Yrba's Travels Pt. 03

"Aaaahhhh. That's better. Oh yes, that's better. I'm afraid the hard part's still to come. Someone hand me the next crock, please. Up to now, it's been fun. Time to cram some serious load into them."

And did she ever. Pint after pint disappeared into her mouth and emerged again in her breasts. By bedtime, the witch put a long piece of cloth on the table and gruntingly heaved her breasts onto it one by one. She quickly slung and knotted it into an improvised sling around her shoulders and her back before she struggled to her feet. The orbs, now each more than one and a half feet across, pulled her down to her hands and knees. Slowly, she moved through the corridor and dragged herself up the stairs to the attic, her boobs swaying in the improvised cradle like two big udders on a cow unmilked for far too long. She moaned with pain to every step that jolted through her brimming, overblown breasts. Despite the wrapping, the visible dents of her nipples barely cleared the stairs. Her mammaries bulged over both sides of the band of fabric. They hung heavy and glistened from the film of sweat, copious oil and the smoothness of the straining skin. The girls followed her and offered help, but she pushed their hands away.

"Too taut! Nobody touch me!" she snarled. "Leave me alone! Isn't it time for you to go to bed already? Huh?"

Red rolled her eyes.

"You heard her, ladies. Go on, hush. I think Miss Swelly Boob Witch here knows what she's doing."

She watched the grumbling women disappear into their rooms before she leant down to her friend, furrows of worry all over her forehead.

"Yrba, you do know what you're doing, right? Dammit, when I see how you stuff yourself, I really prefer the little trick you taught me. Don't forget, me and the girls, we're just a wooden floor away. Pound on the floor, and you'll have more mouths willing to relieve you of that burden than you've got teats for," and a loving smile wrinkled the corners of her mouth as she added, "you mad cow, you."

Yrba managed a wry grin.

"You'll not get near my teats as long as I can help it. The only one to relieve me will be Mirca. Uh — if the girls are all in their rooms now, then where is she?"

Red slapped her forehead. "I forgot! I sent her to the shed to chop up the woodpiles! But that was hours ago! You don't think—?"

What started as a chuckle in Yrba's throat quickly turn into a groan of ache as the trembles wandered through her tumid knockers. "H — nnngh! Dammit! Don't make me laugh, you mean old bawd! — Heh. If you didn't tell her when to stop, then I guess she's still at it."

--

Mirca crawled naked through the floor hatch into the attic, her body somewhat damp from her quick dip into the tub after a day of hard work that had her covered in sweat. She still radiated the inner warmth of abundant physical activity. Wiggling her bulging shape through the opening into the dimly lit room, she sighed happily.

"Ahhhh! That was so good, finally getting to work again! And Red seemed very happy with my work too!"

The attic's floor creaked ever so slightly under the tall girl's massive weight of shifting and swelling muscles as she turned around and stooped to close the hatch. She lowered the door lid, raised her head while still stooping and started, "I like it when I see piles of hard wood getting bigger in front of me—."

Then she saw the result of Yrba's day of intense filling. Her jaw dropped, the door's handle slipped from her fingers splayed in shock and the hatch slammed shut. For a few seconds, she just stared and didn't move at all except for the slow calming of her swaying breasts. Then she shook her head in disbelief and extended her arms.

"Gods! Yrba, what have you — please, stop that, that's just not —," Mirca stuttered.

"Hush! We'll see tomorrow. Now let's go to bed," groaned the witch.

The blonde clutched her head and tore at her wet hair as she fell to her knees in front of her friend. "Are you crazy?!" she gasped. "You can't sleep like that! And when I see you in pain, I can't sleep either! No, you come here, and I'll milk—"

"No-oooooh," Yrba moaned as she straightened her upper body and extended her arm to stroke Mirca's cheek. The now much too narrow skin over her shoulders protested with a shower of stings and jolts against the motion.

"Mirca, it's — it's okay, dear. Leave it be. Eating late isn't healthy. You'll get a huge breakfast tomorrow instead. Gods, what a double serving that's going to be. I hope you're hungry? I won't let go of you until I'm empty again."

Mirca was close to tears. She shook her head, her blue eyes firmly fixed on Yrba's brown, half-closed ones. "Yrba, please. Don't stuff yourself like that — that's just crazy!"

The witch smiled, though the corners of her mouth twitched to every occasional stab of pain in her breasts. Her milk ducts stretched and strained to contain the ongoing produce of her glands.

"Just a few hours more," she panted. "Hand me that other crock over there, will ya? I still need to add some topping."

--

Yrba sat by the side of the mattress Mirca was snoring on. The girl had tried to stay awake with her, true to her word. However, with her body still soaked in Yrba's potion, a faint sigil drawn with concealed fingers was enough to shut her up for the night and give her some rest. Yrba admired the young woman's well-defined muscles and the one huge breast that peeked out from under the thin blanket. The late summer's heat trapped under the roof did away with any need for thick covers. Mirca's enviable body showed clearly through the thin cloth clinging to the mounds and depressions.

My cutie. Oh how I wish I hadn't made your life so complicated. Well, tomorrow we'll find out some more about what you can or can not do, my dear. Sleep now. Sleep for the both of us.

The witch smiled, exhaled and looked around. The floor was covered in straw, as she had ordered. Easy to clean, and it hopefully would soak up any spilled milk. Nothing left to do but to keep emptying the last crock. And then? No way was she going to lie down. On her side, on her belly, on her back? Impossible. She balanced her round, stretched orbs in her lap. Their heavy, doughy meat, filled with inordinate amounts of milk straining against the tied-up nipples, rested on her thighs. Her legs prickled. The weight already hindered the blood's circulation. And still she reached for the half-empty crock, the tenth, and raised it to her lips with both trembling hands.

She put it down and accidentally knocked it over as her limbs' strength ebbed and her arms fell limply to her side. It rolled along the floor and came to rest against the far wall, empty but for a tiny puddle that now collected on the curved inside. Her head sagged back against the wooden beam she leant on. She panted. Silent moans crept into her breath. Her milk glands transformed the new resources into yet more of the nurturing liquid that already overfilled her breasts. Yrba's trembling upper lip crawled from her shiny teeth as she gnawed on her lower lip.

Just — a few hours — more. Just — a few —

She must've dozed off, despite the strain and despite the ache of her spanning skin, because she woke with a startled yelp as Mirca gently brushed over her shoulder. The light of morning came in through the tiny windows and filled the room. Yrba's breath raced in short spasms, and she cramped up with the waves of pain that seared through her body. Her eyes opened reluctantly.

Her breasts' skin color was no longer the delicious tone of dark chocolate. The skin spanned tightly around the two orbs. Their bloated shape hid her legs from her sight. The warm brown tone of her skin had overnight turned into an unnatural, bright mocha. Rivulets of hot sweat ran down the glowing balloons. She touched a few of the opaque drops and brought her fingertips to her lips.

Milk. She was sweating milk.

"Right," Yrba groaned through clenched teeth, "now let's do this! Mirca, lay on your back! I'll sit on your belly this time, and you open the nipple ties and suck out all you can! The right one first."

"Uh, my right or your right?"

Another jolt of tautness surged through the witch as she rolled around and grabbed the undersides of her breasts to stop the monstrous momentum. She held her breath for a few seconds, afraid of bursting apart from the touch alone. And her skin stretched in her grip —

"Any right! Too much! Oh heavens, open the nipples! Open them at once! I'm — too full! — I'm ripping — quick!"

She clambered over the blonde's midriff and sat down hard. Her weight didn't even dent the chain of Mirca's muscles under her buttocks. Her aching boobs found a soft rest on Mirca's own yielding breasts. The blonde's upper body rose as she lifted her head to the strangled, chocolate-colored teats.

Even the touch of Mirca's hot breath against the distended areolae was unbearable. It seemed to the witch that an eternity passed until the blonde's clumsy fingers ripped away the yarn that had dug deeply into the swollen knobs of flesh.

"What are you doing? No! Don't pinch them! Don't hold them shut! Let it out — gaaahh! — Hurry, oh gods, hurry —"

Mirca's huge, moistened lips closed around the first throbbing protrusion, and her fingers released the base of the elongated nipple.

"— oooaaaaahhhhh..."

"Gnmmmph—!" was Mirca's reply. The nipple that only seconds before had resembled the tiny last part of a pinkie stretched and swelled as it soaked up the first barrage of milk.

Yrba exhaled. A shudder ran over her skin. It contracted in a spreading wave of goose bumps and increased the pressure on the spongy, bloated ducts even more. The cumulating torrent, its strength and volume worthy of the best breed of bovines and finally liberated, sprang forward from the nipple, burst out of the dozens of tiny openings and painted the inside of Mirca's mouth white.

The ducts opened all the way, and Yrba's eyes closed. Yes, there it was again, that delicious feeling of venting, of spending herself into the herculean body. Only this time there was so much more to give away. Her mouth curved into a delighted grin and transformed into a gaping O, like she wished her freed nipple's ducts would. Mirca stopped just holding her lips tight around the spewing strawberry and drew her first deep gulp from the brimming breast.

The blonde's fingers let go of the other nipple to better guide the breast she vigorously sucked on, and the freely spraying milk from the unguarded, expanding nub produced a hiss audible even over the loud gulping and smacking sounds of Mirca's greedy feeding. The warm, wasted liquid of Yrba's second breast sprayed around in thin jets, in every random direction that the dozen of tiny pores pointed to as the witch's bloated breast bobbed about. Yrba dug her hands into her matted mane and clenched her thighs around the warm saddle of Mirca's abdomen, jerking her hip back and forth, abandoning herself to the delight of being milked, of fueling that divine body caught between her legs while the faint shower of milk turned both their skins into slippery slopes down which the white rivulets ran. The thirsty blonde sucked stronger, and as Yrba's breasts spent their load, their skin turned soft, her flesh became malleable again, and slipped over Mirca's moist, widening lips and crept into the greedy mouth as the giantess opened her jaws further. The dark chocolate skin of Yrba's areola puckered and disappeared completely inside the warm circle of lips. Mirca's long, pink tongue lashed the nubby, wrinkling surface and excited the ducts further still. Not a single clear thought was left in the witch's mind. She could only hump against that body and tried to cram as much of her breast into Mirca's mouth as she could.

--

Long minutes passed until the flow finally ebbed and Mirca slowed down. She no longer chewed on the whole areolae, but only slurped the aroused teats into her mouth one after the other to draw the rest of the hoarded nectar out. Yrba put her hands on Mirca's milk-covered, slippery shoulders and gently pushed her back down on the mattress.

"That's enough, dear. Don't want to end up all flat and flabby again," she said as she lifted her elongated, relaxedly rounded breasts out of Mirca's hands. The blonde couldn't swallow another drop anyway and had just kept on filling her mouth and then letting the white streams run from her lips before milking the next discharge into her bulging cheeks.

"See? I'm still awake. The last time, I just ran out of air," the witch triumphantly declared. "I knew it wasn't something to do with magic. Hey, if I could hex myself, then I'd make damn sure I'd never miss a single moment of ecstasy to being knocked out. That one thing when you roll your tongue around the nipple and twitch it —," she licked her lips, "that is awesome." She bent forward and planted a big kiss on Mirca's forehead.

Yrba's mind soared in the delights of relief. The regained feeling of lightness coursed through her whole body, even though her boobs still held enough of the ample charge to maintain their usual melon-like, sagging and heavy shape. She stretched her arms and wiggled her body in a shudder of bliss, smiling widely before she ran her forefinger down Mirca's breastbone and over the muscle ribs of the blonde's slightly bloated midriff. "Oh yes, that was totally worth the strain of last night."

Mirca cocked her head and wiped her mouth. "Ah. Right, so what we did now was this 'eggs-per-mentioning' stuff?"

The witch smiled down on her mount and patted Mirca's sweat-and-milk-covered cheek, its skin still rosy and radiating warmth after the long minutes of being covered by the ample, dark cleavage.

"Experimenting. Yes, that's how you learn what works and what doesn't. Don't believe in hearsay. So, what have we learned?"

Mirca looked at her, narrowed her eyes, pouted her lips and cocked her head the other way.

"Uh, that you're, like, really tasty? That you — something about you being very stretchy in your soft parts? That experimenting makes your nipples huge and long, like dark brown cow teats?"

"No. We learned that you can't suck the strength from m—"

Yrba's eyes widened as Mirca's words sunk in. "—come again?!" she gasped.

She stared down on her breasts, grabbed one and lifted it to get a good look at her nipples. The witch exhaled with a grunt. Her body's unusual properties had gotten the better of her again, big time. All was well with the nipples' skin and its almost black tone and the wrinkly, milk-covered surface. Tiny white drops still emerged from the many ducts. So far, so good. But thanks to Mirca's eager sucking and constant tongueplay, their length was now beyond human and stretched well into bovine territory. They bobbed about like finger-sized sausages.

The witch gnawed on her lip. Damned stretchiness. Thank goodness they'll shrink back over time, she consoled herself. Then another thought hit her, and she slapped her palm to her forehead and rolled her eyes.

"Oh great! Once Red's gonna see this, she'll cackle and tease me for weeks now—

"—Uunnnhhh!" she moaned suddenly as Mirca reached up and gently squeezed the resilient, juicy meat between thumb and forefinger. Yrba's hips started to rock again.

"Well, I think they're cute!" declared her oversized mount.

--

To Be Continued.