Lost in Akiba Ch. 02

Brea was alone in the tiny room and soon missed the pleasant sucking. By now she understood what was expected of her and was actually looking forward to serving her customers. Soon a new guest entered the room, her room, and Brea didn't have to wait long for the sucking to start again.

When she finally went back home that evening she whistled happily. For the first time since her pump broke she felt pleasantly empty again. Those gentle lips teasing her thick, hard nipples were the best thing that could have happened to her, and the young woman couldn't wait to go back to work. And she wouldn't need to spend any money on a new pump.

Every evening, as soon as she ended her study, Brea went back into her stall. She even started to like her strange costume as it brought back the memories of those delicious mouths. But unfortunately not all those customers were as well behaved. Sometimes those mouths were too eager, sucking with so much force that it hurt. Sometimes their hands would maul and pinch her breasts, and sometimes they would slap her tits so brutally that she felt the stings days later. But she was ready to put up with those nuisances. What she wasn't willing to accept where those enterprising fingers that tried to break through the hole and into her costume. And unfortunately those expeditions got more and more frequent, with the most successful ones sneaking past her leotard and into her panties. It was only a matter of time until they would reach her honey pot.

Brea complained, first to the waitress, then to her boss. She wasn't so sure if she got her point across, but the guy seemed quite happy with her services in general. He kept smiling at her, nodding whenever Brea said anything, and when she finally took a pen and some paper and tried to illustrate her complaints - doodling some hands that went to inappropriate places on a hand-drawn, sexy goddess - he emphatically voiced his support for preventing the undue touching.

Nothing really changed for a week and Brea assumed her explanation had simply failed. Then, one day, just when she was about to raise the issue again, her boss pulled her into the restaurant, served her a giant pot of ramen and beamed, "Ready! Please eat! Long service!"

Brea once again did not understand a thing. But her boss seemed so happy that she simply did as she was told and downed the steaming hot pot of noodles. As soon as she finished, the old man led her up to the room again and showed her his surprise.

The small room had been thoroughly remodelled. Her crudely painted stall was gone, and so were all the cardboard boxes. A large wall made of beautiful, dark, finely textured wood took up an entire wall. And the room seemed a bit smaller. Brea marvelled at the sheer beauty of the wood and stepped closer to examine the odd object.

The material seemed to consist of thousands of thin sheets, layered on top of each other, providing the wall with an exquisite, polished finish. She brushed with her fingers over the delicate surface, mesmerized by the spotless, shiny object. But how was she supposed to service here? There were no signs, no stalls, no nothing, just an empty room with a huge, gleaming, beautiful wall.

"You like new place?" asked someone behind her. She instantly recognized the voice and spun around.

"It's marvelous! But how am I going to offer my services? Where is my stall?"

The old man smiled and motioned her to follow him to the end of the room. His fingers traced along the right edge of the wooden wall. Suddenly a small panel snapped open, revealing a single, red button. He pushed it.

A dark hum filed the place. Silent creaking signalled that something was moving. Brea looked around, searching for the source. She saw a gap forming in the wooden wall, separating it into two halves. The view opened to a hidden, much smaller section of the room, equally clean and spotless with the only exception of some cameras mounted to the ceiling and along the tight space.

Her boss hustled towards the middle of the room, climbed over the lower section of the wooden wall and examined its surface. Suddenly he had two pieces of wood in his hands, both of oblong shape, their bottom circular and maybe as big around as a small bottle of beer. The top of each hole was flat and open towards the upper edge of the panel, their inner rim peculiarly formed. At the lower, round section, the wood was heavily tapered, the side towards the hidden part of the room significantly smaller in diameter than the outside.

The man pointed to the now visible, vertical, oblong gaps and said, "New workplace! Come!"

Brea didn't understand. How was she supposed to work here? Where was she expected to put her swollen boobs?

"Workplace, here!" the man repeated and motioned her to come to the other, hidden side.

Brea climbed over the lower portion of the wall. She now noticed two large displays that were mounted in the corners. If she stood close to the wall she could easily look at them by turning her head left or right. The man pushed the costume towards her chest and repeated once again, "Workplace, here!"

Brea shrugged and put on the costume. By now she was used to displaying her large, white, swaying breasts to customers so she wasn't too bothered to have the old man around. Once she was inside her leotard, shoes and mask the manager pulled her tits out and turned her around. He pushed her softly towards the open wall, maneuvering her breasts into the strange, open holes. Her large cow head bumped against something. A bit dizzy from the hit, the girl noticed that her swollen boobs were just at the right height as the man pushed them into the tight spaces.

The holes were small, way too small for her. But thanks to the oblong shape her breasts somehow fitted, squashed vertically into two funny looking, fleshy pillows.

She examined the wooden wall once again, her fingers trailing around the smooth surface of the cutouts that were now filled by her oddly formed breasts. The wall was maybe as thick as a brick and seemed very stable. The strange, tapered rim of the cutouts forced her breasts to bulge out further, constricting them tightly near her chest.

The man climbed over the wall again and grabbed her naked breasts from the other side. One by one he pulled them through the holes as far as they would go, until the tight inside part of the circular bottom rested squarely at her rib cage, her entire breast trapped in the odd openings. Then he snapped two clamps on her fat, hard nipples.

Her boss grinned happily and lightly slapped her tender pillows. Then he turned around, went to the small panel again and pushed the button, murmuring something about "Next time alone. Ten minute for automatic fitting!"

Brea watched with concern as the top part of the wall slowly descended. Was this really going to work? How was she supposed to get out again? And why was she wearing a costume when nobody would ever see her? For those cameras?

The upper section of the wall got closer and suddenly Brea saw something she didn't recognize before. And it made her panic.

There, at the bottom of the wooden object slowly moving downwards, were two evil looking protrusions, their bottom side of circular shape and equally tapered. And those protrusions were heading right for the two holes occupied by her bloated breasts.

This was insane! Brea knew she had to get out and fast! She pulled her tits out of the holes. At least she tried, but two strong hands on the other side pulled as well, keeping her breasts in place. The girl panicked, yelled, smashed her silly cow head against the wall but it was no use. The grip on her vulnerable tits held fast.

Like stamps the two, wooden protrusions slowly pushed down on her tits, squeezing her flesh together. Slowly, very slowly the top part of the wall came down. Brea screamed frantically as her tits got squashed further and further.

The humming got a bit louder and as the upper section got pressed in place, forming her large breasts into perfect, circular globes again. The pressure was forcing her twins to bunch up and expand to the other side, to gain space wherever possible. Brea squinted, waiting for the pain to hit as her large melons got squished into tight rolls of dough.

She heard something click, the locks engaged. And Brea was surprised that the pain wasn't actually all that bad. Sure, her breasts felt strange, like balloons ready to pop, but compared to the pain she was used to by now it was definitely bearable.

The gap had completely closed and was not visible anymore to the naked eye. The fine marbling of the surface, the pattern of the thousands of thin sheets was whole again, and nothing hinted at the hidden secret. Nothing except the two, gigantic, jiggling white objects with a slight pinkish hue, two strong clamps adorning the thick nipples, trapping Brea's milk inside. The old man left and Brea pondered what the day would bring.

Brea turned her head to check one of the displays. It showed the other side of the room which was now empty. Suddenly the door opened and the old man entered, pushing a small table with some silver bowl on it. The image changed, now only her two, bloated, clamp-adorned, milk-laden tits were visible, filling the entire screen. Brea gasped, amazed by the vulgarity of the image. She saw the table appear beneath her breasts, hands maneuvered everything in place, moving the large silver bowl right below her boobs. Then she felt something at her nipples, felt the clamps open. She moaned relieved.

The old man chuckled as her milk sprayed from the compressed, bloated udders without anything touching them. He reached out to the upper slope of one ballooning tit and slowly stroked downwards. The flow increased immediately. Happy with the arrangement, the man put the clamps back on the hard, thick nubs to shut off the milk and left the room. Brea groaned in frustration.

Only minutes later the door opened again. Brea looked at the display and saw another old man enter. He immediately went for her trapped tits and removed the clamps. Brea sighed happily as his warm mouth engulfed her nipples and sucked hard.

One by one her customers entered and left, draining Brea's large udders bit by bit. Then, once she was empty, her boss showed up and pressed the button, freeing the exhausted girl for the day.

Brea got used to the routine pretty quickly. The self-fitting at the start of her shift had been a bit of a challenge, resulting in some angry screaming and cursing whenever her flesh got squeezed in the wrong way, but in general she had no problem with the setup as long as her tits got emptied by the guests. Every morning Brea in fact looked forward to her work shift and enjoyed the exquisite feelings her disembodied breasts caused.

Until the day everything went spectacularly wrong. That day, the fitting already was a disaster. Her tits got trapped when they were only halfway through, and it took more than an hour for someone to notice and call the manager. Instead of opening the wall again, some men simply pulled as hard as they could until her now hurting tits popped through.

Then the milk went out. Not her milk, but the regular cow milk used by the cafe below. And because it was apparently impossible to purchase some new milk, the manager instructed the girls to instead use Brea's produce. A bea line had formed quickly in front of the wall, with young, sexy waitresses trying to express milk out of her swollen tits and into their tea cups and dishes.

Brea actually enjoyed the new sensations, the curious, tender hands caressing her bloated pillows. But once her tits were empty and couldn't deliver, those tender hands quickly turned into evil, impatient monsters that squeezed, slapped and pulled her udders in a quest to harvest another drop. Brea soon yearned to be released. With her milk reservoir empty there surely was no point in keeping her around. And indeed, the waitresses soon stopped coming, only that another visitor showed up instead.

A young man, maybe in his twenties, entered the room, happily whistling, carrying a box under his arm.

"Cow? No-milk cow?" he asked, grinning evilly. He approached Brea's breasts, put the box on the table and opened it. Having fun already, he showed the contents to one of the cameras saying "Now let's check no-milk cow!"

Brea couldn't really judge the size of the rubber bands but they looked incredibly tiny and very strong. Without further ado, the man pulled one of the bands open and let it slip over her left breast. Tears welled up in Brea's eyes and she screamed in pain. But the stranger didn't care and continued with his work.

One by one the bands found their way around her trapped tits, squeezing her flesh further and further, the tight loops of rubber quickly slipping down into the peculiarly formed wooden holes, vanishing from sight.

And suddenly there was milk again. It was only a trickle but it was enough to make the man jump in joy. His lips quickly wrapped around her leaking nipple and sucked with furor. Brea moaned as his eager tongue started pleasuring her, wondering how her damn buds could still be so sensitive after all the abuse. And for the first time she appreciated that the new wall kept enterprising fingers out. Otherwise that boy surely would have tried to get into her panties.

Suddenly the ground began to shake. It started with a tremor that made the walls creak. The tremor was followed by a series of loud bangs. Brea didn't know what was going on but something deep inside of her was convinced that it was quite appropriate to panic. She felt the lips disengage. The man shouted something, clearly in panic, too, and dashed out of the room. The shaking only got worse.

Then the whole room crumbled, the floor breaking away, a chasm opening up below her. Brea skidded downward, only held up by her still trapped, awfully swollen breasts. She could now see the cafe below, see panicking people dashing out of the doors. Nobody seemed to notice the weird cow-girl with her huge, comical head hanging from her trapped tits.

And then the wall gave in as well. Brea saw the thin wooden sheets move, felt them squeeze her captured flesh even further. The pain was excruciating. The wall suddenly tilted and crashed down, taking the girl with it.

Brea screamed, her voice already hoarse, her tits the only thing keeping her from falling. The girl was dangling above the floor, her hands desperately searching for something to hold on, her boobs about to burst. Brea screamed for help, shouted and yelled but no one seemed to care.

Finally her fingers found a tiny ledge, a small, protruding piece of wood. Too small for her to hold on. She reacted quickly, grabbing her leotard's shoulder piece and yanking it over the little nook to lessen the strain on her hurting bosom.

The stupid cow head was already pretty banged up and repeatedly got in the way until Brea finally managed to pull it off. She threw it down into the vacated cafe, happy to see a bit more of what was going on. Her head was still pressed uncomfortably against the wooden barrier above and her neck hurt already.

She felt the leotard strain and desperately tried to get more of the material onto the little hook. But it was in vain. Before long, the skimpy piece of clothing tore and bits and pieces of it sailed down to the destroyed room, leaving her hanging from her tits again, now naked. Only the shoes were still on her.

Brea was in panic. Slowly the thought settled in that it could be over, that this was how she would go out, hung by her own tits during a freak earthquake. But then she felt something on her trapped melons, someone was poking into her taut, bloated balls of fire. She heard somebody shout.

The strained wall trembled, Brea felt the tight openings around her breasts change shape again, squashing different parts of her flesh. The wall seemed to shift, the hidden gap in the middle moved downward a bit. Brea feared the whole thing would collapse any moment, taking her with it.

The shouting got louder and more urgent. There was movement down the cafe. A group of men entered. They brought a large ladder with them and put it up quickly. The exhausted girl stepped on it, finally able to relieve her breasts from the strain. The guys looked at her with wide eyes, discussing something with a lot of giggling in between. Brea couldn't understand a word but assumed they were surprised by the strange situation she was in. It surely had to be the first time they had to rescue someone trapped by their own breasts, naked.

She felt something poke into her tits again, heard faint mumbling. Someone squeezed her invisible udders from above. She heard someone laughing. Another hand squeezed her, then something harder, less careful hit her. Was someone stomping on her tit?

Suddenly a loud noise filled the building, a chainsaw cut into the wood. The blade appeared inches from Brea's eyes. She felt intimidated by the powerful, dangerous tool and tried to step away from it as far as possible.

Which was a mistake. She missed the step, the ladder suddenly tilting and crashing down. Brea screamed in pain as her tits once more were the only thing saving her from the drop. The chainsaw stopped, someone yelled. A group of men appeared below her, quickly putting the ladder up again. Brea found the saving steps, groaning relieved and the chainsaw roared to life.

Soon, the wood trapping her melons got separated from the rest. The men curiously examined the tight rubber binding of her boobs, shaking their heads in disbelief. The bands may have saved her life though, keeping her breasts bloated and swollen enough to not slip through the holes.

A pair of scissors were brought and Brea groaned in relief as the bands were cut away. She was finally free again. The firefighters took the remaining pieces from her and guided her outside. A blanket was wrapped around her naked body and she was brought to hospital. It was all a blur.