Chapter 22: Crying Over Spilled Milk

Note from the author: Thank you all so much for the feedback on the last chapter, you guys really came in clutch with good ideas! So, as promised, here is the next chapter. I think certain themes in both this chapter and the next few will seem quite familiar! Should anyone have any more ideas or suggestions, feel free to continue to comment, I will probably see it at some point. Anyway, thanks again, and enjoy!

-GhostWriter

The next day, Leah was on her couch reading a book when she heard a knocking at her door.

"Leah, it's us. Got a minute?" said the recognizable voice of Pamela.

Leah marked her page and set the book aside, getting up from her spot. True enough, when she opened the door, Pamela and Amy entered her humble apartment.

"Hey. How you doin'?" they asked.

"Well, you want the long version or the short version?" Leah returned their question with one of her own.

"The doctor's office called, said your condition was worsening." Amy stated. "They said you were lactating now."

Leah nodded, shamefully.

"What's with this? What's with the bathrobe?" Pamela prodded, noting Leah's garb of choice.

Since this past weekend, it'd become difficult for Leah to deal with clothes. Most of her bras were too tight, she could barely squeeze into any of her pants, and everything she wore seemed to end up drenched in milk or precum. As such, she decided to keep things au naturale, and don a robe when expecting visitors. After all, she couldn't leave the house in her current state, and what would she be able to accomplish even if she did? Her cock, balls, or leaky tits would just get in the way.

"Oh, right. I've kind of outgrown most of my stuff. Figured this would keep me covered when I'm not completely alone." Leah answered.

"Cool, cool." the girls brushed it off.

From there, they all sat around her living room, trying to make conversation, desperately trying to ignore the elephant in the room. Amy and Pam tried their best to maintain the illusion of normalcy, but avoiding discussion about Leah was difficult. On the other hand, Leah was doing everything in her power to not imagine her friends naked, or let them realize that she had a massive boner running up against her stomach.

"So, umm.... what's it like? You know, when you make milk?" Amy nervously asked.

"What?"

"AMY!" Pamela shrieked.

Amy quickly backpedaled. "Right, right! Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean...."

"No, it's fine. We can't pretend nothing's happened." Leah quickly forgave her. "Yeah, um. It's like this.... warm, full feeling. And if I get really engorged, it's like it's so tight! Like filled water balloons."

"Wow. Does it feel.... good?" Amy probed further.

"Well, yes and no. When I'm at, like, max capacity, there's a lot of pressure there. But once everything gets going, it's a crazy rush, feeling it all pour out."

Amy and Pamela were both embarrassed and intrigued, eager to find out more.

It was Pamela's turn now. "Since we're on the topic, have you tried tasting your milk? Like, what do you do with it? Store it, spill it, dump it out?"

"Well, I've certainly leaked a lot of it; on the floor, the sink, the bed, my tub. It's made plenty of messes. Aside from that, I mostly just drain it. Usually in the sink, but sometimes in the shower or bath if.... the other thing acts up when I'm doing it." Leah's eyes darted to her groin and back up, tacitly hinting at the troublemaker.

"So, you've never tasted it? Not even a sip?"

"Guess I never thought about it. Besides, things are kind of weird enough. I probably shouldn't get too used to the idea of producing milk, let alone drinking it."

"Right, right. I gotchu." Pam agreed.

The conversation ended shortly thereafter. It became too awkward to carry on, talking about Leah and her milk. Somewhat satisfied with their friend's health and safety, the girls left in the early evening, leaving Leah back to her own devices.

That night, Leah was preparing for bed, wiping/dabbing her cock clean with tissues, then milking her swollen mammaries. As she squeezed and pulled on her tender nipples, she couldn't help but think back to the conversation earlier.

"You've never tasted it? Not even a sip?"

Pamela's words echoed in her mind. Leah looked herself in the bathroom mirror as she worked, then looked down at her dripping milk makers. She brought a hand to her mouth, sticking her fingers inside. Her tongue encircled them, lapping up the sweet cream.

"Hmm." Leah hummed, unsure of what to make of the tiny drops she tasted.

She reached into one of her cupboards and grabbed a plastic cup. She always had a few for guests and emergencies. Placing the disposable beneath her, she reached for her nipples and tugged, spraying some of her ivory bounty into it. Eventually, Leah could feel her breasts emptying, and the cup was about half-filled, give or take. With a moment of hesitation, she held it aloft, then rapidly downed the drink.

It wasn't much, but it was enough. It was sweet. VERY sweet. But not disgustingly so. It was rich too. Rich and creamy.

"Mmmmm."

She was very satisfied with the taste, but an internal conflict soon took hold of her.

"Wait, what am I doing? Why am I tasting my own milk?" the girl thought to herself. "Should I be doing this? Maybe it's just my body, going crazy like before."

She looked back at the now empty plastic cup and licked her lips. She was feeling torn. Would it really be so bad to do it again? To keep drinking her own milk? Or should she come to her senses and stop while she still could?

Only one thing became certain: when Leah looked at that empty cup, with little beads of white still clinging to the inside, she felt ****. She was thirsty; she wanted more.