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Dottore was no stranger to breasts. He prided himself on having an encyclopedic knowledge of the biology of all sexes and races. To him, they were simply lumps of flesh surrounding the mammary glands that nurtured infants of the class Mammalia. He saw nothing exciting or pleasurable in physical forms. Only test subjects to end up on a sterile operating table. However, there was an exception, or weakness, as he termed it. One body that belonged in plush satin sheets next to him, as well as on the operating table below him. His beloved Feofan, his closest comrade and immortal lover, and his most treasured body. The Doctor knew him inside and out, quite literally. On the inside– his fingers had explored the deepest parts of Pantalone’s body– from his lung cavities, to the soft, warm hole that he perpetually desired to have wrapped around his cock. And on the outside– he adored running his cold hands over the warm body next to him and watching the gooseflesh follow in their wake. The Doctor would say it was hard to choose a favorite part of Pantalone’s body, but that would be a lie. Despite his love for the others' pale, biteable thighs and plump buttocks that jiggled every time he rammed him down onto his cock, his favorite attribute of his beloved was his breasts. They fit so perfectly in his palm, the texture sublime to squeeze and suck and watch as the pale skin turned all shades of pink and purple. They bounced in time as Pantalone rode him, tantalizingly at the same height as his face. They jiggled hypnotically as Pantalone lay beneath him, eyes full of tears, as Dottore fucked him into overstimulation. They looked almost edible when Dottore took his cock out and stroked himself to completion, his release glazing over the pale mounds like the most delectable frosting.
“Dottore,” Pierro’s voice cut through his titillating daydreams. “How goes the research in Nod-Krai?”
The Doctor cleared his throat, attempting to banish the lewd thoughts from his head and will his boner down.
“It is progressing smoothly as expected,” he responded, willing himself to not look at Pantalone and failing miserably. “Thanks to the Regrator’s financial support, we are making great headway in the analysis of kuuvahki. In but a few weeks we shall have functional weapons and even combat stimulants derived from the force. It is quite fascinating, the current tests are being run on Capra Fagacia, commonly called the Chestnut Goat, in order to extract–”
“That is quite enough, Dottore,” Pierro interrupted, and the Doctor bit back an insult. “Moving on to Sandrone, please tell us how your research is progressing.”
Dottore sunk back in his chair, determined to tacitly ignore the rest of the meeting and ponder his research. It was interesting, despite what the other harbingers said. He had discovered that the kuuvahki sensitivity found in the Chestnuts Goats was not genetic, as was previously assumed, but instead came from the mother’s milk. This he could distill into high concentrations and, when ingested, would mimic the kuuvahki sensitivity that Moonchanter wielded. This would be useful in many instances-
He started at a touch on his leg. Looking to his right, the Regrator looked as serene as ever, eyes closed and a polite smile graced his face as he listened to Sandrone’s ramblings.
The Doctor wondered bitterly why she was allowed to drone on about her stupid robots, and yet the others shut him down. His research was far more-
The touch came again, higher up this time. He felt as though his skin was on fire as the polished leather toe of Pantalone’s boot travelled up his calf. He sucked his breath in, watching the other’s face. The Regrator opened his eyes ever so slowly and looked at Dottore from under dark lashes, before turning his attention back to the meeting. Dottore bit his lip, willing Pierro to dismiss the harbingers before he lost his patience and bent Pantalone over the desk in front of them.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the closing words were spoken and Dottore stood up abruptly, praying no one noticed the bulge in his pants. He hurried down the hall back to his lab, slowing as he felt Pantalone’s presence behind him.
“My dear Doctor, why the hurry? Can you not spare a word.”
“Regrator, you must understand that my research is important.”
This was a game of cat and mouse they constantly played. Who would admit they need the other first?
“But of course, I would not fund it if it were not. May I have a word, privately, my dear researcher?”
Dottore heard a door open and he spun around, hurrying into the empty lounge Pantalone had entered, before slamming the door shut, and the Regrator against it. Their lips meet in a bruising kiss, the Doctor all teeth, biting till he tasted blood. Pantalone threaded a gloved hand in his hair, pulling forcefully to tilt the other’s head back.
“My, my, Doctor, what has gotten into you?” he inquired, amused
“Your insolent teasing,” spat the Doctor, saliva collecting at the corners of his mouth, looking not unlike a rabid dog.
“Oh I am so terribly sorry,” the other giggled, “ however shall I make it up to you?” Although Pantalone did not sound the least bit penitent, he did fall to his knees, nuzzling gently at the growing bulge in the Doctor’s slacks. He deftly undid the belt and zipper, mouthing again at his boxers, before pulling them down and pressing a kiss against the red swollen member before him.
“Dear Doctor,” he said between kitten licks, “tell me about your research. The chestnut goats, I believe you said?”
Dottore bit back a groan, pulling himself out of a haze of pleasure to answer Pantalone’s question.
“Indeed, I’m glad someone values my, ah-, research.” He gasped as the other enveloped his cock in his warm, wet mouth.
“The chestnut goats are very kuuvahki sensitive, however we have found, fuck-, found that it is not genetic but comes instead from the mother’s milk. I am currently creating a, oh my god—, a tincture that will increase milk production and even cause lactation in m-male specimens.”
Pantalone pulled away and gazed up at the Doctor through lidded eyes, stroking his cock against the porcelain skin of his face.
“How fascinating, truly. The others do not understand your genius, my dear.”
“Fuck- flattery will get you many places, Regrator.”
Pantalone tsk’d.
“I only speak the truth. Now,” he dug his thumb into the sensitive slit of the other’s cock, “be a dear and cum down my throat.”
He pushed his head down, swallowing the Doctor’s cock until it hit the back of his throat, pausing only to relax his muscles before forcing it down, feeling it breach his pharynx. The Doctor groaned, biting the back of his hand. His other hand came down to entangle in Pantalone’s dark locks, pulling him off before roughly pushing him down again, till his nose was buried in the soft teal hair on his mons pubis. A few more such motions and Pantalone looked a wreck, tears brimming in his eyes and his pale skin flushed red. The sight brought the Doctor to an embarrassingly quick completion, forcing the other’s head down one more time to swallow all of his release.
The aftercare was quick, each wanting to return to their chambers to clean themselves up. (Pantalone had, in fact, came in his pants.) They stood for a brief moment before opening the door, Pantalone fiddling in his coat pockets for a cigarette and lighter. The Doctor made an expression of disgust as he lit up and Pantalone rolled his eyes, inhaling, pausing, then exhaling the smoke into the other’s face.
Dottore returned to his lab, trading his Fatui coat for his usual labwear and switching his beaked mask for a sterile medical one. He rifled through the notes on his desk and turned to observe the specimens in their glass containment facilities. Six chestnut goats, a pair of each color, plus an infant. Injections of the lactation serum were given hourly to the male specimens, and twice daily to the female. Already the males were showing signs of enlarged teats. In order to stimulate even more lactation, the babies were kept near the mother until harvest time. Dottore glanced over his notes one more time before pulling on latex gloves and unlatching the enclosure gate.
With surprising tenderness he removed the kid from beside its mother, ignoring the distressed crying it let out. This was, in fact, ideal. The pitiful sounds the kid made only increased the ewe’s milk productions. Dottore told himself this every time he went through this routine.
In truth, though he was loath to admit it, he had a weakness for infant animals. As much as he told himself they were weak and vulnerable and the antithesis to everything he sought, a part of him pitied them. Was he like this, at one time, crying for his mother’s milk? He barely remembers her, just a shadow veiled in disdain and rancor. Would he be less…him, had he felt a loving hand in his childhood?
Of all his fascinations with infinite possibilities, this was one he hated to dwell on. It awoke a feeling in him that he disliked.
Shaking his head of these insolent thoughts, he deftly hooked up the machine to the nanny’s udders, keeping an eye on the gauges and measurements, as he moved over to the male goat. He pinched its teats, extracting a thin stream of milk into a beaker. Three millimeters more than yesterday, he noted. Excellent, this was great progress. Soon the milk production will be doubled, the kuuvahki stimulant batch will increase, and Pantalone will be pleased with his investment.
He fell back into his routine, jotting down notes, giving injections, and rotating beakers on bunsen burners and centrifuges. Eventually, sleep fell heavy on his eyelids and he slumped over his desk.
The sun was far over the horizon when he awoke, though the underground lab was not affected by such astronomical phenomenon. The first thing he noticed was the cold damp patch in his pants. His brow furrowed for a moment before remembering the dreams that plagued (blessed) him that night.
Several hours later he walked with an almost nervous step over to Pantalone’s office. He rapped shortly against the door, not waiting for an answer before pushing it open and entering the office. Pantalone sat behind his large mahogany desk, looking up from his paperwork with a suspicious air. The Doctor never knocked. His face quickly reverted to his usual serene smile.
“My dear Doctor, what can I do for you today? More funding requests per chance?”
Dottore swallowed thickly. It was rare for him to be nervous. Despite the mask that covered the upper half of his face, he always felt laid bare before Pantalone.
“I simply wanted to stop by for a drink. Might you spare a friend a few minutes from your busy schedule?”
Pantalone’s eyebrows shot upwards. How unusual for his Doctor to act like this, but he would not turn down the opportunity.
“Certainly, my dear. Coffee, tea, wine? Any preference?”
Dottore pondered which beverage would suit his task.
“Coffee, dear Regrator, please. And make it strong.”
Pantalone rose, moving over to the dry bar by the lounge area.
“Please, have a seat. I shall brew it in the Sumerean style.”
The Doctor let out a pleased hum as he sat. This should work spectacularly. Though he had not sampled the serum himself, from the chemical makeup he surmised it had a slight taste. Though Sumeru coffee should be more than strong enough to cover it.
What he didn’t anticipate was Pantalone’s sensitive taste buds. Despite smoking nearly a pack a day, the banker's tongue was highly trained to detect when his food or drink had been tampered with. As they drank their coffee, Pantalone put two and two together. The mild aftertaste in his coffee, and the Doctor’s eyes perpetually on him could only mean one thing. His beloved Dottore had drugged him. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time, nor did it concern him in the slightest. He just hoped he could make the meeting he had later that day.
However, half an hour had passed and no warmth seeped through his body (the first sign of an aphrodisiac, he was very familiar). Then the Doctor left, and the hours ticked by, and still nothing happened. It was towards the end of his meeting that evening, that he noticed a slight throbbing in his chest area. He panicked slightly, but remembered he had taken his monthly dose of elixir yesterday. He trusted no ill would befall him in his Doctor’s care. He finished the meeting with unusual curtness, hurriedly ushering his guest out, before locking the door and groping his chest, sighing with relief. He carefully massaged his pectorals- when had they gotten so painful?- before letting out a gasp as he felt a warm moistness spreading through his shirt. It finally clicked.
“‘And even cause lactation in male specimens.’”
He laughed to himself.
“That’s a dirty trick, Zandik,” he muttered.
He wasn’t certain why Dottore had slipped him the serum, but he was not going to let his new found biology stop him from his rigorous evening routine. He slipped from his office to the adjoining suite, putting the tea kettle on, and drawing a bath. He slipped into the warm water, letting it lap over his now engorged breasts. He bit back a groan as his hands trailed over them, pinching his nipples and observing the spurt of milk that came out. His dick twitched at the feeling.
“Fascinating,” he whispered, then groaned. “I’m starting to sound like him,” he muttered despairingly.
He fondled his breasts, one hand slipping down to circle his hole. He pondered whether he should get himself off now or send for the Doctor. He settled on prepping himself before slipping out of the bath and into a silk robe. He summoned a fatui agent and sent him to call the Doctor.
An idea struck him as he waited, rifling through his wardrobe to find a two piece set of black lace lingerie. Though his normal chest size filled out the cups nicely, his newly enlarged breasts made the lace stretch lewdly. He admired himself in the full length mirror opposite his bed. Maybe he should ask his dear Doctor to keep him this way.
Speaking of the devil, the man in question entered with little ceremony.
“Did it work, Regrator?” he began hurriedly. Pantalone’s back was to him. “Tell me all the physical changes that you have undergone in the past three hours, starting from-”
Dottore was rarely rendered speechless. Pantalone had turned around, letting his robe fall to reveal his engorged, lace-clad breasts.
“Not even a greeting, my dear Doctor? Always so scientific and methodical.”
Dottore had no response, his mouth hung open, spit starting to pool on his tongue. Pantalone chuckled and walked towards him.
“Tell me, Doc, what’s the anatomical term for these,” he squeezed his chest, the milk seeping through the lace. “Breasts? Boobs? Tits?”
Dottore inhaled sharply.
“Ohhh is that it, Doctor, do you like my tits?” He pushed them together in a lewd display, gasping as more milk trickled out. He moaned, partly playing it up and partly in relief.
“Mmm…my tits are so sore, Doc, can you help me?”
Dottore reached a hesitating hand forward.
“Can- can I touch them, Pantalone. Please?”
Pantalone bit his lip, pushing his chest forward into the other’s hand.
“You can do whatever you’d like, my dear Doctor.”
With permission thusly given, Dottore brought both hands to grasp at Pantalone’s chest.
“They’re so big,” he whispered reverently. “Fuck, I need to taste you.”
He bent down, pushing his mask up and off his head, letting it fall on the floor, before latching onto Pantalone’s nipple through the fabric. He let out a groan as the taste of the milk touched his tongue, pressing harder into the tit. Pantalone stumbled backwards, tangling finger in teal locks to support himself. He threw his head back, gasping in pleasure as Dottore eased more milk from him.
Dottore released his mouth regretfully, gasping to fill his lungs with air. He pushed Pantalone backwards, to lay him down across the bed before climbing onto him, eagerly pushing the lacey cups below his boobs, before latching back onto the swollen nubs. He suckled loudly, bringing his hands to squeeze both breasts, the one without his mouth covering it squirting milk over Pantalone’s smooth skin, running in rivulets into his cleavage, where the Doctor eagerly lapped it up.
Both Pantalone’s hands were tangled in Dottore’s hair, pushing him harder into his chest while his back arched up from the bed, pressing his lace-clad erection into his lover’s stomach.
“Fuck,” he breathed, “you feel so good, such a good Doctor for me.”
His praise made the Doctor moan, the sound reverberating in both their chests. He pushed his thigh up between Dottore’s legs, feeling his erection twitching with every suckle he took. Dottore pushed himself forward, chasing the pressure of Pantalone’s soft leg. He began humping it in earnest, disregarding the fact he was still clothed in his slacks and button up, not caring if he made a mess in his pants. He looked up from his lover’s breasts and Pantalone took in the sight of his dear Doctor, face flushed and eyes hazy. His mouth and chin were dripping with milk and saliva and his eyes rolled back as Pantalone grasped his hair, pulling his mouth off his tit, ignoring the noise of displeasure he let out.
“Look at you, Zandik.”
The Doctor whimpered at the use of his proper name.
“Do you like sucking on my tits like a baby, Zandik?”
The Doctor nodded desperately, trying to pull his head back to latch on again.
“Aww,” Pantalone’s voice was dripping in condescension, “Is my baby so thirsty?”
He brought one hand from Dottore’s head to squeeze his own breast, the milk squirting onto the Doctor’s face, where his tongue eagerly lapped it up.
“Ask nicely and you can have more milk, baby.”
Dottore whimpered, grinding his erection faster against Pantalone’s leg.
“Please, I need- can I suck on your tits, please, Mommy, I need your milk.”
Pantalone sucked in a sharp breath, then noticed the panic coming into Dottore’s clouded eyes, an embarrassed flush covering his cheeks. He quickly pushed his head back onto his chest, letting out a groan as Dottore latched back on his nipple.
“That’s it, baby. Fuck…you make Mommy feel so good.”
Dottore let out a whimper, his hips bucking pathetically. Pantalone had an idea, pulling Dottore off his chest again, this time causing tears to fill his red eyes. Pantalone drank in the sight for a moment before propping his head up with a pillow and pulling Dottore by his waist to straddle him. The Doctor’s brow was furrowed in confusion, evidently displeased by his lack of tits to suck. Pantalone chuckled at his face, reaching his hand down to undo the button and zipper on the other’s pants.
“Let Mommy help you,” he said, pushing his slacks and boxers down, biting his lip as Dottore's painfully hard cock sprung out. He gently pushed Dottore's hips down to sit on his midriff, biting back a groan as his cock slapped between his breasts. Pantalone pushed them together, trapping Dottore’s hard member between them.
“Go on baby,” Pantalone encouraged, “Don’t you want to fuck Mommy’s tits?”
Dottore immediately began rutting his hips quickly against Pantalone’s chest, his whimpering joining the lewd, wet sounds of precum and milk that slicked that glide of his hard cock. He moved his hands, pinching and squeezing Pantalone’s swollen nipples, watching mesmerized as more milk squirted out, running over his hands and cock. Pantalone hands guided his hips, reveling in the sight of the ever-stoic Doctor reduced to a pathetic mewling mess.
“Mommy, Mommy, I love your tits,” he whimpered, “thank you for letting me fuck your tits, Mommy.”
Pantalone groaned at his words.
“Fuck Zandik–, such a good baby for your Mommy, aren’t you?”
Dottore nodded fervently, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Pantalone melted at the sight.
“Won’t you be a good boy and cum all over Mommy’s tits?”
“Wanna be good for Mommy, please, please, I love you, Mommy.” Tears now fell freely from his eyes, hips jerking desperately as he squeezed Pantalone’s tits harder around his cock. Pantalone reached up and cupped his cheek, tracing his thumb over tear stains.
“I love you too, Zandik,” he murmured.
Dottore bent over, sobbing as he came, spilling all over Pantalone’s breasts. As soon as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm, he laid back down over the other, lapping up the obscene mixture of milk and cum that adorned Pantalone’s chest. Pantalone felt the Doctor's cock twitching again against his thigh, and realized his own need coursing through him. He stroked a hand gently through Dottore’s hair, scratching his scalp gently.
“Is my baby still needy?” he asked softly.
Dottore nodded against his chest. Pantalone tugged his hair sharply.
“Use your words, baby,” he reprimanded. Dottore whimpered.
“Please, Mommy, I need to- to…”
“Need what, baby, Mommy can’t help unless you tell me what you need.”
“Mommy…I need to…cum,” he whispered.
Pantalone smiled at him, pulling him up to give him a sloppy kiss, tasting his own milk and his lover's cum.
“That’s my good baby,” he wrapped a leg around the other man, pulling him in to grind their hardness together, Pantalone’s still covered by lace. Dottore let out a sound of displeasure at that, reaching his hand down to pull at the panties, frustration evident when they wouldn’t rip. Pantalone smacked his hand out of the way, swinging his legs over to one side to peel them off, sighing in relief as his cock bounced against his stomach. He pulled his knees together towards his chest, tracing his hands down to spread his prepared hole for the Doctor.
“Does my needy baby want to fuck Mommy’s pussy?”
Dottore nodded feverishly, pressing his hard cock against the tight rim.
“Please, p-please, Mommy, let me fuck your p-pussy.”
“Go on, baby,” Pantalone spread his legs, grasping Dottore’s hips to guide him into his waiting heat.
They groaned in unison, Pantalone at the stretch of the Doctor’s cock, Dottore at the tightness he sunk his cock into. Pantalone dragged his lover into a heated kiss, moaning obscenely into the other’s mouth as Dottore’s cock stretched his insides. The Doctor started thrusting, albeit a little shakily, humping into Pantalone’s tight hole. He watched in awe as milk spurted out of Pantalone’s tits in time to his thrusts, lowering his head to latch on to his swollen nipples, suckling fervently. Pantalone moaned, head falling back, dark hair splaying across the sheets. Dottore fucked him sloppy and greedily, lacking his usual accuracy and precision. Pantalone didn’t care.
“Fuck, baby,” he moaned lewdly, “you’re fucking Mommy so well, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck! Fuck! Oh my god! Oh fuck, baby! Mommy’s going to come! Fuck, I’m going to come on your cock, baby! Fuck!”
Dottore mewled against Pantalone’s tits, rutting into his tight hole.
“Please, Mommy, please-” he sobbed, “can I breed your pussy, Mommy?”
“Fuck, Zandik, yes!” Pantalone reached down, stroking his own cock in time to Dottore’s sloppy thrusts, “Fuck, baby, so good for me, fill me up with your cum, my love.”
“Thank you, Mommy, thank you, I love you,” Dottore whimpered as he came, his litany of praise turning into sobs that wracked his body, pumping load after load into Pantalone’s waiting heat. Pantalone himself came as soon as he felt the Doctor’s release filling him, with a groan and a murmur of Zandik’s name.
They stayed entwined in each other for many minutes, Pantalone tracing cursive “I love you”s on Dottore’s shaking back. After a while the Doctor stopped crying, his breathing evening out. Pantalone gently rolled him over, getting up to fetch a warm towel. He cringed as he caught sight of himself in the mirror, his chest covered in cum and milk. He threw the towel aside and opted for running a bath, returning to drag Dottore from the bed into the warm water with him, despite the other man’s protests.
They bathed in silence, not awkwardly, simply enjoying the warmth and companionship of each other. Pantalone had many questions, but those could wait for tomorrow. Once the water had reached a chill, they dried each other off, with touches unusually tender for men of their reputation. Pantalone tossed the cum-soaked duvet off the bed, and slipped under the satin sheets, holding them open for his lover. Dottore pushed him onto his back, and laid on his chest, giving one breast a gentle squeeze, only a small spurt of milk coming out. Pantalone gently slapped his hand away.
“They’ll be back to normal in the morning.” Dottore spoke, his voice rough from his earlier exertion.
“It’s a shame,” Pantalone sighed, “I quite fancied them.”
Dottore snorted out a laugh and rolled over, scooting back against Pantalone, who wrapped an arm around him.
“Fear not, Feofanya, I wrote down the formula.”
“I would expect nothing less from you, my dear Zandik.”