LAN Party (complete)

But they didn't have hours. They had minutes. Hell, the party could show up at any moment. They'd gone on long enough and fun needed dispelling for the sake of the practical.

With the help of a shoulder and guiding arm, the offerer of an endless milky supply lighted to the cement floor. Measuring with the eye was so much easier when Odette was standing up straight. Her right breast's lowest slope eclipsed her body, down to the middle of her thigh. Still glutted with creamy goodness, her skin retained a tugged, taut optic. The lowering motion caused an audible swishing; deeper in tone than water and babbling like an upset stomach. Constant trickling created a small puddle at the apex of her watermelon shaped breast which happened to stand nearly three feet in front of her.

The bullet the trio dodged would have been a doozy. Any more growth might have spiralled Odette's production into irreparable cycles of lactic craziness. They were barely one growth spurt away from total chaos!

Those were all observations made of the right breast. The left remained occupied. During the move, Janet remained faithfully attached, scooching back on her plump ass, grasping Odette's immensities with childish greed to remain as flush to the source of her plumping belly as possible.

"I guess she can. . . stay," Pari sighed. She might have acted on her own avarice, but gathering containers with her own belly full of warmth liquid had sapped much of her energy. She was simply too lethargic to pry Janet away and hoped that mollifying the most hyperactive producers of milk in the world might limit the overall damage done.

If she could make Odette stop before Janet popped it would be an accomplishment.

"Alright, sweetheart," Pari implored. "Let's milk you down. You know the deal, we're doing this the old fashioned way."

Odette arched her neck upward, and touched Pari's hair with her nose as she sighed. "Fine, party pooper."

Pari slid into position with her head over Odette's right shoulder, delaying her reply to the cutesy name calling. Her arms came under the blonde's, then started in small circles at the roots of the twin milk tankers. "That's right, I'm the party pooper. Now center yourself on your breathing before I kick Janet off your big, beautiful boobies."

"They're big and beautiful, are they? You mean it?" Odette said. It almost sounded like she was making a guess at an unknowable conundrum.

Pari felt just right whispering her answer down with fullness of heart. "Of course they are―every part of you is beautiful, Odette." It was enchanting how a woman so obviously attractive could be so genuinely puzzled by her own irresistibility.

"You're saying that because your tummy is full," she whispered back.

"I'm saying it because. . ." Pari lost the perfect word just before it was said. Heart screaming inside of her with the most honest―and most truthful―phrase, the eldest woman skidded to a halt to edit the emotions. "You're the most important person in my life. And because it's the truth."

Good phrase, Pari coached herself inwardly. It was open and vague and could mean any host of things. It was up to Odette to determine what it meant―if it meant anything at all.

Pari hoped it did mean something. Her spirit felt tight as a bow string; wishing that her murky declaration of value meant something. It would rob the milking of all the pleasure if their feelings weren't mutual.

Feelings hadn't mattered to Pari, not enough to warrant mentioning. When Pari began her work as Odette's caretaker, her feelings about her science―and most other things work related―weren't affected by her feelings. They couldn't afford to be, not if she cared about the scientific method. But swiftly, they became a regular component. Then, a key characteristic. Then, her feelings were a vital fixture. If they weren't in her daily duties―her duties as a caretaker, scientist, doctor, and friend―her entire day stood to be worse.

It became wrong to face Odette without a gentle, caring touch. Her heart wouldn't allow such a sin. She couldn't parse out her objectiveness like she used to―even, in some cases, when it would have been more desirable to. Those cases were scant, though. Most times, Pari found that being emotionally invested made the bad times good and the good times great.

That's what she wished most―that Odette's emotions matched her own; that they made every second spent together better than it would have been otherwise.

But her wish did not have to stand alone. Her efforts and skill could bolster her case why she deserved to be first―or only―in Odette's heart. She caressed with such intention and grace. Fingers and nails left pleasure in their wakes. Her palms added context and respite from the intensity.

"That's amazing," Odette said on a gasp. Whether or not she referred to the massage job or Pari's confession was unclear.

Either one sent butterflies through Pari, inspiring the adventurous side of her. Experienced at Odette's mammoth mammaries, she reacclimated herself with their smooth skin, their warm depth, and to the surrounding muscle tissue. The fun of it surprised her. Even if she understood the deep tissue massage in her head, it was something else entirely to feel the body beneath her, to reach to the farthest bounds and squeeze till tit flesh swallowed up her hands.

"Think about something else. Let's talk some. Helps you breathe when you hold conversation―"

A wail pierced the air. Janet, the source of a sugar coated moan of delight, had probably reached an orgasm from the sensuality of the moment. Her perspective was lower so Odette's moonish gourds being jiggled and massaged were the only things in her entire field of view. Combine that with yummy milk and the act of tweaking her own leaky nipples and you had the ingredients for an amazing climax.

Unfortunately, it worked contrary to Pari's efforts to steer clear of horniness.

Janet had an honest, airy sort of groan when she released. The rich sexuality in it electrified the air. Tension mounted and Pari felt Odette's muscles catching as the smaller girl resisted an excitement brought on by hearing her friend's rapturous release.

"Sh-she's rolling my nipple around i-in her mouth―between her teeth, I-I. . ." the blonde's jaw went slack. Her head went heavy under a rubber neck as she tilted her lips toward Pari's neck in a plea for sexual relief.

Worse yet, Pari knew Odette wasn't grasping the situation. She couldn't give her the sexual satisfaction her body now craved, not because it wouldn't be spectacular after having spent close to twenty minutes drinking, groping, and flirting, but because the climax would just make Odette even larger, prolonging the process of true, body-wide release that would come from being milked to emptiness.

"Breathe," Pari said sternly. Her hands slowed as not to multiply the wave of pleasure now seizing her beloved. "Listen to me Odette, and just breathe. In, hold it, then out. In, hold, out."

It took so much effort. Sweat, from the strenuous quality of resisting sexual nature and from obvious sexual frustration, beaded Odette's forehead. Her boobs did gargle some but Pari didn't feel them stretching further forward. About sixty seconds later, the blonde went near completely limp in her friend's arms, wearing a dopey grin. She'd done it―held back her own expansion.

"You're so strong," Pari whispered as she petted Odette's cheek. "Good girl."

Panting into her steady breath, the center of the narrowly-avoided milky fiasco said, "Filling in as leader of a raid party is so much easier than that was."

Pari took that to mean that at least two-thirds of the participating parties were in agreement.

Having won the greatest battle already, the rest became easy―easy like milking titties that were nearly three feet away from their owner. Once warmed up, the woman with bronze skin and sharp eyes used long strokes and firm squeezes toward emptying her porcelain friend. She alternated as best as possible, flattening, bulging, and otherwise reshaping one stuffed boob and then the other. The wash bin below filled rapidly. It actually overflowed long before Odette finished being milked. It would take three full basins―five gallons per plastic tub―to work down the enlarged beasts to a size that didn't obscure all of Odette's torso.

The cream that didn't make it to a holding container made it down Janet's throat and into her portly little tummy.

As a novice running fully on zeal to drink from her milk producing friend, Janet gorged without pacing herself. Pari would instruct her on the art of taking her time in the future, but for the session she managed to stomach a remarkable six or so gallons, which was not only enough to give her a beautiful, peach-toned paunch but also a peculiarity that needed scientific verification. Pari turned off the part of her brain that was curious, though, once she realized the worst of Janet's physiological damage was a tummy ache and a smile that seemed to glow three times brighter than normal.

The ordeal was messy. Even with full containers, milk was spilled on the concrete floor. The air was thick with sweetness and the dim lighting reflected any moisture in dim, moody lighting. Janet lay on her side, lips glistening, eyes closed, hand moving in circles over a gut that stretched about thirteen inches before her. Her own breasts looked less full but still just as massive, indicating that she'd gone through a smaller version of what Odette had; lactating and expelling several ounces of milk only to have them restored to her by increased production in the moment. This left her full but not taut, prominently endowed without the added bulkiness.

If only the same could be said for her tummy.

Pari sat on the small set of stairs leading up to the ground floor of the house. Her nerves were raw. The experience had tested her ability to deal with stress which should have been easy for her. The attachment, she concluded. She was emotionally connected which raised the stakes. A nameless patient on an operating table or numbers and graphs in a peer-reviewed journal: those had no heart in them. Dealings with Odette were about as deep a feeling as she knew she could have.

It had absolutely tuckered her. It had also filled her with more satisfaction than any other job ever had―quite new for a woman devoted since birth to the pursuit of knowledge in scientific fields.

Before too long, Odette joined her on the steps. Prior to reclining, the amber eyed girl looked listlessly for room to sit. Unfortunately, the lion's share of space belonged to Pari's fattened ass, deepened hips, and plumped thighs. Any normal person would have leaned on a wall or sat on the floor nearby, but Odette tumbled into Pari face first without a warning, prompting the bushy haired brunette to truss her up with snappy reaction time.

They were both more than tired, though, so it was less of an acrobat being wrapped in a safety net and more of two ragdolls being thrown at each other. Maneuvering was a necessity. After they dislodged their soft curves and detangled their bodies, the blonde slid to the step below Pari's and took up the space between spread thighs facing the garage. Had Pari's belly been composed of something flabbier, it would have forced the blonde forward but its tautness was comprised entirely of sweet, milky stuffing which kept it suspended high enough for clearance underneath.

Odette laid a head on the flesh which ejected in vast amounts from the corpse of Pari's shredded shorts; put arms around a long calf muscle and snuggled herself against it. "Should we go back?" she asked.

"Only if you're feeling up to it." The elder woman recalled all the events of the day and synthesized them to action. "Actually, you're still the boss. You should decide what you ought to do."

"Good answer," the younger gave Pari's knee a few claps. "I'll take a five minute break then relieve the troops."

"How's production?"

Odette adjusted even closer. Pari felt tingles at the base of her spine that shot up her body when a brush of soft, moist flesh passed against her leg. Though she couldn't see, she remembered how large Odette was when they had to call it quits. Every person involved was too tired to keep going as sensual milk massages were exertive. But all in all, two or so cup sizes larger than her original size wouldn't―or shouldn't―be too noticeable. And, since Odette didn't drink, she wouldn't have to hide her belly from her friends.

As for Janet and Pari? Well, that was a different story.

"They're still overproducing to compensate for the milking. I can already tell that much. There'll need to be more calories or I'm going to just crash from lack of energy." Odette stated, sounding objective even as she slid her cream-slicked H cups up and down Pari's shin.

The brunette's muscles tightened. She tried to ignore her desire for more which contradicted the dearth of energy but failed hard. Telling herself 'no' was one thing. Denying that there was a fire in her loins and having Odette so close, so topless, and so milky was another.

"Then I'll stay close. You'll need to be milked again every so often so you don't expand and look weird to your friends," Pari said.

"I don't think they'd notice too much. They're supposed to be focused on the raid―"

"Trust me. They'll notice." Pari had Theo on her mind. For all his practice avoiding eye contact, he couldn't avoid looking at Odette when there was any amount of cleavage showing. For the record, few people could. "So if you would be so kind as to take a break every hour or so to let your loyal guildmate milk you, oh great ArchWitch OJ Holiday. . ."

Odette giggled, cuddling closer, breasts trapped tight yet smooth in a pressured vice that no doubt was pleasurable to the squeezer and the squeeze-ee. She stopped, though, mid-titty grind. "Sure. Each hour. But I'm an Archmage, not an ArchWitch. There's no such thing as ArchWitches―there's no set hierarchy for the Witch class. Tell me you're just joking."

Pari blinked slow. "I'm, uh, just joking?" Odette sprang to her feet and threw her lightly clenched fists on her barely-there hips. "No wait! Don't go! It was an honest mistake―"

"Well, seems like I ought to head back upstairs and slay Skack Jellington, King of the Pumpkin Patch! He drops special orange items and gear which would totally match my whole color scheme." The blonde wiggled her hips a little and bounced up the staircase, careful to land in the tiny dots of open space between Pari's limbs and rotund body.

Pari's disappointment of losing snuggles over a small detail in ForeverAge 2 was fleeting. It was better that Odette was happy, energetic, and not burdened by her tits anymore. She couldn't hope for more than that; she would have been content with exactly what had happened.

But she felt a warm, soft presence against her cheek that smelled sweet like hot cocoa and glowed like home. When she tilted her head up, she saw Odette's head upside down and a thousand watt grin.

"Thanks again," thanked the blonde with a kiss and a wink. "See you in an hour."

It was easy to relax after that. The door closed above and Pari sank into her seat, allowing herself a few minutes of quiet meditation.

About twenty minutes later, Janet blinked awake. She realized the chill of the space, being topless and in tights on a concrete floor. As if she needed a minute to boot up, it dawned on her what had taken place and forced an attempt at sitting up. She couldn't stay splayed out on the floor, making milk bubbles in her sleep, stroking her body like some drunken slob.

But she had to. Her muscles wouldn't drum up enough strength to move her. They were utterly useless to her. She could roll around like a blood-filled tick but going upright required abdominal strength she lacked. In fact, she had the opposite, which was a belly that sloshed noisily around with her mad attempts at salvaging even a shred of decency.

The young girl was verging on tears when she felt a gentle hand craning her upward. Before she knew much else, Pari was grinning with comfort down at her and her balance was set upright again. Even sitting on her knees she felt like an inflatable dummy toy for kids: one small push would have been enough to send her reeling.

"Morning, Janet. How'd you sleep?" Pari asked.

The Japanese girl felt a blush on her neck, crawling up to her cheeks and ears like spreading lava. "Great. I-It was a good nap."

"Right? Sleeping with a belly full of Odette's milk is the best. I have insomnia sometimes and it disappears when I drink a ton of that stuff. If it could be bottled and sold―"

Pari realized she'd gone a little far. Janet was sullen with folded hands unable to reach her lap for the big peachy globe now occupying the space.

"Listen, Janet. I'm really thankful for how you stepped in and helped Odette today. These types of episodes are rare but you happened to be just what she needed. As her doctor and her friend, thank you."

Janet perked up. "Oh, no problem. Odette has done all sorts of things for me. The least I could do was help in any small way."

"Your 'small way' was pretty monumental," Pari pointed with an open palm. "As is evident by your 'small' protrusion there."

Janet started to stroke herself again. Realizing she was doing so openly and with an audience brought her pause quickly after, though. "I-I just did what I hope someone will do for me one day."

"Do for you?" Pari tilted her head, pondered the words.

"Yea," Janet's emotions were so subtle and fleeting behind her shame.

But Pari read them deftly and came near. "I've been meaning to ask you a lot of questions, Janet. Ever since you started lactating and growing, I've wanted to make sure you were coping okay. But you seemed a little distant―you still keep your distance. Is there a reason why?"

Almost imperceptibly, the Japanese girl's eyes flicked to Pari's belly. Her lips drew tighter together. "I just don't want to be a burden, that's all. Days like today help me to understand how much Odette has to go through―how much both of you have to go through. When I think about me and my own concerns. . ."

"I was afraid of this," Pari came down to her knees. With their huge tummies they couldn't face each other head on, but they navigated as best they could. "Other things, too. But mostly I didn't want you feeling like you couldn't come talk to me. It's one thing to talk to Odette―not saying she's not smart in her own way―but there's a difference between a friend's advice and a doctor's instruction."

"But you and her have so much―"

"We do, yes, but we also care about you, Janet. You might feel like you're being intrusive by asking questions or complaining, but what you're really doing is demonstrating trust in us, okay? We worry much more about you when you say nothing. Being open is the best thing you can be."

The young woman nodded. Her flag of dark hair waved some at her bowing motions. By the stiffness of it Pari could read that Janet didn't agree yet. Something was still blocking her willingness to open up―linked to a childhood trauma, a culture, a personal belief, or something else entirely. But in the moment it was enough. It was a sliver of light peeking from a slightly opened door; one previously thought to be shut up and wedged shut. After avoiding milky apocalypse earlier, even tiny victories felt olympian.

Pari thanked Janet. They started talking about less serious topics, dipping back to Odette and lactation and body morphing every so often. Even when they did, they kept things light. As women from different cultures, they actually shared many beliefs―more than Pari expected and enough to pleasantly please her. When it came to appraising Odette's choice in friendships, going over each individual with a fine-toothed comb, the Indian woman found that Odette's judgement in character was always spot on. The little blonde acted like a magnet for good people, Janet being one of them.