The Case Files of Dr. Randall Herringwick
The Case of the Lactating Virgin
Chapter Four - The Happy Failure
CASE FILES - PERSONAL NOTES - PATIENT 20 - DAY 53
Things progressed much faster than I thought possible. Then again, to my knowledge, there had been no recorded studies that had taken into account all of those variables: the weight gain, the forced lactation techniques, the mental restructuring, et cetera. I assumed that the mental and physical were connected ... at least to some extent. But how could such things possibly be measured? Anyway, I decided to move up my overall schedule.
On day 41 Ann began exuding small amounts of a thin, clear substance from both nipples during sessions with the breast pump. At first, she was immensely happy at the prospect that she was now able to "help the little babies," but she sampled the fluid before I could stop her. It was, of course, bitter and unpalatable; and this threw her into a fit of sobbing depression. Once again, it all made perfect sense. The fluid, obviously, was mostly lymphatic excretions. The tantrums and mood swings were indicative of the huge amounts of hormones I'd been feeding her. Based on all of this, I removed her completely from the progesterone and estrogen, adding a small dose of a common testosterone drug, instead. I'd begun prolactin in the third week, and I'd bumped up the suction on the breast pump twice. I figured this should do it. On day 53, I learned that was an understatement.
For those of you who haven't figured out all the hormone stuff: a woman who takes a mixture of estrogen and progestin has tricked her body into thinking it's pregnant, since those two hormones occur naturally during pregnancy. As a result, the pituitary fails to trigger the release of other hormones that cause the discharge of eggs mid-cycle, and pregnancy is averted ... among other things. One of those "other things" is preparing the mammary glands for milk production, and so breast size commonly increases with the use of birth control pills. Through the rapid removal of these drugs, I was simulating the hormonal equivalent of giving birth. If nursing is accomplished routinely, that should start the flow of milk.
She came to me that morning, trying to communicate a "strange tingling feeling" in her breasts during the latest pumping session. I thought it was too early in the process, and so I didn't even try to explain the "let-down reflex" to her, thinking that would only lead to psychosomatic problems. But then at noon, her milk came in suddenly and copiously ... almost 60 CC's in a single sitting!
The personal implications were almost overwhelming. I was going to lose her ... soon! I'd figured on three full months to accomplish this; but now I realized it was only going to be two! Once again, there have been no studies done that combine these particular factors, so the timetable was iffy from the very beginning.
She was a big girl now. After the original ten pounds, her weight gain settled down to a nice average two pounds per week. And, thanks to the intense exercise, it all went to the right places. Ann was a dish! We purchased new clothing, including larger bras, two weeks before; and I installed a larger cup on the breast pump to better fit her. She tipped the scales at a nice 114, and I knew we were going to wind up shopping yet again for a larger wardrobe ... not to mention nursing bras, which I hadn't thought would be necessary for another two or three weeks. The week before, for the first time in her life, Ann expressed concern about breast sag. She picked up some women's magazine somewhere, and there was an article about "the pencil test" in it. I never imagined Ann would ever be concerned about such things; but now, of course, Ardly was figuring into her thoughts.
I started introducing the idea of him during our daily hypnosis sessions. I'd found pictures of him online, and printed and framed one of them, which I put on my desk in a spot that she was sure to notice when she came in for her daily entrancements. Through deep suggestion, I implanted the idea that the picture had always been there; but day after day she grew to not only notice it more ... she became infatuated with it. Only four days after implanting the suggestion, she began asking me pointed questions about "my friend, Justin Ardly." One of the internet articles (which was actually a reprint of a Providence Journal story) was about his hobby. He is evidently a renown amateur lepidopterist, despite his youthful age, and he owns one of the largest private collections of moths in the country. This prompted Ann to beg me for another trip to the bookstore, where she bought three volumes on butterflies and moths, and she ordered three others which were quite technical. I had promised to introduce her to "my friend" in the near future, and she told me that she wanted to "have something to talk about with him."
How we maintained a professional relationship, I don't know. We each harbored romantic feelings, though I certainly never mention them. From time to time, she begged me for an additional session in the examination room, but I steadfastly kept the frequency to twice per week ... just as I only let myself achieve sexual release from her ardent manipulations every Sunday. Holy cow, but that girl was enthusiastic! Without further prodding, she took it upon herself to learn and perfect (through trial and error) certain techniques that kept me on the cusp of ecstasy for ten or fifteen minutes before finally giving me mind blowing orgasms that left me utterly satisfied.
Weeks before, I began having her shave her pubic hair during those times in the bathtub that she also shaved her legs and underarms. Only recently, I decided to sample her orally during her "examination sessions," and while it brought her to a peak much more quickly than she'd like, I could tell that her release was soul-shattering.
After the first successful milking session, I sat her down at the kitchen table and discussed the seriousness of lactation, pleased that her unmitigated joy at this physical accomplishment was tempered with reality. She can really be quite sober and adult when the situation calls for it.
There are actually not that many long-term medical studies on the subject, which is a little surprising, considering the fact that our entire biological class of animals is named after this marvelous gland. On the other hand, medical studies take not only time, but money; and there is really not that much monetary return to be had from the further understanding of females and their reproductive systems. Not like Big Pharma or cosmetics, anyway. The biggest long-term studies to date have been subsidized in Norway and few other small-but-very-progressive countries.
Ann's milk (having just started) had certain characteristics that would change, not only over months, but constantly during the process ... day to day, and even hour to hour. Fat content in mother's milk varies tremendously between individual women ... but it is not generally affected by diet. That is to say, if Ann ate a meal that was high in sugars, it would have almost no impact on the sugar and fat content of her milk (even though she would experience an increase in glucose levels in her blood). On average, among all women, breast milk is about four and a half percent fat ... around the same as "whole" processed cow's milk sold in U.S. supermarkets; but it LOOKS dramatically different. That's because human milk protein is primarily contained in whey, rather than as casein in curds. So, Ann's milk had a sort of thin, "watery" appearance. That would change over the long run. Mothers who nurse for eight or nine months will develop more casein and less whey ... making the milk appear much richer, even though the fat content remains the same. And ... the milk's fat content is slightly higher during daytime feedings (when babies need it the most) than it is at night.
On top of all that, the breast is an erogenous zone in more than 95% of women. (Did I mention that it's a marvelous gland?)
My lecture to Ann dealt primarily with cleanliness; for, now that her milk had fully come in, it was going to get everywhere! There was little doubt that the tingling sensation she had felt earlier was, indeed, a let-down reflex. Once she experiences that (which would be frequently now), milk would start flowing from the breast NOT being pumped, as well. She might very well awake in the middle of the night to find herself ... or her sheets, or her bed clothing ... wet from her own milk. And at body temperature, milk can become rancid in a matter of hours. Ann was about to increase her duties immeasurably where hygiene was concerned ... more baths, more laundry and more general clean-up.
During the course of our discussion, she was, of course, most interested in what was going to be done with the milk. I may consider myself a monster, but I'm an honest one. There are three organizations in Rhode Island that collect mother's milk for distribution to infants. I tended to favor the one that gives first priority to state protective services ... that is, for infants that have either been abandoned or taken from abusive situations or mothers who cannot properly provide for them. I put in the call while Ann listened, and we arranged for the first batch to be picked up for analysis the next day. Assuming it passed all their tests, they would come by three times per week to pick up all that we had to give them.
It was time for Ann's walk, and I sent her out on her own (so that I could phone Ardly and give him the news). I walked her to the door and told her goodbye, and she confided that she had put some thin pads in the cups of her bra, just in case her breasts started leaking. I told her that she had excellent foresight, and she beamed up at me; then she gave me a hug and told me thank you. I couldn't help but admire her as she walked off. She had graduated to three-inch heels two weeks ago when we got her a few dresses in a larger size that fit her new body. Somewhere, she had developed the habit of swinging her hips as she strode along, and she looked damned good. A man coming the other way said something to her that I couldn't hear, but she turned and smiled at him as he passed. After she had gone past, he spun around and walked backwards for several steps, admiring her from behind.
I sighed and went into my office to make the call. "She's ready?" he exclaimed loudly, his voice full of excitement.
"Almost. I'm not just going to desert her, Ardly. I need to prepare her for this ... um ... transition in her life. It has to be something that she wants ... that she's ready for."
I let the conversation lag. Finally, I said: "I need to know a couple things. Do you want her on birth control?"
"No." His answer was immediate. "I want her fertile. Can you do that?"
