LACTOGENESIS III: 

THE ENDOCRINOLOGIST 
 
 Chris sat in the endocrinologist's office, watching impatiently as Dr. 
Ellis ("call me Sheila", she had said) pored over an imposing-looking 
stack of laboratory results. In the two weeks since she'd left the 
hospital, she'd visited this office three times, each time giving up 
what she thought was an inordinate amount of blood for tests and 
submitting to microscopic goings-over of her ever-changing body. At 
those times Chris had thought that Dr. Frankenmuth had had a gentler 
touch -- or maybe that was because Frankenmuth had been a man. 
 Chris thought back over those last two weeks. She remembered getting 
dressed the day of her discharge from the hospital. It was her first 
time in street clothes in almost a month. The outfit she had worn the 
day of the accident was a total loss, of course, but her neighbor Sherri 
had brought her outfits from Chris's apartment. Chris had tried to put 
on her undergarments, and laughed out loud at the result. She was still 
thin from the weight loss she'd experienced, so the panties were loose 
on her, but the bra was ridiculously small. She'd even checked the tag 
on it: sure enough, 34B. Her breasts had swollen to 36C by that time. 
She had had to forgo the bra for the trip home. She hadn't done that in 
some time, and reveled in the feel of the fabric of her blouse teasing 
her nipples as she moved. By the time she'd gotten home, they were so 
hard and sensitive they ached, and she was sure she'd have to change 
those too-big panties. 
 That first day home had been a one-woman orgy. Consumed with curiosity 
as to whether her gushing orgasm at the hands of Dr. Frankenmuth had 
been just a fluke, Chris couldn't wait to attain the privacy of her own 
apartment before seeing for herself. She'd thought about it in the 
hospital but was afraid someone coming for yet another blood sample 
would catch her in the act. She hadn't even unpacked her valise before 
dashing into the bedroom, stripping off her clothes, and going straight 
for her nightstand, where sure enough, the vibrator was just where she 
had left it. It was one of those G-spot vibrators with the bent tip, 
designed to hit that magic place within the vagina. She remembered that 
it had felt better than a standard bullet-shaped model, but she'd never 
achieved anything with it like the tsunami that had happened in her 
hospital room. Maybe that would change. 
 She lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. She felt the warmth and 
weight of her breasts as they pressed against her rib cage. They didn't 
spread out much, not as much as they used to. Not only were they getting 
bigger, they were getting firmer, too. She brushed her fingertips 
against her nipples, which were now a full three-quarters of an inch 
long and as big around as her little finger. A pins-and-needles feeling 
spread from the tips of each breast, down her tummy to her cunt. On 
impulse, she pinched both nipples between thumbs and forefingers and 
tugged. The tingles intensified, and she could feel herself getting wet. 
She began stroking, kneading, squeezing her breasts. She was amazed at 
the feeling -- the flesh didn't feel like what she was used to, and that 
was incredibly exciting for her. She returned to massaging her nipples, 
tracing slow circles around the wine-red areolae (they'd continued to 
darken during her stay in the hospital). She could feel her hips 
beginning to rise and fall of their own accord, so she clamped her legs 
tightly together to intensify the slow burn that was beginning in her 
clit. She pulled her nipples so hard that her breasts rose from their 
resting place, and that put her over the edge. A wave of ecstasy rolled 
across her body, and sure enough, the floodgates opened. Her legs were 
pressed so tightly together that her juice sprayed forcefully straight 
into the air and down into the mattress. She opened her eyes to find 
everything below her navel dripping wet. Oddly enough, her fingers were 
wet, too. She looked down at her breasts and was mildly shocked to find 
a yellowish fluid seeping slowly from her still-hard nipples. Her joy 
overcame her shock, though. She had just brought herself off without 
even having touched her clit. That was *really* unusual for her, and 
that first squirting orgasm hadn't been a fluke after all. Somehow she 
was now able to ejaculate. Chris remembered having seen a porn film 
featuring an actress named Fallon who shot juice from her pussy, and 
remembered how she'd been convinced she was only peeing. Now she knew 
better. 
 The session hadn't ended there, though. The vibrator had yet to be 
touched. Chris turned it on and guided it slowly along her waist and 
across the insides of her thighs, feeling the vibrations merge with the 
trembling of her muscles. She reached her clit and pressed the head of 
the vibrator just above the hood. Suddenly she felt an overpowering urge 
to have that thing inside her. She flung her legs wide and with a single 
motion buried it to the hilt in her sopping wet snatch. The bent tip was 
facing forward, and Chris felt it nudge a swollen area of tissue deep 
within her vagina. She came immediately, and more forcefully than 
before. 
 She felt hot liquid splash along her calves as she rode the crest of 
the wave. When she came down, she saw that the fluid from her distended 
nipples had formed rivulets that coursed down into her armpits, and her 
bedclothes were wet all the way to the foot of her bed. Lost in the 
wonder of the fantastic and as yet unexplained changes that had happened 
to her body, Chris masturbated for hours that day, eventually losing 
count of her orgasms, each of which produced liquid both above and 
below, but in ever-decreasing amounts until she was finally spent. And 
very thirsty. 
 Those two weeks had brought on numerous repeats of this activity. Chris 
was completely taken up in reveling in this new body of hers, which had 
continued to change. She became more svelte; her skin, loosened by the 
weight loss, tightened around a tummy that was now washboard flat. Her 
hips became more defined. Her bush had proliferated considerably, to the 
point where Chris decided to shave it completely off. *That* had been 
quite an experience; she barely had kept from nicking herself with her 
shaking hands. The sight of her bald beaver had so excited her that 
she'd had three orgasms in rapid succession from only the slightest of 
manipulations. By then she had learned to put a plastic drop cloth on 
the bed. Her breasts continued to change. They now leaked this same 
yellowish fluid more often, not just at orgasm. They also continued to 
grow and get firmer. Chris had had to make two trips to the store for 
bras as she continued to outgrow them. She finally seemed to level off 
at 38D, but she was having to use the last set of hooks and even those 
cups seemed a trifle confining. 
 Her thoughts returned to the present, for Sheila had completed her 
examination of the lab results and was looking up at her.