“Good? What the hell was that?”
“You think it’s easy being blue?” asked Peggy. “Those people outside: do you think they would have welcomed you in with open arms like me?”
“You lured me into the basement!”
“…to save you from what would happen if you ever left. Those people would blow you to bits.”
“It’s just a game!”
“Maybe to you…”
Two more girls latched onto Andrew’s tits. Their mouths filled up with juice almost faster than they could swallow. Their bellies bloated quickly like balloons. The swelling spread to their chests, then to their crotches, then to their limbs, and finally by the time their cheeks blew up they were completely blue and leaking juice.
“What’s happening?” Andrew groaned. “I don’t feel right.”
Peggy grinned. “Maybe those are your maternal instincts kicking in.”
“They are not! These boobs are just…ugh!”
Juice dripped from the girls’ swollen lips. It was leaking from their nipples, their crotches, and their butts, but they were indifferent, even as they lost the use of their legs and arms. They giggled even when their heads were half-sunk inside their spherical bodies. Women unlatched them from Andrew’s teats and rolled them away.
“Where are they going?” That’s what Andrew would have asked if he weren’t feeling so strange. Being milked was confusing.
“We’re raising a new generation,” Peggy said. “It’s only fair that men should play a part.”
“Can I please go home now?”
“I told you, they’ll blow you apart out there.” Peggy reached into the nearby oven and pulled out a pie. “Here we only feed you.”
“No, not more blueberry!”
“Shut up, it tastes good.”
Andrew had to agree, for after half an hour of struggling he found that Peggy made the best-tasting blueberry pie in town. She left enough of the tartness of the berries in to give it some real contrast, especially when she scooped the vanilla ice cream on top. Andrew was never happier to taste vanilla ice cream after he tasted it on pie baked with fresh blueberries.
Of course, it went straight to his breasts. The pressure was one thing; his nipples only grew longer and little jets of blueberry juice shot out of his nipples like the end of a sprinkler hose. It was the weight that was distracting. It was pure, liquid weight, gallons and gallons of juice all stored inside his breasts. As the day wore on he felt his boobs shifting slightly to and fro as if the tide were coming in.
More girls, barely even teens, suckled and grew fat, only to be rolled away. Eventually Peggy fed him so much pie that he couldn’t see them anymore.