Darkest Desires

Galactophilia/Mazophilia (Trial #7)

Sometimes, Stevens adoration of her breasts was almost childlike.

Not in a perverted sense, no, but rather of the purity of a child who remembers feeding from them though he never has. An innocent expectation of safety from the world as soon as they were in his mouth or hands. His touch was not always for sex, sometimes he just liked to use them as stress balls or pillows. He would nuzzle there after nightmares, he'd squeeze one for good luck with no lustful intention, he would look up at her while he played with them with stars in his eyes like he couldn't believe he was actually touching a real life tit.

Today was no different.

A grown man wearing pajamas at 2:38 pm on a Monday, laying across his girlfriends lap propped up on her thigh; and his girlfriend, resting one arm holding a phone on her knee and the other draped over his back while he sucked and played with them.

One hand focused entirely on touch, memorizing without looking, every bump and detail. Every wrinkle of her nipple he would know the number of, every slightly different texture, every stretch mark he would remember as if they were his own just by feeling them. That was his goal. Her exact resistance against his hand was uniquely hers, every bounce when he let go fascinating. What was the maximum amount of times it would bounce? He would find that out too.

His tongue slipped over her other nipple under closed eyes. He made no sound as he explored them orally, enjoying the doughy pressure against his tongue and cheeks. She tasted like Connie, slightly salty but woman and sweet from her cocoa butter spray. There was no part of Connie that didn't please him to run his tongue over but when push came to shove, he could live and die in her pussy or in these tits.

She switched hands and scrolled a bit more, reading through a new story. It made him smile at the level of trust she was showing in him. It was difficult to get used to with his own demons telling him he must have been failing before, but things were eerily peaceful. Their arguments lasted shorter times, he was able to be more sure in himself so his pink was rarely showing nowadays. Her work was going smoother, she focused better and she didn't get so stressed.

They had been doing this one for nearly 7 weeks now. They'd find downtime throughout the day and snuggle in bed with him in paradise as the outside world grew brisk with the warning of winter. He panicked less often, he was always dreamy and thankful when they finally were forced to part ways for tasks or work. This was the deepest comfort he could find in life, an almost thing he would've had with a mother. Perhaps that's why it was so comfortable, he mused, some part of his inner child never got the comfort of a breast for food.

His eyes had been closed, a thick sacred silence hanging in the air when he started hacking, really, really hard.

Connie's phone flew out of her hand as she grabbed his face. "Steven! Are you okay? Did you choke on your spit?" She smacked his back a couple of times to help.

He shook his head wildly, eyes wide even through the uncontrollable spasms of his diaphragm. Even when he calmed down his eyes didn't change, he looked pale. "Connie."

Now she was worried. "What's wrong?"

"Can... Can I get one more suck?" A bit of an awestruck look was beginning to rise on his face.

Connie laughed nervously. "Of course."

He didn't lose eye contact as he went down again and hollowed out his cheeks. She felt a slight tugging deeper within but otherwise the same. He kept his mouth closed for a moment, his Adam's apple bobbing briefly before whispering, "I have to see it first. I'm not going to say anything until I see that I'm not crazy."

"Steven, crazy about what? See what?" She'd never seen him act like this. His smile was not calming her nerves. "What about trying to milk my tits went wrong?"

Her face dropped.

"Not wrong." His hand reached up to grab the side, massaging it gently before squeezing harder. A dribble of milky fluid, and then a spray that landed on his leg. Round eyes met. "Milk. It went wrong when I milked... and there was milk to be had."

The version of his smile kept changing, first a silly, shocked grin. Then a disbelieving part. It wobbled at the corners, like he wanted to speak but couldn't.

Connie was comparatively numb as she stared at the bed. The amount of suction and stimulation hadn't ever hurt or made her sore because of his healing spit. He must have caused a something in her brain that set off breastfeeding chemicals in her body, similar to having a baby. "I'm lactating..." She broke eye contact to look down at it and give it a squeeze herself. It wasn't as much this time, just barely beading . "Oh gosh!" She gasped and held his face in her hands, horrified. "I-I got it in your mouth! I'm so so sorry!"

His lips curled in as it was now his turn to turn and stare down at the comforter. It was pure white, fluffy and warm under his skin but cold to the touch. It was plain, no design save for the stitching, and no saving graces but adding extra depth to the blush that crawled up his neck.

As if that wasn't embarrassing enough, it carried over to his gem, the amount of embarrassment so strong he had no choice but to dimly glow. She would know, and she would indefinitely think he was a freak. He had actually been enjoying the milky taste he'd thought he was imagining long before his eyes popped open and he inhaled too hard. It was watery, and slightly sweet. Not too much for his taste, in fact the exact right amount of it. And it was warm, almost hot at just a bit higher than the temperature of his mouth. "It's uh... it's fine." He smoothed a hand over his air. "It... was okay."

A knowing smile was beginning to spread over her face like butter on toast. "Just okay?"

"Yes."

"Steven you've uh..." She cleared her throat and pointed at her crotch.

"Wha–?" He dropped his head, completely mortified by the hardening of his cock. "I am so fucked up. What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Same thing that's wrong with me, probably." She grabbed his hands and brought them to her lips. "Steven it's okay to have a—,"

"Oh god, don't say it," He pleaded. "If you value our home, you won't say it so I don't explode."

"It's okay to like titty milk, we just may as well donate to the other babies in town." She laughed when half of his body started to float and half stayed planted.

"Don't say it."

"Lactation fetish. Galactophilia. Titty milk turn on. Boob Shake Loyalty Club."

Steven's jaw dropped. "Like Galaxy? Galacto like Galactic? They're making a space joke at expense!"

Connie was laughing so hard she couldn't breathe, and despite her aching muscles she couldn't stop. It was the universe outside of him rubbing salt in the wound, and she was living for it.

Steven rolled off the bed with a harder than usual thump. "Please don't make babey jokes out of this. I beg of you," He poked his head over the edge of the bed to try to stare down her smirk with his puppy dog eyes. "Please."

'My baby boy. My sweet innocent babyman of wonder. My moo-fest man child. My really big boy.' She could've gone and on until he physically age regressed from humiliation. "Come get more milk."

"Yes ma'am."