Legless and Milky

No more than a week and a half after the completion of Milk Palace, life with mysterious mutations got interesting again.

As Rose slept, her body underwent another stage of dramatic change: what had been her leg stumps over this one night converted into a huge pair of matched breasts. These two new titanic titters were already bigger than any of her existing breasts, apart from her upper left with the 4 teats, which she’d recently started referring to as Uddy, given how more and more it was starting to resemble a scaled-down version of my own udder.

Now there’s a phrase most people don’t ever utter: “my own udder”.

Given the banging and other noises from Rose’s room which awoke me, I briefly thought that a raccoon or other small critter had gotten into the house. As I woke up more, it sounded like she was pleasuring herself, yet not exactly in a manner I was used to hearing: far more intense and energetic.

Quietly I got up, easing myself into her room so as not to startle her in case I was mistaken and she was having an intense dream or something.

Immediately I could see all the outer changes visible on her body, and that she was as deep into self-pleasuring as I’d ever seen anyone—including myself! So deep in was she that she didn’t notice my presence, allowing me to continue silently watching her.

The way she power-suckled Uddy’s teats like there was no tomorrow as she groped and caressed herself all over with all 4 hands like a maniac seriously aroused me! Hhhhh—I’m getting excited and moist remembering it right now as I type this: the way she kept touching, caressing, and groping her many breasts, treating them like the prizes they are; and the way she joyously worked her enlarged (I later learned) clit inside her vastly bigger slot had me worked up then, and again right now. Wooh!

It should come as no surprise that I became so worked up that my front tentacles crept towards her, almost as though they were sentient and on a sensual sex mission of their own accord.

She looked a little startled when she first noticed in her peripheral vision my 4 tentadongs sexy sneaky snaking their way towards her. Without even taking a breather from the teat she was currently power suckling, her nearby being-tugged teat and the hand tugging it gave me a teat-and-thumb-up go-ahead.

Moments later, she decided at least a few words were in order, briefly dropping her current in-mouth teat to share, “Look at my huge honeypot hoo-ha! Hoooo-WEEE!” she giggled, flashing me ever the more with her vastly-grown vulva, before plunging her lower-right hand back in, this time apparently fisting herself.

Hormones are interesting things. Here only weeks ago when her feet and legs went to stumps but she could still walk, she struggled with coping. Now today when her legs are totally gone and she can’t walk, she’s all playful flirty giggly happy.

Even with four hands and a very capable mouth, Rose’s boobs outnumbered those sex-serving body parts by twice: 10 boobs, or 9 + 1 udder, with 9 nipples and 4 teats to pleasure—and that magnificent mound! Both of us enjoyed my tentacocks caressing her currently-unengaged boobs. While it felt great and I could feel everything in exquisite detail all the way across the room (amazing if you stop and think about it), I wanted to be closer to her and feel more!

With both of us growing ever-more excited, I had a suggestion: “In my room we have much more space.”

“Take me and bed me, darling! I’m boobaciously hot!” she over-dramatized in her deeply aroused state.

Those 4 friendly fleshy tentacles already near her and pleasuring her (and me!) made quick work of easing themselves around her, bodily lifting and carrying her as she kept on self-sexing. Even for me with all my strength, it’s still easier to carry heavier objects closer to my body than further away, hence my reason beyond passionate intimacy to bring her all the way in against my own bodacious bosom(s) before turning and moving us towards my bedroom.

With me comfortably lying back in bed and Rose reclined atop my profoundly pillowy udder, it was off to the races.

There may never before have been two humans (at least partially human) so profoundly built for sex: over-endowed, with an embarrassment of genital and other sensual body part riches. In this position it was impressive how much of, and how many things on, each other we could reach. She had one hand on my engorged upper left teat, another ravaging one of Uddy’s teat nipples, another working one of my left-side tentacocks in an especially arousing manner, and yet another giving equally breathtaking stimulation to my huge right nipple. All 8 of my tentadongs were happily dicking around. Beyond the one in Rose’s stimulating grip, several were playing with her nipples, one was playfully teasing her over her right shoulder, one had the honor of being in her mouth—uuunnf! I really love how she sucks my cocks!, and not one, but two were double-teaming her downtown: one visiting her vag, the other tantalizing her clit.

The vagina visit revealed an internal mutation neither of us had realized.

“Keep going in! (huff)” she panted, in the throes of pleasure when I first slid into her.

Despite being equally lost to arousal, concern about hitting her cervix (again. It will be kind of you not to ask about that first-time arousal-quashing ouchie) gave me focus, “Are you sure?”

“(huff) Yes! (pant)”

“OK (huff). Going real slow (puff). Tell me when.”

I eased my tentaprick deeper into her, millimeter by millimeter, slowly.

Shock layered on top of my arousal, “(huff, huff) I’ve never been in you this far before, Rose! (huff)”

“I know! (pant) And it’s great! (pant) And you need to keep going and going! (puff)”

“Tell me when! (pant)”

“(huff) I will, I promise! (pant) MOOOORRRREEE!”

It was completely unreal. Neither one of us had realized that her vaginal canal kept growing longer as her body grew downward as her legs shrunk! I went in deeper than the full length of her original legs, no problem!

Nothing else mattered, other than sex, sex, and more sex! We only managed to take a break for a quick bite and a bathroom trip midday, then one other bathroom break towards evening—and Rose would only allow those breaks if we got right back to sex afterward, with which I heartily concurred!

By the end of the day we’d shared sex in uncountable different ways, definitely including each of my 8 tentacle peni making an individual all-the-way-in deep penetration of her newly-discovered long tunnel vagina, at Rose’s insistence (and my great pleasure!). We fell asleep together in my bed, exhausted.

My growing room-filling enormous with milk after sex was known and expected. This morning was Rose’s first experience waking up with Uddy all distended to an extreme, full of milk and with her udder teats engorged, all ready to distribute that milk.

However, that wasn’t all: Rose gained some new “additions” overnight.

She quickly discovered another new pair of arms spaced further down on her body, quite near her newest brand-new additional pair of breasts. Had she not spent the entire previous day wholly immersed in sensuality and sexuality, she might have been more enthusiastically feeling and otherwise inspecting herself. Tired as she was (even after the night’s sleep), she seemed more dazed-resigned, during her self-exploration.

As with the last pair, the two new arms were not yet well under her control, though she did have some control straightaway and unlike the last pair, these came in fully-formed. New worries about where her mutations might go from here and how we’d maintain any quality of life had her lying back down, cuddling into me for emotional support and easing us both back to sleep.

Life and the passage of time went on; we needed to get up. The extra sleep did help her (and me).

Rose tried and succeeded to get herself into the bathroom on her own. As with one of her earlier sudden mutations, she needed nearly 2 hours of private time in the bathroom near the mirror, studying herself and coming to terms with the latest changes. I learned later that some of that time was dedicated to practicing moving around with her new arms and hands. She explained that this was easier for her on the smooth, clean bathroom floor.

What was clearest of all was when she emerged and found me, she’d already embraced these latest changes as wonderful gifts, facing her situation and the world with renewed optimism and a greater-than-ever commitment towards finding a path to an even better life. It was so stirring to see and hear this from her that it amped up my own optimism, hopefulness, and gratitude!

With each passing day of this first week after this latest round of changes, Rose became more accustomed to her situation, and changed abilities. Her mobility walking on her hands became much better—especially since receiving the short arm braces she’d ordered, needed to give her the arm span lift to keep her getting-huge udder off the ground. Even with all her seamstress skills and even when emptied out, all that fleshy weight led to serious gravity-induced sag.

On the subject of sewing, what she’s lost in walking mobility she’s gained in manual dexterity. She discovered that sewing work helped jump-start finer control over her new arms and hands. What I noticed more than sewing was that she’d become a dishwashing and drying ninja. I’ve been no slouch in this regard since growing my tentacles sufficiently, but without opposable thumbs, I have to be careful with my grip. She has much better control and can wash then rinse then dry with each pair of hands in that order, after which she hands off to me for my easier long-reach stacking and put-away.

“Hi hi multiply handy lover” I smiled, as she wandered back inside the house after a walk on the deck, “Care for an udderly wonderful cuddle?”

“Yes, as long as you’re ready for me to boob-worm my way back into your heart” she smiled back.

“You never leave my heart, you sensual soft sweetheart” I told her as my tentacles took possession of her, bringing her close to me.

Something I saw concerned me. “Are those scuff marks on your rear pair?”

“Yeah. I still haven’t worked out how I want to combine that biggest bottom bra top with pussy-protecting undies.”

“So you cover the latter and let the former fend for themselves?”

“For now, yes. So what’s happening with the Fingleheimer site?”

“Nothing: can’t get rights to the song they want to use.”

We spoke of other everyday events in our lives, then decided to watch a movie together, remaining all lovey-dovey cuddled. Picking one out proved interesting: for fun we did a search on “movie with people with udders”, which brought us to a dodgy porn site and something called Milk Maiden Madness. It was free, so with our ad and pop-up and other blockers on and at the ready, we gave it a go.

“BAAAH haaah haaah haaaaah!” Rose laughed, pointing at the screen, “Those are so ridiculously fake and inaccurate!”

I was snickering rather than outright belly laughing. “I like the way they’re pretending to struggle with moving around with those little ersatz udders that don’t even have any proper dynamics of being liquid-filled, like they’re the heaviest, most impossible things in the world (snicker).”

She turned and faced, me, excited wide-eyed. “I know!”

It was too campy and ridiculous, with low production values (as one would expect of free porn content). Besides, we were both in the mood for something more romantic. We found a new one called Crafting A New Life, about a couple of women who befriend each other when they keep meeting at craft supply shops and local craft sales, gradually discovering that each of their lives has shattered in a different way, with each of them struggling to put their individual life back together. Putting their crafty minds together, they soon find themselves bonding in love far stronger than any glues or cements in their extensive craft supply collections.

It’s really good, if you’re into romantic chick flick stuff. Rose and I certainly were, back on this day. Didn’t bother either of us at all that it was cast with normal human women—or I should say the Hollywood stereotype of the perfect woman. Cuddled together sharing the life experience of profound mutations and particularly now both having highly active lactating udders, Rose and I had our own contented normal.

“Which one should I pull from?”

“Upper left.”

Squirrrrt, squirrrrt, squirrrrt, squirrrrt, dribble dribble dribble

These next couple of weeks after Rose’s third arm pair mutation event were a new high mark in her and my lives—individually and now more recently together. Every day of our new routine we loved it—and life—more and more.

While not remotely as giant as my own, Rose’s udder kept on producing milk: a good 4 liters a day, even without sex. Indeed, the one down point in our lives at this time was needing to eschew sex with each other, to try and keep the mutations at bay. Living in bodies as innately sensual as ours now were, there was no way to avoid feeling aroused on nearly a daily basis from merely existing. Attempting to suppress these feelings would only harm us—this much I knew from what introductory medical and related psychological studies I’d completed. We managed by keeping it solo, which made it easier for us to get off (or whatever else we wanted) once per session (usually once per day for a full orgasm), rather than going all-in on extended indulgence. Whether coincidence or causal, so far the mutations ceased under this regimen.

The thing about Rose’s milk is that it tastes amaaaaazing!: decadently rich and creamy, with a wonderful sweet (but not cloyingly so) flavor profile. I may have the edge on quantity—especially on occasional sex days we do share together aimed at milk production—but Rose is all over the top on quality. So much so that we sequester her milk in dedicated distinct containers, which remain separate through the co-op and all along the chain. They’re selling it as premium grade, for more money. This has led to me teasingly using the pet name “Premium” for Rose, and her in turn calling me “Regular”, akin to gasoline octane rating designators here in the U.S.

Indeed, today’s pull draw directly into my coffee mug was sublime. So are the sensations of expressing milk from Uddy, according to Rose. It’s so sensual to her that she indicates it’s basically a form of sex if done repeatedly for long enough at a time. It feels good to me to express out my udder teats too, but nothing like what she reports! Given the difference I notice between expressing from my boob nipples vs. from my udder teats, and how the former is more erotic, Rose’s sensations may be related to her udder being where a breast would normally be, with those sorts of nerve ending hookups, rather than down low where my udder is on me.

Her newest arms have been fully functional and capable for awhile now. I’m highly impressed with how swiftly she’s reached the point of taking for granted that she no longer has legs and is in effect a 6-arm boob worm woman. She gets around now as easily as I do, and in fact no faster than me, especially indoors, since I have to be so mindful of how I move my huge body and especially all my tentacles—other than in the Milk Palace, where we milk each other and ourselves. I can’t tell you how happy Rose is to be a peer milk producer with me, deserving to be in there for clean, sterile, minimally messy milking and milk capture every bit as much as I am.

Whatever is going on with Rose’s spine is interesting. She still has one, which both of us can feel, so it remains straightforward for her to sit up without having to exert ongoing strong muscle control to hold herself upright, for example. At the same time, she can flex a lot more than I can on my upper body, or any regular human can: more like a worm or snake. It’s puzzling, and something else I wouldn’t mind researching in some alternate universe where our lives were routine and accepted, and I still had med school resource and learning access.