Siren Song Ch. 02

The heat of the torrent filling her up wormed through her flesh, drawn in by the kneading and prodding. Her skin burned, she felt the rising tension as the spongy, soaked padding in her breasts stretched and expanded. It struggled against her skin's milky-white wrapping and made the flushed areolae bulge.

Drink! Drink! Drink!

A single fingertip tapped against the hood of her clit. The young woman jerked in the trammels of the hands holding her in place. Two more hands closed around her ankles. Their grip changed slowly, flattening until the palms and fingers laid flush against the insides of her shanks. The fingers wandered higher, caressing her legs' insides. Tips first, nails scratching her skin every now and then, they passed her knees and ventured up her thighs.

"Best place," moaned another voice.

Barbara couldn't agree more, if only for a couple of heartbeats. She was brimming now, and that new hand kneaded her labia, it rubbed her swelling, reddening flesh as it was pumped bigger from the inside. Fingers slid between her plump outer lips and slowly opened her. The swarm of slippery hands stroked all over the insides Barbara's thighs.

Slick and warm, the finger returned and traced down the pink crevice. It pushed lightly against Barbara's pee hole before it went deeper and found the wrinkly gate, rimming the folds, dipping in time and again.

"Wrong, she is," whispered a voice by Barbara's ear. "Her insides, a girl's of the land. Not ready for our pleasures. Too small. Too tight. Still too tight."

"Glarg?" stammered Barbara into the seal of her feeder's lips.

"Not wrong," a warmer voice objected from the other side. "Just different, not quite ready. The moon is strong tonight. We will make her right, now."

One finger squeezed into her moist hole, then another. Barbara's vulva spread and stretched, the cone of fingers slid in deeper, her lips were pulled wider. Barbara's labia strained over a set of knuckles and contracted again. The fist in her started pumping up and down, gently at first but rapidly gaining speed and depth. Barbara tried to throw back her head, but the other woman's hands cupped it and held her in place.

Two more fingers, from two different hands. The fist inside her didn't stop while the new arrivals hooked into her reddened swollen flesh and pulled outward. The squelching and smacking grew louder as the piston drew air. Barbara's climax closed in, and a big one at that. Her nethers were blazing with arousal.

More fingertips struggled in, belonging to two hands that placed themselves flush against the lower arm inside her as it was almost pulled out. The massive presence slid back in, and the pair of reinforcements that tripled its girth rode along all the way into Barbara. She felt her hips' bones widen under the strain, her skin was pulled taut, then tauter still as the three arms parted inside her. Her womb swelled against the hip of the woman in front of her who didn't let up feeding her the strange and salty liquid by the gallon. More hands dived into her. In this twilight world, Barbara's womb made room easily. She sensed how her thighs rode apart and her hips took on the shape of a wide cone. Her insides were stroked in places never meant to be stroked. Throngs of fingers walked among her inner workings, tugging at them, fondling them, pulling and shifting them around. Knuckles and fingers, wrapped around strange tubular shapes, showed on the drumhead of her womb's overfilled skin until things inside her calmed down again.

"Right, she is now," announced the first voice full of contentment.

The swarm of hands surged out of her like fish spilling from a tightly-packed net, their slippery, slime-dripping shapes flapping down her thighs as her straining skin contracted again until only one hand, clenched into a tight fist, remained inside her and kept pumping up and down her vagina persistently. Barbara could sense and trace its every knuckle and pad, she felt her belly's skin as it stretched to make room for the voluminous piston of flesh and bone. Her cave now guided the thrusts along her front and not towards her back and inside, and no longer was there any of the discomfort of being overfilled, of her delicate tissue being forced through and against the ring of her hips. She felt soft and malleable all around her sex, her body ready and willing to accommodate any bone thrown her way. Barbara almost sighed when the arm left her with a shluurgh.

Another brazen forefinger touched her clit, only to slip lower and into her gaping hole by about an inch. The thumb came down on her lust thimble and trapped her flesh in a pinching hold, rolling and squeezing it quite a bit beyond a light touch.

Barbara's eyes bugged. Her new vagina bubbled as the dripping opening contracted, then that clench raced along the tube of muscles all the way to her insides. The cramp turned into waves of flexing and sucking, coming faster and faster until she climaxed like a geyser, erupting with pent-up seed from every hole that wasn't used to pump her with the gallons upon gallons of heat. Her eyes rolled back and the world of delights descended into blackness as she fell, tumbling deeper and deeper, still clinging to that creature as it forced yet more of the liquid into her mouth —

~

"Oh gods ... oh the gods ..." moaned Barbara, twisting helplessly. "Don't — no more, no more, I'm — bursting — full — ouch!"

She stubbed her toes on the bedpost and jerked awake. Her head spun. She blinked and looked around. Ceiling. Wood. Side of the bed. Cold floor against her aching back. She distinctly felt a bruise or two on her ribs where her tumble from the bed had landed her right on her sandals.

How did I get into my bed? Last thing I remember, I was mending the seams on my gown, then something about being fat and round —

Clenching her eyes tightly and holding her breath, her trembling fingers neared her belly. She exhaled loudly when they told her that nothing was wrong at all with the firm landscape of muscles beneath the cutest, sleekest layer of padding.

Oh heavens, I could have sworn I was knocked up beyond belief. No, wait, that doesn't make sense either. So Leta was right about 'just in the mind' after all. I must've been out of it yesterday. Must've been the heat, just like when Sandy started babbling about dragons, that one time after she'd spent the whole day out in the fields and forgot her water bag, the daft chit.

Hold on — ewwwww! What the blazes is that?

The insides of her thighs were coated in cold, sticky liquid that had partially dried. The few thin, barely visible hairs she had growing on her legs were glued to her skin now. No, worse than that, they were glued to the other leg's skin. As she started to move, the nipping and pinching accelerated her awakening significantly. The smell of marine life that rose from her lower body was very nearly palpable.

Ugh! Gods, is there any way this could be more embarrassing? groaned Barbara. I know I've always been a juicy one, but that's just ridiculous! If Dave were here, he'd have thrown a fishnet over me by now. And knocked me over the head with a peg, and I couldn't even blame him. What is wrong with me? What happened yesterday, I can't quite — what's wrong with my head?

Licking her lips, she struggled to her elbows. Something moved in front of her, it slid and shifted as her upper body came up. Barbara didn't need to turn her gaze down much to glimpse the change. The first light of morning revealed that no human being in the whole world would've called what now bulged from her chest a mere handful.

"What the—?!" she screamed. Moments later, she was on her feet. It did nothing for the carousel in her head.

~

Her fingers wandered over her body, and slowly the distressed young woman calmed down again. Barbara explored her new shape, curvy and voluptuous, now rivaling the breathtaking figure of Menena, her former mistress from the village. No, strike that, she corrected herself. Her fingers walked over her slightly padded but supremely shapely midriff.

No way! My waist is thinner than hers! And thank goodness I'm not as wide in the hips as she is. And those —

Barbara felt up her underboobs and ran her thumbs along the soft outer curve of her mams. Her breasts' bases had widened. Their skin's outward curve started almost an inch further to Barbara's flanks than the day before. She squeezed the warm masses in her hands. "Goodness, they're big!" gasped Barbara. Her hands continued the cheeky inspection. She sucked her lower lip between her teeth and groaned quietly.

Heavens, does that feel good! She breathed faster while trying to suppress the arousal kindled by her curious fingertips. The bulk's about the same as Menie's, but they're neither hanging down to my navel nor sagging against my ribs, like hers.

Another squeeze, just to make sure.

Not much sag, at least. No, it's barely sagging at all. Should I visit Leta and show her? Then again, 'never as bad as in the mind' doesn't mean that nothing's going on, just that it's not as much as — heh, I could have sworn they were much more than the size of my head. This? Must be about the size of a small melon. That's still bearable. But —

She stamped her foot in anger.

Damnation, all the sewing I did yesterday was but a waste of time!

She kneaded some more, just to get a feel for her new breasts.

Barbara frowned. What little sagging there had been only moments ago, now it was considerably less, almost nonexistent. And the dents her fingers made didn't go so deep any more.

Uh, they feel stuffed now, I'm not sure if that's supposed to —

Salt. Salt in her mouth. All of a sudden, the taste from weeks ago was back. It wasn't as acerbic now, though.

Her nipples started to itch as they hardened, and heat began to boil in the overfilled orbs on her chest. She felt her breast flesh grow firmer as it rounded out. Under her skin, liquid moved towards the mammillae while they contracted and poked forward from the upwarding areolae.

"Right," Barbara breathed nervously. She had no clear recollection, but the vague, orgasm-blurry pictures of that one time with Dave pointed to only one possible outcome.

Oh no! They're about to spray! Nnngh—! Just — like with Dave — the last time — need to go outside — else — mess in here —

Pinching her nipples as hard as she dared, she staggered into the yard and dropped to her knees, stark naked in the morning sun. Barbara craned her neck to eye the taut skin of her bulging boobs as they swelled towards her chin. Her brimming breasts' undersides fitted pleasingly well into her cupped hands as she changed her grip from choking to supporting her globes of womanliness.

Gods, so full, so heavy — need to squeeze it out —

Her fingers poked and pulled at her nipples. The thimble-sized protuberances were painfully hard, and the domed areolae behind them felt like little pockets chock-full of milk. A squeeze, and Barbara's fingertips slipped and slid easily, now dripping and lubed with the first spray. She sagged to her haunches. Her kneading and rubbing coated all of her chest with the glistening, fatty liquid.

Yes, oh yes, out with it, overflowing —

The dry dirt in front of her received dark spray marks as long, thin arches of milk jumped from the many pores in her nipples and seeped away into the dust. Soon, Barbara sat at the center of a spider's web of milk lines. Instead of emptying the hot three-quarter spheres in her hands, the kneading and squeezing only incited her glands to give it their all.

"Ghhh — Nnnghhh — Guuurrrrghhh—," Barbara moaned and panted. She didn't need to dig her fingers into the reddened, swollen flesh any more. All her ducts and glands emptied in a frenzy, spraying yard-long jets and squirts with total abandon. She just swayed and bucked on her haunches, holding on to the sensitive, oblong globes as they let down, and down, and down.

~

The sun had risen an hour into the day when the strange new delights finally ebbed and Barbara was able to catch her breath again.

Oh the gods, I didn't need that at all, she muttered to herself as she struggled to her feet and gazed at the strange milk painting all around her. All of that — out of me? How much did I squirt? A bucketful?

Felt mighty good, though, something else in the back of her mind added, and she was in no position to object while she patted down her curves, swiping off the last stray droplets from her breasts' glistening skin that felt soft and tender now. Yes, there was a lot of delight in that. Barbara frowned nevertheless when she cupped her mammaries. I swear they're even bigger now. Must be the size of my head. Is there milk still pent up inside? She squeezed them, and the firm pressure fired up the nerves all through her globes, sending a shockwave of lust into her body. Another squeeze, and viscid wetness welled between her legs.

G—gods! Oh my, I could learn to like that, I really could! moaned Barbara, holding perfectly still to quench the sudden urge.

And Dave's going to like this even more, she pondered. Now he's got his wife and that hussy's body, and all the milk he can swallow. With her hands on her narrow waist, she bounced up and down. Her pliable yet firm breasts rebounded a few more times, and her buttocks gave her similar sensations. Nice as they are, I sure hope that's the last growth spurt, I'm now quite womanly enough for my taste.

~

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To be continued ... in Siren Song Part 3: Ensnared And Enslaved!
And if you're wondering where the mermaids are, then don't miss Siren Song Part 4: No Other Way

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Well ... you know the usual whine of amateur scribblers through the ages? Here it comes again: Please rate. And/or comment. You know, preferably and. It doesn't take long, but to us authors, it's part of what makes writing stories worthwhile.

Thank you.