after hours of research i find a reddit thread that recommends a small business called Love Potion no. 69, which claims to be the world’s leading ‘kinky apothecary’ offering tried-and-true patented formulas. their lactation supplement promises quick results, but warns in large print that it should not under any circumstances be used to produce milk that will be consumed by actual babies. a few of the reviews vaguely allude to some unexpected side effects but they’re all 5 stars, so i take a leap.

as part of my new supplement regimen, i start asking you to massage my tits daily, using specific lactation-promoting motions. i don’t give you a reason, but you’re happy to obey without asking. i encourage you to suck my nipples even more, and for longer. you blissfully oblige.

a couple months of patience pay off, on the day that you latch onto my nipple and a beat later your eyes fly wide, unlatching to sputter, “um- i just- there was something…”

i blink at you innocently. “what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

you smack your lips, tasting my milk on your tongue. your face is flushed so hot i can feel it radiating off you. “nothing. uh. never mind.”

“well? you’re not done, pet,” i chide softly, and grab you by the neck to force your mouth onto my nipple again. you muffle a moan of surprise and pleasure, squirming as you drink my milk. you try to pull away, but i hold your head firmly in place. then you suck harder a moment, brow furrowed. disappointment flickers across your face. the milk must have ran out- the supplement product listing did say there wouldn’t be much to start with- and no doubt you’re starting to think you imagined it.

i nudge you to my other nipple, and your discovery repeats, eager suckling and moans, followed quickly by the letdown, faint confusion. you bury your face in my stomach and curse softly, overwhelmed. i giggle and pet your head. i finally come clean about my secret supplement program.

“holy shit…” you gape at me in awe and disbelief. “how did you know?”

i smirk. “it’s cute that you think you were subtle.”

at first you hungrily finish my supply in under a minute, twice daily, but you keep sucking and massaging with renewed purpose. you’re rewarded for your efforts, as each day there seems to be more and more. i knew my tits would get a little bigger but i didn’t expect to outgrow all my bras. i relish the effect all this has on you- you’re so easily distracted, losing all coherent thought every time i lift or pull down my shirt to demand you tend to me. i’m constantly having to repeat myself and give you a little extra patience because you’re so overcome, strung out on the pleasure of your ultimate fantasy fulfilled.

one day i wake up with painfully full and sloshy tits, leaking and desperate for release. i roll over and reach down, where you’re curled up on your own soft dog bed, and pet you awake. “g’morning, sweetheart,” i murmur, as you slowly stir, eyes blinking open. i pat the mattress. “come up here. i need you to nurse.”

you let out a happy whine and clamber up, under the covers. you’re still barely awake as you wrap your arms around me, one leg hooked over my hip, and start suckling my tits, letting out small contented sounds. i sigh in relief. it feels like all my milk came in at once overnight. looking down at how enormous my tits are, i can hardly believe the transformation. i wonder if i’m going to have to start pumping, because surely this is too much for you to drink in one sitting.

but you’re up to the challenge, it seems. i don’t know how long it takes you because i start to drift off to sleep again, but i stir awake when i hear your voice.

“fuuuck,” you groan, burying your face between my now-empty tits, arms tight around my waist. you let out a little burp, and mumble, “your milk ‘tastesso good.”

i smile, attributing your slurred speech to the early hour and your sated, happy state. i stroke your hot cheek. “can you please get us some water, love?”

you untangle yourself from me, and try to get up. you promptly fall off the bed, with a thud, and burst into giggles. i watch in mild alarm as you struggle to your feet, still giggling. you stumble into my en suite, fill a glass with water, and try to carry it back to my bed. you’re staggering comically slow, brow knit in concentration, trying and failing to keep the water from sloshing everywhere. “that was hard,” you laugh, delivering the much-reduced water to the bedside table. “i feel tingly, bytheway. an’ warm.”

i motion for you to sit down, and you misjudge your momentum, crashing into me. i brace your shoulders, demand, “look at me.” you obey. your face is flushed, eyes glassy. your pupils are blown wide and dark despite the bright sunlight streaming through the window.

you grin, and lean in to kiss me. i taste the echo of my own milk on your breath, sweet and thick and strange, yet strangely comforting. you kiss me sloppy and wet, breathless, your hands all over me. you climb onto me to try and rut into my thigh.

“wanna fuck, wanna please- please i need it so *hic* so fuckin’ bad,” you slur into my lips.

i allow you another kiss, then give you a firm squeeze on the back of your neck, digging in with my nails. the signal that means you’re misbehaving and better shape up.

“you need it, huh?” i use my softest, lowest, most effective voice. “what you need is to be a good boy for me.”

you nod, chastened.

i point. “get up. go walk in a straight line from the window to the door with your arms outstretched at your sides.”

you fail the sobriety test miserably. pitching to either side, stepping out of the line to catch your balance, wobbling whenever you hiccup.

“i do a goo’ job? can i fuck you now?” you climb up onto me, kissing and licking and biting wherever you can reach. “fuck, you taste so good an’ you *hic* smell so good and i gotta be inside you. please, please-”

it’s the milk. something in the supplement has caused my milk to act like a drug in your system, and you don’t even seem to have noticed. this must be the ‘unexpected side effect’ the reviews were talking about. it’s first thing in the morning and you’re acting the way you would after five or six shots, then smoking a bowl. you’ve slid down to drool into my thigh, nuzzling your face under my nightie and into my panties, giving my clit a warm flick with the tip of your tongue against the fabric. i shiver, but catch myself just in time.

i snap my fingers, and you freeze.

“come here. now.”

you struggle to all fours and slide back up, face to face with me. i hook a nail under your chin. you gasp, and let out a drunken, nervous chuckle.

“did i give you permission?”

“n-no, Mistress.” your eyes are bright with fear, but you can’t repress your giggles. whenever you get in trouble while intoxicated- and you often do, my naughty horny pup- you giggle uncontrollably. “sorry, Mistress.”

i tilt my head, eyebrows raised. “you think this is funny?”

you’re trembling, unsteady on your hands and knees. you let out another chuckle, more air than sound, then clamp your mouth shut. you gulp. “no, Mistress.” you have that adorable, trying-to-act-sober expression, which only makes you look more sloshed. “‘s not funny.”

it’s hard to stay mad at you. such a cute, desperate pup, helpless to their urges. “awww, poor thing, you can’t help it,” i coo. i rake my fingers through your hair, scratching your head. you instantly relax. your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open. i hum, pleased. “you’re just my dumb milk-drunk puppy, aren’t you. you didn’t mean to. you got a little stupid off my milk this morning, that’s all.”

you’re no longer capable of comprehending my words. your eyes have totally glazed over, jaw slack, saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth, just from my nails on your scalp. the milk must heighten your senses, too- no wonder you’re such a wreck, poor thing.

i catch your drool with my other hand, let it moisten my palm, then reach down into your boxers and wrap around you, feel you so hard and throbbing. i rub your leaky head with the pad of my thumb. your breath catches, and you slump into me, shuddering. i chuckle. i can practically see the stars spinning around your foggy little head. i know you’re feeling so good, so weak and dizzy. i also know you’d rather cum in my pussy than my hand, but you’re too drunk for that.

i murmur in your ear while i jack you off, “you did such a good job drinking all my milk, sweet thing. but i think you had a little too much, and now you need me to take care of you. to make sure you behave.”

you moan open-mouthed in reply, bucking your hips into my hand and panting, whining into my neck. you fall apart in my lap, with a pathetic keening noise. i use your boxers to contain your mess. “look at me,” i order again. you can barely lift your head, so i grab your face in both hands. i’m curious to see if an orgasm did anything to help dry you out, but your face looks even more dazed and delirious than before, and i wonder if this is going to be a problem, you getting utterly wasted on my milk several times a day.

i grin, and kiss your slack, drooling mouth.