Siren Song Ch. 03

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."