Amber woke one morning in early March with a strange, heavy fullness in her chest that went beyond the usual ache. She sat up slowly in bed, silk nightgown slipping off one shoulder. Her breasts felt different—tender, swollen to the point of discomfort, skin stretched tight. When she cupped them gently, a soft gasp escaped her lips. They were heavier than ever, veins faintly blue beneath the caramel surface, nipples dark and protruding more than usual.

She stood and walked to the mirror, pulling the nightgown down. The sight made her freeze. A single bead of milky fluid glistened at the tip of her left nipple. She touched it tentatively. More followed, slow and warm, trickling down the curve of her breast.