Chapter 206: They Are Going to Get Bigger?!
"Yes, that bad!" I glared at her, flustered by the sudden wetness, the way it trickled warmly down my skin. "Ana, look what you did! It’s... it’s everywhere now."
She didn’t pull away—instead, she rubbed her thumb over the soaked fabric, smearing the milk teasingly, her touch turning the mess into something deliberate, sensual. "Mmm, see? Already leaking for me like a good girl. That’s the milk working its magic—sweet, creamy perfection, making you so slick and responsive. Bigger breasts mean more of this, fuller and ready to burst at my command. Feel how it eases the pressure? That’s the benefit—relief and pleasure, all in one."
"And you’re saying they’re going to get bigger?" My voice hitched, torn between shock and the undeniable thrill sparking through my veins, my body arching into her hand despite myself.
"A bit? Try a lot lusher." She looked wickedly entertained, her free hand lifting the hem of my shirt just enough to expose the damp, glistening curve of my breast to the cool air. Her gaze devoured it.
"You are a pervert!"
"Only for you, Emily."
"Shut up!"
"Not dramatically overnight, but enough to fill my hands, my mouth perfectly. Imagine them heavier, rounder, milk flowing freely at a touch—benefits like that natural glide between us, that addictive taste driving me insane. You’ll be dripping for days."
"I already notice enough—too much," I whimpered, but I didn’t stop her.
"I know, love." Her tone softened to velvet, but her grip stayed possessive, thumb flicking the wet nipple lightly. "That’s why you need better support—proper bras to cradle this growing fullness. Nursing pads for these delicious leaks. But god, the way it just came out for me, warm and ready? Pure temptation. Let me help with the ache."
I made a scandalized noise, half-moan. "You say that so calmly, like you’re not unravelling me."
"Because I’m dying to taste it properly." Her laugh was husky, throaty, as she leaned in, lips brushing the damp spot before her tongue darted out for a quick, shocking lick. "Sweet as I imagined."
"You are absolutely laughing on the inside—and perving harder than ever."
Ana’s smile widened, feral now. "Guilty as charged. Fuller breasts, endless milk benefits... you’re my walking, leaking fantasy. Want me to squeeze the other side? Even it out?"
I huffed and shifted again, hyper-aware of the sticky warmth cooling on my skin, my belly pressing insistently between us, my chest throbbing with new, insistent intensity—the milk’s release leaving me lighter but hornier.
"My back already hurts from the weight. My breasts are sore and now messy. My clothes keep getting ruined—now this leak. What else is coming?"
"More fatigue to keep you nestled here," she murmured, her mouth trailing kisses along my neck as her thumb wiped a fresh droplet, then brought it to her lips, sucking it clean with a moan, eyes locked on mine like a predator.
I rolled my eyes at her. "You like this too much, don’t you?"
"Of course, I do."
"What about my sensitivity?"
"More sensitivity—especially here, where one touch makes you soak. More hunger—for food, for me. Maybe ankle swelling. All of it making those breasts even fuller, milkier, begging for my attention."
I looked at her in horror—and raw arousal, my breath coming faster. "You list that like it’s a gift, not a tidal wave."
"It is—for both of us. Every change makes you sexier." Her laugh was low and warm as she kissed my cheek, nuzzling into my hair. "You’re doing so well, though. Carrying our future, body adapting like a goddess."
I blinked up at her, vulnerable. "I am? Even with all this?"
"Yes." She brushed her thumb lightly across my lower belly, feeling a kick, then trailed it back to my breast, cupping it reverently. "Crying jags, leaking shirts, back pain that has you wincing, constant complaining—you handle it like a queen. And now this milk, proof of how perfectly your body’s blooming? You’re flawless."
"That sounded like an insult wrapped in silk."
"Praise with heat—and truth." She kissed me then, slow and deep, tasting faintly of me.
I stared at her for a long moment, face burning, then let my forehead rest against her shoulder, half embarrassed, half comforted by the way she held me—strong arms cradling my weight.
Her fingers continued to smooth over my back in firm, careful strokes, easing the soreness there amid the teasing. That was the worst part: she made every complaint feel smaller, hotter, more manageable just by being so calm, so devoted.
"And if my breasts get bigger," I muttered into her shoulder, voice muffled, "you are not allowed to sound happy about it. No squeezing for fun."
She was quiet for a heartbeat, then I heard the unmistakable amusement—and desire—in her voice. "No promises, sweetheart. Not when they’re this full already."
I lifted my head immediately, swatting her arm weakly. "Ana!"
"What?" she asked with wide, innocent eyes, even as her hand squeezed lightly again—drawing a tiny fresh leak that trickled down her fingers. She licked it off slowly, deliberately.
"You are the most perverted doctor I have ever met. Squeezing milk out like it’s your personal treat."
She laughed, soft and satisfied, pulling me closer for another kiss on my temple, her body heat chasing away the chill. "And yet you’re still sitting in my lap, leaking for me, trusting me completely."
"That is because I trust you—against my better judgment."
"Good," she said, voice dropping to a promise. "Because I’m going to keep taking care of you—every sore muscle, every full curve, every drop."
I grumbled something incoherent, but my body relaxed fully against hers anyway, melting into the safety of her hold. She was right. My chest was sore and now slick.
My back ached relentlessly. My body felt fuller, heavier, more demanding than ever—pregnancy turning every sensation louder, more intimate, more impossible to ignore.
But being held by Ana, teased mercilessly by her, milked and reassured, made even the uncomfortable parts feel thrillingly alive.
