Yrba's Travels Pt. 08

"I knew you'd come to your senses," smiled Yrba.

Moments later, a wet rag slapped against the back of the man's head, showering Yrba with a rain of droplets.

"Rupert! You daft? That's Yrba!" A countrywoman, well beyond her prime but obviously still blessed with a strong arm and aiming skills, hurried up to the gate. "I told you! Really, how many Darkskins do you think will come to these parts? Oh go back to the stables and pile the hay, you overzealous oaf!"

She picked up her improvised projectile and turned to the witch. Her weather-worn face turned into a smiling web of lines, and her deep, dark eyes sparkled. "Oh my, sweet darling, sorry for that welcome. I didn't know our wannabe law keeper even knew words like abomination. He married Jonah Wheatgrass' daughter and moved here, three winters ago." Yelling over her shoulder at the toddling man, she added, "And he should've listened to the womenfolk!"

Yrba embraced her and chuckled. "Oh, cut him some slack, sabertongue! I know full well I'm not my best-looking self right now. And you? Glad to see you're still around to set them straight, Martha. How's the sedentary life treating you, ya old knife-thrower? Still got your aim, I gather?"

"You bet! Ain't no crow for miles now that dares venturing near my vegetable garden. So what you got this time? Cloth? New spices? Oh my goodness, you're preggers again." Martha tenderly ran her snaggy fingers over the witch's spherical womb and shook her head. "Really, dear, you of all people should know how to not let that happen! When's the bundle of joy due? Last month, from the feel of it?"

"Oh Martha!" Yrba chuckled some more. "How many times have I told you, it's no bun in the oven, just an old witch's complaint acting up. I'll be lithe and lissom again by the next moon."

The elder woman laughed. "You'll never be lithe, sweetheart, with those melon mams of yours. Still got all the menfolk losing their minds over your cleavage, eh? And I see you're treating my old coach well. Could stand a fresh layer of paint, though. Ah, the traveling days. Good old times. Not that I'm complaining, Mervin's still the gentleman he was when we got hitched and settled down." She winked. "He could do with a drop or two of your potion though. Me too. Ain't getting younger, the both of us. I don't know how you do it, but you don't look a day older than when you first showed up at the circus!"

She nodded towards Mirca. "Glad to see you got it made, seeing how you can afford your very own guard! Such muscle would've been a sure boon in them old days. Oh, you've got to tell us what's happening all over the shires. Hurry, hurry! I'll call in all the neighbors!"

~

"What a day! I'm beat."

Yrba pursed her lips and blew out the candle. Darkness enshrouded the two shapes, cuddling on a blanket in the hay of Martha's stable. Mirca snuggled closer to the witch's back and ruffled Yrba's thick black hair.

"They came from miles away to see you, from afternoon all through the evening! You're very popular, aren't you?"

The witch smiled and flicked a fingernail against a small leather pouch by her side. It went tink in the worldwide language of tightly-packed coins. "Ooh, yes, I'm popular as long as they need a healer. Oh well. They paid promptly and didn't complain or haggle much, that's what I found remarkable."

"Yes, but they talked among themselves and whispered and looked at me all the time!"

Yrba's huge belly jiggled as she laughed. "These things might've something to do with each other, my dear."

Mirca's fingers stroked the round protrusion. "But I've not said or done a thing, just leaned against the doorframe like you told me to. That was boring." She pressed her fingertips into the rubbery ball. "Mmh, you sure are extra cuddly and squishy tonight. I could just go on rubbing and rubbing you all the time. Another week before you — y'know, tap it, right?"

Yrba nodded mutely. She wiggled into Mirca's soft bosom and reveled in the air of protective strength and safety that her friend's strong and sure arms and body exuded abundantly. The giantess' fingers circled and tickled the gypsy's body playfully, returning time and again to the heavy, sagging bag with the protruding navel, gently kneading the straining skin. Yrba exhaled as a sweet wave of weakness, of melting away into the splayed fingers, rushed over her.

Why am I so — so relaxed? I've never felt like that before. What are you doing to me? I wanted to be strong. I wanted to get by on my own, to travel, to never ever settle down. And now you've got me dreaming of a home, of my own place somewhere, settling down like Martha did — she's so happy, maybe — I can't — I shouldn't — what if, no, it must not be —

Mirca's splayed fingers of one hand cupped Yrba's bloated womb, and her other hand wandered up until it cupped the dark-skinned woman's ample breast and rolled the soft flesh in its palm. Yrba sighed delightedly and let her doubts and worries drown in the warm embrace. She turned her head over her shoulder, and Mirca leaned in. Halfway, their lips touched for an innocent kiss goodnight.

Just hold me forever like this, my giantess.

~

Forever ended a few hours later, when Yrba stirred in her sleep and rolled about. Something wet coated the inside of her thighs. Still sleepy, she fingered down her body and sank her probing middle finger into the curls-covered opening.

Suddenly, she was wide awake. Something else inside her also widened, slowly, inevitably. She turned in place and grabbed her sleeping companion.

"Mirca!"

The blonde barely moved as Yrba's fingers clawed into her upper arm.

"Wsemmfta?" she mumbled.

"What's the matter?! Mirca, wake up! I'm leaking! It's coming early! Hurry, quick, get the cauldron!"

Yrba groaned. Just shaking Mirca's arm had almost overwhelmed her straining cervix. Dammit, I've really managed to overdo it this time. She clenched her teeth. Not now, not here! I can't afford to lose another batch!

"Mirca?!"

The blonde struggled to her feet, cast the blanket off her shoulders and grabbed Yrba's ankles.

"No time. Let's take you to the cauldron instead!"

"Miiiiiii—!"

The world spun around the witch, and then she hung upside-down, with Mirca's full breasts pushing into her lower back and Mirca's shoulders in the hollow of her knees, while the huge girl's hands held the witch in front of her, carrying the heavy, wobbling orb of Yrba's belly like a huge pot.

"Mirca! Oh gods, you're squeezing it out! I'm about to —"

Slurp.

"—Ooooh!"

"Wu wommf!"

The blonde pushed her head between Yrba's thighs and wrapped her lips around the wide-open clam that already filled with potion. Mirca's thick tongue plunged into the depths of the witch's funnel and plugged the gap in the straining cervix.

"What are you doing?! You mustn't drink more of it! Mirca, heavens, no! Don't swallow!"

"Fuff uff! I mow!"

Yrba's soft, huge breasts bounced about wildly and slapped her in the face time and again while Mirca hurried around the shed in long strides. She took her gypsy's straining belly in a one-armed headlock and rattled at the cart's door. Yrba flailed and fought to keep her head from knocking against the stairs.

"Dammit, hurry! Gods, girl, hurry! Unnngh—!"

Her womb grew tauter by the second, and Mirca's arm, squeezing her tightly, didn't help. Twitches and cramps flashed across her overstrained skin that after the weeks of tension just wanted to contract again, stronger and stronger.

Clang. Ker-boink. Oioioiong.

Sluuuurgh.

The bung of Mirca's tongue slithered out of the witch's depths. Yrba felt turned and twisted around, and then she sat on the rim of her cauldron that cut into her thighs. She needed a few seconds to make sense of the words up and down again.

"There!" panted Mirca. "We did it! You can let it out now!"

Yrba clutched her belly. It felt close to bursting, but the witch suddenly knew it wouldn't. Whatever had happened, it had reversed, and, even worse, reversed only halfway. Her womb said gush, and her snatch had cramped up again and said no. And that wasn't good. It meant pain. The strain and ache grew stronger. She had trouble breathing and gasped for air. The glowing green flood in her womb struggled for a passage through the sole way out and barraged against a puckered-up, overstrung muscle that was stuck in a huff.

"Yrba?"

"Help — me ...," moaned the witch.

"What — how —?!"

"Too — tense, my belly — the hole, won't open — uuungh!"

"Yrba—"

"Cuddle — me," begged the witch, shaking all over.

Mirca knelt down, with the cauldron between her feet and the curled-up shape of Yrba, her body almost wrapped around her own udder-taut belly, in front of her. The giantess gently wrapped her arms around the round shape. Her fingers wandered round and round the straining, sweaty skin, her fingertips were warm spots creeping over the silken surface.

"Ahhhh—," exhaled Yrba. "Yes—mmmgh!"

Mirca's forefinger, very womanly in shape, but not in sheer size, touched Yrba's full lips. The witch drew it into her mouth and coated it plenteously with her warm saliva. They had played these games before, and Mirca had a good idea of what Yrba longed for now. The dripping digit disappeared into the fold underneath the bloated belly and tickled searchingly through Yrba's black curls.

"Mmmmmh—!"

Its moist warmth found the witch's engorged lust button and rimmed it gently. Her throaty breathing changed in moments. Yrba threw back her head and offered her mouth to the giantess cuddling her bloated figure.

There was nothing innocent about their kiss now. Mirca's long, plump tongue spread Yrba's full brown lips and entered the pink cave of her mouth like the most virile dick the witch could even begin to think of, and the Darkskin's nubby tongue dueled the erect invader with all her cunning. Her thighs opened wider as her hip started to buck in the rhythm of Mirca's rubbing and prodding forefinger. Tickling and itching slowly worked its way up inside Yrba's hungry clam. The mucous membranes swelled and began to drip, and finally the spreading readiness reached the ceiling of her love tunnel. The cervix slowly relaxed, and as the wrinkles in the puckered muscle smoothed, the pent-up potion started oozing through the widening gap.

Tink. Drip-Drip. Dribble.

"Mh gmmmh! Mmmmggghhh!" Yrba tried to holler and yell in her orgasm's throes, but Mirca's lips, locked tight with hers, robbed the screams from her lips. The witch reflexively clenched her thighs shut, and the length of her vagina filled and stretched thick and full as the deluge conquered the next leg on its way out, only to slam head-on into one final barrier. Yrba's eyes rolled back. Wave upon wave of sheer, blissful ecstasy sloshed through her mind, and her body went into tremors interspersed with spasmodic shakes.

Mirca's hands grabbed the witch's knees and forced them apart. Yrba's plump labia domed, still holding tight against the potion that nevertheless seeped through the wrinkles and folds. The blonde fumbled blindly in her helpless, sex-consumed mentor's pubic curls for the cramped crack. One fingertip struggled in, then another. Mirca pulled the wrinkly folds wide open. Hot liquid boiled over her fingers, and the inside of the cart lit up with the green glow of the foaming, bubbling, raw tincture as it shot out through the blown gasket in one massive bolt of light and collected in the cauldron. Yrba shook and bucked in the giantess' arms as the refined juice finally gushed from her womb in long, thick pulses brought about by the spasms of her gap. Mirca's fingers moved higher, hefted the shrinking orb and kept on massaging and kneading the contracting skin long after the last glowing drop and viscous filament had dribbled from the witch's crotch and Yrba's waist had shrunk back from bloated ball to the slight hourglass of an exotic dancer.

Stammering words of gratitude, the witch slipped down from the iron receptacle and sagged back into the warm, soft milk pillows of her giantess. Mirca leaned against the caravan's small cupboard and was also busy catching her breath. She fingered the sticky puddle on the floor beneath her legs.

"Uh, sorry, I — I got sort of carried away and my juice dripped on the boards. I'll clean it up as —"

Yrba shut her up with a wet smooch. "Don't you dare! No, I'll do it for you. Hell, I'd lick up your sweet honey, but I don't want to end up with a mouth full of splinters. Stupid cheap floor." She wiggled against the warm, muscle-stuffed shape of her friend and turned her eyes to the cauldron and the glowing liquid that spun slowly inside.

"We're back in business!"

~

To Be Continued...

... and I really crave comments, both good and bad. Feel free to have at me in the text box below. Hey, a simple "nice" or "eww" is enough to make me cackle with glee.

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