Yrba's Travels Pt. 05

"W—w—w—w—we won't bother her!" she squeaked and turned to run. Mirca's big hand shot forward and closed around her shoulder. Francine yelped as the strong fingers ground her bones against each other.

"The witch is waiting for you," rumbled Mirca. "You don't want to make her wait any longer, do you, little thing?"

Francine's body went limp as she fainted in the blonde's grip.

"So, what— Oops. Red, I — I overdid it, didn't I?" whispered Mirca. She picked up the girl and gently laid the dangling body over her shoulder.

The bawd sighed and pinched the root of her nose as she rolled her eyes. "At least now she won't remember the way for sure."

~

Francine jerked awake, opened her eyes wide and shut them again right away. A red glow filtered through her clenched eyelids, and heat seared her face. She sat with crossed legs on a rough blanket, leaning forward and facing fire.

"I'm in hell now, right?" she whispered as she turned her head away from the glow. Blinking into the flickering shadows, the vague silhouette to her left turned into Red, and her racing heartbeat calmed down. Another jump of fear and surprise followed as she looked to her right and found Mirca sitting there. The giantess still watched her with furrowed brows, but she seemed a lot less threatening now.

And then the darkness straight across the fireplace moved and gained the fuzzy contours of a black, shaggy pelt. Two glowing dots appeared over the twitching and twisting flames.

Eyes. Francine almost fainted again as the creature moved closer to the fire and became frighteningly solid. Teeth flashed as the apparition spoke.

"Look who came to plead with the big bad witch. Or maybe you came for dinner? Maybe you are the dinner?"

The tongues of the campfire licked towards the stars and cast dancing shadows on Yrba's face. Her brown skin was almost black in the unsteady light. The white of her eyes reflected the red and yellow of the flames and turned her unblinking stare into a predator's hungry, calculating examination. Her wet, pink tongue pushed her dark lips aside and slithered over her glistening teeth. Francine shuddered at the sight, and her skin crawled, turning into goosebumps.

"Let me look at you," growled the creature, stooping over the flames. "The meat and bones. The real you."

Francine stared wide-eyed at Yrba and stuttered, "I don't understand—"

The witch straightened up. Chains jingled around her neck as they slipped into the deep valley between her breasts that showed in the triangular neckline of her fur coat. Her finger shot out and pointed at the two mounds on Francine's ribs.

"Oh, you do understand, young woman," hissed the witch. "Who you think you're fooling?"

The girl un-froze and fumbled blindly under her taut, protruding shirt and finally pulled two lumps of crumpled cloth out. The shirt sagged down, and not a hint of bust remained.

Yrba wrinkled her nose. "So you don't want bigger breasts, you want any breasts at all," she spat out.

"That's witchcraft!" gasped the girl. "I never told you! How can you know — Oh by the gods! You're reading my mind!" She slapped her hand over her mouth. "Forgive me for doubting you! I didn't mean to think those bad things about you!"

Yrba nodded, aloofly and slowly, while raising her eyebrows. So the boy — girl, she corrected herself — was going to be one of those clients. She longed to grab the woman and shake her long and hard, screaming to her face, You're flat as a board, and you come to a witch known far and wide as the big boob witch after blabbing to her friend about your heart's desire for a year, and you stuff your chest with towels to look bigger! You think anyone needs to read your mind to find out what you want? If that's witchcraft, then the sun rising every new morning must be a genuine miracle to you! Hello-ooo?!

But she was in the business long enough to solemnly rise to her feet, glare at her and haughtily declare:

"I forgive you, but I will not forget. I'll accept only six girls this year. Are you worth it? One of those could be yours." She held out her arm and opened her hand. A half-dozen of small vials glistened in the moonlight and the flickering fire. All the potion left after the disaster. She closed her hand around the faint greenish glow again and cocked her head. Francine nodded hastily while Yrba slowly circled her. The girl tried to keep eye contact without moving, but she would've needed to twist head to toe when the witch disappeared in her back, and that she didn't dare. Instead, she stared straight ahead, rooted to the spot.

"I can pay!" she stuttered into the tongues of fire, panting in fear. "I've got a few gold coins, it's not much, but it's all I can afford — oh please, you've got to help me, I can't stand the ridicule any more, they're so — here, take it, take it all, just —"

She fumbled in her pouch. The yellow coins dropped from her trembling fingers and jingled to the ground. The gypsy snorted disdainfully.

"What's that supposed to be? Loose change? A hundred times more would not be enough, young lady, not enough by far. If you want my services, I demand the right to your soul. You will live on my terms from now on, you will be ready and willing to follow my orders, every day, every hour, every moment. The moment you disobey, the moment you even think about paying no heed to my commands, your life will be forfeit in pains unimaginable."

The witch raised her eyebrows.

"You still want this deal?"

A nod, barely noticeable. "It can't be worse than the ridicule," muttered Francine. "Anything is better than that."

Yrba quickly bent forward.

"Then bare yourself head to toe!" she barked into the girl's ear from behind. "Now! And then raise your arms!" Francine startled. She reached for the buttons of her blouse with trembling hands, her elbows pressed into her sides.

"That goes for all of you!" hissed the witch, pointing at Red and Mirca. "I want you naked, with not a single shred of clothes." She shrugged her shoulders, and her own mantle slipped down, revealing nothing but bare skin underneath.

~

"You will never ever talk to anyone about this night, or so help me, you will suffer," snarled Yrba. She grabbed the huddled girl's arms and pulled them up over her head. Francine winced as pain shot through her shoulders. Rough rope was pulled tight around her wrists, and then the witch dragged her arms further back until Francine fell over and laid shivering on a blanket on the floor, with her feet pulled up and closed tight. The chilly air made her nipples stand from her plain ribcage. Yrba measured her up. Yes, the girl deserved a little break. She had meat on her bones, but not quite in the right places. Yet. Fate had dealt her a slight potbelly and almost boyish hips with no chest to detract from it. Just adding some boobs wasn't going to be enough. Yrba sighed.

"Mirca. Hold her down."

The blonde's strong fingers closed around Francine's wrists.

"Red, grab her ankles and straighten her out."

Now Francine started to wiggle around with her body stretched out between the giantess and the bawd.

"No, I — I changed my mind! I'll —"

"Hold her tight. Oh, how she'll squirm now, the poor little thing." Yrba chuckled ominously as she knelt down beside her. Her fingers grabbed Francine's jaw and dug into her cheeks. "Yes, let's turn that fresh meat into malleable jelly."

"Ohpleafe—," stammered the girl as the witch forced open her mouth.

"You don't want it? Now you tell me you don't want it? For your cowardice alone, I should hex you into a huge and helpless udder and put you right in the middle of the town place for all to see and milk, you chicken!"

"Merggy! Dom't! Leg ge go! Pleafe—!"

"Silence!" hissed the witch and bent deeper. The girl's breath raced.

"This is your final chance to balk, lass," whispered Yrba, hovering only inches from Francine's face. The scared girl's gaze darted frantically from the gypsy's left eye to the right and back again.

The witch sighed theatrically and held the vial with the greenish liquid up to her cheek. "Think fast now, Francine. Either you want tits, huge and soft and squishy and dripping with milk, now and for the rest of your life, or you'll never get another chance. Say no, and you can crawl back home and spend a merry life of delightful flat-chestedness, pondering what if every solitary night until you rot!"

She raised her eyebrows. The girl stopped struggling in her grip and hesitated.

Finally, she gargled, "Yeff, gif ig fo me," and nodded frantically.

Yrba popped the cork with her thumb and emptied the vial into Francine's mouth. The slimy juice ran over the girl's tongue in thick drops and clumps, clinging to the back of her mouth. Her stomach heaved, but she swallowed it bravely while her face contorted in disgust. Yrba let go of her jaw after she made sure the girl had downed it to the last drop and her mouth was empty.

"Good. Now, how much breast do you want?"

"If I can get it? As much as her!" Francine rolled her eyes to Mirca's bosom that shadowed her view of the starry sky. The two orbs hung over her head like a pair of shadowed moons, and the glow of the flames to the side painted two thin, bronze crescents on Mirca's smooth skin.

"You do not want that much," Yrba smiled.

"Then I want as much as you have!"

The witch nodded. "Good choice." She straddled Francine's narrow hip and bore down on the pubic mound with her buttocks' full weight. Her fingers wandered around the girl's nipples. She squinted, waiting for the telltale glow of the tincture to spread all the way through Francine's body.

"You'll get thirsty as they grow, Francine. Don't hold back. Drink. Drink a lot. Every gulp will help you get bigger."

"But I thought — I thought you'd make them big right here? There's nothing to drink—" Francine stared at her with confusion in her face.

"Oh, there is. There is plenty." Yrba looked at her sidekick. "Mirca, got milk?"

"This late in the evening? Uh, of course. I'm pretty full. Can barely hold it in. Why?"

"Would you mind then?" smiled the witch, nodding down towards Francine.

"Ah! Uh, wait —"

Mirca reached with one hand to her chest. Her other still was more than enough to hold both of Francine's wrists to the floor. The huge blonde cupped her heavy breast's areola and rolled the sweet strawberry of her engorged nipple between her fingers. She had forgone her afternoon milking especially for the occasion, like Yrba had told her.

"Oh yes, they're so heavy — any moment now — Mmmh! Wait, now — uh — I don't understand, it just won't — I'm clogged?"

"Let me help you," whispered Yrba and moistened her plump lips. Her hands stroked one last time over Francine's body before she drew her splayed fingers over the hot skin of Mirca's breast and lifted the mammoth melon to her pouted mouth. Her warm breath made the nervous berry throb just a little, and then she sucked it in. Her teeth nibbled gently on the rough skin while her wide-open, puffy lips pressed into the yielding areola.

"Uh!" gasped Mirca, and then she exhaled raunchily. Hot milk seeped onto Yrba's tongue. The witch let it flow over her lower lip, and it clung to Mirca's skin and ran in thick, white droplets along the massive curve.

"I'm melting — body, melting, oh please, I'm oozing — getting hot — thirsty," Francine stammered, staring greedily at the Damoclean breast hanging over her head and blotting out the night sky.

"Mmmh," groaned Yrba and let the swollen nipple out of her gentle bite.

Mirca's breathing came in deep, fast heaves.

"Now — oh Yrba, you really got it going — it's getting taut, I must let down —"

Stooping, the blonde aimed her engorged, thumb-sized, nectar-dripping nipple at Francine's gaping mouth. Francine ran her tongue out of her dry mouth and sampled the droplets falling on her trembling lips. She closed her eyes and rolled her head in delight.

"Sweet — want —," she whispered. Her chest rose as she drew back her shoulders and writhed, overwhelmed by desire.

Yrba put her palms on the flat chest under her. The first strands of magic whipped through Francine's body and tickled the skin on the witch's palms. She spread her fingers and focused on pulling. Francine felt it immediately, deep in her throat and spreading through every fiber — an emptiness inside her body she desperately needed to fill.

"Want—!" she gasped, stretched her neck and pouted her lips to catch the dangling teat in front of her face. Nibbling and sucking, she drew it into her mouth until her wide-open lips hung like a suction cup on the swollen areola.

"Mmmmh." Her eyes grew big. "Mmgph!"

Mirca groaned. She was far beyond full, and the witch's nibble had woken her body. Now Francine's warm lips, wet and soft and greedy, lit all the brimming glands at once. Francine struggled desperately to keep up with the nurturing torrent that filled her mouth in moments.

Yrba massaged the girl's rapidly developing chest. Under her fingers, little mounds swelled around the dark, wrinkled areolae and spilled sideways, laying a broad foundation able to carry with pride the massive shapes about to grow.

"Yes! Drink more! Drink faster!" she urged. Yrba's fingers wandered up to Francine's shoulders. The girl froze when the rough hands closed around her throat. Another strange incantation, and then the witch ran her fingertips caressingly over the fear-clenched larynx. Francine's throat relaxed and stretched. Suddenly, she felt her gullet widen into a two-inch pipe that led straight from her mouth to her stomach.

Francine didn't even try to suck on Mirca's tit any more. She drew a deep lung-full of air through her nose, held her breath and just started swallowing continuously with her throat dancing up and down. Warm, rich cream washed down into her stomach in one huge stream.

And then things moved fast.

~

The milk rushed in, and only a little of it forked into the swelling chest pads. The main rush shot right past and gargled into Francine's stomach. Her belly filled quickly as it stowed away the ample volume spewing from Mirca's breast. Yrba's fingers wandered down from the tiny, barely half-inch high boobs and focused on stroking the tautening, swelling orb that resembled a bloated, out-of-place udder more with every passing second. Little wisps of magic crept around its surface and held the expanding skin together.

"Yes, girl. Drink, my sweet heifer! Fill yourself up, make yourself big and round!"

I don't want more belly! Francine wanted to yell, but a strange weakness, together with the weight of the barrel-sized blob of warm milk, held her rooted to the spot. She couldn't move to shake the heavy bag of Mirca's boob and the teat that stuck deep in her mouth. The nipple's skin texture was mesmerizing to Francine's tongue, and its geyser of milk, spewing in tiny, tickling jets, tasted so delicious. She just had to keep on licking and nibbling the nub and swallowing the sugary, creamy stream, no matter what. She wanted to guzzle all of it.

And then, without warning, without announcement, the witch's fingers with the long fingernails dug deep into Francine's bloated belly. Something ripped in there as the udder split in two. Yrba grabbed the two lumps and shoved them up from Francine's midriff over her ribs.

Francine threw herself about. At least she struggled and tried, captured under the three women pinning her to the floor. The chunks of something moved through her flesh, rolling along under her skin in the witch's sliding grip and bubbled as they squeezed into the onset of breasts on her ribs. Yrba's fingers kneaded them like dough and molded them higher and higher, like lumps of heavy clay wrapped tight into her straining skin.

"Enough!" commanded the witch. The nipple disappeared with a smack from Francine's mouth, spraying droplets over the girl's sweat-covered face. She raised her head and gasped.

All the weird sensations had betrayed her. Nothing had ripped in her body. And instead of a belly, two elongated, bloated cones, ugly as hell, now protruded straight from her chest. The volume she had gobbled up stretched the skin over her ribs to almost unbearable tightness. A foot up from her chest, her nipples pointed at the sky with their bases in the areolae distending almost to palm size, the areolae themselves barely more than brownish rings marking the ends of two badly stuffed tube pillows of pink with disfigured, stretched tassle-teats on top.

"No!" she gasped. "Yech! I didn't want —"

"Relax," smiled the witch. "That's just a rough shape. We're not done yet. Now, let's sculpt them." Francine didn't like that smile at all. And then that strange woman's hands moved over her breasts. She cupped the girl's nipples in her palms and pressed her fingers like funnels over the top of the breasts. Now that was something Francine suddenly liked very much.

She hollered in heat as the weird filling in her breasts changed and became her own flesh, as she felt, not something strange that bloated her from the inside, but sensitive, soft volume that was hers, that quivered and shivered and sagged down, and every move of it filled her mind with delight. The tall cylinder-towers melted and spilled out in Yrba's gentle grip like sand castles under a wave and settled into two soft, huge pillows on Francine's chest. Yrba's forefingers circled the aroused, engorged nipples.

"That's more like it, eh?"

"Yeeeees," moaned the girl.

"Still a bit flat, though," Yrba added. "Have some more milk?"

"Mm-hmm," Francine nodded, licking her lips.

Mirca leaned forward and drew in air through clenched teeth when Francine snapped at the nipple and sucked it feverishly.

~

"Drink up!" commanded the witch. "We haven't got all night!"

"No! Fwoo bif awweffy," complained Francine and used her tongue to push the nipple from her mouth. "Too big! I didn't — hwwwaaaaah—nnnngghh!"

Yrba smiled and put the girl's breasts into wavy shakes while squeezing rapidly the areolae.

"Oh? Sure you don't want a little more? Galactorrhea immensus!"

Francine stared empty-eyed into the night sky. Her whole body caught fire again, burning with ecstasy. Deep in her breasts, the tissue contracted. Thin jets of white sprayed from her nipples and quickly gained in volume. She spilled the essence of breasts, in abundance, while her new flesh grew more solid and much more excited as the warm rivulets of milk coated herself, Yrba and Mirca.

More. More of that delicious milk. Yes, she needed more, if only to fight the flames and refill what so eagerly squirted from her breasts. Her mouth chased for the dangling udder in her face again.

"I think you can untie her hands now, Mirca," Yrba added.

The moment Francine's hands were free, she embraced the bloated milk bag of Mirca's breast and started squeezing the warm pillow, shoving the nipple deep into her mouth. White streams bubbled from the corners of her lips.

With every gulp, she expanded again and the delicious sensations kept growing along with her swelling chest size and stretching belly. Yrba, still straddling the girl, turned halfway, reached behind her back and dug her fingers into Francine's crotch. Clutching the excited labia, she made the girl's hips buck and quiver. Francine didn't hold back any more. She dug her teeth into the rough nipple, and Mirca groaned quietly.