Yrba's Travels Pt. 03

--

When minutes later she regained her senses, Yrba no longer rested on her side. As she lay on her back, her breasts hung left and right over the sides of her chest and felt even fuller and taut, almost unbearably taut. Mirca laid beside her and wiped her mouth, plucking curls of black hair from her lips.

"Fou fould shave -- gack! -- fyour fnatch or bruff it more offen," she complained, scraping her fingernails over her tongue.

"Mirca — hurry," was the reply, half-panted. "My breasts... if you want to drink, you better do it now before I start to squirt by myself!"

"Oh, sorry, right!" The blonde hastily bowed forward and cupped the two swollen bags with both hands. Her lips wrapped around the first rough nipple. She barely touched it and immediately it spewed its delicious, warm load. Her cheeks shrunk with her first strong pull. Yrba groaned in maternal delight, spending all her pent-up milk into the hungry maw of her beloved blonde. The domed areola wrinkled and slowly disappeared, slipping inside the huge ring of Mirca's lips as she sucked stronger.

"Mmmmm...Mirca, you're so... wonderful. Your... tongue, do that again... mmmnnnghh!... C--c--cover me, squeeze me, empty me, eat me, drink me, I want to... so full... drain me...," she stammered.

Mirca rolled halfway over the shivering dark figure. Her body's muscular weight pushed Yrba down into the mattress. The witch wrapped her arms around the blonde's head and held her tight, as tight as she could with her trembling arms. Yrba's breath came in alternating waves of long, deep moaning and short panting. She curled up in excitement, trying to wrap herself around the hungry mouth that devoured her breast and switched teats unpredictably. Yrba wrapped her legs around the wide hips, grinding her naked body against Mirca's glowing torso. The blonde's heavy breasts dug into her stomach and flattened ever so slightly. Mirca bowed down to better reach the Darkskin's nervous nipples, and Yrba clawed over her drainer's broad shoulders, digging her nails into the mounds and bumps of muscles on the blonde's back.

The witch's body couldn't stand the onslaught of thrill for long. Yrba's legs and arms fell away and she stretched out again when a wave of weakness flooded through her. Her head fell back on the cushion, and with empty eyes and gaping mouth she reveled in the sensations of exhausting her milk into her darling's mouth through her nipples. And not just her milk. Her strength, her presence of mind — it seemed to flow, into her breasts, pushing into her areolae, making them bulge and strain against the barrier of her skin before it whizzed out through her throbbing nipples. Her teats struggled and strained, stretching towards the long tongue that played around them. The rosy tentacle wrapped around them, squeezed them and milked Yrba's warm, sticky load into the insatiable throat of her hungry giantess. The witch tried to breathe in, but failed to inhale against Mirca's heavy body and powerful embrace —

"Yrba?"

Mirca let go of the drained, swollen nipple. It took much longer to slip out of her mouth than she recalled it going in. She hauled herself up on her hands and knees and shuddered when she saw her friend's weak, sprawled body under her, the emptied breasts barely moving under her shallow breathing. Did she breathe at all—?

"Yrba! I didn't — I only — oh Yrba, wake up!"

She grabbed the witch and shook her. The limp body offered no resistance, and Yrba's head dangled fiercely.

"Yrba! I didn't want to crush you! I never thought I could — Help! Somebody help her!"

What do I do? She's barely — I need to get some air into her!

Mirca inhaled, cupped the ashen face and put her lips over the gaping mouth. And then she blew, and blew, and blew. Yrba's torso rose, the ribs groaned and stretched outwards. Pain arced into the witch's brain. The jolt made her mental motor stutter to life. She startled in Mirca's grip. Her eyes snapped open, and she struggled free from the giantess' hands.

Coughing and wheezing, the witch fell from the embrace and dropped back down on Mirca's thighs.

"Ouch," she groaned. "What happened? Why am I in your lap? Weren't you so eager to try the whole suckling thing?"

"I'm sorry! I'm so terribly sorry! I sucked and sucked, and you — you grabbed me and moaned and wiggled, so I thought it's okay, and I sucked some more, and then you let go, and — I didn't want to — I think I sucked your power out of you. And then I tried to blow it back, but I really didn't... I don't know how to say it!"

"So now you can drain the strength from people, too? Great. Great!" She rolled to her side and struggled to her hands and knees. Mirca grabbed her waist and straightened her up. Yrba shook her head. "Nooo, dear. Let's not jump to conclusions. Remember, magic does nothing for me, for better or for worse. I'm immune, so how the fuck should that work at all? Maybe you're just too heavy. But I've got to be sure. So, come tomorrow morning, we'll do that again with me on top, and we'll do it right!"

Mirca rose to her feet and stooped to the flat bags of skin hanging from the witch's chest. She cupped one and let the soft flesh and skin, drained of its delicious load, run through her finger, gently stroking and kneading it and running her thumbs over the swollen nipples. Yrba shuddered in barely contained delight. Mirca gently drew her other hand over the soft, flabby pillow, rolling it like a dumpling in her palms. "Really? With what? I mean, sorry, it's just, you now look —"

Yrba grinned widely. "Just you wait, darling. Just you wait. That's something I don't need magic for. You just go ahead and help the girls with whatever they need done today, and you'll see by the evening!"

--

Chapter 16: Hands-on Research

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Red devotedly scratched her head. Her hair was in a mess, and her body was wrapped in a slightly used dressing gown. She lurched down the cold stairs on blank feet, opened the kitchen door and hesitated when she found Yrba already sitting at the table, with —

"The hell?! Don't tell me you've had all that for breakfast already?!" she snapped, staring at the table and three empty crocks. "What are you up to now? You know how fast your tits bloat if you drink that much milk!"

Without a word, Yrba folded back her gown's sleeve, lowered her head, raised her eyebrows and looked at her from underneath her brow. Red leaned forward, pinched her eyes and laid her forehead in wrinkles.

"Yeouch!" she winced, "oo—kay. You've tied up your nipples, and your tits are ... a sad sight. I've not seen you that drained for ages. And there has been some scuffling in the attic this morning. Your blonde? She sucked you empty like that? Wow! Come on, tell me. How was it? Was it good? Can I have her, too? So now you're all bent on restocking? Out with it! You're under my roof, and so help me, if you're again playing around with things not meant for man to know, then I want to be the first to know."

She pulled up a chair, swiveled it around and sat down on it, putting her elbows over the backrest and cocking her head. Yrba sighed and told her.

After the witch finished explaining, Red sat motionless for a few seconds, then she jumped up, threw her arms in the air and paced up and down the kitchen. "No, no, no! What is it with you and your penchant for taking on any harebrained dare that life throws your way, huh?!"

--

"Uh, do you have anything to do for me?" Mirca asked as she bowed through the doorframe into the kitchen. "Li wanted me to come to her room because she, I don't know, she said she got some bales of fabric and wants to sew me new clothes or something—"

Yrba wiped off her milk mustache and nodded to her. "Well? Go ahead, then. You sure can use something a little less breezy than these improvised veils, don't you?"

--

By noon, Yrba's breasts had shaped up again. Their skin showed a healthy, silken gloss over the delicious dark cocoa tone, and they hung heavy and soft without a trace of their formerly sorry shape. The girls came down into the kitchen at about the same time, and she had to explain over and over again why she sat there with the empty remains of a week's supply of milk.

After she finished, Charlene eyed her skeptically. "Uh-huh. Suuuure. So you're filling yourself up by drinking lots of milk." The proud lass shook her head. "You're pulling our legs, aren't you? You're all over that magic and stuff. Means you're not one to get caught by it, right? So you maybe can bloat their," she threw a glance at Sylvia and Jean, "milk jugs. Your own? Riiight. You sure you're not just playing a prank on me because you envy—" Charlene brushed aside her morning gown that hung in long folds like a carefully draped waterfall from her elongated, bottle-shaped, gravity-defying breasts and grinned sardonically.

"—those?"

Yrba smiled. Ooh, we've got a boaster here, eh?

"Wanna bet?" she replied aloud. "Loser's doing the dishes, for two weeks in a row? I say, by evening, I'll be bigger than you. I warn you, it's a talent I have."

"You're already bigger than me, woman," Charlene snorted. "Everywhere."

The witch shrugged. Her smile was nothing but friendly. "You know what I mean. So? I say that at nightfall, your boobs will be tiny compared to mine."

Charlene frowned. "No tricks? And you leave mine alone, d'you hear?"

"No tricks," nodded Yrba, "and yours will stay like they are."

Charlene gazed around uneasily. All the other girls' eyes were on her now, and though on the whole she got along with them, their gazes were not as smirk-free as the witch's. The proud girl knew she could not back down, not now. The hag had tricked her good, no doubt about that.

"Okay," Charlene sighed.

The girl jerked back when Yrba suddenly reached out and cupped the taut underside of her breasts. "You promised!" she gasped with wide-open eyes, as if her breasts were about to shrivel and shrink any moment now in the warm grip, yet she did not dare to pull away. If I move, maybe she'll rip them right off! Oh please don't—!

"Relax," cooed the witch, gently kneading and stroking the far protruding horns. "I'd never harm such rare wonders. Just want to make sure I know what exact size to beat." She licked her lips. The bronze skin, the proud nipples, always pointing slightly upward even without the unneeded support of Yrba's hands...

"If you want me to, I could make them twice their size, dear," she moaned. Charlene opened her mouth, and Yrba quickly added, "no, that's not about the bet. Not at all." She paused and sighed, admiring the resilient form. "Marvelous. Yes, you're right. It's not yet time to hex them better, not while they're in such a great shape by themselves. Maybe a few years from now." Yrba winked at her. "Of course mine will still best them by evening, but that's just temporarily."

Charlene eyed her in a slightly confused way.

--

By afternoon, Yrba's breasts still sagged somewhat, but their bulk exceeded their usual shape and made them rise from the witch's rib, two veined half-melons, juicy and tautened by their filling and in utter need of harvesting. Their bases started to stretch bigger, borrowing skin from Yrba's ribcage as they rounded out and slowly protruded further.

Yrba nodded to Red.

"You still got the little barrel of oil?"

"Of course. Every now and then, we get a client with a really big piece, and it's much — oh wait a minute! You're that ripe already? Hot damn!" Red turned in her chair. "Jean, bring me the first barrel to the right from the special cabinet. You know where. Hurry." She leaned in and ran her fingers along the underside of Yrba's orbs. "Last time I held something like that in my hands, I was milking cows."

"Speaking of udders — Li's not still playing dress-up doll with Mirca, is she? She's acting a little weird when it comes to my girl."

Red shook her head. "No, I sent Mirca to the garden shed, she's chopping up wood. You think you can spare a minute from your milk soaking here? I guess you'd like to take a look at her. I know you do."

The bawd smiled mysteriously.

--

The axe came down like a force of nature and dug through the log in one single strike, but stopped short of the chopping block underneath by fractions of an inch while the halves tumbled to the floor. Mirca's sweat-drenched hair swung around as she raised her right arm again while picking up the next piece with her left hand and putting it in position. The mounds of muscles on her bare back slid around, and — swish—thock — down clattered the next two handy pieces. Her whole body rolled and sidled in an orchestrated dance of dream-like precision. The afternoon sun painted bars of golden shine on her skin as the light came in lines through the gaps in the planks of the shed. A triangular piece of cloth, slung around her hips, was the bulky woman's only dress. The air in the shed was heavy with the smell of fresh wood and Mirca's sweat.

Yrba slowly made her way around the inside of the shed, staying well out of reach of the sparkling blade, and stared incredulously. Mirca raised her head and smiled. Even without looking, the axe in Mirca's hand made short work of the next pieces.

"Hi, Yrba! — swish—thock—clatter — Are you feeling better — swish—thock—clatter — now? You look much rounder up top again."

Yrba stared open-mouthed at Mirca's swaying breasts that moved like huge church bells. Mirca followed her gaze.

"Ah, yes, those — swish—thock—clatter — I had to get used to at first. — swish—thock—clatter — But it's all good now. It just tickles — swish—thock—clatter — when they dangle and rub against each other like that. Do you need — swish—thock—clatter — me for something in the house?"

The witch shook her head and stared at the soft bags that slipped and slid around, chasing each other along a complicated lying-eight track. Her mouth was dry.

Swish—thock—clatter.

"You keep doing that. Gotta go back to the kitchen. Need another sip," she stammered, but couldn't tear her gaze from Mirca.

Swish—thock—clatter.

She wasn't a clumsy girl now. Swinging the axe, she was like a prowling animal, like a cross between the bulk of a bear and the sleekness of a cat, all fluid motion, all senses and muscles honed to perfection by years of repetition.

Swish—thock.

This time the axe ended up in the chopping block, humming faintly. Mirca turned her back to the witch, bent down — Yrba's eyes dove into the sweat-dripping, matted bush that showed as the giantess' pareu gaped open — and grabbed two splintered pieces of a yard-long bar that once had been an axe handle. Eyeing nervously at the door, she leaned in to Yrba. The scent of her sweat-covered body, mixed with the smell of fresh pitch, washed over the witch and made her knees grow weak with desire.

"Uh, Yrba, could you—," Mirca whispered nervously while her eyes darted to the door every now and then, "could you go talk to Red for me? Because, when I started, uh, I broke her axe. See that? What a cheap handle! It snapped right at the first strike! I—I carved a new one, a better one, but I lost some time. I'd be much further already. You think she's going to be angry with me? I really didn't mean to dawdle, it's just—"

Yrba looked around the shed. Logs piled everywhere, in some places they piled right up to the ceiling already. She smiled.

"Oh, Red's not going to be angry with you, dear. Far from it. Seems to me you've done a week's worth of work already."

Her fingers slid over the smooth surface of the new axe handle. She nodded in approval.

"You sure know your ways with that kind of wood, darling. No, just keep doing what Red told you, and you'll be fine. I'll be back in the kitchen."

--

By late afternoon, Yrba's breasts had overwhelmed her bustier and half-hung, half-stood off her chest. The skin over the witch's back stretched thin, consumed by the elongated milk bags in her front. Crammed with milk and still distending, they felt almost solid to Red's fingers as she gently applied handfuls of oil. They rounded out, not along the already huge bases where they created a sharp fold against Yrba's ribcage, but about halfway between her chest and the nipples now. As the hours passed, their shape changed from huge pills into even huger spheres. And they kept on bloating, just like Yrba kept on putting away gulp after gulp of her amazing transformation's white fuel.

--

By evening, Yrba had no choice but to forgo her bustier altogether. The base of her breasts went beyond the designated cups of the garment, which started to cut into her flesh, so she just hung an overcoat around her naked shoulders and went back to filling herself. Her breasts, wider than her chest now, spread open the gaping garment. Their rotund shape no longer showed any trace of elongation. The orbs stood taut and proud and spherical from her chest, besting Charlene's youthful, exuberant protrusion by a hand's width and ridiculing the girl's volume. Her strangled nipples bobbed with every heartbeat. The skin glowed, and the veins painted meandering, pulsating river maps on the glistening surface. When she tilted her head just the right way, the witch was able to take a peek straight down through the triangular cave between her boobs. Yrba's breath came in short gasps of arousal, and in between them, she still swallowed tiny gulps from the seventh crock. She moaned with delight at every curious touch and stroke of the dazzled circle of girls who followed her growth with bated breath.

--

"Hah! Guess who's next again? Better luck next time!" triumphed Sylvia and held up the longest straw. Mute complaints came from the other three girls, things like Luck is with the daft or That straw's so long, I bet you pulled it from your head's stuffing, but they grudgingly accepted the luck of the draw. Sylvia lowered her hands into the bowl of soothing oil and proceeded to slather the burning skin of Yrba's breasts in long, circular strokes. She shuddered as much as the witch who leant forward to push her orbs into the gentle grip of the splayed, slippery fingers. Sylvia playfully flicked against the nipples. Yrba gasped with closed eyes.

"You do that again, and I'll soak the bench good, Sylv," she stammered, gnawing on her lower lip in the throes of arousal. "Oh heavens, so full..."

Charlene eyed the swelling shapes from the corner of her eyes. Her fingers drummed on the table and she jerked angrily on her chair until she finally jumped to her feet.

"Fine! You win! You stand out farther than me now!" she bitched. "Happy? I hope you fill yourself until you burst, you — you bloated cow!"

She stormed out of the kitchen. The others heard her trample up the stairs. The door of her room slammed shut, her bed creaked in protest as she threw herself into the pillows and then muted sobbing came down through the ceiling.

Sylvia sighed. "As much as I want to keep my hands on you to see how big you get, Yrba, I think I better go and comfort our envious runner-up." She rose, but not before she ran her fingers over the two orbs one more time, shook her head and sighed in quiet longing.

Yrba carefully moved her arms beneath the milk bags and hefted the slippery, dripping orbs. She put her mammaries on the table top and exhaled as the pull of their weight disappeared and the remaining strain came only from the slight flattening of the two pumpkins. The cool wood drew some of the excess heat out of her flesh.