Siren Song Ch. 02

Dave's reluctant hostess followed his wandering gaze and rolled her eyes.

"Seen enough?" she snarled. "Forget it right away. I'm tired. Not going to twirl my hips for you for a handful of coins."

"You're — a dancer?" gasped Dave. "One of those women? No! That's not why I came here! I'm faithful! I'm married!"

"Ooh, I like it how you make a spoken dancer sound like a screamed whore," she snapped back. "Cut it out. You wanted the witch?"

She squatted down on the other side of the campfire and tore a lump of meat from her the half-charred, impaled dinner. Her plump, reddish lips spread into a wide, mirthless grin.

"You found her."

~

She sat cross-legged now, the flames between her unwelcome guest and herself, and kept mustering him from underneath furrowed brows. Her teeth shone brightly against the dark brown of her skin. Dave had heard about the farawayers, stories and tales handed down by the sailors of the tall ships. She didn't seem like a man-eater to him, though, but she wasn't a friendly host either. Mine, something in her eyes said. Ask for a piece of that piglet, and you'll regret it.

David gulped.

"You're pretty — young for a witch," he mumbled, avoiding her piercing stare.

"Well, where d'you think old witches come from?" she snapped back. "What's it now? You came here to chit-chat? It's been a rough day, so either you tell me what you want, or get lost. Where you from, anyway?"

Don't tell her. Never tell a witch where you live.

"Uh, a—round. Around. Just, around these parts."

She waved the bone she had been chewing on in his general direction.

"Trying to be a clever one, you are, eh?" Her mouth formed a derisive smile. "Fear the witch, even if you need her. Suit yourself, fisherman."

He twitched. "How could you —"

She tapped the side of her broad nose. "Hard to get rid of, your work's smell. Name's Yrba, by the way.

"No, don't tell me yours. I'll just call you — dunno — ah, Dave's going to suit you just fine," Yrba laughed hoarsely.

~

David fumbled in his knapsack and pulled out the pendant, letting it dangle from its delicate chain.

"This here. That's why I came. I think it has powers. My wife — she's been wearing it, and she has, uh, changed since."

Yrba shrugged and kept gnawing on the bone.

"Most women change once they get their hands on jewelry," she muttered with her mouth full. "Hold it higher."

David raised his arm. The light sparkled on the silver and the blue crystals.

"Ooh, pretty!" whistled the witch and tossed the bare bone back over her shoulder. She pushed her skirt up and wiped her hand on her naked thigh before she reached for the palm-sized disk.

The next moment, she cursed out loud, her voice barely intelligible on account of the five fingers she crammed into her mouth. David jerked back. Yrba sucked on her aching fingertips, with her plump lips almost wrapped over her knuckles.

"Gwammib! Mmmph! Curses! Didn't see that coming. Stings like hell, that little bugger!"

She shook her hands and flexed her fingers. "Right, once more with feeling. Hold it steady, need to —"

Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she massaged her temples, then her forehead. Her chest swelled under her heavy breathing, and a low, long-drawn "oooooommmmm" reverberated through her body before she started whispering.

"— Slowly, slowly — getting there — hoommmmm — something like a fog, a whirl —" Her fingers closed in again, carefully this time, like working themselves through a jumbled net, until suddenly she snatched the trinket.

"Gotcha, you little bitch!" Yrba's thumbs stroked over the surface, gently caressing the crystal nubs. "Mmmh. You like that, huh? Yeees you do, you horny little nipple. Come on, show me what you are. Nice little toy. Very nice little toy. What's it that you do? —Whoa, dammit, that's a hellofalot of power in such a little thing!"

Her pupils rolled back to the front, and she blinked rapidly and raised her eyebrows.

"Okay, strange guy, that's not just a pretty pendant. Your wife carried it close to her body? She didn't feel something like a sting or whatever?"

Dave shook his head.

"And you didn't respond to it either," the young witch continued. "I guess the both of you are just common people, eh? No history of seeing white wisps of fog or whirls of stars around things. Means you're easy prey for whatever power hides in there."

"Prey? What — what does it do? My wife, she's grown after she wore it."

Yrba raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"Grown in her, ah, womanly parts, I mean, and she got insatiable for, uh, the kind of things, err, married people do," Dave stuttered on and fell silent.

More jumping eyebrows.

"I mean — I'm pretty, uh, big, if you know what I mean, and she never could t—take me all the way in, or at all, but suddenly, she finds that pendant, and the very next thing, she sits on me and I'm — up to the hilt, I mean..."

His voice tapered off. Yrba glanced at his crotch and snickered.

"U—huh. Sure. You're too big for women. You know what a woman's fun chute is really meant to let through, don't you? I doubt you're that big."

"Well, ah, no, but —"

Dave sighed and looked away, clenching his hands into fists.

"Listen, it's hard enough telling you all this, so, her — her down below, she was too tight, and she's much bigger now. I'm sure. And she — we — ahem — for whole afternoons and straight into the nights. Not that I don't like it, it was the best, but — I mean, magic —"

The witch exhaled and rubbed her temples.

"Yeah, fine. That's one thing you're right about. That little thing is chock-full of magic alright, strong magic, and it keeps eating it up and stuffing itself, even now. I don't know what it does. Or rather, what that trinket wants. Can tell you that it surely doesn't collect its strength to make your wife right for you or to make the pair of you ahem all evening, though. That's not how these things work. Trust me, I know enough about healing, and making things grow, to recognize them when I see them, and that one here isn't out to do that."

Yrba cocked her head.

"If I were you, I'd get rid of it. Fast."

A smile curled the corners of her mouth, and the chain of the pendant tensed between her grip and David's.

"Just so you know, I've got plenty of experience, disposing of magical items. If you give it to me, you have my word that you'll never see it again in your life."

Bring it back, David.

"Uh, I'm not sure," Dave stuttered. "I mean, I can't just give it away, can I? Maybe someone might want it back, and I — I'm not really —"

"You leave it to me!" hissed the witch, and suddenly, she didn't seem so nice and friendly anymore. David grabbed the chain hard, yanked the pendant from her grip and jumped up to run.

Yrba's angry scream echoed through the nightly forest. David didn't wait around to listen to her toppling, screeching voice.

~

The young witch knelt by the fire, stooping over her hands, swaying back and forth. Tendons bulged all over her neck and dragged the corners of her mouth down. The white teeth in her lower jaw shone red in the flickering fire.

"You stupid bastard! May the magic cut and gut you, you numbskull!" she howled after the fleeing man before she sagged from her haunches to her well-padded buttocks. Tears ran down her cheeks.

Hissing and groaning, she opened her fists and took a look at her now moist, glistening skin. Tiny red droplets swelled from the hair-thin slices that crisscrossed over the mocha skin of her palm. Yrba clumsily fumbled a clean cloth from her travel sack and clenched her fingers around it.

"Don't want my advice?" she moaned, biting her lips in pain. "Fine! Go and get yourself eaten by whatever monster this stupid thing conjures up! See what you'll get then. Oh fuck does it burn!"

~

Chapter 10: Bigger by the Bucketful

~

He's gone two days now, Barbara mused as she used the last daylight to add another layer of stitches to her clothes' seams. Dave must be with the witch now.

She sat naked at the table in the hut's kitchen and general purpose room, stewing in her own sweat. The summer heat outside was just as bad. Barbara pinched her eyes hard. The lids itched with salt.

Eyes tired. Can barely see — ouch!

She threw needle and thread on the table and the gown after them before she sucked on the fingertip she just pricked. "Enough for today," she muttered and rose. Her ears rung faintly, and her temples ached. Really must stop squinting so much, my head's killing me.

The sun's disk was already beneath the horizon. The last reddish glow in the west lost out to the blue hues of the night as Barbara stepped out into the yard and wandered over to the well. The sultry air clung to her sweaty skin. She pulled up a bucket full of cold water and raised it to her mouth.

~

"Ahhh—!" she sighed happily, lowered the bucket and ran the back of her hand over her mouth. Her tongue circled her lips. Sweeter than the sweetest wine.

A frown curled her brow as she stared at the empty pail in her hand. Did I just guzzle a whole bucket of water—? she wondered and took a step backwards.

Something on her front jiggled on after she put her foot down. Barbara lowered her eyes.

Her banshee's wail echoed through the night.

~

"No! Oh please, not this!" Barbara howled. Her hands patted over a belly that shielded her legs and feet from her eyes and still kept on swelling. The dome of taut skin bloated out of her midriff by almost half a yard until it ended in a navel projecting another inch further, driven out of her potbelly's curvature by the inhuman pressure growing inside the sphere. Her panic increased as she felt herself slowly coming apart. The sphere spread out further as its filling seeped in between Barbara's skin and muscles and dissolved whatever held the two together. Its growing weight forced the edge of the swelling lower, and it crept under the skin of her triangle of blond curls, spreading and thinning it as the flesh of her mound of venus expanded.

That's what all of us women go through, but we don't talk about it.

Barbara desperately held on to that thought, trying to keeping her mind from snapping. Oh the gods, I never knew — and if I'd known before, I'd never have dared to tell anyone — I'd never have believed either — oh no, it's about to — eeeeeyyyaah!

The rippling, watery filling reached the top of her outer labia and sloshed into the willing receptacles. The slim folds between her legs thickened while her lust knob swelled to strawberry size, palpitating nervously. Barbara tried to squeeze her thighs together. The groaning and creaking of her hip bones vibrated through her whole body. Her inner lips, slick with her thick secretion, slip-slid out as they bloated too big for her vulva to keep them concealed inside. She let go of her belly that flopped down on her lower arms as she dug her hands into the wrinkly petals of swollen skin. The bolt of arousal hit her, taking her breath away. She dropped to her knees, and the impact forced another pint of stuffing into her nether regions. Her fingers squeezed and kneaded, trying to hold back the incessantly enlarging gate.

Mmmnnh — feels — good, spluttered her scrambled thoughts. Her tight grip just barely stopped the bloating. Gobs of her warm juices seeped through her fingers, elongating into threads with thick drops at the end that slowly descended towards the ground.

Its obvious avenue denied, the bloat of her belly wandered higher, detaching her skin from her ribs, until the edge of the straining bulge touched the underside of her breasts. It seemed to hesitate for a moment, gathering momentum.

Barbara gasped for air as half of her enormous paunch's stuffing breached the borders of her breasts' roots and shot like an ice-cold wave up into the delicate flesh. The sphere shrank marginally while her mammaries jumped up and out, only to slap down on her bizarre belly-boob moments later. For a moment, all of Barbara's bloated front was a quivering, rippling ocean trapped in almost overwhelmed girl skin. Her chest slowed in its growth and finally stopped. The undersides of her boobs tickled at the onset of her navel's small dome.

~

It's never as bad as it seems in the mind, she repeated Leta's soothing words. I'm not that big. I'm not. My skin's just too sensitive. I'm not that swollen. These breasts don't hang down beneath my navel — heh! Navel! My navel's a teat, and I can barely reach it! — No! Not real! Just in my mind! — Not nine months preggers with triplets. It's all just in my mind.

Cradling the overwhelming proof to the contrary in her arms, its drum head-tight skin covered in her wet hand prints, she staggeringly navigated the kitchen and into the bedroom. Every heavy, insecure step made the pair of her pumpkin-sized mammaries shake and quiver on top of the billowing belly-orb in her clutch. Leaving a wide, slimy smear on the blanket, she sat down on the rough mattress, humming to herself, All is well, I'm not bigger, nothing's wrong. Keeping her eyes trained on the full moon outside the window as it rose from the sea, she banned any acknowledgement of the rousing sensations in her rear that told her, mmmh, don't forget that mare's ass, huge and firm and round and oh don't you want to knead and squeeze it already?

"No!" she hollered into the silence of the hut and let herself fall back onto the bed. Too late did she realize that it wasn't just her ordinary shape that came down along with her torso. Her belly almost squeezed her stomach up her throat, and the bloated mountains of her breasts sloshed on the bed and tried to splay sideways. Barbara gnashed her teeth in the pain of her skin struggling near its tearing point. The delicate wrapper held and forced the malleable flesh into a circular swing that ended up slapping against her cheeks before it contracted strenuously back into the two massive heaps of glands that now quivered to the left and right of her ribs while her breastbone felt as if it would rip through the taut skin over it.

Gods, have mercy! So — heavy!

Barbara's one hand grabbed the wrinkled bed sheet. She threw her other arm over her sweaty brow, sealing her eyes from the world. Need to sleep. Just sleep. Tomorrow, all will be normal. Sleep! It'll go away! It's just the night, it's just a trick, a nightmare, go to sleep —

Sleep —!

Sleep — slee — slp —

Hhhhhh —, and finally her body relaxed.

~

Have I been here before? It feels so familiar — like I'm home —

"Not yet, though one day you'll be," whispered a woman into her ear.

"Gaaaah!" shrieked Barbara, her own voice echoing in her head, spun around and tripped over her own feet. She fell slowly, and when her ass finally hit the ground, it felt good, like falling on a fluffy pillow. She sensed the shock wave of the impact rippling leisurely through her body. This was all just so very wrong — and yet so familiar...

Hands gently took hold of her and put her back on her feet. The hands' owners were but shadows in the corners of her sight. She only had eyes for the tall woman in front of her, but she couldn't make out any details over the blinding glitter of the apparition's tight, almost overfilled dress. She tried to look at her face, but it was gone from her mind the very next moment. Just the impression of a caring yet somewhat hungry expression remained in Barbara's thoughts.

"Who are you?" stuttered the fisherman's wife.

The strange woman without a face smiled, slunk closer and ran her fingertips along Barbara's neck and shoulders.

"A friend," was her delayed answer as she finished circling her and stood again face to face with the young woman. "We're all friends here. And we'd like you to become our friend, too." She gently leaned in. Her wet, pouted lips brushed over Barbara's.

"You — taste salty," stammered the confused girl. "Like my husband's seed."

She blushed, jerked back and slapped her hands over her mouth.

The tall woman smiled some more and cocked her head.

"You'll learn one day that there's a reason for this, my dear."

She closed in again. Her hand touched Barbara's cheek.

"And you like that taste, don't you?"

The stranger's fingers guided Barbara's jaw. She didn't resist, because it was inevitable, and it was right, so very right.

Their lips met, and the apparition's wet tongue parted Barbara's pouted lips and snaked into her mouth.

That's not quite a taste, Barbara thought. It was a hint of salt, and of something else. It was almost a non-taste, but it left her longing for more now when just a week ago it might've left her gagging.

"Mmmh," moaned the young woman. She wrapped her arms around the stranger's head and squeezed her tight. Her own tongue stretched into that salty, delicious mouth and sampled more of the alluring taste. Copious saliva trickled into Barbara's mouth. She swallowed it gladly. It tasted exactly like Dave's seed.

The chorus of voices started again. The silver-wrapped woman returned Barbara's fierce embrace, and the touches of the many body-less hands returned as well. Barbara squirmed happily. Her lips gnawed on the other's. Her tongue drew more of the salty goodness into her mouth. The trickle slowly turned into a stream, and its texture changed from water to a thick, hot fluid.

"Drink it," voices whispered by her side. "Drink it all. Oh, there's so much of it, all the better for you to swell."

The hands circled her midriff, and the more daring ones took caressing detours over her chest time and again.

"So much room in there," the whisper went on. "So much room, and so much milk waiting to be made. But first, the cow must be bred, she must be primed."

The other woman's embrace changed, her hands grabbed the back of Barbara's head, and she locked their lips solidly. She rolled back her eyes until only white shone out from under her half-dropped eyelids. Her body's spasms carried through Barbara's limbs as well.

She's a cock, shot through Barbara's mind, and her eyes opened wide. She's a giant cock looking like a woman, and now she's going to — to cum into me! She's — she's —

Drink! Drink! Drink! echoed in her head.

The tide spurted into her like a hot, solid rod being rammed down her throat. The invisible hands clutched her bloating belly and squeezed hard. Any little bulge projecting from between spread-out fingers met another cupped hand and was pushed back in moments later, until her midriff was stuck in a vise of hands, her skin almost humming from pressure.

"Do not want. No big belly. Not for into there," came the whisper.

Barbara convulsed, her body twitching with each rapidly coming wave streaming into her. The liquid that was forced down her throat tried to go anywhere. It soaked into her flesh and carried heat and delight with it. Fingers grabbed her buttocks, and they swelled under the touch.

"Good place," giggled a disembodied voice.

Drink! Drink! Drink! The chorus grew more urgent.

Another pair of hands ran along the underside of her breasts. Fingertips drew lines from her collarbones down to her nipples and met other fingertips coming from the sides.

"Better place," other voices whispered. "Not enough! Need more!"