Thank you very much for your interest in this sex-enriched fantasy story. I do hope what meager talent I have to offer will give you a little break from your everyday life and lend wings to your imagination. Now I don’t consider myself a “professional” writer of any sort, though I do strive to present my tales as well as I possibly can. If you have questions, if you feel like giving me a verbal pat on the back or a harsh lecture (or really anything in between, I’ll take what feedback I can get), I do have a couple of links for your convenience at the end of this file.
— Paul
With that out of the way, obligatory disclaimer, titles and recap below. Or skip straight to the story.
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 3 – Ensnared And Enslaved
by
Paul Gerard (a pen name)
First Draft started 2008-06-17
This version 2012-06-17
Spellchecked: by computer.
Proof-reading: A very heartfelt thank you to Merkava IV and CoffeePilot for their 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.
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 …
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: Ensnared and Enslaved
Obscure inspirational music reference:
“I never wanted trouble / But I sure got enough” — Joan Jett, Victim of Circumstance
Chapter 11: New Sensations
The little hut crouched atop the grass-covered cliff, overlooking the half-circle of the bright sandy beach almost a hundred feet below. It was new and old and poor at the same time; its structure was barely more than a hodgepodge of stone walls and bleached timbers salvaged from the remainders of old wrecks and the occasional fresh beam, held together by little else than its builders’ enthusiasm and hope. No two windows were of the same size or same shape. It had stood the test of the winter storms, though.
A small circular well stood some yards nearby. The hut’s forecourt was but a flat area of sand where the narrow path rising steeply from a small pier by the waterline met a slightly wider and deeper one that showed some wheel tracks. The other side of the court was delimited by the low fence of a small garden with a collection of local vegetables.
Barbara sat at the simple table in her hut’s gloom, one hand flat against the wooden surface, the other arm’s elbow on the tabletop, cupping her chin and cheek in her hand. The air seemed chillier today, but despite being stark naked, the worried young woman took no notice. Her slender fingers drummed desperately on her cheekbones.
— And what if Dave doesn’t like it?
The thought had kept on circling in her head for hours. Sure, the results of the sudden growth burst from last night felt awesome on her hips and ribs, and every few minutes, her hand had gently cupped and kneaded the breathtaking expanse of breasts that now graced her front, but she wasn’t quite at ease with it.
Heh, and I was happy when they were like apples. I could’ve managed with the little melons, too. But this here? After that milk gush, they’re the size of my head now. Well, almost. I sure hope they don’t grow each time the milk comes out, because there’s such a thing as too much, she pondered. Sitting up straight again, she lowered her left hand to her nipples and circled the rubbery flesh with her fingertips. The thimbles of rough skin felt a bit sore after the pints of milk that had erupted out of the many pores.
Barbara’s right hand left the table and moved down, laying flush on her thigh now. Her legs weren’t as thin as before anymore either. The bulkier muscles hid themselves well beneath the padding that gave Barbara’s legs the perfect balance of strength versus smoothness, matching her wider hips to a T yet tapering towards firm, well-defined ankles that she still could wrap her slender hand around.
At least this won’t be a problem. Barbara solaced herself as her fingertips circled the plump and domed up vulva taking up all the new space between her legs. She prodded the soft outer pads lightly and ran a finger through the cleft, parting the wrinkles of her fleshy inner lips and feeling the long smooth stretch of rosy skin that lead to the clenched rosette of her vagina’s opening. It still felt nice and tight as she dipped the first part of her middle finger into the damp cave, yet if she willed her muscles into relaxing, the hole allowed for four fingers to dive into the lube-soaked tube without as much as a struggle.
Oh my, David’s going to have an easier time sliding into me, there’s room for two in me now.
Barbara hesitated. She angled her hips and sat on one buttock only, sending her fingers further along the cleft and towards the seam of her perineum. They found something there that she had missed but not expected to show up in that place. Strange. I’m — either I’m getting soft in the head, or my nethers are upside down all of a sudden. Wasn’t the pee hole in front? Well, it makes a bit more sense, out of the way in the back where it is now, but —
She smacked her palms against her temples until her head hurt. Keep your mind together, Barbara! As if that matters now! You’re easily twice as busty and bulky as before, and David’s about to come back any hour! How do you break him the news, eh?
“Barbara—!”
She heard Dave’s call outside and jumped to her feet. Sliding the balk across the door, keeping him out just a little longer, bought her time to think. Barbara leaned against the wood and breathed heavily. She’d spent the whole day musing, but that had not yielded any answer, rather to the contrary. Maybe the saving spark needed just a few moments more —
Her husband rattled the handle.
“Barbara—? Barbara, it’s me. Open up, I’ve got news.”
David pushed stronger. It wasn’t just the heavy balk that held the door shut from the inside. Weight leaned against the wood from the other side, and he heard his wife’s nervous panting. He hesitated, then he rested his forehead against his side of the door.
“It happened again, didn’t it?” he muttered.
“Err — yes. I’m afraid it did,” Barbara’s trembling voice croaked from inside the hut. After a moment’s hesitation, Dave heard the scraping noises of the bolt as it was removed.
Barbara cleared her throat. “Ready? And — and you’ll tell me honestly if it’s too much, right? Even if I can’t do a thing about it …”
She drew open the door and stepped into the frame. Her nipples, engorged to thimble size and riding in the center of domed areolae the diameter of her palms, left the hut first. Then followed her breasts, firm and full and the size of her head, their bases sagging slightly against her ribs to provide a footing to the several handfuls that strained against their silky-soft skin wrapper. Finally, the newly increased body of David’s wife crossed the door sill.
On her belly, hips and legs, her slightly bronzed skin didn’t adhere quite as strictly to the structure of her muscles as it had before. Now it smoothed gently over the land map of sharply defined sinews beneath and amplified Barbara’s carnal allure even more. The perfect hourglass curve from her ribs into her waist and back out over her hips and the tapering thighs had neither nook nor edge nor wrinkle. She shifted her weight on her other leg, and the change in her thighs’ and buttocks’ tension as muscles clenched on one side and relaxed on the other pressed into the slightly dark swollen outer pads of her vulva and tugged faintly all the way up in her crotch. Her labia slipped the tiniest amount, but she felt the result immediately. Barbara’s teeth dug into her lower lip. Wet. Wet again. She pinched her eyes shut and lowered her head. You horny slut, cut that out, she chided herself.
“It’s too much now, isn’t it?” she whispered fearfully as Dave’s silence dragged out too long. Her thoughts somersaulted and descended into a whirl of insecurity. Yes, too much. The gods, I didn’t want to see it, but that’s what drove him from Menena! And now I’m just as bloated as her, fat and bloated, too heavy for him to hold, with milk buckets slapping into his face! No, the gods no! I could choke him just by embracing him! Just one of my tits could choke him if it dropped on his face! What have I become?
The red glow of sunlight through her clenched eyelids disappeared when his shadow fell over her. His body’s warmth announced itself all over the skin of Barbara’s front, and then something wet and hot and silky bobbed against her navel. She opened her eyes wide. His girdle and tunic laid some feet away, cast aside in disregard, and the sculpted body she adored so much was just a dick’s length from hers. Her nipples on her projecting promontory almost grazed his chest. Peeking down the valley between her breasts, Barbara saw his naked, fully erect pole as it rose and sagged back against the flat curve of her belly in rhythm with his heartbeat. Thin threads of his pre-cum dragged between the purple head and her bright skin. She raised her head to his face. His cheeks glistened almost as wet as the throbbing glans that was just moments from release.
“Barbara,” he moaned, his eyes full of longing tears, “Barbara, take me into you, I’m burning up, I can’t stand to just watch you anymore, I must have you now!”
“No!” She pushed him away, and he fell over hard on his butt. She staggered a step backwards across the threshold into the darkness of the hut. “Dave! As much as I yearn for a ride on your rod now, first I need to know — I need — n—need — oh please, David —” She extended a pleading hand to him. With her face hidden in the shadows and the contours of her body only barely outlined, her wailing voice plummeted through the octaves, and her fingers bent into claws.
“The pendant. Mine,” rose from her throat and squeezed out through gnashed teeth, then she stumbled forward into the bright day again. The sunlight revealed her relaxed hand and nothing but a nervous plea on her features.
“Barb—,” he gulped and pinched his eyes as his erection shriveled up with alarming speed. “Did you just —”
“Did I what? Please, Dave, I’m depending on you! What did the witch say? I need to know!”
The young couple sat, clothed again and facing each other, at the sturdy table in their hut. The pendant sparkled on the tabletop between them.
“— And then she tried to catch me, but I lost her in the woods,” Dave finished his only slightly exaggerated tale.
“That’s spooky! Oh my. So I better don’t wear it. For shame, because it’s truly beautiful. But what about my —,” she pointed at her most prominent assets, “— my growing rounder? Did she say anything at all about that?”
“Well, she surely looked like a woman in the know about round, I tell you. She didn’t say much about it, only that it’s not the pendant because that’s not what those things do. She might’ve lied about that just to get her hands on it, though.”
Barbara lowered her head.
“I don’t think she lied,” she whispered. “Dave, you almost burst your seed all over my belly just staring at me, but have you truly seen me since you came home?”
Her hand reached for her dress, and she opened the straining fasteners. Her voluptuous chest sagged forward. “See? All that, it came to me the night before yesterday, in the blink of an eye, and with the pendant gone. So how can it be the pendant’s fault, if it was miles away? Dave —” Her eyes filled with tears. “Dave, I know you say I’m becoming a woman, but — but I’m having doubts about it. It feels so good, it’s like — but it can’t go on like that, can it? Am I not — I mean — I’m feeling huge. Huge and bloated and ugly. Nobody can want someone who looks like me.”
She turned her head away. “Worst thing is, I — I always long for sex now, every waking hour. I’m ugly and stuffed with fat and still it’s like I’m empty inside, and I need — I want — I must be filled, I’m —”
Barbara gulped. “Just t—talking like that, I’m all wet now and h—horny, I’m such a slut.”
She grabbed her head with both hands and ruffled her hair in desperation. “Oh just listen to me! I’m ranting like — like the first time it happened! It’s like — like I’m half-happy and half-scared! I—mmmpff!”
Dave swept her off her chair and pulled her into his tight embrace. He broke his kiss just long enough to whisper, “You’re not fat and ugly.” His hands closed around Barbara’s waist, and he felt her abs as they contracted and firmed up under his thumbs. The layer of padding didn’t make things worse. It made it so much better.
“That’s not fat! Well, maybe. But it’s the good kind! Look at you! Look at your shapely belly! Your marvelous legs! You’re curvy! Gorgeous and curvy!”
He bent his knee in front of her like the last time. His hands followed the smooth skin of her thighs, tracing the firm muscles hiding just beneath the surface. His fingertips sank into the valley between the tendons on the back of her knees before his palms cupped the double mounds of her calves.
“See? Oh Barbara, listen, there’s not an ounce of ugly on you, it’s all woman! Gods, you’re strong and curvy and round in all the right places!” He rose and cupped her bulging breasts, kneading the three-quarter spheres gently as they settled into his hands. “And those — smooth and soft and full of milk, as they are to be. I just want to kiss and suckle and hold you forever. Barbara, you’re the most desirable woman in the whole world, bar none!” Dave’s hands left the slightly sagging orbs and followed the depression of her spine down to the globular shape of her buttocks. He grabbed Barbara at the onset of her toned legs and hoisted her onto his hips.
Barbara clenched her thighs around her lover. Her arms wrapped around Dave’s head and forced him right between her bulging breasts, choking be damned!
“Prove it!” panted Barbara, her chest and face flushed with arousal. “Prove it again you truly love this ugly me!”
“The gods, wife! I will! Time and again!” mumbled Dave from the warm abyss of her cleavage, stumbling backwards, almost overwhelmed by her weight as she clung to him and ground her hips on his.
“Take me,” she moaned. “Gods, take me, I’ve been waiting for days. I need you to take me right now! Do it like last time, pound the love of my body right back into me!”
Barbara let go and knelt down, untying his belt with deft fingers while David pulled his tunic over his head.
Need him big and hard and glowing! Must burn all the wailing stupid from me with this poker! raced her thoughts as her hands closed around her husband’s still dangling cock. Barbara’s lips opened just wide enough to let half of his glans in, then she took a deep breath against the plug in her mouth. With Dave’s member still malleable, the building vacuum in her chest squeezed and pulled him through the slippery O. Her cheeks fell in as she sucked frantically, and the flesh in her mouth swelled and hardened until it felt like solid wood in a silky wrapper to her pouted lips.
Barbara angled her head and took him in deep, swallowing gently and relaxedly with her tongue rippling around every inch as it advanced down her throat. Pouting her lips, she put their firm seal around her husband’s pole and drew him in a bit deeper as she lowered her jaw. She felt a slight tension under her cheekbones, then something clicked just under her ears. David’s swollen glans passed easily through the yielding gate at the back of her mouth, and Barbara felt the slick cone as it went into the ribbed sheath of her gullet without as much as a gag or a choke. She pouted again and repeated her nibbling motions, guiding her husband’s thick rod with her tongue and consuming the raw meat inch by inch until finally her nose dug into Dave’s pubic curls.
“Gods Barbara —!” moaned Dave with his eyes rolled back and his face raised to the ceiling, and so he missed the strange and spectacular sight of his wife’s stretched throat that pulsed around the throbbing cock filling her from her lips to just beneath her collarbones.
“Mmmngnnn —,” she groaned, and the vibrating and tickling spread from her throat up and down along Dave’s swollen rod. His breathing came faster. Every tightening gulp of Barbara became a milking motion that threatened to drag him across the threshold.
She released him inch by inch, moving her head back and forth, with the releasing strokes ending just a bit farther each time. Her lips neared the thin sensitive band of skin under his glans. David groaned, moments from erupting. Barbara immediately opened her mouth wide and let him out without a further brush.
“No, not yet,” she whispered. David forced his eyes open. He staggered backwards against the hut’s wall, staring at what Barbara’s lips had unleashed from his loins.
“The gods—,” he stammered, his lust colliding with disbelief. “What have you done?”
David’s cock now stretched beyond the already oversized length he had been gifted with. At least two inches more had come out of his wife’s mouth than what they both knew so very well by now. The pole of throbbing flesh stood like a lower arm with swollen root-like veins spreading under the glistening skin.
“Mmmh—mh—mh—mmmmhh!” sang Barbara, her eyes firmly locked on the bobbing head. Pre-cum wormed down from the gaping hole pulled wide by the straining skin of the glans. David trembled and slowly slid down the wall, both hands grabbing the root of the trunk projecting from his hips. His gasps became spasmodic as more blood streamed from his body into his raging erection.
“Dizzy —,” he managed, all the while feeling nothing but cock. Barbara was by his side in a heartbeat.
Feed him. Weak. Need him strong! Feed him! whispered a voice in the back of her head. She cast aside her own gown, knelt down and bedded David’s upper body on her thighs. Her heavy breasts dangled just above his pale, sweaty face. David’s dry lips found her loaded, swollen teat.
Slllrrp —
“Unnngh—!”
Barbara rocked both their bodies gently, eyes closed, her face towards the ceiling, cradling her husband’s head to her breasts as she let down. Less than an arm’s length away on the table, the blue stone in the pendant sparkled stronger as Barbara’s rich milk filled David’s stomach.
David woke and opened his eyes against a warm, semi-firm pillow over his head. Sweet milk lingered in his mouth, and he recognized the distinct taste.
“Barbara?” he mumbled into the soft flesh. The silky pressure on his face was lifted. Her nipple, huge and coated in wetness like the palm-sized areola around it, dangled inches away. He raised his hands and adored the womanly bell of milk, stroking it gently.
“Oh Barbara, you’re the most lovely wife anybody could hope for,” he gushed before he pulled the breast in again and placed a ring of kisses around the crinkled nipple. He felt slightly light-headed but refreshed and ready for anything.
“Mmmmh,” she groaned, stroking his limp penis. It swelled in her grip and easily outgrew her hand’s clutch. “You’re better now?” Her question came with a worried air David couldn’t quite understand. His hands ran down her concave waist and out across her juicy buttocks.
“The voyage must’ve worn me out a bit, but after your delicious milk I’m feeling better than ever! Oh just you wait, love, this time it won’t be me giving in first,” he replied, wrapping his other arm around her back and pulling her down. Her breasts enveloped his face, and he kept on squeezing kisses into the warm crevice. Each kiss sent a twitch of swelling and thickening into his crotch. “Mmmwa! I’ll ride you until you’re splayed out like a beached octopus, my greedy limpet!”
David reached for his rod and felt the barely contained pressure and hardness in his fist. He hesitated but for a moment before he chuckled, “Look here, Barbara! Big Dave’s giving it his all, just for you! What are we going to do about this poor straining piece of meat? Do you think you can take all of that?”
“I’ll never stop trying,” she laughed relievedly and raunchily, crawling over him. Barbara spread her legs, leaning back with her buttocks on his knees. Her one hand’s fingers split her reddened outer pads. The gods, he’s mighty big now, for sure! She bent forward and closed her fingers around the pole just behind the glans. David pushed his thighs up and jiggled her just a little closer. Her knees slid across the floor as she thrust her hips forward and shortened the distance between her crotch and the blunt spearhead in her hand. She needed to push quite hard to bend it towards the right angle.
“Nnngh! Gently, Barb, it’s so hard, don’t break it!”
“Hahhh!” she gasped as her wrinkly rosette spread on the purple-glowing cone. “Oh yes! Oh yes!”
She tensed her thighs and lifted her buttocks off David’s legs. The distance grew shorter, and the glans strained in, stretching her moist petals wide around its increased girth.
“Hnnngghh!”
“Barbara —”
Sglorsh.
Thick and viscid was the discharge that seeped from Barbara’s swollen inner lips. The copious lube clung to the swollen glans and eased the conquering first penetration by David’s new cock.
“Fine. I’m fine,” she panted.
“Barbara, your womb —”
“Womb — is fine — too —” Her mutterings were almost inaudible under her throaty gasps. She leaned forward. Her breasts’ sweaty skin slipped over her ribs as they move from hanging outwards to dangling forward, and as she sank closer to her husband, she forced another couple of inches of Big Dave inside, reaming her soaked tunnel wider and deeper.
“Clutch of the gods,” he moaned. “So — good! But I’m so big — I can see it — filling you!”
Panting and swaying, Barbara craned her neck and pulled sideways at her breasts to get a glimpse beyond the rounded twin cones of her dangling mammaries. David was right. Down at her mound of venus, her engorged lust hood grew out of a curly bush centered on a trunk bulging under her skin. Thick muscle ribs the diameter of her pinky laid wrapped like rings around David’s colossal cock inside her. Even the ridge behind the glans showed through the adapting tube. Snake-like constrictions crawled along the sheath that had hidden under Barbara’s midriff. The top of the elongated bulge just barely lifted her navel. The thought of strange drowned in oh the gods that’s so good and so massive!
“Well,” she moaned, “you’ve never been so big before! Bad husband, holding out on your wife! Could’ve seen me bloating with your cock for weeks, y’know?”
“Unngh! Bad wife, could’ve given me more of your delicious cock-growing milk before!” he answered through clenched teeth, forcing another half-inch into the tight clutch of her sheath.
Barbara’s fingers traced the edge of the distended muscle up to her navel. She felt its ripped structure well beyond that point, not showing through her skin in its unfilled shape but definitely there to her fingertips. It offered capacity at least to her sternum. She compared the empty length of her to the rod of him still remaining outside. Barbara smiled.
“Not filling enough yet,” she groaned and began thrusting her hips again, consuming inch upon inch.
“Filling enough now?” moaned David as finally, Barbara’s cherry laid trapped in the fold of his pubes and the deepest root of his herculean cock. There was not another fraction of an inch he could get deeper into her. David felt the milking motions of her sheath, its throbbing, dilated shape squeezing Barbara’s flushed sweaty skin against his midriff. Their bodies were one, wrapped in each other’s arms, a single creature forged of carnal frenzy and delights beyond each of their imaginations.
Barbara panted rapidly and struggled to get the ancient prayer of “oh the gods — oh the gods — oh the gods” from her throat. The thing inside her — David inside her, bigger than ever, filling her new womb, filling her every inch —
“M—make m—me c—come!” she begged, writhing in his embrace. “Can’t — take it — aaaaah!—nnny longer — need — release!”
He kissed his way along her neck and across her cheeks until their lips locked.
“Mmmggh!” she groaned, still clawing at the mountain ridge of her climax. Why can’t I come! I — these delights — the fire! Can’t stand it anymore! She wrapped her arms tighter around her husband. His fingers left her back and stroked along her shoulders. Struggling in her firm embrace, he dug his hands around her confined breasts and squeezed them outwards. Her nipples popped free.
David pinched and rolled the hard thimbles between thumbs and forefingers. Barbara’s breath stopped. Trembling, she became ramrod stiff. The muscular sheath relaxed all the way for the briefest moment.
It clenched down hard on the root of David’s cock, forbidding any retreat. Waves of contraction started racing up along its length, milking him forcefully. Dave’s balls spat fire into his ducts. His boiling seed was sucked out even against the stranglehold on the base of his rod. Just before he lost himself in the explosion, he saw Barbara’s eyes as they rolled back. An unearthly smile spread her mouth.
Chapter 12: Barbara’s Choice
Days later.
“Maybe I shouldn’t sail to the city, what with the state you’re in,” Dave suggested.
Barbara stopped handing him baskets into the boat. “Uh—huh, yes, the state I’m in. Last night you couldn’t stop suckling the state of me from my tits. No, Dave. I’m good. Better than ever! Look at me!”
She straightened, her curvaceous body still stark naked and glowing after her brisk morning swim. Wetness darkened her blond hair that clung to her back and shoulders. The few remaining droplets on her toned skin sparkled in the morning sun as she turned on the spot and put her hands akimbo, leaving her full, firm chest time and room to calm its swinging by itself. Looking up from his swaying boat at the goddess proudly towering above him on the pier, Dave let out a whistle.
“The gods, Barbara! I’ll say it again! Your chest — your waist — your ass — your legs!”
“Yes, Dave, and finally I know it, that’s the most important thing. Really, I’m fine.” Barbara ran her fingers from her hips over her buttocks and back to the front. “Mmmh, I love my body. Even if I gain another inch while you’re away, I promise you won’t find me bawling my eyes out and cowering in some corner anymore. Not after you’ve shown me time and again how much you adore the new me.”
“Still, dear, I’d feel so much better if you’d be coming with me. Just this once.”
“Goodness, Dave!” laughed Barbara as she sat down on the warm wood of the pier and let her legs dangle. “There are so many things that need fixing around the hut. Y’know the only time anything gets done anymore is when we’re far enough apart, my stallion.”
“It’s not exactly my fault, my greedy broodmare,” he sighed with a smile and lowered his head.
“You’re no good at resisting either,” she shot back, raised a leg and tapped her toes playfully against his lower ribs. “Promise you won’t ogle any of those city dames, husband?”
“Oh, as if those uptight broads would know what to do with Big Dave anyway,” he smirked. “Just need to keep him tied up well behind my belt, the old snake’s become quite lively from your milk and all the squeezing your womb likes to do.”
She snickered as she glanced at David’s crotch. His tunic concealed the massive delights underneath quite well. “Lucky you, having married the one girl who knows how to treat him right, eh? So do your business and hurry on home again! Who knows, I might stumble upon the pendant, and just imagine how big I’d end up then.”
David’s voice lost all of its playfulness. “Barbara, don’t even joke about that. I thought we’d agreed on never mentioning it again. It’s gone, and that’s that.”
“Oh come now, Dave. I promised I won’t wear it again, and now that you’ve hidden it, what’s the harm in a little joking? You could’ve thrown it out into the ocean somewhere deep, if it bothers you so much.”
“Yes, and suppose some evil wizard shows up and demands it back? Those folks don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, from what I’ve heard. No, it’s better to have it in a place where we can get our hands on it, if need be.”
“Pshaw, wizards and witches. Like that one girl you told me about? Doesn’t sound like it’s worth worrying about,” Barbara snickered. “Maybe she was just a,” Barbara wiggled her shoulders and caused her breasts to swing, “dancer, y’know? Just a busybody out to impress people by playing the big bad witch.”
Barbara waved after him until the tiny sail had disappeared from sight. She turned her head and looked up at the path to their hut. Her lips curled from her gnashed teeth.
Market day’s about to begin. And I’m not going to give Menena the pleasure of me hiding from her stupid marketplace any more.
I’ll sort things out with her, once and for all! I’ve been her maid for years, and we always got along. That’s got to count for something. I won’t let this — this strange hazing go on, not for the life of me! I was scared when I looked a twig, but not anymore!
Her face relaxed, she raised her eyebrows and smiled wearily. No, no more excuses.
She could hear Dave’s voice again, the very words he’d said after she suggested it the last time: “Love, are you sure this is a good idea? Y’know, old wounds, fury like a woman scorned, and all that —”
“I really, really hope so,” Barbara sighed.
She pushed herself off the trunk that marked the end of the pier, straightened and began the ascent.
Chapter 13: Shop of Doom
“I’m sorry, I’m all out,” Barbara explained for the umpteenth time. The thwarted client looked down, dragged his feet and slowly wandered off. She had noticed his incredulous stare at the regions beneath her face and neck very well. Very well happened to be the way that her dress showed off her newly gained assets, too. The durable linen had once covered any trace of skin above her knees and below her neck, but when Barbara had sewn it, she’d been quite a few sizes smaller in the chest. Even with the seams patched and widened after Leta’s suggestion, the top hooks and strings gaped open now and were only able to frame the tightly packed pair of milk melons and the deep cleavage between them. Any sharp motion could be the straining cloth’s last.
She folded up and stowed the wobbly contraption that held the cart in place and doubled as a chair. The sun had passed through midday and stood near two in the afternoon. Its light, reflecting off the lime wash of the narrow side street’s walls, had a golden hue to it. The market would go on for another two hours, but with nothing left to sell, Barbara packed up early and headed out the gate.
Barbara dragged her empty cart along the road for maybe five minutes. As soon as she was in the first patch of trees and out of sight of the town, she took a sharp turn into the brushwood and hid the cart. Stepping back onto the dirt track and walking again towards the cluster of buildings, her gait had a newfound determination to it.
Her elevated feelings didn’t last long. By the time she reached the first houses again, Barbara no longer walked down the middle of the road but sidled nervously. Now she crouched behind the last corner leading to the marketplace. Her heart thumped in her throat.
Here goes nothing.
Barbara sighed and straightened. As her trembling hands smoothed at a few wrinkles on her skirt, her gaze couldn’t escape the very special gravity of her protruding chest.
So much skin showing! Gods, if I walk like that across the market — I know these chin-waggers, used to be one myself —
She pulled the red bandanna from her golden mane, unfolded the cloth and fashioned a makeshift hood from it that covered all of her hair and shoulders and hung low enough to conceal her breasts’ overwhelming bulge as long as she kept her elbows angled and her hands on the tails level with her chest. As she lowered her face, she noticed consciously that her shins were covered in dust and her bare feet had spots of dirt on them. The frayed rim of her gown reminded her about her clothes’ overall worn appearance, and that didn’t help at all.
I was so confident! Oh just look at yourself now, Barb —
No! One moment longer, I turn and run! I won’t run! No more!
She stepped around the corner. Barbara had been here countless times before, back in the days when things were better and Menena was still a strict but fair mistress to her young housemaid. She had strolled across the market week after week, taking the first and best picks for her mistress. Yet somehow, the stretch of cobblestones leading up to the mayor’s house and general store seemed so much longer today. Barbara prodded herself into action and took a first step.
She nodded and greeted shyly to the market women as she passed their booths. The looks she earned were indifferent at best, openly hostile at worst. Halfway across the expanse, Barbara lowered her head even more and ceased looking to make eye contact. She had grown up here, she knew everyone around here, and yet now whispers flew across her wake. She couldn’t plug her ears to them, and in her mind, they turned into the growls and snarls of a hungry pack of she-wolves.
Look at her. Look at that brazen little hussy! … all the men ran to her cart today! … flaxen-haired trollop! … did you hear whom she calls her husband? … homewrecker … how dare she show herself here … parading those melons like that … a shame! … no wonder she’s in Menena’s bad books … there would’ve been blood, I tell you, I would’ve not only kicked her out if she’d set her eyes on my man …
Barbara had to will herself into keeping her stride even, to keep on walking — no running! Don’t run! — towards the building looming ahead. She felt her resolve dwindling, and prayed she’d be at the door before it had all but petered out.
I never did anything to anyone, she wailed inwardly. Oh please, gods, why me? Why me?!
An eternity had passed when finally her fingers closed around the handle. She took a couple of deep breaths.
The metal bars over the frame jingled as Barbara pushed the door open just wide enough to sneak in sideways. She looked around. The shop hadn’t changed much since she last set foot in here, almost a year ago.
“Don’t put that there, Anton! Take it over to the other side, there’s too much stuffed into that rack already.” Menena’s voice clearly hadn’t lost the ability to be as gentle and caring as an arrow to the knee. She either hadn’t noticed the new arrival or decided that a customer couldn’t be as important as making sure things were stowed the right way — which of course meant her way. Her being usually right didn’t make it easier for the scrawny young man who had replaced Barbara. He struggled with a heavy, square basket, trying to lift it to the top of a shelf by the far wall.
Menena’s thick, slightly curly black hair hid her face. She half leaned, half sat behind the counter and was busy keeping her books and records current. Every now and then, her quill’s scraping stopped. Ding, went the small inkhorn as the tip struck the rim.
The scraping noises stopped. Menena exhaled audibly.
“Anton! Really! The other other side!” she called out. Menena jumped to her feet and strode over, pulling the basket from his hands and chucking him aside with a well-aimed bump from her fertile hips. She hadn’t changed at all, realized Barbara, neither in looks nor attitude. Half a head smaller than tall Barbara, the shopkeeper knew all too well that her figure, eye-pleasing as it was, leaned to the stocky side of women. As if to balance things out, nature had provided her with a more than abundant rack of surprising firmness that sagged down just because supporting the volume of elongated watermelons jutting out perpendicularly was beyond the capabilities of human flesh. Menena’s choice of clothes, dark, velvety, expensive and with significant reinforcements visible only to the trained eye, highlighted her massive mammaries and at the same time forced her waist into a slightly tapering form, almost concealing the cutest paunch a man could want to rest his head on. The long skirt flared around her luscious hips and bubbly rear. Underneath, her strong but not overly thick legs tapered to narrow ankles. Barbara knew that Menena was almost twice her age, rapidly approaching forty now. Nobody would’ve said that after a look into her stern face. In fact, the slightly round face devoid of wrinkles and the pair of big, dark green eyes under vaguely angled, thin eyebrows seemed to belong to a woman of no more than thirty. If ever the thought of age occurred to anyone eyeing the attractive, determined woman, that thought came in the seductive wrapping of experience, prurient, hungry, upfront, greedy experience.
Anton wasn’t in the mood or position to entertain, or even dare, such thoughts as he received an elaborate and vitriolic tongue-lashing. Barbara retreated into the dimly lit corner by the door and only cleared her throat after Menena had cooled her temper and sat back behind the counter.
“Ahem—”
After a cursory glance at the hooded figure bowing timidly, the voluptuous raven lowered her face back into the weighty tome and growled, “Well, look what the cat dragged into my store. It’s the man-stealing, ice-blooded, beanstalk floozy with her flaxen hair, and she doesn’t even dare to show her face.” The quill in her hand continued its dance down a long column of numbers, but the scraping seemed louder now, paper protesting faintly under unnecessary pressure. “If you have money to spend, then stay where you are, tell me what you want and then get out. I’ll have someone bring your deliveries over — if I get around to it. Times are busy. Pick ’em up next time you’re in town. I heard you’ve recently come to enjoy your place in the side street.” There was an audible hiss to the last words.
“Menena — can we talk alone, please?”
The raven put the quill and inkhorn aside and nodded to the young man.
“Anton, outside. Seems the red-hooded harlot wants to do women’s business,” she snarled. He curtsied to her and fled, casting a pitying glance at Barbara as he passed her. The door slammed shut behind him.
Barb looked around. They were alone. She sighed.
“Menie, please. What have I ever done to you?”
“That’s Menena to you,” was the chilly reply as Menena rose, clenched her fists and leaned forward, putting her knuckles on the table. Her eyes never left the tabletop as she added, “And you very much know what you did to me, servant. Tell me, do you snicker and giggle when my man mounts you at night, or do you howl your frozen soul out in those stolen delights? Do you drip and squirt when he drives his —,” her features softened for a moment, and her eyelids closed halfway, caught in delicious memories, “—uunh thick pole into you?”
Barbara’s cheeks turned rosy, and she took a deep breath. Menena’s flash of sensual absence was contagious. They both knew all too well what they were talking about. Barb wrestled down the budding arousal.
“Me—nena, it was his decision to leave you. I never —”
The shopkeeper turned away brusquely and grabbed the edge of the table behind her.
“Do you think I don’t know that?” she muttered, her head hanging. “You never wondered why I’m still letting you into the market? You never wondered why it’s him I don’t want to see in this town? And still —”
She breathed in deeply and turned back. Menena’s moment of rumination was gone. Her gaze was cold and scornful as it locked on Barbara’s azure eyes. Her words were a drooling snarl. Little droplets of spit flew as she bellowed her rage at the girl before her and watched her twitch like under the whip.
“And still you have the nerve to show up and remind me, week after week! You know why I sent you to those sidelines? So I don’t have to see your face time and again, reminding me that you betrayed me as well. You don’t want to anger me, maid. I held back, I spared you, because once upon a time, you were faithful to me, because once upon a time, I saw a lost orphan and took her into my services, after that horrible storm that claimed almost half the village! You were my confidante, Barb! And then? What happened, you flirt? You whore! You knew he was mine! Doesn’t change a thing that he walked out on me, he would’ve seen that I’m the right one for him, with time. But nooo, the scrawny snake I fed on my very own bosom is the one tripping him up just as he’s about to turn back! And she coils up around him, keeping him from seeing the truth!”
Pale and shaking, Barbara wheezed, “I never — Dave never — Oh the gods! Menena, is that what you think about me? It wasn’t like that! Not at all! I never knew about you and him — he was just alone, and — and he was so thankful for me saving him from drowning. I never wanted to hurt your feelings! Oh please, please, M—Menena, can’t you find it in you to — to forgive me?” Pleadingly she held out her hands. The cloth covering her ample cleavage parted.
Menena’s head jerked up. Her eyes darted to Barbara’s chest, then down to her own, and the inevitable comparison she drew between herself and Barbara did not yield a result that would’ve calmed her anger.
“What the — oh great! And on top of all that, now you’re a late bloomer, eh? What now, huh? You’re going to parade around, ruining the last little fame left for me? Oh, I can just see what you’re going to do! You’re going to thrust your tits into the men’s faces until they come to me, begging for me to let you back in because oooh lookit the poor sweet girl and her poor sweet fat udders of youthful firmness?”
She circled the counter and hesitated when all of Barbara’s body came into her view. Her face grew pale and her jaw dropped. The shopkeeper’s eyes bugged as she measured up the divine shape of the meek girl’s figure squirming in front of her. Not even the worn clothes could conceal the alluring curve of Barbara’s hips and her toned thighs. Even her dust-covered feet with the narrow ankles would’ve sent men kneeling and kissing them clean. For a few moments, Menena’s breathing, heavy with rage, was the only sound.
Then she took another step forward, clenching her fists. “No. No way! I’ve had it! That’s enough! You hear me?” Her hands flew up, she leaned in. “Enough! D’you think I’ll let you get away with stealing Dave, after he’s ruined any other man for me? D’you think I’m happy just pleasing myself night after night because curse all those twig dicks in this sinkhole of a town?!”
Barbara backed away, a lump in her throat and the itching of tears in the corners of her eyes.
“Please, Menena, I never — I didn’t want to upset — I was wrong to come here — I’ll just go — You won’t see me again —”
She licked her dry lips.
She tasted salt. Every place in her mouth tasted like the sea.
No, no, not now, oh mercy of the gods, not now, not on top of that —
Heat flushed Barbara’s face, but it wasn’t the heat of embarrassment. It was the bad heat, the harbinger of milk. It spread on down her neck, down over her chest. Her nipples hardened. She slapped her one hand over her cleavage’s deepening chasm, the other fumbled blindly for the door as she slowly backed away. Fear shone in her eyes as she felt the cloth tightening across her chest.
“I — I need to go.”
Menena circled her effortlessly and blocked the exit, standing akimbo in the door frame.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she snarled. “We’ll sort this out here and now. You haven’t heard half of what I’m going to call you, you whore! You sneaky, filthy —”
“No!” wailed Barbara. She spun around and backed away, towards the center of the room. “You don’t understand! I — must — leave — now!” The itching grew stronger. Hot milk kept building up inside her. Barbara sensed every single tiny duct in her bosom as they were slowly filled by the liquid exuding from the bulbous glands deep in her flesh. The spongy expansion had started deep at the center of her mammaries and radiated outwards now. The first seams protested quietly, and Barbara felt the trembling and groaning of yielding linen as it fought a valiant last stand.
Her other hand joined the desperate spread-fingered struggle to contain her growing chest. The heat wormed into her nipples and made them bulge against Barbara’s palms. Leta Mawson could kneel and kiss Barbara’s luscious ass for all she cared, but Barbara just knew in her heart that Dave had been right and these rushes couldn’t be normal. Alas, that insight came too late, far too late —
“Please! Menena, please let me go!” She needed to adjust her grip, digging into her breasts’ underside to support her growing roundness.
The shopkeeper’s gaze strayed from Barbara’s worried face and towards her squeezing hands.
Menena’s eyes grew bigger, if that was at all possible. She stared down on the thimble-sized bulges on Barb’s chest that neared the frayed rim as the bloating flesh outgrew its wrapper. The darker areolae already showed in the overwhelmed gap of the surrendering cloth.
“Your tits — oh the gods, they’re getting bigger!” she gasped, one trembling hand pointing, the other halfway to her open mouth. “You’re growing! You’re growing before my eyes! What in the heavens’ names is that?”
“Nothing!” Barbara shrieked. “Nothing at all! Now let me out! Let me — nngh!”
Barbara’s face screwed up. Building arousal collided with the first faint stings of too much under her skin. The tendons on her neck showed.
“Too late — tearing — apart — so full — of milk,” she moaned. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes.
Menena hesitated but for a moment, then she spun around and rummaged the earthen pots on the shelves.
“No matter how much I’d like to see that, I can’t have you running from my shop all bawling and clothes torn, it’s bad for business,” she snarled through gritted teeth and over the faint rending of Barbara’s dress as the swelling flesh spilled out.
“Here, chew down on this! It’ll help.” The shopkeeper held a bunch of wrinkly green leaves up to Barbara’s face. The girl grabbed the half-dozen with both hands, stuffed them in her mouth and munched them down.
“Yerch! Pfuah! What vile weed was that?”
Menena saw her enemy’s swallow, and the mask of her worried expression slowly turned into a malicious grin.
“Glad you’re asking just now,” she snickered. “Milkmaid’s Friend. Good for cows. Don’t you like it, you cow? Huh? Can you feel it already?”
Her fingers made little milking motions. “Now I’ve got you where you belong! It’s for when they don’t give enough milk, you see? You think you’re big? Oh my, will you fill up now! Yes, it’ll help your udders to really bloat with the white deliciousness. Let me get my bucket, swollen cow. Now you’ll give back and back to me! Now I’ll drain you good!”
“No! Oh no, Menena, are you mad? What have you done — Let me go! Ouch!” Another loop gave in and snapped painfully across Barbara’s continually deepening cleavage. The edge of her neckline dug deep into her flesh, and her malleable breasts squeezed themselves through the window towards sweet liberty.
“You really want to go outside now?” smirked Menena. “Oh, your little secret is out! Out for all to see! Hah! I always knew it wasn’t just your looks that led my Dave astray! And now that your lecherous tricks have turned against you, do you really want to run across the market with your clothes torn and your strange, growing, heavy breasts hanging out? You want me to tell them all how I saw you change? You really want me to tell them, witch? Do you think your wiles will still sway them? The men, maybe, you loose enchantress, but do you think us women take kindly to a cunning devil’s whore out to seduce and steal our men?”
All color drained from Barbara’s face. “Oh please, Menena, please — I’m no witch, I — I can’t help it! It just happened! Please, don’t make me into a witch. I heard them, they’ll burn me! I know you hate me, but please, don’t let them kill me!”
The shopkeeper’s wicked smile grew wider.
“Oh, so you’ve got a little brain in that blond head of yours? Good! No, I won’t make you a witch, if you behave, servant. Oh yes, if you obey, then I’ll let you live. Death would be too easy a punishment for what you’ve done to me anyway. Yes, I’ll do something much better. Much, much more satisfying. For me.”
Tears ran down Barbara’s face. Her delicate skin strained painfully around the swelling, overfilled ducts in her breasts. “Menena, why — what — what are you — gods!” Barbara swayed, then she broke to her knees, her face contorted in agony. Her dress gave in with a high-pitched tearing sound. Suddenly there was a neckline that reached well to Barbara’s navel, and her inflated breasts jumped out, each almost twice the side of her head. Spurred by the weed, her glands throbbed and trembled incessantly now, draining her strength and turning it into more and more milk that threatened to come out either through the swollen, hardened nipples or right through her bursting flesh.
“What — what — what,” mocked Menena, towering akimbo over the half-dressed, convulsing woman. “What I’m going to do? I already did! I made you my very own milk cow, that’s what I’ve done.” She leaned down and grabbed Barbara’s hair, forcing her face up. “Don’t you need relief, huh? Don’t you long for a pair of hands to ease your swollen burden before you burst? And who else can you turn to now, huh? Who in this whole village will not burn you at the stake, huh? So down, cow! On your hands and knees, and crawl to the back room like the obedient livestock you are! I want to see you hang your teats into the milk bucket right now!”
Menena shoved her down again. Sobbing and sniffing, Barbara rolled from crouching to all fours and followed the command. Her breasts dangled and mashed into each other, her nipples almost dragging across the ground as she struggled into the dark adjoining room.
Menena slammed shut the door, knelt down by her stock, grabbed a wet rag and quickly ran it over her cow’s hard nipples. Barbara squeaked in chilly surprise.
“Quiet, you!” chided the shopkeeper. Her fingers felt up the heavy, dangling orb of Barbara’s left breast, then wandered over to the other side.
“They are pretty impressive, you know? Don’t befit your slender frame, but they feel really nice.”
Menena gave the pumpkins in her grip a gentle kneading. Barbara stifled a shriek of overfilled pain. Wet white warmth spilled instantly over Menena’s palms.
“And they’re so very full. Oh, I like me some fresh milk. Alas, can’t have it from neither cow nor goat. That kind doesn’t agree with my innards and makes me sick for days. But now I’ve got a very special one, giving plenty of the only milk I can stomach, for free, and instead of a smelly, dirty beast and the expenditures for a stable, she’ll be oh so clean and easy on the upkeep, won’t she?” snarled Menena.
Barbara nodded. “Yes, yes, anything, just — relief, oh the gods, relief! Can’t — not a moment longer —”
“So let’s see how much we can draw from you.” Menena pinched the rough strawberries lightly before she kneaded the puffy areolae. Barbara’s moan started in pain but turned into a sound of deepest relief as almost a dozen of thin white jets sprayed from the crinkled buds with amazing intensity. Menena hurriedly pulled up a bucket and lifted the sloshing orb across the rim.
“My, you’re just dying to give back to me, eh?” she smirked.
Barbara’s letdown grew into a steady flow with Menena’s forceful strokes from the root down to the tip of the dangling udders.
Humiliating as it was, it felt good. It felt right, for whatever weird reason. An aroused moan escaped Barbara’s lips, and she regretted it the very next heartbeat. Menena stopped her stroking and put her lips right next to Barbara’s ear.
“Cow likes, huh?” she whispered.
“No,” sobbed Barbara.
“Oh, don’t you worry. What did you think I was going to do? Pinch your teats like this?”
Barbara flinched, but the pain didn’t come. Menena’s fingers touched the engorged nipple lightly, rubbing it with her well-lubed fingertips only. A shiver ran down Barbara’s spine, and both her nipples sprayed even stronger. The milk stood an inch high in the bucket under her breasts, its surface crowned with a layer of foam as the thin jets bubbled into the rising liquid.
“You’re in your place now, cow. You’re no longer the girl that stole my man. Now you’re mine. My cow. And if there’s one thing I learned, it doesn’t pay to anger the cow if you want lots and lots of fat milk. See how your udders agree with me?”
Menena’s hands cupped one breast, massaging it firmly but gently. Lust, weird, wrong lust burst in Barbara’s head. Her hips began to buck, and her thighs quivered. She sagged down, pressing her enormous, increasingly soft breast into her enemy’s grip. The hissing and bubbling grew stronger.
“More,” moaned Barb’s mouth. Her eyes were empty. Her crotch dripped almost as eager as her teats. The thick juices of her arousal seeped down in viscous drops along the insides of her thighs, and her mind was afloat in an ocean of freakish desires.
“What’s that smell now?” Menena wrinkled her nose and leant sideways, looking along Barbara’s flank. Her mouth spread into a mirthless grin. “Oh my, someone’s a dripper, isn’t she?” The shopkeeper’s hands left Barbara’s swollen, dangling pumpkins. She reached for a bundle of straw and cast it between Barbara’s legs.
“Here, sit on it or at least try to squirt your lewd juices only there. Gods, it’s running thick like molten candle wax, and those threads of slime — what sick creature are you? You’re not supposed to have that much fun, and don’t you think I’ll help you drain that source, you slobbering twat.”
Another whiff of Barbara’s aroused sex brushed against Menena’s nose. “Eww, watch that you don’t get your fish oil into my delicious milk, cow.” Menena grabbed Barbara’s hair and guided her swaying breasts over the bucket again. “Here, and do try to squeeze your legs shut.”
An hour later the bucket was full. Barbara’s melons had lost just barely half of their size and were almost back to the volume she’d had when she entered the store. To Barbara it seemed years ago. She licked her dry lips. “Need to — to drink,” she rasped. “Thirsty.”
“Obviously,” sneered Menena as she put the bucket away and grabbed something from a nearby shelf. “So you better get up, creep out the back door, run home and do that. Here, hang this blanket over your shoulder. Don’t want to draw attention to you now, do you?” She dipped a finger into the white liquid in the bucket and licked the delicacy off. Her stern face brightened into a delighted smile while she rubbed her hands clean on her apron. “Mmmh. Rich and sweet. Just a single bucket, though. The way you wailed about bursting, I expected more of you, Barbara. And a lot less. Gods, this room smells like a fish butcher’s now.”
“Please — Menena — ”
“Talking back now, cow? No, we won’t have that, will we? Just make sure you drink enough, because I’m going to come over tomorrow for the next milking,” the shopkeeper declared. She bent down to the huddled figure on the floor.
“Remember, cows that don’t give milk get roasted. Do you want to burn, cow?”
Barbara sniffled and shook her head mutely. Menena nodded, towering over the exhausted young woman, glaring down with a satisfied smirk.
“Didn’t think so either, cow. So keep your mouth shut, to anyone. Just be glad I don’t make you wipe the floor, drool cunt. And now, get up and get out!”
“Yoohoo! Baaa—arb!” squeaked a voice that Barbara didn’t need to hear as she sneaked and stumbled through the deserted side streets, diving into corners or hiding in the long shadows of the late afternoon whenever footsteps approached. She wrapped her arms tighter around her aching chest, creeping deeper into the smelly blanket she wore like a hood over her head and shoulders in a desperate effort to conceal the several new inches of her bust underneath — her bared bust flashing from the shreds of her dress’ top, she realized in terror.
“C’mon, wait up, Barbara!”
Barbara looked around and gave up. Letting Sandy catch up with her was better than being chased by a good-natured yet loudly screeching harpy who made too many heads turn.
“Oh thank you! Ya didn’t hear me or what?” The pudgy young woman bent forward, put her hands to her round knees and wheezed, “D’aw, girl, I’m not one for chasing after people! Haaaawwh! Phew! So, what you running from?”
Keep your mouth shut, to anyone!
“Uh — eh — oh the gods, Sandy, I can’t talk to you now. M—must get home. I — I think I’ve done something stupid,” Barbara blurted out and hastily turned to go.
“Barb! Aow, Barb! Come now, don’t ya run of agai—”
Sandy’s hand caught the frayed edge of the blanket. It tore open, and the massive bulge of Barbara’s left breast spilled out. Barbara tripped and fell, curling up on the ground.
“Waow! Barb, you’re bigger than ever!” gasped Sandy, kneeling quickly by her side. She cast a few nervous looks around. “Oops! Wasn’t meant to come out loud like that, Leta always says it’s uhn—per—fashional. Eh, can’t help it, ya gots me there! You been hiding them last time ya been at Leta’s?” Sandy touched Barbara’s shoulder and hesitated. “Yer cold! Barb, you’re sweating! Oh dear!” She helped Barbara upright again, steadying her with a firm grip on the upper arm, and Barbara felt thankful for that. Sandy dragged the blanket back in place and lowered her voice to a whisper.
“There, sweetie. Oh my, ya been crying? Girl, you’re white as lime. Ya gonna tell me what’s wrong? Come, lemme take ya to Leta’s.”
Barbara jerked away. “No! No, Sandy, anywhere but there! I must go home!”
“Now ya gots me all curious,” Sandy whispered conspiringly, then her face lit up. “Oh woueee! You gots a bun in the oven! Oh sweet, but that’s no reason to cry! Lemme be the fuirst to cuhngrayterlate ya!”
“I wish,” Barbara panted. “Menena — she — I —”
— SHUT, TO ANYONE!
“Menena what?” Sandy inquired big-eyed, slanting her head.
Do you want to burn, cow?
“N—nothing, she — uh, in the shop, I — I just — I ate some weed I shouldn’t have. Feeling all bloated now,” Barbara mumbled.
“Iff’n it isn’t yer lucky day! Weeds, that’s muy new spaycerality!” Sandy declared. “Leta had me sorting leaves th’whole morning! Come, what did it look like?”
“I — I — I don’t know, just some green leaves, with those little jagged edges, and a few yellow spots, and … ”
Sandy listened for a while, then she giggled, “Ooh, ya makin’ it sound like Milkmaid’s Friend! Naaaah, Barbara, can’t be, it’s not a weed from around here. And it so costly, Menena wouldn’t sell it to you of all people, y’know.”
“Uh, well, she was pretty angry — I mean, just by accident, I —”
“Fer sure? Ya nabbed a taste of it?” gasped Sandy. “Wow, yer braver than I thought!”
“B—brave?”
“Well, y’know why they call it Milkmaid’s Friend? B’cause ya dunna hav’ta work at all ifn’ya give it t’the cows, thems jus’ squirtin’ and squirtin’ fer hours, jus’ hav’ta swap out them buckets un’nerneath. Mind ya, need t’have lotsa water aroun’, b’cause they dry up t’them bones iff’n ya don’t keep ’em guzzling. And fer us women, damn is it hard on our teats, y’know, b’cause we ain’t meant t’have our milk spray out fer yards.”
Barbara jerked back when Sandy’s thick fingers quickly felt up her heavy, sagging bags.
“You’re lucky, it hasn’t kicked in yet else them udders be big as pumpkins an’ hard as rocks,” Sandy declared, then she nodded, “Yeh, ya best be hurry’n home an’ make yerself cumfertable wit’ a bucket o’water an’ lotsa towels, b’cause ya gonna have a couple o’ purty strainin’ hours ahead o’ya. Come, lemme help ya to the gate, it’s th’least I can do fer ya.”
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 3”
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.