I. The Drain
Amie turned to close the wooden door to her rented room. As a traveling apprentice of the Scholar's Guild she often made do with the barest accommodations; this backwater country inn was certainly no exception. The door was mounted on a sliding rail, unusual in her travels but stirring fond memories of a dairy farm near the Guild where she'd sometimes wander in her free time. She smiled as the door slid closed with a satisfying
*thunk*
and turned to face her room.
Immediately she noticed that the stone floor was of peculiar construction, angling down from all four corners towards a small drain in the center of the room. Atop a small table next to a generously-sized bed, she spotted a familiar-looking large metal bucket. Despite her curiosity, she couldn't give her room much more thought, as a distracting pressure in her bosom had been building for hours into a more urgent problem. Two problems, really.
The roads in this remote southern kingdom had been treacherous and slick with rain, so she had not stopped even once to relieve herself since that morn. Her needy breasts now almost demanded her attention, swollen with nearly a full day's burden of her delicious milk. She paced gingerly towards a full-length mirror mounted near the bed, taking the last few steps very slowly, her huge sensitive bosom bouncing lazily in her robe around her waist.
She sat on the edge of the bed to kick off her boots, then stood in her bare feet facing the mirror. Her milk-swollen breasts dominated her torso, entirely obscuring her hips and waist in her reflection. She grasped at the small silver charm dangling on a necklace just above her cleavage.
ê“
One week earlier, she had been sitting in the front row of Mistress Yvette's lecture hall. She had developed a special affection for Yvette, whom she had long considered to be her favorite among the mistress scholars, and today she had been teasing her mistress by allowing her robe to fall open during class. She would wait to capture the mistress' lascivious gaze, then slowly cross and uncross her long stocking-clad legs.
After the lecture had ended, Mistress Yvette, looking flushed, had pointed to a small tear in Amie's stockings that revealed her bare skin -- "Most unbecoming of an aspiring scholar," the mistress had intoned -- and demanded she accompany her to her private chambers.
Some time later, a sweaty and unkempt-looking Amie had staggered out of the mistress' chambers with a few more holes in her stockings, much less milk in her breasts, and an unusual gift. The mistress had insistently pressed into her hands a bundle of cloth, which she had slowly unwrapped to reveal a small silver charm. The mistress had told her only that it contained powerful magic and urged her to bring it along on her travels, that she must keep it on her person at all times, and she mustn't allow anyone else to touch it.
But there must have been something else, she recalled.
"There's something else," Mistress Yvette had said as Amie was leaving her chambers. "This is the liquid charm. Seek the glory of its wetness in the kingdom of Sweetwater."
ê“
Amie bit her lower lip to quiet herself. She almost fully extended her arms, her fingertips now hovering just above the plainly obvious points of her erected nipples in the chest of her scholar's robe. She grasped both turgid teats, thrilled at their hot firmness and immense size and how sublime they felt in her hands even through the soft fabric.
Suddenly the lower third of the mirror was covered with a fine spray of milky whiteness. Her knees shuddered at the delirious sensation of her uncontrolled lactation, amazed at the incredible pressure of her milk spraying through the fabric. She exerted no small degree of mental focus to regain control, her milky spray slowing to a trickle that continued to stain the inside of her robe. She flushed at the feel of hot milk dripping down her sensitive bare skin.
Not yet, girls,
she thought,
but I'm nearly at my limit!
She frowned at herself in an unsoiled part of the mirror. The small silver charm on her necklace sparkled in the dim candlelight. Her brown curls tumbled down below her shoulders and her light blue robes indicated her rank and status as an apprentice of the Scholar's Guild. Her robes had clearly been intended for a much more petite girl, though, and on her busty figure the cloth didn't even extend as far as her knees, leaving her toned calves and thighs mostly exposed.
Not that she'd inspire much scholarly respect right now with such embarrassingly large wet spots around her nipples, and showing so much leg too, she thought. Her frown slowly turned to a smile.
If only Sister Katryn could see me now!
She knew this to be her unique milky affliction. Despite the occasional burden, she couldn't help but admit she loved her milk and the carnal need it seemed to inspire in others. Even the mistress scholars of the Guild couldn't seem to help themselves around her, but she could still sense their disapproval, for her marvelously prolific milk was a mystery they could not explain by citing a passage from one of the tomes in the Great Library.
She beamed with pride knowing that even the Grand Archivist herself couldn't measure up to the stupendous size of Amie's milk-swollen breasts, which could project nearly to her hands with arms outstretched and hang below her waist when engorged as much as she knew herself to be at present.
Her fellow apprentices, for their part, envied the outsize attention rendered upon her even as they found it hard to resist her generous spirit, loving touch, and her more personal charms. She had spent many nights at the Guild enthusiastically sharing her gifts with the younger girls as they tried to induce similar effects in themselves, often with her hot milk as the principal ingredient of some magical cantrip. She was happy to oblige those efforts and indulge herself at the same time, for there was little she enjoyed more than easing her milky burden while sharing with a girl at her dripping nipples.
Lost in her own reflection in the mirror, she fondly recalled one such night at the Guild only one week prior, on the eve of her departure to the southern kingdom of Sweetwater.
ê“
Sister Katryn, a first-year scholar with fiery red hair who within her first week at the Guild became quite smitten with Amie, had been reclining next to Amie in the gardens just outside the Guild. Atop their discarded robes, the two girls shivered together for a moment from the gentle lick of an early evening breeze across their nude bodies. Kat was sucking noisily at Amie's right nipple, and she could see only the top of Kat's beautiful red curls over the generous curve of her swollen breast.
Kat gulped and swallowed Amie's delicious milk for long idle minutes, now and then taking short breaks to leave quick loving kisses all around Amie's chest. Amie's substantial breasts were gradually covered in a fine sheen of their own effusive production.
She reveled in sharing such intimate closeness with the younger girl.
"You're so beautiful, Kat! I love your mouth on my nipples." She used both hands to squeeze a small area of her huge right breast and heard Kat's surprised moan around her teat, briefly overwhelmed by the sudden increase in flow.
She couldn't help but chuckle. "Drink all you like, my sweet Kat," she gushed. "There's so much and it's all for you."
Kat was always such a generous lover, and on this occasion she clearly felt the need to demonstrate her thanks to Amie even as she expressed Amie's delicious milk.
Kat had started slowly but firmly twisting her shoulders even as she continued to suckle on Amie's nipple, sliding her own not insubstantial bosom back and forth across her girlfriend's nude abdomen and groin. Amie couldn't help but giggle as Kat's hardened nubs tickled her just so, then moaned with the raw erotic sensuality of feeling them drag across her bare pussy.
Kat's nipples had always been extremely pronounced, quick to harden and often betraying her arousal at the most inopportune moments. Her unruly nubs towered above her breasts, slippery with Amie's milk. Her teats had become intimately familiar to Amie, objects of fascination to her loving hands and mouth. She knew just where Amie wanted her, and she shifted her weight to achieve one of their favorite positions together.
"Oh, Kat!" Amie wailed. Kat's teat had suddenly found itself trapped between the folds of Amie's pussy. Amie thrilled at the sensation, feeling a cloudy haze of arousal blanket her mind.
Amie urged her on, whispering, "Yes! Give me your nipple! I want it in my pussy!"
Kat grinned to herself around Amie's nipple in her mouth and twisted, leaned, and shuffled forward until she had slipped her teat firmly inside Amie's pussy. She moved both hands below her breasts, lifting and rubbing one nipple along the inside of Amie's bare thigh and the other in lazy circles up and down Amie's lower lips. Her spectacularly erect teats were lubricated by a heady mixture of Amie's milk and the juicy production of Amie's pussy, dripping along her breasts and down her body.
Several long minutes later Kat had raised her head from Amie's right nipple, her red hair damp and matted with Amie's milk and their shared exertions. Amie's mind was foggy with arousal and it took her a few moments to realize that Kat was leaning in close, looking expectantly at her with a curious close-lipped smile. A small rivulet of milk escaped Kat's lips, running down her chin and dropping onto the expanse of Amie's breasts, splattering little white droplets onto them both.
