Witless Protection Program

"It's one of the wildest things I've ever experienced," I said, "I had no idea I could do that. Honestly, this was a wonderful way to find out because ordinarily I'd have been horrified and scared, because I'm not pregnant and I'm pretty sure this isn't supposed to happen, but instead it feels more like a special power."

"I'm really happy I could make it special for you," she said, which I thought was going to be the end of our interaction, given that she'd already stayed a lot longer than we'd paid her for and she had to be missing out on lucrative dances with the rest of the club's well-to-do clientele.

"You don't have to stay here with me. I mean, thank you, but really I'm okay, and I'll legit always treasure this."

"No, I think I'm done. I'm going to leave that as my last dance."

"Really? Did you start early tonight? It doesn't seem very late."

"No, I mean, my last dance forever. I start an internship tomorrow, and I would have had to stop for a while soon anyway. This is the best possible send-off."

"Really? You're giving up stripping?" I said, wide-eyed. "I'm honoured to be your last!"

"Well, I enjoy it so depending on what I decide to do with my boobs, I might drop in now and again when I get the urge or I want some extra cash, but yeah, that will be my last dance for a while."

"Do with your boobs?" I echoed.

"You don't want to hear about that," she said apologetically.

"No, I do!" I insisted.

"Well, I actually have implants. Mostly to correct asymmetry, because my regular boobs are already pretty big," she interpolated, "But they're kind of cheap because I got them from a shitty Mexican doctor. I mean, there's plenty of good Mexican doctors if you know how to find them, understand, but I didn't know then and I relied on my pendejo cousin in Juárez who claimed he did."

"They look good, though," I said.

"Yeah," she said, sending me a friendly smile in acknowledgment of my support, but continued, "The problem is, there's something going on with the one on the right. It's less full and like it's got a weird ripple in it that's fucking with me. Anyway, I got the money and the connections now to get it done right, but I think I'm just going to have them taken out and live with lopsided tits. At least then if some shithead asks if I'm augmented I can truthfully tell them I'm not."

She sounded a little bitter, and I impulsively gave her a hug, which seemed to remind her of my giant tits.

"Can I ask how you got so big? I didn't feel anything like normal implants in there."

"Um, I guess you could say I have an experimental new thing."

"What are they made out of?" she asked.

"Well, me. I don't actually have implants or anything. These are just my breasts."

"Really? That's crazy! I think I heard something about that, but holy shit, what impressive results!"

"Well, I was also already pretty big," I said, trying to recall exactly how big I'd been before, and how much was attributable to the various mob-backed changes that weren't covered by the terms of the REDOWL nondisclosure agreement. "But I'm definitely bigger now."

"What are you planning on doing with them?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, I assume you got giant tits for a good reason," Angel pointed out honestly.

"Maybe not a good reason," I laughed. "It's still experimental, so I don't think anyone expected me to get this big."

"Oh," she said, sobered, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I like it," I said, trying to put her at ease. It wasn't entirely a lie, either, though I would have felt very differently if I didn't have the reassurance that the growth would be easily reversed once REDOWL finished its business. Or perhaps not easily, given that it would take several rounds of careful treatment, but my research had buttressed my confidence that it could be done, especially if I could get myself hired into a lab working in the field.

"I like it too," she said with a friendly smile, and jokingly tugged one of the nipples that my stretchy top failed to suppress.

I swatted her hand with a laugh, but I had to restrain myself from trying to make out with her. I might have done it anyway if Nikki hadn't returned with some greasy pub food and started chatting with Angel about the strip club scene.

The Creamery

The Squad politely refrained from interrogating me about my newfound lactatory prowess while we were at the club, but as soon as we left they wanted to know all about it. I told them everything I knew, which was very little, and confirmed that it felt absolutely heavenly. Somehow or other this graduated into the girls egging each other on to take a taste direct from the tap, at least until Andrea returned from a trip to the corner shop and asked them if they'd gotten my consent before making free of my udders. I defended them saying that it was quite alright, though I would appreciate being asked in the future, but I think that might actually have made them feel worse about it.

Things still seemed a little awkward in the morning and they were apologizing still, which was the worst. So, I made light of it and half-seriously offered to milk myself into their morning coffee to show that I wasn't bothered. Nikki actually took me up on it, and I was surprised to discover that it made me feel good even in a non-sexual way, partly because it really helped lighten up my breasts to unload some of the thick sweet cream I was producing.

"I think that's why my breasts have been feeling a little tight lately," I said as I expressed myself into a tin while the Squad pretended not to watch.

"Maybe you should get a pump," Jade suggested.

"Do you think her nipples would fit into any kind of normal shield?" Brandy asked.

"No," Jade said, "But maybe there's a way to make an adapter or something.

"Shit," I swore when I noticed I'd been missing the tin with my left breast, "I'm making a terrible mess. I can't quite see what I'm doing."

"I could milk you!" Nikki said helpfully as she wiped up the puddle to stop it dribbling on the floor.

It's a measure of how my sense of modesty had shifted that I immediately and gladly accepted her inartful offer, and just smiled somewhat vaguely as she made cow jokes. Also it just felt really good. Sensual, but also relaxing, and at the end my brain was buzzing in a pleasant way. "Thank you," I told her when she had squirted my full load of milk production into the tin, and made my way back to my room with the intent to relieve myself of my now-pressing need for an orgasm or two.

I vaguely recall Andrea accompanying me to help, but once she started manipulating my breasts like she had learned to do during the clinical trial, my brain might as well have shut down. I woke from a post-O nap later feeling great and clear, though, and I had one of my most productive research days in some time.

I'm embarrassed to admit that I'd been back home for weeks before I recalled that I was supposed to be contributing to rent and necessary expenses, but after having everything taken care of at the clinic I'd just forgotten about that very basic responsibility. The Squad, of course, was too kind to remind me.

"I should pay, though," I argued with Jade when she refused my attempts to pay in arrears.

"No, we're doing fine for money now, and yours was the only account we haven't gotten back," she said.

"But I have money now! I should contribute my bit."

"And you should keep it," Jade said relentlessly. "Besides, you have been contributing."

"What, cooking every now and again?" I asked skeptically.

"No, by making milk. It's selling well."

"Really? People are buying my milk?" I tried to remember if someone had told me that they were selling my milk.

"Yes, and for a decent price too," Jade assured me.

"I still think we could do better if we made treats out of it," Kayley said, ever the entrepreneur.

"Surely, but how do you think Bubbles would feel about it?" Jade said, pursing her lips. Evidently Jade and Kayley already had a private argument on the topic. "Besides, it's not like she makes enough for it to be economical.

"I'd be proud to do something like that," I said, partly to make Kayley feel better and partly because I agreed that I could hardly produce enough for it to make business sense.

"See? Bubbles is down for it. Her production has increased enough that I think it pencils out already, and if she keeps improving we could make a real profit."

"Really?" I asked, shocked.

"Yeah! Isn't that neat?" Nikki said, ever the cheerleader. "You could own your own business! I volunteer as your first employee!"

"That's not how employment works," Kayley said, rolling her eyes, "But if you like the idea, I bet you could make really good money."

The sequence of my emotions upon being presented with this degrading, then empowering business opportunity was complex and confused, but the infectiousness of Nikki's eager enthusiasm decided the conclusion. "Okay! Sounds worth a try!"

On Our Own

The next few weeks went by in a flurry of culinary experimentation and quite a lot of manual milking. My production increased a bit more before plateauing at a bit shy of our two liter a day goal. Nevertheless, it was quite impressive for any single woman, and enough to make about 14 liters of ice cream per week. That parceled out into nearly 250 ice cream cookies that we thought would sell for $8 each.

Then came the challenge of getting the relevant permits and licenses in order. As I was thoroughly ill-equipped for this work, it fell largely to Kayley and Jade, who had signed on at least nominally to make sure that the other girls didn't make a botch of it, but also because the concept of providing me with a profitable business seemed to tickle her fancy.

The difficulty, however, came when the mobsters caught wind of the scheme. They pretended to be helpful at first, and perhaps they even were - certainly health approvals from the city came faster than I'd expected - but then they tried to insist on providing various services, and the girls had no trouble foreseeing how this would quickly become a vice around any small business.

Instead of closing up shop or otherwise accepting the inevitable, however, the whole Squad got together and agreed that we would once again pick up and move, leaving behind our beautiful flat and its reasonable rent. Kayley would almost certainly lose some brand sponsorships, and Jade would have to find a new beauty shop, and all the others would also be impacted in one way or another, but they all agreed that it was the best thing to do if we ever wanted to be free of future mafia interference.

It was very expensive, and we had to borrow money on top of selling some valuables to pay back some debts and leave the mobsters a goodwill payment, but we did it. We were even more packed afterwards, but at least I didn't feel like I was missing out on my research as much because I was so busy with Bubbles Bar Ltd. that I had no time for research.

I felt like many of us had all taken a real risk to support me, so I did my absolute best to produce for them, and with Andrea's help, I increased my production a little more, to almost 350 ice cream cookies a week, in turn nearly $3k of product, if we could sell it all at the rather dear price we'd selected.

Now that we were on our own, I felt like my tits were our biggest allies. Literally.

-Growth-

The Shop

We ran into a distribution issue from the start. If we tried to sell from a cart according to our permit, we got many potential customers, but they weren't often willing to pay $8 for our novelty item, and if we sold other ice cream products alongside them, we couldn't carry many of the far higher-profit Bubble Bars. Meanwhile we had many people who expressed interest in buying bars but didn't want to come hunt for the cart. Add to that the fact that me pushing around the cart caused more commotion than commerce, and I felt the cart approach was not sustainable. We were making a profit, but it was painful and many bars were going to waste.

So we agreed to make the decision to open a physical storefront. There was a tiny little place, formerly a miniature lunch counter in a district near the waterfront that had once been a post-industrial blight but was fast becoming trendy. Just the sort of place where people out for a night on the town might go for a curious treat, and despite its relative smallness, it still had enough space to accommodate our equipment and a few workers divided between the counter, till, and back room. It would also allow us to make various flavours on the spot rather than just having prepackaged vanilla and chocolate bars.

It was a big upfront cost, but again the Squad came through for me. Brandy took out an additional student loan and then re-lent the money to me. Amber invested her entire quarterly sales bonus. Jade couldn't spare any money, but she did devote several hours a day to creating or choosing shop decor. Nikki, I suspected, took a few escort clients to generate extra cash, though she pretended that it was ForFans tips to try to avoid making me feel guilty. Kayley endorsed my product in her Insta posts and designed the shop's website. After Andrea's receptionist shifts she joined me in the shop for as many hours as she could manage splitting her time between helping me refurbish the shop itself and helping to coax the last full measure of milk out of my breasts by helping me to better orgasms.

With such overwhelming trust and support, I felt it was the least I could do to pawn my laptop to pay for a fancy used milker with attachments that could fit my enormous nips. It saved a lot of labour time and allowed me to get much more done. If it all went off well, I'd be able to get another soon enough.

My newfound skill with power tools was a pleasant surprise. Because of my enormous boobs it often required some awkward positioning to employ those skills, but I at least seemed to know what to do. Even if I often couldn't see precisely what was happening beyond the curve of my bosom.

It was a tremendous amount of work and worry, but finally, Bubble's Best Ice Cream Boutique opened for business.

None of my disaster scenarios came to pass. Shepherded by Andrea, who proved to be an unexpected well of expertise on the matter, the health inspectors gave us a perfect grade. With the word spread by Kayley, we had plenty of customers right from the start, and while a few weren't willing to try breast milk ice cream, the shop had a small variety of high-quality conventional ice creams as well, so we could reliably find something for everyone in the group. Though mobsters did show up, there didn't appear to be any hard feelings and were very convivial after being offered a few "free samples" which they insisted on paying for anyway, along with a large tip. Perhaps it had something to do with me coming out of the kitchen to serve them myself and accidentally dropping a little ice cream on my boob and licking it off while they watched. Such simple creatures.

The Cow

Success did lead to one problem I hadn't quite anticipated: I simply couldn't produce enough milk. We tried adding regular milk to the recipe, but found that mixing in more than a tiny amount yielded an ice cream that, though rich and delicious, lacked the trademark mixture of fluffiness and creaminess that set Bubbles Brand Ice Cream apart. Then we decided to explore buying breast milk from local mothers, but not only did this seem likely to be quite expensive, the results were also not good. There was something unique to my milk that made Bubbles Brand better.

"We could get you domperidone," Brandy suggested when other alternatives proved unhelpful.

"What's that?" I asked.

"It's a medicine that makes you produce more milk."

"Oh. Are there side effects?" I asked.

"Well," Brandy said with a wry smile, "Two common ones are mammoplasia and amenorrhea. That is, they can make your boobs bigger and stop your menstrual cycle."

I started. When had I last had my period? It had been a while so I was probably due, but I hadn't felt especially bloated recently. "I think lactating might already be giving me that. Amenorrhea."

Brandy blinked. "I guess that makes sense. It does that naturally after pregnancy."

I laughed a little nervously, recalling all the ways in which pregnancy would complicate any future efforts to restore my old body. At this point I had almost no idea what I had looked like before, but I still held fast to the idea that I would be allowed to go back to a more normal life with a more normal body instead of everything revolving around my body in general and my tits in specific. I shook my head slightly to clear my mind and focus on the issue at hand, which was about making my boobs and even bigger part of my life, perhaps literally. It was difficult to imagine them being even bigger. They were already so huge that they could be seen clearly from every angle, including from the rear with both arms at my sides. It was no way to look at me without my appearance being dominated by my rack.

Not that a smaller bust would necessarily change my presentation very much. Besides by bimbo bust, I also had bimbo lips, bimbo lashes, a big bimbo bum, wore bimbo platforms, and bimbo nails, and bimbo clothes, and even had a bimbo brain at times. As long as I was Bubbles, it was useless to resist the bimbo designation. I was a bimbo literally any way one looked at me. If I made my boobs bigger and more productive, it might make me more of a cow, but it couldn't make me more of a bimbo than I already was.

"Sure, that sounds a good idea," I said.

"I'm not sure exactly how to get it for you, but I'm sure I can find out," Brandy said.

"I bet I can get it from the clinic," Andrea said confidently.

"No, don't do anything risky," I told her. "Let's see if Brandy can find it."

"Oh," Brandy said, disappointed. "I thought that was an awfully good idea. But you're right. Let's not give the mobsters any ideas on how to get back into our business."

As luck would have it, Angel visited the shop the very next day, looking less sultry but even more beautiful in everyday makeup and a smart dress.

"Angel!" said excitedly when I saw her, and left the back area to wait on her personally.

"Honey!" she said, "Or should I call you Bubbles?"

I shrugged. "Either is good. You look great! How are things going? Have you already..." I looked at her breasts to indicate that I was talking about the removal of her implants. In her dress, she actually looked even bustier than she had before, but I was pretty sure that was a side effect of a clever cut and panels that slimmed her waistline.

She laughed, "Yeah, they're long gone, since that weekend, actually. But you know what's crazy? They actually grew afterwards, like they wanted the fill in the pockets or something. They're bigger than they started, and symmetrical now! Would you believe it?" she laughed again.

I found that unsettling, but Angel was clearly very pleased with the outcome, so I mirrored her enthusiasm back to her.

"I feel like your milk was a good omen or a blessing or something. Is this your breast milk?"

I nodded, proud and embarrassed at the same time.

"Wow. You must be, like, really productive."

"Yeah, but we still sell out all the time. I'm actually trying to get this drug they use to increase lactation to try to produce more."

"Really? Why don't you just buy it from mothers with extra?"

I shrugged. "The economics doesn't work, and also it doesn't really churn right, maybe because of the preservation process."

Angel looked up from my breasts when they finally stopped wobbling in the wake of my shrug. "I guess that makes sense. I guess your doctor doesn't accept the explanation that you want to make more ice cream as a valid medical condition?"