Embarassingly well.

Sighing in annoyance, Pastor Clarke put the bowl on his desk and stripped his upper body, throwing down the sweatshirt on the floor next to him. His nipples looked so swollen, so big... maybe... were they bigger than the last time? No. No, definitely not. They couldn't be. No, the pastor decided he'd empty them, then the swelling would go down, and sooner or later, he'd stop lactating. Easy as that. He elected to ignore the brief thrill of sensation as he thought back to how good it had felt this morning...

Pastor Clarke stared down into the bowl, his throat feeling dry. There was... more, right? It hadn't been this full before. Or had it? It was hard to tell, really. Maybe a few fractions of an inch, if that... But--

"Agh!" The pastor jerked his hands away from his swollen nipples; he'd been massaging them again, the pleasant tingles running down his spine making his member rock-hard and straining. "Why'm I always..."

A knock on the door interrupted Pastor Clarke's mental self-flagellation. Quickly wiping his milk-stained fingers on the towel, the pastor snatched up his sweatshirt and pulled it over his head - and heard the door open.

"Oh! I'm sorry." Sarah stayed at the door, by the sound of things; Pastor Clarke couldn't see much until he'd pulled his shirt down. Once he was done, he could see Sarah standing in the door, back turned towards him. "Are you decent?"

"Uh, yeah..." Technically, Pastor Clarke was - although his nipples tented the fabric embarassingly.

"Great!" Sarah twirled around, a friendly smile on her face as she walked in to get the bowl of milk. "And I'm sorry about this morning. You were clearly uncomfortable, I shouldn't have been so pushy. But... you can always talk to me, alright?"

"Right..." Staring into his lap, face burning, Pastor Clarke could see the twin spots where his turgid nipples raised his shirt at the edge of his vision. "Did... did the doctor say anything about how long...?"

"Hm?" Stopping halfway back to the door, Sarah turned around to look at the pastor. "Oh, until it stops, he said. It's completely harmless, as long as you regularly milk yourself."

"Great..."

Just like last time, the pastor was able to work much better without the distracting pressure in his chest. And practically as soon as he wasn't playi-- taking care of his medical condition, Pastor Clarke's shaft relented and softened, so he could keep researching without issues. He was making good headway until the evening, when it was time to eat dinner together with Sarah. As they ate, the pastor and his housekeeper made pleasant conversation, until Pastor Clarke pulled a face as one wrong movement made his nipples brush against the fabric of his shirt.

"How are you holding up?" Sarah's smile seemed almost motherly as she grabbed the pastor's hand.

"It's... I don't know. I don't know what to think - why does the Lord test me like this?" Looking at Sarah with a pained expression, Pastor Clarke swallowed hard. "I... My faith will help me through this, but... doesn't God help those that help themselves? Shouldn't I go to the doctor myself, get this checked out in person?"

"You certainly can, but Doctor Martens said he's quite busy at the moment." Sarah was obviously feeling sympathetic as she chewed her lip. "That's why he was willing to diagnose you over the phone in the first place. It might be a while before you get an appointment..."

"Then I'll tough it out and trust in the Lord." It wasn't ideal - Pastor Clarke would have preferred some kind of medication to just make it stop, but that seemed to be out of the question. "And he really didn't say more than that I shouldn't let it build up?"

"I'm afraid not... He, uh, sounded rather frazzled."

"Oh." But that meant... "An illness making the rounds, then?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. All these rumors we keep hearing? They have to be based in something..."

"Which means it's all the more important that I'm there for my congregation."

After emptying himself for the night even though he barely felt sore yet, just to be sure, Pastor Clarke said his evening prayer and went to bed. If he did dream about anything, all was forgotten when he became fully awake - and aware of the immense, nearly debilitating pressure on his chest. Groaning, the pastor arched his back and felt thin streams of milk squirt out and soak into his pajamas; he'd kicked off the covers again.

"Nnghoooh~..." Pastor Clarke **** himself to sit, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed. "Whaa...?"

Bringing his hands up to his nipples, he could feel how stiff and swollen and dripping they were - and the small, but firm mounds rising under them. But right now, even that didn't matter. Only taking care of this soreness; Pastor Clarke was so backed up it hurt! Frenziedly pulling off his pajama top, Nicholas winced as it brushed against his painfully sensitive nipples and threw the soaked garment to the floor.

Then, the pastor brought his hands up to the tiny, A-cup tits rising on his chest and pressed against them from below, sending arcs of milk through the air until they splattered onto the hardwood floor. Nicholas didn't care. He needed to be emptied, his tits had to be milked! Pressing his hands upwards into the swell of his boobs, Pastor Clarke gasped and moaned as he felt the pressure lessen gradually, pain slowly abating and making room for pleasure, his dick long since tenting his pajama pants.

The arcs of milk just wouldn't stop! Nicholas' tits were so small, how could so much cream fit inside?! Cupping them with both hands, he pinched and pulled on his erect nipples - no longer swollen little cones, but puffy, quarter-sized areola capped by thick little nubs that squirted a triplet of white streams onto the floor as Nicholas doubled over, cock straining and drooling as his eyes fluttered closed. These sensations - they were pure bliss, orgasmic even. Groping and massaging himself as he pulled on his nipples again and again, breasts losing their firmness and becoming softer, more pliable, Nicholas could feel his shaft buzz with pleasure, balls churning in his pants.

Beginning to pant, Nicholas felt his hips rock back and forth on the edge of his bed almost without his conscious effort. He wanted to touch himself, stroke his shaft to completion and feel the other kind of lustful release his body could now grant him... but Nicholas' hands seemed glued to the small mounds on his chest, squeezing out more and more of his milk. Lucky for him, with all the soreness of his overly full breasts now finally gone, it just felt amazingly good to play with his boobs, twist the stiff nipples, press down on them... Nicholas felt himself pass the point of no return, nuts clenching as they **** their sticky contents outwards and upwa--

"Good morning! How are you feeli--oh my."

"Nuuuugh!" Hips bucking, mouth hanging slack, Nicholas felt himself explode inside his pajama pants, rope after thick rope of cum blasting into the fabric even as the last dribbles of milk sprayed from his chest.

Eyes wide, Nicholas stared at Sarah's face as his climax went on and on, mortified that she would see him reduced to this lustful state. He'd so very seldom given in to his base urges, never even been with a woman - even though his church didn't require an oath of celibacy - so Sarah had never caught or even heard him pleasure himself. And now, she saw Nicholas topless and playing with breasts he shouldn't even have, a spreading puddle of milk on the floor before him and a spreading wet spot in the crotch of his pants. But even so, Nicholas was entirely unable to stop himself from groaning or even palming his tiny breasts.

"Well. You've made quite the mess, Nicholas." Sarah chuckled as she stepped into the room with eyes full of sympathy... and... something else? Or was that just Nicholas' post-orgasmic stupor? "Are you feeling better at least?"