------ Chapter 19 ------

      My second day of school was fairly similar to the first one, in the sense that a school day is fairly structured. Of course, Ms. Bianchi taught all the same science classes, one period after another. During lectures she would hold and fondle me, playing with me in her hands behind her desk or placing me under her bare foot when she saw fit. I kept quiet and gleefully rubbed and massaged her as she taught, eager to prove myself useful.  Between class periods she would make small talk with me, placing me on her desk top. I began to really look forward to this down time, because it meant I could flirt with her more. Maybe I was just seeing something that wasn’t truly there, but it seemed like the more we talked the more interested in me she was getting. Unlike our first talks, these conversations were never about serious science things, or how I got to this new reality, or about her potentially experimenting with me. Instead, she asked me questions about myself, told funny stories, laughed… all the things a woman would typically do on a date. It was really nice for a change.

      During class, I made a point to really listen to what Nina was saying when she lectured, partly because I was interested in learning more about this new world, and partly because I didn’t exactly have anything better to do with my time. I suppose I didn’t care so much about the actual content of the lectures themselves- I was more curious about the differences between the two realities. Of course, as expected her lectures were directed to an all female audience, but despite this certain comments stuck out as odd to me.

      For example, during a Biology lesson Ms. Bianchi brought up the topic of sexual dimorphism, with special regards the differences in size between human men and women. Apparently, the leading female scientists of this reality attributed the woman’s escalating size to the importance the female gender has on society. Ancient women that were larger were increasingly more able to provide for themselves, even despite pregnancy. Since she was bigger, she could hunt better, protect better, and was a more effective nurturer as her growing breasts provided food. This shift in size made men’s duties dramatically change to become almost entirely supportive of the woman’s duties. The tallest woman of the tribe was the most desirable, so she mated the most, thus spreading her genetic code to create larger and larger women. As their relative size increased over time, women came to dominate all areas of society, while men became something of an afterthought, useful only for procreation. Or so the theory goes.

      “All of this leads us to where we are today,” Ms. Bianchi concluded the lecture, dismissing the class for the period. Girls shut their books, gossiping amongst themselves, gathering their things and shuffling out of the classroom to head to the cafeteria for lunch period

      Nina waited patiently for the last schoolgirl to leave before swiftly scooping me up and carrying me into her back office. She made sure to lock her office door before reclining into her desk chair and holding me in her lap.

      “Do you know what time it is?” she smirked playfully.

      “Lunch time?” I asked.

      A big pink painted fingertip teasingly prodded me in the ribs. “That’s right. I’ve got a surprise I think you’ll like!”

      Nina opened a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of pills the size of an oil drum. With a crane-like arm, she slammed them down next to me, the pills rattling intensely inside the container from the impact.

      “Tell me what that says Dean,” she said as she eagerly pointed to the label, testing my reading ability.

      “Lact-Aid. Lactation inducing hormone therapy,” I read aloud.

       Nina smiled triumphantly and leaned back. I could tell that she was proud of me. “You hungry? I took a few last night and this morning, so it should be working already.”

      The monumental woman rolled her shoulders back and puffed up her chest to raise her colossal boobs up even more. I gazed upon her epic prow with a slacked jaw of amazement. Both mound-like breasts struggled against the emerald green fabric of her dress, begging to be freed.

      Despite my lack of typical hunger symptoms at that moment, I suddenly decided I was feeling very hungry.

      I nodded in response, mesmerized by her chest.

      With one hand, she slipped the strap of her emerald dress over her shoulder, and before long had completely taken her dress off. Gingerly, she draped it over the back of a nearby chair.  Standing only in her white lingerie she casually circled her desk, running her hand across the top and gazing down at me seductively. Her hands went to her back, searching, and then I saw a release as the tension of her bra relaxed and allowed her weighty breasts to hang. They dropped to a more natural position, pale breast flesh squeezing out of the bottom underwire of the bra slightly. Nina worked her arms through the shoulder straps, casting the bra aside and revealing her bare bosom in all its glory.

      Her full, firm boobs were nearly as tall I was. Her clear smooth skin was freckle free, and with raised pink areolas her puffed up nipples were almost as big as my head. I wasn’t sure how I was going to be able to feed from her, but Nina seemed confident.

       Taking her perfect body in, I was convinced there was no way this woman could be over her early 30s in age, yet I knew better. I couldn’t guess her exact age, but I figured she needed to be pushing 40 at least. Nina was that rare knockout that got the best of both worlds as far as age was concerned- the youthful looks, firm musculature, and wrinkle free skin of the young woman combined with the larger breasts and curvier, fuller body of the mature woman.

      Nina sat down, removed her glasses and cupped her breasts, kneading them slightly.

      “I think I’m ready. My breasts feel different, so I suppose that means the hormones are having an effect already. Let’s test it out.”

      Without waiting for a response, she reached out and grabbed me with both hands. I was only the size of a small doll to her, so she was able to manipulate me very easily. The hunched over woman cradled me, tucking me in the crook of one arm and used her free hand to deposit the engorged nipple of her boob in my face.

      The pink nipple rudely pressed into me as the weight of her boob bore down. I felt like I was being crushed slightly, and Ms. Bianchi’s warm heavy breast flesh cascaded over my lower body.

      Despite her clumsy form, I latched on and began suckling. Nina beamed and with her free hand began massaging her breast, doing her best to stimulate her release.

      Several minutes passed with no change. Ms. Bianchi continued to work her breast over but got nowhere. Frustration set in, and she switched breasts. Despite her best efforts, it appeared Ms. Bianchi was dry.

      “I know its working, I can feel it!” she grunted through gritted teeth, referring to the lactation hormones she took. “It HAS to work.”

      With my tongue, I tried my best to stimulate the milk ducts on her massive nipple for a minute before giving up. Her tit popped out of my mouth.

      “Nina, it’s ok! We can try again tonight, at dinner. I’ll be ok until then!” I piped.

      Her brow furrowed. “You sure?” she muttered, discouraged and somewhat defeated.

      “Yeah! I wasn’t that hungry anyways. Give those pills a few more hours to work. You just took them a while ago. I’m sure by tonight it’ll be fine.”

       My woman smiled coyly at my attempts to be comforting, set me down on her desktop and retrieved her bra and dress. She quickly donned them and pulled out her own lunch.

      Clearly still distraught at her failed attempt at breastfeeding, Nina ate quickly, devouring a considerable amount of food in a short time. As she ate I could see her attitude worsening. I suspected that her appetite probably increased with her size, and the food of this world was scaled a bit small for her now. Despite this fact, I also suspected that the woman was probably stress-eating a bit. She really seemed worked up, and her frustration was building.

       In the back of my mind, I knew that if she failed to be able to feed me she couldn’t reasonably expect to keep me. I would surely die. I wondered if that had anything to do with her sour attitude. Despite my curiosity, I decided against bringing up the touchy subject.

      The grumpy woman munched voraciously in silence, gazing off and thinking about something intently. At I watched, I felt the stirrings of hunger beginning in my own stomach. Distant memories of what solid food tasted like filled my imagination. It was something I missed for sure, and by the time Nina was finished I was definitely starting to get hungry.

      My teacher lifted me up to her lips and deposited a kiss on my face before rising and walking back to the classroom. Lunch period was concluded, and she needed to teach the next class. My stomach grumbled a retort.

      Was I going to make it through the day?