Bamazon Pump's Home Milking Device

'Bamazon pump! The hit new product sweeping the nation! As easy as one, two and go!'

The upbeat voice on the commercial carried on over images of smiling women going for jogs and reading on couches.

'Join the millions of women already becoming their own self-employed worker! Visit the Bamazon website today to order your own induction pill and pump! Each package comes with a set of instructions detailing how you can begin selling your own breast milk from the comfort of your own home!'

The ad transitioned into interviews with other women. A busty blonde woman in a tight dress told her story to the camera with a toothy smile.

'My milk is sent to Africa to feed starving children! You too could be helping to change the world!'

It was that lazy afternoon as Hayley lay on the couch watching tv that she finally made the choice. She had heard about the bamazon pump a few months after it officially launched. She honestly thought it was a joke that wouldn't last long. Then it did. Suddenly she started hearing more and more online about women quitting their jobs to live off their breast milk earnings. Every hard day at work made her consider it, but she never felt comfortable with the idea. Though it was always a weakening thread worn away at each time.

She grabbed her phone and looked up the website, spending the next few minutes reading every little bit of the site. She then went on to search for more info on it. Forums. Articles. What she was watching on tv now lay forgotten.

No matter how much she searched, she didn't find any overly negative reviews. In fact, most people seemed pretty positive about it. The more she read, the more her hesitation eased. Maybe she had been wrong about it. She could always use some more money on the side. Though she still felt some apprehension toward the whole thing. What if everyone found out what she was doing? She'd have to keep it very private.

She stood up from the couch and headed to her room. Her apartment was small. Not many hiding places. But the pumps shouldn't be that big. Maybe she could get away with just hiding them under a pile of clothes.

She paced back and forth, spending the next hour being indecisive. Finally, she said enough and hit order on the website. If she didn't like it, she could just make back the cost of buying it and then chuck it. No loss.

The little Bamazon drone docked by the window whirred to life and flew off. She sat back on the couch to try and ease the concern in her mind. No point worrying until the package arrived.

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It was late afternoon when she heard the whirring drone re-dock itself. She ran over to grab the package. The pumps were smaller than she thought. Clear, sleek plastic with a bottle attached to each end. There were also plastic tubes, a pill in a plastic pouch, and a QR code. She scanned the code first.

It brought up a digital manual on her phone. It thanked her for buying the product and explained what everything was and how to use them. There she learned that she could detach the bottles from the pumps and insert the tubes between the two for more space. It also explained that the pill would induce lactation, but it warned not to take more than one in a three-month period for safety reasons. It ensured her that regular pumping would keep her milk flowing once started.

It all seemed so surreal to be reading the words 'induce lactation' on something she was about to do. Once more she felt apprehension about the whole thing. She was never good at making big decisions. She picked up the pill's package and took it into the kitchen. A quick jab from a knife opened it up. Then the pill was sitting in her hand.

'Just think of the extra money.'

She put the pill into her mouth and gulped it down with some water before she could lose her nerve again. There, it was done. Now she just had to wait.

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She woke up in the dark. It was still hours before her alarm would go off for work. The neon lights of the city leaked in through the cracks in her curtain. She groaned and rolled over. As she did, she felt an uncomfortable feeling in her breasts. She rubbed them through her shirt. They were sensitive. As she rubbed over them, she felt a wet patch form

Suddenly alert, she sat up and turned on the light. Small, wet patches formed around her nipples. Her stomach did a flip at the sight. She couldn't tell if it was from excitement or fear. She pulled her shirt off.

The first thing she noticed was that her breasts looked bigger. At least by one cup size. Her nipples were erect and glistening. A small, white bead of liquid hung onto the end of her right one. She wiped it away with her finger only to jump at the touch. Her nipples were really sensitive.

Her touch seemed to have made another droplet form in the place of the previous one. Throwing caution to the wind, she grabbed her breast and squeezed. Nothing came out, but they certainly felt fuller. The more she squeezed it, the fuller it felt. She was met with a strange urge to release the pressure inside it.

Deciding that it was a better time than any, she pulled herself out of bed and searched for her pumps. She followed the instructions and placed them over each areola. She switched them and let out a gasp as they sucked on tightly. They rhythmically worked, pulling on each breast. It felt kind of nice. She hated to admit that it was making her wet.

The beads of milk leaked from her nipple, staining the inside of the cups. Finally, she felt a dam break and a solid jet of milk squirted from her nipples. She moaned as the pressure was released. The bottles at the end of the pumps began to fill up ever so slowly, but it didn't matter how little there was, she was excited to see any milk what so ever. It made her a little proud to see what her body could do.

As quickly as it had started, her milk stopped. She turned off the pumps and released her breasts. They felt lighter now, though her nipples were a little sore. She unclipped the bottles of milk and studied them. There was only a fingernail's depth of milk in each, but she still felt proud to have produced that much on her first night. But now she was exhausted.

She took the bottles to the fridge before collapsing back into bed.

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Her alarm startled her awake the next morning. She groggily rose and began getting ready for work. As she opened the fridge for breakfast, she was reminded of her milk bottles from the previous night. She pulled them out and re-opened the manual on her phone.

'Hmmm... here, selling.'

She read over that section of the manual. All she had to do was give her bottles to the drone. Their barcodes had the address on them. Her drone would return later with two new bottles for her to use.

She shrugged and placed the bottles in the drone's dock. It beeped and whirred up, picking up the bottles and flying off into the city.

'Seems easy enough...'

The day rolled on like any other. Hours later, she sat down out the back of the café, finally taking her break. Another exhausting shift.

Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out. It was her bank app. Notice of a deposit. Her eyes widened as she opened it. $20 from Bamazon Pump. $20?! The pumps had only cost $500. She'd make the money back in no time. But more to the point, that was more money than she'd thought she'd make from this, and she'd only produced a tiny amount of milk. How much could she make with a full bottle?

She was suddenly excited to try again tonight. Her breasts were already starting to feel full.

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That night she got home, showered, and then set up on her bed to try the pumps once more. Her breasts had that same pressure in them from the previous night. She was excited to feel the pleasure of that release again.

She attached the pumps over her breasts and turned it on.

'Mmmm...'

It felt great. It was like all the stresses of the day were being sucked out with the milk. It didn't take as long this time for her milk to start squirting out. This time she let her hand explore between her legs. She was growing wet again. The rhythmic pull on her breasts was scratching an itch she never knew she had. A pleasurable itch. An itch that cascaded down to her nether regions in the same pulsing beats.

It took longer for the pumps to finish pulling all the milk from her than last time, but eventually she ran dry. She pulled the cups from her breasts, noting a red ring left behind from the suction. Her nipples were sore again, but they had healed up just fine after her last pumping.

The true surprise was in the bottles. Each were fuller this time. Still a long way off the top, but at least a quarter full this time. Without even putting her shirt back on, she hurried to the kitchen.

She put the bottles into the drone and watched it fly away. She was jittery with excitement to see how much she would earn from her milk this time. This was easy money!

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A week went by as she fell into the rhythm of pumping. She would go to work each day and feel her breasts swell up and grow heavy. The moment she'd come home, she'd throw off her shirt and attach the pumps. With each pumping, the amount that she produced increased. Soon she was almost completely filling the bottles with her milk. The payments, though amazing at the time for such little work, had started relatively small. Now she was really making money from it.

She was making almost $150 a day just from her milk. She was earning as much from her pumping as her waitress job. It filled her with excitement every time she saw a deposit from Bamazon Pump in her bank details. She had no idea where all her milk was going. She didn't care. The money was her main driving force. For all she knew, her milk could be sold on a shelf at her grocery store.

She sat out the back of work once more on break. She tried to adjust her bra into a more comfortable spot. She was once a B cup. Now she was a D. She had to buy a new bra to accommodate their increasing size. She had never experienced so much boob filling up her shirt. However, a new problem had arisen in the last few days.

Her nipples were sore far too often. Either sore from being pumped or tender from the need to be pumped. The increase in her breast size had made working harder too. They were always in the way or bouncing too much as she rushed about. Every time they got in the way, she was also reminded of the growing pressure inside and of how much she wanted to get home and put the pumps on.

And thoughts like that would lead into the next problem. Sometimes after a long day, or if she thought too much about the feeling of pumping, she would find her nipples leaking. There were many times where she would have to excuse herself to the bathroom to clean up. She would have to pad her bra with toilet paper to catch it before it could stain her work shirt. But it leaked through the paper far too quickly.

As she sat outside, she fidgeted with her bra once more and opened the app for her bank account. This whole pumping thing had started on a whim to make some more money, but now it was starting to make her actual work harder. Yet as she looked over her bank statements and how much she was making per day from pumping, she could only conclude that it was her work that was getting in the way of her pumping. To think that she could be home with her pumps on right now instead of exhausted at work.

She sighed and stood back up to head back to work.

'Ah, you're back. Good. Take this to table 5.'

Her boss pushed plates into her hand and sent her off. She hurried over to the table and put the plates down in front of the customers. But as she did she caught sight of her shirt. A wet patch was forming on her breast. Shit! She was leaking at the worst possible time.

She wished the customers a good meal and quickly raced toward the back of the café, doing her best to hide her chest. This was so embarrassing! People would ask questions if they saw her leaking like this. Were her co-workers even aware of women pumping their breast milk on the side? Would they think she was some kind of pervert for doing so?

She ducked into the bathroom to try and dry her shirt. All of this was too much stress. She just wanted to be at home, pumping right now. She was over this job. She stared into the mirror at the sight of her milk leaking through her shirt. Even if she wanted to continue at this job, she didn't know if she could look everyone in the eye anymore knowing that they may have seen, or would see in the future, the sight of her milk stains.

She chose instead to splash water on her shirt until it was all wet and go talk to her boss. After today there would be no more stress from her double life. Starting tomorrow, she would make pumping her full time work.

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She found the life of pumping to her liking.

She would wake up, roll out of bed and attach the pumps as she made breakfast. She felt so talented whenever she was multitasking with the pumps. It felt right having them on. She was beginning to understand some of the glowing praise she had read online about pumping your own milk for a living.

After breakfast, she would finish up her milking and send the bottles off on the drone. Her morning pumping was always heavier than her afternoon one. She made more milk in her sleep than during the day. She would then spend the day doing whatever she wanted. Watching tv. Reading. Exercising. Maybe going shopping. Her breast growth had slowed down, but she still felt like she always needed a new wardrobe to match her more buxom figure.

Though she rarely wore the things she bought. After her morning pumping, she found her nipples far too tender to put a shirt back on, so she often just walked around topless. In the afternoon, as she felt her breasts growing heavy again, she would put the pumps back on and milk some more revenue. She often masturbated while pumping. She couldn't help it. The sensation of having her milk pulled from her swollen breasts made her so wet. Many pumping sessions ended with her splayed out, naked on the floor with the pumps hanging from her tits and a vibrator pressed against her clit.

One night when lazing on the couch, browsing a pumping forum, she came across a thread recommending a special kind of vibrator. It wasn't specifically for masturbating, but one that you could wear under clothes. The other girls in the thread swore that using it daily had increased their milk output.

She snorted in derision, sceptical that it could work. Yet curiosity led her to continue reading. One comment caught her eye. They explained how sexual stimulation made her breasts leak, so a constant stream of that would cause their breasts to produce more milk, similar to how chewing gum causes stomach acid to build up. They even linked to a report on how this vibrator stimulated closer to the womb, where it could encourage a woman's breastfeeding response.

Hayley wasn't sure how accurate this all was, but the pictures of before and after bottles of milk was enough to convince her to give it a try. The vibrator was at the top of her recommended buy list after her profile tracked her visit to that thread. She ordered one and her drone whirred up and flew off.

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The next morning, she woke, got out of bed, and attached her breast pump. The gentle thrumming of the pump soothed her as she headed out to the kitchen. She rubbed her eyes and spotted the drone docked at its station. A package sat underneath it.

She hurried over and opened it. Inside was a very small, but weirdly shaped vibrator. It had a cable running from its base to a leg strap with a few settings on it. She wasted no time stepping out of her panties and inserting it. The QR code instructions said to put it as deep inside you as you could. She pushed it up until she felt it brush against her cervix. She wondered if it would slip out given how small it was.

She put on the leg strap and went to look at herself in the mirror. She couldn't help but grin at the sight of her. Pumps attached to her D cup sized breasts, her nipples pulling in and out of the end, and now a cable leading from her thigh and disappearing into her pussy. Just like wearing a uniform for her last job, this was the uniform for this job.

She turned the vibrator on and found an answer to her question from before. She could feel it expanding inside her like a balloon. It held a specific shape as it expanded, one that dug gently into the walls of her pussy like supports. It surprisingly didn't hurt. She tried jumping about and shaking her hips, but it didn't budge. Then, suddenly, she felt a jolt run up her body as a pulse from the vibrator tickled her cervix. That felt good. Really good. The pulses continued, making her pumping feel even better.

She retreated back to her bedroom, settling in for a morning masturbation with her new vibrator.

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She left the vibrator in every waking hour. To her surprise, it did seem like her milk production increased. Though she wasn't sure if it was just all in her head. Regardless, the vibrator felt nice to have in, so she kept it.

The only issue was when she had to head out.

Christmas was coming up, so she decided to go buy some new clothes for the day. She ordered all her groceries for delivery with her drone, but when it came to clothes shopping, she preferred the old fashioned way. The feel of the material and seeing it on her rather than a mannequin couldn't be replaced by online shopping.

She rode the elevator down from her apartment and headed out onto the chilly streets. Her vibrator gave a pulse, causing her to gasp. She suddenly realised that she wasn't in the privacy of her home anymore. It had become second nature to have it in that she didn't even think to take it out when she left. She debated going back to remove it, but a part of her was convinced that she'd lose out on some ounces of milk. She was earning so much from her milk now, taking it out would be the difference between being able to buy up market or not.

She gritted her teeth and continued on, feeling her pussy grow wetter at her boldness.

Thankfully it was a short walk to the shops. She stepped inside and headed for the women's section. Every step felt like it laboured on her vibrator. She hadn't noticed it as much when she was walking around her small apartment, but now it was front and centre in her mind.

Her heart was pounding. She had to make this a quick shop. She began looking through the racks. She grabbed the first thing that looked good and headed for the changing rooms.

Once inside, she stripped her clothes off. Her pussy looked incredibly flushed in the mirror, to the point of her lips looking swollen from the constant vibrations. She hadn't worn panties since getting the vibrator. They grew uncomfortable being wet all day. However, she wished she was today as the sight of her engorged lips made her realise the insurmountable odds she was working against. How was she to keep her mind clear when the vibrator had already wracked her body this much?

Beads of milk formed at her nipples, desperate to join in the fun. She had to wipe them away, cursing the money going to waste with each drop lost. She refocused herself.

'A quick shop and then I can go home.'

She grabbed the dress and pulled it over her head. The vibrator pulsed. Her nipples rubbed against the fabric. They were so sensitive. Dammit, she would be getting milk all over this.

She pulled it off back over her head, but was caught again at the sight of herself. Naked in a changing room, a cable leading from a thigh strap up into her pussy as a vibrator toyed away at her insides. She felt so risqué. The situation was making her too horny. She threw her old clothes back on and exited the changing room.