@Background Pony #EC76
Sorry for the delay. Only had time to post a few from my backlog and just got around to continuing this one.
Part 2 Content: Manual stimulation, dubious consent-acles, lactation, mind control, weird

Ash’s hands were getting tired, but at least her breasts were less full. A glistening stream of thin, white liquid trickled randomly down the slope and had almost reached the clean patch of tiled floor thirty feet below her. She was sitting on the hill of weird, living tissue, damp shirt rolled up and tucked under her chin, facing back in the direction she’d come from, rigorously though inexpertly milking herself. It felt weird, a mix of irritation and relief with more than a little erotic edge to it that confused and conflicted her. She was relatively certain she hadn’t ever done this before, or at least she had forgotten how. If she’d let herself fill up for the couple of days she’d been trapped in here that might explain her fullness, but you’d think if she had experience with this problem she’d be better at taking care of it.

It was just one more thing that didn’t quite make sense, after her trip down the glowing portal had left her with only incomplete and fragmentary memories. She knew it had done something to her body also. Was this it? She tried to remember but couldn’t. She tried to contextualize her lactation and had nothing. It didn’t seem alarming, but she couldn’t tell if it was normal either. What she definitely knew was that dribbling milk in front of her knees while trying to climb had already cost her minutes of progress. She’d slipped and lost roughly a dozen feet of altitude the first time, then half as much when she slipped again. Finally, she’d decided enough was enough and sat herself down, spread her legs out to get her knees out of the way, and started working her tits to try and get past this problem before continuing her climb up the slope.

She turned her head to look at the swirling, luminous colors of the portal above and behind her, still a good climb away. At least she’d made progress. Without slicking her path and sabotaging herself she might make it out soon. Out of whatever this place was, and hopefully back to… wherever she had come from.

She felt like her expressing was almost done, so to hurry things along a bit she brought her knees up and closed them against the sides of her bloated breasts. She gently squeezed them from either side, hoping to pressure a little more speed into her release. It sort of worked, but it was also painful. Little jets of milk shot out like silk threads from her stiffened, puffy nipples but it felt like pressing on a blister. When she relaxed her legs again, the flow hadn’t seemed to lessen.

“Dammit, I wish there was someone to help out with this,” she said idly, wagging her hands to try and loosen the stiffness in her wrists and fingers.

N̶̡̤͕͋͊̌͑̀Ë̵̾͘͜Ë̸̝̳͓̩́̅̅͑̈D̵̻͈̽ͅ ̸̛̱̹̇̀͒̕H̵̡̫̭̲̅̀̽E̴̞̰̔̌̌L̶̤̈̔̍̈́̀P̴̙̼̱̿̾ the sourceless voice of the pit burbled from a thousand unseen mouths.

Need help Ash thought, the words reverberating in her skull and harmonizing her thinking. She sure did. Milking herself was taking all her time, and using up her stamina for climbing. She flung her tail to one side and leaned back, her top-heavy balance causing her to crash into the uneven texture of the flesh-mountain with a dull thud. The two bloated flesh mountains on her chest spread out underneath her arms and pressed down to either side of her, wobbling and jiggling as the energy of their fall and sudden stop echoed within them until dissipating, and only her frustrated sigh drove their jelly-like motion. Drops of milk cooled where they’d been ejected and fallen onto her cheek and shoulders.

The slope behind her wriggled. The texture of the bit she was laying against rippled and roiled in small, close-packed waves that became more and more pronounced. She was afraid to turn over and see what was happening, her heart hammering inside her chest. The first hands reached up and supported the small of her back, fingers wrapping around her waist, causing her to gasp nervously. They were rapidly followed by palms and fingers pressing into her butt, gently kneading it like she was their own personal stress toy. Her shoulders were next, with half a dozen hands pushing up and lifting her slightly from below, raising her torso and working her muscles with their fingertips. Gently but firmly, they worked into her back with slow, circular motions.

It actually felt really nice, she discovered. Magic hands, and she didn’t even have to put a quarter in the slot! Her trepidation gave way to amusement. Well, she really needed a massage, didn’t she? Why question the attentive service?

More palms and fingers rose up to press into her thighs, sinking into the fatty outer layers and pushing slowly deeper to reach the stiff muscles in her legs. Her knees were lifted, and hands touched her calves. Fingers wrapped around her ankles, and she felt her shoes being removed. Strong, rough hands covered the soles of her feet and wrapped it in their grip, rubbing her heels, her arches, the pads below her toes, it was like getting a foot massage from six or seven people at once.

Her stomach tickled itself with fluttering contractions of excitement when four or five hands cupped each heavy breast from below, raising them up and pushing them together over her chest, sharing the weight. She sighed, wondering if this was the first time her tits has been touched by someone other than herself. If this mountain of metamorphic flesh even counted as ‘someone.’ She decided it didn’t, but the hands felt nice either way as they gently squished and manipulated her massive mammaries.

She could see the ones on her breasts, now. Rubbery, veiny, a patchwork of pinks and purples assembled into forms that were only vaguely human-shaped over most of their surface, but their palms and fingers were legit. Or at least they felt that way. Slowly they rose up the rotund curves of her breasts, closing in on the leaking nipples that wagged rudely out in the open air and dribbled warm fluid all over her. First one, then another of the groping hands reached the base of her teats, as she was coming to think of them, and gently surrounded it with probing fingers. They squeezed ever so lightly, pinching the erect flesh between their knuckle-like joints, pulsing a little extra milk from its pores.

“Mmmmm,” she hummed in approval. “Yes, like that.”

Her helpers needed no further encouragement. Both breasts were quickly but gingerly surrounded by the hands, thumbs and forefingers taking position in front and others stroking and caressing her swollen breasts from below, behind, and either side, cradling them and supporting their considerable weight even as they worked. Two alternating streams of milk arched through the air as they started kneading and squishing in an rhythm of left, right, left, right. It was wonderful, a combination of tender erogeny and easing pressure that was so much better than her own solo efforts. Weird or not, it was exactly what she needed.

Milk ran down her aching breasts and started dripping down her sides, as well as along the arm-like projections that were working their magic on her tired body. Her wet shirt was feeling sticky and gungy around her neck. It was an inconvenient sensation that detracted from the delightful experience of her helpful massage and milking.

As in response, the hands supporting her back began to move. Fingers slipped between her skin and shirt, pushing upwards towards her shoulders. Fingers gripped the sleeveless straps, tugging upwards. Fingers reached up around her sides and started lifting the rolled, heavily drenched fabric up away from her chin.

Ash decided to help them out. She straightened her arms and swung them up and over, palms pointed in the vague direction of the portal she was ultimately trying to reach. As if understanding, the hands rolled her shirt up and slide it past her face, tickling her ears and brushing it up the length of her horn. Her long, dark hair was raked back as it followed the shirt over the rails of her slim arms. After the soaked garment cleared her fingertips, her wrists were encircled by strong but gentle hands that grew up from the surface of the chaotic hill and held them fast. Nice and snug, her arms were going nowhere. Not that she minded, the intoxicating pleasure of her friendly massage was soothing and invigorating at the same time. Invigorating in an erotic fashion, especially as she felt more arms slip between her thighs and gently spread them.

Fingers and palms kneaded her long, tired leg muscles gently from all angles at once, each muscle group getting a set of hands to pamper it. All along the length of her legs, down to her ankles, her arches, even the base of her toes, all wrapped in attentive hands that rubbed and pressed and caressed in exactly the way she needed them to. The same way their milking of her swollen breasts were just what she needed.

“Mmmmm, neeeeeeeeeed…” she cooed slowly.

N̡̛ͬ҉̷̟̕ ̸̭̥̩̣̝ͤ̀͋ͩ̅ͮ̕͘͟͢E̵̸̡̡͔̥͈̪͙̜̺͓̹̮̋̈͑̄ͧ̚͡ ̨̊̓̓̚̕͜͡͏̜̠͇͕̣͔̻̟̖̲̼͕͖ͅͅE̛ͩ̉ͤ̓͏̷͖̳̜̝͙͇̤̤͖͉̰̼̗͈̥͘͜ ̛̘͙̘̖̳̦̗̱̫̬ͣ̾̍ͮ͐̏́̕͜͝Ḑ̷͗͑̈͑͆̑҉͜҉̜̱̱͇ͅ

There was a new need talking hold within her, one she didn’t want to voice even in this solitude. It felt at the same time recognizable but, in the particulars, unfamiliar, as if she knew what it was intellectually but had never actually experienced it herself. She needed the fingers and hands to do something more, to be something more, and to work her deeper than just exploring her writhing body from the outside. A need in the basest, most instinctive sense of the word. Hunger and thirst had been satisfied, sleep was on the horizon, leaving only one other kind of need for her to experience.

As before, her need was answered by the strange nature of this amorphous geography. Where rivulets of warm milk gathered at her back and dropped cooling from her skin, new things rose up to wipe it away. Hungry, rasping, soft yet firm, muscular and boneless. Tongues. Tongues rose up from between the arms and hands that cradled her in comfort and sensual stimulation. Tongues that lapped up her warm breast-milk where it trickled over her body, and rose up to find its source. Tongues inhumanly long yet entirely human in texture snaked wetly up her shoulders and along her neck, nuzzling her affectionately and carefully, licking the rim of her jaw playfully. She giggled.

Massive, wet, hot tongues gathered where her milk was dribbling the strongest, lapping at her back and snaking up between the hands and arms to excite her breasts. They rose and followed her contours up to where her captive nipples were ejecting hot spurts of milk in response to the kneading hands and languidly encircled them, rubbing enticingly from side to side and back and forth to take in every square centimeter of her skin whether it was wet or not. A thick, unimaginably long tongue slithered insistently up her torso and probed between her breasts, nestling warmly against her sternum and wriggling idly between the two massive mammaries as they were pumped and squashed by the myriad hands.

The tongues that had scaled her fat breasts to their gushing peaks, meanwhile, wrapped around those geysers tightly and firmly, stifling the pulsing jets. Something odd was happening that she had no frame of reference to describe, other than that it seemed the tongues were fusing together into broad caps at her nipples and sprouting a thousand tiny sub-tongues of their own, each flailing against her engorged areolas and eagerly lapping the least secretion of moisture. Their efforts were soon augmented by a throbbing, tugging sensation as the ropy organs began expanding, separating internally and finally developing into fleshy tubes that deformed in unison to exert a vacuum pressure, contained within and focused entirely upon the ends of her breasts. Milk gushed out at this coaxing pump-action, relieving and stimulating her even more intensely than the manual milking had done to this point. She arched her back and gasped at the wondrous feeling. The fused tongues suckled again, prompting another intense wave of pleasure on top of every other stimulation her body was being subjected to.

A living milking machine, cups formed of flesh and tipped with an array of millions of tiny, wriggling stimulator tips. All for her. It drained her a third time and her limbs writhed against the restraining grip of the massaging hands, not to escape them but to enhance her pleasure by working against resistance. Her enthusiastic gasps and moans fell dully into her own ears in this echoless place. There was nobody around to be her audience. She was alone with her erotic experience. Did it make any difference if it was all happening inside her mind? The mountain of chaos seemed to react to her wants and needs without thought or comprehension other than reflex. Mightn’t it just as well be an extension of herself? Did that make this masturbation? The word seemed both too clinical and too judgmental to fit. It just was.

It continued to just be when more long, ropy tongues slithered up and coiled loosely around the base of her thighs, at the narrowest seam between leg and hip. Their wet, warm, slightly rough yet slippery caress intruded along the hems of her shorts. They were joined by more tongues sliding up from behind and following the contours of her waist to reach her tummy, spreading out and exploring this soft landscape with gentle enthusiasm. They skated wetly over her rounded belly and settled wherever there were contours, lazily serpentining over her skin like slow, patient pythons over a sunny branch. Her reactive squirming didn’t perturb them in the least. Their presence seemed to resonate with something inside her, sympathetic energies coming to the fore.

Twin tongues slid over her hips from behind and made mirrored pathways over her pelvis and down to the waistband of her shorts. They slowed, but didn’t stop, as their tips burrowed beneath and pushed through the confinement until they converged, touched momentarily, then separated again to probe further. What they found was smooth and hairless, a fact she hadn’t even been aware of until the subject was raised.

An intense, sensual ripple skated over Ash’s body when the tips of the tongues slid over a particular spot. Her legs nearly clapped together except for the restraint of the hands and tongues that held them firmly yet gently and massaged them tirelessly. Then she relaxed and decided to allow the pulsing waves of erotic pleasure to continue unhindered. It felt sooooo good, she wanted it to continue… even intensify, if they could swing it for her. Her decision was rewarded by more thorough and deliberate ministrations around that one spot, slicking it with fluids that lubricated the attentive tongues and which might have come from them… or from her. It didn’t matter, all that mattered was enjoying the wonderful way it made her feel. She needed more.

.

N̷̩̱̗͈̤͎̖̲̮͙̣̤̿̾̈́͆͗̽̓̒̔͘͝ͅ ̸̹̖̥̫̰̝̝̦̠̝̺̩͔̈̉̒̋̉̕͜Ȩ̴͈͎͔͎̞͍̪̹̝̽̀̂͋ ̸̧̞͇͈̰̩̗̻͙̠̪̩̬̒̌͐́͜E̴̜͕̠͇̟̼̰̩̫͎̬̳͛̎͋̇̒́͊͊̌̈́̈́͆͘͜ͅͅ ̵̢̱̣̭͉̻̦̜̽͌͌̒̒͑͑͋̇̓̀̏͘Ď̶̛͖͕̻̻̘̱̘̮̰͔͖̼̝̱͉̲̗̎̊͂̎̆̀͊͝ ̷̡̼̯͉͇̘̱̝̥̖̠̹̰̉̓͛̇͂Ṁ̶̛͇̓̏Ǫ̴͔̰̖̊̓̍̃̅̓͑͐́̏ ̵̧̼͔̜̝̯̰̋̒͛͆̈͌̑͐͋̾́̐̀̓̚R̶̗̝̯͖͙̤̫͒̇͊ ̶̡̧̧̰̝̘͈̪͍͕̟͔̩̔̇ͅ ̶̛͓̯̙̪̗̝̗̃̍͆̀̓̑͌̈́̋̏͒̚͘͠ ̸̧̡̘̖̣̙̗̙̰͓͓̳̩͇͈̯͚̓ ̸̝̹̋̀̃̍̊̈́͘̕Ę̴͇̘̭̟̥̳̰̲̤̭̟͇͊̽͋̾̏̏̿̆̅̎̅̊̑́̕͘̚.̸̲͉͚͚̤͉̻̞͚̜̗͌̓́͆̀͆̈̑͑̃̌̐͋̚̕͜͝͝ͅ

@Background Pony #BDC3
exceptional work as always – really looking forward to the next part

Part 1 Content: Implied transformation, mind control, lactation, weird

Ash pointed to her open mouth as if it would help anything. “F - O - O - D, food? This body you stuck me in hungers for fuel, capisce? Hello? Still not talking, huh? I don’t know what you want from me but if you’re not going to let me go home, you gotta take care of me, understand?”

The writhing mass of physical chaos did not answer. It hadn’t said a single word for the last two days. Not since luring Ash into the glowing portal with the only word it had said:

N͠E̴̴̸̷̶̡̎ͬ̇ͪ͑ͯ̍̚͟҉̡ÈD̢̛͢͏̡̛̛̖̺͖̤͙̞̜̰́͠

Well now that she needed food it was apparently content to sit there bubbling dumbly, unresponsive. The skulls had ceased to be intimidating, especially since she’d watched so many pop into and out of existence. The old lab equipment was the only structure that seemed to stay the same, forming a sort of scaffolding upon which the oozing mass of ever-shifting protoplasm dwelt.

She looked up at the portal, an indeterminable distance overhead atop a heap of the stuff. She had been avoiding her obvious route of escape so far for fear of touching the living slime again. Her first contact with it, after falling through the portal, had done something to change her. Given her this strange body, though she was only dimly able to recall that her old one had been different. Her memories had apparently been affected by the stuff just as her body had. Even her name seemed corrupted somehow, like it was only a dim shadow of what it used to be. But she knew that almost nothing about her was the same as before.

Ash brushed an obscuring curtain of long, soft hair out of one eye and tucked it behind a shoulder to free up more space to see. She looked down and saw only chest, her bulbous bosom hogging all her lower field of view and selfishly demanding so much of her strength to carry around. As was certain she hadn’t been burdened with those before the change.

What she couldn’t see below them, she had felt gropingly after her transformation. A bulging belly, soft and smooth thighs, a substantial rear end. With no reflective surfaces it took her a good deal longer to realize something was wrong with her face. It wasn’t a normal shape. It was longer and pointy, and her ears were big and soft and fuzzy. Then there was the horn. She figured this stuff had turned her into some kind of bloated monstrosity and was almost glad for the lack of mirrors. At least her searching fingers had confirmed she didn’t have extra eye in the middle of her forehead, but beyond that she couldn’t tell what she looked like.

She didn’t need a mirror to see the tip of her tail, though. A thick, muscular appendage that jutted out from the lower end of her spine, just above her butt-crack, from which grew the visible part. Hair. Long, lustrous, and purple, just like the mass of stuff draping her head. She was dead certain she never had a tail before, but it was surprisingly not awkward. It mostly remained behind her, lifting out and back and only twitching a bit when she let herself feel nervous or anxious. And sometimes she flicked it just for something to do.

Ash licked her parched lips. No food was bad, but not having anything to drink was miserable. Thirst would get her before anything else, she decided. Taking a deep breath, despite the heavy resistance of her oversized bust weighing her chest down, she looked again at the portal. There was no sense putting this off any longer, she decided. She had to risk climbing up the wriggling mass of chaos jelly to reach the way out, and hopefully leave this nightmare behind.

She walked up to the base of the sloping heap and nudged it with the toe of her shoe. No visible change in its behavior, just the usual bubbling and uncoordinated pulsations. She reached out and quickly poked it with a fingertip, withdrawing as fast as possible and cringing.

Nothing happened to her, and the thing seemed not to notice her contact. She reached out again and left her fingertip in place for a five-count before removing it. Aside from the weird thrum that permeated the substance, nothing out of the usual.

Bracing herself mentally, knowing there was no other option, she leaned forward and put a knee into the squishy matter, then both hands. It was warm, it moved and flowed, but it supported her weight as she unbalanced herself and leaned forward more, gradually increasing her reliance on the thing for support, until she picked up her other foot and knelt fully into it.

It was like being on a water bed that sloped up, and was full of eels and balloons, or something, but it supported her weight. She shifted her legs, pulling one knee past the other (and driving it into her right boob, but that was unavoidable), then pushed herself up. She reached and laid her hand on a higher patch of goop. It was soft and yielding, but not quite fluid. She didn’t sink into it, and it seemed scalable.

“Okay Ash, just crawl out and you’re home free. Probably be back to normal on the other side. Just keep climbing,” she said to steel her resolve. Another deep breath, and she began hoisting herself up the slope. The tips of her breasts were dragging against it, but she literally couldn’t hold herself far enough away to avoid that either, just like she couldn’t keep from driving her knees into them from below as she went. Boobs sure were an inconvenience, and their weight was the worst. Her shoulders and arms were already getting sore and she had barely gone ten feet from where she’d started.

The slope was steep, and its rubbery, shifting texture was tiring to work with. Her breathing was labored and she was feeling her dry mouth burning with the exertion. “Need a drink,” she said hoarsely.

The weird protoplasm suddenly quaked and quivered beneath her, changing shape even where she touched it. Round masses started to inflate and swell, bulging heavily all around her. Soft, squishy orbs grew and jiggled everywhere. At the top of every jiggling dome there rose a budding knob, a raised button growing in the center of the sagging spheres, throbbing and expanding into little cones of whatever this stuff was, then filling out.

Tits. She was crawling over a slope of big, naked, tits. Tits poked up around her knees, tits cushioned her shins, tits were pushing up her tits, and her hands were groping big, lewd, pleasantly plump tits. Breasts on the cob, she thought as the disorganized collection of lady-bumps reminded her of kernels packed into an ear of corn.

N̸̰̾Ȇ̵̜Ę̵̈D̴͈̊ ̴͔̓.̸̨͊ ̶̥̄.̵͍͌ ̴̋͠.̷̯̊ ̶̞̾D̴͙̏Ŗ̶̚I̴͖̔N̶̪̆K̸̼͛

Need. Drink. Yes, she needed to drink. Luckily for her there were all these breasts around, jiggling and swollen and full of… of… Ash shook her head, causing her ears to flap painfully against her face. What was she thinking? No way she was going to put her mouth on this corrupt stuff!

N̴̡ͯ̅͋͛̈̔͛ͩ͏̷̴̡̖̗̻͇̥͉̙̕͟ͅĘ̸̨̒̌̐͐̂ͨ̿ͩ̀͡͞͝͏̗̪̮̜̗͙̜̟É̶̡̲̼̥̺̯̜̠̹͌̓͌͛̋̈̚͘͢͡͡͡͞Ḋ̸̢̢̢̧̖͙̦̰͕̺̮ͮ̿ͮ̊͊͐̇͡͞͞ͅ ̷̶̷͖̩̮̻͎̪̜͕̓́͌̓̍͐̄̏́̀̕͜͡ ̧̛̤̠͎̜͉̭͍͈̈̓̎͑͗̄͑̒́͘͢͝͠͠ ̶͂͊͌ͨ͑̾͂̒͘͜͜͏̶͈̠̦͚̖̞̰̙͜͡ ̢̗̩̝͈̞͍̺͔̎͊̎ͬͬ̅͊̉̀̀́͘͘͞͞ ̧ͮͮ͐͂͑̅̏̅͘͞͏̶̙̜̬͉͚͇͍̮̀́͞ ̴ͭ̎ͩ̊͋͗̃̓͏̶̷̸̷̛̖̯͇̥͚̩̭̱͡ ̋ͮͯ̓̏͋͒͒͡҉̨̡̝̼̜͇̩̺̼́͢͟͟ͅ ̸̨̨̼͎̫̣͇̟͉̝̽ͯ̍͒̅̓ͤ̌̕͢͟͠͞ ̶̢̒͐͛͌̍̈ͣ̂͏̵̴̧̨͎̤̝̬͔̥̘̼́ ̴̵̛̈̑̿̊ͭ͑͛͐͟͏̶̭̣͈͖̺̬͈̲͟͝ ̴̡̢̡̖̦͈̗͓̠͇͉̏̓̒̿͌ͭ̍̚͘͢͠͡D̨̐ͫ̈́ͪͮ̋͑͌͘͘͢͟͠͏̝̳̳̜̻͔̼͡ͅR̴̴̿ͣ̄̿̽̀̑̋̕̕͜͏̴̖̫̗͔͎͉̻̬͞I̡͑̒̋ͫ̅̋ͧ͑͡͝҉̦̳̟͉̹̲̤͘͢͝͠ͅN̴ͭͭͩ͆̈ͨ̑̾͏̷̸̧̹̜̫͔̥͔̳̯̀́͘Ķ̸̷̵͈̖͖̞̞̙̮̼͊̉̉̋ͫ͛̂̚͘͟͟͠

Yes, she needed to drink. Luckily for her there were all these breasts around to drink from! Jiggling and swollen and full of good stuff she needed to drink! She gave the boob in her right hand a squeeze experimentally, and the nipple on it beaded up with fluid. A trickle ran down to her hand. She released the mammary structure and brought her hand up, giving it a sniff. Didn’t smell like anything. She touched her tongue to her wet skin, and tasted… milk. Sweeter than she remembered, but maybe that was her lack of sustenance these last few days. Licking her hand eagerly, she adjusted her posture and lowered herself down, squishing her own breasts into the wall of tits below her and feeling patches of warmth spreading over her shirt from below. Her bare thighs felt jets of hot milk spurting onto them as she laid herself into the inviting wall of breasts for a drink.

She focused on the nipple closest to her face and opened wide. She flicked the nipple with her tongue, wondering what would happen. Nothing much, as far as she could tell. She lowered her face closer and let the nipple slide into her lips, then tickled it with her tongue from inside her mouth. It got wetter, and the delicious milk moistened her lips. She sighed, relieved to find something that would slake her thirst.

She worked her cheeks to make a vacuum and a few drops of milk spurted into her mouth. She lapped at the wet nipple, she squeezed it with her lips, she massaged it to coax more and more warm, sweet nectar from it. She filled the space in her mouth and sealed her lips shut as she pulled her face away from the helpful breast, dispatching it would several swallows to let her throat get lubricated. Warm, rich, satisfying hydration soothed her and prompted her to go back for a second helping.

She pushed down on the breast with her face and even more of the milk gushed into her waiting mouth, almost hitting the back of her throat. Careful not to trigger a coughing fit, she returned to suckling instead of pressing and went through her second, third, seventh mouthful before coming up for air. She gasped and licked her lips, pulling her sticky, wet shirt away from the mattress of mammaries below as she let her lungs fill up with as much air as they wanted.

Still she needed to drink. She lowered herself again, laying fully prone on the carpet of knockers that squirted her in return, drenching her clothes even more with their excessive refreshments. She suckled a different breast, feeling her aching muscles relaxing and softening. She reveled in the feel of a hundred nipples rubbing her skin all over. She guzzled milk the entire time, time she’d already lost track of. She drank from the bounty of bosoms until her belly felt full, then she licked a few more for good measure.

The slope beneath her was slippery and wet, and she felt the same way even though her shirt clung to her skin tightly and her diminutive shorts were heavy with saturation. She rolled into her back, stretched her limbs, and snuggled into the welcoming bed of generous, nurturing tits. Her need to drink had been satisfied, and she felt the same way. She laid her palms onto two random breasts and kneaded them gently, sighing in contentment. It was hard to keep her eyes open, so she let them close and relax with the rest of her. Only her torso was working hard now, pushing upwards against her twin masses to fill with air, then subside to let them press her breath out, then again, and again, and…

Ash’s first clue that she’d fallen asleep was jolting awake with the sensation of falling, one of those dreams where you slip and topple over and then kick yourself back to awareness violently trying to prepare for a hard landing. But she was already on her back, pinned beneath her own heavy breasts and breathing hard.

She struggled to put her immediate past back together. Boobs. She was laying on a bed of boobs, right? No, the … whatever it was underneath her back was firmer, and the surface more irregular and finely textured. It swelled and subsided below her randomly, rocking her limbs and body without rhythm. The only milky tits around here were her own, which had started leaking in front and staining her shirt with rapidly cooling patches of dampness. Her clothes were otherwise dry. That didn’t seem right, somehow. Not her lactation, but the lack of soggy clothing everywhere else. Hadn’t seen been drenched with milk from… something she couldn’t quite remember. A dream, probably.

Ash hoisted herself up onto her elbows to look past her milkers and saw that she was still only about a dozen feet up the slope from the bit of bare tiled floor and sighed. Must have been from going so long without much rest or food, she decided. But she was no longer hungry. Or thirsty. That seemed odd, but she forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand. With a grunt of effort, she tipped her bosom over to one side and its momentum helped turn her onto her hands and knees again, the front of her breasts pressing onto the slope of chaotic, fleshy matter that was her ticket out of this place. She tossed aside a lock of long, purple hair and set her sights on the glowing, swirling portal that was still so far from her. Arching her back and giving her tail and limbering shake, she took a few deep breaths and then set herself the task of dragging her body up the amorphous hill that bubbled and roiled around her.

It seemed more difficult to pull her breasts along than she remembered it being before her nap, and her nipples were rubbing the ‘ground’ with each lurch forward, sending erogenous shudders through her copious flesh. The stimulation and alternating pressure on them liberated more milk from her sore, swollen glands, adding some relief she hadn’t even known she needed. Were they always this bad before?