Chapter 4

What was I thinking? Pamela stared at the drawer which should have contained the bug. But the cabinet’s drawers had a gap between the back board and the back of the cabinet. She had walked her daughter to the work van and returned to an escaped insect. “Thing has the luck of a cartoon character.” She tried to find humor in the ongoing chase.

The sectoid had terrified her when it flew into her bare chest and latched on to a nipple, but it hadn’t drawn blood. She had washed the breast and applied an antibiotic ointment before taking her daughter to work. The creature still disgusted her, but having met the enemy at close quarters, she felt a little silly at her reaction. It was a bug. She would kill it. And in the meantime, Pamela chose to not think much about it. After hunting through the apartment for an hour, she gave up and took a nap.

She awoke feeling horny half an hour later. Pamela lay on top of her bed and masturbated, fingers inside her shorts and panties. She didn’t like to wear a bra around the house, but she had donned a warm blouse. It took her a second to notice the sectoid which had climbed on the bed a minute or two into her self-pleasuring. It observed her from three feet away from her right hip.

“There you are, ugly fucker.” She sneered at it. Her fingers diddled faster on her clit and vulva. “You must be some kind of pervert bug, always watching me when I jill myself.” As was proper, Pamela had stored the bug spray in in a lockable cabinet. She considered kicking the insect, thinking to injure it enough to either smash on the floor or run for the spray can. The idea of bug guts in her bedroom was less appealing than the bug itself.

The bug moved slowly closer. Instead of freaking out, Pamela felt her arousal increase. The horror of it had a fetish effect, but she was too engrossed in finger fucking to realize that. “Go. Scoot!” She barked. It kept creeping until she could have smacked it with her right hand if it hadn’t been busy with more timely efforts. Pamela groaned from a fresh spike to her horniness. “Gods curse you ugly beast! Uuhhhh!!” Her body shuddered, her orgasm about to burst.

Suddenly, the bug leaped and landed on Pamela’s blouse. By smell it detected the woman’s right nipple beneath its feet. It instantly latched its forelegs and mandibles to the cloth covering it.

The shock of its leap and muted bite triggered Pamela like nothing before. Her orgasm exploded with a power that electrocuted her thoughts and nervous system! Her body flailed and wailed, but the creature instinctively clung to her nipple, right through the warm cloth. It held on for the many long seconds of Pamela’s orgasm. She stared directly into it’s multi-lensed eyes and howled her pleasure at it!

Immediately after her climax, the woman’s hand and arms were useless. She wanted to swat the thing, but also she was amazed by her sexual reaction to it. Pamela lay panting on her bed. Her thoughts were slow but deep, trying to decide what to make of it and herself.

The creature had managed to extend it feeding tube through the close weave of the woman’s blouse and pierce her nipple but only after her body had stilled. It sucked nourishment while looking out for threats.

That the creature was again attached to her chest, no longer terrified Pamela. It’s ugly proximity disgusted her, but the thing’s grasp on her blouse and her nipple beneath, was painless, weaker than a pinch.

As the sexual glow in mind and body faded, Pamela abruptly swatted at the thing!

It flew away buzzing out of her room, untouched.

That night, after Adeline had returned from work, Pamela kissed and hugged her before heading to the bus stop. She wished she could tell her daughter that it was open season on bugs in their house, but the adult child had been charmed by the creature, somehow. Pamela shook her head. A child’s mindset was a thing of beauty, often unsoiled by superficial things.

She didn’t take her vibrator that night, confident that the strip club would not arouse her. It did not. Even the studly Michael didn’t temp her, that night.

When Pamela returned home, Adeline remained in her room. Pamela awoke early the next day, 9 AM. Her nipples ached slightly. She examined them in the brightly lit bathroom. She didn’t see anything, but prodding them hurt more than she expected. Her left nipple produced one, bead of hazy liquid. She washed her breasts with plenty of soap and applied more antibiotic.

It was too early to wake Adeline. Inspired by her tender nipples, Pamela hunted for the bug, spray can in hand. Damn thing remained elusive.

“Momma, the maxi pad can is full.” It was during breakfast that Adeline, wearing her bathrobe at the table, informed her mother.

“You know how to take it to the complex’s trash bins.”

“I don’t want to.” Adeline pouted.

“Don’t make me go with you. I’ll lecture you the entire way.”

“You’re being silly, Momma.”

“You know I love you, but you have responsibilities in our home.”

“I’ll do it.” The younger woman sighed.

Pamela had begun to menstruate a day earlier, but lightly. She had changed her tampon only a few times, dropping them into the can reserved for such things, without a glance into it. Maxi pads were easier for adult girls to deal with, but the pads filled up their can quickly.

They played card games after breakfast. Adeline was pretty good at Gin Rummy. Crazy Eights also suited the young woman. Cribbage was her upper limit, and her mother played beneath her skill for her daughter.

Pamela returned from walking Adeline to the work van, that day, and spent her free time cleaning house. She bought cleansers that might irritate the section into being more conspicuous, but she didn’t want her daughter using them.

Pamela bathed afterwards and then lay on her bed, spray can beside her. She wore panties and her robe. She slipped three fingers into her vulva and began rubbing it and her clit. Her eyes scanned the room. Its atmosphere was the opposite of erotic.

When the bug failed to appear, Pamela’s observations relaxed, and her attention turned mostly to the fingers then running in and out of her wet pussy. Her other hand slipped inside her robe and tested her nipples’ tenderness. The sharp sensations from being tweaked, quickly heightened Pamela’s arousal.

Fully horny, the woman reacted dully to the sectoid’s appearance on her bed. “Now you show up!” She hissed. Pamela immediately thought to grab the can and use it, but both her hands were contributing to her growing horniness. She figured she deserved a good cum before ending the bug’s life.

Once again, as the woman’s orgasm approached, the bug crept up to her right side. Pamela’s left hand was lightly pinching her left nipple through the robe. She stared fearlessly at the sectoid, but her heart beat faster as it drew closer. “You’re going for my tit again, aren’t you?” She puffed.

To show the horror that she was no longer afraid, she opened the right flap of her robe, exposing her heaving breast on that side. The hand retreated to her left nipple, uncovered it and resumed pinching. Whitish beads of liquid seeped out.

The baseball sized insect hopped up and onto the woman’s bare tit and grasped the nipple with its forelegs. It weight however was negligible.

“Ooh!” Pamela gasped when the sectoid sank its mandibles into the rubbery nub she had made turgid. The pain, which she expected, was not as severe as she had first experienced. Her body was vibrating from the proximity of her impending orgasm.

When the throes of her climax wracked the woman’s body, the creature held on dearly, somehow knowing that this ‘earthquake’ was not a threat.

It took a while for Pamela to catch her breath. Peak pleasure swirled through her senses for a long time. Her eyes were locked on the the creature’s head, and its eyes returned her tense fascination. Only after the intense aftermath subsided did she see details of the bug’s grasp on her wet nipple.

The thing had a needle imbedded in her tit! Sudden panic flushed her lingering reverie, and she grabbed at the can beside her. The bug flew off, followed by a sweet smelling spray of poison. It disappeared around the door into the hall.

“Fuck!” Pamela leaped up and chased into the hall, can at the ready. Again, she found humor in its lucky escape. “Bastard! You must be a male, having wooed a girl and left her.”

Adrenaline faded from her system, and she wandered back to her room. She fell asleep face down on her bed.

“Momma?” Adeline rocked her mother’s limp body. “It’s time for your work.”

“Uuugghhh.” Her mother woke slowly. “Thanks for waking me.” Pamela barely had the arm strength to push herself up to a sitting position, legs falling over the side of her bed. “Hello, Sweetie.”

“Are you feeling bad?”

“No, Honey, just groggy.” The combo of an incredible orgasm and a healthy dose of adrenaline had really sapped her strength! She had slept too long, making her feel even more tired. Pamela stood up and started to prepare for work. She had Pamela fix a sandwich for her to take with her. “There’s a package of sliced turkey in the fridge.”

In the bathroom, Pamela checked her nipples, especially the right one. They continued to be sore. Both, when prodded, exuded what looked like breast milk but just tiny drops. “How the fuck...” She shook her head and went to the shower. After drying herself, she applied ointment to her nipples. “I hope they aren’t infected.” The one trip to the doctor’s, for her daughter, had cost a lot, and that was just the co-pay. Her nipples weren’t unduly red however, nor did they itch. She gulped, hoping her diagnosis was correct.

After dressing in her room, she went to the kitchen. She thanked her daughter for the sandwich. She added to her ‘lunch’ bag, an apple and a packet of mixed nuts. They bought nuts in bulk and separated them into zippable snack bags.

Her night at work felt overly long and exhausting. Known for her convivial personality with the customers, she struggled to find her spark. Tips suffered, but her manager told her that everyone has slow days. Her sluggishness continued: waiting for the bus, riding the bus, and trudging back home.

Adeline met her at the front door. They hugged but Pamela hardly felt motherly. Adeline seemed distant too, but the mother blamed her lack of energy and didn’t comment. Her daughter walked with her to her bedroom. “Good night, Momma. Get good sleep.” Adeline left her.

“Thank you.” Pamela shed her clothes and crawled halfway under the covers before fully, zonking out.

A throbbing pain in her left breast woke the mother early again, the next morning. The ache forced her to full attention. Pamela hurried to the bathroom and examined the nipple. It was swollen to twice its aroused size. She felt no arousal, but it was very stiff. Touching the tip made her wince, and a drop of the whitish fluid appeared. There was no way that her breast could be engorged with milk! Yet, she grit her teeth and bent over the sink. She cried out softly when she stroked the sore nipple from base to tip with a pinching finger and thumb. A stream of white fluid sprayed into the sink.

“Oh, dear gods!”

Curiosity drove Pamela to milk her right nipple. Only a few drops appeared, but still it was bizarre. When she had been breastfeeding Adeline, neither her daughter’s lips nor the pump gave her nipples discomfort.

She next hoped that if she expressed all the milk from her swollen teat, the pain would go away. After a few difficult milking strokes, Pamela had to give up. Each pinch and pull elicited a spray of milk, but the pain only increased.

Going back to her room, she grabbed her phone and looked up painful lactation. None of the cases she read about could explain her situation. She registered for a nursing forum and posted the question. “My breasts haven’t lactated in years, but I have a very sore nipple that expresses when milked by hand. The pain is sharp and discouraging. Anyone know what’s happening?”

Answers were swift and plentiful. Pamela guessed that nursing women liked to be online while feeding a child.

“No. Go see a doctor.”

“Sounds terrible. See your doctor.”

“No. See a doctor.”

And so on.

Despite the earnest advice, the suffering woman told herself she could wait to see if her nipple improved after a day of rest. It happened that this was a day off, and the pain was only sharp when she pinched the nipple. The ache was present but not consuming.

Having made her decision, Pamela turned to the next obvious question. Had the bug been at her nipple during the night? She had slept with her chest exposed. It was likely, but that didn’t explain why her breast was full of milk!

Her next decision was, the bug had to die. The chance that its mandibles and/or proboscis had infected her was too great to be lax about hunting the creature down. She felt ashamed then for allowing it to bite her nipple on the previous day!

Pamela dressed in loose clothes and took a walk outside, to a cafe. She sat with her cappuccino and watched morning people preparing their thoughts for the day. She waited until it was that time when her daughter normally awakened, but along the walk back home, the occasional brush of her blouse against her left nipple did not provoke much discomfort.