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This is a commissioned piece. If you'd like to get some work done from me, please consider checking out my Linktree.

Posted using PostyBirb", "writing": "“Observe, everyone, as I create a great work of art out of nothing!” This proclamation comes from the reptilian spell caster. Her staff is high, and Tania waves her hand, focusing the mana on lifting the stones of the quarry. Her brow furrows as she concentrates, and she casts the spell by spreading her fingers.\n\nIn what was once a pile of rubble, there now sits a statue in the queen's likeness, rendered beautifully as if by a master’s hand.\n\nThe townsfolk cheer, and festivities play loudly, but Tania grasps her staff and leans upon it, her head throbbing.\n\nThe journeyman mage hobbles away from the loud display and toward the mayor’s house. “I’ve come for my pay,” she grumbles.\n\n“And such pay it is!” says the mayor, handing her a sack of coins.\n\nShe weighs it in her palm and nods, turning towards the inn, only to be interrupted when a hand falls upon her shoulder.\n\n“And where are you going?” asks the mayor. “Off to some other great magical work?”\n\n“Off to rest,” Tania says, rubbing her eyes. “I must restore my mana.”\n\n“Surely, that one spell wasn’t enough to drain such a powerful mage as you?” The mayor scoffs. But he stops, holding his hands up. “No, no, I shouldn’t be prying into your needs. You’ve done us a great service—the queen will look favorably on our little town now.”\n\nTania nods. “Greatness is measured differently by different people,” the mage says, slithering away and heading back to her room. It would, after all, be a long journey to return home.\n\nBut as she collapses in her bed at the inn, staring up at the ceiling, the mayor’s words resonate. “Am I so great?” Tania asks herself. “I can perform such great feats with such rudimentary magic, yet it drains me.” She closes her eyes, finding the headache pounding furiously at her.\n\nThe nap is long, but not long enough that the day is spent, and so Tania climbs out of bed and down to grab something to eat. As she heads to the dining room, she passes by the pleasantly plump matron, carrying a small bundle of joy in her hands.\n\nThe mage apologizes, her hand moving to cover her sight of the nursing mother.\n\n“Aw, it ain’t nothin’ to be upset over, miss!” says the mother. “Tis but a natural thing to feed a baby.”\n\n“My kind doesn’t nurse our young,” the wizard admits, \" to me it is.”\n“Aw, well, here at this inn, we ensure no one ever goes hungry. I’m sure This’n will grow big and strong, and extra smart too.”\n\nTania frowns. “And how can you possibly know such a thing?”\n\n“Gooorh, why wouldn’t I? I’ve been feedin’ myself only the best of the foods available in the town. What goes in is what comes out is what me mah used to say.”\n\nTania blinks, lowering her hand. The babe pulls its mouth free, yawning and snuggling against its mother.\n\n“What goes in is what comes out,” Tania repeats, stroking her snout.\n\n* * *\n\nThe spell caster took her little episode to heart as she returned to the great libraries where many spell casters did their research, and from the many great tomes, Tania pulls anatomy and histories of motherhood in the mammalian form. She read about the alchemists, the transmutation of one matter to another, and the universal dogmas of mana and magic.\n\n“It is the simple matter,” she writes her hypothesis for her own notes and future publication, “that energy cannot be created nor destroyed. It can be changed, and it can be stored.”\n\nTania stands in her research chambers, draped in a robe, in front of a full-body mirror. The stone is cold to her feet, and she shivers, but this is what must be done. She takes a deep breath and lowers her robe, exposing herself to the cold and looking, for the first time, at her body from a magical angle.\n\nHer hands move down over her face and neck, over her sides, but then up and to her chest. How flat she is—the slight and weak frame of one who works her mind and not her body—but not just that—there is the matter of her chest.\n\nExperts speculate that all species that walk on two legs are related in some way, and from that kinship, some species have used parts, and others have those same parts unused. There are, for example, those who do not have the impressive tail she and her kin have, but others, such as that matronly innkeeper, have such bountiful breasts filled with milk.\n\nShe cups her chest, thumbs rubbing over the slight nubs—vestigial nipples none of her people ever used. They are so sensitive, but as she pinches them and rubs her fingers and thumbs over them, she sighs, shuddering at the sensitivity but realizing that just like that mother’s, they too have the mechanisms for dispensing fluid.\n\nOther magi have used various bladders and pouches of natural design to hold the source of magic itself. For instance, the dragons contain great fires within themselves within their reservoirs of mana. Could she affect her body by allowing such tremendous energy to be stored herself?\n\nWould the attempt cost the budding sorceress her very identity?”\n\nShe slips her hands down off of her and clenches them into fists. Staring at herself in the mirror, she furrows her brows and says. “If I am to be truly great,” she says, trembling, “then I cannot continue to be as I am now.”\n\nThe experiment begins simply enough as Tania moves her hands over her body. She lets the magic coalesce on her fingertips. The little bit she could carry rests in those fine points, not finding any particular place to dissipate. She runs those fingers over her chest, massaging the small, nearly non-existent lumps. It would be a lie to say that she does not enjoy the sensation of the tingling of the magic, nor the squeezing and the supple actions that bring her to a shivering sensation. However, it would not be enough to satisfy her desired effect.\n\nHowever, once she pulls her hands away, she feels the tingling remain there. It is a modified healing spell that she used upon her breast. When she was done, Tania stretches her arms up high over her head, poking her chest out, frowning that she saw no results. But results would come, indeed. So she wraps a measuring tape around her chest, marking the scant measurement in her log for future study.\n\nEvery day, she partakes in this ritual, and every day, she looks at the results. The spell work should be sound. It was based on all of her research, after all. But the results, if any, are minuscule.\n\nAnother way of thinking was that the results were tiny, but they were there.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "“Observe, everyone, as I create a great work of art out of nothing!” This proclamation comes from the reptilian spell caster. Her staff is high, and Tania waves her hand, focusing the mana on lifting the stones of the quarry. Her brow furrows as she concentrates, and she casts the spell by spreading her fingers.

In what was once a pile of rubble, there now sits a statue in the queen's likeness, rendered beautifully as if by a master’s hand.

The townsfolk cheer, and festivities play loudly, but Tania grasps her staff and leans upon it, her head throbbing.

The journeyman mage hobbles away from the loud display and toward the mayor’s house. “I’ve come for my pay,” she grumbles.

“And such pay it is!” says the mayor, handing her a sack of coins.

She weighs it in her palm and nods, turning towards the inn, only to be interrupted when a hand falls upon her shoulder.

“And where are you going?” asks the mayor. “Off to some other great magical work?”

“Off to rest,” Tania says, rubbing her eyes. “I must restore my mana.”

“Surely, that one spell wasn’t enough to drain such a powerful mage as you?” The mayor scoffs. But he stops, holding his hands up. “No, no, I shouldn’t be prying into your needs. You’ve done us a great service—the queen will look favorably on our little town now.”

Tania nods. “Greatness is measured differently by different people,” the mage says, slithering away and heading back to her room. It would, after all, be a long journey to return home.

But as she collapses in her bed at the inn, staring up at the ceiling, the mayor’s words resonate. “Am I so great?” Tania asks herself. “I can perform such great feats with such rudimentary magic, yet it drains me.” She closes her eyes, finding the headache pounding furiously at her.

The nap is long, but not long enough that the day is spent, and so Tania climbs out of bed and down to grab something to eat. As she heads to the dining room, she passes by the pleasantly plump matron, carrying a small bundle of joy in her hands.

The mage apologizes, her hand moving to cover her sight of the nursing mother.

“Aw, it ain’t nothin’ to be upset over, miss!” says the mother. “Tis but a natural thing to feed a baby.”

“My kind doesn’t nurse our young,” the wizard admits, " to me it is.”
“Aw, well, here at this inn, we ensure no one ever goes hungry. I’m sure This’n will grow big and strong, and extra smart too.”

Tania frowns. “And how can you possibly know such a thing?”

“Gooorh, why wouldn’t I? I’ve been feedin’ myself only the best of the foods available in the town. What goes in is what comes out is what me mah used to say.”

Tania blinks, lowering her hand. The babe pulls its mouth free, yawning and snuggling against its mother.

“What goes in is what comes out,” Tania repeats, stroking her snout.

* * *

The spell caster took her little episode to heart as she returned to the great libraries where many spell casters did their research, and from the many great tomes, Tania pulls anatomy and histories of motherhood in the mammalian form. She read about the alchemists, the transmutation of one matter to another, and the universal dogmas of mana and magic.

“It is the simple matter,” she writes her hypothesis for her own notes and future publication, “that energy cannot be created nor destroyed. It can be changed, and it can be stored.”

Tania stands in her research chambers, draped in a robe, in front of a full-body mirror. The stone is cold to her feet, and she shivers, but this is what must be done. She takes a deep breath and lowers her robe, exposing herself to the cold and looking, for the first time, at her body from a magical angle.

Her hands move down over her face and neck, over her sides, but then up and to her chest. How flat she is—the slight and weak frame of one who works her mind and not her body—but not just that—there is the matter of her chest.

Experts speculate that all species that walk on two legs are related in some way, and from that kinship, some species have used parts, and others have those same parts unused. There are, for example, those who do not have the impressive tail she and her kin have, but others, such as that matronly innkeeper, have such bountiful breasts filled with milk.

She cups her chest, thumbs rubbing over the slight nubs—vestigial nipples none of her people ever used. They are so sensitive, but as she pinches them and rubs her fingers and thumbs over them, she sighs, shuddering at the sensitivity but realizing that just like that mother’s, they too have the mechanisms for dispensing fluid.

Other magi have used various bladders and pouches of natural design to hold the source of magic itself. For instance, the dragons contain great fires within themselves within their reservoirs of mana. Could she affect her body by allowing such tremendous energy to be stored herself?

Would the attempt cost the budding sorceress her very identity?”

She slips her hands down off of her and clenches them into fists. Staring at herself in the mirror, she furrows her brows and says. “If I am to be truly great,” she says, trembling, “then I cannot continue to be as I am now.”

The experiment begins simply enough as Tania moves her hands over her body. She lets the magic coalesce on her fingertips. The little bit she could carry rests in those fine points, not finding any particular place to dissipate. She runs those fingers over her chest, massaging the small, nearly non-existent lumps. It would be a lie to say that she does not enjoy the sensation of the tingling of the magic, nor the squeezing and the supple actions that bring her to a shivering sensation. However, it would not be enough to satisfy her desired effect.

However, once she pulls her hands away, she feels the tingling remain there. It is a modified healing spell that she used upon her breast. When she was done, Tania stretches her arms up high over her head, poking her chest out, frowning that she saw no results. But results would come, indeed. So she wraps a measuring tape around her chest, marking the scant measurement in her log for future study.

Every day, she partakes in this ritual, and every day, she looks at the results. The spell work should be sound. It was based on all of her research, after all. But the results, if any, are minuscule.

Another way of thinking was that the results were tiny, but they were there.", "pools_count": 0, "title": "Lactania's Origin 1", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/plain", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "33" }