Yrba's Travels Pt. 11

"Swelling — skin — getting tight — filling up —," Patra stuttered, shaking in spasms. The soft skin of her mammaries flooded with delicious warmth. The leavened dough of milk and flesh started to rise in her breasts' heat-filled oven.

"Taut!" she gasped. Her areolae stretched. The wrinkles around her nipples' bases disappeared when the expanding filling of her boobs demanded more wrapping than the smooth skin could give. The nubs climbed up as small, slightly darker domes formed on top of the developing mounds.

Yrba's fingers tugged and knitted a tiny portion of the otherworldly glow into an invisible ball. Patra's eyes followed them nervously as they neared her face. With one hand on her servant's jaw, Yrba ran the ethereal sphere over Partra's lips until the witch's vision showed a luminous coating. And then, starting in the corner of Patra's mouth, Yrba drew her forefinger along the dry, trembling lips. The rosy flesh plumped in her stroke's wake. Yrba leaned forward and tenderly nibbled away at the soft, juicy lips, playfully pulling at them with her shiny white teeth. Her tongue massaged the seductively protruding, glistening lower lip.

"Oh yes, that's kissable," she sighed._ Kissing and nibbling her way south, Yrba positioned herself over the next target. A drop of hot saliva trickled from her pouted lips, fell the mere half-inch to Patra's left nipple and crept down the rough, spongy flesh. Moments later, the juicy, huge lips of the witch engulfed the swelling milkberry and pinched it gently.

"Uuuunnnghh..." A strangled and deep groan struggled from Patra's wide-open mouth. Yrba stroked the slopes of the developing mounds, massaging the condensed glow of ethereal magic into her servant's eager flesh. The fresh handfuls quivered and shook in her fingers. They gained another inch of height with every few blinks as jiggly, soft flesh throbbed into them. Yrba guided the slow growth, spreading it evenly over the replenishing skin bags.

Patra's delirious moan was barely more than a coarse whisper. "Howwwwww — mmmmuch?"

Yrba's hands grabbed the proud mams and gave them a double squeeze. Warm, juicy mass bulged out between her fingers, and she nodded approvingly. Her mouth spread into a wide grin. "It'll do, believe me," she laughed. Patra didn't hear her over all the bells ringing in her head. She didn't hear the groaning of her hip bones or the faint stretching noises. All of her mind filled with the tickle and tingle of her rounding and tautening rear, creeping wider on the blanket as Yrba's experienced hands shaped it up.

The witch let go of the now shapely buttocks and dragged her forefinger through Patra's moist clam. The servant's whole body grew rigid. The pleated blankets rent in her cramped hands. She rose on her shoulders and heels. Her curved body hung in mid-air like an arch before she dropped down on the bed, sagging limply into the mattress with a deep sigh. The new, soft, half-melon-sized beacons of womanhood on her ribs shook and swayed.

"My pleasure," Yrba smiled, licking the sticky moisture from her fingertips.

~

Chapter 61: Edges And Shards

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"Patra!" gasped the cleaning woman, eyeing the figure by her side as she bent down and soaked her rag. "You've grown! Wow! Your udders, they are full!"

Patra smiled back at her, a broad, happy smile. She stopped scrubbing the floor and hefted her breasts through her tunic. "Yes! The witch did that! No more sad flaps! I look like in my prime again, all over! Oh, you should see my ass! All firm and round! I was so afraid of her at first, but — just look now! Oh, she's such a sweet woman! She even let me sleep in her bed! And then we — no, I'm not telling." She winked, giggled and started to work again. "Milady even called me best of companion!"

Mirca had followed the exchange behind her back. A dark cloud wandered over her face.

The next day, Patra found herself assigned to the pigpens. She didn't mind. Work was work, after all.

~

Yrba looked her friend right in the eyes.

"Well, Mirca? Have you finally made up your mind? If we start exercising now, you'll be ready to walk again come spring. Might even fit back on the cart box, girl. There's still a whole world for you to discover, out there."

"I—I'm not sure. It's all so nice here. Yrba! Oh, how about waiting another month? I mean, it's —"

"You're just stalling! Why don't you come out right away? You want to stay here and stuff yourself until you're just a piece of furniture in this palace! Oooh, and guess what? Then you'll come crying to me again! Well, I'm not going to sit around waiting for you to grow tired of playing the Holy Cow!"

"Cow? Cow—?! Why you —! Fine then! Go away! Go and be happy in your crappy caravan! Why don't you go ahead and take your new girl toy with you! Who needs you anyway?" She wiggled, helplessly tied down by the sheer weight of her breasts. "Uh — Girls! More lotion! And the buckets! I can feel it's high time now!"

At the clap of her hands, dozens of servants stepped up and started to oil and massage her breasts, paying extra attention to the deep fold where her mountains connected to her chest. Every spurt brought forth by the kneading and squeezing was meticulously caught and recorded. And then Mirca's face screwed up in delight. The fist-sized nipples opened up, and the maids with the buckets had a hard time keeping up.

"How is the milking coming along?" Mirca groaned after a while.

One of the maids checked a scroll and drew another couple of marks on a long tally list. "Extremely well, Goddess. We're almost done for the whole week. You're positively brimming today."

"Good, good! I like to make everybody happy," the tall woman moaned as oiled hands gently slithered around her engorged aureolae. With her body burning delightfully in arousal, the slightest touch sent rippled contractions wandering over her breasts and made her nipples spray thick squirts of nurturing liquid into the receptacles.

Mirca's gaze slowly focused back on the witch, and her brow furrowed again. "You're still here? Don't you have another girl to coax into your service? Oh gods YES! Do that agaaaahhhiiinnnn!"

"Don't worry, your highness! I'm on my way already!" hissed the witch, but then she lowered her head so Mirca couldn't see the wave of sadness that swept through her features.

Milk whore, Yrba thought. That wasn't what I had in mind for you, girl. No, not at all. What a waste. Well, at least you seem happy now.

She sighed. It would have to do. Not a happy end for the books, but then — which ends truly are?

"And bring the scented liniment and the tubes and rinse my clam! I want to be ready for my lord! He'll be bull-hard again as soon as he sees me glistening with oil," Yrba heard as she slowly closed the door behind her and walked to her wagon that stood alone and waiting at the end of the long flight of the front stairs.

Nobody had come to bid her farewell. As usual. Only Patra waved her a mute goodbye from one of the many windows. Yrba didn't even notice.

~

The guardian at the town gate stopped her with a raised hand.

"Pull your cart over. There is someone waiting for you, witch. Come down from the box and follow me."

Yrba's stomach cramped into a lump of ice.

"In there," the guard added and pointed at the hut on the side of the gate. Yrba noticed the heavy iron bars over the windows. An unfriendly hand shoved her over the doorsill. She blinked into the darkness.

"So this is it?" she whispered.

"This is what?" Carwon's voice replied at her side. "Take a seat with me, for a minute, please."

He patted the bench to his left, and she sat down.

"I just wanted to thank you for what you've done for Mirca. I'm sorry she has changed so much. You two really had a special thing going, I guess. I just wished —"

He fell silent and chewed on his lips.

"Yes, me too," Yrba jumped in. "Promise me you'll look after her? I know she's all over you, she's not just screwing your marrow out. But then I guess I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, eh? And, thank you for Patra. She was a real godsend, Carwon."

She patted his thigh through the rough tunic. He winced. And then he winced a little more when Yrba's probing fingers wandered curiously along the round, tubular thing until they wrapped around the kneecap-like ending.

After a few moments, she pursed her lips and started to smile.

"Either you've lost your leg below the knee, or —"

"Or?" he moaned.

"— Or that's no thigh and you're really —"

"— Happy to see you," he finished with a sigh. "If a had a coin for every time I heard that, then —"

"— You'd be packing quite some change. Oh, silly me," she grinned and gave the warm rod in her hand a gentle squeeze. "You do. How come? Always been this big?"

"Not quite. The last goddess had the kitchen spice my food with bullweed. By the time I noticed ... well, I guess you should know what it does to men."

"You're lucky. With my girl being the hulk she is, you'll need every single inch of that man trunk to make her enjoy the ride."

"So, no hard feelings?"

"Towards you? Maybe a little. You're too much into those acts you put on. Towards Mirca? She doesn't know better, the poor lass. So, do you swear you'll take care of her?" Her voice had an edge now, and her pointy fingernails dug into the rough cloth over his manhood. He shuddered in her grip.

"Yrba, I solemnly swear on my life that I'll take good care of Mirca."

"We'll see." She let got and looked him straight in the eyes, and but for moment he thought he'd seen a little red glint in them as she added:

"I'll be back."

~

To Be Continued...

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