Trained for Milking Read online

  Groaning, I hurried out the door.

  ****

  I'll be honest, I wasn't prepared for what was to come.

  Drake was furious, and he pointed me towards the squat rack right away. This, on its own, would have been a little embarrassing. I was no good at it, and the instructions he gave me just made me frustrated.

  “Stick your ass out,” he'd demand, and I would bite my lip and give it a shot. I felt silly, but he was the trainer.

  “Like this?”

  “No, no,” he grumbled, grabbing my shoulders and pushing them, adjusting the light bar laying across my back. “You need to arch... Look, Freya.” His sigh was dramatic, and I blinked, standing there with the weight balanced and feeling foolish. “I can't correct your form with that giant shirt on. Take it off.”

  “W-what?” I gasped, looking side to side at the other people working out. “I can't do that!”

  “Why?” He tilted his head, his voice doubtful. “Are you wearing a sports bra?”

  I nodded, chewing my lip and thinking about my strangely expanded breasts. “Uh, yes, but...”

  Drake pointed at another woman who was running on a machine, wearing nothing but tights and a crop top. “Look at her. See? Lots of women work out in sports bras. Take off that shirt so I can train you correctly.” I wanted to argue, but he lifted the weighted bar off of me, and held out a hand expectantly for my clothing.

  Oh god, what the hell do I do?

  His eyes narrowed, making my pulse quicken. I had no other choice, so I reluctantly slid the baggy shirt over my head, exposing my ridiculously too small bra where it squeezed my chest together. Drake took my shirt, balling it up and tossing it aside. Wordless, he motion me to grab the bar again.

  Shivering, I bent under it, lifting the weight and trying not to lean too far forward. But I felt his fingers between my shoulders, forcing me down, giving a deep view to the men working out in front of me. I saw them looking, knew they could see easily down into my bra, into the wide swatch of soft flesh. My nipples were clear outlines against the material, and the more I moved, the more I was scared they'd slip free.

  Drake slid his palm down my spine, making me gasp in delight and shock. That voice of his was low, a dark whisper. “Good, better. Now, stick that ass back, towards me, as you go down.”

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I did as he said, and watched the other men staring at my descent. They were clearly enjoying the show, and the more I leaned, the more the tight bra teased my pink nubs. They ached by the end of the first squat, but Drake didn't stop at one, not ever.

  My skin was shining, my breathing labored as he kept me working. The people watching were not even subtle, they ogled me as my breasts bounced from the motion. Each time I came up, I groaned, and hoped Drake took it for a sign of workout exertion. His touch on my lower back was driving me wild, and I couldn't make any sense of why.

  My chest grows, I'm crazy horny, what's wrong with me?

  My clit was throbbing when he finally told me to stop, and I was relieved to quit. “Good job,” he beamed, handing me a towel. I wiped my face and stomach down, as well as the top of my chest. The patch of dampness only served to highlight my firm nipples.

  I frowned, giving the front of my bra a covert rub, to try and dry some of the liquid. The result was a surprised, animalistic groan from me as my nipples tingled. The inside of the material confining me felt strange, like it was wetter than it should have been.

  I wanted to check what was wrong, but Drake had me by the arm, leading me to a bench. “Alright, time for some presses.”

  Trying to act normal, I stretched out on the long device, grabbing the bar above. My trainer smiled down at me, and it occurred to me that he could see down my bra. Blushing red as an apple, I tried to focus as he made me bench press the light bar.

  The hard, cold pole came down when I lowered it, settling right on my pliant flesh roughly. A few times, it brushed my firm pink tips where they were hidden, making me hiss. I could see, now, that somehow the front of my bra was getting soaked. Two little patches of wetness, and I had a nervous suspicion as to why.

  Drake gave me a funny look when I almost dropped the bar onto my breasts, my back arching in confused delight. Everything felt so good, and I hated it. I had no control, my body was obsessed with pleasure.

  I need to get out of here.

  “Freya,” he sighed, taking the bar from me and helping me sit up. “Can you come with me to my office, please?”

  His office? The concept seemed strange, but I gave a meek nod and followed him through the gym.

  The door was small, almost hidden, and he led me inside. Nothing in the place struck me as off, there was a desk and some chairs, but otherwise it was quite normal.

  “Freya,” he began again, shaking his head at me. “I'm starting to get worried that you aren't committed to this.”

  “What?” I balked, unsure what he meant.

  “You're not focusing.” Exasperation in his voice, he shrugged in sadness. “I can tell your mind isn't on what we're doing.”

  Wiping the back of my neck, I tried to figure out what to say. “Drake, um, it isn't that...”

  “Then what?”

  I stared at him, then the floor, uncomfortable and unsure what to say. Could I tell him what was wrong? His hands on my shoulders shocked me, making me gawk up at his sudden nearness, the sympathetic gleam to his eyes. “Freya, please, tell me what's wrong.”

  Can I tell him?

  “You're going to think I'm crazy,” I muttered. His grip tightened, his tone soft, caring.

  “I swear I won't.”

  Blushing, my face hot, I stepped back and pressed my fingers to my cleavage gently. “Um, well, something's been... wrong with me these past few days.”

  His face was blank, and I almost backed out of this. “What do you mean?”

  “My breasts,” I blurted, plowing along with a grimace. “Ugh, this sounds so stupid. But, well, my chest is growing somehow.”

  I didn't think he would laugh, so when he did, I watched him in silent shame. “Sorry,” he scratched at the back of his head. “It just seems weird, is all. I've had girls try to sleep with me before, but never with that line.”

  What?

  Baffled, I shook my head rapidly. “No, no, I'm not hitting on you!”

  “No? Come on, Freya, I could tell you were into me when we were working out.” His eyebrow lifted, and he looked me up and down as if seeing me for the first time. “But I don't sleep with clients. Sorry. I'll see you tomorrow, alright?”

  He turned away, and I grabbed his arm in desperation. “I'm not flirting with you! Something is wrong with me!”

  Drake pulled away, looking offended, his mouth a tight line. “Yeah, I'm not doubting that. Look, last chance. I don't sleep with clients. Go home, get some rest, and tomorrow we'll do this again.”

  He left me in his office, not turning around as the door shut behind him. I could only stare, amazed by what had just gone down. Is he right, am I crazy? Looking down at my chest, the way it strained at my sports bra, I knew I couldn't be. On a whim, I lifted it up, revealing one more thing that knocked it all back into the realm of impossible reality.

  The wet patches on the material were from my breasts, but not from sweating. No, I was staring at rivulets of creamy white; milk, from my tits.

  I almost called Drake back, but instead, I covered myself once more. He doesn't believe me, don't make it worse.

  When I left the gym, I didn't have my baggy shirt, and instead had to run home listening to the perverted shouts and wolf whistles of anyone who saw my obscenely bouncing breasts.

  ****

  The next morning, when I woke up, I didn't remember my dreams.

  I didn't even care.

  I was horny, insanely warm, my skin on fire. Furiously, my fingers worked at my pussy, rubbing circles around my plump clit. It took little time for me to get myself off, the ripples of pleasure jolting down to my toes. Again, and
again, I slid my fingers into my soaked tunnel, stroking the roof and feeling my muscles clench.

  When that no longer worked, I started massaging my tits, feeling conflicted about enjoying the way the creamy flesh yielded in my hands. My breasts were easily bigger than my palms could hold, I felt like a porn star, honestly.

  But like before, I didn't care. I just wanted to cum.

  Tugging at my hard nipples, I felt the first warm burst of milk. This, finally, made me halt my lustful adventures.

  This is too much, I can't handle this. Why am I lactating, why are my breasts growing?

  Sitting up gingerly, I looked at the clock, surprised that I was actually awake before Drake called. I realized I could avoid going in, but through everything, my goal was still clear.

  I stood, eyeing myself in the mirror and smiling. I could see a hint of muscle on my stomach now, and my ass looked firmer, too. Maybe Drake was right, maybe he could get me ready for the fitness model gig.

  Will they take me with my breasts as big as they are, now?

  The current problem seemed to be my issue with what to wear.

  Struggling into a halter top, I gawked at the sight of myself and laughed. I was a walking wet dream, the clothing left nothing to the imagination. Shaking my head, watching the dampness spread from my milk laden tits, I knew I couldn't do it.

  I wonder if Drake will believe me now.

  Slipping on some panties, knowing they, too, would become damp from my constantly aroused body, I lifted my phone to make the call. I'd have to tell him I couldn't do it, I couldn't go out like this. I needed a new wardrobe, and maybe a visit to my doctor.

  The phone rang twice before he answered, and I tried to calm my voice. Somehow, Drake made me so unsure, so nervous. “Uh, hey, Drake?”

  “Hey! What's up, Freya? I'm glad to hear your voice so early.”

  I gave a weak giggle, casting a glance at my reflection again. “Right. Uh, hey, listen. I'm not sure I can come in today--”

  “Wait, why? Too sore?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, then found myself agreeing. “Right! Yeah, too sore, so...”

  “Well, hm. That's too bad. But look, how about this. Come in, and we'll just stretch you out. No workout, okay?”

  “I, um, that...”

  “Seeya soon!” He hung up, and I just buried my face in my hands. Why hadn't I just canceled? Now, I had to show up, or he'd be angry at me for leaving him high and dry.

  Maybe it will be fine. No working out, I think I can make it through that.

  Inhaling deeply, watching my chest expand with the motion, I pulled on another baggy shirt and hurried to the gym.

  ****

  Surprisingly, the Fitness Box was empty when I got there.

  Standing in the reception area, I looked around in confusion, waiting for Drake. I didn't stand around long, the handsome trainer appeared and waved at me as he approached.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked.

  “Oh, normally I close this place on Sundays. But since you're being trained by me personally, I opened it just for you.” His grin made me feel even worse about trying to ditch. “So, shall we?”

  My nod was hesitant, but I trailed after him towards the yoga room. My arms, self consciously, kept adjusting my halter top beneath my shirt. The yoga room was covered in padding, and there was a small pillow in the middle of the floor.

  “Just lay here, face down, and I'll help you from getting more sore as the days go by.”

  Biting my lip sideways, I knelt on the ground and stretched out on my stomach. My breasts squished into the floor, making it awkward for me to lay my face on the pillow. My chest is in the way, ugh.

  My irritation flowed away when Drake sat on the middle of my back, a gentle pressure that still made my heart flutter. His fingers were strong, precise, digging into my muscles deliciously. It was only minutes before I was groaning, enjoying the sensation.

  Perhaps, honestly, a bit too much.

  I knew something was wrong when he started massaging my lower back. The ripples went through my core, straight into my pussy. The contact was turning me on, and realizing that was making it worse. My nipples, pressed into the hard floor, felt teased, aching for attention.

  Every stroke of his hands made me tremble, my breathing quickening. The warmth tingled in my chest, the wetness flowing abruptly. Oh, fuck, no! Milk is coming out again!

  Drake was oblivious, concentrating on working me out. “Roll over so I can stretch your legs, now.”

  I didn't want to, I knew what he would see if I did. But he nudged me gently, insistent, and I obeyed. Shifting onto my back, I was grateful to see that the wet tips of my nipples hadn't soaked through my halter top into my shirt yet.

  He grabbed my foot, lifting it up and locking my knee. “Relax,” he instructed, and I did my best. Carefully, he leaned over me, forcing my leg towards my face.

  The tightness in my hip, it made my panties dig into my slit, my stretch pants a second skin. I was sure, if he looked, he'd see the outline of my pussy, perhaps the bump of my swelling clit. I breathed out, my body heating with the flush of arousal.

  I was too sensitive, acutely aware of everything. His touch, his smell, and he seemed oblivious to the obvious signs of my body crying out. “Good,” he smiled down at me, pushing my leg further. “That's very good.”

  Oh god, he needs to stop, I'm going crazy!

  His hands slid down from my ankle, stroking my thigh and raising goosebumps. He came dangerously close to my pussy, inches away, and I felt myself twitch with desire. Fuck, I want him to touch me. Why? Something in me was craving something, any sort of attention from this man.

  Drake grabbed my other foot, pushing it up beside the first, my ass tilted into the air and my cunt so close to him. His hips were almost resting on me, his pelvis inches from my own. If he leaned in, I was sure he could kiss me.

  I was panting now, I couldn't control it. My blood pumped, my skin electric, and still he seemed to not notice. His touch rolled down my legs again, stopping right on the sides on my lower lips, digging into my ass cheeks. “Your glutes are tight,” he admonished.

  Please, please, just touch me there!

  I couldn't bare it anymore. I lifted my head, eyes shut, seeking his lips with my own. Nothing but air met me, and I felt his hands on my shoulders, holding me still. Fluttering my lashes, I stared at him in confusion. That disapproval made the back of my neck prickle.

  “What are you doing?” He frowned harshly.

  “I... I just thought...” My heart thumped, his denial doing little to calm my furious arousal.

  “I told you, I don't sleep with clients.”

  “Please!” I heard my own desperation and flushed, but I sat up, my hands touching his wrists. “I can't take it, I'm going crazy, I need...”

  “You need?” Drake wrinkled his forehead, laughing softly. “It's that bad, is it? You want to fuck me so much, you don't even care what I think?”

  “It's not that.” The way he phrased that made me feel terrible, but the way his skin felt under my hands made my pussy tighten. “Something is wrong with me. You don't believe me, but it's... Look.” I didn't care anymore. I lifted my shirt, tossing it aside. My halter top was soaked, and Drake looked shocked.

  “What's that, Freya?”

  “Milk,” I whimpered, shifting anxiously. “I'm making milk, I don't know why, though.”

  Drake leaned in, and I inhaled sharply. Gently, he lifted my top, my heavy breasts bouncing free into the air. We could both see the opal liquid on my pink tips. “You weren't kidding. Freya, I'm sorry. I should have believed you.”

  “I don't care,” I flinched, trying to resist the urge to shove my tits into his hands. “I just... I need release, you don't understand what this is like!”

  “I'm sorry, but I can't sleep with you still.” Drake stood up, and I grabbed at his pants with a sob.

  “Why? Please! I'm going crazy!”

  “Freya,” he sighed, r
eaching down and touching my hand sympathetically. “I just have a rule. If I break it, I can't train you anymore.”

  My mind worked, foggy with my arousal. “But I can't train like this, either!”

  Drake opened his mouth, as if to argue. Instead, he paused, seeming to ponder. “Actually, I might have an idea.”

  I knelt there, hugging my chest and shivering at how even that felt amazing. “What is it?” If it isn't fucking me, I don't really care.

  “Stay here,” he smiled, and part of me felt a sense of dread. He left the room, but he wasn't gone long. Drake returned with a large bucket in his hands. He looked proud of himself, but it left me wary.

  “What's that?”

  “A bucket,” he laughed, shooting me a look that implied I was dumb for asking. “Look, your problem is you can't train because you have all that milk inside of you, right?”

  “Uh, I guess,” I shrugged, not sure where he was going with this. He leaned in, kneeling in front of me and sliding the bucket between us.

  “So, in the interest of me fulfilling your contract and training you, I have an idea. I can't fuck you, but, I'll help you out by milking you.”

  I couldn't have stared at him harder. “E-excuse me!?” I was going to slap him, I was going to get up and storm out. I was going to do any number of things... until he reached out, and cupped my breasts.

  My body yearned for pleasure, I arched into his touch helplessly as I groaned. Gingerly, Drake rolled his thumbs over my nipples, squeezing the tips and tugging downwards. I'm not sure what I expected, I was already dazed with bliss, but when creamy milk squirted into the bucket I simply moaned.

  I was lost in a world of warm liquid. Drake was far too talented, his palms massaging my swollen tits, coaxing them to expel the milk inside. My clit throbbed with every squeeze he made, until my pussy was soaking and ruining my pants.

  The sounds I made were obscene, ridiculous, but I couldn't help it. My trainer was milking me, and it was the best thing I had ever felt.