LACTOGENESIS XXXV: 

THE STAFF MEETING, PART THREE 
 
	Monique's dress was soon bunched about her waist. In sharp contrast to 
the women sitting around her, her breasts could barely fill an A cup. It 
was doubtful she had ever worn a bra in her life. Yet they seemed to fit 
her diminutive frame perfectly; if she had been more heavily endowed, it 
would've ruined the pixyish line of her figure. Her areolae were barely 
darker than the surrounding skin which looked as if it had never seen 
the sun. They were large for such small breasts, about three centimeters 
in diameter. The most striking feature were the nipples, which were not 
particularly long, even when erect as they were now, but which were 
quite fat, almost as thick as a man's thumb. They were crisscrossed with 
tiny fissures that were brimming with a liquid that was quite undeniably 
mother's milk. 	Monique showed no hesitation in baring her breasts before 
a group of strangers. Chris suspected that such activity occupied a 
substantial part of Monique's waking hours. I must try to sneak into a 
La Leche League meeting sometime, she thought. I wonder if this kind of 
thing goes on during them as well. 	Monique held her empty champagne 
glass under one breast. With the other hand, she stretched the skin on 
either side of one areola, then pressed inward toward her chest wall 
while squeezing and rolling her fingers and thumb forward. What little 
breast was there was so incredibly firm that her fingers hardly dented 
the tissue. The other women gasped as an amazingly thick stream 
(actually the consolidation of at least a dozen tinier streams) of milk 
gushed into the glass, filling it almost an eighth of the way just from 
that one squeeze. She had to repeat the motion only a few more times 
from each breast before the glass was completely full, and even then it 
was clear from the rate at which her nipples continued to drip that 
Monique herself was nowhere near empty. 	When Chris could tear her eyes 
away from Monique's display, she noted with some amusement that every 
other woman in the room except herself had their forearms pressed 
tightly against their bosoms in a classic move designed to stave off an 
uncontrolled letdown reflex. Monique's squirting had undoubtedly 
triggered a similar response in each of them. Chris, of course, had the 
advantage of superior subconscious control of her reflex. She did notice 
a little more fullness in her own tits, however. 	When the other women 
finally noticed their collective reaction, they all began laughing. It 
was as if all the girls sharing an apartment suddenly realized that 
their periods were synchronized. In that moment the bond among them 
strengthened. Monique instantly ceased to be an outsider as she laughed 
with them. Even Chris was not fully immune to the effect she was having 
on the group. 	Sherri, who was clearly aroused from this (Chris 
remembered that hers had been the only other set of lactating breasts 
Sherri had ever seen besides her own), whistled and slowly shook her 
head. "I'm ready for a piece of humble pie, girl. I would never have 
thought in a million years that those little things could make so much. 
How is it possible?" 	"My doctor tells me that I have an unusually dense 
concentration of glandular tissue in my breasts," Monique replied as she 
casually dabbed her nipples dry with a napkin and began pulling up her 
dress. "In fact, my breasts are almost all gland. Very little fatty 
tissue. That's why my nips are so big -- there are a lot of ducts that 
connect to them." She offered the glass. "Anyone care to taste?" There 
were no takers, so Monique promptly drank her milk herself. Eleanor's 
lip curled slightly in disgust. "That's why I've never considered 
implants. There's so much intricate plumbing and innervation in there 
that any attempt at surgery would probably sever the necessary 
connections and dry me up for good, and I wouldn't like that." She stole 
a quick wink at Jeremy, who smiled back. 	Chris suddenly understood how 
Jeremy could prefer Monique to herself. Her tiny stature made Jeremy, 
who was small himself, feel taller. Jeremy was also absolutely obsessed 
with lactating women -- he wouldn't have started the Lac-Station 
otherwise. While Chris enjoyed her special talent very much, it was not 
something that controlled her life. Although it had enriched her sex 
life immensely, she knew she could live without it. One of the side 
effects of The Accident had been her ability to completely control her 
ability to lactate, down to shutting it down completely if she wanted to 
(although she hadn't tried to do that for quite some time). As a result, 
Chris never felt as if her breasts ran her life. Monique's very 
existence, on the other hand, appeared to rotate about her milky boobs. 
No wonder Jeremy was so enamored of her. Chris's anger toward Jeremy 
gradually melted into indifference, perhaps tinged with a little pity. 
There is more to life than milk, she thought. These poor people don't 
seem to know that. I wonder if Jeremy could ever get off with a woman 
who wasn't lactating. Probably not. For Monique's part, I'd be willing 
to bet that she's one of those women that, if she were ever diagnosed 
with breast cancer, would rather die than have a mastectomy. They're 
made for each other. In that moment, Chris realized that her affair with 
Jeremy was over. She was mildly surprised to be feeling relief rather 
than sadness. It had been that way with Carl, too. 	When she snapped out 
of her reverie, Chris realized that the meeting had gone on without her. 
The others were regaling the group with reports of recent encounters 
with their various clients. Eleanor started off, speaking with pride 
about her experience wet-nursing an infant who had recently had surgery 
to correct a cleft palate. Its mother had been unable to keep her own 
milk going while the baby recovered. Despite its disadvantage, the 
little boy had thrived from Eleanor's rich milk. Chris smiled when she 
spotted Sherri fidgeting. Her body language was clearly saying "Fine, 
fine. Now let's get on to the juicy parts." 	Sherri didn't have to wait 
long. Janine was next. Her most recent assignment had been as a private 
dancer for a bachelor party. The young men in question were the spoiled 
progeny of very well-to-do parents. 
 They lived in a very exclusive fraternity house of a private university 
outside of town.