To the Last Drop

Yvette Stephens was exhausted.

She'd married her high school sweetheart and bore him two children in less than two years of marriage. Now, she'd just turned 18, yet she felt like an old woman and thought she looked like one too.

Raising two small children so close in age was taking its toll.

Constantly chasing after a relentless, inexhaustible 18-month-old toddler, keeping her from hurting herself or destroying their home was a full time job, and doing so while breastfeeding and caring for a newborn was beyond exhausting and nearly impossible.

Her long light brown hair, once shiny with golden highlights, hung lank and greasy. Her long slender face, once perpetually smiling and vibrant with the joy of life, was now pinched with worry, sleeplessness and stress. She was still young and beautiful but the strain of caring for two very needy kids was telling.

She hated how her body had changed with her pregnancies, especially her breasts. They grew three cup sizes after she gave birth to her first child and didn't shrink back to her normal 32 C cup after she stopped breast feeding. They shrank only a little to a double D and looked enormous on her slender five-foot, two-inch frame.

Then she got pregnant again and her breasts grew another three cup sizes. They were now a huge G cup and so swollen with milk that they throbbed and ached even after her newborn fed. She ordered a pump and froze the excess but the baggies of frozen milk in the freezer were starting to pile up.

It had only been two weeks. Maybe things would get better, or so she hoped.

Her hips were another sore spot for her. She thought they were as wide as a Mack truck and looked even wider because her waist was so narrow. When she'd asked her gynecologist about them, the doctor said a wider pelvis was an evolutionary development that made childbirth less traumatic.

She liked her 24 inch waist but didn't care for her 36 inch hips. Her husband told her that her ass was a work of art, so that was another part of herself she liked, but that was pretty much it.

There was nothing to be done about it, it's the body she had, and the doctor had been right. It took her less than four hours to give birth to each of her daughters.

She was young and healthy enough that her body took only a few weeks to get back to its normal small size, for the skin of her belly and hips to tauten, leaving behind only a few faint white stretch marks to mar the soft pale skin. For her stomach to cramp when she breastfed her baby as her uterus shrank back to normal within her.

Yvette looked down at her heavy milk-filled breasts and sighed in frustration and resignation.

She hefted them from beneath, her small slim hands disappearing from sight, and hoped the horrid things would shrink when her milk dried up so she could go back to looking and feeling normal, rather than feeling like a circus freak and having to endure men's goggle-eyed stares.

She'd gone to a private store to get sized for maternity bras so gravity wouldn't make her tits sag to her waist when she got older, and almost caused an accident when an awestruck ogling driver nearly plowed into a group of pedestrians crossing at a crosswalk.

He'd been staring at her bouncing and swaying, milk-filled boobs as she pushed the double stroller ahead of her on the way to the private boutique. It was a warm spring day and she'd been wearing one of her husbands oversized t-shirts, but her husband was slim himself so it did little to conceal her chest.

The experience had been embarrassing, reinforcing her desire to only go out in public when she absolutely had to.

To top it off, her husband Tyler had been fired from his job at a local paper factory. They were downsizing and he was one of the first to go. They didn't care that he had a wife, a newborn and a toddler to provide for. They only cared about maximizing profits.

The day after Tyler broke the bad news, Yvette went to see her mother to cry on her shoulder and ask for advice. When she left, he'd been in bed staring up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head, his eyes red-rimmed and sunken from lack of sleep and worry, and his shoulders as tense as blocks of wood.

Now wearing a well-made and supportive maternity bra under another of her husband's large shirts, she opened the front door to her childhood home, pulled the double stroller inside and opened her mouth to let her mom know she was there when a chorus of babbling female voices cawed and chattered loudly from the kitchen.

She closed her mouth with a click of her teeth, stepped behind the stroller and pushed it towards the kitchen when she noticed someone was sitting on the living room couch.

She paused, startled for a moment, and then continued on.

"Hi Grampa," she said, nodding and smiling at the old man on the couch as she passed.

It was her great, great grandfather, Samuel Larsson. He was ancient, as gnarled and wrinkled as a sturdy old oak, and almost as strong, even at 84. Everyone called him Grampa. His large wrinkled head was mottled and bald as an egg, his jug-like ears protruded like birds wings, the surface of his enormous bulbous nose was a lattice of broken blue and purple veins and the skin of his sunken cheeks seemed to droop like melted wax.

Thick white hair sprouted like weeds from a mole on his chin. Gray and white nose hair sprayed from his ears and nostrils and his gray and white eyebrows were as thick and unruly as bramble shrubs. Brown liver spots mottled his thin dry skin and his finger joints were swollen and bent with arthritis.

Grampa was an altogether frightening creature, made even more so by deep frown-lines on either side of his thin-lipped mouth and the perpetually downturned angry set to his mouth. Yvette had always found him scary and creepy and usually kept her distance.

The old man returned her nod but stayed quiet as she breezed past. She tried to ignore him as he stared intently at her large swaying breasts with deep-set flinty eyes. Even contained and well-supported in a sturdy maternity bra and covered by a large baggy shirt, they were a sight to behold.

When Yvette walked into the kitchen, stroller leading, babies squirming, she was met with a chorus of shrill greetings from three generations of women. Her great grandmother "Gran" and grandmother "Nana" quickly stood from their stools at the edge of the wide kitchen island and rushed to coo at her babies while her mother walked around and hugged her.

Holding her slender shoulders, her mom leaned back and stared at her eldest daughter's face intently.

"What's the matter, honey?" she asked, concern written on her pretty face. She was still young, in her mid-30s, and looked more like her sister than her mom.

Yvette tried to keep her composure, but when her Gran and Nana, straightened to look at her with concern, she started to cry.

In gargling hiccupy sobs, she told them about Tyler losing his job, that she was worried about how they'd pay the rent, pay their bills and put food on the table. Yet another worry was that their apartment lease was up at the end of the week. They'd been preparing to renew it, but now they probably wouldn't be able to afford it.

The three older women started talking at the same time, trying to comfort her, each of them offered to take them all in when suddenly Grampa's deep gravelly voice spoke from the living room.

"The boy can work for me," he said loudly, over the voices of the three chattering women and the sobbing young mother.

The room went quiet as all four women turned to face the old man.

"I built a cabin on my land for my foreman and his family, but he up and quit on me," the old man continued, still too loud. "He got another job and is gonna move out of state in six months."

The four women watched silently as he stood up from the couch and limped to the kitchen entrance to glare at them.

"I need someone to take his place and part of the deal is that you get to live in the new cabin," he continued after a moment. "It's got all the bells and whistles and he'll still get a paycheck, but he's gonna have to work hard to earn it."

Yvette looked at the old man in astonishment, a hopeful expression on her lovely tear-streaked face. She knew he owned a farm about an hour's drive away. She knew he also raised and bred horses and cattle, but hearing him offer her husband a job and her young family a place to live left her speechless.

Grampa stared at the young woman. She looked so much like his Alice at her age that they could've been twins, big boobs and all. He sighed with sudden sadness at the thought of his wife Alice, dead now almost ten years. They'd had a good run. Why'd she have to go and leave him all alone?

After several minutes of silence, he began to shift his weight from foot to foot, waiting for some sort of response, but the women stayed quiet.

"That's why I came by, to see if any of you knew someone who needed a job and a place to live," he said nervously. "He'll have six months to learn from my old foreman and then he'll be in charge. I'm too old to do it myself."

In a sudden squawking rush, the kitchen sounded like a disturbed henhouse as all four women began to talk at once. Yvette's radiant smile and eager nod told him all he needed to know.

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Yvette called and urged her husband to meet her at her mother's house where Grampa officially offered him the job, man to man. Tyler was just as excited and relived as she was and readily accepted.

He towered half a head over the bent old man, but the grip as they shook hands on the deal was like a steel vice that made the bones of the young man's hand grind together before the old man released it.

Tyler knew the value of a firm handshake and looked into the old man's eyes to try to convey his gratitude and to show him he was a man of his word, that he would work hard and be someone he could depend on.

Grampa nodded in satisfaction and understanding, reading everything he needed to know in the young man's handshake and direct eye contact. Maybe his foreman leaving had been for the best.

Time would tell, he thought.

The young couple packed up their belongings and moved into their new place that weekend. Running from room to room, holding hands, oohing and ahhing at every new discovery, they were on cloud nine. Their new home was so much bigger and better than their old apartment.

The old man watched their antics tolerantly, a tiny smile pulling at the right side of his mouth.

"Enjoy this weekend, boy, you won't have many more like it," Grampa told Tyler. "You start Monday. Be up and ready to go by five a.m. and I'll take you over to meet my foreman."

"Wait, what?!" Tyler squeaked through a suddenly dry throat. "Did you say five a clock?"

"That's right," the old man said with a smirk. "You got a lot to learn and we don't have much time."

Tyler nodded dumbly.

"Get settled in," Grampa said gruffly. "This is your home now. You can do whatever you want to with it, just don't break shit."

Then the old man spun on his heel and walked briskly out the door. He looked ancient but he didn't move like a decrepit old man, his movements were brisk and precise and his brain and wit were as just as sharp.

They watched him through the window as he walked to the farm's main house only 50 yards away from their new home. Another 50 yards or so beyond were a series of barns and pens.

They looked at each other, each holding a child in their arms, and smiled excitedly.

Early that Monday morning Tyler left the house, sluggish and groggy from a poor night's sleep. It was his first day as a farmer and though he felt up to the challenge, he was nervous and hadn't been able to sleep.

Yvette saw him to the door with their newborn cradled carefully in her slender arms. She'd draped a tiny blanket over the baby as she suckled at her breast. She knew it made her young husband uncomfortable and embarrassed to see her breastfeed. It was one of the most natural things in the world but he always turned away or left the room when she nursed the baby.

She gave him a one-armed hug, pecked his lips and slapped his rump to see him off.

His world would be new and exciting and hers would be just the same as before, only in a new place.

Yvette sighed, turned around, went back in the house and sat on her rocking chair... more like a glide chair. The deeply cushioned wooden contraption didn't rock back and forth on two round wooden rails, it glided smooth and easy.

She pulled the blanket away and looked down at the tiny pink face. Her heart contracted in her chest at the flood of emotion she felt when she looked at the miniature person in her arms, at the feeling of pure love that flooded her entire being.

The tiny hands were tightly clenched, squeezing each side of her massive boob, her cheeks were drawn in and her entire body bobbed as she gulped the sweet milk flooding her mouth.

Yvette grasped a tiny arm and placed her pinky finger in the baby's hand, watching the grip tighten around her smallest finger.

She rocked back and forth gently, crooning a nonsense tune, caressed the fine silky hair on her baby's head and breathed in her unique baby scent, redolent of milk, talcum powder and fresh bread.

After a few minutes, she pulled the baby away, her mouth unlatching with a tiny wet slurp, flipped her to her other side, and just as the baby started to whimper in indignation at being denied her rightful boob, she turned her head and her rooting mouth immediately found her mother's other fat nipple and latched on with a gentle sigh of satisfaction.

Fifteen minutes later, after changing a wet and stinky diaper, she put the deeply sleeping baby in a white, lattice bassinet in the bedroom.

As usual, Yvette was involuntarily aroused afterwards. Her nipples were incredibly sensitive. She'd read somewhere that some women lost all sensation in their nipples when they breastfed, but she wasn't one of them. If anything they were even more sensitive than they'd been before she got pregnant.

She felt a sense of shame and embarrassment at her body's involuntary reaction yet she needed relief.

Just as she quietly took a step towards the bathroom to root in the box where she'd hidden her small slender vibrator, her other daughter trotted into the room with a high-pitched squeal of delight, startling the sleeping baby and sending her into wails of fright and indignation.

"Honey, I told you to be quiet in the morning," Yvette chastised her daughter.

Tears filled the child's eyes and she started to wail along with her baby sister.

And so another average day started for Yvette.

She spent the day emptying boxes, putting away the family belongings, putting everything to rights. She also cooked and cleaned, and every three hours or so sat on her rocking chair and breastfed the baby. It was tiring work, never-ending and, as much as she loved her kids, mind-numbingly tedious.

She'd barely given birth two weeks before and yet their lives had changed so much since.

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On their third day there, Tyler left even earlier that morning and she and the kids were working on developing a new routine. At around 10 a.m. she strapped the baby in her carrier, latched it onto the stroller, pulled the sunshade up, grabbed her toddler's hand and went outside to let her romp in the yard and hopefully work out some of her nearly inexhaustible energy.

Yvette was so absorbed with her children that she didn't even glance at her great-great-grandfather's house only 50 yards away or so.

The old man sat on a rocking chair in the wraparound porch, enjoying the cool breeze and admiring the fine view of his land as he always did, even on rainy days.

He'd been staring pensively into the distance with a cup of black coffee in his hands, his soul hollow with loneliness, when he heard the door to the cabin open. There was a high-pitched squeal of joy then the clatter of clomping tiny little feet as his great-great-great-granddaughter rushed out of the house, crossed the porch and ran for it like an escaped prisoner, giggling manically with joy.

The old man smiled wide, revealing large crooked yellow teeth and two dark holes where teeth should've been, a lower right and a lower left canine.

He watched as Yvette came into sight, pushed a lever down on the stroller, probably the brake, and trotted awkwardly after the toddler. She wore a snug yellow nursing dress that allowed her to maintain her modesty and yet gave her the ability to pull out a breast to nurse her infant when the need arose.

Grampa, sat up straight, eyes widening as the slim curvy girl with such enormous tits ran after the child. His eyes nearly popped out of his head at the sight of all that tit-flesh bouncing, swaying and quivering, at her long shapely legs churning and slim arms pumping in her efforts to catch up to the little one.

She finally caught her, picked her up and started back toward where she'd left the stroller on the covered porch. The toddler squirmed and started to scream and cry, waking the newborn in her carrier and sending her into paroxysms of frightened squalling.

She hurriedly put the toddler down and stood clutching her dull hair in frustration.

Grampa strained higher in his chair and watched in disbelief as dark wet circles appeared in the front of the young mother's dress, as her enormous milk-filled breasts let down and milk started to flow. In seconds, the front of her dress was drenched and the toddler was off again in another daring escape attempt.

He stared for another few seconds, admiring the way the soaked dress stuck wetly to the girl's body, showing off her amazing curves and reminding him that he hadn't lain with a woman in more than ten years. He felt himself harden but his ardor instantly cooled as he stood and clopped down the porch stairs to run after the child.

Frustrated, Yvette stared after the fleeing child then leaned down to pull the screaming infant from the carrier and cradled her high on her chest. She'd just nursed and wasn't ready to eat but she considered offering her a nipple to quiet her down.

Yvette looked up again to stare after the running child, wondering what to do and noticed Grampa shuffle down the porch stairs, trot after the girl, catch her and toss her into the air, to the toddler's great delight.

He tossed her up again, enjoying the high pitched giggles it produced.

When he moved to set her on her feet, the child clung to him like a leech and said "again, again," so he straightened and tossed her high again half a dozen more times.

In the meantime, Yvette turned her back, pulled out her left boob, which was full of milk, pressed her baby's face against it until the infant turned her head and latched on, and then she pulled a blanket from the carrier and covered herself and the baby.

As always, the stimulation to her nipples aroused her but as usual she ignored it.

When she turned back around, Grampa had set the toddler on her feet and was trotting after her making snorting growling noises. She ran giggling from him, her fat little legs churning tirelessly.

Finally, the toddler pitched face first onto the grass, her face was flushed red and her tiny chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath.

The old man scooped her up and carried her smiling back to her mother.

The child squirmed weakly wanting to do it again but the old man swung her up and sat her on his stooped shoulders where she gripped a jug ear with one tiny hand, slapped his bald liver-spotted head with the other and kicked her tiny legs in delight at the new adventure while he held her firm with twisted arthritic hands.

"Oh my god, Grampa, thank you so much," Yvette said with a wide smile filled with relief and gratitude. "It probably would've taken me all day to catch her if you hadn't stopped by."