Yrba's Travels Pt. 09

Yrba's Travels, Pt.9 — The Living Cauldron

by

Paul Gerard (a pen name)

~

Part 9 of a 12-part tale, laced heavily with lesbian encounters and strange transformations.

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A word of warning, before you even start reading: A lot of what happens in this story focuses on the rather weird fetish of Breast Expansion (BE) -- from A to D, and occasionally up to and ultimately beyond the size depicted in Woody Allen's "Giant Breast" skit in "Everything you always wanted to know about sex" (the 1972 movie). If you thought that was hilarious, or unsettlingly arousing, you're more than welcome to continue reading. Of course this tale has action, tension and fighting (in short, "conventional" storytelling), too.

However, if you are put off by the sheer offbeat weird impossible flight of fancy that is BE, you probably shouldn't bother with this tale.

Thank you.

~

Altaerna — a world, where the laws of reality may become mere guidelines at any given time, where magic and machinery are intertwined, where all those things creeping in the shadows of fantasy may step forward onto the mind's stage.

The time of this story is similar to the 12th century of planet Earth.

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Proof-reading: Yeah, yeah. Once again, I couldn't be bothered to pester a proof-reader. I read it over, quite a few times. Might still have missed some glitches. No hablo ingles as mother tongue. So sue me. ;)

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What happened so far:

Part 1 — Jailbreak:

Jailed in neighboring cells, two very different women are waiting for their execution: Yrba, the curvy chocolate-skinned raven-haired traveling gypsy witch, and Mirca, the towering muscled flat-chested blond servant girl. In a last desperate bid for freedom, Yrba feeds Mirca a whole gallon of enhancement potion and uses her swelling body to break down their cell's walls. And thanks to Yrba's prowess with magic, Mirca becomes mobile again. While they sneak through the nightly town, Mirca gets even with the man whose wrongful accusations sent her to death row by wrecking his warehouse with her rapidly growing breasts.

Part 2 — Under Soiled Doves' Wings:

The witch and her new companion can't make it out of town. Lucky for them, foxy copper-haired Red, an old friend of the witch, runs the town's brothel, and they manage to hide there from the guards searching the houses. An unexpected growth spurt in the confined hideaway ends with Mirca getting stuck and Yrba out cold. Over the course of the next few days, they recover and get acquainted with the girls. Mirca gets into a quarrel with Berry, Red's mistrusting bouncer, and becomes the focus of eastern beauty Li's fantasies. A dinner and a surprise confession lead to another eruption of Mirca's unstable body.

Part 3 — Tubs, Sponges and Soaking:

It's an all-girl event as Red's women climb over each other while they polish and shine Mirca's body in the brothel's huge bathtub, sudden milk burst included. The night brings a solemn peek into Mirca's troubled past, and the next day sees Yrba and Red desperately trying to salvage the last few drops of growth portion left in the witch's womb. Mirca embarks on a journey of discovery across Yrba's body, only to wear her mistress out to the brink of collapse. Yrba lets her curiosity get the better of her, prepares herself to repeat the experience, and in the process we found that her body has quite a few quirks of its own.

Part 4 — Altars and Virgins:

Li, Red's brothel's exotic eastern plaything, tries to teach Mirca the basics of fighting. However, their very own idea of 'way of the fist' ends up waking the metal goddess of the derelict temple they chose as their training ground. As the goddess' ephemeral gift for their 'sacrifice of virginity' fades (or rather, shrinks back), so does their memory of the weird afternoon... Back in the brothel, Sylvia and Charlene coax Mirca into a game of 'how much can you take?' that ends with a milk-swept stairway, a few bruises and scratches and Yrba and Mirca moving out into the forest to 'get a grip' on Mirca's unpredictable expansion bouts.

Part 5 — Gold and Blood:

While the witch and her companion camp out in the forest, Mirca slowly learns to control her explosive chest. Li continues to teach her how to fight, with varying success. Against Yrba's better judgment, Red coaxes her into doing a 'boob job' on Francine, a young woman from the town despairing over her lacking physique. Mirca manages to beat Li in combat for the first time, and they pick up Yrba and return to Red's brothel just before an early snowstorm rushes by. A few nights later, Mirca joins Berry in running contraband, they end up in an ambush, another storm brews, and then things go to hell, fast and really, really bad.

Part 6 — The Road:

After Berry's demise, Red, Yrba and the girls learn that the brawny woman took many secrets to her grave. Her final words lead them to a cave filled with gold, swords and shields. Red buys Yrba's confiscated witch cart back from the guards. Yrba and Mirca take to the road to consult Yrba's former mentor, a wizard. On their way, they discover enchanted chain mail, have a chance encounter with a gang of blackmailing thugs who bring disturbing news from Red's brothel and a hint at a deus ex machina who may be more machina than deus, only to have that knowledge wiped from their minds again.

Part 7 — Among Wolves:

In her inimitable style, Mirca almost beheads herself, almost spikes her witch girlfriend with assorted sharp tools, wrecks their cart, grows another six inches during the winter, and has — under Yrba's guidance — her first time with Alric, a bard whom the amazon has dragged in from the frozen forests.

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Part 8 — The Living Cauldron

It's springtime! Yrba makes good on her promise of "an extra inch or two for your services" to Alric. After the two women bid farewell to the bard, Yrba sets out to brew a fresh batch of her special potion. Once again Mirca's strength and size come in handy as the witch goes to great lengths (or rather... girth) to make sure that she'll have enough of her best-selling tincture to last for the rest of the year...

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Part 9: The Tower

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"Do you believe?

Don't you trust me.

Me wise magic."

— Van Halen, Me Wise Magic

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Chapter 43: The Pupil Becomes The Teacher

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The faint wrinkles in the corners of the brown eye behind the crystal deepened into black against the chocolate skin as the long-lashed eyelids narrowed menacingly, and the fingernails with the tips filed to points ticked impatiently against the sparkling frame of the tinted gem. Plump lips curled and revealed two rows of shining teeth.

"You're not ill. And you're not hurt. Yet. So tell me, why did you lie to me to get in here?"

Yrba put down the scrying glass and stared the farmer, a scrawny middle-aged man with stubby beard and receding hairline, straight in the eye. He fidgeted nervously on his chair.

"Uh—," he looked around the inside of the caravan and at the firmly closed door, lowering his voice to a whisper as he leaned conspiringly towards the curvy, stout gypsy, "my son, y—y'know, the skinny lad outside, he's supposed to marry the Jones's daughter soon, so it's kinda urgent, and he needs the talk, and maybe a little, uh, show and tell, and you traveling types, well, they say, that you, if the money's right —"

The witch's thin-stretched patience ripped. "I'm not a traveling whore, man!" she barked, slammed her hands on the table and half-rose from her seat, bringing her five-and-a-half feet height to good effect as she towered over the man.

He flinched and gesticulated at her to keep her voice down.

"Yes, no, surely not, but, uh, my wife, she said she'd known you when you travelled the highlands a few years before she moved here, and you've helped her with, uh, y'know, things, and she, she said, you're not all that evil, and you, and she, and I'm, uh, and she told me to say that she, uh, has the funny little birthmark s—shaped like, uh..."

Yrba raised her eyebrows and shut her eyes, sitting back down. Her fingers kneaded in circles over her temples. "Annabelle," she sighed. "Oh well. So what? You really want me to put Annie's son through his paces? Come on. He's old enough, I'm sure he knows more about those things than what you give him credit for —"

His voice was down to a whisper again, and he scratched his head nervously.

"No, see, he's — weird, y'know? He's got that..."

~

Mirca returned from her stroll to the clearing by the river bank with her arms full of branches. The towering seven feet Amazonian blonde dropped her load by the fireplace and wiped the sweat from her brow. Spring had progressed. Instead of her warm winter garb of wolfskin and chain mail over leather, she wore the figure-hugging dress of green silk that Li had sewn for her. The gift of the eastern lands refugee revealed more than it hid all the voluptuous curves and toned muscles underneath as she sat down at the side of the lone, nervous young man.

All in all, it promised to be a quiet day for a change. Except for the lad and his father, no other clients from the small village nearby had shown up. There was no need for the tall young woman to lean against the caravan as she sharpened her broadswords or to practice her martial skills as a spectacle for the waiting queue. Mirca still wondered why her splitting a trunk in two with a single strike seemed to fill Yrba's little pouch with gold coins much faster than when she just sat by the fire and stirred their supper. Then again, the late-night dancing they did every now and then if the audience was right, with her wearing a jingling chain mail that sparkled in the flickering flames and Yrba wrapped in nothing but a flimsy set of veils, yes, that was something she would've paid to see, too.

Mirca glanced at the young man who had not moved at all. The guy stared ahead into the smoldering fireplace left over from cooking the lunch and seemed to not have noticed her yet. She prodded him.

"Hey, you. I'm Mirca."

He startled and looked at her. After a few moments of wide-eyed gawking, he looked a bit higher and found her face.

"Hi. Tom. Uh, I'm Tom. From the village."

She smiled down on him. He looked lost and uneasy, and the former lumberjack serf girl knew all too well how that felt. She just had to try and lighten him up, she decided.

"What's yer problem?"

"M—me?" he stammered. "I—I've got no problem!"

"Oh, so you're with that guy in there? Your father? Don't worry, Yrba's amazing. She'll help him for sure."

The young man glanced up uneasily at the hunk of a girl. Even sitting right by his side on the fallen tree, she was a good head taller than him. He averted his eyes and stared back down into the ashes. "I hope she won't," he muttered.

"My, what a nasty thing to say about someone who's ill!" chided the blonde and frowned.

He blushed. "He's not sick. He wants her to show me how — how to do, y'know, those things with girls."

She gave him a playful jab in the ribs that almost chucked him off the trunk. "Woah! You lucky dog, you! Will she ever teach you! Yrba's even more amazing with the sexing!"

"Is she? She's old and she scares me. I shudder when I imagine how she—yerch. No, I don't think I'll learn much like that."

"That's mean! Don't talk about her like that!" Mirca slapped him over the head and pointed her finger at him. "She's not old. Soon as her rags and patches come off, she's all firm and smooth underneath! I should know! And she's got that totally awesome trick where she sticks her tongue into you and wiggles it around on the inside!"

"Her — tongue?! Inside?! What's her tongue got to do w—with..." All color drained from his face.

"Oh come on! You're a grown man, you can't be that clueless — oh, right. Yes, you can. Hey, don't look at me like that! I mean —" She grinned and prodded him again as she leaned in and whispered, "I was like that, too. Then I met those girls and got a real ay—duh—cay—shoon! And after that, I saved a bard from wolves, and Yrba taught me all about how to —"

She blushed and stopped. Looking away and scratching her head behind her ear, she muttered, "Uh, I'm — I'm blabbering again. Yrba said I better not do that." Straightening again and holding her arms out at him, she continued in a much louder voice, "So, anyway, look at you! Shouldn't the girls be all over you? Looks like you have a huge — like your family has a huge farm."

He shook his head. "Oh, I spend the summer up on the pastures to get away from them all. No, I'm saving myself for my one true love."

"Huh?" The giantess frowned in surprise and drew her upper lip. He smiled and turned livelier, gesticulating as he explained.

~

After he finished, Mirca scratched her head and cocked an eyebrow. "Oo—kay. So you're waiting for one special girl, and when she comes along, you'll know she's the right one. And you know it works like that because you once watched a play on a stage when you visited the market with your father, and you're waiting for the special girl to come by for ten years now. So now your parents think you're waiting too long, what with being twenty years old and unmarried and all, and they want to arrange a marriage, but you don't know the girl, but you're sure she's not the one so you decided you won't like her, and you'd rather keep on waiting for when the right girl comes along and then you and her will be happy instantly and you'll marry her on the spot."

He worked his way through the wall of words, then he nodded.

"And then I guess the two of you will do lots of sexing, and it'll be great and you'll be happy ever after."

He blushed, but nodded again. Mirca picked at her chin before she asked, slowly and ponderously, "But how are you going to make her happy if you haven't practiced? I mean, without Yrba showing me, I guess I'd have screwed up pretty badly on my first time."

Tom blinked. "What? I didn't think it'd be this complicated?"

The giantess put her hands to her hips. "Oh come on! Complicated! There's just so much you can do with each other, I'd never have thought about. I mean, just the things one can do with the mouth, or the fingers, and the timing is so important, and how to stroke and the squeezing and the talking and all that stuff! If you don't know about that, you'll just bore her, and you'll be missing out on all the fun, too! And it's no fun if you do it wrong! Pshaw! How do you want to make your princess happy if you just shove into her like a boar?"

Mirca drew a weird face and pondered on for a few seconds. Then she beamed. He jerked back at the sudden change in her expression.

"Hey, I'm paracti...uh...racitically Yrba's assistant. And she always says she's amazed by what I come up with, and she said there's little she can teach me about cocks any more! So if you're scared of her, then I can show it to you instead! You're not scared of me, are you?" She cocked her head, pouted and played with one of her long, golden curls as she smiled down on the young man who barely reached to her shoulders.

Tom blinked and looked her up and down. And before he could even answer, dared to answer, the gargantuan young woman jumped to her feet and grabbed him by his wrist. He staggered along as she made for the bushes at the forest's edge, because, the way she pulled at his arm, he feared she would not even notice if she dragged him over the ground after her.

~

Mirca swirled around and let go of his wrist, and he stumbled on against a tree and clung to its rough bark, catching his breath. The sun shone warmly on the patches of soft moss in the tiny clearing, and not a sound penetrated the thick underwood that hid the couple's retreat from the world.

"Right," she giggled behind him and pulled her dress off over her head, dropping the smooth cloth heedlessly to her side, then bowed as she drew down her underwear. "We haven't got much time, I need to go back to cook the dinner, but I can show you the basics if you put some effort to it! Come on, look at me!"

The giantess rose from her bent-over posture, slowly running her fingers over her firm thighs. Her huge and round mammaries, already well-filled as her evening milking neared, dangled heavily from her chest and grew flatter and wider as they settled against her ribcage. Leaning against a tree, the muscles in her midriff and legs shifted visibly under her flawless skin as she spread her thighs wide apart.

"Uh—," he stammered, staring at her heavy, heaving bust and deeper at the golden bush shining in the forest's twilight.

"Okay, so now this is what women look like. Yes, right," she immediately conceded, "not all women. But it's close. Also, it's all so much easier for you to see, what with me being pretty tall, y'know? Come, look here..."

Mirca reached out and effortlessly cupped the back of his head in her hand. She pushed him down to his knees, bringing his face within inches of the golden curls in her crotch. Her other hand's fingers spread the bush and the plump labia. The petals opened to reveal the moist entrance. She picked up a few of the glistening droplets and rubbed them over her skin.

"See? It's all smooth and pink and smells rather fresh, which means it's healthy, says Yrba. She says, if it's not like that, you better not stick your fun pole into it, or else you'll need some of her potions pretty soon. Okay, so now that's where you want to get into, later. Notice how wet it is?" Her fingers went deeper, and the entrance of the cave opened to her touch with a faint squelching. "That's how it's got to be if you want to slip in. Now see that little bulge, up here?"

Her glistening fingers slipped higher and squeezed into the soft flesh. Her lust button rose from its wrappers, and the giantess sucked air through her clenched teeth.

"Fffff—hhhh, oh yes, that's — that's very sensitive. You gotta be careful touching it, or she'll slap you silly if you treat that little cherry wrong, m'kay?"

Tom gulped and nodded. Mirca grabbed him under the armpit with one hand and pulled him upright again. She smiled and lifted one of her breasts with both hands, offering it to him like a ripe pumpkin.

"Now, this here is something else you can play with. You'll not see boobs that big on many other girls, so don't get all worked up about them, okay? They're a good place to start, though. Here —" She grabbed his hands and pushed them on the bulging areolae. "— That's what they feel like. Go on, rub them while I help you lose your garb." Her fingertips fiddled down along the front of his shirt. "Why do you wear all those complicates things? What's that? Hooks? Who still uses hooks these days? Never heard of buttons?"

He held Mirca's soft, warm breast in his hands as if it was a dangerous animal, trying to balance the heavy, overflowing flesh without grabbing it too hard.

"M—Mirca, this, we, I, I don't think this —"

Her fingers ran over his naked chest, and her fingernails gently scratched his skin.

"You do want to make your princess happy when she comes along, don't you?" she whispered.

Tom sighed. "Yes, I do."

"See, and I'm going to show you how! Now start kneading my puppies — mmmh. You're pretty good at this. Now do the other one, too. Run your thumbs over the nipples, gently—"