Ugh I wish rapid growth injections existed… giving my tits a shot of growth and lactation hormones before work and feeling them begin to swell… my milk starts to come in only an hour into my shift, making me feel right and uncomfortable. Once the buttons of my shirt start to strain I begin to regret forcing myself to deal with something so impractically horny when I’m supposed to be doing my job, but it’s too late, there’s nothing I can do but grow now.
My nipples stand hard and perky under my shirt, and the center button keeps popping open, leaving my face goes warm and red as I try to catch it and re-button it before anyone sees. I’m talking to a customer when finally the button just snaps off and my shirt pops open, revealing my breasts swelling over the cups of my bra beneath. I try to laugh it off, but I’m clearly embarrassed, stuttering through the transaction and dropping things and making mistakes.
On my break I leave to buy a new shirt, and the cashier looks me up and down judgmentally as I struggle to hold the broken front of my old one together. When I get back to work, I change in the bathroom, only to find dark veins reaching across my breasts. They bulge painfully over the tops and sides of my bra, and they’re firm to the touch. It feels damp inside, too, but I tell myself it’s sweat, afraid to check.
The new shirt I bought is two sizes bigger than I usually wear, but to my dismay—and my dripping pussy’s delight—what was meant to be a loose fit to hide my bad decision is already getting tight over my chest. I wince and squirm as the edges of my bra dig deeper and deeper into my engorged tits, and finally I have to duck back into the bathroom to take it off entirely.
I groan as I see my darkened, puffy areolae, and can’t help but tug on my needy swollen nipples, bringing them to my mouth to lick off the little beads of sweet milk that drip out. I try to towel off as best I can, making sure I’m dry for now, but without my bra my udders now hang heavy and conspicuous beneath my shirt, nipples tenting the fabric. People stare at my tits when they talk to me, and I try to remain professional even though I know they’re not hearing a word I say.
It doesn’t take long for dark speckles to form over my teats, and soon my shirt clings wetly to my breasts, trails of milk leaving stripes down my front. The new shirt stretches so thin over my aching udders that everyone can see the individual bumps on my areolae, and the milk leaves the fabric transparent enough to see my bulging dark veins.
This is when my manager finally tells me to go home, that I can consider myself suspended, pending an HR investigation. I’m so horny I hardly care. As I run out to my car, my massive breasts jiggle and bounce, their sheer volume tugging the hem of the shirt that once fell to mid-thigh so high that onlookers can see my soft tummy and the shadow of underboob. I collapse into my car and hope the sun shade covering my windshield is enough to keep prying eyes away as I peel off the shirt.
I whine as I see my obscenely engorged udders. In my haze, I barely think to set up my phone, wanting to record this for later. Then I lift one of my tits—so huge it triples my hand in size, difficult to even grip—and shove my nipple between my lips. It’s so long and thick that it feels like it fills my whole mouth, and I roll it on my tongue until I feel the let down, and squeal around the soft mass as milk bursts down my throat. I mindlessly tug on my other teat, watching milk spray all over the interior of my car.
I cum so hard and long that my over-stressed body immediately crashes, and I fall asleep in my driver’s seat with my bare udders out for everyone to see.