Sharing the Burden Ch. 01-02

Naomi scored an A plus in both Macy's fantasies and on the actual final itself.

Macy realized later when she found a long-sleeve cropped sweatshirt in white from her own college days what was going on: she was crushing hard on Naomi, reliving her own college years.

"Gosh, look at me. . . "

She stopped herself. The bottom of the cropped portion only barely scooped under the swells of her breasts. Her stomach was fully exposed. Her body looked magnificent to her, a far cry from the lack of confidence she had always had growing up. Breasts like soccer balls moulded the white top around them, stretching to the max. With a pullover, the seams were all sturdy and stitched inside, so the top stretched instead of breaking, making it impossible for Macy to hide a single ounce of her ample curves. In fact, since the cut of the top was in one piece, it brought out how narrow her shoulders were and how slender her arms were in comparison. She was such an average woman above the neckline which juxtaposition the rest of her. She was full, round, and bouncy from the neck down.

Having never had too much in the realm of curves, her new ones more than delighted her.

"I look. . ." she started. "Like fan art. I look like somebody online decided to draw me as a college girl. Post-augmentation."

And she loved it. Her heart fluttered at the thought. She wondered what Naomi would say once they were alone. Their time had been short after the test when her student, Naomi, gave her jovial eyes as she handed in her paper. Those eyes had spread smooth like butter over each of Macy's new curves. It made her body tingle just to recall.

Then, her belly sounded off in one of it's signature Glorbls.

Both her hands went to the source of that sweet, sweet body music. Her big, tight belly was a direct result of her efforts to drink all of Naomi's milk this morning. It sloshed and bubbled when she walked and had been a great dance partner as Macy attempted to do some chores. Despite it being the size of a yoga ball, it still retained a tautness and jutted over a foot away from Macy. She hadn't quite found anything more joyous than placing her hands underneath it and supporting its warm heft with her palms. The occasional blip of adjusting cream was felt as well as heard.

Except, it wasn't how it had been. That was clear from the start. When Macy walked into her classroom to administer the test, she'd been a titan of size. Now, she was merely pregnant with Naomi's milk baby. The rock-concert levels of sound and shake and size just weren't there the way they had been. She was still taut, not 'lean on your car horn because you can't help it' taut.

After some appraising, Macy concluded that the milk in her system was being treated with the same indiscriminate speedy metabolism that prevented the teacher from picking up much in the way of curves. Her body digested her curves away, making her shrink by the minute. All her life, Macy hadn't had to worry about her weight because of how fast her body processed food. She never expected it would backfire on her at this moment

When she was just starting to like her curves, her body was simply eating at them, calorie by calorie.

"It's alright," she reassured herself, fixing her lips with a light balm and her eyes with a style of mascara she hadn't worn since freshman year. "Because I'm going where there's bound to be plenty more where this came from."

Macy dodged an unusual number of positive compliments and smiles on the way to Naomi's dorm. The dorms in the East Quad were all known for overachieving students, studious types and homebodies that Macy could usually identify at a distance. The ones who took her ethics course were only there for the elective credit, looked as bored as rocks most classes, and spent the length of her lecture doing homework for other courses. And it never failed that they would be the exact ones knocking on her door during planning periods, complaining about the 'A minus' they received.

None of them were the types to approach anyone, especially not to shoot the breeze. Academics mattered. Other things only sort of mattered. In a lot of ways, Naomi fit right in with her classmates at Harrisburg Dorms.

All that to say, the teacher was a little off-put by the brazen winks and twinkling smiles she received as she walked across campus around four-thirty that afternoon. Not that she didn't think she deserved a little attention. Macy knew she wasn't a model, but she had a niche and had dated successfully, taking advantage of her frump and occupation to snag a few suitors into the whole 'hot for teacher' dynamic.

But even accounting for that, people didn't usually follow her around corners and watch as she walked away, or pretend to be reading in the afternoon sun at the picnic area only to snap a picture with their smartphone from under the table and lick their lips at the resulting image.

She was thinking about it when she knocked on the door of one of the dorm rooms, realizing too late that she hadn't double checked the room number and was asking for access to a student's most personal space. Down the hall were chatting voices; kids conversing in the halls about the results from finals, discussing how they would spend their summers—more classes, for most of them, as the dorm had a strict four-point-oh GPA requirement.

Several were side-eying her. Macy felt her skin crawling all over, which was likely the only thing she could dislike about the extra amounts of her surging forth from under her white sweater.

When the door opened, she measured out barely half a second to recognize Naomi's form and barged inside, out of the way of the onlookers.

"That's insane," Macy noted. "There's just so many of them."

"So many of who?" Naomi said, with her typical innocence.

The sound of it drew Macy's eye down. She noticed Naomi was in a casual robe—no, robes were thick. Naomi was in a chiffon kimono cardigan. Poppy red floral patterns spangled over its flowing trails. Its style could seduce, while its design made it loungewear for a couch on a lonely weekend. Frankly, on its own, it straddled both sides, but Naomi had a tendency to turn whatever she wore into a tantalizing visual game.

"Uh," Macy stumbled with her words. From a shoulder bag, she pulled out a folded bit of clothing unfit for the both of them. "Here. Told you I would bring this back."

"Thanks," Naomi answered.

"And uh, you've never worn that to class."

"Hmm? Oh, no. It's house clothes. I wouldn't wear it out. . ."

It was lingerie, Macy thought. Clothes that made to be warn at the house, sure, but not for too long.

The tank top she'd just handed over was probably what was meant to underneath. It would add decency where it was currently in short supply. Without it, Naomi was voluptuous, nerdy fantasy personified. The thin material held tight to her pinching-yet-soft waist. When she pulled it around herself with both fisted hands, the bottom that had fluttered loose instead bound itself around her wealth of hip, bum, and thigh. The same happened with her chest which oozed from the V-shaped vent in the top like toothpaste from its tube. At the front of each one was a pink hill, so obvious and swollen with little or no protection. A person could just reach forward and grasp a handful of just areola and they'd feel it with a barrier that barely a stitch thick.

Macy realized the feast her eyes were having; how the tingles she got from just watching had distracted her. Naomi held an arm around her waist, pushing up her large, soft breasts, while her other hand adjusted her bangs for the millionth time that day, looking with anticipation and curiosity.

So, Macy touched Naomi tenderly, resting palms atop her breasts, delivering the invitation into the shared world of good tingles. "Well, you look nice in it. Very pretty," she said, kindly. "And I didn't mean to just barge in like that. No manners at all."

A brief lip pucker showed that having her boobs rubbed was just what Naomi had been anticipating. "It's fine. Good, actually. Really, really good," the brunette said, tilting her head into a daze of a smile.

A simple touch had been enough to begin to turn her crank. The morning was still fresh on both their minds, so even though Macy's motions were whisper soft, they still felt like they shifted both of their worlds.

Naomi was a stressed, high-achieving honor student with a mess of brown hair and a mess of a life. That much, at least, was similar to the other students at Harrisburg. But with finals, she had been a whirlwind of frantic emails and text messages as she reviewed time and time again. She read the textbook cover to cover—not even for the first time. And for several weeks leading up to it, she didn't do homework from other classes but focused exclusively on Macy's lectures.

When she arrived at class the morning of the final, the girl was a wreck. After all the work she'd put in, Macy ended up having to scold her not for her knowledge of the course material, but for negligence in taking care of her two other problems:

Her absurdly large, lactating breasts.

Unable to properly measure, Macy remembered leaving Naomi at an L cup for the exam. They were meeting again later and it was Macy's idea to leave some for seconds once she knew that there would be another opportunity. Now, they were together at last. Macy's paunch shoved the tops of the shorter brunette's globes as a result of the loose embrace they'd adopted.

"It's like I've shrunk and you've gained it all back," Macy commented. "Like I just keep getting smaller and smaller and you just keep making milk."

"I haven't gotten that much bigger, though," Naomi sang in her sweet, airy lilt as she bumped her boobies into Macy's belly intermittently. "Maybe a little but. . ."

"You're not too good at judging your own size. Need I remind you that you almost sat down to take an hour long exam with boobs that wouldn't even fit in your desk chair?"

Naomi's lips seemed to double in kissability when she pouted. "The exam only took me thirty-five minutes."

Macy rolled your eyes. "It sure did, you cute little nerd." Macy was about to tell her she passed with an A plus but caught herself, wanting to save it for a surprise. "But that's not the point. You've grown—just in the few hours since class this morning."

Macy maneuvered her tummy around some. The exercise of walking across campus from her parking spot and up the dorm stairs had burned her size down like a block of ice on hot pavement. At the moment, her body would have made a great promotion for a new fad diet or weight loss magazine, as she knew she must've looked like she dropped twenty pounds in the hour commute.

Still, the size she had was like a round, soft pumpkin and it depressed lovingly down toward Naomi's cushiony body. The brunette's bulbous breasts played catch, letting the weight of Macy's tummy sink and press into them. The firmness of Naomi's titties made Macy's smooth skin begin to vibrate. Just rubbing herself on Naomi was enough; petted by those springy, brewing boobs as they continued to produce what Macy wanted most.

Both women mewled at one another, their sighs so close that they mingled together above the collision of gorgeous female flesh. There was a reluctance in Macy to move further; this was still her student, technically, and she was still a teacher being caught up in some strange relations. But it was Naomi who reached and pulled, urging her body to surround Macy's within its pale, soft inner walls. Macy's lashes fluttered, like the sensation of being pressed so tightly in a hug made her boobies tingle.

"I-I can feel you growing against me," Macy groaned, conscious of the door beside her and the gaggle of students that had watched her stumble inside. "Let's go to your bedroom."

"Sure."

They remained exactly where they were, Naomi's hand like a vice.

"You have to let go so I can walk," Macy reminded her.

Naomi pouted again. "Fine. . ."

The dorm opened some once inside. The first thing they passed on the right was an open closet where a few hoodies and coats were hung. Macy recognized them. More accurately, she remembered how Naomi's chest had looked over the course of the semester in each one. She lingered only long enough to imagine Naomi in her thinnest jacket, to see the bulbs of her haloed areola through two layers of clothing, then went on into a small living space.

It opened up on the right-hand side. A forty-inch television that came stock with the Harrisburg Dorms was mounted to the wall, underneath which was a sparse entertainment system and a set of speakers.

"Probably doesn't get much use," Macy said, fleetingly.

"Not true. I watch it sometimes."

"What's your favorite thing to watch on TV, Naomi?"

The young woman turned sideways and touched the spot where a dimple was on her chin. "I like those sales shows. The ones where they have the ladies that sell things that are always on a discount."

Macy blinked slowly. She didn't mind taking in Naomi's profiled silhouette while she indulged her curiosity. "What do you like about shows like that? Do you usually buy anything."

"I've never bought a thing from them in my life. I don't have a credit card." Naomi shrugged—a small wiggle traveled through both her boobies, making her soft tops roll into one another. "The ladies are pretty, though. And they always get really pretty models, too. I don't know, I think I just like pretty girls."

"Do you like me?" Macy realized how pushy she sounded with the question, then figured that it mattered that she knew what she was getting herself into.

It was for that still small voice; a devil's advocate that had her double thinking.

"That's a silly thing to ask," Naomi fiddled with more hair.

"So I'm in a silly mood. Humor me."

They had turned left at the wall and gone up a set of stairs into a loft area. On the right was a closed door to what must have been Naomi's roommate's room. On the left, a few feet away, was Naomi's room.

"I like you way more than the models on shopping channels." The brunette turned in her doorway. Macy hadn't come with her. Her back was turned. "What's wrong? Are you still just being silly?"

Macy was anything but silly at that moment. "Is your roommate home?" Why hadn't she considered such a thing earlier? Of course Naomi lived with someone else. So much of their interaction had been just the two of them, but even so she should have suspected that they wouldn't be completely alone.

On the one hand, people had sex in college dorms all the time. Macy wasn't particularly slowed by that. What stifled her was the horror story in her head about being discovered by a mystery student. Who was the girl that lived with Naomi? Would she care if she saw another girl in her dormitory or would she shrug it off?

Come to think of it, was she used to Naomi's startling size changes? Or was Naomi such a recluse that they never crossed paths?

"She has a biology final tonight. She isn't here."

"When will she be back?" Macy asked, nerves exposed.

"I'll introduce you to her when she comes back. But right now, we have other things to do."

Naomi was right. It was how it was said, though, that made Macy smile. "Listen at you being all responsible. If you'd been this diligent all semester, I never would have had to have those awkward talks with you. When did the change happen?"

A tiny paw pulled Macy deeper into the small bedroom space. It wasn't much to fuss about and nothing Macy wasn't already familiar with. From the various places that Naomi had sent pictures from, Macy already had the girl's room mapped out. Anytime there was a table, diagram, or chart—there weren't too many in an ethic's textbook, but then again there also wasn't much to Naomi's room—Macy would receive a picture with said chart and a corner of Naomi's little world. She knew the door in the corner went to the bathroom and already knew the sink was coral colored. The bedsheet was featured often and was a lime green color with sheets that never seemed to be neatly tucked.

In a way, it sort of felt like a homecoming to have Naomi sit down on her mattress, straining it with her excess curvaceousness, and to come down herself on top of the girl into what was a cautious but inflamed kiss.

The satisfaction of it was what made the kiss so sweet. She'd crushed on this amazing, milky girl for so long and had only been able to enjoy her at a distance. Now, she was in the girl's bed. Their bodies were touching in ways that broke all the school codes of conduct. It felt like her many fantasies—the ones reserved for the loneliest nights behind her computer or phone, reading words that the average person didn't even know existed, written by names only she and a few others revered—were here before her.

Naomi was sitting on the edge of the bed. Macy leaned harder and harder into her, forcing the kiss to go deeper, seeking and finding that sense of melting.

"Will you suck my boobies after this?" Naomi spoke the words through a tiny crack of space in their lips.

Macy laughed so hard, she snorted.

"What? Was something wrong?"

"No, dear. Nothing's wrong. Let me see those beautiful breasts." Naomi, it occured to Macy, was even more of her fantasy than she imagined—a girl who cared more about her boobies getting sucked than any amount of foreplay.

Sure, there was the reality of their relationship which Macy hoped would start slow and slip further and further into a love that held them tightly together for many years. But in the moment, immediate as a house fire, Naomi just wanted someone to do some squishy, sweet titty milking.

That's what Macy's fantasies had been about all along, anyway: Naomi being a perfect cowgirl, always thinking about her next milking, always making a load of cream that was better for the singular woman in her life that nursed from her.

Naomi unfurled her cardigan with little ceremony. However, everything about Naomi's breasts felt magnanimous. The way she didn't curl inward when her boobs rushed into the open air, but rolled her shoulders back to display them properly. How her chin tilted down so she could watch herself, seeing her size again and attempting to wrap her own mind around them. Then, robe loosely draped around her arms, she leaned back even further and looked to Macy, the sheer mass of her titties twice the size of her head taking her down into her covers, lolling into a blizzard of little jiggles that screamed 'milk me'.

"I'm ready," said Naomi.

But it was obvious that she was.

Macy dove in and crashed into the familiar sea of Naomi's cleavage. They both squealed happily, bouncing slightly against the bed, covers rising and falling haphazardly on parts of them. Macy chose the right breast to kiss this time, pulled to it by a certain grumble of sound that promised a huge milky burst would soon come.

With her arm, she gingerly rolled the squishy flesh around. Her fingers stretched to their greatest lengths. They never seemed able to find the end of the jiggly, fun blimps. Every extra inch made for yet another softened area. Naomi's spine went serpentine at Macy's touch. When Macy's fingers started to grace her darkened, pink crowns, pushing and pulling the right areola, Naomi produced a sound so rich and primal that Macy couldn't help but incorporate her mouth into the action.

"I'd be happy to milk you and end your suffering, but I'm going to have to see those nipples first," Macy chided, moving in and kissing the tremendous length of Naomi's cleavage.

She could have mistaken the experience for laying just in front of a pair of yoga balls; big, yielding mountains begging to be climbed. At the low angle, the sounds were even louder. Each of Naomi's milk jugs produced a symphony of bubbling Grbbl's and whistling tweets the way an upset stomach might. Except, instead of filling the student with pain, it was clear by her moans and tiny spasms of rapture that her being filled with milk was bringing her closer and closer to an enviably fulfilling end.