“Fucking bitch!” I yelled and threw my handbag onto the table, then watched it slide across its shiny surface. It ended up falling off the far end, right at Mandy’s perfectly pedicured feet. She was wearing her open-toe red pumps again, the ones that made her tower over most men. It occurred to me that she’d make a fantastic Dominatrix, at least looks-wise. 

“Someone’s in a pissy mood,” she mumbled and I glared at her. I was so not in the mood. 

“So what? Got a problem with me, take it up with my brother.”

“Sheesh, girl! Chill. I’m not looking for a cat fight. Just better hurry and at least put your apron on before Adrian sees you’re late again.”

“My brother can go fuck himself. Today’s going to be shit, I can just tell.”

Mandy made a face and bent down to pick up my bag. “Okay, but I need you out here, the morning rush of decaffeinated corporate zombies is not something I want to deal with alone. I swear, those suits can’t find their way to good manners unless they’re on their second cup of the day,” she sighed.

I snatched the bag from her and took a deep breath. “Sorry, Mandy, I’m being a bitch and taking it out on you.”

She shrugged and, like a good coworker, slapped my ass, motioning for the staff room. “Go change, first, then you can tell me all about it while we make some men happy.”

“I wish some men would make me happy instead,” I laughed.

And I also took the joke a step too far, because Mandy rolled eyes at me.

I entered the staff room and locked the door behind me, in case one of the guys had some business inside. The last thing I needed was for one of them to start hitting on me, or worse, crushing on me and for my brother to find out. 

He’d beat the crap out of him, fire him, and then lecture me to death. My brother wasn’t fun to be around on a good day, but now with his power trips, he’s a downright douche.

So I began to change into my work uniform, a basic white blouse which had the cafe’s name embroidered above my right tit, Café Plaisir – Pleasure Coffee House – when I felt an odd tingling in my boobs. I massaged them a little, but I didn’t dwell on it much. Perhaps it was just some leftover discomfort from my earlier… altercation. Damn bitch. I layered my apron on top of the blouse, tied my hair in a ponytail, and by the time I got to the coffee station, the line was already ten zombies long.

“So what happened?” Mandy asked while she was taking orders. She preferred being behind the counter, dealing with money, plating desserts and packing sandwiches than go through the pain of learning how to make latte art. Her cute foam milk hearts looked more like stunted dicks, which wasn’t really the vibe we were going for here, despite the brand name.

“I knew I was going to be late, so I cut through Young Street, where that Streetbucks is located.”

“Uh oh.”

“Yeah. But wait, it gets worse.”

“You saw the menu and you remembered that October was PSL month?”

“No, cause I never forgot it in the first place.”


“Some stupid bitch wasn’t looking where she was going, bumped into me and spilled her precious pumpkin spice latte on herself.”

“And of course she blamed you.”

“Of course.”

“And of course, you didn’t keep your mouth shut and instead set her straight.”

“Of course. Except she wouldn’t learn her lesson and kept mumbling at me in some strange language.”


“I know what French sounds like, lol, it wasn’t that. It seemed European, so I guess half a point for you.”

“Yeah, I suppose that having an argument with someone like that, first thing in the morning could sour your day. But only if you let it.”

I felt like pouring the iced Americano I was preparing on her stupid head. She had these zen philosophies, about being chill and happy and letting things slide off you like water off a duck’s back or something equally stupid. I wasn’t like that. My brother said I had a temper, but I was just simply no one’s doormat. 

Before working at this coffee shop that my parents decided to open a few months ago, I had been secretly working as a barista. With a fake ID, but that was not what mattered now. What mattered was that I had long since learned how to deal with touchy men, pushy men, and pissed-off bitches that thought I had a thing with their men, simply because my work outfit was on the skanky side. People just didn’t mess with me, or if they did, they did not get away with it. Except for her. Something about that PSL bitch kept me riled up, still. I couldn’t get over the incident and I couldn’t shake this odd feeling, like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, that this infuriating thing wasn’t over yet.

“Fuck!” I yelped. I had been lost in my rage and failed to notice I had poured too much tea in the to-go cup. I nearly scalded my left hand. 

“Everything ok?” Mandy asked, finally concerned.

I didn’t curse on the job. I might be eighteen and not much of an adult, but I was old and wise enough to know I needed my money and I had to do anything to keep the jobs I landed.

“Yeah, sorry, just a little distracted.”

I couldn’t wait for the morning crowd to get lost and so I could take a short break. My breasts were killing me. I wanted to take my clothes off and just go bare. 

So when the clock hit 10 and the last zombie left the coffee shop, his dose of caffeine balanced precariously in his hand, I snuck into the staff room and took off my blouse and bra.

I was a pretty big-chested girl, proud of my 30DDs, but what was staring back at me now looked like generous Fs. I pressed a finger against my right breast, wincing. What the heck? I couldn’t have slammed into that bitch so badly, that I was aching still. And yet, here I was, in such pain, my boobs so swollen, they gained in size, unable to put my clothes back on. What the hell was I supposed to do? 

I kept touching myself, gingerly, when I noticed something leaking out of my nipples. It was a warm brown color, like, well, a latte, for lack of a better comparison term. 

I pinched my nipple and it squirted liquid right onto the mirror.


I pinched myself again.

Again, I squirted more brown liquid.

I grabbed a cup from the water dispenser and squeezed my boob liquid into it. It somehow lessened the ache and when I brought it to my face, to sniff it, I thought it smelled like… pumpkin spice.

But that couldn’t be.

I sipped a bit.

Then a bit more.

No way.

It tasted just like a pumpkin spice latte.

I had to sit down.

I replayed in my mind the earlier encounter. I clearly recalled my feelings of dread and the chills that went through my body when that bitch went off in that weird language of hers.

Had she somehow cursed me? Was that even possible? Was she a witch or what?

I looked at my cup of breastmilk latte and shook my head.

No. I was going insane. This was just a trick of the mind. A very odd one, but no way. Perhaps it was just regular breastmilk and I had… triggered something. Yeah, definitely. Women did lactate out of nowhere, no? Something or another, a condition I had no idea about just happened to get triggered today. I bet that if Mandy tasted it, she’d confirm it was just milk. 

Yes, I had to ask her and then… figure out a lie. I would tell her she was drinking the usual milk we had here because I thought it had gone sour and needed a second opinion. Yeah.

I grabbed a different cup and squeezed my other breast milk into it, breathing a sigh of relief at how good that felt. So good, I could finally put my bra back on.

With a plan fully formed in my mind and two cups of what was most definitely not a pumpkin spice breastmilk latte, I opened the door and nearly bumped into my brother. I stopped myself just in time and spared my poor breasts more pain.

“What were you doing in there? I counted. Fifteen minutes. That’s half your break and it’s not even noon yet,” Adrian scolded me, ever the perfect employee. He has had a stick up his ass ever since mom and dad gave him the manager position here, simply because he was the future man of the house.

“I had an emergency. Girl stuff, you don’t need to know,” I said, hoping to yuck him out of further questions.

“Uh-huh,” he said, unconvinced. I followed his gaze to the cups I was holding. “You know, a coffee break isn’t the end of the world. So why are you lying to me?”

“I wasn’t… this is, uh, I think the milk’s gone sour. I was just checking it.”

He arched his eyebrow at me. Yep, he did not believe a word I was saying.

“Uh-huh. In the staff room. Two cups,” he shook his head at me. “You know, Brianna, I can smell it from over here.”

“That bad, huh? Totally sour, I knew it,” I said and tried to walk past him, but he blocked my way again.

“I can smell the pumpkin spice.”

I froze. Shit. So he could smell it too. It wasn’t just all in my head. I dropped the cups onto the nearest shelf. I didn’t want to touch them anymore. Shit. I was lactating hot beverages. What the hell?! 

“Brianna, what’s with you? I know you hate that drink, you fought me over putting it on the menu like your life depended on it. And now you were hiding some of it in there? Did you buy it from the competition? Streetbucks? Did you finally cave in or did aliens kidnap my actual sister?”

“Just leave me alone,” I said, panicked, and tried to get past him, by force. 

He didn’t move in time and in my hurry to get away, I hit his arm with my chest, wetting it.

“Dude, what the hell!” he yelled, then saw that the cups were not in my hands and grabbed my arm, keeping me in place. “Brianna?” his horrified blue eyes, about the only physical trait we had in common other than height, zeroed in on my wet blouse and apron, now stained.

I let him march me back inside the staff room.
“Bri, what is going on? Why are you, uh… what’s with…”

I crossed my arms over my chest, my breasts hurting again, and I stared at the floor. I knew that he knew what was going on. To some extent, at least. My laptop broke this one time and I asked him if he could lend me his for a day and I accidentally saw his browsing history while trying to delete mine. Adrian had a major thing for uh, let’s call them “milky boobs”. He jerked off to men suckling on women’s engorged tits, gulping on breastmilk like they were starving or something. The messier the feed, the more he liked it, judging by what he favorited on this website he kept coming back. He had even made an account and commented on things and so how could I tell him the truth about me now? 

It was so embarrassing!

He reached out a tentative, shaking hand and he tried to pry my hands off my chest.

“Bri, are you… you know? Did you get knocked up?”


“But your… boobs…”

I nodded, ashamed, hoping that would be enough and that he would finally leave me alone.

“Can I help?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I whispered, retreating into the wall, making myself as small as possible. I could feel his eyes on me. He was undressing me, thinking of the mechanics of the whole thing. Jesus, if he asked me to take my clothes off now, I would simply die of shame!

“Bri,” he said and knelt before me, “I know I can be a bit of a jerk and that I tease you too much, but I’m your brother. I’ve been here for you since you were a baby.”

“I know, you always stole my dessert out of my lunch boxes, asshole,” I let out in a small voice I barely recognized as my own.

“Brianna. Sis. You can talk to me. Or do you want me to call mom?”

Somehow the idea horrified me. My mom was so… perfect. I still remembered how she scolded me for wearing white during my messy shark week. She was not the person I went to when I was in trouble. Dad was. Or well, in this case, Mandy would have to do. But she wasn’t the best-roasted coffee around here and she’d probably end up being of no help at all.

“I’m fine, I just… I need a moment?”

“Massage them,” he said, hushed.

I raised my eyes to look at him. “What do you know about these things?”

“I know you know about my porn.” My eyes widened and I swear I was about to bolt, but his hands on me kept me rooted. “But what you don’t know is that when Sally was born, I helped mom with her aching breasts.”


“Not that important now, but I could help you, if you would let me, that is.”

My mind ran in circles around his help offer. On one hand, fuck yes, I could use some relief, because I wasn’t sure I could pop back in here every other hour and basically milk myself, but on the other hand, this was Adrian. My brother! My real, flesh and blood actual brother! But then back round again, he said mom let him do it for her? How come I had no idea?

“Trust me, sis, please.”

I relented, defeated by the honest look in his eyes and the insufferable pain in my boobs and I took off my clothes again. 

It turned out that was the best decision of my life, because his cold hands on me felt divine. It felt even better when he started massaging me, palming my huge breasts in his hands, easing my ache to the point I let my head fall back and I closed my eyes, enjoying the sweet relief. 

But he didn’t stop there. I felt his lips close around my right nipple and then he was sucking on it. 

Holy shit! 

My brother was sucking on my breast, drinking from me, and moaning. 


My body felt so hot and the feeling of being drained was so delicious, I was soon moaning too, pressing his head against my chest, encouraging him to drink more. When nothing more could be taken from my right breast, he moved to the left one and my need for him changed. He was subconsciously still kneading my empty breast and something hot began to build low in my belly. Something that was telling me to spread my legs and make him kiss me down there, too. I cradled his head

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