Yrba's Travels Pt. 07

More! Yes! Iwant to be full!

No one with the right kind of eyes was around to see how sparkling white whirls rushed in and disappeared into the hungry vortex between her legs. Heat andvolumepumped into her breasts, worming straight through her from her burning womb. More magic streamed right from the ground that her flattened mams rested on and filled them further. She rode her own breasts as they swelled and rounded. Something dropped from her back, something she barely noticed. There was some noise, too. It didn't matter either. All that mattered was holding on to this sensation of sheer, unadulteratedgrowth, and holding on to the rumbling bags of groaning, squeaking skin lifting her higher.

~

Yrba crawled on hands and knees through the doorframe of the toppled cart. The door hung unhinged. She pulled herself along until her body slid over the tipping point. Screaming in pain, she tumbled down the slanted door and into the grass.

She curled up and held her bruised ankle. Moments later, after she wised up, her trembling fingers clutched her thigh instead. Blood leaked through her grip.

"Heavens and all the fuckin' gods, you really did it this time, Mirc—aaaarrgh," she growled through clenched teeth as she pulled tight the tourniquet that she improvised from a strip of her skirt and a branch.

Yrba pushed herself up to her elbows.

"Mirca?!"

From the downhill, far end of the clearing came the rhythmic sounds of splintering trees and low, liquid rumbling. Yrba dragged herself around the cart blocking her view.

~

"Uuuunngh — Mmmmhh — Unnngh — Hwwwwoooaaah —"

The two orbs of Mirca's boobs, each more than a dozen yards high now, surged against the edge of the forest, with the blonde's twitching and jerking body wedged in between and connecting them. Their momentum from the tumble down the slope was caught by the springy conifers that tickled and stimulated the aroused, Brobdingnagian breasts with their myriad of tiny needles as they bounced back the pair of balls only to have gravity roll the white avalanche back into the wall of wood. Each squeeze of tit-fucking the forest edge sent bolts of milk arching from the man-sized, erect nipples.

Yrba rolled on her back to get her hands free for her incantation's gestures and put her head in her neck, watching the mind-blowing scene upside-down and blinking into the rising sun that highlighted Mirca's absurd contours in the last wisps of morning mist.

"Now this'll get you empty fast and ugly," she snarled, reaching up into the clouds of ethereal sparkles that hovered over her head. White glow coated her fingers like shiny wetness as she put her hands together, forming a double-layer ring with her thumbs and forefingers, spreading her other digits like cupping something huge,round, and invisible.

"Huuuuuuuuunnnnn—"

The witch inhaled, with her jaw slack and her mouth a huge, gaping O, until her spine arched upwards and her ribs ached and her whole body trembled. Yrba brought her hands to her face.

Her lips, pouting and fleshy, touched her ring of fingers in a gentle kiss. Down the slope, Mirca gasped in surprise. The taste of milk, sweet and delicious, suddenly lingered on Yrba's tongue.

"Mmffffffffffff—"

Yrba blew, long and hard, until her ears rang and flashes danced in front of her eyes. Groaning and squeaking drowned out Mirca's moans, and then the blonde's desperate shriek of sudden realization rose above the unearthly noises. A round and rising shadow, growing marginally less dense as it spread bigger, blotted out the warming sun rays on the forest.

"Aiieeeeeee—"

Squeeeerrrreeeeaaaaa—

Yrba slumped back into the dewy grass, panting heavily. Malleable resistance out of thin air forced her hands apart, yet she struggled and squeezed, choking and wrestling the invisible sphere. The vague contours of the shadow twisted and bent as the cacophony of rumbling and sloshing and yelping united into one hellish din.

She dug her claw-curved fingers into the ethereal resistance, twisting her hands against each other, digging her fingernails into the invisible mass —

Ooooouurrrbbbb—creeeeaaaak—

— And clapped her palms together.

Mirca's scream was drowned out by the screeching of over-stretched rubber that ended with a deafeningbang. Needles and leaves showered from the trees as the shockwave rushed through the forest.

~

Mirca probed cautiously her breast's supple, soft shapes as she stooped crestfallen and dripping head to toe with milk by her mentor's side. From the corner of her eyes, she cast terrified glances at the witch.

"What?" snapped Yrba back at her while she finished her leg's bandage. "I made sure you felt no pain!"

"Still — they — theyexploded! All those gobs of flesh, and milk everywhere, and — I — I'm sorry, I'm not complaining, but I got so scared, and I fell down right into that pile, and then all the stuff that you blew sky high came raining back down on me and I was all covered in — in —yuck —"

"Ohshutup!"

The witch lowered her pulled-up, soiled skirt, put her hands to her hips, sighed and shook her head wearily as she eyed the warped caravan. "Well, this'll take some time to fix."

Mirca wrung her hands.

"I'm so s—sorry!" she stuttered, raising her hands pleadingly to Yrba's back. "I didn't mean it, I though I could — but — I only wanted to — and then — I —"

The witch's knuckles showed brightly through the skin of her clenched fists. After a few moments, she exhaled audibly and hobbled towards the cart, dragging her bandaged leg.

"Let me help you, I can—," Mirca began.

"Don't you think you'vehelpedme enough for a day?" Yrba hissed through gritted teeth. Mirca slumped to her knees, buried her face in her hands and started to snivel.

"I'm such an oaf! Everything I touch, I break it! I can't get anything right!" Her voice climbed to incomprehensible wails and sobs.

Yrba didn't turn her head as she barked, "Done feeling sorry for yourself? You want to do something useful for a change? Then stop crying over spilled milk and put the new wheel in place so we can righten up the cart again!"

"You hate me now!" wailed Mirca, throwing herself on the ground and sobbing uncontrollably.

Yrba sighed and turned around. She slumped down heavily beside the trembling figure and stroked the concave line of Mirca's waist and the broad back with the shaking shoulders.

"Shhh, no, no, I don't hate you, darling, I never could. It's just a lot of damage, and I'm aching and upset. This could've ended so badly, I dare not think about it. Mirca, don't put yourself in harm's way like that. I couldn't stand losing you."

She caressed her pupil's cheek and gently kissed the salty tears away.

"Now get up again, sweetie. I need you, now more than ever."

~

Chapter 33: Winter's Hazy Shades

~

Winter was a gentle time for the couple. When finally the blizzards began in earnest and the roads became impassable and disappeared under drifting snow, they drove the cart in between a patch of trees and set up camp for the next weeks. Two days of chopping wood and hauling timber turned the box on wheels into the larder of a veritable two-room blockhouse complete with a small stable for the horse. All the while, Mirca's cornucopian qualities made sure that they were never in danger of starving, even though the taste of milk grew a bit old during the nastiest week of winter when the drifting snow piled almost to the roof. The blonde had enough time to marvel at — and memorize, with Yrba's incessant reminders — the dozens of hidden stashes in the cart and their various contents.

Yrba's wounds healed, albeit slowly. She still limped on her daily walk to the nearby brook and back, but she never again complained or held it against Mirca.

~

"Yrbaaaa!I'm back with the firewood! Guess what I brought along!"

The sounds of a heavy sled over fresh snow neared the hut. The witch inside smiled wearily as she hollered her answer.

"Anotherwolf pelt?"

"Aw!Yrba! That's not fair! And it's not my fault! I don't know why they always come for me! It's as if they don't learn!"

"You don't give them much of a chance to learn, do you? Oh well, do we have any things we didn't do ten times yet — how about we tailor a nice pair of boots from that one?"

~

For almost a month, the days passed without much change, except that the notches marking Mirca's height crept incessantly higher on the wall. Many of the long dark nights were filled with moans and groans as the odd couple gave in to their passion, and many more just saw two silent shapes spooning peacefully against each other, or Yrba falling asleep in her ever-growing giantess' loving embrace as Mirca's nurturing teat slowly slipped from the witch's moist, sated lips.

The worst of winter was over, and the days started to grow longer. Mirca had caught up on much of the education that the years of servitude had denied her. Yrba was more than just a little pleased, though at times she had been at her wit's end. And she was more than relieved when Mirca's growth finally tapered off at seven feet. Standing in front of her, the witch felt almost dwarf-like compared to the now one-and-a-half foot taller giantess. With her heavy, teardrop-shaped breasts, each much larger than Yrba's head but still quite reasonable for Mirca's herculean build, her wide hips with the muscular legs and the round but taut ass, her body's hard edges now smoothed by a winter of ample feeding, she was female domination incarnate.

As long as she didn't open her mouth. Yrba knew that there was still much work in store for her.

~

Steam billowed in the air. The two unlike shadows huddled on the fur rugs near the crackling oven. Mirca's nervous fingers twisted the rough bristles of the wolf pelt under her into tiny curls.

"Yrba, I'm so sorry I ate the last of the bread, but — I'm always so hungry ever since I grew. You're not angry? At the castle, in the winter, when there was no more bread left, it meant times werereallybad."

Yrba smiled and stroked Mirca's back, delighting in the sharp contrast of her chocolate-colored fingers on her plaything's skin of just a hint of copper. "It's not bad, dear. With you around, it canneverbe truly bad."

"Gee, you're so sweet!"

The witch planted a sloppy kiss on the giantess' shoulder.

"No, sugar pumpkins,you'resweet. The sun has set. Isn't it high time for you?" Her fingers wandered over the heavy, taut melon shapes of Mirca's breasts. "Oh yes it is. Get on your hands and knees now and let's harvest a little of that sweetness."

Mirca sighed happily and arched her back, lifting her dangling udders from the rug. "Moo," she whispered in Yrba's ear and snapped playfully at her earlobe as the witch's fingertips probed the engorged nipples. Just a little pinch with thumb and forefinger, and Yrba's brown fingertips were coated in slippery, fatty, white liquid.

"Someone's quite full of it, huh?" The gypsy put a bowl under the swollen melons, coated her hands with the first spurts and then ran her glistening, slippery fingers in slow, deft strokes from the massive roots over the thick bulge to the swollen, protruding areolae. The smell of milk filled the warm air, and as the bowl filled, the hissing and bubbling of the many thin jets grew louder.

"Yes, that's what my sweet heifer likes, doesn't she?"

"Moo—oouurr! Teeheehee,oh don't tickle me like that, Yrba!Mmmh. It's letting down by itself now, just keep it aimed at —unh!Oh my, oh Yrba, yes, that's pretty good there, use more fingers, there's room to spare, that's —"

Shluuurp. Squelch.

"UnghYrba!Ooooh!Deeper!"

Squelch. Squelch. Squelch.

Mirca stretched her arms and lowered her shoulders until her heavy breasts dipped into the rapidly filling milk bowls. She raised her hip as high as she could while still kneeling. Yrba leaned in and pushed her hand deeper into the steaming envelope.

"Hhhuuungh! Oh Yrba! Oh yes! Yes! MOOOO!"

~

Chapter 34: An Unexpected Guest

~

Mirca sat on the floor with her back against the wall. The round, soft orbs of her heavy, shapely breasts hung from the gap of her wolfskin jacket, and the fur tickled their undersides in most delightful ways. She patted down her sweaty face and cleavage with a wet towel while she caught her breath. Turning her head to Yrba, who poured a sloshing bucket into a bigger barrel, she sighed happily.

"Oh dear, that was great! I felt pretty taut and full the whole day, but —so much milk!It just kept coming and coming like a fountain, I really don't know where I take it from —"

She raised her head. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Wolves, again!"

Yrba laughed. "Well, youcouldleave them alone for a change. You even gotunderwearmade from fur now, Mirca, and we've gotstacksof pelts left. Why, it's getting hard to recognize you for yourself when you put on all your winter clothes."

And then, far off in the distance, a single scream, ahumanscream. Mirca jumped to her feet and reached for her coat, the sword and the axe. The whole cabin shook as she threw her weight against the door and effortlessly pushed it open against the drift of snow that had piled outside.

"Wait —Mirca!"

Yrba's splayed fingers only aimed for an empty doorframe clattering in the gusts that blew a few snowflakes inside. Muttering and cursing, the witch hobbled to the door, pulled it shut and locked it before she slumped down on a small barrel and clutched the sole remaining axe tight.

"Stupidstupidhothead! What do you think you're doing? I hope you're not about to save a gang of bandits!"

She glanced at the stack of pelts in the corner.

Or bring inmoreof those wretched wolves. Gods, how I hate the taste of their meat.

~

The blanket rent in the gray beast's maw. The lone traveller threw himself around and made for the next tree. Sharp teeth snapped at his clothes as he pulled himself up to vague safety with his last strength. Clinging to the icy bark, he caught his breath. And as he calmed down, the pain from his exhausted muscles and his many wounds returned, together with the biting cold of the wind that crept in through the tears and holes in his garments. He looked around. No other suitable trees as far as his eyes could pierce the fog and snowfall, and the branches on this one wouldn't hold his weight as soon as he lost his grip on the trunk.

That's it. They just need to wait for me to fall into their maws like a frozen fruit. Oh Caroline, sorry, but that single night with you wasn't worth this nightmare.

The wolves suddenly turned around and fell quiet. His gaze followed their hungry stares. A hulking silhouette neared with heavy footfall through the driving snow, and he clutched the tree tighter.

Oh gods, now there's a bear, too! He'll climb up to me with no effort at all!

Snarling and growling, the wolves formed a circle around the huge, mute figure that raised its forelegs over its head. The traveller on the tree turned his head to the rough bark and kept his eyes shut as howls and snarls rose from below.

He jerked up as he heard a metallic, long-drawn sound from ahumantool. And then came the swishes of a fast-moving blade, andthenhowls and yelps started and soon stopped again. He dared to turn his head and stared down at a scene of carnage. The stranger stood in a blood-stained circle of snow, a few wolves laid dead at his feet, and the rest of the pack disappeared between the trees. The traveller sighed with relief and began to climb down.

He fell the last few feet and struggled upright, swaying with weakness. The bear-like shadow walked up and towered mutely over him. Long, bright hair fluttered in the strong gusts of wind and snow. He narrowed his eyes and stuttered, "Y—you're a Northsman mercenary, right? C—can you understand me? I—I'll pay good money if you — you —"

The stranger crouched, and his huge sword flashed towards the traveller. It cut right through the rough, thick blanket without slowing down. Something heavy and shrouded in sour stench hit the traveler's back at the same time and threw him to the ground.

~

The wooden door bent under heavy kicks. "Yrba! Open! Come on, hurry, open the door!"

Mirca barged into the room, fell to her knees and dropped a blood-covered bundle to the floor. The flickering light of the fireplace revealed two arms, two legs and a head, all still roughly in their usual place. Colorful rags showed through a torn, snow-covered and soiled blanket with many tears and a single, long gash. The figure, though unconscious, still clutched a wooden instrument to its chest.

The blonde shook the snow from her hair and shoulders. "I speared a wolf right through under his arm as it leaped on him! Still knocked him out. Don't know how long he was holding on to that tree out there."

Yrba looked at the mangled body at her feet and sighed as she picked up two of her last four remaining vials of thetincture.

"He seems salvageable. I guess that'll be another healing I won't get paid for," she snarled and bowed down. Grabbing his jaw, she made the man's lips pout between her thumb and forefinger and emptied one after the other vial into his mouth.

"Hot water, the towels. Mirca, don't just stand and stare, hurry!" Yrba peeled down the stranger's clothes and sucked in air through her clenched teeth when she saw the many wounds. "That's not good. My juice is just too old." Her eyes measured up the empty air that, to her, was full of tiny dust bunnies made of light. Holding the seams of one blood-spouting wound together, she guided a few of them into the torn skin. The faint glow oftinctureon his body faded as the lacerated edges sewed themselves shut. Yrba held her hand out sideways and opened and closed her fingers. "Sponge. —Sponge!" The witch turned her head. "Mirca?Mirca!Hey! Get busy!"

The hulking girl jumped as she snapped out of her empty-eyed stare. "Y—yes, I'm —"

"Hurry!"

~

The last of the glow disappeared, and the healing stopped, or at least it slowed down to its sluggish, natural speed measured in days and not seconds. What remained untreated were a handful of flat wounds that wouldn't kill the stranger outright.

"How we're going to bleach all those soiled towels now?" Yrba sighed, looking at the crimson pile of wrinkled cloth as she washed her hands.

"Yrba! Look, I think he's coming to!"

"Well, that was fast. Let's wait with the introductions, sweetie, until we know who he is. Don't say a word until I tell you to, 'kay? Might be a fugitive bandit or a crazed hermit." She leaned down over the stranger's head and pulled at one of his eyelids.

His eyeball swiveled until he saw the witch's face. He screamed. Yrba jerked back.

"The underworld! Black evil demon! I didn't do nothing wrong! Let me g—" He coughed and gasped for air, and then his unsteady gaze found Mirca's face.

"You! Oh, you're an angel! Such a sweet innocent angel! Save me from this creature!" he babbled, before he drifted off into unconsciousness again.

"Great," muttered Yrba, "he's obviously still delirious."

~

"Mirca? Hey! What's the matter?"

The blonde jerked again. "Huh?"

Yrba followed her gaze and frowned. "Will you stop staring at his crotch?"

Mirca blushed. "Uh—I, so, I just never — that's what all naked men look like? It's just — his whole body's so, uh,bland, and his, heh, he'stinythere, and Red's girls always joked aboutsausagesand how big ... uh..."