Yrba's Travels Pt. 11

Story Info
Mirca and Yrba grow apart. Other things grow, too.
19.3k words
4.53
17.8k
5

Part 11 of the 12 part series

Updated 09/25/2022
Created 02/04/2010
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

Yrba's Travels, Pt.11 — Oil To The Flames

by

Paul Gerard (a pen name)

~

Part 11 of a 12-part tale, laced heavily with lesbian encounters and strange transformations.

~

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 our planet's 12th century.

~

Proof-reading: Yeah, right, y'all know by now, once again a mixture of not-wanting-to-pester-others and wanting-to-stay-on-schedule, non-native of the english language, hobbyist, yadda yadda yadda. In short: may contain traces of bad grammar nuts, and you're kindly asked to ignore that.

~

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 learn 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.

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...

Part 9 — The Tower:

After Mirca giving out a little free sex ed on the side to a misguided farm boy, Yrba and her giantess finally arrive at Ramec the wizard's tower. A rainy week takes its toll on the witch and sends her into a bizarre nightmare. Come next morning, the weary witch finally gets some answers from her malevolent mentor, but at what painful price? Yrba soon finds herself strapped to a laboratory table and Mirca ends up a brainless slave until her penchant for creating havoc accidentally saves the day, for once, but not for everyone.

Part 10 — Accidental Ascension:

Mirca's grip on her explosive gift still isn't what it should be when she suddenly finds herself worshipped as the new god-queen to the throne of Ebron shire after a row at the town's drawbridge. Early next morning, Yrba gets ousted by Carwon, the upstarting vizier — a decision he soon comes to regret. Upon her triumphant return, Yrba learns, much to her surprise and dismay, how quickly her pupil came to enjoy a queen's pampered lifestyle. Hoping that Mirca will soon tire of the palace life, Yrba takes to the road and goes back to her old ways of trading and bartering. With each visit, the witch and her pupil grow further apart — and Mirca keeps on growing in different ways, too...

~

~

Part 11: Oil to the Flames

"And the high ideals and the promise

You once dressed the future in

Are dancing in the embers with the wind"

Jackson Browne, Black and White

~

Chapter 57: More Fun And Fro-licking

~

The cerulean sky domed over the white walls of Ebron shire's palace. Late summer's warm air whispered through the colonnaded front of the main hall, and the living embodiment of the goddess Mamaria rested in a beam of sunlight. The precious stones and golden chains draped all over the sleeping woman's skin sparkled to her faint movements. Two maids stood on duty on the roof, following the sun's path with a huge polished shield to make sure the goddess-queen's breathtaking physique always glowed like a beacon in the twilight of the throne room. Mamaria was big in many ways. Her imposing seven feet height alone would make people stop dead and stare, but there was not much of a chance of catching a glimpse of her chiseled abs or her strong legs that tapered from muscular thighs and strong calves to sinewy ankles. Her incredible breasts shielded her body from sight. They rested like a pair of man-sized eggs in a nest of velvet pillows, their ample volume barely corralled by the mockery of a chain mail bra forged from palm-sized golden and silver rings. The lacy meshwork of rings left huge holes rimmed with thin gold plates, which in turn framed the plate-sized domes of the areolae surrounding the nubby cantaloupes of the goddess' dripping nipples. A pair of low and sturdy tables with wheels stood by the far wall, and should the goddess-queen desire to move, her maids were ready to hoist the cubic yards of warm, pliable mammaries on top of the contraptions.

~

"Mamaria" was more of a title than a name, and the tall young woman enjoying the warm sunbeam actually went by the name of Mirca. The whispers and the subdued chuckles of her servants and the gentle strokes and touches of many fingers on her breasts finally woke her. Smacking and groaning, she rubbed her hands over her face, stretched her limbs and made the soft spheres roll about as sat up on her divan. Two girls immediately jumped to attention and began to brush and dress her unkempt, ruffled, golden-white mane. Snapping her fingers, Mirca ordered her first maid closer. She didn't even have to say a word. Weeks of daily routine dictated the exchange.

"The night's rest has added another five inches to your bust, highness."

Mirca smiled. She got as far as opening her mouth to ask when the maid continued, "Two buckets and three and a half chalices of milk over the night. Up by half a chalice. Your hugen—," she cleared her throat, "Your Highness are brimming with the gift of nurture. Your lunch will be served after the late-morning milking."

"Good—gooood." Mirca leaned forward and closed her eyes, stroking her palms over her skin for as far as she could reach. Her servants' oiled hands now kneaded her fist-sized nipples, and she gave herself up their expert massage. Warmth welled in the mountains of flesh, and soon, the gift of nurture kept on adding to the two buckets and three and a half chalices with a vengeance. The mouth-watering smells of Mirca's lunch drifted from the palace kitchen and made her stomach rumble.

~

"Girls, you gotta see this!" Mirca giggled. "Come gather 'round, this is something I don't show off every day! It's a bit freaky!"

The chattering maidservants inched closer to their living goddess and fell silent. All eyes were on the statuesque, seven feet woman with the long blond hair, sitting on the throne. Mirca was happy as a clam being the center of attention of the several dozen of young women of her entourage. She raised her hands over her breasts and pointed at her mouth as she puckered her lips.

"Ready? Loog af ffif."

The tip of Mirca's tongue pushed through her full, pouted lips and curved up until the pink tentacle's tip ran over her eyelids. Trembling slightly, the agile, wet muscle gained another couple of inches as it contracted its girth and firmed up, touching the root of Mirca's hair at the edge of her forehead with ease. She held on for a few seconds before her tentacle whipped back into her mouth and Mirca beamed at the speechless crowd.

"Huh? Huh? Ain't that weird? It's not just my breasts getting bigger!" She giggled. "Just imagine, another couple of weeks, and I only need to curl up a little to lick mys—"

She hesitated and looked around, putting her hands to her hips — another gesture lost on her audience, with her arms well hidden from their view behind her jiggling promontory.

"Oh come on, you don't need to bow and do this hand waving thing all the time!"

Shlurp.

"Thee? It'h thuth mwy thongue!"

Smack.

Mirca wiped her mouth and rolled her eyes.

"Oh would you lighten up a bit? If y'all keep on worshipping everything I have or do, then this goddess business ain't no fun! You're all so ... so shy and stuff!"

"Forgive us, goddess," came the whispered answers from all around. The giantess sighed. The adoration and reverence was nice, no doubt about that, but sometimes she missed the old days of traveling when she could simply have a chat with someone and actually look them in the face instead of on the head.

~

Brina lowered her head together with the other girls as their goddess' gaze swept over them. But she kept her eyes on her queen's jaw, hoping to catch another glimpse of the tongue. Warmth spread inside her womb. She had been promoted to the inner circle of the maids just days ago, and all that time she had heard the stories about the weird appendage of their new mistress. Brina had spent quite a few nights since, rolling around in her bunk, begging for sleep that wouldn't come, while her fingers frantically tried to quench the fire that burst in her groin each time she fantasized about the mythical snake of the goddess as it slithered into her, inch upon inch upon inch.

And here she was, she had seen the incredible tongue for real, and it had been exactly like she had dreamed it to be. And yet it was all wrong. She felt heat, sticky, mucous heat that seeped down her vagina, that crept out between her labia, and she couldn't stop it. She was rooted to the spot, even as the warm secretions clung to the inside of her thighs and made her skin all slippery and wet. The drops oozed down over her knee, and still more of it welled up inside her. She knew she was done for. Whatever the punishment for getting the hots for one's deity would be, a lass getting the hots for her goddess would surely be off far worse. Tears stung in the corners of her eyes.

~

Mirca narrowed her eyes. One of the new girls had her head not down to the floor like all the others. The chestnut-haired neophyte tried to make it look like she did, but under her brows she couldn't tear her gaze away from Mirca's mouth.

The amazon thrust her arm over her breasts, pointed at her and snapped her fingers. All the other heads spun to Brina.

"You! The new girl! Yes, you!"

Now Brina recoiled in fear. "Goddess! I'm sorry —"

"What's the matter with you?"

"N — nothing."

Her cheeks flushed in a bright red, betraying her. Mirca grinned.

"Uh-huh. 'Nothing'. Of course."

She lolled out her tongue. "Tho mwath ah yoo thinging abooth thath?"

The girl now trembled from head to toe. Her breathing came in short gasps. The deep flush spread from her cheeks over the rest of her face and down across her chest. The other maids around her started to giggle and point at her crotch. Mirca straightened up to peek over her breasts and see for herself as the servants moved aside and left Brina singled out in a growing circle of shame.

The maid was close to tears now. Mortified, her face contorted in anguish.

"I didn't want that to happen!" she wailed. "I just couldn't help it! Mercy!"

Where her legs met, her clingy dress was soaked through. A small rivulet of clear liquid ran down her leg and dripped on the marble floor.

"Brina is a gushing carpet-muncher! Brina is a gushing carpet-muncher! Neener neener!" started the chorus of mocking voices.

Mirca clapped her hands. Just once. The hall fell silent.

"Your goddess has a very special place in her big heart for all gushing carpet-munchers! I don't want to hear this used as an insult, ever again!" her voice boomed.

Mumble mumble.

"Your goddess demands a straight answer!"

"Yes, goddess."

"Good." She pointed at the maids to Brina's sides. "You, and you, now grab her arms."

"Mercy!" screamed the trembling girl, too scared to squirm.

"Oh shush! That's for your own good."

"Goddess —," she sobbed, her voice failing her again.

"You two, you'll read her every wish from her lips. Brina, I'm curious. How would you prepare yourself for your goddess?"

"I d—don't understand..."

Mirca ran her tongue out and flicked it against the tip of her nose before she slurped it back into her mouth.

"I'm offering you a ride on that. Ready yourself, take a bath, whatever. I'll be waiting. Surprise me!"

Brina's mouth dropped open. She rolled her eyes, and her legs gave in. The two girls to her left and right caught her just in time as she fell.

"For your own good, like I said. Right, what are you two waiting for? Wake her and get her ready. And the rest of you, off with my decorations, and oil up my puppies." Mirca picked at the jinging wrapper of metal around her breasts.

~

Brina was a nervous wreck.

"No, I can't! I can't!" she exclaimed, pacing up and down the small dressing chamber.

"Shut up! You'll get what you've dreamed of, tart, so get the fuck ready! Shouldn't you be happy?" sneered the first of her unwilling aides.

"Right! Dammit, you'll get that tool up your clam to the hilt! Have you seen the size of it? Now I really wish she would've picked me, and I'm not even a dyke," growled the second girl.

"I, I was only dreaming of it! Like, in, not for real! So why don't you go instead! Oh please —"

"Yeah, right, fresh meat!" The second girl paraded up and down in front of Brina, swaying her hips in ridiculous exaggeration. "Ooh, look at me, my goddess," she squeaked. "Come on, eat me, giant woman, make me cum because I've seen your mighty tongue and I need it up my twat so very baaad." She slapped Brina over the head. "Hello? She's a goddess? She made the Rules ages ago. And the Rules say, don't ungh-ungh with me. Really, it's as if you've never ever listened to Carwon's sermons! You don't propose to a goddess just because you think she's hawt! She chooses you if she wants to."

Envy darkened the girl's features.

"And she picked you. So what do you want us to do now?"

Brina buried her face in her hands.

"I've got no idea!" she wailed. "You're right! She's a goddess! I can't go and have my goddess eat me — it's wrong! But she — she ordered me — she — her Rules, why can she — why did she change them —"

The other girls eyed each other. Then they grabbed Brina and pulled her dress off over her head. The first girl sniffed at Brina's skin, ran her hand through between the blushing maid's thighs and sniffed her fingers.

"You reek like a fishmonger's locker! Carol, get the brush! And the thin rubber hose, the funnel and the perfume! Meet us at the basins. We'll make that wallflower bloom one way or the other."

~

The small door opened again a quarter of an hour later. Brina slowly stepped out into the large throne room, naked. She winced with each step. Her crotch still hurt and stung from the "cleaning".

"Finally! Come here, Brina. I don't bite. I just eat girls for dinner," joked Mirca. She reached out over her glistening, lubed-up breasts, dug her fingers into her skin and pulled herself up higher on them. Crossing her arms on the flesh cushions and cocking her head, she rested her chin on her hand and smiled at the trembling young woman. "So what do you want me to do now?"