Lactation Issues 2

Support Tier-exclusive

Twelve weeks had passed since the unforgettable moment when Jonah revealed that he was the father of Grant’s babies. Jonah, the impossibly charming intern, had confessed everything—his memories of New Year’s Eve, his intentions, and his love. Since then, their connection had deepened into something intense, tender, and consuming. Their days were full of stolen touches, whispered teasing, and overwhelming physical need, while their nights blurred into hot skin, soft moans, and constant milk.

Grant was now full term with four large babies, still clocking in at the firm each morning, but it had become laughably evident that he was no longer the sleek executive he once was. His chest was the most obvious change. What had once been overgrown pecs were now nothing short of obscene. Each breast was enormous, stretching out from his body like glossy domes of pure milk-laden tissue. By the start of the third trimester, they had grown even larger, straining against every band, shirt, or pad he attempted to wear. They jutted out ahead of him, heavy and veined. His nipples were thick and dark, constantly twitching from stimulation or pressure.

But it was his belly that changed the most over those weeks. If his chest had stolen the spotlight in the second trimester, then his womb roared back with a vengeance in the third. His belly seemed to explode in size, bulging out with the pressure of four full-term babies. It surged forward day by day, catching up with his breasts in outstanding immensity. By week thirty-six, he couldn’t reach around himself, couldn’t bend, and couldn’t even sit down without grunting and adjusting his massive, kicking orb. His skin was stretched thin and glossy, with a roadmap of blue veins tracing the surface as the quadruplets inside squirmed and kicked relentlessly.

Every hour, his breasts would become unbearably full, demanding to be relieved. Pads didn’t work anymore. Compression bands only made things worse. Shirts became see-through with milk stains minutes after putting them on. The only solution was Jonah. And Jonah was more than happy to help.

The intern had taken to feeding directly from Grant’s breasts nearly every hour. It began as a necessity but quickly became their favorite shared ritual. Jonah would help Grant lean back on a couch or the office chair, cradle the older man’s enormous tits in his arms, and latch onto a nipple like it was oxygen. Grant’s milk came in explosive gushes now, spraying Jonah’s mouth, chin, and chest before he even began to suck. And when he did, it was nearly impossible for Grant to focus on anything else. Jonah sucked greedy gulps that pulled moans from their mouths. The longer the feeding, the louder the moans became..

But there was a side effect. The hormones and rich nutrients in Grant’s milk weren’t only helping satisfy Jonah’s thirst. They were transforming him. It was slow at first, then more dramatic. Jonah had always been tall and lean, wearing sweater vests and tailored slacks, but then he began to grow and had to change his wardrobe entirely.

His chest thickened. His arms bulged. His button-downs couldn’t contain the rise of powerful, round deltoids. His thighs swelled until his slacks creaked with every step. Veins snaked down his forearms. His jaw sharpened, then softened again under a dusting of beard. Hair bloomed across his chest, arms, and lower belly, giving him a rugged, almost bear-like appearance. His abdomen never hardened into abs—instead, it thickened with a sexy layer of fat that made him look strong and protective all at once.

Grant would watch Jonah drink and couldn’t help but smile as he scanned what the milk was doing. “You’re going to outgrow your suits if you keep drinking so much,” he whispered one night as Jonah knelt between his legs, lapping milk from his chest with greedy pulls.

“Good,” Jonah responded. “I want to outgrow everything. I want your milk to make me into someone who can carry you when you’re too big to walk.”

It continued for weeks, and by the time Grant delivered the quadruplets, Jonah had become a hulking daddy. He was a towering wall of dense muscle and masculine softness. His shoulders were broad enough to fill doorways, his traps bulged against the collars of even his largest shirts, and his arms had become boulders of strength wrapped in soft chestnut hair. His chest was broad and thick, not cut like a bodybuilder’s, but rounded, solid, and hairy, the kind of chest Grant loved to rest his head against. His abdomen had transformed into a heavy, firm gut that jiggled slightly when he walked, framed by thick obliques and a faint treasure trail disappearing into ever-tightening pants.

His thighs strained against every pair of jeans, and his ass had grown high and round, giving him a dominant swagger. He kept his beard full and trimmed, adding to his commanding and nurturing presence. Jonah was the kind of man who could lift Grant with one arm and cradle the babies with the other, all while suckling at Grant’s chest with unashamed hunger. He was thick with power and affection, always ready to lift Grant, carry the diaper bags, massage his back, or suckle his overburdened chest until Grant screamed his name.

The birth had been long, difficult, and beautiful. Grant and Jonah stayed in a private recovery suite, away from prying eyes. Jonah never left Grant’s side. He cuddled the babies, cradled Grant’s belly, and continued to drink from him even after delivery, because Grant’s milk didn’t stop—if anything, it ramped up. The clinic staff raised eyebrows at how much he produced. Freezers filled. Towels were ruined. Jonah stayed latched for hours. And even then, the lactation issue was getting worse.

****

Five weeks later, the quadruplets were sleeping soundly in a luxurious, overstuffed stroller next to a clinic bed. Grant had come for a checkup after experiencing odd symptoms for the last few days. He wore a loose t-shirt and a postpartum belly band. He lay back against a reclined cushion while a kind OB-GYN rolled the ultrasound wand across his lower abdomen. Grant was speechless, dreading the possible answer to his symptoms.

Jonah stood beside him, impossibly broad now, wearing a sleeveless hoodie that showed off biceps the size of cantaloupes and a chest covered in soft chestnut hair. He could barely contain his smile. He knew what was happening even before the doctor confirmed it. The screen showed movement. Tiny flickers, and the two men gasped in shock. Grant turned pale, and Jonah couldn’t help but grin and lean to kiss Grant’s lips.

The doctor smiled warmly. “Congratulations again, Grant. You’re pregnant. And this time, it appears there are eight. Octuplets.”

Grant gasped and turned paler. “Eight?” He blinked rapidly and looked over at Jonah, who had gone from excited to absolutely ecstatic.

“Eight!” Jonah said, kissing Grant’s lips again. “I can’t believe it! You were right when you told me I’m more potent now, thanks to your milk! How cool is that?”

Grant was frozen. “I just gave birth five weeks ago. A second pregnancy is insane.”

Jonah laughed, reaching to caress Grant’s chest. “You’re just very fertile. Just imagine how big your tits are going to get this time.”

The doctor politely excused himself, and Jonah immediately leaned in to lift Grant’s shirt and latch onto a nipple, grinning while the first powerful stream of milk gushed down his chin.

Grant moaned. “They’re already sore. Fuck, I’ll get huge.”

“You’ll love it,” Jonah teased, between sucks. “And don’t worry. I’ll keep you drained. I’ll take care of everything. You just keep growing.”

****

As weeks passed, Grant grew faster than before. The octuplets seemed determined to stretch his womb past all imaginable limits. His belly grew heavy and taut before the end of the second month. By month three, he was waddling again. By month four, he couldn’t get out of bed without Jonah’s help.

His breasts became monumental. They were hot, tight, and glossy, inflating by the second and resting on his belly or even spilling to the sides when he lay down. Jonah drank constantly, and still the milk came too fast, soaking sheets, rugs, shirts, and towels. They installed a waterproof bed. Jonah started going shirtless to avoid ruining clothes and began carrying extra towels in a gym bag just to catch the spray when they went anywhere.

During the day, Jonah would kneel beside Grant on the couch, massaging the swollen, veiny curves of his chest before leaning in and suckling one nipple while gently squeezing the other. Milk poured over his lips, down his chin, splashing onto the floor in thick streams as Grant moaned, his legs trembled, and his belly twitched. At night, they would fall asleep together with Jonah curled around Grant’s back, wrapping his arms protectively over the vast swell of his middle, and one hand always cupping a leaking tit.

One afternoon, after Grant tried to put on a cardigan and failed because his chest was too massive to button it closed, they collapsed in laughter together on the bed. Jonah suckled him between chuckles, then flexed his newly thickened biceps and said, “Your milk made me a beast. I’m never drinking anything else again.”

The whole apartment was chaotic. There were towels layered under the couch cushions, extra robes stashed in every room, and a small milk fridge next to the bed for when Jonah couldn’t latch fast enough. And still, Grant swelled more. His breasts grew rounder and fuller by the week, glowing with constant pressure. The quadruplets helped Jonah drain the overflowing tits, but it wasn’t enough. Instead, the tits seemed to inflate and produce more every day.

One morning, Grant tried to sit up and gasped as his milk sprayed the wall unprovoked.

Jonah watched in awe. “Fuck, that’s hot. You’re like a geyser now.”

“I’m not a man anymore,” Grant said, exhausted as one of his hands reached to caress his enormous tit. “I’m a dairy facility.”

“You’re my man,” Jonah said firmly, kissing his lips and then his breasts. “You’re my beautiful, leaking, sexy, incredible man. And I’m going to be right here. For all of it.”

Jonah leaned in and teased both nipples, and when the milk came again, they didn’t stop. Grant could barely focus; he only wanted to enjoy Jonah’s touch and see the intern grow even more thanks to his outstanding lactation.

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Plot submitted by a Support-tier member as part of the tier's benefits.