The bathroom was quiet except for the occasional rustle of wipes and the crinkle of plastic. Jennifer worked carefully, gently—doing her best to preserve what little dignity Maya still had. The smell was unpleasant, the situation surreal, but neither of them spoke about it beyond what was necessary. They both knew this moment wasn’t about comfort. It was about trust.
Once Maya was clean, Jennifer slid a fresh pink diaper under her and fastened the tapes with practiced hands. She pulled the glittery skirt back down as far as it would go, then sat back with a sigh, brushing hair from her eyes.
Maya sat up slowly, still blushing. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice even smaller than her new body.
Jennifer nodded. “You’d do the same for me.”
They moved to the living room. Jennifer sank into the couch, rubbing her chest gently—her breasts were throbbing again, heavy and leaking slightly through the fabric of her shirt. She grabbed the pump from the side table and began to assemble it, fingers a little shaky from exhaustion.
Maya watched her in silence, cross-legged on the carpet, her expression unreadable. After a long pause, she spoke—barely above a whisper.
“Jen?”
Jennifer glanced up, one hand cupping her swollen breast as she adjusted the flange.
“I know it’th… weird,” Maya said, biting her lip. “But… could I…?”
Jennifer blinked. “Could you what?”
Maya looked away, face burning. “Could I… suckle? Just for a bit. Not to be gross or anything. I just… I feel safe with you. And I don’t know why, but it… it feels like it would help.”
Jennifer stared at her for a long moment.
She should have been caught off guard. But the day had long since broken through the barrier of normalcy. They had seen each other at their most vulnerable—broken, changed, humiliated. And underneath it all, what Maya asked wasn’t about feeding. It wasn’t about desire.
It was about comfort. Connection. Trust.
Jennifer exhaled slowly, then nodded once.
“Okay,” she said gently, setting the pump aside. She pulled her shirt up just enough to expose one heavy breast, her nipple already beaded with a drop of milk.
Maya crawled closer, hesitating only for a moment before she leaned in. She latched carefully, and Jennifer felt the gentle pull—a strange, warm relief that made her shoulders relax.
Maya closed her eyes.
For a while, they said nothing.
In the quiet of the apartment, with storm clouds gathering outside the windows, they found something the witch hadn’t taken.
Their humanity.
Their bond.
Their control.
Even now, it was still theirs.