CONTENT WARNING: The text below is, by its intent, explicit in nature. It is unrated and for mature audiences only. This is neither intended nor suitable for any minors, nor adults that do not want to be exposed to descriptions of non-realistic sexual intercourse in a fantasy setting. It is your own choice and responsibility if you continue reading.

I’ll break it down for those hard of understanding:

Non-realistic — The things described herein do not work in the real world. Not At All! And by that, I mean “not at all”. Just like you can’t turn a frog into a prince, there’s no way to turn the plain maid into a big-chested princess by blowing her up. You’ll just end up with pieces of dead plain maid all over the room. So, don’t even for a second think about it. I can’t believe I’m actually writing this. It’s like having to say, “hey, you know, broomsticks don’t really fly, so you better not grab one and jump out the window, m’kay?” Are there really people that stupid out there? Gosh, I hope I never meet one of those.

Sexual intercourse — Two or more people of the same or different sex and legal age, doing teh nastay together. Ask yourself, and be honest: Do You Want To Read About That? Should you read about that? Are you legally entitled to read that? If "No", then What Are You Doing Here?

Fantasy setting — Far, far away in a mirror universe. Faery tale. Magic. Wizardry. Totally made up. Out of this world. In other words, restating the obvious: Do Not Try This At Home!

Siren Song, Part 4 – Beyond The Prize Cow

by

Paul Gerard (a pen name)

First Draft started 2008-06-17

This version 2012-09-12

Spellchecked: by computer.

Proof-reading: A very heartfelt thank you to CoffeePilot for his time and patience.

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.

This story unfolds in medieval times, around the 12th Century. 1185, if you’re one for nitpicking.

Once upon a time …

The year is 1185, the world is Altaerna, and the place is somewhere in the temperate climate where people are mostly pale and mostly stubborn.

A winter ago, a lithe and lissom young woman saved a handsome young fisherman from drowning. The fisherman’s would-be fiance, headstrong cold-hearted not-so-young Menena, the town’s mayor and wealthy shop owner, didn’t take it lightly when her trusted maid Barbara and her well-equipped secret boy toy David fell for each other hard and fast despite being unable to join in carnal pleasures (on account of Barbara’s nethers being a thimble and David being … rather more than that).

Consumed by jealousy, Menena saw to it that David was banned from the town, with Menena maligning him whenever she could. Barbara was given the boot but still found a little lenience in Menena’s eyes for the years of service, so the lithe blonde was allowed to spend market days in the side streets where she’s now trying to sell for a living the fishes that David catches with his tiny boat and his worn nets. The outcast couple of twenty-somethings got secretly married and made it through their first year, living a life of privation in a tiny hut atop the cliffs, hours from the town.

Part 1:

Spring has returned. Going for a swim while waiting for her husband’s return, Barbara hits upon a drifting net chock-full of fish while her other half David makes but a single lucky catch out at sea. Reunited, the young couple retreats into their favorite hideaway to have another go at their most pressing problem, their inability to consume their marriage properly. Still unable to succeed, they resort to each other’s dexterity like the many times before.

As Barbara prepares lunch gutting the fish David brought, she discovers a valuable pendant in its belly. Putting it on, she — is woken by her husband, hours later. Not only has she developed quite the appetite for the unfamiliar fishes that the new net seems to attract, she also suddenly succeeds in devouring herculean meat (wink, wink). When David sets out to a bigger and more distant town in an effort to sell more of his catches, Barbara ends up doing a little self-exploration on a moonlit night. She also ends up with quite some more Barbara before the night is through. After a day spent in fear and despair, and lucky for her self-conscious mind, a) most of it has disappeared again by the time Dave returns, and b) David doesn’t mind the surplus left on her at all.

As the next market day comes around, Barbara squeezes into her now ill-fitting old clothes and is about to go on a quest for answers about what has befallen her, and her first stop will be the town’s healer and midwife. Alas, the market isn’t over yet …

Part 2:

Following Barbara's erroneously assuring visit to the town's midwife, Barbara and David indulge in Barbara's new voluptuousness and carnal hunger. As her ever-increasing desires begin to overwhelm David's abilities, he searches for a second opinion on the strange pendant and gets advice from a young, traveling, bad-tempered, dark-skinned dancing girl called Yrba who also happens to be witch. Meanwhile, back home alone, another outbreak of multiple expansion hits Barbara as her strange visions once again cross over into her reality. When she wakes the next morning, more than just her most eye-catching attributes have changed …

Part 3:

After David relays his tale of the meeting with the witch, Barbara allows him to hide away the pendant. Barbara’s worries about her husband’s response to her increased voluptuousness prove to be unfounded. As they celebrate their reunion after the days of separation, some of the power fueling Barbara’s transformation is passed on to her husband, enlarging his one already oversized attribute even further while shielding their minds from becoming suspicious.

With David away on his next trip to the city, Barbara attempts to better her standing with her former mistress — and it backfires in ways that the poor young woman never would’ve expected. Weak, drained and more chest-heavy than ever, she staggers home …

Part 4: Beyond The Prize Cow

Obscure inspirational music reference:

“So much larger than life / I’m gonna watch it growing” — Peter Gabriel, Big Time

Chapter 14: Home A-Grown

The sun neared the horizon. Barbara’s shadow reached ahead of her as she staggered along the dusty pair of tracks in the scorching heat of the early evening. Tears fell from her ocean blue eyes and trickled down her narrow cheeks, leaving trails of salt in the layer of powdery earth on her face. Her slender hands clutched the rim of the tattered dirty blanket she kept wrapped around her head and chest. The rough cloth itched on her bare sweaty skin underneath, and each heavy step sent a shockwave of pain through the reddened, dangling, swollen pair of her breasts. Her dress was reduced to a torn and shredded skirt flaring over her wide hips and shapely buttocks, held up by a length of rope around her tapering waist.

She had passed her cart, hidden in the brushes by the roadside, but had given only a glimpse of consideration to dragging it along before clutching the enormous, aching, sagging spheres on her ribcage again. She was glad to be just strong enough to remain upright; to add anything to the load she was now forced to bear was unthinkable.

The crouching shape of the hut made from old pieces of ship wreckage slowly rose over the high grass wavering in the constant wind that blew in from the sea. A few blond strands of Barbara’s long straight hair had snuck out from under the hood and danced in the gusts. The air carried the salty smell of the ocean together with the sound of the waves rolling onto the sickle of the shore beneath the cliffs behind the small building.

The chimney didn’t smoke, and the door was firmly locked. Any hope of her husband having returned early was crushed by that sight. Barbara’s legs trembled despite their alluringly toned, firm and strong appearance. After Menena had milked almost a bucket full of milk and strength from Barbara’s chest the blonde now had to force her feet from the ground just to stagger along the slight downward slope leading from the seldom traveled road to the poor premises she called home.

Barbara reached it with the last few rays of daylight. She stumbled against the wall by the door and sagged to her right knee, her one hand clinging to the doorframe of her hut. With the other hand she dragged the smelly blanket from her shoulders and cast it aside. The chill of evaporating sweat on her skin sent shivers down her spine. With her last strength she turned around and dropped onto her padded buttocks. Barbara rested her aching back against the wall and gazed down, afraid of what might’ve been concealed under the cloth that now lay wrinkled by her side.

Especially from up close, the sight was both beautiful and uncanny. She was beyond bountiful in her chest. Her distended skin shone brighter over the ample padding that filled the two watermelon-sized udders. The outer rim of the breathtaking volume began on her flanks just below her armpits and surged forward in an almost perfect circle only disturbed by the nipples peeking over what from Barbara’s point of view seemed like a far horizon. If she put her shoulders just a bit forward the pair almost touched over her breastbone, but resting exhaustedly against the wall the enormous milk bags hung slightly to her sides and kept their distance from the center, where the skin over her sternum formed not a crevice but a smoothly curved valley. Barbara put her hands under the most plumped part of the two dangling pumpkins and lifted them with wide-spread fingers. Straining skin and pliable mass shaped itself against her palms.

Thank goodness they’re no longer bloated with milk. That cursed weed! I swear, that’s got to be at least another couple of inches I gained this afternoon. Oh my, and Sandy’s gonna gossip to just about everyone that I was daft enough to eat udder weed, if she doesn’t make me into an outright stealing bitch with her tall tales. Why couldn’t I have kept my mouth shut?

The circumference of her massive mammaries’ bases on her ribs ached. Barbara reluctantly touched the reddened, hot skin.

Oh no! I was so full that it’s now all torn and stretched out! And — those are stretch marks up to my collarbones! Can’t leave those boulders hanging, it’ll only get worse. Oh the gods, soft as they feel, I fear they’ll keep on sagging and stretching until they hang down to my knees unless I put them on some kind of support —

Barbara strained upright again, cradling her pair gently. A shiver ran through her body at the sensation of her own arms’ warm embrace. As she moved her thighs, her other lips down below salivated with an audible shlurp.

Mmmh! and they’re so sensitive, I’m dripping yet again. Gods, I’ve been leaking milk and juices all day by the gallons, I’m parched. Need water. Lots of it. Barbara eyed the bucket by the well and frowned. Strange. Why does it feel like I’ve done this before? And why do I feel like I’ll regret drinking it?

Half a bucket later, she slowly calmed down. The water she had pulled up from the well was refreshingly cold and it had done nothing to her but quenched her raging thirst. Barbara stepped inside and raised her buttocks against the workbench by the window, cradling her feminine load with one arm while leaning back and resting the other on the workbench’s top among the few scuffed earthen pots. And what am I going to do now? she mused. Her fingertips fidgeted with something sleek and cool that didn’t belong there. Barbara frowned in surprise and turned to look down.

The pendant’s chain lay wrapped around her fingers.

Come on, she almost heard it, come on, put me on. You’ll feel so much better if you put me on. I’ll help. I’ll make you happy. Mmmh, look at you! Oh, you’re coming along nicely. Come now, put me into that sweet, sweet cleavage, let me rest against your aching skin, let my tender chilly touch ease your pain. Put me on, and feel like the lithe princess again. Come now —!

Barbara grabbed the silvery disk with the sparkling blue stone. Her hand trembled as she raised it to her face. She could have sworn that just for the briefest moment the blue stones had winked at her. Yes, there’s a good girl, whispered something in the back of her head.

She moved quickly and suddenly. Opening the cupboard, throwing the pendant inside, slamming shut the door and staggering away took less than three heartbeats, and yet Barbara panted and trembled as if she’d just wrestled a shark with nothing but her bare hands for a whole hour. Her lips quivered, and she held her gaze on the coarse wooden doors, half expecting them to burst open any second now with the pendant jumping out and wrapping its chain around her throat.

How did it end up in here? It was gone! Hidden! My goodness, it’s haunting me, returning again and again. Dave was right. It’s evil. I must get rid of it, but I won’t touch it again. He must bury it far away, or sink it somewhere far out at sea.

Drenched in cold sweat, Barbara slumped down on the chair by the kitchen table. One after the other she placed her aching pumpkins on the cool wood of the tabletop where the pliable flesh pancaked ever so slightly. Bent over the table, Barbara exhaled in relief. With her elbows on the table and her lower arms angled, her fingertips were just in reach of her nipples, and she caressed the reddened, engorged thimbles and the puffy areolas behind them.

Better. Phew! Oh the gods, they’re sore to the core after what Menena squeezed from me. Need more time to recover. I can’t have her coming over tomorrow to milk them again, they feel as if they’d split wide open if she grabs them just a bit too rough.

Barbara raised her hands and rubbed her forehead gently, trying hard not to cause any swinging or jiggling in the pair of jugs that spread out before her like two loafs of soft dough.

Can’t afford to anger her either. I can’t just be stubborn and refuse. How could I struggle with her anyway? She just needs to grab my breasts, and I’ll fall to her feet, either in pain or begging to be milked again — or both.

I’ll just have to beg and plead and hope there’s still a bit of the Menena from better days in her. She’s right, it’s just a word from her, and it’ll be pitchforks and the bonfire for me.

Tears welled in Barbara’s eyes.

Gods, why me? I never wanted any of this! I just — why does fate do this to me? I never treated anyone wrong, I only ever wanted to get along and live a quiet life.

She hid her face in her hands. The tears came pouring out now. They fell from her palms onto the gently curved domes of her breasts and ran down into the dark crevice of her cleavage as she sobbed quietly.

Oh David, hurry home, I don’t know what to do. I’m aching and worn and weak and I can’t run and hide, not with these anchors tying me down.

Faint moonlight lit the kitchen when Barbara jerked awake again. She felt as if the town’s blacksmith had been pounding away at her temples for hours, holding her whole head in a pair of tongs on his anvil. Her ears rung with a high-pitched noise that was more in her head than on the outside. She rose and regretted it the next moment. Exhaling as pain ignited deep in the now overstretched flesh on her ribs, she quickly lowered herself back down towards the table. The wood, warm from her breasts, took away the strain in her skin again.

Oh the gods, I slept on my own tits. I’m so big now, I’m my own pillows. Barbara sighed. Maybe they’ll shrink again, now that the weed must’ve run its course? Should I have asked Sandy? Talked to Leta? Too late for that now, anyway. Can no longer show my face in the town. She laughed hollowly. The face, maybe. Those bags of milk? No way.

Felt like they’d tear off any moment. Must be gentle with them. Need to cradle them. But I can’t walk around with my arms full all the time. Maybe a loop of cloth around them and tying it up behind my neck? Yes, that should do it. The linen from Dave’s last trip to the city is still in the bedroom. Just need to get there without toppling over.

She lifted her left breast with her right hand, suppressing the delights that her own firm grasp injected into the yielding, malleable bag. Placing the elongated mammary into her left arm’s crook, she moved on and put her right breast into her left palm.

There. Wow, truly the size of watermelons and heavy like a pair of buckets. She wiggled her fingers against the warm load. Mmmh. Feels a lot better than a wooden bucket, though. A tired smile flashed across her face, and she flicked her left thumb against the nipple in its reach. Her eyes bugged and her knees gave way for the briefest moment. “Gods,” she stammered. Oooh — oh my, if that’s what a single touch does, then I’m going to soak myself wrapping up those plump berries of horniness. Can’t help it. Her sad smile returned.

Barbara sat on her haunches and knees, a steaming puddle of her sex’s thick juices between her slightly spread legs. She struggled to force air into her lungs. The strip of linen she had tried to tie around her chest now lay over her trembling thighs, and she swayed in the afterglow of the last mind-blowing climax that had her skin covered in droplets of sweat.

“No way,” she panted. “So delicate! Can’t have the cloth rub against my nipples, not even for another moment, or I’ll pass out.”

Her sharp knife made short work of the coarse linen and left frayed edges. Not bothering with fancy needlework in the nightly gloom of her bedroom, Barbara finished the second circular cut and dropped the blade to the floor. Kneeling by the side of her bed, she laid out the long strip again and stooped over the makeshift wrapper. Her hands held her sore mammaries as she aimed the engorged nipples at the two holes. Barbara bit her lower lip, stifling a lecherous moan as the rough bed sheet made contact. Racing against time as her arousal grew irresistibly with every tremble and shiver that dragged the rough fabric across her nipples’ coarse skin, she grabbed the ends of the strip of cloth, tied a firm knot behind her head and rose slowly, pulling at the durable wrapper and prodding her supple breasts until the linen and her flesh snuggled together cozily. The ripe strawberries that were her reddened, turgid nipples peeked freely through the palm-sized holes, and the only sensation they gave Barbara was a slight chill from the wet coating of leftover milk. Her piling arousal that had threatened to reduce her to an endlessly squirting, moaning, swaying lump of trembling woman flesh waned.

“Oh, finally. That’s not so bad now,” she exhaled relievedly. “Still need to move slowly, they’re malleable enough to slip out if I make a wrong move. At least my hands are free again, and I can walk with no fear of stretching my burdens into a pair of empty sacks dangling beneath my navel.”

Barbara raised her right arm and kneaded her stiff neck. She felt her skin straining across her collarbones and over her shoulders despite her make-do linen brassiere bearing the brunt of the weight.

“Nnngh! Quite a load, even without any milk welling up. And what is it with my head? Now that the horniness is gone, why is it that this throbbing pain just won’t go away? Maybe a little fresh air would do me good.” She rose and walked towards the only door, holding her hands at the ready just inches beneath her spheres that jiggled gently with every careful step. Barbara felt their added off-center weight as an unwelcome extra strain in her lower back. Her gait became surer and steadier as she gained confidence in her makeshift bra.

Straightening herself against the door frame, Barbara slowly opened the front door. A shiver ran up her shanks as the night air crept in around her feet. The sensation leapt across her midriff and landed right in her nipples. The sensitive buds crinkled and hardened, and Barbara gnawed on her lower lip. She blinked, only to find that she saw double now. Some more blinking put her eyesight right again, but the pressure in her head did not go away. If it changed at all, it was only for the stronger. Barbara raised her eyebrows, wrinkled her forehead and stared into the distance.

The ocean was calm this night. Weak glimmers of glowing seas danced on the waves as they rolled ashore. What little surf there was, it didn’t roar tonight but whispered. Barbara raised her right hand to rub across her brow. She didn’t reach her intended target. Just as her hand moved at its quickest, it slammed into her right breast. Clutching her mistreated mammary, Barbara stooped from the sudden, unexpected pain. It faded quickly but left behind a tremble like an overstrained muscle deep in the flesh.

What is this? What is this new feeling? Barbara wondered. Little contractions spread now right under her skin. It didn’t feel like the pressure of milk amassing inside her. It didn’t even feel bad, just somewhat odd. She probingly ran her fingers along the fold where the underside of her breasts changed into her ribcage, and noticed another change. The narrow stretch had hurt just hours before, but now it was as healthy and firm as ever to her touch. Barbara’s own fingertips caused a tickling sensation, and she couldn’t stifle the little chuckle that sent a ripple through her chest’s sensitive volume.

The sound of drums far off in the distance made Barbara rear her head and listen nervously. The more she strained her ears, the more the pounding became louder in her head until she recognized it for her own heartbeat.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Yeah, right. Drums out at sea but not a ship in sight. Can’t be. I’m too tired and strung out. Can’t trust my own senses.”

Barbara rolled her shoulders and moaned. “Ugh! And why did I tie my chest up so tightly with this contraption? A firm fit is nice and all, but I should’ve left a little slack, it feels like my girls are trying to squeeze out through the nipple holes —”

Barbara’s eyes bugged. “The hell—? I left a little slack! Where has it gone — oh no — oh please, no!”

The twitches deep in her breasts grew stronger, and they followed the beat of the drums in her ears. She cupped her heavy pair. Still no pressure of milk. Her flesh was bountiful yet supple in her hands. The only thing firm and tight around it was the linen. Barbara’s fingers found the edge of the cloth. Her naked skin bulged over the rim. She knew she’d slung it only loosely around the upper parts of her orbs.

Boom went the beat in her head, and as it faded with a strange echo, Barbara felt the faint wave of stretching that ran through her breasts. The bulge around the cloth’s rim grew bigger as the linen cut deeper into her tissue. She gasped for air.

Boom.

“They’re not swelling with milk! They’re really growing! But why — gods have mercy! They must be growing because Menena milked them! Because they were drained so much, they want to be ready for the next time!”

Boom.

The cradle of linen held the underside of Barbara’s boobs firmly in place, offering only one escape to their swelling. As she craned her neck, she saw the faint tremble and noticed the slowly rising flesh that grew towards her chin.

Boom.

Barbara groaned, trembling in rapidly increasing arousal as her nipples slipped from their holes, got bent downwards as their bases rose and finally scraped over the edge of the wrapper to freedom, signaling that the upper halves of her milky mountains already had outgrown their prison of cloth. The rim of the linen dug into the circumference of her bodacious breasts.

Boom.

She felt the beginning of a slowly sliding motion in her malleable mammaries. The pounds upon pounds of her udders constantly swelling bigger spilled over the cloth’s rim and dragged along what little had remained inside the cradle. Moments later, Barbara’s desperately grabbing hands overflowed with too much of herself, too much of deliciously malleable, yielding, sensitive, aroused self. The linen was but an empty shawl slung around her ribs beneath the straining areas where her breasts resided on her ribcage, its cloth trapped in the fold of sag that reached halfway around her torso now.

Boom.

Barbara had rested her back against the wall by the door post, but with every drumbeat she felt the pressure of leaning grow weaker. As the pear-shaped twins of sensuousness bulged relentlessly, their massive, off-center weight slowly made her cant forward. Barbara arched backwards, trying to cradle and balance the pair of prize pumpkins. She fought valiantly, maintaining her balance for as long as she could.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Barbara’s heartbeat raced now, and her growth raced along with it. Sweaty and slippery, her breasts’ skin rubbed against her arms as they stretched larger and swelled higher.

“They’re so big I can barely reach around them anymore!” groaned Barbara. “And — so heavy — can’t hold them up any longer — if only David were here —”

“Heavens, Dave, help me!” she gargled, alone in the nightly darkness of the small hut. The constantly increasing weight of her ballooning breasts dragged her forward until the huge orbs flopped down onto the table. Barbara held her arms around the massive spheres crowned by thumb-sized nipples, trying to keep her new assets from stretching and pancaking too far. As she moved her legs, more sensations that had been fighting for her attention finally registered in her mind.

On her other end, her widening hips struggled against her dress. Cloth spanned over bulging buttocks. Barbara groaned as her cheeks were compressed by the durable fabric, squeezing against her plumping labia and almost forcing the reddened flesh into her womb. Finally, just as the pressure and strain of the rough garment holding back her burgeoning rear seemed unbearable, Barbara heard the screeches of ripping cloth, and her new, rounder, curvier buttocks swelled out of the torn skirt. Its twin bulges separated. Reaching from the onset of her ass at her lower back, down between her legs, and right up to her pubes, the widening crevice turned into a chilly strait of skin covered with evaporating sweat. Without the pressure of her buttocks, the soaked plump hairy lips between her legs pouted and parted, letting her wrinkled inner labia spill out again.

The quivers and cramps of growing and stretching slowed as the booming of Barbara’s heartbeat subsided. The thunder in her head gave way to the ordinary noises of night from the outside. She stooped and sagged down on her taut, aching pumpkins, struggling for air, pinching her eyelids shut to hold back the tears of fear and desperation, her every nerve and fibre trembling.

Barbara opened her eyes wide and froze. The taste of salt filled her mouth.

Warmth spread over her arms, and it came from deep within her breasts. Their skin rippled faintly while they rose before Barbara’s eyes like leavened dough, losing their flattened shape and rounding out due to the ever-increasing inner pressure. Ducts stretched and swelled with milk as her glands stockpiled pint upon pint of nurturing liquid into the enormous bags.

“No! No more! It’s too much!” she sobbed. Barbara raised her head to the sky, tears streaming down over her cheeks. She struggled and pulled, but her strength was no match for the combined weight of milk and flesh. She was helplessly tied to the table now, her clothes in shambles, just barely held together by the rope around her waist. All she managed to do was to drag up the chair by the tips of her toes, so at least she didn’t need to kneel in front of the swollen sacks of her own breasts that now stretched almost across the narrow side of the table, a yard long and half a yard high. As the noises of milk squeezing into the spongy tissue of Barbara’s udders finally died down, the faint drip drip drip of liquid trickling from her pinkie-sized teats remained the only sound.

When Menena sees this, she’ll milk me more. And then they’ll grow even more! I need to get some of that out of me, need to —

Barbara put her fingers on the huge sacks of her breasts and tried squeezing some of the warm, fresh supply towards the nipples.

Not a second later, she held her hands well out of reach of her breasts with her arms stretched out sideways, shaking and trembling as agony crushed her guts. The tendons in her neck dragged down the corners of her mouth.

— Gods! My areola, as if they’d burst! The faintest motion — I’m all bloated inside — I can’t squeeze it out, they’re so ungodly huge, I can’t even reach the right places, I’ll just tear something if I keep pushing it.

She bit her lower lip.

I must be milked or I come apart! I must have this load drawn from me or I’ll burst!

Her eyes bugged as realization hit her.

Oh no — I’m Menena’s cow for good.

Chapter 15: Hands Of An Expert

“Hey, cow! You ready?” Menena’s yell effortlessly made it through the walls of Barbara’s hut. The young woman jerked awake. Late morning light crept through the gap between the door and its frame. The hoofbeats of Menena’s horse slowed down, and soon Barbara heard her rummaging about at the well, and the creaking of the pulley.

“Oh please, hurry up and milk me,” moaned Barbara, tied to the immovable weight of her sack-sized, overfilled breasts that rested on the groaning kitchen table.

“And how!” answered the shopkeeper from the outside. “Oh, I really hope you’ve got some more of your sweet, sweet milk, because that meager bucket you squirted yesterday barely lasted me until midnight! Mmmh, and I slept like a baby afterwards, no sickness, not even a wrong burp. Oh yes, you’re my prize cow!”

Menena kicked open the door, carrying two buckets of water in her hands and two pairs of empty leather bags roped together over her shoulders. She froze in the frame. Before her eyes, Barbara lay halfway over the kitchen table, her slender, naked torso resting halfway inside the valley between two taut pillows that shone like the finest silk. The shopkeeper’s eyes traced their curve. Menena hesitated and blinked in disbelief for a moment when she recognized the palm-sized darker patches for the areolae and therefore the pair of huge pillows for Barbara’s breasts.

“Might need bigger bags,” Menena gulped, but moments later, she was as lofty as they come. “Here,” she groaned as she lifted the water buckets on the tabletop. “Don’t want my precious cow to die of thirst. This’ll help you fill up again later. Now let’s see what’s on the table.”

Menena smiled and smacked her lips with relish, and her green eyes sparkled with greed. “Gee, I can hardly believe how huge you are now! There must be gallons waiting for me. I’ll never again drink or eat anything but your delicious milk. Oh, just you wait, my sweet pair of udders; I have a special treat for you today.” She took a small flask from her belt and pulled out the plug.

“What are you giving me those frightened looks for, eh? Oh, you’ll like it! This mixture of soothing weeds and fat, it’s marvelous for straining skin,” grinned Menena. “Y’know, only the best for my prize cow. I wouldn’t treat you with anything less than what I use myself.” She pulled down the rim of her tight bodice and let her own pair hang out. Menena’s chest was a glorious sight to behold. As she leaned forward, her mammaries no longer rested against her ribcage but swung freely. They had their biggest diameter just off her body, and the huge pale pears ended in big nipples on domed dark areola.

She cupped one orb and lifted it gently. The malleable volume bulged over her widespread fingers. “See? Firm yet soft, and neither stretch mark nor wrinkle on the skin. Takes half an hour each day, rubbing the ointment into them, but it’s so very worth it. And if you behave, next time I might even feed you, not just water you.”

Menena turned the flask upside down, and slowly a ropey liquid pooled in her palm. Rubbing her hands, she spread a copious helping of the ointment until her fingers glistening with slippery wetness. Then she leaned over the table and used the rest of the thick fluid oozing out to draw a long spiral on Barbara’s vast expanse of breasts.

“Ooh, doesn’t it look as if your Davey-darling blew his load all over you? Let me rub it in now —”

The raven’s greasy fingertips traced huge circles on the barely yielding mountains of flesh on the table. As soon as the thick string of lube was spread far enough, she switched to using all of her hands, running them along the sides and across Barbara’s painfully hard and crinkled nipples. Time and again, Menena placed her glistening hands flat against Barbara’s collarbones and, pressing down harder, drew them towards the domed areola that rewarded her ministrations with a visible swelling that slowly receded as soon as the shopkeeper lifted her hands to begin the next stroke.

“So — much milk — squeezing — my nipples!” moaned Barbara, her hands clutched around the side edges of the table. Her breasts’ glistening skin was flushed and warm all over, and she felt how the taut container relaxed with the oil slowly being taken in. There was none of the pain that her own desperate attempt had yielded. Menena’s experienced fingers promised a long-lasting, thorough relief.

“I sure hope so,” Menena smiled greedily. “And doesn’t it feel nice, being rubbed by gentle, slippery hands, eh?”

“Oh the gods, yes!” exclaimed Barbara, only to almost choke on her own words.

“Uh—huh? So after years and years of honing my skills on myself it all comes down to making the homewrecker feel nice?” She slapped the quivering expanse of rosy skin, only to soothe the reddening spot with slowly circling strokes. “No, no, no. Oh, I almost forgot. Hush, my darlings. Momma’s not going to hurt you. You’re my heifer now. No need to feel ashamed, you know? Only the best for you, because a happy cow is a generous cow. And it’s high time for you to be generous now, generous by the gallons. Let’s start with that one here —”

She focused on Barbara’s left breast, working her one flat hand into the foot-deep cleavage and trapping the barely malleable bag between her splayed fingers. “My goodness, it’s so massive, it’s like trying to wrestle a fattened sow!” gasped Menena. She squeezed from both sides and felt liquid moving under her palms as she dragged her hands slowly towards the reddened nipple. “And would you look at that, a goat’s teat on a cow’s udder, who would’ve thought,” winked Menena. Her fingers closed around the elongated, rough protrusion and moved in little jerking motions.

“Hm, quite impressive, the way your nipples are swelling now. You’re close to overflowing, aren’t you? Here, let me put the bag in place, I don’t want to have my clothes sprayed with your milk.” Menena slipped one hand under the warm mountain, kneading the taut skin. Her other hand grabbed the first of the pair of leather bags and held the funnel-like opening over the engorged teat. “There now, just let go,” she smiled and moved her fingers in milking waves against the deep texture of glands and overfilled ducts she felt in her grip.

“What’s the matter, cow? Not giving milk today?” Menena kneaded the warm flesh impatiently. “After all that tender care? That won’t do! I can feel it sloshing about in your sacks, so let down! Really, who told you you’d have a say in those matters? If you’re so stubborn, I still do have a bundle of Milkmaid’s Friend that I can stuff down your gullet, y’know?”

“Eek!” Barbara squeaked. “I’m — all clogged, gods! Don’t squeeze so hard! It’s just not coming, it’s not my fault, I need to — must — help me…”

“Uh-huh? Let’s see now.”

Menena knelt down before the obstinate nipple. Her hands reached beneath the pliable orb and lifted its front to her face. Her lips pouted, she opened her mouth, her warm breath crept over Barbara’s skin. Menena’s pink tongue flicked against the rough cylinder that had reached the size of her own forefinger.

“Mene— gods, that’s sick!” gasped the helpless, swollen blonde.

“Mmmh?” mumbled the shopkeeper. Her tongue wetted the circle of her lips before she sucked up Barbara’s bloated areola. She chewed ever so slightly, just pressing her lips together. Trembling and faint twitching spread from the saliva-coated dome out into Barbara’s excessive flesh.

“Oh yes,” moaned the young woman as her teats finally opened up in Menena’s deft grip, the milk spraying out painting the inside of the suckling mouth with white deliciousness.

“Og myeff,” gargled Barbara’s fiendish milkmaid, pulling and squeezing stronger as the fat nipples hardened and swelled more. She drew a couple of huge gulps, then she pinched the aroused flesh playfully at its root and pulled the glistening nipple from her pouted lips. Barbara winced, and Menena smiled contentedly. She poked a finger into the yielding sphere before her and laughed. “You’re turning into a real cow, you know? Just like you deserve it. See, your milk doesn’t spray all over the place any more, now it comes out through one fat hole in your enormous teats. And they’re just the right shape and size for my hands.”

“Hhuuhhh — huuuuhhh — hhhuunnhh.”

Psssshhh — pssshhh — pssshhh.

Barbara’s breathing came in time with the hissing of milk into the funnel. Every now and then, Menena’s hands left the spewing teat-nipple and stroked the vast expanse to squeeze more of the sticky-sweet produce from the soaked flesh into the doming areola. Her fingers kept on draining squirt after copious squirt from the overflowing udder, and the leather bag she aimed the thick spurts into bloated steadily while Menena’s grin widened.

Menena sighed happily and paused. She laid her head onto the softening pillow of Barbara’s right breast.

“Mmmmh, such a nice rest. So warm and big and fluffy.” She forced her hands under the flattened orb and cuddled the pliable breast with both arms. “Y’know, once Dave’s back with me, maybe I’ll let you live in my bedroom. You could be the nicest pair of pillows for us, breakfast included. Much better than becoming bonfire steak, don’t you agree? And if they grow some more, you’d make a very comfortable bed. Yes, maybe I’ll order a whole bag of Milkmaid’s Friend the next time a trader comes by. Something for you to chew on. Would you like that? Wouldn’t you love for your breasts to swell huge for me, cow? Just imagine, me splayed under my David, his giant cock pounding away into me, the two of us right on top of your silky-soft, bed-sized, milk-engorged breasts.”

“W—whatever you say,” groaned Barbara. “More — draw out more of my milk! Drain me! Oh the gods, I’m still so full —”

“Yes, I can feel it. I can hear it, I can hear your breast bubbling and groaning, filling up again,” laughed Menena. She squeezed the sack of glands with both arms. Barbara squeaked in surprise. Her nipple twitched skywards as it bulged with dammed-up milk.

“My goodness, still stretching and swelling?” smirked Menena as she pinched the teat at its root. She slipped the reddened cylinder the size of a below-average dick in between her pouted lips and took away just enough of her fingers’ pressure to let a thick spurt of milk fill her cheeks with the freshest, tastiest serving she’d ever swallowed. She pulled the glistening flesh tube out with a shplop and gulped down the ample mouthful, smacking her lips afterwards.

“Oh yes, you’ll be such a nice addition to my furniture. There’s just no competition any more, or do you really think your lovey-dovey Davey-darling will pick a pair of udders over a woman he can still be seen with in daylight?” She laughed wickedly, even louder when she saw the pain and tears in Barbara’s eyes. Her hands closed around Barbara’s nipples and continued their milking.

“My, look at that!” she added. “Seems an unhappy cow gives milk just as easily as a happy one.”

“Saaay…”

The warm, relieving fingers let go of Barbara’s teats again.

“No, don’t stop! Don’t stop! Need to — to spend,” moaned Menena’s helpless slave with closed eyes. Long threads of liquid fell from her wooden chair’s edge, and her crotch and buttocks swam in the slippery juices of her engorged vulva as her glowing innards slowly burped up gob upon gob of her own warm, salty lube.

Jingle. And suddenly Barbara’s eyes were wide open again. Menena stood at the small askew cupboard, and something sparkled in the palm of her hand.

“I knew I saw a twinkle in there. So what have we got here? You don’t deserve such trinkets, cow,” snarled Menena as she let the silver chain of the pendant run through her fingers. “Cows don’t need jewelry, right?” She opened the clasp and raised the ends of the chain to her neck. “Keeping such riches hidden would’ve sent you to jail. Hah! Just another thing to keep you in line, eh, peasant? Don’t you worry, nobody’s going to find it in your hut, because that locket is mine now.”

“Menena, don’t,” squealed the blonde, squirming helplessly on the table. Her breasts were too full to move, still too full even after almost a bucket’s worth of rich, warm milk had been drained from them. Barbara tried to rise and pushed her hands against the tabletop, but the strain and pain in her enormous breasts’ delicate skin was too much to bear. She flopped down on her swollen orbs again.

“Menena, don’t put it on! It’ll turn you into a cow, too! It’ll make you swell like me!” she wailed.

Barbara’s hands covered her mouth as if to hold back her words, but far too late. Menena hesitated, and finally she lowered the bewitched pendant.

“Makes you swell,” the raven pondered and scratched her chin. Slowly, she turned to face Barbara. Her smile dripped with evil as she gloated down on the helpless girl.

“So that’s the big secret. Tell me, cow, if it makes your delicious milk bags swell, then why aren’t you wearing it right now?” she snarled all of a sudden. The pendant jingled to the floor, and before Barbara could react Menena stood behind her. The shopkeeper’s strong hands pulled Barbara’s wrists behind her back and tied them up.

“Menena,” whimpered the helpless young woman, her voice muffled as she was forced to stoop with her face pressed into her own cleavage, “please, don’t do th—”

Menena’s fingers circled Barbara’s neck. The clasp clicked shut. The cold metal came to a rest just over the dark chasm between Barbara’s breasts, and then Menena grabbed it and pushed it deep into the abyss of flesh. Immediately, warmth spread out through the huge masses, and an anxious gasp escaped Barb’s lips.

“My, look at the time, it’s past noon already. Sure flies if you’re having fun, doesn’t it? See you tomorrow.” Menena laughed as she grabbed the taut leather bottles, threw the rope between them over her shoulders and danced through the doorframe. Her fingers wandered from one bulging bottle to the next.

“One for the road, two for the afternoon, one for the night. My, there’s no way I could even begin to stock up with this meager harvest. Well, if your locket is as good as you seem to fear, then I’ll better bring eight bottles and plenty of time tomorrow, cow!”

Barbara struggled desperately, but she couldn’t even get to her feet. Despite their toned and sturdy appearance, her legs felt weak and scrawny compared to the mammoth expanse of flesh in front of her, and her tied-back arms ached and kept her from getting any kind of leverage at all, punishing every wrong move with a dagger of pain into her shoulder blades. The pendant’s unearthly heat encompassed all of her upper body now. Tiny drops of sweat formed on her skin. Whatever it was that it would do to her this time, it began now, unstoppable like the incoming tide.

Quivering started in Barbara’s breasts. Thirst made her mouth dry. Crying and unable to fight, she struggled along the table. Barbara dunked her head into the first bucket and guzzled down the gallons. It cooled the burning in her belly, but all the while, she felt how barely a tenth of what she swallowed really made it to her stomach. Most of it seemed to vaporize on its way down her throat only to materialize as a chilly wave of new volume spreading from behind her breastbone and stretching her bags even more. The pendant stuck like a glowing ember between her swelling globes, its power radiating into the helpless young woman’s body while the afternoon slowly changed into night.

Chapter 16: Showdown By Morning Light

The buckets were empty and lay toppled on the floor. Barbara’s head lolled on the yielding, swaying expanse of swollen flesh. The pain in her bent shoulders had subsided to a numb ache, and the pendant’s heat spreading through her body was now a bearable, even pleasant, warmth.

Barbara hadn’t moved at all through the night, trapped in a state that was less sleep than unconsciousness brought about by exhaustion, until finally the light of morning tickled her nose. She stirred awake and couldn’t remember how she’d managed to doze off. Moaning, she licked her lips to clean a little of her involuntary drool from her cleavage and cast a few glances around.

“Grown bigger again. And it’s morning already. Dave’s going to come back soon. He’ll free me.”

Her back-tied hands, tickling with pent-up blood from the taut rope around her wrists, touched her buttocks. Her new, firmer, tauter, bigger buttocks. They, too, had gained a good extra chunk of fleshiness. Her fingertips traced the round bulges. There was little else she could do with her incapacitated hands. First by accident, but soon by intent, her middle finger slid up and down the crevice of her butt, still lubed with the copious glazing of her pussy’s bitter honey —

“Mmmh. Round and taut — just need to angle my hand a bit more, and I can slip my fingers deep into —”

Barbara frowned.

No! Need to keep my mind together! Can’t finger myself! Can’t wait for Dave! Can’t wait another moment! Must — get — pendant — off, sparked through her mind. She clenched her teeth and twisted her wrists.

“The rope — it’s not as tight as before!”

Barbara tensed her shoulders, her arms. Her tired and over-stretched muscles trembled.

“Gnnnnaahhh! Gods, once, just once —”

Something behind her back creaked, and Barb prayed it was the rope and not her wrists. Tendons showed in the crook of her arms, and her biceps bulged. Strands of hemp snapped apart.

“RaaaaAAAAHHH!” echoed her angry holler out across the sea.

Snap.

Her arms liberated, Barbara sagged forward.

“Next. Standing up.” Barbara looked at the two elongated spheres of milk and flesh projecting from her chest, each the size and weight of her own torso. “Any which way I can,” she sighed.

Grunting and groaning, she arched her back and shuffled her feet beneath the table under her new center of weight. Her thighs trembled, and her knees felt as if they’d burst any moment, but the pull on her ribs finally reached an equilibrium with the drag of weight trapped in her breasts. She sensed the retreating touch of the table on the underside of her boobs until the humongous pair of milk-swollen ovoids finally swung free, supported only by the trembling twig that was Barbara’s body.

“I’m standing! I’m standing on my own feet! I can move again!”

Cradling barely a third of the bags on her chest, Barbara took a step backwards and learned in a moment of wide-eyed fright that her balance was way off. She needed two fast, short, clumsy steps until she managed to hold back the monstrous momentum of her overfilled chest. The chair behind her struck into the back of her knees and toppled. The pull on her spine was immense. Barbara’s muscles tired rapidly. All the while she felt her glands’ slow throbbing as they produced droplet after droplet of milk and stowed it in her ever-stretching ducts.

“The pendant! Need — to get it off! It’s filling me still!”

She leaned and shifted desperately, freeing her right arm to reach over her head and grapple for the pendant’s thin chain running across the back of her neck.

“Come on, come on, come on!”

The chain got caught in her hair and ripped out a few strands as she pulled it frantically over her head. Her fingers closed around the disc that still held the warmth from her deep cleavage. She only hesitated for a moment, then cast it away to the far end of the kitchen. It clanged against the loam wall and jingled to the floor. Barbara exhaled in relief. A shiver ran across her skin.

Another shiver. That one started in her legs. Her knees grew wobbly.

“What now — Gods!”

The weight on her chest multiplied. Barbara corralled as much of her swollen flesh as she could. Her skin didn’t stretch, the massive orbs didn’t increase their breathtaking bulk.

There was only one explanation.

“— I’m not growing bigger — I’m growing weaker! No! NOOOO!”

Tendons on her neck showed as she struggled with gnashed teeth against the merciless pull of gravity on the pair of milk barrels jutting from her ribs. The kitchen spun forward, her inflated nipples connected painfully with the tabletop, then the rest of her mams came crashing down in an avalanche of malleable flesh on the wooden piece of furniture that no longer had any resistance to offer against their weighty assault. The tabletop cracked right through the middle. Barbara in tow, the pair of heavy bags sloshed on down to the floor.

Barbara was thrown about on her own breasts like a tiny ship on the enraged ocean. She undulated up and down almost a dozen times until all of the momentum was finally consumed. Face down on the pillows of her own body, she dug her fingers into her hair and wailed, “Gods, what have I done? What have I done?!”

The pendant glittered in the twilight of the far corner, way out of reach of Barbara’s desperately grabbing fingers.

Barely half an hour had passed when Dave’s voice silenced the morning birds’ calling in the bushes outside.

“Barbara? Barbara, wake up! I sailed the night through, just to get back to you! Oh, it’s just incredible, they’re paying thrice now for fresh fish! We don’t need Menena’s goodwill anymore! We’ll wear the finest clothes!”

He opened the door and froze. A pair of white sacks, stuffed and taut and immovably huge, rested on the flattened planks of the destroyed kitchen table, and on top of that pair half-lay, half-knelt his beloved wife, face down; her well-defined tapering back widening into alluring hips and meaty, luscious buttocks, and they quivered as her narrow shoulders shook to her desperate sobbing. White rivulets emerged from under the bulging orbs, and the room smelled of fresh, sweet milk.

“Barbara?” David was down on his knees in a heartbeat and caressed her cheeks as he gently lifted her head. “Oh Barbara, what happened?”

“Menena,” wailed Barbara. “It was — Menena, she did this to me. G—gave me cow weed. Milked me so hard, it made me grow again. Stuffed the pendant between my tits. Made me drink so much. Unnngh! I’m so full, Dave, m—milk, Dave, so much milk in me! Too — much! Gods, Dave, milk me! Milk me, or I’ll burst for sure! Dave!”

He worked his hands into the warm cave underneath Barbara’s one breast, pulling and prodding the overfilled flesh gently, until he managed to reach the tightly sealed bubble of milk that had formed under the soft mountain around Barbara’s leaking nipple. His fingers felt around in the warm darkness while the pressurized liquid whizzed out around his arms.

“These here?” he asked incredulously. The skin he touched was rough and firm, surely fit for a nipple if he ever felt one, but the sheer size of it! His hand closed around something that was two thumbs wide but almost four inches long. He squeezed it with gentle milking motions, and a thick stream of hot, fresh milk washed out of the single gaping hole at each tip.

“Oh yes, oh dear gods, yes,” moaned his wife as the unbearable pressure was finally vented.

David knelt on elbows and knees in front of his wife, his lower arms buried under the warm orbs of Barbara’s breasts. His hands clutched her huge nipples, and his fingers pulled and squeezed in long milking strokes. Veils of milk broke forth from underneath the slowly shrinking mammaries and washed all over the floor. The pale white brook ran out through the door and worked its way along the side of the footpath towards the cliff.

Their faces were mere inches apart. Barbara panted in relief, her eyelids half closed, her soft lips pouting. As her breasts’ promontory deflated gradually, she sagged forward some more. David’s forehead touched hers, and moments later, their lips met.

“Gods, David — mmmh — what are we — mmmwah — going to do?” she stammered between their hungry kisses.

“Don’t — mwah — don’t know — uuunh! — Mmwah — Barb,” he replied, merely following her eager smooching.

Barbara leaned heavier on her own breasts and grabbed David’s head. Her nipples erupted more violently as she grew wetter between her legs.

“Milk me — you’re the one — my milkman, my only — your hands, only your hands — aaaahhh!” She bucked and pulled him forward. David lost his balance and fell on top of the warm pillows of Barbara’s breasts. His hands never left her nipples that had hardened even more.

“Barbara, we can’t — not right now!” he protested faintly as she dragged him closer and fondled blindly for his belt.

“Can’t think straight when I need to be bred!” she replied, panting in heat. “Gimme your spear, gimme all of it! Think later! Must — have it now!” Her fingers found the thick rod, already half hard, and pulled it out. “The gods, it’s so big! I want to feel it — there!”

With one hand on the root of David’s reptile and the other right behind the glans that threatened to spread her grip apart as it swelled she aimed the long trunk at the sweat-lubed cleft of her breasts. Her quivering mams enclosed David’s throbbing erection with a soft and yielding sheath, and Barbara squeezed them together with her arms.

“Gods, Barbara —!” groaned David, rearing up and letting go of her nipples as she reached for his hips and moved him back and forth in the black abyss of slippery warmth. Barbara smiled, sensing every bulging vein in his manhood as it rubbed against the sensitive skin of her cleavage. Her breasts shook and trembled as she guided his accelerating humping.

“Bar — ba — raaah!” he exclaimed. The thick head pulsed right against her breastbone and the upward curve of David’s erection put the gaping hole in his glans just beneath the funnel shape of Barbara’s bosom. His thick spurts flooded the tight gap in an instant, rising up and filling Barbara’s cleavage from the bottom up like white lava rising inside a deep valley. David thrust and shook in the entrapment of her breasts, spending his seed in amounts far beyond what he’d thought possible. Barbara’s cleavage finally overflowed with his thick sticky juices. They oozed hot and clingy over the crater lake between her breasts and ran down along his legs until they finally mingled with the river of milk on the floor, and still David wasn’t done. The touch of Barbara’s breasts kept his rod hard and him squirming and squirting. It wasn’t until minutes later that his spurts became smaller and the sperm much thinner.

David freed himself from the entrapment of his wife’s vampiric cleavage and sagged back onto his haunches.

“Oh the gods, Barbara, you must’ve drawn years of my seed from me,” he panted, wiping sweat from his face. “Look at you! Your breasts, they’re glazed.”

Barbara eyed him lovingly while she rubbed the copious ointment of her husband’s loins into the skin of her breasts. “Oh my love, you don’t look drained at all! Goodness, you’re a pillar of health! Mmmh. And I’m quite a bit calmer now.”

David’s breath calmed down, too. He frowned as he raised his right hand and turned it before his eyes. “You’re right. Not a tremble now, could’ve sworn I was shaking from exhaustion just moments ago.” He gulped. “This is all so wrong —”

“You’re telling me! I’m so big, I can’t even move anymore!” Barbara slapped and pulled at the pair of yard-long sacks growing out of her chest. “There’s so much I need to tell you, so many things happened. Firstly though, David, look over there, you must hand me the pendant, it’s the only way —”

He looked over his shoulder at the faint blue light that illuminated the far corner of the room, and shook his head.

“Barbara, are you sick in the head? Look at you! Look at what it’s done to you!” He struggled over on hands and knees and warily picked up the silver disk by the farthest end of its chain. “I should’ve cast it into the deepest depths, that cursed thing!”

“No, Dave!” Barbara groped desperately towards the sparkling silver. “Give it back to me, I need its power! The gods, David! Menena, she’s about to — we must — David, give me the pendant!”

“I will not, Barb!” He shook his head and lowered the palm-sized plate with the huge blue stone onto a piece of cloth, wrapping it up carefully. “For your sake, I’ll make sure this thing won’t bother us ever again!”

“David, are you deaf? I need it! It’s giving me strength! We don’t have time to argue about this, it’s morning already! If I put it on, I’ll be able to get up and walk again, I know it!”

“Uh—huh?” He clambered to his feet and stood akimbo. “All of a sudden, you know those things? That’s all I needed to hear!” His forefinger shot towards her. “You’re not my Barbara, you’re this cursed thing talking out of her mouth! You won’t keep your claws in my wife, thing! D’you hear me? If it takes the rest of my days, I won’t have my love suffer under your evil whisperings and machinations!” He stormed outside.

“No, David! You don’t understand!” she screamed after him. “Oh please, David! If we don’t run right now, Menena’s going to —”

When David returned minutes later, his hands were empty.

“Heavens, David!” screeched Barbara. “What have you done? We don’t have time! Give me back the pendant!”

He sat down by her side and held her frantically fidgeting hands by her wrists. “Shhh, love. It’s gone. Calm down, its evil won’t whisper to you anymore. Just let it go. Barbara, please come back to me.”

Barbara’s heavy and agitated breathing became shallower until she exhaled deeply and raised her head to her husband’s worried face. She gulped and gently freed herself from his grasp, dragging her gigantic bosom a bit more upright as she tried to lean back onto her haunches. Barbara bashfully wiped a few tears from her cheeks.

“I’m good again, David. Don’t worry. It’s just — these last two days, it’s all — it’s all just a bit much —”

Her whisper turned into a hysterical giggle. “Heh — a bit — gnnnhhii — a — bit — much —” Barbara’s hands pulled at her own immensely distended chest. “Much! — Haaah! Hiiih—”

“What is it now?” he asked as Barbara suddenly fell silent, canted her head and narrowed her eyes.

“I hear someone on horseback,” she gasped. Her eyes widened in fear. “Oh the gods! It’s too late! Menena! She’s coming!”

The dulled thumping of hoofbeats on high grass grew louder and slowed down until it stopped, right in front of the hut.

“Cow? Did I leave the door open, cow?” came Menena’s voice from the outside. “Or is it my long lost —”

Her voice changed into a giddy girl’s squeaking as she screamed, “David!”

The door flew open. Menena burst into the room and threw herself at David, intercepting him halfway through his rising motion. He staggered back, both by surprise and by the shopkeeper’s momentum.

“David, I’m so sorry,” Menena sobbed, clutching his chest, rising to her toe tips and showering his face with sloppy kisses. “I did you wrong, so very wrong. I thought you’d left me, when it was that witch’s doing all along! Now that she has her punishment, I’ll make things right again, I’ll tell all the town it wasn’t your fault and that you’ve never, ever, mistreated me! Oh, you’ll have the life! You’ll never have to work again, and we’ll fuck every night, I’ll be all you’ll ever want, I’ll take every last inch, I’ll never let you go again!”

He struggled free and grabbed her shoulders, holding her at arm’s length. “Menena! Have you lost your mind? I told you. It was you. You’re bossy, you’re mean, I’m only sorry I didn’t see it before. Look at what you did to my wife, you cold-blooded — you heartless — you — I don’t have words for you!”

He pushed her away. She stumbled for a few steps, then regained her balance, put her hands to her hips and leaned forward.

“Your wife?!” screeched Menena. “Have you looked at her? That — that thing can’t be your wife! We can keep her for the milk, and I wouldn’t even mind if you want to have your way with her every now and then, because really, what else is she good for, but the only wife you’ll ever have is right in front of you! You’re mine!” She raised and opened her arms. “Come here, David —”

He straightened and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down on her.

“Barbara and me, we’re married, Menena. Nothing you say or do will change that!”

“No!” shrieked the raven, backing away. “Stop saying that! A man can’t be married to an obscenity!” Her finger pointed sideways at the pile of breasts that was Barbara.

“Of your doing!” the blonde barked back.

“So what?!” Menena hissed over her shoulder. “You deserved every single inch of that, you wannabe witch! Shut up, you treacherous abomination! You piece of furniture!”

Menena turned back and wrung her hands at the tall and handsome man that all of her womb desired. Her voice begged and pleaded. “David, come back to me! Look at her! Look at that disgusting thing, that ugly contraption of a pair of cow’s udders, a twig and a horse’s ass! Where’s the woman in that? She’s just two sacks of milk and a pair of holes to ride! I promise, I’ll let you keep her, if you so desire. Just imagine, she’ll be our bed, the biggest and softest bed in the whole shire, I made preparations —”

“Get. Out.”

A bird’s twitter from the outside rang through the sudden silence.

“Get out?” repeated Menena. Her heavy breathing grew faster.

“Get out?!” she howled as realization set in. “Are you bewitched? Has she struck you blind? No? You can see her for the ugly hag she is, can you not? And still you pick her — over me?! Her? This — this can’t — that’s not happening! How dare you do this — ”

“Because I love her,” David stated calmly, smiling at Barbara.

“Love? Love?!” screamed the raven, throwing her hands in the air. “Oh, that’s rich! My very own miracle cock talks about love!”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand,” sighed Dave, turning his back on her. He took a long step towards his wife, knelt down by her side and caressed her cheek, brushing her tears away with his thumb.

Menena stood frozen, watching David as he comforted Barbara. The shopkeeper’s hands slowly clenched into fists while her incredulous and dejected countenance transformed into a grimace of hate.

“Oh whatever,” she finally sneered. “Just look at the lovely couple, a boy and his cow. And you, David! If being a cowboy is all you want to be, then fine! See where it’ll take you in the end! I dreamed of you, night after night! I wanted to make us mayor and wife! How could I have been so daft to obsess over you for months! What a waste of time! Now I see that all you’re looking for in a woman is bloat. Ugh! You sicken me. Even if my fingers remain the only delight for the rest of my life, I’ll gladly take that over your — your diseased dick and all the rottenness this whore must’ve spread over your skin! Being shunned for a bloated blond bladder of milk! I’ve never been insulted like this in my whole life!”

“You better go, now,” snarled Dave, “or I might tell the city’s bailiff about your herbs and poisons.”

“No,” sobbed Barbara, hiding her face in her hands. “They’ll come and stare at me if you do, or worse! Just make her go away.”

“Don’t bother, I’m leaving,” hissed Menena, her upper lip curling from her gnashed teeth in disgust. “Only because I want to, not because you could ever make me! I’ll give you a day and a night to think about your place, you two. You thought me cruel? Oh, you haven’t seen the first of it, and you should be thankful for that. And you’re poor and your fabled city bailiff is far away, remember this. So when you’re done with this sick travesty of your so-called love I expect the two of you to beg forgiveness for your unfaithfulness, oh, and will you ever have to beg and grovel after this insult! You’ll crawl and beg for the mercy of just kissing my feet!” Her hair flew as she spun around.

Menena stopped abruptly in the door frame. She licked her lips as she looked over her shoulder. Slowly, her sneer changed into a crooked smile that was all the more frightening. “Y’know, there might be ways you could placate me, David. A little, at least. Think about that. In case you don’t know what to do with all of her wonderful milk, I might be more amenable if I come back and there are a few buckets waiting by the door. Maybe I’ll just make you my servant then instead of my slave.

“Uh—uh—uh,” she added as David reared in anger. Her condescending smile grew wider as she raised her forefinger and glared up at him. “What d’you think you’re doing? Strike me down? Oh please, you peon. Do you think people don’t know where I went? Just look at you poor wife. Who will take care of her if you go to the gallows? No, you’ll behave, David! If I say kneel then you’ll kneel and you’ll like it!”

She picked up the bundle of leather bags she’d dropped by the door and threw them at David’s feet.

“Here. When I return, I want all of them bulging with her milk, and then you’ll follow me into the town, so you better make it a good milking! It’ll be the last chance for you to squeeze and drain the udders of that precious cow you’re so in love with —”

“Out!”

“A day and a night! I’ll be back tomorrow morning, and you had better lost that attitude by then! Either you’ll bow and scrape, or so help me, I’ll see you both burn,” she snapped back before she slammed the door shut. Outside, she burst out, “What a cow!” Her hysterical cackling echoed on for quite a while over her horse’s fading hoofbeats.

To be continued in Part 5: The Final Night

Will Barbara and Dave escape in time? Will she ever be able to walk again? Or will she grow bigger still? Right, silly question, that. Or Is It?

Note: This information and the URLs are current as of June 2012.

Abridged version:

1) I like feedback. You like reading. You give feedback, I might write more stories. Deal?

2) Go there: http://overflowingbra.com/results.htm?varname=553

3) Look for title: “Siren Song - Part 4”

4) Press: “Rate me” (top left of corresponding story box).

5) “5” is like super-good. “1” is like “teh suxx.”

6) Thanks a lot!

Not-so-abridged version:

Of course I don’t know where you’ve found this story you just finished reading, so bear with me for a few seconds.

I originally uploaded it to a rather obscure fetish website called The Overflowing Bra, and you can leave comments and rate stories there. I’d be delighted to receive your feedback about this tale of mine. Loved it? Hated it? Want more? Want less? Head on over to the listing of my stories and tell me all about it:

http://overflowingbra.com/results.htm?varname=553

That page contains the whole list of stories I uploaded to TOB so far, with the oldest at the top (ugh … you may not want to start there — or end there — or whatev’, but starting from and including “Temple Treat Part 3”, the complaints became significantly less) and the newest at the bottom. Please check that you’re targeting the right one when you send your comments. Yes, I do follow the comments for my older texts, too.

Note that at the Overflowing Bra, “5” means best. “1” means worst. Not the other way around. You also might want to make sure you’re rating/commenting at the right story page, too. Otherwise, things might get confusing. I’m just sayin’, is all. ;-)

If you’d like to ask me something, or if you want to stay on top of new stories I publish (not that often), here’s how: I post and also keep an eye on the TOB forum, and I started an “update/feedback” thread that’ll auto-notify me if you add to it:

http://www.overflowingforum.com/viewtopic.php?f=4&t=2195

All right, I guess I’ve bored you enough with my ego for now.