Chapter 152: Ways to Deal with Lactating Breasts (Slight R18)
"Dr. Ana, I’m leaking milk constantly now—it’s nonstop, soaking everything!" I complained, shifting uncomfortable in the wheelchair, my red shirt already darkening with fresh wet patches across my swollen chest, green pants hugging my plush thighs snug.
I am getting tired of this bullshit.
"Not constantly, Emily—let’s be precise," Dr. Ana replied calm professional from her desk, cyan ponytail swaying as she tapped her tablet, desert-oasis scent spiking faint under clinical mask. "More like eight solid times a day, give or take."
"Eight times a day is constantly! My shirts are ruined daily!" I huffed, face heating as I tugged the damp fabric away from my sensitive peaks, ponytail loose and wild like Rapunzel’s—hair spilling endless raven waves past my hips to pool on my lap.
"You’ll have to endure it, plain and simple. The therapy wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns—your heat cycle made you lose your mind feral for days. I saw you myself, writhing with those toys, cumming endless." Her voice stayed matter-of-fact, but eyes flicked appraising to my curves.
"Doctor! Have some control—don’t say it like that!" I blushed harder scarlet, hands flying to cover my cheeks, wheelchair creaking as I leaned back mortified. It’d been a full week since waking fully, body still adjusting heavy.
"Emily, facts are facts—you’ll endure. It’s your new omega normal now."
"But it feels so heavy all the time, like they’re aching full—please, there’s got to be something," I pleaded soft, cupping my breasts instinctive, feeling the warm pulse beneath palms.
"If it’s that heavy, milk them yourself—express it regular," Dr. Ana said direct, leaning forward elbows on desk. "Use your hands or the breast pump I’ll prescribe. Relieves pressure fast."
"What?!" I squeaked shock, emerald eyes wide. "Milk them? Like... myself?"
"You heard right. Hands work fine—gentle circles, tugs till it flows. Or pump for efficiency—hospital-grade, quiet model."
"Breast pump?! Okay, but... what do I even do with the milk after? Store it? Throw it out?" I pressed flustered, ponytail slipping over one shoulder silky.
Dr. Ana paused, cyan bangs falling slight as cheeks pinked rare. "Well..."
"Doctor, don’t blush now—I’m not here to admire your beautiful blush, focus!" I teased light despite my own flush, wheels rolling forward nudge.
She cleared throat, regaining poise. "You can drink it, technically. Nutritious, hormone-rich—omegas do it sometimes. And... you’ve got experience tasting slick, right? Similar vibe."
"Doctor! You’re a total pervert saying that out loud!" My face turned redder fire, hands waving frantic as milk beaded fresh through red cotton.
"Emily, you asked—I’m just answering clinical!"
"Now I don’t wanna know—ugh, forget it!"
"We could use my hands to help demonstrate proper technique, if you’re unsure," she offered smooth, lavender scent sweetening curious.
"Shut up! Total pervert—stop!" I squealed, wheeling back bump against wall.
"I’m not—it’s medical advice!"
"You are!"
"Emily, enough!"
"You are! Pervert doctor!"
Suddenly, Dr. Ana stood swift—chair scraping skree—cyan ponytail whipping as she rounded the desk fast, glasses glinting serious. Before I could wheel away, her hand cupped my jaw firm but tender, tilting my flushed face up precise.
"Emily..." she murmured low husky, scent flooding heady.
"Dr. Ana, wha—mmph!" My protest cut muffled as her lips crashed soft-full against mine—initial press clinical testing, then melting deeper warm velvet. Her free hand braced my wheelchair arm gentle, body leaning in close over me, scent wrapping intoxicating sterile-sweet.
Tongue flicked tentative at my seam—parting my gasp—then slipped honey-lavender smooth inside, exploring slow thorough—curling against mine teasing strokes, tasting my shy whimper, drawing faint jasmine moan unbidden.
Glasses bumped my forehead cool; her ponytail grazed my cheek ticklish silk; breath shared hot-panting through noses flaring.
Kiss stretched endless—gentle suction lower lip smack soft, then tilt-head deeper plunge, thumb stroking my jawline soothing as my hands fisted her white coat instinctive, omega core clenching slick distant throb.
She released reluctant—lips peeling slow schlick glossy strand breaking—leaving me out of breath hazy, chest heaving milk-leaking darker, emerald eyes dazed up at her flushed face.
"What... w-was that...?" I panted whisper, lips tingling swollen, ponytail mussed wild.
Dr. Ana exhaled shaky, adjusting her glasses with trembling fingers—cyan bangs askew, blush high on cheekbones. "I... I’m sorry, Emily. Lost control for a second there—your scent hit too strong post-therapy. Won’t happen again, promise."
"You..." I trailed soft, oddly sad ache blooming chest—wanting more unbidden, her taste lingering sweet.
She straightened brisk professional mask snapping back, grabbing her prescription pad scritch.
"You’re hereby prescribed the breast pump kit—double electric, hospital-grade—plus soothing creams, lactation tea bags for flow control, and mild suppressants if it overwhelms. Use daily, log times. We’ll monitor next week."
"That’s it..?"
She handed me the prescription papers with a firm grip, her fingers brushing mine briefly before she pulled back quick, still avoiding my wide emerald eyes that lingered hungry on her flushed face.
"Rest up now, Emily—see you at next check-in. Take it easy with the pump."
"Doctor, wait... is there any other thing I should know? I can’t do this regularly by myself, right? It’s too awkward alone," I pressed tentative, voice small in the wheelchair, loose hair spilling wild over my shoulders, red shirt clinging damp-heavy to my swollen chest.
Dr. Ana paused at her desk, cyan ponytail swaying as she exhaled slow—lavender-sterile scent spiking sweeter, unprofessional. "There is another way... more effective, hands-on. But it’s... different."
Curiosity burned hotter than embarrassment. "Show me...?"’
She removed her specs deliberate click, setting them aside precise; cyan hair tumbled loose in soft waves framing her face sharp, eyes darkening behind the clinical mask cracking.
Kneeling fluid before my wheelchair—bringing her eye-level intimate—she began unbuttoning my soaked red shirt slow, fingers deft parting fabric pop-pop to bare my heavy, milk-glistening breasts, green pants taut over plush thighs below.
My breath hitched sharp—gasp—hands flying instinctive to cover the pearling droplets on pebbled dark areolas, but she caught my wrists gentle-firm, pinning them to the armrests with one hand, her touch electric clinical-warm.
"Doctor... wh-what are you—?"
"You wanted another way—this is it. Natural relief, most efficient," she murmured husky low, voice therapy-deep as lavender flooded heady.
Leaning in close—breath ghosting my skin goosebump—she latched soft over my left nipple—lips sealing velvet suction schluck, tongue flicking flat teasing the leaking peak coaxing flow.
Pressing her palm deliberate into the swollen curve—kneading rhythmic deep like dough rising—she milked steady squish-squirt, warm streams jetting direct into her eager mouth gulp-gulp rhythmic, swallowing audible around moans humming vibration through my core.
Moans spilled helpless from my throat—ahh-nngh—back arching wheelchair-bound as pleasure stabbed electric.
Her free hand cradling underside supportive, thumb circling areola outer firm to urge more release; switching nipples seamless pop-smack wet—right peak engulfed hotter suction suck-suck, teeth grazing faint scrape-safe, kneading harder now both breasts alternating milk-milk overflowing her kneads till chin glistened pearly.
Tongue swirled lazy thorough post-squirt, lapping clean slurp every stray droplet, glasses-free eyes locked mine hazy possessive—my hands free now fisting her loose cyan waves tugging needy, omega slick soaking pants green as hips bucked faint.
She pulled off reluctant schlick final—lips shiny, breath ragged—wiping chin backhand casual as milk slowed to beads. "See? Relief instant—alpha saliva helps suppress too. Repeat as needed... with them, or..."
