Yrba's Travels Pt. 04

Yrba patted on the smaller woman's hand and smiled wearily down on her.

"Maybe some other day, Li. I'm not in the mood right now. A little too uptight below, y'know?"

"Li know how fix..."

--

Chapter 21: Birds Of A Feather

--

"Hey Mirca, you've ever tried a feather?"

The blonde looked up from the rag and brush she scrubbed the floor with, and turned her head to look over her shoulder. Sylvia leaned in her room's doorway and stared at her, mesmerized by the huge, round rear that Mirca pushed out and wiggled about so prominently while she cowered on hands and knees and scrubbed.

Mirca frowned up to her and lifted the rag. "A feather instead of this? For the floor? I know about those cute little dusters for vases, they got feathers, but—"

"Not the floor, silly! Here, let me show you—uh, where is that damn thing—" Sylvia fished frantically for something in her garment's neckline while she bent down and folded back the skirt over Mirca's rear. The blonde shuddered, but didn't move. Her fleshy pussy lips squeezed out between her thighs. Sylvia leant on the taut buttocks, her one hand cupping Mirca's sizable cheek.

Her other returned from the uncharted valley between her round breasts. "—there we have it! Now let's take a closer whiff at that nice big crotch you have, girl."

Mirca grimaced and griped, "Uh, you're not going to tell me to bathe again, are you? I mean, it's nice, but we've done it each day, and twice yesterday. My skin will get all wrinkl—yiiiii!"

Something light and, well, feathery touched her labia. She jerked and giggled.

"Tehehe! Oooooh, yes, that's funny! Do that agai—yiiiii! Mmmh!"

She started to moan. Her chest moved up and down with every deep breath as she rasped:

"Yes, there—uh, sorry, I get all drippy if you do it along the crack. And up there at the kno—ooh! Hwoah! Oh, it tickles like mad now! It's so nice that we can talk about all that so openly. I'd never have dared to tell anyone, back in the castle."

Sylvia ran the feather back through the narrow ravine and raised her eyebrows when it emerged pulling a long filament of viscous juice along.

"My, you're a soaker! Haven't seen anyone before who would get so moist so quickly!"

"Is—is that good or bad?"

The stocky girl smiled. "I guess we'll have to go to my room to find out."

She lifted her weight off the blonde's hip and straightened up. Mirca struggled to her feet with the brush and rag still in hands and wiped the sweat from her brow with her lower arm while she looked down on Sylvia.

"My, all of you girls, you're paying a ton of atti—enti—uh, no, att—enti—ton to me. Why? Do I really deserve that?"

Sylvia's smile broadened. "Maybe you're someone special." She ran her fingers over the loose cloth wrapped around the blonde's shoulders and lifted one of Mirca's breasts with both hands. "I mean, most women don't refill and change shape like you do, dear. My, how heavy are they today? Do you need another milking? I'd help you in a heartbeat."

"I don't know." Mirca brushed the veils around her chest aside and hefted her assets by the nipples. She shook the stretched teats and watched the quiver and bobbing of her breasts die down. "No, they're still soft enough. They're just a bit more stretchy than usual today. Not so horn-like, more like round dumplings. What would you call that shape? Here, try again now and tell me." She pushed her chest forward and dropped the warm load back into Syliva's trembling hands before she put her own palms under them and guided the woman's fingers. "See? All soft and squishy-like. Berry and Li did weigh them yesterday, too, or something, when I got milk-round again. They drank quite a lot, and they were moaning and giggling so loud, I didn't get all that they talked about. Oh, they really like to teach me this new kind of sexing and stuff, and I'm learning so much about it each day. Why, just yesterday, Jean said she knew nobody else who could make her faint just by licking her all the way up her insides." She noticed the reddening of Sylvia's face, and had nothing but honest concern in her voice when she said, "Uh, my breasts are not too heavy for you, are they? You're panting."

"You're right," gulped the raven-haired girl. She began rubbing her brawny thighs against each other under her skirt. "I think I need a little help. Big. Mmmmh. Big help. I mean. Uh. Fast! Charlene!"

--

"Okay, Mirca. You and us, we'll play a little game."

Sylvia smirked down on her while she stepped out of her curled-up skirt, picked it up, folded her clothes and piled them away. Mirca's hulking body rested on its back on the floor in Sylvia's room, arms and legs spread-eagled.

Sylvia put her hands to her sturdy hips. "These are the rules: I'll work your breasts, and Charley will tickle you with the feather. If you move or make a noise, you lose. So let's see how long you can hold out without saying a word, giggling, squirming or moaning."

"What a weird game, it's more like you —"

She fell silent, then a slow grin spread over her face. She pointed up at the two wenches.

"Oooh, I know, I know now! It's kinda like in the tub, only without the water! You're horny! And this is one of those playful sex things, right? Wow, I think I'm getting the hang of noticing it. Well, I guess I owe you for hiding me. All right, it's on! Hah!" A sparkle shone in the huge blonde's eyes. "Tickling and stroking? You've got no idea what I had to go through at the palace. Never thought it'd be good for anything, but now this here is going to be child's play. Do your worst, girls. My lips are sealed! Let's see who's about to get an ey-duh-cayshin' in stah-mee-nah!"

Charlene finished slathering oil on her front and lowered herself sixty-nine on Mirca's warm, strong body. She slid herself into position and grinned.

"Your lips are sealed? Those I can see from here are wide o—ooh! Oooooh! Oh goooods!" Her head twitched sideways, like caught in a spasm, and her wide eyes gazed into a far-off distance. A thin trickle of saliva ran from the corner of her gaping mouth.

"Mirca!" chided Sylvia. "You're supposed to lay still for as long as you can!"

"Fommy! Fee maff —"

Slurp.

"—She was all in my face, and I thought, you know, when you do that, you want me to — hold it, there's another drop. My, once she starts, I can lick all I want, she just doesn't stop dripping. Just like the rest of you."

Her strong fingers grabbed Charlene's buttocks and pulled them apart. The labia gaped open. More juice seeped from the dark depths of the pink canal and wetted the bronze-skinned girl's black curls. She moaned delightedly in the deft grip that laid bare her deepest depths.

"See? See?!" Mirca complained, easily lifting Charlene's hip to show it to Sylvia. The raven-hair girl stared in dumbfounded rapture. Of course Red's women shared their little tricks and secrets, and often enough did they demonstrate quite aptly to each other where and how to put a tongue or a finger — or several — to good use. Sylvia gulped audibly. Charlene never before looked so wide, and so filled up to the hilt with the sticky secretions of her lust. The gate into her womb contracted in nervous pulses like a munching, pouting mouth, each time squeezing out a spoonful of lubricating ooze.

"It's not my fault," continued Mirca. "I really do try and hurry up, but she just doesn't stop getting wet again and again. Oh well, gimme another second, she'll have to dry up eventually, right? I'll just — uh, I once drank from Yrba like this — I just need to —"

She changed her grip and closed her paws around Charlene's narrow waist, lifting the girl's hip to her lips like a goblet. Sylvia stared in awe as Mirca's tongue dove back into the moist depths, spreading the narrow canal around its muscular fullness. Mirca cocked her head and put her lips over the whole crotch. Her cheeks fell in as she merrily sucked away.

Shluuurgh. Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.

"Oooaaahh! Sy—Sylvia, I — hrrnnngh! — I say let it slide this –– ooaaahh! — once." Charlene moaned, clutching Mirca's head between her thighs, while her oiled body was pushed up and down by Mirca's deft grip on her waist. "Where does it — can't be — now she's up my — oh yes! Oh YES! Oh goooOOOO—" Her voice descended into mindless panting, and her hands cramped around Mirca's thighs as she closed her eyes and lost herself into the blonde's maw.

Sylvia sighed, with a hint of envy in her voice. "Okay, just this once. And Charlene — you've lost the first two rounds!" She slapped the girl's quivering buttocks. Charlene uttered a protesting yelp, and even that short sound was drenched with the afterglow of highest pleasures.

Mirca's tongue left her with a wet squelch. Charlene sagged down on the blonde's glowing body. She jerked one more time as Mirca cupped her crotch in her palm and started to rub her.

"What are you doing now?"

"Uh, just rubbing away the wet—"

"Stop it—!" Charlene moaned, "You keep on doing this, I'll never stop getting wet again!"

"Oh, sorry then," shrugged Mirca. The brunette resting in 69 on her felt the movement of the blonde's shoulders in a shudder all over her.

You're so strong. Gods, you're such an animal. Oh, I never want to climb down from you ever again.

--

"Huh, Mirca? How's it now? Not so bigmouthed after all, eh?" Sylvia's fingers tickled around the swollen, erect nipples on the blonde's huge breasts before she bowed down and started to nibble the rough strawberries. The soft mounds hung out, squeezed sideways by Charlene's narrow waist. Sweat ran down Mirca's temples. Right before her mouth bucked the dripping morass of the pointy-breasted girl, soft, squishy and oh so alluring to her tongue. Yet the blonde remained mute and motionless, her hands clenched into fists. Only the quiver of her arms and legs revealed her inner tension.

That's hard! Oh heavens, how can laying still be that hard! Charlene's dripping! And when they drip, they all want me to — but I mustn't! And the tickle — I can hardly — I'm bursting! I need to do something — no! Not a word! Not a twitch!

"Look here, I think our big girl's going to blow soon!" Charlene giggled and drew a long, sagging filament of thick slime from Mirca's crotch. She ran the soaked feather over the swollen, throbbing clit again in a seesaw pattern. "She sure can take a lot, but she can't take it forever, huh?" Charley slid further up, running her bush over Mirca's face.

"Now you want to dive right into me again, don't you? You're itching all over, that tickle in your body, the hunger, the thirst, oh, how you want to eat up my little honeypot, eh? You want to empty it with that tongue, licking round and round, stretching into me up to the hilt, huh? But you can't because then you'd lose." She shuddered as her breasts' hard nipples slipped from bump to bump over Mirca's abs.

"Shut up! I'm about to cum just from listening to you!" moaned Sylvia, kneading the left breast and sliding her hands round and round on the melon-sized orb. "Right, time to end this! Mirca, you'll not be able to ignore this!" She pouted her trembling lips and bent down on the nipple. And as her eyes closed, she opened her lips and sucked the strawberry deep into her mouth, nibbling at the flesh, drawing on the aroused bump with all her force. Sylvia curved her fingers into claws, and her long fingernails scraped just the faintest bit round and round over Mirca's breasts, the motion being half-tickle, half-scratch and all-titillating.

She's right! I can't — the tickle! It's spreading all over my skin now! I'm burning up! Too much — need to scratch — need to do — something —

"You win!" she howled. Mirca grabbed Sylvia's head with one hand and forced it down on her breast. A gush of milk burst from her nipple and filled the smaller girl's cheeks to their limit.

Her other hand slapped down on Charlene's buttocks. Mirca's splayed fingers, two on each of Charlene's cheeks, the middle one straight down the crack, forced the girl's muff right on top of her lips, and she shot her tongue all the way up the dripping snatch. Charlene's eyes almost popped from her skull, both by surprise and the sudden feeling of enchanting fullness. The first of a chain of building orgasms hit her right then and there. Her body convulsed, again and again. The dripping depths of her crammed vagina oozed slick lubricant that only fueled Mirca's excitement. The tongue slapped and wriggled relentlessly, beating the mucous juice into white foam that squeezed out through the narrow gap between Charlene's stretched labia and the tentacle that roamed the abyss of her womb.

The strange taste of Charlene's whipped cream didn't help a thing against the other fullness building inside of Mirca. If it did anything at all, it only served to make the huge woman's urge rise faster with each passing moment.

Too much! Too much pressure! Can't hold — must let out — need — release!

Mirca let go of whatever there was inside her to let go of. She lost herself in the ecstasy of her expanding breasts, in the rising pressure that stretched her boobs' skin from within. She gave herself up to her billowing orbs filling the room, to the mounting warmth as not only her breasts' flesh ballooned out but a rush of manifesting milk filled them up as well.

Something grew all around Charlene. In her orgasm's haze, she just flailed helplessy as she sank into a swelling rift, wedging in deeper until her arms and her whole body were engulfed from the left and right and top and bottom and front and back by soft, hot walls that held her firmly in place, impaled on a tongue that still sucked any clear thought out of her mind.

Sylvia barely managed to free her lips from the lemon of nubby skin that spewed sweet milk on and on. Mirca's hand was pulled from the back of the girl's head as the breast she desperately clung to catapulted her up on its swelling, rumbling mass. She coughed and spat, but the jets aimed at her face grew stronger and stronger. Moments later, her back brushed against the ceiling, and she was caught between the wood and plaster and the rumbling, distending skin while the nipple, bloated to cantaloupe size, relentlessy drenched her face as it grew bigger still.

--

The floor groaned under the insane weight. In the kitchen below, Yrba and Red lowered their knives and put down the vegetables they just moments before had made raunchy comments about. Their eyes turned to the ceiling. Dust began to curl down from the widening gaps between the beams.

"Shit—!" Yrba was halfway to the door before she even finished the single syllable, and by the time Red was at the door, the witch already darted around the stairway's turn. She reached for the doorknob, and it was ripped from her hand as the door spun open and a white, soft wall of flesh with a barely visible cleft in the middle burgeoned out of the doorframe.

"Hold on, I'm on it!" Yrba hollered. Her fingers frantically scribbled conjuring sigils into the air. Never a good idea to do it in a hurry, she snarled in her mind as stray discharges bit painfully into her fingertips. Flaring arcs and whips of lightning scraped over her arms.

"Hurry! Help me! Can't breathe! Her boobs — squeezing me — to death!" wailed Charlene, her voice severely muffled, from somewhere inside the cleavage. Sylvia produced just a half-drowned gargle while she fought the onslaught of milk which the nipple in her face spewed so copiously. She was helplessly pinned to the ceiling by the bloated orbs that filled the room and bulged out the door.

Yrba threw her arms at the pulsating wall.

"Discarricare! Galactorrhea gigans!"

The floor shook under the throbbing breasts, but then, just for a single heartbeat's length, there was a moment of utmost silence before a torrent of milk spewed out between the receding skin and the door frame. In the blink of an eye, the floor turned into a riverbed filled with slippery, whirling white foam. Two flailing legs slipped slowly from the man-sized cleavage. Wrinkles formed in the white wall as Charlene's round buttocks were forced through the tight seal, then came another delay as the jammed masses of Mirca's milk-flesh closed again around the tanned girl's narrow waist. Another rumble, more milk poured from the gap, and then Charlene was squeezed out of the widening gap between Mirca's breasts and stumbled right into the witch, who lost her footing. Clinging to each other, they tumbled down over the waterfall that the stairs had turned into. At the foot of the staircase, the growing avalanche picked up Red and the three others as they stared breathlessly at the approaching tide. Entangled in each others limbs, they tumbled into the garden amidst the white flood.

--

Yrba wiped the milk from her face and sighed, struggling to her feet with Mirca's help. The blonde's now empty, shrunken and flabby breasts still hung to her ankles like soaked clothes. Yrba straightened until searing pain raced down her spin. Sucking in air with a whistling noise, she stooped again with her hands on her knees. The witch's body ached all over from the bumpy ride down the stairs. After the sting turned into numb ache and she caught her breath, she gesticulated vaguely in Mirca's direction as she turned to Red and the girls, themselves a sorry sight of dripping garments and clogged hair, too.

"Listen, I better camp outside the town with our little milk bomb here, okay? It's too risky, staying with you. See, it shouldn't even have been possible, that burst right now. But as long as Mirca still has these unpredictable episodes, I just need to be late once, and —"

She didn't finish the sentence. The others, still drenched head to toes, already nodded in grave agreement. Mirca stared down on the floor, her face and posture a picture of misery. "But I'm not doing it on purpose," she muttered and kneaded her fingers. "They were the ones who started with the feathers and stuff and said I'd lose if I said anything. I was just busy scrubbing the floor when—"

"Oh silly, we know that." Yrba smiled at her, straightened and slid her fingers under Mirca's chin to lift the blonde's head and then patted her cheek with a squelch. "And I'll teach you how to rein that in. But we can't do that here. Let's wrap you up now." She made another gesture over Mirca's breasts and then sucked at the round curl of her thumb and forefinger.

The blonde sank to her knees, her face a contorted mask of sudden ecstasy. Something like fingers, hundreds and hundreds of gentle and curious fingers, stroked and slipped over her breasts, lifting and tugging and pushing and prodding on them, tugging the excess skin and flesh back into its shape like a magician slowly tugs a sheet into the palm of his hand.

The others gazed in mute surprise at the sight of Mirca's fleshy skin bags curling and rolling themselves back up into the heavy, jiggly melons they knew. Yrba inspected her handiwork shortly and then turned around, while Mirca still moaned and panted little words like good and ooh and more and yes.

"Red, I need to ask you another huge favor. I don't want to be a burden on you, but we can't make it over the winter out there alone. I — I hope within a few weeks, she'll be able to keep those malaises at bay. If so, then can we—"

Red slapped her hard on the cheek. The blow was only somewhat softened by the slick ooze that drew long filaments as it flew from her fingers. Yrba's head swung about, and she barely managed to stay upright on the slippery ground. Little white drops rained from her flying hair.