by Christa Wick
Sucker for Her Curves
A Billionaire, BBW Extreme Seduction Story
Christa Wick
Contents
Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Copyright
Description
Impoverished medical student Daisy Marks has agreed to submit to a clinical drug trial with a list of side effects that seems to include everything under the sun except for the actual side effects she is experiencing — an ache between her legs and an incredible fullness in her chest.
Then the dripping starts and she finds herself receiving a very private exam with Dr. Hardtman Alt, the company's billionaire CEO and chief researcher. Before the exam is done, he offers Daisy a very startling, very intimate proposal that could make her rich.
And break her heart.
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Chapter One
Sitting with her legs pressed tightly together and her hands wrapped around the edge of the exam table, second-year med student Daisy Marks endured an exceedingly cold, exceedingly clinical inspection of her breasts by one of Pharmalten's female researchers.
Trying to keep her mind off the icy fingers manipulating her flesh, she studied the supplies laid out on the counter, the charts on the cabinet doors and, when everything else had been inspected, the woman touching her.
The name tag identified the researcher as Dr. Olwen. No first name, not even an initial. Daisy's gaze jumped up to the oversized glasses perched on Olwen's thin nose and then away because she didn't want to risk actually making eye contact during this part of the exam.
She studied the streak of gray in the woman's otherwise black hair that Olwen wore in a tight bun secured high at the back of her skull. A boxy white lab coat hung off her thin shoulders and covered her all the way down to her knees, the coat's hem giving way to black slacks and sensible black shoes with a flat sole.
In stark contrast, Daisy only had on paper panties and a thin hospital shirt that Olwen had pushed halfway down her arms within sixty seconds of entering the room.
Olwen turned away, her stylus scratching at the tablet she had brought with her.
"When did this start?"
Expecting the researcher to launch into a lecture once she heard the answer, Daisy tensed. "The day after my last shot…so last Tuesday."
Olwen turned back, the corners of her mouth sinking toward her sharply pointed chin. "What were you doing at the time?"
"I, uhm...was sitting on my couch studying." A blush crept up Daisy's face, but the woman's attention never left the screen of her device.
The answer wasn't a complete lie. She had been studying about ten minutes before her breasts began leaking that first time. But she had put the books aside when an intense pressure began filling her pussy. She had been experiencing the strange, stimulating sensation since the second week of starting Pharmalten's clinical trial.
Under the terms of the agreement she had signed in entering the study, she should have reported the unusual pressure, too. She had never experienced anything like it before and it had been cropping up daily since that first occurrence. She also should have told them how heavy her breasts had become, but the aching pussy seemed tied into the ripening breasts and she had been too embarrassed to discuss it. Maybe if the symptoms had been included in the list of side effects for the drug Pharmalten was developing, or if they had asked her, but the idea of initiating the discussion froze her tongue.
"Just studying?" the woman asked, her head lifting.
"Yes," Daisy rasped. Now the lie was complete. She had been massaging her pussy when the drip started, her body coming down from a hard climax that had rattled her bones and done nothing to alleviate the internal pressure that had put a quick halt to her school work.
"And from that day until today?" Olwen asked, her disapproval at Daisy's delayed reporting evident in her tone.
"Only one other time -- yesterday morning." She looked away from the researcher before Olwen's cold stare had a chance to force the full truth out of her.
Daisy had been so mortified to find herself lactating after the orgasm that she had resisted the increasingly frequent need to touch herself four whole days until the sharp spray from a misdirected shower head had set her off. As soon as her climax had started to whip through her, Daisy's breasts began leaking for the second time.
"Activity?" the woman asked, one salt and pepper brow arching high.
"Showering...I think the heat..." Her voice trailed off as Olwen grabbed a sample cup from the tray and unsealed it.
"Oh,” Daisy protested. “They already made me give a urine sample when I first arrived."
A dry chuckled escaped the older woman, her small shoulders bobbing once. Thrusting the cup toward Daisy, Olwen ordered her to wrap her hands around it. When Daisy complied, the researcher positioned the cup directly over one nipple then began to squeeze all around the breast until the light drip that had been leaking from Daisy for the last two hours turned to a thick, spurting stream.
"And today," the woman asked as she forced another squirt. "You were in the injection room when it started?”
"No." Fresh color heated Daisy's cheeks. "It started on the elevator beforehand."
She left out the part about seeing the man on the elevator, the one whose appearance had been like a switch flipping inside her that brought the coiling pussy and breast milk together all at once.
"Wait here," the researcher ordered as she capped the specimen cup. "Dr. Alt will want to examine you personally.”
Nodding, Daisy closed the thin hospital gown Olwen's nurse had provided. The cotton immediately absorbed the milk leaking from her to turn the material transparent. Feeling exposed, she started to squirm against the exam table. Without the chilling presence of the drab female researcher, the deep throb that had started in the elevator swept back through her body. With the ache came an image of the man.
He wore a lab coat like Olwen but without a tag identifying him. Or maybe he had a name tag and she had been too busy looking at his hands and face and the big, muscular body hiding beneath the lab coat to spot it.
She closed her eyes and reluctantly replayed every detail she could remember as her hands clutched the wet gown tight to her body.
Remembering him was involuntary, unavoidable. She had felt a deep link to him that she would have labeled psychic if she wasn't a devotee of science. She didn't even need to close her eyes to see the coal black hair, generous mouth paired with a broad nose, and nerdy glasses that couldn't hide the intense, smoky blue gaze.
As if she was watching a video, she saw him enter the elevator then extend one thick arm alongside her to tap the button for the building's top floor. The long, artistic fingers had her clenching her thighs tight to keep her labia from twitching with need. It was too easy to imagine those fingers stroking her, playing over her breasts, firmly rolling her thick nipples.
As soon as that thought had raced through her mind, the milk began to flow — no orgasm necessary.
She had tried to hide the response before entering the injection room. Dipping into the bathroom, she had stuffed paper towels in her bra. The milk had quickly leaked through. The technician had been one second away from sticking the needle in her arm when he froze and summoned Dr. Olwen's nurse.
Her mouth twitched at the recollection. He had recapped the syringe and
without a second glance at her chart called the nurse who had immediately ushered her into the exam room. No conferral, no shot.
Had they been expecting such a thing to occur but intentionally withheld the information from the study's subjects? She had noticed there were only female test subjects in the waiting area whenever she came for her shots.
Hearing the slide of the exam room door across the cold tile floor, Daisy opened her eyes and immediately wanted to shut them.
Whether this was Dr. Alt didn't matter for the moment because it was the man she had seen on the elevator, the one without a name tag. The one who had made her want to come on the spot even though he was a little off from her usual preferences.
He was almost a robot with his perfect body, calm expression, perfect hair — perfect everything.
He brought his tablet up and pressed the power button, then swiped past a few screens before saying anything. "Miss Marks."
"Yes," she answered, clutching the shirt tighter to her, the added pressure and his presence doubling the flow of milk from her nipples.
"I am Dr. Alt. This is my project."
You're company, too, she thought.
Or at least one day it would be. She had read enough about Pharmalten to know the name of the CEO -- a Dr. Alt who was the prodigious progeny of a long line of Dr. Alts. If this man wasn’t the CEO, then he was the son or a younger brother of the company’s top boss.
"Here," he began, capturing her wrists and gently forcing her to release her hold on the flimsy, sopping wet shirt. "Let us see what has Dr. Olwen so excited."
She had less than a second to register the cognitive dissonance of Dr. Olwen being in any manner excited before Mr. Perfect was peeling the sodden shirt all the way off, placing it in a sample bag, then retrieving a second, dry shirt, cotton bandages and medical tape. While he worked to gather the items, Daisy covered her breasts with her hands, the thick flow of milk quickly leaking around the seal she had made.
Damn! This was definitely the worst it had been among all the times. Not just the milk but the ache between her legs. She felt dizzy from it, shaky and ready to pass out.
“You should adopt a supine position,” Dr. Alt suggested. “Before you faint.”
Grabbing Daisy around her shoulders, he guided her onto her back. He stepped out of the room, excusing himself for a few seconds and returning with a thick towel. Folding the material in half, he waited patiently for Daisy to remove her hands from her breasts.
Slowly she placed her palms flat against the exam table. Her body shook with the need to press against her throbbing clit. The tension made her breasts jiggle while Dr. Alt covered them with the towel. The brush of terry cloth felt rough against her sensitive nipples and she jerked sharply. Her hands came up, coiling together in a tight knot held hard against her plump mound over the paper panties.
If Dr. Alt noticed the sexual nature of her tension, he gave no hint. Hell, he turned his back to her and began swiping at the screen on his tablet.
"You are almost finished with your second year of medical school, yes?"
"Yes," she replied sharply as an orgasm threatened to slam through her. All she could see of the man was an expanse of white and his dark hair, but his voice was enough to set her off. It was a deep, rumbly voice, one that would have a definite purring quality if his diction wasn’t so precise.
"Your responses on the initial questionnaire were accurate?"
"Yes," she answered, her body a little more subdued as she began thinking of all the questions they had asked at the beginning. There had to have been at least a thousand, and some of them seemed unusual -- like her frequency of intercourse over the prior twelve months (zilch), whether she was on birth control (no, too expensive and she wasn’t incurring the cost when she had good reason to be a pessimist over her chances of even getting laid), how frequently she engaged in masturbation (“not at all to infrequent” — which was a lie unless "infrequent" included at least once a day within its scope).
"This is week eight for you?"
"Yes," she answered, then corrected herself. "Except I wasn't given a shot today. So I've only had seven shots."
He nodded, the bottom edge of his short haircut lifting to show the back of his neck. Crap, even his neck was sexier than hell, the tendons knotted like he had just finished working out.
Her face squished together and for half a second she forgot about the heavy pulse between her legs.
Why were the tendons knotted? Was he angry? At her?
"You said no intercourse over the last twelve months, was that true?"
His voice sounded like it was getting as tight as the muscles along the back of his neck, but she couldn't see his face.
"Do answer, Miss Marks."
"Yes, I've been celibate."
A small chuckle escaped him and then he turned it into a cough before swiping on his tablet once more.
"And have you had a partner since beginning the trial?"
"No." Her reply came out so softly she thought he might not be able to hear her.
It wasn't just the doctor's probing questions muting her voice. She had already leaked enough breast milk to make twin dark rings through the two layers of towel. Whatever this medicine was, it was turning her into some kind of lactating freak. Even cows didn't produce this much milk in a day.
Distracting Daisy, Alt lifted his face toward the ceiling and took a deep breath.
Was he scenting the air in a room that was overpowered by the smell of the creamy fluid coming out of her nipples?
"And masturbation, Miss Marks, is that still infrequent?"
Hearing the snarky slide of the last word as it rolled off his tongue, Daisy scowled at the doctor's back. It was starting to feel like the researchers asked these questions just because they got a kick out of embarrassing people who were desperate enough for money that they'd sell their health for the few thousand dollars the company was paying.
Dr. Alt put his tablet down and turned to stare at Daisy's face.
"Miss Marks, millions of dollars in research have gone into this project, not to mention all the years. Your complete honesty is absolutely essential. You've already held back information you should have reported immediately. And as a medical student, you can't have failed to realize the importance of sudden lactation."
She gave a slight nod, not admitting he was right about anything he had said, merely acknowledging that she had heard him.
"So," he said, placing a hand on each side of her and bending low enough that his face was mere inches from her own. "Is masturbation still infrequent?"
She started to nod but the meaningful tilt to Alt's head cut her short.
"One of the goals of the pill is female arousal, euphoria, increased fertility and," he paused, his tongue licking once at his lips, so slow she felt every second of its moist journey against her pussy. "Lactation."
“Are you saying you meant to do this to me?" she asked, her expression wide and confused at the same time.
With an indifferent shrug, he began to peel away the towel. "Not you in particular, although the gene study we did from the blood drawn on week one showed you had exceptional potential."
Wrapping one warm hand around Daisy's right breast, Dr. Alt pressed his thumb below the bottom of the areola. He released the pressure then repeated the motion again and again as he continued talking.
"The arousal would have hit you before the lactation, the euphoria will come with the proper stimulation."
Swallowing thickly, Daisy cast her gaze at the hand working her breast.
"Not there," he said, doing nothing this time to hide his chuckle. "Vaginal, and not with whatever toy you've been fucking yourself silly with since about the second week of trials."
Her gaze went wide again, her mouth opening in a fat "O" of surprise.
He nodded, a wickedly curving smile thickening his accent as he spoke. "Another symptom you failed to report in a timely fashion. If you weren't the most advanced candidate, I
would cut you from the trials entirely."
Daisy shook her head to clear the thoughts and sensations warring within. She could barely hear what he was saying over the rushing throb of blood and need coursing through every limb. As he had continued pumping, her pelvis had taken up his rhythm. She tried to stop it, dug her nails into her cushioned hips, raked and gouged the voluptuous flesh.
Seeing how badly her body trembled, Dr. Alt stopped touching her and took a step away. He began tapping quickly at his tablet as more words Daisy could barely make out tumbled past his firm lips.
"I can't have you screaming in here. It will unnerve the other patients."
"Screaming?" she whispered.
Was she stuck in an exam room with a madman?
"All voluntary, of course."
The glance he gave her was too heated for her to believe anything he said. The rest of his expression, his entire stance, might look as smooth and icy as a frozen pond, but his eyes burned bright blue.
"I w-want to g-go home," she said, pulling the towel up to her chest and struggling to sit.
Dr. Alt lifted a hand to stop her. He didn't move to touch her, except for that hot gaze of his.
When she began to sway on the table and her eyes rolled up, he dropped his device and caught her before she could fall. She tried to struggle out of his arms, tried to scream, but her throat was too parched.
"Stay still, Miss Marks, and allow me to fetch you some water. You’ve expelled at least a liter since the injection room.“ He pushed her onto the table then stuck his head out into the hall. "Bringen Sie wasser!"
He waited, his body blocking the door and his neck twisted so he could watch Daisy. Maybe a full minute passed with him staring at her, then he thrust his hand through the narrow opening into the hallway, barked a bitte in thanks and shut the door.
Dr. Alt twisted the cap off a bottle of water and helped Daisy into a sitting position. Just as he was bringing it to her lips, she pushed it away.