Bee's Story, My Story Ch. 02

"It's been about two months since my last update, and there have been a few developments!

In my last update I mentioned that I had offered to let my brother come live with me while he goes to college, and two weeks ago he moved in with me! It's been an adjustment, and it's been fun overall. I've kept the advice people have given me in the comments on my previous posts in mind, but I've still been trying not to assume that he's into me, and being careful not to push anything too hard or make him uncomfortable.

It took about three days to get him mostly settled. We went out together to get furniture for his bedroom. We established that he has to use his own PS4 controllers if he plays on my console. He's not allowed to touch my computer. And apart from those things, he can make himself as comfortable with me as he wants. He's able to access the facilities at the school he was preparing to attend later this year, and he's even switched two of his online courses to in person, so I'm relieved that he's not just home alone all day while I'm working.

It's been tense for me. It's one thing to fantasize when I'm on the opposite side of the country from him, and when I only see him a few days out of the year, but LIVING with him now that I have the fantasies? It's a lot for me. On several occasions I've zoned out during a round of Mario Party. Had to excuse myself immediately after an episode of Good Girls when the sexual tension between two characters that had been building for almost a season and a half finally came to a head. Had to bite down on something to keep from moaning while I desperately fuck myself in my bed knowing he's just on the other side of the wall. There have been two days I can recall where I've been so wet around him that I've had to change into fresh panties multiple times, and drain my breasts more often than usual.

Okay, I guess I need to explain the lactation since I forgot to do it in my earlier posts and have been getting a lot of questions about it. For a lot of my existing followers on here this will be old news, so you guys can disregard this post or whatever.

Basically, my breasts have always been incredibly sensitive. Sensitive enough that I can cum incredibly easily from almost any stimulation to them. I discovered the sensitivity late in middle school, but it wasn't until high school when my ex first made me cum by sucking on my nipples that I realized how much I could get off from it and figured out just how easily I could do it.

When I started college, I moved into my own apartment. The privacy, living on the opposite side of the country from my parents and my sometimes clingy brother, the lack of a roommate, my symptoms of hypersexuality and abnormally high libido, my coming off of a bad break up, combined with the free time I had around classes, meant I had a lot of time to play with myself, and I took full advantage of it. I almost always have my hands on my tits, playing with them, teasing my nipples. I masturbated a lot, while squeezing and kneading them, sucking them, etc.

After a few months of this, they started to ache and swell. I went from the D cups I'd had throughout high school to the F cups I have now. A huge inconvenience at the time because of how expensive good F cup bras are for a college girl (not to mention boring). And even more concerning, I started to wake up to wet spots where my nipples had touched. I made an appointment at the hospital, and experienced a very embarrassing visit where I learned that I had induced lactation through excessive stimulation.

I had no idea that was possible at the time, I legitimately thought I'd somehow gotten pregnant, in my panic I thought maybe someone had drugged and raped me in my apartment and impregnated me. Apparently dedicated and regular stimulation can convince the body that you're trying to feed, and encourage milk production. The more sensitive your breasts and nipples are, the easier and faster it is to induce. My doctor checked my breasts, ran some tests, and told me it was completely healthy, that I could keep it going if I wanted but if I wanted it to stop I'd have to tell my "partner to ease off" of my breasts during sex. Basically I'd have to stop playing with myself if I wanted to stop lactating.

At first I thought I wanted to stop, but I realized it wasn't a huge inconvenience, I liked the way it made my breasts look, fuller, perkier (not that they weren't already full and perky), my areola went from ghost nipples that blended in with my skin, to more of the light pink you'd expect on a pale white girl. And good luck getting me to stop playing with myself with my sexual appetite. So needless to say I never stopped, it's been almost three years I believe at this point, milking every night before bed.

I've found that in person, guys are quick to express distaste for breast milk, I've been turned down a lot and made to be pretty self conscious about it. I've been single and abstinent pretty much the entire time I've been lactating. Never had someone feed from me, despite my intense desires to do so. And lactating for this long without feeding someone has also made my hormones go a little nuts, making me want to be pregnant and such. It's a dangerous combination with how horny I get.

So there. That's why I'm lactating.

------------

At first, I noticed that he was wearing a shirt and pajama pants to bed, or at least around me when we'd get ready for bed. I know I usually sleep in just panties and a tank top, and thought maybe he wasn't comfortable dressing down in front of me yet, and I realized I also wasn't at that stage. So the weekend after he moved in, I took the brave first step and I left my bedroom in just the tank top I'd slept in and clean panties (boy short style, nothing TOO revealing). I was up before him, so I decided to play some Cuphead until he was ready to leave his room.

He ended up going straight to the bathroom to shower, which left me sitting there long enough to start wondering if I was making a mistake. Before I was able to talk myself into at least a pair of shorts, I covered my lap with a blanket, and he dressed and joined me in the living room. I said "good morning" and he returned the sentiment, and even though I was looking at the screen, I could see the subtle double take he did before turning his attention to the game. He didn't sit next to me on my couch like he had been previously, instead choosing to sit on the standalone armchair, giving me a wide berth.

We made idle chit chat but I was both genuinely into the game, and on edge because something about him being fully dressed made me feel as though I was completely naked. The sensation gave me goosebumps, and I could feel my nipples coming to attention. Eventually the game demanded more of my attention, the King Dice encounter can be particularly grueling and intense, and I started to get stressed and frustrated, mashing buttons harder and recoiling every time I got hit, jerking the controller in whatever direction I was trying to dash toward. After a game over, while chilling out on the map, I realized he was watching me. I remembered how hard my nipples were, and started another attempt at the boss, this time fully aware that his attention was on me. As I played, I realized just how much I was moving, and maybe the realization made me hypersensitive to my every movement but I could feel my breasts swaying against each other, bumping against my arms, and quaking as I mashed the buttons. Obviously I was too distracted to play, so instead I just paused the game and said I needed a break.

Acting as if I didn't notice him watching me, I stood up as nonchalantly as possibly, removing the blanket from my lap, and uncovering everything. I yawned, and stretched, reaching my arms up and arching my back, pushing my chest out. I was laying it on thick, but I really did need the stretch. Then I walked past him toward the kitchen, contemplating letting my hip rub against his arm as I passed. I didn't, but I did walk closer than necessary. I tried my best to stay eyes forward, so I didn't see his reaction, but I could FEEL mine. My chest and face must have been incredibly red with how hot I felt from the rush of doing this. I opened the fridge and asked if he was hungry.

I don't even know if he heard me because he just responded with "Uhhhh, hey, you know you're not wearing pants right?"

I closed the fridge and turned back toward him, wondering if the cold was making my nipples even more prominent against the baby blue tank top. "Hm? Oh. Yeah. Is that a problem?" I replied, sounding as unperturbed as possible.

He turned around to face me over the back of the chair and mulled it over for a bit. "I- I guess not? I was just making sure that was okay with you."

I sat up on the counter next to the fridge and rested my palms by my hips, sitting up straight. "When I said you could make yourself comfortable, this is kind of what I meant. This is what I'd be wearing most of the time around my house anyway, sometimes maybe even less. If we're going to be living together, I don't want either of us to feel like we can't be ourselves, and like we can't live comfortably. But... if this makes you uncomfortable, I can put on some pants. Please don't make me wear a bra in my own home though."

He laughed awkwardly at the last comment and I saw his eyes dart down to my chest for a quick moment before snapping back to my eyes. "No, it's okay! I just- I wasn't expecting that. I'm cool with it if you are, it's your home."

"Yeah, but I want it to be yours too." I replied softly. He just kind of nodded and stayed silent, and it felt like he was actively trying not to look at me as he thought about whatever was going on in his head. When I couldn't stand the silence any longer I repeated my question asking if he was hungry, and it cleared the tension I was feeling. I spent the rest of the day trying my best to be as casual as possible. I realized that the way I was dressed was enough of a shock, and I didn't want to add any sort of teasing on top of it and risk making him really uncomfortable. So no bending over, or reaching for the top cupboards or anything like that. I kept my legs together, and often covered by the blanket, but I was still incredibly turned on and went to bed about a half hour earlier than usual just so I could take care of myself while he was still up and watching things that could mask the sound enough to keep me from being paranoid.

------------

The next morning I got up a little early, I text him to see if he was awake in his room and see if he wanted to go out and about with me, and when he hadn't answered by the time I had gotten dressed and put on makeup, I decided to go see if I could wake him. I didn't even think to knock, I just came in, the only time I've done that so far. He was sprawled out on his bed, barely covered by his sheets (turns out he actually DOES sleep in a shirt and pajama pants and wasn't just being modest around me) but still it was impossible not to notice he was rock hard. As if I needed the reminder of how well endowed he is, the tent in his pants was intimidating, intoxicating. The tip was threatening to burst through the button fly on the pants, held back only by whatever underwear he had on.

I was three feet from it and unable to tell if I could actually see it throbbing or if that was my own pulse racing in my temples. I forgot what I had come in for, decided not to wake him, and instead left to go get myself some fresh air and enjoy the morning to myself, to try and clear my mind. But fuck, that image is seared into my mind.

------------

A few nights later I got a little brave. I wanted to take my bath, and I desperately needed to milk, so I left my bedroom door open by like a foot, and my bathroom door completely open while I bathed. He was in the living room the whole time as far as I could tell, I'm not even sure if he noticed my door open, but the thrill drove me fucking wild. While I expressed in the bath and listened to the gentle arcs of milk sprinkle onto the bath water, I wondered if he could hear it at all. Between the thought of that and the pleasure that comes with the attention to my breasts, I was cumming in no time. I had a small orgasm and couldn't help searching between my legs for a bigger one. But before I could find it, I caught myself whimpering a little louder than anticipated, and disturbing the water too much and eased off, deciding instead to finish bathing and rejoin him in the living room.

That evening was possibly the worst it's been, having denied myself the orgasm I wanted, I couldn't stand the thought of just being around him in panties. I wore a comfortable sports bra under my top, and yoga pants instead that night. That was the first night I had to change multiple times.

------------

And then came Friday. I was home early from work, and feeling kind of- I don't know, domestic? He got home from his classes and I was already pulling a batch of cookies from the oven. He got comfortable while they cooled a little, and I let him have the first taste. While he sat at the kitchen table and ate that first cookie, complimenting my baking, he asked if I could pour him a glass of milk. I grabbed a mug from the cupboard and opened the fridge, only to realize we were out of milk. "Aw shit..." I sighed, disappointed that I hadn't noticed to grab some before I started baking.

"What's up? Are we out?" He asked, barely waiting until he'd swallowed his last bite.

"Yup," and then a tingling sensation hit me and a thought crossed my mind and reached my lips before I could even process it "...unless you want some of mine?" I was still facing the fridge, staring at the light in it, I felt my face grow incredibly hot and my eyes go wide. Did I really just fucking say that?

He took a second, "What?" I turned to face him and couldn't tell if he had actually heard me or if the question was genuine. I chickened out of the conversation my body clearly wanted to have and instead responded with "oh, uh... I said... 'unless you want me to order some?'" He kind of looked at me weird for a second and expressed that I didn't have to do that, but I was already half done with placing a postmates order at that point so it was too late. I excused myself and went to my bedroom to calm myself and breathe slowly, and my head was flooded with thoughts of how that conversation might have played out if I'd just been a little more brave. It was as if my body knew what I'd maybe almost done, because my production increased for the next day and I had to milk twice as much. That was the 2nd day I had to change multiple times.

------------

So that's how it's been for me so far having my younger brother live with me. It's had me on edge, I've been turned on almost constantly, and I still can't really read how he's feeling. He's been the sweetest, and I've loved having the company, so far it hasn't really cramped my style at all other than having to close my bedroom door a little more and not getting to be completely topless around the house. I don't remember every little moment or thought I've had so far, but these ones I've shared are the notable ones I had sitting in my notes app on my phone for when I was able to update again.

At times I literally feel like I'm dying from the ache for sex. I've had intrusive thoughts about everything from being bred, to sitting on someone's face, and it's been a hell of a couple of weeks for me."