"Liz," Bianca groaned into the phone after yet another beep, "It's been a week. Pick up already." She hung up and set her head on the table, breathing heavily while her hands gripped her shirt. Her knuckles were white, and her nails dug deep into her palm. It was the only way to stop herself from relieving the brutal ache between her thighs.
A week without a single orgasm. Bianca would've been proud of that fact, as would Alisa, but every other thought was consumed with preventing herself from masturbating. The rest were focused on finding her girlfriend, the mere idea of whom made her want to cum. An endless cycle that made her pussy burn and drowned her underwear constantly. She couldn't touch herself. What kind of a girlfriend would she be if she fingered herself when Alisa could be in trouble?
The girl rose from her chair and went about making a simple breakfast. She pulled an apron over her front, the fabric tenting from her indominable nipples, and turned on the stove. Fried eggs and bacon were all she could manage without Alisa's guiding hand, though it proved a greater challenge with her absurd curves.
Bianca reached into the overhead pantry, arm brushing against her breast and lifting it. The huge mound fell with a meaty slap against her stomach, rippling for a few seconds afterwards, and sent a wave of pleasure through her. A soft moan breezed past her lips at the shock of sensation. It got worse again, she thought as she cracked a couple of eggs into the pan.
Each day without Alisa made her body crave her touch even more. Just brushing her breast was enough to flood her panties, though she'd long since given up on wearing underwear. Her pants weren't any better off, usually lasting less than a minute under the constant flood of her juices. Alisa's scent had faded from their room, replaced by Bianca's depraved musk. It, too, only got worse as time passed. She could barely detect the smell of her sizzling breakfast over it.
Her phone vibrated powerfully from the table. She grabbed it in an instant, barely pausing to look at the caller ID. The eggs and bacon were left to fry, any thought of feeding herself forgotten in the hope of finding Alisa.
"Mrs. Bennet, have you heard anything?" Bianca inquired, one foot bouncing in rhythm with her heartbeat.
"A friend of mine said she saw someone who looks like her at a convent," Mrs. Bennet, Alisa's mother, intoned wearily. Bianca had barely slept the past seven days, though most of that had been out of fear of what her dreams would lead to, yet she couldn't imagine what the older woman had put herself through. No doubt running herself ragged on top of sleepless nights.
"That's great," Bianca breathed, a smile teasing at her lips, "Which one?"
"It's at Saint Miguel's, on Ashford Street. It's near your dorm. I'll drive down tomorrow morning," Mrs. Bennet hung up, her voice building in excitement. Bianca rushed to her wardrobe and pulled out the only dry outfit she had left. All the others had either fallen victim to her copious lactation or her unquenchable snatch. She grabbed a roll of duct tape and applied several layers over her nipples, groaning in discomfort. There was no other way to restrain her milk.
Her tits had firmed up from the sheer amount they'd stockpiled. Bianca couldn't milk them without cumming, only a single squeeze would put her on the brink, pulling would force her to teeter on the edge of a knife. And that was four days ago. She didn't dare test her sensitivity now.
Confident that her ridiculous body wouldn't get her arrested for indecency, she left the room. Everyone outside stopped and stared, either lustfully ogling her inhuman figure or sneering at her. She could understand both sides. There was no other woman like her after all, and there probably never would be. How could there? When her waist was as thin as ever while her tits and ass stretched any clothes she wore obscenely.
Her black tank top was once loose on her. The very idea seemed almost preposterous in her mind as she glanced down at the bulging front, what looked like miles of cleavage stretched before her, and the upper half of her tits overflowed. Bianca grimaced at how obvious her nipples were despite the duct tape.
Moisture faintly spread from around the peaks. She wasn't surprised, not when her breasts felt tight as a drum. If she leaned forward, she could make out blue lines spreading from her areolae. Others could plainly see them, though, their eyes almost always dropping to gawk at the sight. She only had to get to the parking lot, then she could ignore it all.
"Hey there, Bianca," a deep, sleazy voice invaded her ears. Or maybe not, she thought and glanced to her side. Derrick walked beside her, easily keeping up with her frantic pace. He was a typical jock, over confident in his sexual prowess and attractiveness to women. Even the fact that everyone knew she was in a relationship didn't stop the bastard.
"Fuck off, Derrick," Bianca growled. It took all her concentration to ignore how her tits and thighs rubbed together with every step. The last thing she needed was an asshole trying - lamely - to score with the college freak.
"How rude," he feigned a hurt expression, then laughed, "I was just going to ask if you wanted to come to the house tonight." Bianca's jaw clenched at the offer. The dampness around her crotch spread further as her pussy let down in desire. She knew what he wanted of her. An invitation to a frat house was just code for 'do you want a gangbang?'
"I refer to you to what I said before," Bianca sped up, trying to leave the asshole behind. An asshole that had a cock. The thought slithered past her defences, coiling within her consciousness. It wouldn't be ignored. There'd be plenty of dick at the frat house, more than enough to get her off. Even if they were tiny compared to Alisa's.
"Don't be like that," Derrick snickered and clapped a hand on her shoulder.
"Don't touch me!" Bianca shouted, barely swallowing down a moan. The tape over her nipples strained against its prisoners, her milk escaping around it. Her last pair of dry pants were a lost cause as dampness rapidly spread from her crotch, rushing down her pantlegs.
"Whoa, okay," Derrick stepped back at the outburst, then seeing the moisture darkening her clothes, "Maybe I could help you out?" He nodded to her tits, a sneer on his face.
"No," Bianca panted and rushed to the parking lot. She couldn't stand to walk around anymore, not when the slightest touch had almost made her cum like that. Derrick was still standing where she'd left him, grinning cockily at her. Her eyes moved of their own accord and settled on his crotch, finding a noticeable bulge there, "Just get a move on." She grunted and piled into her and Alisa's car.
Once inside, Bianca released a long sigh of relief. The interior smelled of Alisa, a mixture of citrus fruits and her heady musk. Elegant and visceral. She smiled to herself at the memory of when they'd bought the third-hand vehicle. It was partly an impulse purchase after Bianca put the idea of car sex into Alisa's head, but it had been a hell of a night. They'd done it in the student's parking lot, where anyone, student or teacher, could've seen them. What a thrill, she thought.
Bianca bit her tongue and yelped at the pain. It was a miracle that she could still feel such a thing with her body as it was. The car revved to life, though it was a pitiful sound compared to some of the muscle cars around her, and tore a moan from her lips. Being old and worn out as it was, the seats were slightly loose and vibrated with the engine. She felt those tremors ripple through her own body, starting from her oversensitive pussy.
"It'll just take a minute," Bianca muttered and gripped the steering wheel, glancing at her flushed face in the rear-view mirror. Her plump lips were parted, and a line of drool ran down her chin. She wiped it away and clenched her jaw shut, steeling herself.
"Finally!" Bianca gasped when she shut the engine off. Her entire body continued to quiver. The worn leather seat was covered in her juices. Her own scent mingled with Alisa's, mimicking the musk from all their times together. Bianca could almost taste the sex if she breathed through her mouth. She peeled her milk drenched shirt from her torso and studied her imprisoned nipples. Streams of milk leaked from under the duct tape.
