Growing into the Job, Post 573: A Quiet House, p3 (Ashleigh Visits)

deep breath, inhaling slowly through the bra-mask, scent flooding my lungs again

Was I just asleep?

floral, warm, electric. Melissa’s sweat, her scent, stirring my fucking cock despite everything.

What the hell is happening?!?

The silence dragged, heavy as Melissa's footsteps had when she rattled the house around me like an earthquake in a tomb. She’d left me hog-tied to the bed, lashed to the posts with her bras. That had been how long ago? Five minutes? Five hours? I don’t know! Maybe I’d dozed but my cock was wide awake again. The cat - the fucking cat - had been able to make me come. That was how sick I was: once Melissa was gone her long-haired tabby had rubbed against me and it was all over. All over it, all over me. This was priapism, and it was the worst of curses. 

Or was it?

Because now the hunger was really bad too. Maybe, finally, my cock was half-manageable but my stomach gnawed like a rat just woken in my gut. A crippling hunger twisted sharp, a craving that I'd tried to ignore all day was now a fire I couldn't extinguish. It had been a while since I’d had solid food, having been able to tolerate nothing but the glorified protein shake Melissa called my formula (or - I shuddered again - those cookies baked with breastmilk yesterday).  Now, bound and alone, the emptiness clawed at me and god help me it was all I wanted, a taste of it, some calories. Well, that and to be free of these bras.

I yanked at them - NNNGH! - still nothing. I was spread-eagled across Melissa’s mattress, naked and dirty with sweat and jizz and, well, dirt. Hungry, and I was getting cold. 

Arousal throbbed in tandem though with the rest of my humiliating miseries. Her pheromones from the bra were relentless, and turned every breath into a tease. My nine-and-a-half inches had gone rigid again over my sunken belly, humiliating me further as I lay splayed, naked, exposed on the massive bed. The bras tugged at my wrists and ankles chafing my skin like satin-blend cuffs. Another bra - hers from today - covered my face save for one eye free. I could see, but the room was dim and spinning.

Then, a faint something from outside the room. Louder than the cat. Was someone else here, maybe downstairs? My heart slammed. Footsteps, yes, lighter than Melissa's booms, padding softly up the steps, and then in the upstairs hall balcony like bare feet on wood, a soft thump-thump that somehow echoed the cat's paws from earlier. Oh no! Who is this?? They’ll find me! See me like this! I thought, panic spiking, hunger and arousal momentarily forgotten in the flood of sudden fear. But also: they can untie me!

Though my ears were covered, through my one eye I could see: the bedroom door creaked wider. On the other side, a bright voice, young and bubbly, called in with a hint of mischief. "Melissa? Ms. Miss? You…in here?" A voice I didn’t recognize. 

I froze - who is this?? I don’t care! - then thrashed, bras stretching, bedposts groaning, my frail limbs pulling uselessly. "H-help! Please - unTIE me!" My voice cracked adolescently, muffled through the bra-mask, tears welling fresh. In my struggles, the bra came back to cover my one seeing eye. No!! I was back in the filtered darkness. 

Footsteps padded closer - bare soles on hardwood coming through the door - and then a gasp, followed by a burst of giggles. "Oh my god! What the-?!?" The voice cut off in shocked amusement, then dissolved into laughter again. “Who the heck are you and why are you in my sister’s bed?!?”

“I’m…I’m Jay!!!” I answered, almost forgetting I was naked and spread-eagled and I didn’t know this person, “I’m Melissa’s-“

“Boyfriend??” the voice, surprised but familiar, “You’re Dr. J??”

More laughter, and I heard her coming closer. 

“Yes!!” I answered.

“She told me you were small but- wow!” She was closer still. I heard something <clink> down on the bedside table.

“Yes yeah yes please just-“

“And she tied you up with her bras??” said the girl, right next to me now, and I felt her fingers grab the edge of the bra cup that had slipped once more over my eye. She pulled it back away, just that part, like the cat had. “Kinky!"

I blinked my now-free eye, tears blurring the pretty face that stared in at me. It was young, peppered with a few freckles and framed in an unruly mane of loose red curls. She pushed a pair of tortoiseshell glasses back up a pert nose, as if to see me better with eyes that were of a weirdly familiar green, wide with mock-horror and delight. Then she stood, over me.

She was tall, quite thin but holy shit: a tight grey university tee did nothing to hide this girl’s size. “WESTHALL”  was stretched across her busty chest in navy blue type, the fabric clinging to curves impossible not to flaunt. Paired with shiny black tights hugging slim legs, the look screamed ‘college co-ed’. A perfumed scent wafted as she leaned closer, something I’d smelled just recently. Vanilla?

"P-please," I begged, voice cracking. She thought I was here tied up because it was ‘knky’, that I liked it?? “Untie me - Melissa did this, she left, I didn't - help!"

The girl cocked her head,in, eyes twinkling behind her glasses. "Untie you? And ruin your guys’ fun? Or make Melissa mad? No way!" She shook her head, red curls bouncing, a mischievous grin splitting her face. "I'm Ashleigh, by the way - Melissa’s sister.”

“Oh, uh, y-yes, hi,” I replied, in the most awkward greeting ever. Melissa had mentioned a sister before, and I’d seen pictures. She’d never said too much more, though - I got the feeling that, like me-

“Melissa doesn’t talk about family much, does she?” Ashleigh chuckled, reaching down to pull the sports bra a bit more away from my face. She moved it so I could see her with both eyes now, though she left it over my nose and mouth, so I would still - did she know about my affliction? - breathe Melissa’s perfumes. “First time meeting in person, huh?” Ashleigh continued, smile crooked and dimpled, reminding me immediately of her sister - and maybe someone else? “Though...this is quite the intro." She waved a hand at my spread-eagled state as she shifted barefoot. 

I flushed in five flavors of shame “N-nice to meet you,” I managed, trying to act calm in light of my present situation, “C-can you just, please, please - untie me?”

“Honestly, dude, I don’t want to mess with your sex games,” she reiterated, and ran a hair through her curly auburn hair. Annoyance knitted her brows when her fingers caught on something, a stray clump of something crusty in her thick locks. “You know better than anyone how she can get.”

I sighed.

Looking down at me - and I hoped beyond hope that the dirt distracted from the globs of jizz on my chest and belly - she wrinkled her nose. “I will get you a blanket, though,” she offered, and took a moment to pull a thin knitted pull, white, from the end of the bed. She drew it up over my legs and up to my chest. Though my erection stridently tented it, the blanket did afford me at least a touch of modesty. “This was grandma’s.”

“Thanks,” I said, and resigned myself - for the moment - to my restraints. If I was going to get this girl, Ashleigh, to untie me, I’d need to take a different approach. And if she was anything like her sister, she’d want to talk about herself.

“S-so, you’re a-a student at Westhall?” I offered, using every ounce of conversational fluency I had left. My voice was muffled by the sports bra.“You’re…y-younger?”

“Sure,” she answered, but seemed suddenly distracted by the fact she was speaking to a guy muzzled by her sister’s bra. “We were inseparable for a while, when we were really little. But we, like, developed in different ways, her in one direction, me in another…”

Without saying too much, I’m figuring Ashleigh was telling me their lives took different paths? Melissa, for all her drama and physical appeal, maybe had a more proletariat path - Hooters, car dealerships, office administration. Westhall University, on the other hand, was one of the nation’s finest, and its graduates usually went on to big things. Is that what Ashleigh was implying? That she was the intellectual where her sister was not? “But at least I got mom’s boobs. Melissa got mom’s plus, well, everyone else’s. Grandma’s and haha like every aunt’s and ancestor’s that ever lived. Here, let me at least get this thing off you.”

With that, she peeled the huge spandex-and-nylon garment from my face, unwrapping it from my head. Cool air assaulted me and though it felt good my heart rate shot up a beat.

“Don’t worry,” Ashleigh spoke up to assure me, “I know what you’re thinking. There’s enough of her pheromones in her sheets and pillowcases and whatever to get you through. I know you’re kind of a junkie at this point.”

“Oh, uh, thanks…” I replied, hearing the little alarm bells in my head. Had Ashleigh just confirmed what Angie had told me earlier today? Something that I didn’t want to believe? That I actually was dependent on Melissa’s pheromones now, and needed them to keep from getting sick. So - it wasn’t just some panacea of her perfume, one that the other girls wore too, that settled my otherwise upset stomach. My mind took a darker turn for a moment, but then - <ggggggggrrrrrmmmmmbbbbbbllll> - the hunger returned.

“Whoah, was that your stomach?” Ashleigh laughed, looking down at me over the swell of her WESTHALL bust.

I swallowed, cheeks burning hotter. “Y-yeah… I haven’t had anything since, uhm, this morning,” I answered, trying to play off my hunger and hopefully avoid a discussion of my, uh, eating habits. “It’s not a big d-”

“Not a big deal?” She arched a brow behind her tortoiseshell glasses, red curls bouncing as she tilted her head. “Missy told me you only drink your-” Her fingers went up, in air-quotes. “‘special formula’ now. Like, literally only that.” Her green eyes glittered with something between sympathy and amusement when my brows knotted. “Awww I’m sorry!” she giggled, “Kinda intimate detail for sisters to share, huh?”

My stomach flipped - half in hunger, half in dread. What else had Melissa told her?? Because there was a lot about our…uh, ’intimate details’…that were embarrassing. Like, REALLY embarrassing.

Before I could answer, though, or offer an explanation, Ashleigh reached to the nightstand and with a soft <clink> of glass lifted a baby bottle filled with faintly pinkish, milky liquid. She held it up between thumb and forefinger like a trophy, giving it a little shake so the contents sloshed warmly.

“Ta-da.”

“W-wait what’s that?”

“Oh, I just brought it up, just in case,” she smiled sweetly. 

Just in case you found your sister’s boyfriend strapped to her bed?? And he was hungry?

“It’s…pink?” I asked, suddenly concerned. First off, this was humiliating: I didn’t want this girl knowing I was being bottle-fed! Plus - what was in there??

“It’s a new batch,” Ashleigh went on to explain, sitting down aside me on the bed, “Yeah, a little bit pinker than usual. Maybe a flavor experiment, I guess?”

I stared. Yes, this stuff was being made for me at Evolution Pharmaceuticals, and maybe they were experimenting with, like, strawberry or something. So, fine. But still…that she had some with her when she came up? “Wait - you didn’t even know I was in here. Why did you bring-?”

Ashleigh cut me off by unscrewing the plastic cap, exposing the nipple, and sitting up straight. She shook the bottle gently to tip a few fat drops onto the inside of her wrist, and I noticed how the motion made her shirt ride higher and her big bosom to jostle around inside the cotton tee. She nodded, apparently happy with the temperature, but then with a slow, deliberate grace she lifted her wrist to her mouth and lapped the droplets away with a flick of her pink tongue. When I looked up I saw her eyes locked on mine the entire time. They sparkled.

“Mmm. Warm. Perfect body temperature.” She licked her lips, lashes fluttering, as if struck temporarily by something. “Tastes sweet, like vanilla…and something extra.”

My cock, suddenly, jerked under the blanket so hard the knitted fabric tented obviously. Hunger, shame, and raw need crashed together in my gut. It had been so long since I'd had this comfort…my day had been so hard. I want that, I nearly groaned.

I guess I did groan.

Ashleigh noticed - of course she did - and her smile turned wicked-sweet. “Aw, poor baby. Poor hungry little Dr J. Let’s get you fed before you pass out.”

“I-I can drink it myself,” I stammered immediately, yanking uselessly at the bras tethering my wrists, “Just, maybe, um, untie one hand-?”

“No way, little man,” she chuckled. She moved in closer to me, the mattress dipping under her weight.

She settled, sitting closer to me on the edge of the mattress, and -  dear God - picked up Melissa’s sweat-soaked sports bra from the pillow. Casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world, she wrapped the warm, damp spandex around the bottle, cocooning it completely so the pheromone-soaked cups hugged the glass like a second skin.

“Open up,” she cooed, leaning forward. Her red curls spilled over one shoulder. The Westhall logo stretched impossibly tighter across her bust as she brought the bottle - and her breasts - closer. The nipple - soft silicone, glistening with a bead of pink formula - hovered an inch from my lips.

I clenched my jaw, shaking my head weakly. “Ashleigh, please-” I wanted it, but not like this. 

She simply pressed her wrist, still wet from her tongue and with enough of the formula that I could smell it against my mouth. One molecule of the sweet, warm liquid touched my lips and every ounce of fight drained out of me like someone had pulled a plug.

My mouth fell open on a helpless, needy sound.

I couldn’t fight it anymore, that was all it took. One sweet, warm bead of that pink-tinged formula on the nipple and my mouth opened like a baby bird’s. Another desperate, broken sound crawled out of my throat as Ashleigh’s green eyes sparkled behind her tortoiseshell glasses and her red curls tumbled further forward as she leaned in closer - close enough that her breasts, packed tight into that Westhall tee, brushed my cheek with the first deep breath she took.

“There we go,” she cooed, voice soft and syrupy, the nipple slipping between my lips. “Good boy. Suck for Ashleigh.”

The first taste hit me like a freight train - warmth, thick and creamy milk that I remembered but laced with something sharper, pinker, that made my tongue tingle and my cock jerk so hard the blanket jumped. Melissa’s formula, but… different. It flooded my mouth, coating my tongue, sliding down my throat in slow, indulgent pulls as I sucked - helpless, greedy, humiliated tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.

Ashleigh settled in, her weight aside me on the mattress. Every time she breathed, her chest rose and fell inches from my face, the grey cotton stretching, the logo warping over the swell of her breasts until I could see the faint outline of her bra beneath. She held the bottle steady with one hand, the other now stroking my hair like I was a sick puppy, her vanilla scent there but now overwhelmed by Melissa’s perfumes from the sports bra wrapped around the bottle. It all made my head spun.

“Mmm, that’s it,” she murmured, tilting the bottle just a little more, forcing me to suck harder. “Drink it all up. And breathe her in. You’re so hungry, aren’t you? Poor little Jay…all tied up and starving for his special milk. And his mommy.”

I tried to protest - tried to pull away - what had Melissa said to her?!? But the nipple filled my mouth, the formula was too good, Melissa’s pheromones were too powerful, and all that came out was a muffled whine around the silicone. My hips bucked again, cock throbbing against the blanket, pre-cum soaking into it. Her firm breasts were right there - right there - brushing my forehead, my nose, the curve of one soft swell grazing my cheek with every breath she took. I could feel the heat of them, the weight, the way they jiggled slightly when she shifted to get comfortable.

She noticed.

“Melissa’s little sister got you all worked up, huh?” she whispered, voice teasing, almost proud. She leaned in closer, until her chest pressed fully against the side of my face, the tee’s fabric soft and warm, her heartbeat thudding slow and steady through her breast into my temple. “It’s okay, baby. It’s just my boob. Let it make you feel better.”

The formula, meanwhile, kept coming, as did Melissa’s perfumes - slow, relentless bliss that filled my belly and lungs and set my blood on fire. My cock ached, rigid and leaking, every breath or swallow I took sending jolts straight to my loins. I was lost in it all: the warmth, the way breasts framed my entire world, the taste of the formula mixing with Melissa’s pheromones until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. My hips started rocking on their own, fucking the air and the thin blanket, desperate.

Ashleigh’s breath hitched - just slightly - when she felt it, sensed it coming. She pulled her hand away from stroking my temple for a second, then slid the blanket down my body with a casual flick. Cool air hit my cock; it sprang up, nine-and-a-half inches throbbing in the open, pre-cum glistening.

“Don’t want to soil Grandma’s blanket,” she said sweetly, but her eyes glittered behind her glasses, locked on my erection, “Look at you…all messy already.”

I tried to speak - tried to beg - but she pressed the nipple deeper between my lips, shoving the bra closer under my nose, and I sucked like my life depended on it. The formula flowed faster, pink and thick, Melissa’s pheromones and whatever the fuck else was in it all turning my brain to mush. Ashleigh’s breast pressed closer, against my cheek and temple, the tee’s fabric damp with my tears and drool. It was like I was drowning in two women - their scents, their warmth, their control - and my cock pulsed, balls tightening, the edge rushing up so fast I couldn’t stop it.

“That’s it,” Ashleigh whispered, voice velvet and wicked in the way Melissa’s could be, her free hand trailing down to cup my sallow cheek and hug my tighter to her breast, making me whine around the nipple, “Come for us while you drink our special milk. Show us how much you need it.”

I did.

The climax hit like a wave, my hips bucking helplessly as I came - hard, hot ropes spilling across my belly, splattering up to my chest. The formula kept flowing, pink and sweet, her breast squashing against my face as she held the bottle steady, cooing through my muffled cries. My body convulsed, the bras stretching, the bedposts groaning - and then, in the haze, I felt it: a strange, sinking pull, like the mattress was dropping away…

…or I was.

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. 

It wasn’t the mattress dropping away. It was me - my body contracting, bones compressing with a deep, internal ache that felt like every cell was being squeezed in a vice, warm and tingling, almost pleasurable in the worst way. The last time I’d felt this, acutely, was when I’d signed my new contract, in front of Melissa and Randi - shrinking from pure humiliation. And now - it was happening again? My limbs were shortening, muscles softening, height draining out of me like water from a punctured balloon. The bras - cruel, silken restraints lashed to my limbs, ankles and wrists - stretched tighter as I shrank, the straps biting deeper into my wrists and ankles, pulling me more taut across the bed as my body lost precious size. My arms yanked higher overhead, shoulders screaming as the lace and elastic hauled me upward; my legs spread wider, hips popping with the strain, until my back arched off the mattress and my heels legs and butt lifted clean from the sheets. I was suspended now, a tiny starfish crucified, the bedposts creaking louder as the restraints turned into torture devices, stretching my shrinking frame until every joint burned and my cock - still spurting the last weak ropes - bobbed helplessly in the air like a pathetic flag of surrender.

It hurt. It thrilled. It humiliated beyond words - me, dangling there, even smaller, even frailer, while Melissa’s pheromones and that beautiful pink poison coursed through me, making my diminished body feel like it was being remade in a new image: weaker, needier, hers. 

Ashleigh just watched, green eyes glittering behind tortoiseshell glasses, red curls framing her freckled face in innocent delight, as if she’d just seen a magic trick work perfectly.

When the aftershocks finally faded, I was gasping around the nipple, tears streaming, humiliation complete. The room, though just subtly, looked bigger. The ceiling higher. The bras were definitely tighter.

I’d lost at least another inch. Maybe two. Maybe more. 

And Ashleigh just smiled, licking something from the corner of her mouth, eyes glittering like she’d just proven something to herself. I’d shrank, and I’d just been made to come, without being touched. Melissa’s perfumes, and the taste of her had been all I needed. I could see it in Ashleigh’s eyes.

“Fascinating,” she whispered, as she pulled the bottle from my mouth and - dragging her heavy breast across my face - leaned in towards my chest, towards my fresh pool of come. Her mouth opened, and her tongue came out. She had only one thing to say before she began to lap it up off me like a cat. “Good boy,” she told me in a purr, “Very good boy...”

I passed out before I could see her grow. 

======================

thank you to Joyce Julep for the Pink Panther, from her story “The Witches of Kappa Gamma Delta”. And for anyone looking for more Ashleigh and what the heck’s up with her, please take a read of “Seeking Approval”, the GITJ tangent story. It should answer some questions.