimension of the
feminine arts is that a woman who masters them early enough, can
impact how her body develops."

I chewed over the statement for a second, thinking about her bodacious
body. "Did you master them early enough?"

She smiled a little, "I figured it out when I was 15. I still had a little
bit of growing time left to make use of. Not as much as I would have liked."

I imagined what she would look like if she had had more time. My dick felt
like it was about to burst. I gulped.

She rolled her hips a little. "I'm ready" she said, bringing my head down
to her nipple. Her milk did taste like apple, though better than any
apple flavored milk I had ever bought from a store.

The second feeding proceeded much like the first. I sucked contentedly
while she murmured about how natural this was, and extolled me not
to cum yet. Halfway through draining her second breast I became too
stuffed to continue. Emma cut off the flow of milk and increased the
rhythm of her vaginal palpitations. A few moments later I was
filling her with my seed, and she transitioned back to long, milking
tugs on my member.

"Wow. That was really good." I said. "I'm stuffed."

"Sorry about that. I got a little carried away." Again she made
no move to get off of me. I had recovered very quickly last time,
and I doubted I would be able to do the same.

"Emma?"

"Yeah."

"You said that your volume is not what it used to be. What did you
mean by that?"

She seemed to consider my question, "Well, if a woman goes from
secreting large quantities of milk to none or very little in a short
period of time, some or all of her milk glands can atrophy."

"I take it that's what happened to you."

"Yeah. It is pretty uncommon, because that sort of transition can
hurt. Most women who fall victim to the phenomenon are undergoing
a period of extreme emotional distress."

I was quite for a moment. "So when you got excommunicated..."

She nodded, "Exactly. I was in a dark place for a while. I'm
better now though."

"That's good."

"Yeah, I can have all sorts of fuuunnn now." At the word fun she
pressed her fingertips into my shoulders.  We stopped talking then,
and she rocked and wriggled atop me, until for the third time that
day, I came inside her.

After she had finished milking the last of my cum from my balls she
finally got off of me and wrapped up her robe. I looked at the clock.
It was 5:51. "Oh wow. It's late."

Emma glanced over her shoulder. "Whoops." She did not look very
apologetic.

"I'd better get back. We should do this again. Soon."

She nodded. "You could head back... or you could stay the night."

It took me all of half a second to come up with my answer. "That
sounds like just what the doctor ordered."

"Great! It's my turn to be hungry, so lets take care of that, and
we can curl up in bed? Watch something?"

"That sounds nice." I said.

"Do you want to help me cook?" She asked. I agreed readily, and
settled into the role of sou chef. There was not as much food
as the last couple times I had seen her eat, but it was still
a lot. After we finished we sat at the dining room table, and
I watched her elegantly fork potatoes, asparagus, and lamb
into her mouth. She cleaned the plate, and then led me back
into the bedroom.  We settled on watching some action flick, but
we only ever got 25 minutes into the bad dialog, overdone explosions,
and awesome choreography.

We spent Sunday in much the same way as Saturday, only we never set foot out
of her house. We could not keep our hands off each other, and we spent
the whole time eating, drinking, and fucking. Despite what she told me
had been a multi-year dry spell Emma was the most skilled lover I had
ever had. 

Two weeks later I had moved in. I was a little concerned that we were
moving so fast, but try as I might I could not see the relationship
turning bad. Her little condo was a bit small for the two of us, so after
a few months we started looking for a bigger place together. Eventually we
settled on one. The lake house was a little pricey for me, but it would be quite
manageable sharing the costs with Emma. The view was wonderful though.

The next few months were great, though I could tell that Emma was
becoming increasingly annoyed that she could not produce quite
enough milk to satisfy me in one meal. It bothered her when I had
store bought milk, so she would drain herself when it was not
a meal time and store the extra in the fridge. Her output was
actually a little greater than the average woman's over a 24
hour period because she recovered so fast, but her big breasts
just did not have enough healthy milk glands to hold enough
milk.

One day she came home from work and dropped a green folder on my
lap. I was at the computer so I finished my sentence and glanced
down. "Triaxidine Plus?" I asked.

She smiled at me, "I've started poking around for a way to fix
my production problems, and I came across this. It's a new drug
to help kickstart women's milk production. I was thinking of
applying to be in the study."

"Do you really need to do this, babe? It could be dangerous."

She rolled her eyes, "They have already done one round of
studies, this round is just to dial in on the dosage. Take
a look at the materials in the folder." She paused and her
lawyer face melted into a sexy pout, "And besides, you
know how much I hate watching you go hungry when I could
be giving you so much more..." She mashed her breasts together.
It was almost enough for me to agree then and there, but
I instead spent the next forty five minutes going over the
information in the study packet.

I looked up from a table showing results from the last
trial. It showed a success rate of
85% for women at the highest dose, 65% at the lowest
dose, and 10% for a placebo. There had been no indication
of ill effect. "Well it looks pretty safe to me." I
said to her. Emma grinned and ran over to me to give
me a hug. I was still sitting down, so this involved her
substantial bust covering my face completely.

"Awesome!" She said. "I did not want to do it if you weren't 
comfortable!" She straddled me and leaned down for a fierce
kiss. After she broke off she started unbuttoning her blouse.
"Soon these girls will be back in full form." She grinned at me,
and unhooked her front clasp bra. Used to the routine by now
I leaned in a took one of her nipples in my mouth. "Yeah
baby! Suck me dry."

Emma was accepted to the study and placed in the high dose
test group, though we would only learn this later. The treatment
was supposed to run over the course of a year, so she was
given a big bottle of little pink pills and told to take one a day.
She was to report to the clinic every month (having refrained from
giving milk for a day before hand) so that the researchers could
measure the volume of milk that she produced.

We started noticing results after two weeks or so. Emma was straddling
me, her vaginal wall slowly massaging my cock while I sucked on her
breasts. She cooed as I slowly thrust up and down, and I continued to
suckle. After a while her left breast ran out of milk, so I switched
to her right. Her right breast never ran out of milk. She was holding
onto the back of my head, pressing my face into her huge soft boob.
I gulped and gulped, but I realized that I was becoming full. I pushed
away from her. "Are you full babe?" She asked.

I chuckled, "Yeah."

She smiled, "I must not have gotten the placebo." Her vaginal
contractions picked up the pace, and before I knew it I had blown
my load inside her. The smile did not seem to disappear for days.

By the time her one month checkup came around Emma's production
was way up. Each one of her breasts was producing about as much
milk as they both had before. Emma said that she could not
wait for the day when I could not even finish one breast. Our
already active sex life turned up a notch. It seemed that the
drug was having some impact on her libido, although it was
possible that she just felt sexier now that her breasts were
no longer crippled.

By the second checkup Emma said her production was almost where
it had been before her excommunication. I found that mind
boggling because she was producing so much milk now that we
were having trouble figuring out where to put it. Our fridge
was packed, and Emma had taken to dumping gallons of milk at
a time. Often from a pitcher, but sometimes directly from her
breasts. She could squirt milk in controlled streams when
she wanted to, one day she had shown me how she can write
her name on the dirt with milk.

As her milk production had spiked so had Emma's appetite.
We noticed an increase in our food bill, and Emma seemed
to be eating for more than just one woman. She had taken
to tossing back a handful of TUMs after every meal to
keep her calcium levels high. I also noticed
that Emma's milk started to taste better. Even though she
was producing more than ever it had started to thicken. A mouthful of
milk seemed to be more filling nourishing than it had been a week
before, and I grew convinced that I was not able to drink nearly
as much as before. It was hard to tell because at this point
I was only putting a dent in the supply of Emma's prodigious
bust.

Even Emma was a little surprised that her output kept increasing
so steadily through the third month. We had been expecting her
breasts to settle into their old, admittedly astounding, capacity
but Emma was producing more milk every week. Her rate of production
was starting to outstrip her storage capacity. When she came home
from work her breasts would be puffed out of the top of her
G-cup bra. She said the swelling did not hurt, but from the way
she sighed in relief when I started to suckle I was not so sure.

"I love having my appetite back!" Emma said as she finished her
third large bowl of oatmeal and reached for another.

"I'm not complaining." I said glancing at her breasts. I had
not eaten yet and the thought of what her body was doing to
that oatmeal made me hungry.

She laughed, "I've noticed." Her nipples stiffened. "Hey,
check this out." She grabbed the maple syrup from the
table and took a couple of gulps. She cleared her throat,
"That's pretty sticky. Anyway I want you to note that I did
not put any maple syrup on my porridge. There's nothing up
my sleeves." She took off her shirt, "See."

I nodded, eyes glued to the foot or so of cleavage she had
revealed, "I see."

She brought her hands down and unclasped her bra, letting the
huge cups hang at her sides. A drip of milk beaded at the
tip of her left breast. "Drink."

I leaned down and wrapped my lips around her fat nipple.
I started gulping and was surprised to taste maple and
porridge in her milk. I was pretty hungry so I kept gulping
past the point where the flavor receded into Emma's default
rich creaminess. When I stood back up her breast was a little
deflated looking, but I knew it would be firm within the hour.
"I did not know you could blend multiple flavors." I said.

Emma beamed, "Until about a week ago, I couldn't." She said.

I looked at her perplexed, "I thought you were about as good
at the arts as a woman could be." I said.

She preened, "I was. But this drug is making me feel like I'm
having a second puberty. My body feels mutable. I don't think
any women had had the opportunity to take advantage of years
of experience and a changing body."

"Aren't you worried?" I asked.

"I've never felt better." She noticed the look on my face, "I
promise I will be on the lookout for anything that makes me feel
weird, Jack. I'm not crazy, just excited."

Emma had her head screwed on straight so I walked over to her
and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Ok, as long as you are being
careful."

Two weeks later Emma lost her big bottle of pink pills. "Jack!
Have you seen my pills anywhere?"

I looked up from the shopping list I was making. "No. They
aren't in the bathroom?"

She walked in from the dinning room. "It's the weirdest thing.
I never move them from the cabinet over the sink. Did you
touch them?"

"I've never even moved them to look for aspirin."

We looked all over the house, but could not seem to find where
they had ended up. Finally we were standing, exasperated,
in the middle of the living room, couch cushions strewn
all over the place, when Emma said, "Shit. I know what happened."

"What?" I asked.

"'cmon. I'll show you." She dragged me up to the bathroom.
"So I keep them there normally." She said pointing to a
spot on the right edge of the shelf.

"Okay?" I said, confused.

"Look." She said drawing a line from the place she was pointing to
the trashcan right beside the sink. "It must have fallen in the
trash."

"So why isn't it there now?" I asked.

"This morning I took out the trash, remember? I did a full house
sweep before. I must not have noticed."

Considering that we had already looked everywhere else I was willing
to buy it. "When you have eliminated all the impossible..." I said.

"Yeah." She said. "Shit." She took a few calming breaths and pulled
out her phone. "I suppose I will have to call them."

By the next day Emma had been supplied with another bottle of pills
with instructions to take two before settling into her normal routine.
Considering how smooth the replacement process had been Emma and I
felt like we might have overreached. Loosing a years supply of
a research drug was crappy, but the researchers would rather not
lose a study participant.

The little hiccup in her routine did not seem to slow Emma's changing
body any. Her milk production had grown to a tremendous rate, and her
breast volume had started to increase in order to keep up. I had started
noticing that her breasts were spilling over the edges of her bra
even when she put it on in the morning after a full drain. When she
took it off at the end of each day her straps left red lines in her
pale back. She bought an H cup bra a few days before her fourth
checkup. She had skipped right over a GG cup, and even so her breasts
were peaking out over the edges of her bra at the end of each day.

Her breasts were not the only thing which was changing. Emma had taken
to spending an hour at the beginning of each day meditating and doing
yoga. She would slip out of bed at 4:30 am and pull on a sports bra
and yoga pants. Under her application of the arts her already impressive
body had started to slowly change. Her butt was growing firmer,
and her hips a little wider. Her skin glowed with health, and all over
her body her muscle tone was improving.

Emma was really starting to struggle with holding all her milk in during
the work day. Her firm had a company milk bank, and she resolved to start
donating during the lunch hour and before she went home. In order to get
comfortable with the process she went to the milk bank at the local
community center a couple of times. The first time she came back she
was shaking from the ordeal, but after going a few more times the
experience had become routine enough that she was comfortable. The
opportunity to give milk at work made Emma much more physically comfortable,
and she said that it was comforting that it would be men she knew who
were drinking her milk.

A month later Emma's new routine consisted of getting up early for her
yoga and meditation, eating a huge breakfast, and heading to work,
her breasts so full of milk from the night before and her breakfast
that they spilled over the edges of the II-cup bras she had just bought.
Once she got to work she would dump four gallons of milk into the
milk bank (she could squirt so fast that this only took ten minutes).
During her lunch hour she would wolf down the contents of a microwave
sized cooler she packed every morning and then dump another
four gallons into the bank. Before she came home she would squirt
her 12th gallon into the milk bank and come home. Her breasts
would have about a third of a gallon each by the time she got home,
but she was always ravenous. I got home before her, so I usually
had a massive dinner ready for her. She would eat for an hour
or so. I was always hungry at that point and I she would give
me a sample of her bounty.

I had always been very attracted to Emma, but her changes were
effecting me pretty strongly. If it had been more than a day
since we had had sex I would grow hard as soon as she walked
in the room, and remain that way almost indefinitely. I'm not
sure if she knew what kind of impact she was having on me.

"Hey Jack? Can you pick up another half dozen chickens?" It
was a Friday afternoon and I was headed out the door to go
to the store. We had not had sex in a couple of days and
I felt myself stiffen at her approach.

"I'll put it on the... ah list" I said. Stumbling when I saw
the low cut tank top Emma had on over her braless bust. Her
nipples stood out prominently, and her milk kept the firm
mammaries high.

"Thanks! I'm always hungry. It all just goes to the girls." She
said sliding her hands up from her belly to cup her chest
from below.

I felt myself getting very hard. "... yeah. I'll, umm."

She let her breasts go and let them bounce freely. "Okay,
well I'll see you soon." She leaned in and gave me a
hug. At this point my cock was throbbing. "Want a quick
snack before you go?" She asked and pulled he hem of her
tank top up on top of her breasts. Wordlessly I allowed
her to pull me down to her nipple. Her milk seemed to
taste particularly good, and after a few gulps I started
twitching. "Oh my god Jack, are you?" She asked.
My face turned red, but I just kept drinking. She stroked
the back of my head, "Shhhh, shhhhe. Just drink from your girlfriend's
big sexy tit." She said.

After I finished drinking I turned towards the door. "Jack." She said.

"Yeah?" I replied, still embarrassed.

"You should clean yourself up before you go out." She said.

"That's a good idea." I said.

She grinned impishly, "I don't have any other kind."

Half a year into the treatment Emma was straining against
KK cups. She was producing over 16 gallons of milk a day, and
eating accordingly. Her morning meditations had yielded impressive
results for her musculature. Her skin looked like something out of
a lotion commercial and her burnished red curls could have sold
shampoo by the tanker truck. Even her face seemed to have
benefited. A few weeks before the six month checkup she stopped
wearing any makeup. It could no long do anything but hide her
radiance.

I was beginning to grow worried about her rate of growth, so
I resolved to bring up the possibility to stopping the trial.
She had just come home from work when I said, "Emma, I'm concerned
about what this drug is doing to you."

She put down her briefcase and shrugged off her coat, revealing
the monsters it had been partially obscuring. "Why's that?"
She said, lacing her hands through her hair and fluffing it
back.

"Well, you've gained nine cup sizes since you stated taking it,
and you are having to eat so much just to keep up with your
milk production. I'm worried."

She nodded and smoothed out her fitted green button down shirt.
I felt myself grow aroused. "I get it, but really I feel fine."
She started undoing her buttons. "After so long with dry breasts
I feel like a woman again." At the word woman she pressed her
tits together, forcing twin domes of breast flesh to peek out
of her top.

I was having trouble concentrating, and she continued to
unbutton her shirt. "I just worry what another 6 months of
the drug might do to you. You are already so much more
voluptuous than a normal woman. I want you to be able
to fit through doorways."

Her shirt was hanging all the way open and I could see that
her breasts were puffed over the edges of her cream colored
bra. I could make out a faint six pack in the shadows of
her huge mammaries. She turned to the side to give me a
view of herself in profile. Her chest jutted out proudly
like a ship's figurehead. Her bubble butt was very noticeable
in the pencil skirt she was wearing. "I'm fine. I feel good."
She smiled at the way I was staring. "I look good too."

I was practically drooling at this point, so I did not say
anything. She turned back towards me, and slowly leaned
down to peel off her skirt. As she did so her breasts hung 
down, undulating back and forth as she wriggled out of the
garment. The sight had me breathing hard. "Besides, this
drug is helping me keep you fed." She said, stepping out
of her skirt towards me. She was as tall as me in flats now,
and she was wearing four inch heels. The height
difference put my face closer to her chest. I gulped.

She looked me dead in the eye and took hold of her
front clasp. She pressed her breasts together and undid
the clasp in one motion. The cups fell to her sides as
she took another step forward. She let the garment fall
to the floor and took another step forward. I could feel
the heat of her milk laden breasts from a few feet away. Milk
beaded at the tips of her nipples and I could tell that I was
on the edge of orgasm. "Don't come yet Jack." She said.

She pulled my head to her chest and I had to struggle mightily
to prevent myself from spurting the moment my lips touched her
nipple. I don't know how I lasted the first couple of seconds,
but after I took a few gulps of milk something seemed to change.
It was almost as if I could feel Emma's will joined with mine,
preventing me from splattering all over my underwear. I
remained on the precipice of orgasm, leaned over to suckle at
her huge tit until I was almost full. Then, suddenly, I felt
the supporting presence switch from helping me prevent orgasm
to encouraging one. My feeble efforts to control my body were
overcome and I came so long and hard that I lost track of
time. I did not black out, but it was a near thing.

Afterwards Emma smiled and bounced her breasts up and down.
"It looks like you are an even bigger fan of the girls than
I am." I was still a little woozy so I just made some noises
of agreement and shambled off to the bathroom.

We did not have any more conversations about Emma leaving the
trial. A month later Emma had again grown two cup sizes. It
was fortunate that she was a lawyer because continually replacing
her wardrobe was getting pretty expensive. She would skip every
other cup size (she said she did not mind feeling a little pinched),
but the costs were still high.

In addition to the predictable growth of her milk factories
Emma had continued to undergo lots of little changes. She grew
taller and her muscles hardened until she looked like
Aphrodite's idea of a cross fit trainer. She had
started running in the mornings in addition to her meditation.
She got up at 3:30 am and was usually back at 4:20. Her route
worked out to about 8 miles, which worked out to a 6:15 minute
mile. Her face, hair, and skin continued to get subtle improvements,
and she had recently demonstrated a new ability to me. She could
subtly alter the tone of her skin and lips with a few moments of
concentration. I suspect her pheromones had gotten a boost
because I started getting aroused whenever she was in the house.

I was a little concerned by the ease with which she was able to
manipulate my state of arousal. I was always hard when she was
in the room, but she could make it difficult to concentrate on
anything else by flashing her cleavage or displaying her
rear. When I drank from her breasts it was a struggle not to
explode in my pants, though one which was made easier by her
will bolstering mine. When we had sex it was always preceded
by a feeding now. Without the extra help I had no prayer of
lasting within her. Once Emma's breasts were in contact with me
she seemed to be able to control my orgasm.

When Emma went in for her eight month checkup she was spilling
out of an MM cup bra. She had had a lot of trouble lasting 24 hours
before giving milk, and she said that she might have to dump a little
before the next checkup. I wanted to worry aloud, but knew that the
conversation would not get off the ground. She kissed me on the
cheek, and grabbed a stack of three sandwiches before
heading out. I watched her flaring hips roll as she walked away.

================================================================================

Anthony Greggs sat in a conference room in Jacobson, Bloomstein, and Feld.
An associate he had never worked with before, Emma Tenner, had called
him to set up a meeting about a case she was working on. He was beginning
to wonder where she was when a striking woman abruptly strode into the
room. With every step she took her huge breasts bounced sharply. Tony
could not help but stare. She was tall, over 6'5" feet in the 4 inch spike
heels she was wearing, but that was not what made Tony stare. Her red hair,
huge perky breasts, thin waste, and flaring hips made him think about
the Jessica Rabbit fantasies he had had as a young man. Jessica had
nothing on this woman. Her face alone would have made concentrating
on business difficult, but her ripe body made it impossible.

"Hi, I'm Emma. You must me Tony. It's great to meet you." She set down her
briefcase and extended a hand. After a moment Tony realized he was staring
at her chest and took the hand with a start. Her grip was firm without
being crushing.

Emma took a seat and placed what appeared to be a lunch box on the table
to her left. "Do you mind if I eat? I'm always hungry."

"G-Go ahead." Said Tony. After the change all women produced milk, and
considering the size of her knockers Tony was sure he knew where the
sandwich Emma had started munching on was going. He had eaten lunch
a couple of hours ago, but he felt himself get a little hungry at
the thought.

She smiled, "Thanks. Anyway, you're here because JBF is representing
Fider Capital for a proposed deal with Benson Industries. Benson wants
to get out of the car loan business, so they are spinning off their
stake in Ford Financial. There are several balls in the air, but everything
seemed to be resolving nicely until one of our paralegals found a discrepancy
in some of Benson Industries environmental reporting. I looked into it..."
Emma noticed that Tony was staring at her chest. She liked the changes
that Triaxidine Plus had wrought in her, but sometimes they could be annoying.
With an effort of will she altered her pheromone output. Tony would still
be aroused, but hopefully he would be able to concentrate better. "Tony,
focus." She said.

He blushed, "Sorry." He shook his head, "You were saying something about
an environmental discrepancy. What do you know about it?"

*Good recovery* Emma thought, "At this point not much. Everything *looks*
above board until you start looking really closely at the amount of
diesel fuel they are shipping to one of their new oil sites in
Nebraska. Given some plans that were turned down by the EPA a few
years back it raises some questions." She took a bite from her sandwich.

Tony did an admirable job of paying attention despite his erection,
"And you can't find out enough from just the paperwork. You need me
to go check things out."

"That's right. Let me fill you in on the specifics. The discrepancy
only becomes noticeable when you have a big picture view. You don't
have to be anywhere do you?" Emma asked.

"This was the only thing on my calendar for the afternoon."

"Great! Let's get started." Emma took a fat wad of papers out of
her briefcase.

Three hours later Emma leaned back in her chair and arched her
back, stretching her hands overhead. The stretch lifted her breasts
up noticeably, and Tony, who had not been soft since she walked in the
room, felt his dick throb. "That's most of it." She said and gathered
up the dozen or so large sandwich bags she had emptied during the
meeting. The food had gone straight to her chest and Tony could
make out the outline of her bra where her flesh was peeking out
of it. "We just need to go over the diesel contracts and their
internal fuel routing documents."

"Do you mind if I take a break for dinner? I'm pretty hungry."
Tony asked. Even though he had had a late lunch he had been
feeling peckish almost since the meeting had begun.

Emma unwrapped another sandwich from her seemingly inexhaustible
supply. "Oh of course. I'm sorry I've been eating in front of
you without offering to get you anything."

"Thanks. Where is a good place to go?"

Emma tore off a bite and gulped it down without really chewing.
"Well there are a couple of pubs up on Folly Street that I've
heard serve pretty good milk. You could just take some from
the kitchen... " She trailed off. She had been wanting to
experiment with a new ability she was developing, but was
unwilling to test it completely on Jack. "But you don't have to go
that far."

Tony's dick was throbbing steadily now, "What, like?"

"Yeah. Why not? I'm starting to feel a little full, and we
are almost done. This way we will finish faster."

Tony hesitated and Emma started unbuttoning her fitted black
shirt. He could only stare as acres of creamy breast flesh
came into view. "'cmon. I won't tell if you don't." She said.

When she undid her last button and let her shirt drop to
either side of her sleek body Tony gave in. "I suppose
it will save time." His gaze flitted from her toned tummy
to her monstrous breasts. When she unclasped her bra
he became seriously worried that he would cum in his
pants. He managed to hold off for long enough to take
her large nipple in his mouth and start sucking.

Emma experimented with the mental pressure she put on
Tony more than she ever had with Jack, going further than just
preventing him from coming. Clumsily at first, but with rapidly
growing skill, she felt around in the animalistic part of his
mind that she had access to. To give herself more time to work
she slowed down the rate at which milk flowed from her nipple
to his mouth. With careful pushes she elevated Tony's attraction
to her to a worshipful obsession. She massaged his mind as he
drank, making the experience the most sublime he had ever
had, ensuring that he would yearn for her milk again.
As Tony drank he came to realize that it was the natural order
of things that he should submit to Emma and her tremendous
bust.

After Tony's meal Emma clasped her bra, but made no move to
button her shirt back up. "Let's go over the rest of it."
She said, "Pay close attention." Suddenly it was very
important to Tony that he pay close attention.

When Emma was finished going over the rest of the case she
said, "Now there is the matter of your payment. I was thinking
$30 and hour plus expenses was fair." Tony was a very good PI,
and that was much less than his regular rate, but when she
said, "You would report directly to me." He knew he would
agree. The prospect of seeing Emma again and working with,
no under, her excited him. "And Tony,"

"Yeah."

"If you have to masturbate there is a bathroom down the hall."

He gulped.

================================================================================

"Babe, you want to see what a double N looks like?" I heard Emma call from
the kitchen. I walked over to see that she had just opened a package and
was pulling on a green demi-cup bra. On another woman it would have been
a two-and-a-half cup bra but it just barely covered her nipples. The
sight of her standing there in the kitchen, half clothed left me
speechless.

Lately my desire for Emma had started to morph into an
obsession. The only time I was truly happy was when I was
suckling at her breast. I found myself thinking about her at work
more and more. It was cutting into my productivity. When she was
in the same room concentration became difficult in direct
proportion to the amount of skin she was showing. When more than
a few inches of her cleavage was on display I had trouble being
coherent. I think she noticed, but did not care. Her wardrobe
around the house often consisted of clothing from a few sizes
ago, and her chest was frequently busting out of an old shirt.
To make matters worse she was wearing mini skirts and short
shorts around the house with increasing regularity. She always
looked professional when she went out, but when she was home Emma
liked to torture me with her burdening body.

"Do you like the green?" She asked. She must have know I was
unable to respond coherently, but she wanted to twist the knife.

I made some grunts which might have been affirmative, but
mostly goggled at the way her chest swayed when she walked
towards me. My mouth watered and my dick throbbed. I had been
reduced to purely physical impulses. Emma seemed to notice
the pleading hunger in my eyes because she said, "Not now
Jack, I just fed you." It was true. I was still full from
the feeding, but I wanted to taste Emma's milk regardless.

Emma pulled her shirt back on and tied it under her breasts,
doing nothing to conceal their glory. "Come on. I have a job
for you. She walked into the garage." Stacked in a row
were several dozen bags of loamy top soil. "I was going to
spread this on the garden today, but I want to check out
that farmer's market. I'll be back at 2ish, why don't you
have this all spread out by then. It will help you work up
an appetite." She winked. I don't really like gardening,
and it was more her garden than ours, but in my hormone
drenched state I was in no position to resist. "Thanks,
babe." She said and flounced out of the garage.

When she returned I was putting the finishing touches
on the gardening work. She tromped up to the house holding
a dozen reusable grocery bags on each arm. She did
not look even slightly strained by the effort. "Once I
finish unloading these, will you do a grocery run to pick
up staples?"

"That looks like plenty of food." I pointed out.

She plunked down the bags inside and walked back out.
"Yeah, but they didn't have some of the things that I use for
my sandwiches."

Her proximity was making it hard to concentrate,
so I acquiesced. "Ok. Should I just get the usual?"
She nodded and went indoors. The usual consisted of enough food to
keep a family of five happy for two weeks, but Emma went through
it in a week. We made most of the money spent on groceries back
when Emma sold her milk (either via reimbursements at her firm
or from the milkman). After the change milkmen both delivered
milk and took it away. Emma had to negotiate a special account
with the milk company. She produced so much milk that she filled
twelve five gallon drums in a weekend. A few weeks ago she had
sent in a sample of her milk to a smaller company which
specialized in "extra creamy" milk and paid more, but that
was still in the works.

When I got back from the grocery store Emma greeted me with
a sandwich in her hand, holding the door open for me. It
took me several trips to get all the food in the house.
While I put everything away Emma devoured three sandwiches
she had made from the farmer's market take. All the while
she exclaimed about how good it was. The task was made even
more difficult by the fact that she had opted to forgo
her shirt at some point when I was out. Even though her
bra was new, it looked tight against her chest, and I
could tell she was full of milk. 

Once I finished Emma said, "Ok, you've been a good boy. Why
don't you come take a drink."

I eagerly scrambled over and she shrugged out of her bra.
Before long I was kneeling at her feet with her nipple
in my mouth. Her boob was noticeably bigger than my head.
As I sucked I felt her presence surround me. This is what
I was meant to do. Suckle at Emma's gargantuan teat,
submitting to her will, getting subsumed by the force of
her sexuality. It was inevitable. When I was finished
there was no discernible reduction in the tautness of
her breast. "I have to go fill some jugs." She said
and walked over to where she kept the five gallon drums.

================================================================================

Jenny relaxed as she felt the breast pump whir to life, sucking
the accumulated milk from her breasts. She was looking forward
to going home for the day, and relieving pressure always felt
nice.

"Hi Jenny." A sultry alto called. Just when Jenny was beginning to
relax, Emma had to show up. It wasn't that Jenny disliked Emma,
it was just that she always felt inadequate around the woman.
Both women had joined JBF a few years back, and at first they
had been much alike. Young, ambitious lawyers looking for a place
to make their mark. They had been physically similar as well.
Jenny had not been as voluptuous as Emma even then, she was only
an E cup to Emma's impressive G.

"Hi Emma." Jenny replied, watching as Emma unbuttoned her
shirt and placed twin suction cups over her nipples.
Over the last year or so though Emma had changed. There were
the obvious physical changes, her ballooning chest and
radiant glow of health were impossible to ignore. When people
asked, she said that the changes were due to a hormonal shift,
a kind of delayed puberty. Emma's changes were not entirely
physical. She had gone from a good lawyer to a fantastic one.
She could pick out tiny details and discrepancies in a document
after reading it once, at a pace that would have required
anyone else to skim. She had grown more assertive and dominant
both within the firm and at the negotiating table. Jenny had
been in a few meetings where Emma set the pace despite
there being a partner present.

"Ooohhh. I'm so full. I always love the moment of release
don't you?" Emma said.

"Yeah." Jenny agreed. The hoses attached to Emma's nipple
cups jumped as they filled with milk. Jenny could see the
numbers on the meter in front of the larger woman spinning
rapidly upwards. The pump did not seem to have to work
at all even though it was on its tenth speed, the one
that came with a safety warning. It was only supposed to
be used for emergencies, when a woman was worried she might
literally pop, but Emma seemed to use it as a matter of
course. Jenny's pump was set to two. The highest she had
ever turned a pump was five.

It had been over six months since Jenny had used setting
three or above. Her milk production had been slowing down
lately, which only added to her jealousy at Emma's ridicules
output. In fact the cups at her nipples were starting to pinch,
so she turned her pump down to 1.

Emma allowed her pheromones to flood off of her. Keeping her
pheromone output to a manageable level was not difficult,
but it did take a constant tiny effort of will and it was nice
to let go. It was much nicer at home where she did not have
to worry about destroying the productivity of her male
coworkers. Normally she would have expected them to handle
themselves around an attractive woman, but considering the
way that she had constructed her new body they did not stand
a chance. Lately she had been finding that merely limiting
pheromone output was not enough, so she had been working
on a way to emit a pheromone which would dampen arousal.

Jenny stared at Emma standing regally at her milking
station, and felt the whole weight of her inadequacies
crushing down on her. Her milk had slowed to a trickle,
though it was clear that Emma's was gushing into the
machine. Next to Emma's perfect bubble butt hers was
a bowl of flab. Her hair looked lank and her face
pallid when compared with the charms of the other
woman.

Despite the fact that Emma had expressed much more milk.
Gallons, Jenny was sure. She finished first and buttoned
herself back up. "Well, back to the grind!" she said
brightly. When she had left a painful pinching told
Jenny that her nipples had gone dry even though she could
still feel milk in her breasts. Unbidden she felt a
sob shake her chest.

================================================================================

Emma was a few inches taller me on her ten month checkup. Her growth showed
no sign of abating. Her morning runs were ranging longer and
longer, though they still took about 50 minutes. Last time I had
asked she was going about 12 miles on a run. That made a 4:10
minute mile. She did not seem to need much sleep anymore, only an hour
or two a night. I'm not exactly sure what she did with the extra
time. More meditation and work I suppose.

The balance of power in our relationship had shifted noticeably.
It had already been skewed, but as I increasingly lost the
ability to think abstractly when Emma was around she took
more initiative in telling me what to do. Her presence seemed
to set me back about 60 IQ points, a phenomenon that amused
her to no end. She had even tested it, making me do math
with her one room away, and sitting right next to me. The
results were predictable. Adding to my arousal induced stupidity
I had a burning desire to obey and submit to Emma.

This desire was reinforced every time I drank from her bosom.
The moment my lips touched her nipple I felt a sense of tremendous
belonging. As I drank every instance where I had obeyed her since
my last meal would swim to the surface of my mind along with an
overriding sense of happiness and contentment. Similarly, anytime
I had disobeyed her would come to mind accompanied with intense
shame and frustration with my past self for displeasing her.
Her displeasure could even be for failing to anticipate a
need or desire (I no longer ever let her run out of food).
Somewhere along the line I had become well and truly her thrall.

================================================================================

Henry Feld cast one last glance over his email, and started the shutdown
sequence on his computer. He was glad to be going home finally, so
he was a little annoyed to hear a knock on the door of his corner
office. "Come In." He called. Emma Tenner stepped into his office.
"Oh, Hi Emma. Great work on that settlement today. You had the poor
fellow from Simpson and Grace speechless."

"Thank you." Emma purred. Of course it had helped that he was so
aroused he could hardly think. Flooding a room with her pheromones
could have impressive results.

"What did you want to talk about?" Henry asked. A bit unnerved
by the way that Emma was stalking towards him. She was a very
tall woman, and at only 5'8" Henry was 11" shorter than her
in her 4" heals.

"I wanted to discuss a promotion. I think I've amply demonstrated
my abilities." Her heals made an authoritative clicking sound
as she walked forward.

Henry's eyes were drawn to her powerful thighs, "Well, that's
certainly a conversation the partners are going to have soon.
There is a short list of people for Junior Partner, and you are
on it." He was having trouble focusing.

"That's gooood." Emma drew out the word. "but I think it would
be more appropriate to make me a full partner as soon as
possible."

Emma was getting uncomfortably close now and Henry started
to back up as he said, "Emma, you know the way promotions
work. You won't be up for full partner until at least
three years after you make Junior Partner, and that is
almost unheard of." He felt his back thump against the wall.

"You can make an exception for such an asset to the firm."
Emma started slowly unbuttoning her blouse. Henry was
transfixed by the sight of more and more cleavage coming
into view.

"Really, Emma, this is quite..." He trailed off.

Emma finished with her blouse and ran her hands over the
massive red lace bra that covered the bottom half of her
knockers. "I've seen you staring at my chest Henry. You must
be wondering what its like to drink directly from a real woman."

A fluid motion left the bra cups dangling at her sides. The drop
of milk which beaded on her nipple beckoned to Henry. He
realized the outcome of this encounter had been inevitable
as soon as Emma walked in the door. She was a good lawyer,
and good lawyers get what they want.

Henry did not have to bend down much to take the nipple in
his mouth. When he did he tasted better than anything which
ever passed his lips. An enormous presence seemed to wrap
itself around his mind, massaging and reshaping.

"You've always wanted to submit to a powerful woman like
me haven't you Henry? Ever since you first met me you've
been wondering what it would be like to suckle at my
huge breast. Bigger than any you have ever seen before.
You've always known in your heart of hearts that your
place was under me, serving me. I am your goddess.
You nothing more than my possession, my plaything."

Emma's words sank into Henry. With every gulp they seemed more
true, as if he had always felt that way, as if he had always
belonged to the incredibly busty red head. He felt intense
shame at his words a few minutes ago. Of course Emma deserved
to be made a full partner. Really she should be a senior partner,
but he knew that it was not his place to suggest it.

When his lips left her nipple Emma smiled maternally down at
him. "I trust you agree with me?"

He nodded, "Of course."

================================================================================

When Emma's first PP cup bra arrived in the mail the end of the trial was a
month away. In bare feet she stood four inches taller than me, which meant
I only had to bend down a little in order to fit her nipple in my mouth.
She frequently wore heals; leather spike boots had become a particular
favorite, so it was even easier to get at her bounty.

I was increasingly struggling to have any sort of independent thought
around Emma. Her presence was so overwhelming that I was like a vessel
swept clean. The contemptuous ease with which she could mold my mind
to her will when I was suckling had started to show up at other times.
I felt her will wrapped around mine as I stared at her cleavage or
eyes or hair or ass from across the room. There was no longer any
pretense that we were equal partners, or that I was even a person
of my own. As far as either of us was concerned I was just one of
Emma's possessions.

She was making enough money to support us, and anticipated a promotion
to full partner soon, so she ordered me to quit my job. I became her
servant, cleaning up after her, and doing anything which
needed doing for the house to be kept according to her
satisfaction. She had always been a pretty neat person, but
she stopped doing anything at all to keep the house neat.

Her clothes were left strewn around the house as she undressed.
She liked to have multiple outfits for a day, so I was kept busy
keeping up with her. If clothing was not ironed and ready by a
day after she used it I would feel the intense shame of her
displeasure. I liked my laundry duties because they gave
me an opportunity to handle her huge bras. The cup of one
could wrap my head twice over. She had special carbon fiber
reinforced sports bras which allowed her to run without
getting jostled, and even though I had to clean them by hand
I loved the work.

I was responsible for making sure Emma had a constant supply of
food whenever she was in the house, and for packing her sandwich
coolers every day. She would leave plates and wrappers everywhere,
and if she ever saw one after she had left it where she had
been eating I would know about it.

"Jack. Look what I found." Emma was holding a fig newton wrapper.
She stood in the doorway in nothing but a set of matching purple
bra and panties. She frequently walked around the house in just
her underwear these days.

I felt deep shame wash over me. The sight of her had me ready
to orgasm, but I was forbidden to without her permission.
"I-I'm sorry. It won't happen again Mistress." I started
to wimpier involuntarily. I felt her anger at my incompetence
radiating off of her in waves.

Drenched in lust and fear I shuffled over to her, begging
forgiveness. She made me kiss her feet and explain how
lucky I was that she was willing to put up with my
patheticness. After fifteen minutes of bathing her feat
with my tongue she allowed me to eat the wrapper. Anything
besides Emma's milk was revolting to me, but I choked
it down, knowing that it would mean days of discomfort.

================================================================================

The Jacobson, Bloomstein, and Feld week long executive retreat
was going to be held in a rustic cabin in the mountains this
year. Every year the upper echelon of the firm flew to some
exotic local for a marathon of company bonding and planning for
the upcoming year. Usually it was held some place with colorful
drinks and sand, but Henry Feld had suggested a change of
scenery this year. He had proposed they go to the Back to Basics
Reserve in New Hampshire.

Along with the executive team several of the more promising
partners were invited along. There were 19 people who would
be coming along. Of the 19 two were women: Emma Tenner, a
newly minted partner of extreme promise, and Lara Hammerstein,
the head of HR. JBF had a bit of a diversity problem among
the executives. The Back to Basics coordinators had expressed
some concern at the gender ratio, but Henry had brushed it off
as just another nosy liberal, and besides he had very
explicit instructions from Emma.

Despite its name Back to Basics had provided an internet connection,
and a fairly modern kitchen heavily stocked with food. The cabin
itself was on a paved road and looked more like a low slung house
than a cabin. There was no milk in the fridge, but everyone assumed
the Back to Basics staff would be back to stock the fridge. The
JBF executive team was not used to concerning themselves with
minor details like where the milk came from.

By dinner time it was obvious that the Back to Basics staff would
be late with the milk. When Emma and Lara had finished their dinner
and the staff still had not arrived Todd Andrews spoke up, "Come
on. When is this milk going to arrive?"

"This is really weird." Lara pointed out. She was scrapping out
the huge pot that she and Emma had used to cook their pasta. Emma
had eaten 95% of the food, but Lara was still full to bursting.
It was amazing how much the busty red head could put away.
Lara vacillated between feeling jealous of Emma and feeling
sorry for her. Emma was obviously a very talented lawyer, and
Lara had seen the way that some of the men around the office
ogled her when she was not looking or even when she was. Lara often
thought that Emma was very strong for handling the objectification
so stoically. When Lara was close to Emma, however, her high
minded sympathy turned into seething jealousy. The other woman
was just everything that Lara was not. Emma's huge breasts,
traffic stopping ass, and glamor model countenance stood
in stark contrast to Lara's B cup breasts, flabby bottom,
and homely appearance. Currently her intellect was fighting
off an intense visceral reaction to Emma's proximity.
It was a loosing battle, and Lara felt herself slip into
a downward spiral of despair. 

"Yeah. Very unprofessional." Emma said pinching her bra through
her shirt and tugging it up. She made a small face of discomfort.
"Listen, I haven't expressed since lunch and I'm feeling a little
full. After we finish this do you want to look for a station?"

Lara only expressed milk once a day, and being reminded that Emma
filled up so quickly was an unwelcome reminder of their comparative
differences, "Sure."

They washed dishes in silence until. Once they finished they started
looking for something to hold their milk.
"Wait, actually, this could be the solution to the problem the
boys are having." Emma said as they started looking around for
some receptacles.

"What do you mean?"

"Well we have to express, and they must be getting pretty hungry.
The solution seems obvious."

Lara chewed her lip, "What about STDs?"

"Well we won't get them. I'm clean, are you?"

"Well yeah, but. It just seems so irregular. And there are
only two of us." Looking at the way that Emma's breasts covered
her arms and stuck out more than a foot and a half from her
chest, Lara thought that the two of them might have a chance
of feeding all of the men after all. Of course she would hardly
contribute.

Emma had been peering in a cupboard, and now she stood up,
"I don't think there is milk coming, and I'm not just going
to dump my milk if they guys are going to starve. There is nothing
in town, they would have to drive for like an hour to get something
to drink."

Considering the size of Emma's breasts it probably would not
matter what Lara thought. "Ok." She said.

"Great! I found some jugs." Emma said. *You are never without them*
Lara thought with envy. Emma was holding two five gallon water jugs.
"Let's go to the vestibule." Emma said.

The two women walked into the adjoining room and Emma immediately
started unbuttoning her shirt. Lara could feel the heat emanating
from her breasts, and she realized suddenly that Emma's nipples
were at her head height. The other woman towered above Lara in
her heels and Lara felt herself slide further into despair about
her own paltry curves. With what looked like long practice Emma
opened her bra from the front and slid her two inch long,
inch wide nipples into the mouths of the jugs. Milk jetted
forcefully into the plastic containers. Lara had never seen someone
shoot milk out like that. It always had to be sucked or kneaded.
She watched in awe as the milk level in the jugs climbed steadily,
until Emma's milk abruptly tapered off when each jug was almost
full. Almost as impressive as the volume was the ease with
which Emma managed the whole affair. It took her ten minutes,
and each jug weighed about fifty pounds when full. She had to
hold each jug in front of her for ten minutes as its weight
slowly increased. Not once did she show a sign of strain.

Emma bent down to set the jugs on the ground, thrusting her
bubble butt out as if to remind Lara of her perfection.
When she stood up she closed the clasp on her bra. Her
breasts looked deflated. They were still huge enough to cover
her upper arms and jut forward like independent entities, but
Lara could see that they had lost volume. Emma's bra seemed
to be stretchy because it forced some shape onto her
formerly firm breasts. "Do you want to have a go?" She
said as she buttoned up her shirt.

For some reason that display seemed to have dried Lara right
up. She knew she could not compete, so her body did not seem
to want to bother. "I think I'm good for now."

"Suit yourself." Emma said bending down to pick up the jugs.
"You coming?"

"I'm going to stay here."

It was a little odd, but lately Emma was starting to think that
her pheromones were having an effect on women as well as men,
and this seemed like it might be connected to that. "Ok."
She said and walked back into the kitchen.

She went into the living room where most of the men were gathered.
"I got you guys some milk." She said.

Todd jumped up, "They finally brought it. I was about to drive
down to the supermarket."

Emma blushed lightly (she could do that when she wanted to), "Well
not exactly, Lara and I had to express, and, well... We thought with
you all being so hungry."

There was a moment of silence in which the members of the executive
team each recalled a private fantasy they had about Emma and tried
to act as if they were considering things rationally. Eventually,
Frank Lunt jumped up. "Well, I'm going to get a drink. I am famished."
He said.

Emma's hips rolled as she lead them into the kitchen. There was
a slight gasp as the men saw the two full jugs on the counter.
It was obvious that Lara could not have contributed much to
what they saw, so it must have come almost all from Emma.
With effortless ease she picked up one jug and started
pouring into cups. The assembled JBF execs gulped down
their shares in silence and quickly asked for seconds.
Emma was happy to oblige. They were not as intent upon
filling their bellies in the second round and she started
to hear little comments.

"This is very good."

"Creamy."

"So thick."

"I wonder if this is why the milk at the office is so good."

She preened a little bit as she imagined each of them thinking
about what it would be like to drink directly from the source.
When they had finished their meal the first jug still had 
several inches of milk in the bottom.

When Emma went to pour the rest down the sink someone spoke up
"Shouldn't we save that?"

"Why? There is plenty more where it came from." She said.

Breakfast the next day proceeded in much the same way.
Emma handed out cups of milk as she let the pheromones
sheet off of her. The JBF executives were helpless with
arousal. The energy of the meal carried over into the
morning meetings with Emma doing most of the talking,
explaining her thoughts on company direction.

Shortly after lunch Lara explained that she was feeling
sick and needed to go home. She had not expressed milk
since she came to the retreat, nor would she ever again.
Her B-cup bras were feeling loose, and an intense depression
dulled her senses. No one really noticed when she left.

At dinner Emma suggested that they skip the intermediary
step and drink directly from her breasts. Over the course
of a few hours she fed each man, allowing them to suckle
two at a time. As each man latched onto her breasts
she took hold of his mind, reshaping him into a compliant
slave. With every gulp they realized how right it was to
submit to a powerful woman like Emma.

After lunch of the third day Emma was confidant that she
owned each and every one of them. They begged for the
right to lick her five inch spike boots. They whimpered
at the slightest sign of her displeasure. She spent the
rest of the retreat practicing molding minds from a distance
and explaining what her new slaves were going to do in order
to please their Mistress.

================================================================================

"Jack. Get me my pill." It would be her last. Emma now stood
6'5" in bare feet and had to encase her tits in a QQ cup
bra. Her breasts brushed the sides of narrow doorways when
she went through. I hurried to retrieve the pill.

When I got back she was holding the bottle of pills. It was
strange because I had just left the bottle behind in the bathroom.
With Emma wearing nothing but spandex short shorts and a normal
sports bra (not one of her reinforced running ones) I was to
stupid to put two and two together. "Last two pills." She said.

"But." I said.

"I never really lost that first bottle of pills. Its been in
my purse the whole time." She gave a throaty chuckle. At this
point I was two much of a shell to do anything but stare
blankly as she tossed the last couple of pills back.

Emma's personality had completely changed since she started
the trial. She now seemed to regard other people as things
to be taken, and controlled. The illusion that we were dating
had completely disappeared. I was just a thing and could no more
date a goddess like Emma, than a toaster could. She was now
regularly bringing men home. Mostly she had already enslaved
them, but sometimes I got to watch as she pinned one
to the wall with her gaze and inserted her nipple into his mouth.

================================================================================

Emma continued growing after she completed the trial, eventually
stabilizing at 6'7" with S cups six months after it had
ended. She often wore 6" heels, which meant that most men had to
lean up a little to suckle at her teat.  Somehow she had become
the owner of her law firm, and her circle of slaves had continued
to grow. I was now just one of many servants competing to be
noticed by an imperious Mistress.

================================================================================

Emma swirled a glass of $1000 brandy and looked out over the city.
It had been ten years since the drug trial and she had not changed
a bit, at least physically. Her art was powerful enough that she
could prevent her perfect body from aging.

The past ten years had been kind to her. Her law firm had grown
rapidly, until it was the biggest firm in the city, then the country,
and for the last four years, the world. It helped that she could
hypnotize and enslave her most talented rivals, and that
they would work for far less money than would normally be expected.

Her business had become an amusing distraction these days. Now she
spent most of her energy working to expand her circle of slaves in
governments around the world. She had long since fully penetrated
Washington, and she was rapidly expanding her influence elsewhere.
The extra brain power from the drug had helped her learn Chinese,
which was where most of her current efforts were focused.

"Ms. Tenner, General So is here to see you."

Emma pressed a button on her phone, "Send him in."