Siren Song Ch. 04.1

The ocean was calm this night. Weak glimmers of glowing seas danced on the waves as they rolled ashore. What little surf there was, it didn't roar tonight but whispered. Barbara raised her right hand to rub across her brow. She didn't reach her intended target. Just as her hand moved at its quickest, it slammed into her right breast. Clutching her mistreated mammary, Barbara stooped from the sudden, unexpected pain. It faded quickly but left behind a tremble like an overstrained muscle deep in the flesh.

What is this? What is this new feeling? Barbara wondered. Little contractions spread now right under her skin. It didn't feel like the pressure of milk amassing inside her. It didn't even feel bad, just somewhat odd. She probingly ran her fingers along the fold where the underside of her breasts changed into her ribcage, and noticed another change. The narrow stretch had hurt just hours before, but now it was as healthy and firm as ever to her touch. Barbara's own fingertips caused a tickling sensation, and she couldn't stifle the little chuckle that sent a ripple through her chest's sensitive volume.

The sound of drums far off in the distance made Barbara rear her head and listen nervously. The more she strained her ears, the more the pounding became louder in her head until she recognized it for her own heartbeat.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Yeah, right. Drums out at sea but not a ship in sight. Can't be. I'm too tired and strung out. Can't trust my own senses."

Barbara rolled her shoulders and moaned. "Ugh! And why did I tie my chest up so tightly with this contraption? A firm fit is nice and all, but I should've left a little slack, it feels like my girls are trying to squeeze out through the nipple holes —"

Barbara's eyes bugged. "The hell—? I left a little slack! Where has it gone — oh no — oh please, no!"

The twitches deep in her breasts grew stronger, and they followed the beat of the drums in her ears. She cupped her heavy pair. Still no pressure of milk. Her flesh was bountiful yet supple in her hands. The only thing firm and tight around it was the linen. Barbara's fingers found the edge of the cloth. Her naked skin bulged over the rim. She knew she'd slung it only loosely around the upper parts of her orbs.

Boom went the beat in her head, and as it faded with a strange echo, Barbara felt the faint wave of stretching that ran through her breasts. The bulge around the cloth's rim grew bigger as the linen cut deeper into her tissue. She gasped for air.

Boom.

"They're not swelling with milk! They're really growing! But why — gods have mercy! They must be growing because Menena milked them! Because they were drained so much, they want to be ready for the next time!"

Boom.

The cradle of linen held the underside of Barbara's boobs firmly in place, offering only one escape to their swelling. As she craned her neck, she saw the faint tremble and noticed the slowly rising flesh that grew towards her chin.

Boom.

Barbara groaned, trembling in rapidly increasing arousal as her nipples slipped from their holes, got bent downwards as their bases rose and finally scraped over the edge of the wrapper to freedom, signaling that the upper halves of her milky mountains already had outgrown their prison of cloth. The rim of the linen dug into the circumference of her bodacious breasts.

Boom.

She felt the beginning of a slowly sliding motion in her malleable mammaries. The pounds upon pounds of her udders constantly swelling bigger spilled over the cloth's rim and dragged along what little had remained inside the cradle. Moments later, Barbara's desperately grabbing hands overflowed with too much of herself, too much of deliciously malleable, yielding, sensitive, aroused self. The linen was but an empty shawl slung around her ribs beneath the straining areas where her breasts resided on her ribcage, its cloth trapped in the fold of sag that reached halfway around her torso now.

Boom.

Barbara had rested her back against the wall by the door post, but with every drumbeat she felt the pressure of leaning grow weaker. As the pear-shaped twins of sensuousness bulged relentlessly, their massive, off-center weight slowly made her cant forward. Barbara arched backwards, trying to cradle and balance the pair of prize pumpkins. She fought valiantly, maintaining her balance for as long as she could.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Barbara's heartbeat raced now, and her growth raced along with it. Sweaty and slippery, her breasts' skin rubbed against her arms as they stretched larger and swelled higher.

"They're so big I can barely reach around them anymore!" groaned Barbara. "And — so heavy — can't hold them up any longer — if only David were here —"

~

"Heavens, Dave, help me!" she gargled, alone in the nightly darkness of the small hut. The constantly increasing weight of her ballooning breasts dragged her forward until the huge orbs flopped down onto the table. Barbara held her arms around the massive spheres crowned by thumb-sized nipples, trying to keep her new assets from stretching and pancaking too far. As she moved her legs, more sensations that had been fighting for her attention finally registered in her mind.

On her other end, her widening hips struggled against her dress. Cloth spanned over bulging buttocks. Barbara groaned as her cheeks were compressed by the durable fabric, squeezing against her plumping labia and almost forcing the reddened flesh into her womb. Finally, just as the pressure and strain of the rough garment holding back her burgeoning rear seemed unbearable, Barbara heard the screeches of ripping cloth, and her new, rounder, curvier buttocks swelled out of the torn skirt. Its twin bulges separated. Reaching from the onset of her ass at her lower back, down between her legs, and right up to her pubes, the widening crevice turned into a chilly strait of skin covered with evaporating sweat. Without the pressure of her buttocks, the soaked plump hairy lips between her legs pouted and parted, letting her wrinkled inner labia spill out again.

The quivers and cramps of growing and stretching slowed as the booming of Barbara's heartbeat subsided. The thunder in her head gave way to the ordinary noises of night from the outside. She stooped and sagged down on her taut, aching pumpkins, struggling for air, pinching her eyelids shut to hold back the tears of fear and desperation, her every nerve and fibre trembling.

Barbara opened her eyes wide and froze. The taste of salt filled her mouth.

~

Warmth spread over her arms, and it came from deep within her breasts. Their skin rippled faintly while they rose before Barbara's eyes like leavened dough, losing their flattened shape and rounding out due to the ever-increasing inner pressure. Ducts stretched and swelled with milk as her glands stockpiled pint upon pint of nurturing liquid into the enormous bags.

"No! No more! It's too much!" she sobbed. Barbara raised her head to the sky, tears streaming down over her cheeks. She struggled and pulled, but her strength was no match for the combined weight of milk and flesh. She was helplessly tied to the table now, her clothes in shambles, just barely held together by the rope around her waist. All she managed to do was to drag up the chair by the tips of her toes, so at least she didn't need to kneel in front of the swollen sacks of her own breasts that now stretched almost across the narrow side of the table, a yard long and half a yard high. As the noises of milk squeezing into the spongy tissue of Barbara's udders finally died down, the faint drip drip drip of liquid trickling from her pinkie-sized teats remained the only sound.

When Menena sees this, she'll milk me more. And then they'll grow even more! I need to get some of that out of me, need to —

Barbara put her fingers on the huge sacks of her breasts and tried squeezing some of the warm, fresh supply towards the nipples.

Not a second later, she held her hands well out of reach of her breasts with her arms stretched out sideways, shaking and trembling as agony crushed her guts. The tendons in her neck dragged down the corners of her mouth.

— Gods! My areola, as if they'd burst! The faintest motion — I'm all bloated inside — I can't squeeze it out, they're so ungodly huge, I can't even reach the right places, I'll just tear something if I keep pushing it.

She bit her lower lip.

I must be milked or I come apart! I must have this load drawn from me or I'll burst!

Her eyes bugged as realization hit her.

Oh no — I'm Menena's cow for good.

~

Chapter 15: Hands Of An Expert

~

"Hey, cow! You ready?" Menena's yell effortlessly made it through the walls of Barbara's hut. The young woman jerked awake. Late morning light crept through the gap between the door and its frame. The hoofbeats of Menena's horse slowed down, and soon Barbara heard her rummaging about at the well, and the creaking of the pulley.

"Oh please, hurry up and milk me," moaned Barbara, tied to the immovable weight of her sack-sized, overfilled breasts that rested on the groaning kitchen table.

"And how!" answered the shopkeeper from the outside. "Oh, I really hope you've got some more of your sweet, sweet milk, because that meager bucket you squirted yesterday barely lasted me until midnight! Mmmh, and I slept like a baby afterwards, no sickness, not even a wrong burp. Oh yes, you're my prize cow!"

Menena kicked open the door, carrying two buckets of water in her hands and two pairs of empty leather bags roped together over her shoulders. She froze in the frame. Before her eyes, Barbara lay halfway over the kitchen table, her slender, naked torso resting halfway inside the valley between two taut pillows that shone like the finest silk. The shopkeeper's eyes traced their curve. Menena hesitated and blinked in disbelief for a moment when she recognized the palm-sized darker patches for the areolae and therefore the pair of huge pillows for Barbara's breasts.

"Might need bigger bags," Menena gulped, but moments later, she was as lofty as they come. "Here," she groaned as she lifted the water buckets on the tabletop. "Don't want my precious cow to die of thirst. This'll help you fill up again later. Now let's see what's on the table."

Menena smiled and smacked her lips with relish, and her green eyes sparkled with greed. "Gee, I can hardly believe how huge you are now! There must be gallons waiting for me. I'll never again drink or eat anything but your delicious milk. Oh, just you wait, my sweet pair of udders; I have a special treat for you today." She took a small flask from her belt and pulled out the plug.

"What are you giving me those frightened looks for, eh? Oh, you'll like it! This mixture of soothing weeds and fat, it's marvelous for straining skin," grinned Menena. "Y'know, only the best for my prize cow. I wouldn't treat you with anything less than what I use myself." She pulled down the rim of her tight bodice and let her own pair hang out. Menena's chest was a glorious sight to behold. As she leaned forward, her mammaries no longer rested against her ribcage but swung freely. They had their biggest diameter just off her body, and the huge pale pears ended in big nipples on domed dark areola.

She cupped one orb and lifted it gently. The malleable volume bulged over her widespread fingers. "See? Firm yet soft, and neither stretch mark nor wrinkle on the skin. Takes half an hour each day, rubbing the ointment into them, but it's so very worth it. And if you behave, next time I might even feed you, not just water you."

Menena turned the flask upside down, and slowly a ropey liquid pooled in her palm. Rubbing her hands, she spread a copious helping of the ointment until her fingers glistening with slippery wetness. Then she leaned over the table and used the rest of the thick fluid oozing out to draw a long spiral on Barbara's vast expanse of breasts.

"Ooh, doesn't it look as if your Davey-darling blew his load all over you? Let me rub it in now —"

The raven's greasy fingertips traced huge circles on the barely yielding mountains of flesh on the table. As soon as the thick string of lube was spread far enough, she switched to using all of her hands, running them along the sides and across Barbara's painfully hard and crinkled nipples. Time and again, Menena placed her glistening hands flat against Barbara's collarbones and, pressing down harder, drew them towards the domed areola that rewarded her ministrations with a visible swelling that slowly receded as soon as the shopkeeper lifted her hands to begin the next stroke.

"So — much milk — squeezing — my nipples!" moaned Barbara, her hands clutched around the side edges of the table. Her breasts' glistening skin was flushed and warm all over, and she felt how the taut container relaxed with the oil slowly being taken in. There was none of the pain that her own desperate attempt had yielded. Menena's experienced fingers promised a long-lasting, thorough relief.

"I sure hope so," Menena smiled greedily. "And doesn't it feel nice, being rubbed by gentle, slippery hands, eh?"

"Oh the gods, yes!" exclaimed Barbara, only to almost choke on her own words.

"Uh—huh? So after years and years of honing my skills on myself it all comes down to making the homewrecker feel nice?" She slapped the quivering expanse of rosy skin, only to soothe the reddening spot with slowly circling strokes. "No, no, no. Oh, I almost forgot. Hush, my darlings. Momma's not going to hurt you. You're my heifer now. No need to feel ashamed, you know? Only the best for you, because a happy cow is a generous cow. And it's high time for you to be generous now, generous by the gallons. Let's start with that one here —"

She focused on Barbara's left breast, working her one flat hand into the foot-deep cleavage and trapping the barely malleable bag between her splayed fingers. "My goodness, it's so massive, it's like trying to wrestle a fattened sow!" gasped Menena. She squeezed from both sides and felt liquid moving under her palms as she dragged her hands slowly towards the reddened nipple. "And would you look at that, a goat's teat on a cow's udder, who would've thought," winked Menena. Her fingers closed around the elongated, rough protrusion and moved in little jerking motions.

"Hm, quite impressive, the way your nipples are swelling now. You're close to overflowing, aren't you? Here, let me put the bag in place, I don't want to have my clothes sprayed with your milk." Menena slipped one hand under the warm mountain, kneading the taut skin. Her other hand grabbed the first of the pair of leather bags and held the funnel-like opening over the engorged teat. "There now, just let go," she smiled and moved her fingers in milking waves against the deep texture of glands and overfilled ducts she felt in her grip.

~

"What's the matter, cow? Not giving milk today?" Menena kneaded the warm flesh impatiently. "After all that tender care? That won't do! I can feel it sloshing about in your sacks, so let down! Really, who told you you'd have a say in those matters? If you're so stubborn, I still do have a bundle of Milkmaid's Friend that I can stuff down your gullet, y'know?"

"Eek!" Barbara squeaked. "I'm — all clogged, gods! Don't squeeze so hard! It's just not coming, it's not my fault, I need to — must — help me..."

"Uh-huh? Let's see now."

Menena knelt down before the obstinate nipple. Her hands reached beneath the pliable orb and lifted its front to her face. Her lips pouted, she opened her mouth, her warm breath crept over Barbara's skin. Menena's pink tongue flicked against the rough cylinder that had reached the size of her own forefinger.

"Mene— gods, that's sick!" gasped the helpless, swollen blonde.

"Mmmh?" mumbled the shopkeeper. Her tongue wetted the circle of her lips before she sucked up Barbara's bloated areola. She chewed ever so slightly, just pressing her lips together. Trembling and faint twitching spread from the saliva-coated dome out into Barbara's excessive flesh.

"Oh yes," moaned the young woman as her teats finally opened up in Menena's deft grip, the milk spraying out painting the inside of the suckling mouth with white deliciousness.

"Og myeff," gargled Barbara's fiendish milkmaid, pulling and squeezing stronger as the fat nipples hardened and swelled more. She drew a couple of huge gulps, then she pinched the aroused flesh playfully at its root and pulled the glistening nipple from her pouted lips. Barbara winced, and Menena smiled contentedly. She poked a finger into the yielding sphere before her and laughed. "You're turning into a real cow, you know? Just like you deserve it. See, your milk doesn't spray all over the place any more, now it comes out through one fat hole in your enormous teats. And they're just the right shape and size for my hands."

~

"Hhuuhhh — huuuuhhh — hhhuunnhh."

Psssshhh — pssshhh — pssshhh.

Barbara's breathing came in time with the hissing of milk into the funnel. Every now and then, Menena's hands left the spewing teat-nipple and stroked the vast expanse to squeeze more of the sticky-sweet produce from the soaked flesh into the doming areola. Her fingers kept on draining squirt after copious squirt from the overflowing udder, and the leather bag she aimed the thick spurts into bloated steadily while Menena's grin widened.

Menena sighed happily and paused. She laid her head onto the softening pillow of Barbara's right breast.

"Mmmmh, such a nice rest. So warm and big and fluffy." She forced her hands under the flattened orb and cuddled the pliable breast with both arms. "Y'know, once Dave's back with me, maybe I'll let you live in my bedroom. You could be the nicest pair of pillows for us, breakfast included. Much better than becoming bonfire steak, don't you agree? And if they grow some more, you'd make a very comfortable bed. Yes, maybe I'll order a whole bag of Milkmaid's Friend the next time a trader comes by. Something for you to chew on. Would you like that? Wouldn't you love for your breasts to swell huge for me, cow? Just imagine, me splayed under my David, his giant cock pounding away into me, the two of us right on top of your silky-soft, bed-sized, milk-engorged breasts."

"W—whatever you say," groaned Barbara. "More — draw out more of my milk! Drain me! Oh the gods, I'm still so full —"

"Yes, I can feel it. I can hear it, I can hear your breast bubbling and groaning, filling up again," laughed Menena. She squeezed the sack of glands with both arms. Barbara squeaked in surprise. Her nipple twitched skywards as it bulged with dammed-up milk.

"My goodness, still stretching and swelling?" smirked Menena as she pinched the teat at its root. She slipped the reddened cylinder the size of a below-average dick in between her pouted lips and took away just enough of her fingers' pressure to let a thick spurt of milk fill her cheeks with the freshest, tastiest serving she'd ever swallowed. She pulled the glistening flesh tube out with a shplop and gulped down the ample mouthful, smacking her lips afterwards.

"Oh yes, you'll be such a nice addition to my furniture. There's just no competition any more, or do you really think your lovey-dovey Davey-darling will pick a pair of udders over a woman he can still be seen with in daylight?" She laughed wickedly, even louder when she saw the pain and tears in Barbara's eyes. Her hands closed around Barbara's nipples and continued their milking.