Chapter 1 Too good to be true

You signed the NDA while thinking *this is too good to be true.* The men in lab coats take the papers from you. You wrinkle your nose at the smell of the room, you never did like hospitals- especially the smells and this facility isn't much different. The plain white walls feel sterile, cold, uninviting. Not even a poster hanging on the wall.

I'm in the other room putting down a pen, my signature still wet on the NDA paperwork. Thinking, *this is too good to be true.* I feel crazy for believing this new drug just might work, the white walls around me feel more like an asylum. A fitting place for believing the scientists could really do it... To let me eat without gaining a single pound. No way. Can they really transfer...

"So how does this work?"
"So how does this work?"

Asking the scientists in unison, the answers we are given don't match up.

I'm told the trial period can be unpredictable. One of the risks for this new drug is ironically potential weight gain. "Isn't my fat supposed to be liquidized?" I don't believe what I'm hearing. Everything seems so professional, I want to believe it is real. Skepticism floods in. What if these lab coats are secretly a bunch of perverts and this is all a trick? Someone's sick fetish! *No way they can really transfer my fat... at least the experiment pays well. It's worth a try.*

You're told not to worry, that all you need to do is weigh in, let them check your vitals and take a bit of blood for testing. You're seriously about to be paid for sucking on some tits? No. Fucking. Way. "This isn't some prank? There's really a woman in that room?" The man taking your blood rolls his eyes and assures you this is real and 'mostly safe.' *Mostly?!*

I'm instructed not to talk, the staff thinks that keeping things as technical as possible will have the least awkward moments and best results. *What have I gotten myself into?* Taking off my shirt makes me feel exposed, I slowly fold it before setting it on an empty chair. The longer I take, the longer I can procrastinate meeting this stranger. My bra comes off next, my stomach slightly falling over the tight waistband of my jeans as I lean forward to unclasp it.

You're told not to touch the woman in the other room unless touching her breasts. They encourage you to massage and squeeze, today is more of a practice round. The drugs have not yet forced her body to produce milk, they believe your session today will help speed that along. It feels strange to have these other men talking so matter of factly about intimate body parts.

My own hands go straight to my thighs as I feel cold gloved fingers poking and prodding my chest. How strange to be inspected like this, what are they looking for? I push my hands down harder against my jeans, the soft flesh under the denim accepts the pressure from my palms, distracting me from the touches of these strangers. They seem satisfied with their inspection and hold up a sheet, hiding my face with tits on display. This feels ridiculous. "Why don't you just put a bag over my head?" My sarcasm is quickly shushed.--
I question the validity of their intentions. The new pills I've been taking have done nothing to make my body feel any different. My breasts have yet to produce milk as they've claimed would happen.

You're guided to a chair and sit down as instructed, not believing the sight before you. There really is a woman sitting topless right across from you. How awkward that these other men are going to watch as you 'nurse' the calorific milk from her perky tits.
With a nod from the man in charge you're allowed to start. You tentatively reach out and cup the side of her breast, she flinched back slightly but didn't pull away. Another nod of approval. Nothing about this too clean, too empty room is exactly setting the mood. You drag a thumb across her soft nipple, it quickly starts to provide some resistance, firming up the more you play with it. Well.. here goes-