Sharing the Burden Ch. 01-02

Macy couldn't suck for a while. All her efforts were spent keeping her lips in place and her throat open. Her eyes would go white with shock—she knew her own fetish, but still couldn't get over how good it felt to live it. And her cheeks would remain bulged as would her throat where a singular vein popped proudly from her mighty efforts.

The belly would become even more prominent, then, as Naomi's cream found a nesting place in Macy's bulging pit. The teacher felt the warmth like a star, expanding inside of her, glowing all the more the bigger she got. She drank and drank, awarded by these lactation orgasms—'Lactogasms'? 'Lactic Climaxes'?—and swooned at her body transforming into that arousing, pornographic image from before. Bigger and broader she swelled, belly taut as Naomi's tits, until she was the size of a bowling ball. Then, she drank more.

It was the rush of it; she was so thrilled to make her little cowgirl express herself so roughly and to hear Macy's quivering sighs. Her belly was a bonus—much better than last year's teacher's bonus.

Then, before she became too lopsided, Macy urged the two of them to swap sides and went on for another half hour, resigned to do nothing more with her time than work Macy's juicy nubs in her mouth and feel the sweet, curvy girl's breasts losing their forms.

About the time Naomi's bounce finally returned to her chest, there came more knocking on the door.

______

Naomi offered up an adorable mewl. "I don't want to face the world," she said, and curled herself closer to Macy, making a case with her squishy, delicious jugs as to why she should never have to do anything she doesn't want to.

"But what if it's important?" Macy retorted.

"Nothing's that important. Not if they come to the door."

"What time is it? Could your roommate be back yet—. . ."

"Final. Long, long final. Macy. . ." Naomi was spoiled rotten now, egging Macy on. She knew she had an advantage; her body, her sweet song of a voice, and the impressive quality of her milk could test the teacher's will till it collapsed.

Macy was tempted. Seriously, viscerally tempted; unlike how she was before. She found it harder to care who was knocking, knowing that they would eventually leave them both alone anyway and that the two of them would lose nothing if they went along the way they were. If it was Naomi's roommate, she ought to have a key, too. She wouldn't have to knock on her own dorm room door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

And yet, Macy just couldn't put off the thought she'd had earlier. What was happening to her—to the students at the college? Why was it that she was the recipient of all those looks and compliments? Two strangers had come knocking on the door looking for her. They couldn't have recognized her as a teacher or they would have said so. They only seemed concerned about one thing.

Her taut bowl of a belly.

"I need a break anyway, Naomi," Macy said, a sympathetic lilt in her voice. "My jaw is actually a little sore from just sucking and sucking you. Give it a little while to rest, at least. You're much smaller already."

The comment brought both women's attention to Naomi's chest. It wasn't so domineering anymore, resembling a normal pair of K cups—if there was even such a thing as a 'normal' K cup. Though instead of the compelling tenseness that demanded a mouth's relief, her K cups, being only partially full, bore a soft, malleable quality while retaining a heft and obvious shapeliness. Now, they could be played with roughly; bounced for all they were worth. They were just on the right side of lumbersome, of a size that was alien and obscure in that way that draws a person in.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Persistent, aren't they?" Macy said after snapping herself out of her dreamy thoughts. She'd been 'that' far away from just going with Naomi's plans. Just one more second between the Knock. Knock. Knock—that's all it would have taken to push her over.

"Fine," Naomi budged. "But you answer this time. You can deal with them"

Macy gestured toward her midsection; a heavy globe now distending her to levels of pregnancy only experienced by women after thirty-nine weeks. Her own tummy had the quality of Naomi's chest in that when she gestured, the both of them held the cute bump in their gaze, romanced intensely by it in a way that was both novel and natural.

But the door knocked again and Naomi shrugged. "I don't want to get it. I want to rub your tummy with my—. . ."

"Fine. I'll get the door."

Macy rose and again regarded herself. Her hair was everywhere again, so she flattened it as best she could. Her top was twisted so she righted it. When she went to pull it down over her belly, it wouldn't even begin to come close to covering it. She could only ask so much out of a half halter.

Then, unknowing of what to expect, and much more careful of what the person on the other side of the door could see of her, she twisted the latch and peeked her head out of about six inches of an opening.

First, she saw the wall on the other side. Then, looking down, she saw Harriet tilting around the door to try to see further inside.

"Hello, Naomi. Again. Umm, I was just. . . Oh." Her head tilted up and met Macy's.

Macy felt her heart freezing into an icy stone in her chest. Would the girl recognize her? Sure, her belly was hidden, but there was nothing she could do to hide her face.

In the seconds when their eyes met, it felt like they were suspending a bowling ball on a tightrope hanging on each of their noses. Macy felt it pulling her gaze southward but resisted, solid in nothing but appearances.

"Oh. Am I at the wrong dorm? Isn't Naomi supposed to be here?" asked Harriet.

A cool river of relief washed inside of Macy. "She's unavailable right now. Tired from exams. You know how it is."

"I-I do." Harriet shuffled her feet. She took a few half-hearted attempts at looking at the crack in the door, but found them fruitless. "I-Is there a way to know when she will be available again? S-See, there's this woman. . ."

"A woman?" Macy said, aloof.

"Yes. I've been looking for her for a while and I think Naomi might know where she went? She was in a hurry earlier and closed the door before I could explain. I-I guess she was in a hurry to, uh, take a nap? That's what I like to do after finals. Take a nice, long nap."

"She's relaxing, alright," Macy nodded. Even though she could all but feel herself being drawn away from the door toward Naomi's waiting chest, she kept herself engaged if only to not give away what her real intentions were. "Maybe just try again tomorrow. It's getting a little late, right? Maybe you're a little stressed out too. The two of you could work on finding your woman in the morning." When Harriet looked vexed by the idea of waiting any longer, Macy added, "Summer break starts tomorrow. The two of you could really get some searching in."

"True. First day of summer classes isn't for a week. We could find her in a week."

"Exactly." Macy smiled. Once she'd had her fun with Naomi, she was going to fly as low under the radar as she could for the summer. What if every person who had winked at her today were hunting her down like Harriet was? And Harriet only had a week because of summer classes—the girl was impressively industrious regarding academics. What about students who had more time, though, who were going to spend their vacation drinking, partying, and gossipping about the woman with the preggo belly?

That thought did zing positively through Macy, making her squeeze the door handle to stay grounded. Now, she was a legend at the school. She always hoped it would be her teaching that made her infamous; her uncanny quality of going above and beyond for her students. Instead, it was one student whom she had gone above and beyond for. The school was starting to buzz about her, alright, but not for anything she could have foreseen.

"Are you sure she's not in there? C-can I see her?" Harriet said. It was a weakened appeal, defeat already accepted. "It'll only take a second."

"Next time, okay? I'm sure she'll be happy to meet with you later. Heck, you can even make me the bad guy. Just tell her I didn't feel comfortable letting anybody in."

"Okay. . . And you must be Naomi's, uh, mom? Sister?"

There's a way that any normal woman might react to being assumed to be another girl's mother, but since Harriet lacked the social graces to know how she erred, Macy didn't hold it against her.

Still, she thought, Naomi's mom? Sure, Naomi looked and acted younger than her age and Macy had adopted a maturity with her profession that made her look older.

But mother?

"Just a friend who decided to visit." Macy settled, at last, on a smile.

"Okay. I'll tell her that a friend told me not to disturb her. What's your name?"

"Ma-. . ." The teacher coughed. Close one. "Devon," Macy blurted. It was her middle name and she couldn't keep the clumsiness of it out of her voice.

"Her friend Devon. Okay. I'll tell her. I'll do that to-mor-row—. . ." Harriet began, moving as slowly away from the door, eyeing the slit like there was something amazing about to come leaping out of it.

But that was when her friend 'tall, athletic, and curvy' came around the corner at a medium jog. The distance from corner to door was too short, so her question and subsequent action came out even before Macy could politely shut the door behind her.

"Did you ask again? I've been all over campus asking people and they all say she came in this direction. It has to be here, in Naomi's dorm—don't tell me you've chickened out again!"

She threw her knuckles into the door again. Knock. Knock. KNOCK! In went the door, flying backward.

Macy flinched and went spinning. She'd already turned to walk back. Now, she was facing the open frame of the door and two cute college girls standing outside Naomi's dorm room. The two blinked, obviously confused at what they were seeing. But Macy could tell what they could see; could feel their sliding glances on her smooth, distended skin. The way her top wrapped around her boobs so well, how her hair was styled in a just-came-from-the-brink-of-sex pat down.

And how her tummy looked like there was a watermelon growing inside of her.

______

Macy went running through the dorm with college girls calling for her.

"That's the woman! She's the belly lady—no way! I knew it!"

"Shhh! Bree, quiet! Uh, and her name is Devon. . ."

"Devon with that cute, round tummy. Mmm! She's perfect."

Macy reached Naomi first. Without a word, she grappled the girl up from the couch and hauled her to her room upstairs, closing the door behind her. It wasn't nearly as erotic, but the constant swishing of her stuffed tummy was a constant reminder of the importance of having a word with her student.

Once inside, door locked, Macy began again. "What did I tell you? Those girls were looking for me—why are people chasing after me?"

Naomi pressed her lips together. "For your creamy tummy, of course. Why wouldn't they?"

"Because people don't just flock to pregnant ladies. Well, I mean, they do, but for another reason. Those girls," Macy said, and gestured with a thumb over her shoulder. "Were after me for way more than that. It's crazy to say, I know, but I could just feel how much they wanted me. That was some intense lust right there—it's abnormal."

"You don't get that all the time? You're pretty, Ms. Green."

The tingle of girlish giddy welling up inside her proved that Macy wasn't impervious to Naomi's kind words. She kept the conversation on course, though. "Not pretty like that. The only person I've wanted that kind of attention from is, well. . ." It was Naomi. Only she had been so single-mindedly obsessed with Macy; in the way that a person wants another person in their totality and singularity. To fuck and to cuddle, to shut out the world and to engage in creating a new one; to admire from afar, then to admire up close.

Naomi shifted her weight, her boobs mimicking the swaying motion. "Well?"

"I don't get that kind of attention all the time, Naomi. And I don't know what would make you think I would."

"I just thought it was pretty normal."

"Normal? Being ogled by passersby, winked at, and having people knock on doors just to find you is normal?"

Naomi, as if understanding that this conversation wouldn't be veered off into a swamp of their sticky, sweet sexual ministrations, began to grope her topless form. A subtle slant of her lips accompanied her slow circles as her K cup breasts flowed from her palms, fingers, and arms, entrancing as a warm hug; one she could only give herself. "People do nice things for me all the time. And they look in my direction all the time, too. I thought people just did that to other people—I do it to people, sometimes."

Macy gave Naomi a twice over. The girl just didn't get it. There she was, standing without a top, groping her pillowy tits and pinching her thick nipples and she couldn't seem to understand why people might want to stop and watch her.

"They do that because you're sexy, Naomi. Very, very sexy."

"Then maybe since you drank a lot of me," said Naomi, tilting her raised eyebrows toward Macy's glutted tum. "I gave you some of my 'sexy'. Maybe that's how it works."

"Naomi," Macy's head bobbled back and forth. "There's no way to transfer someone's 'sexiness' over to someone else. Even if there was, I don't think that's something people would just notice."

Then, Naomi said something that knocked Macy off balance. "Well, I notice that sometimes people spend an extra long time in the sink when I'm done with my milkings. Other times, people just look at me closer when it's time for me to take care of myself. There was this one other time where some girls were over for a study night and I tried milking into a glass, but the glass was too small. I forgot to empty the glass, too, and when I went back to the kitchen I found her chugging the whole glass. She even asked for more afterward." Naomi nodded, paused, and stroked the bottom of her nipple like it was a chin; helping her think. "Now that I try to remember, I think it was Harriet, actually. So yes, I think I can lactate liquid 'sexy' and I think people noticed you because of that. . . Can't be anything else."

Macy just knew that the circles under her eyes from limited sleep during final's week were inky and black, contrasting the whites of her gaping eyes.

"Excuse me. Your milk does what, exactly? To people?"

Naomi's head tilted down. She had to know she was in trouble. "I-I don't know what it does. It just does it. People just sort of know when I'm full. It's like I said, I think I just give certain things my 'sexy'."

How could she have said such a thing so plainly?

"Your milk attracts people to you. . ." Macy posited.

Naomi shrugged, pulling her jugs with her. They hypnotically wobbled, completely dominant on her torso. It wasn't possible not to watch the things, but as Macy really clued in on what was happening, she realized that she was watching Naomi's nipples. There was something expectant about them, the sort of thing that lingers and nags until it's fully realized.

As a frequent visitor of certain blogs and forums online, she could identify her craving for more milk immediately. Others, though, might struggle to put into words what they wanted from Naomi. The girl was ripe. Looking at her fed fantasies that swirled to a deep, instinctive part of a person. They could draw people in, make them want to touch her, hold her, and take everything she yielded.

"Yea. It's why I don't like being out much. I mostly just go to school and come back here," Naomi said, though she didn't sound too sad about that.

"You're fine with it?"

"I study a lot. And I don't have to think about these while I study if I do that here." Naomi, begging with her actions, went about groping herself again. This time, she offered her body up, coming closer to Macy with her bulging, squishy tits squeezed between her fingers. "I make all the milk I want while I study and just pump it all out when I'm done."

Naomi had to physically lean back against the room door to keep from lunging forward. She flattened her back against it, abdomen out. Her tummy entered her field of view.

And strangely, in a wink of a moment, she could feel a similar draw coming from her milk-filled belly as she did when she looked at Naomi.

"It's the milk," Macy breathed. "I guess it just. . . has to be your milk."

With nowhere to go, Naomi glommed onto her. She was pinned: her bulb of a tummy being hugged by a cuddly set of warm titties. Will power waned once more. Even knowing that there were girls downstairs that she'd narrowly escaped—her secret of being the teacher with the milky tummy on the verge of becoming public—it still seemed like she had unfinished business with Naomi. Her tummy gave up a fluttery garble as if consenting to a series of actions lacking all logic and reason.

"Trust me. This sort of thing happens to me all the time," said Naomi as she leaned her head down and spoke into Macy's chest. "They eventually come to their senses and just go back home. Even 'sexy' doesn't keep people around forever."

"You have a lot more experience with this than I anticipated. . ." Naomi offered, hands slowly rising till they could rest on Naomi's full hips.

"When you make milk all the time like me, for no reason at all, you just stop trying to make sense of it and learn to live with it; to do normal things like a normal person: going to school, getting dressed, having a crush on your Ethics Professor. . ."

Whether or not Naomi had meant it—please let her have meant those words, thought Macy, holy hell—the emotion behind the words launched the two into a lusty dance. Their bodies were flush, sliding and caressing one another with their curves. Their rhythmed motions started asynchronous, heaps of flesh piling up on other hills, a clash of bouncy opposites. Soon, they found their pace and rolled into one another with power and intention. Macy's taut stomach pressed forward, thrusting, as Naomi's tits came down, causing them to push up toward her chin.

The two moaned. The sound of movement downstairs prompted Macy to move the two. Powered by her thirst for Naomi's delicious little body, she threw sizeable thighs around her waist and carried her little cowgirl around the lime colored bed to the bathroom, hands resting on Naomi's plump ass. At the very least, there was now another door between them and the two 'guests'. At the most, they were in the perfect place to exercise their greatest lusts.

"I want to see you producing like you did this morning," Macy admitted, sitting Naomi down on a gray, tiled countertop next to the coral colored sink. Macy abandoned her cropped top at last, baring her own proud chest. They were noticeably swollen with erect switches angled slightly away near-symmetrically. "I want to do everything I can to make that happen. I just need to drink and drink and drink from you, Naomi. I-I. . ."

"Yea. . ." Naomi said, freeing herself of what was left of her own clothes. "Together."

Macy sank down and Naomi's lips caught hers; the hurried sort of falling, because the two couldn't wait to get where they were going.

Then, Macy's whole body leaned forward onto Naomi's, tilting the two back, and she took Naomi's flame of a nipple aggressively into her mouth. She felt her warm stomach on the edge of the cold sink, heard the clatter of a hair brush being knocked to the side. Naomi's back hit the mirror, causing it to shake.

The room quickly began to vibrate with their activity; low grumbles with satisfied moans and a rich sweetness rolling over and around them.

Macy hid away liter after liter. Her jaw hadn't needed as much of a break as she implied earlier; it served her without complaint now. And she used it as best she could, scooping up as much yummy flesh as she could fit into her mouth. At points, she would push Naomi back toward the mirror, ramming her nose and cheeks and lips so far into the wall of pristine skin and cushion that she could lift it with just the ravenous power of her desires. The milk really flowed, then. No matter how thick or viscous, when a woman wanted cream that badly, it flowed like sweet water: unhindered, riveresque.