I was hyper-aware of my nipples bulging against my skimpy top as I walked through the park, and I wasn’t the only one. A handful of people had openly stared as they passed me on my evening stroll; one man had licked his lips so hungrily it made me shiver. The attention had me dripping wet, but it still couldn’t distract me from the odd feeling that had been building in my nipples all evening, a sort of hot, tingling ache.
Of course, aching nipples were to be expected. I’d been pumping my nipples until they were red and swollen and posting pictures of myself playing with them online at a frequency that left them almost constantly sore. But I loved having strangers message to tell me what they would do if they got their hands (or mouths) on my heavy tits and sensitive nipples. I especially loved getting messages about what they would do if my breasts ever filled with milk from all the pumping. Inducing that way a long shot, but a girl can dream, and she can definitely get off on chatting with strangers about that dream.
A few weeks earlier, one of these online strangers had messaged and offered to send me toys for nipple play in exchange for fulfilling his picture requests. As the packages had arrived in my P.O. box, he’d instructed me to send him pictures of myself using various new clamps and videos of my nipples being aggressively stretched in the heavy duty vacuum pump that put my measly suction toys to shame.
This afternoon, I had received a small package that contained two gifts: a pair of silver ankara seks hikayeleri cuffs to wrap around the base of my nipples and a little bottle with no label. I messaged my benefactor for instructions.
“I need you to be a good girl and do as I say,” he messaged. “Pump those delicious teats for me until they’re nice and juicy, then massage the ointment into them and put on the cuffs.” When I asked about the ointment, he replied, “I think you’ll enjoy it, but it’s a surprise. I expect you to show me how grateful you are for my gifts by being an obedient little slut.”
I was nothing if not an obedient little slut. The thick, white cream felt incredibly pleasant on my puffy, freshly pumped nipples. After I had secured the cuffs to keep them plump and erect, I sent him a picture.
“You’re lucky I’m not there to suck and bite those fat teats until you scream,” he messaged back. “Now, I want you to go on a nice, long walk like that and send me a picture of those udders from somewhere you’re in danger of getting caught.” I didn’t love how often he referred to my breasts and nipples as “udders” and “teats,” but it still made my stomach flutter and my pussy get wet. As did the idea of taking my tits out in public, I had to admit. “I’m curious to see how the effects of the ointment interplay with the nipple cuffs,” he’d continued, “and how you handle it all in public. I’ll be waiting to hear back from my good little slut.”
So that’s how I ended up walking around a park at dusk with cuffed, tingling nipples. After about an hour of meandering and getting leered at by strangers, I stepped off the path and slipped behind a tree to take a picture of my nipples poking prominently through my shirt in the fading light. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching, I unbuttoned the neckline of the shirt and pulled out my heavy tits to present the cuffs glinting at the base of my nipples to the camera.
Once I thought I had enough pictures to satisfy him, I buttoned the shirt back over my tits and smiled at how obviously my thick nipples still rubbed against the skimpy fabric. As I stepped back onto the path, looking down at my phone to send the pictures to my benefactor, the tingling in my nipples took on a new, painful intensity. My hand flew to my chest, checking my suddenly throbbing nipple through my shirt. It felt extremely warm, and even more alarmingly, I thought I could feel it growing between my fingers.
My gasp of confusion became a scream as my breasts suddenly swelled, popping the buttons at the top of my shirt. My cleavage bulged obscenely out of the neckline for a moment before my tits underwent another burst of hot, painful growth and escaped the shirt entirely. My entire breasts ached, but my areolae felt stretched and hot in a particularly urgent way, and my nipples were straining painfully against the cuffs for which they were suddenly much too fat.
Another searing burst of growth brought me to my knees with a soft moan. I was relieved to hear a pair of pings as the cuffs shot off my expanding nipples and ricocheted onto the path. I reached up to massage the blood back into my newly freed nipples and was horrified at the sensation of them expanding in my hands. Each was at least an inch thick and almost as long as my palm was wide, and they were still growing. This pair of aching teats — it was impossible to deny that’s what they were — sat on top of areolae the size of saucered that covered the ends of my ridiculously massive tits. The skin of my huge areolae was bright pink and had taken on a shiny, stretched quality. As I frantically messaged my aching new teats, I was shocked to see milk beading at their tips.
With one final shudder of growth, my breasts expanded out of my grasp until the tips of my massive nipples scraped painfully against the concrete path where I knelt, leaving small puddles of the hot milk they were now streaming. But they had finally stopped swelling. It had taken less than a minute to grow breasts that were each the size of my torso.
After a moment of stunned, shaky relief, I stood up (which took several unbalanced attempts), gathered my massively engorged tits in my arms as best I could, and wobbled off, trembling with small sobs and dripping a trail of milk. I needed to message my benefactor and figure out what exactly he’d done to me, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say. I felt used and terrified but I was somehow also more turned on than I ever had been in my life. So I decided to pursue my more pressing needs: a secluded park bench where I could milk my leaking teats, and, if I was lucky, a rough pair of hands to help.