.1

Siren Song, Part 4.1 — Beyond the Prize Cow

First Draft started 2008-06-17

This version 2012-09-02

Proof-reading: A very heartfelt

thank you

to CoffeePilot for his time and patience.

--

Altaerna — A world, where the laws of reality may become mere guidelines at any given time, where magic and machinery are intertwined, where all those things creeping in the shadows of fantasy may step forward onto the mind's stage.

This story unfolds in medieval times, around the 12th Century. 1185, if you're one for nitpicking.

~

A word of warning, before you even start reading: A lot of what happens in this story focuses on the rather weird fetish of Breast Expansion (BE) – from A to D, and occasionally up to and ultimately beyond the size depicted in Woody Allen's "Giant Breast" skit in "Everything you always wanted to know about sex" (the 1972 movie). If you thought that was hilarious, or unsettlingly arousing, you're more than welcome to continue reading. Of course this tale has action, tension and fighting (in short, "conventional" storytelling), too.

However, if you are put off by the sheer offbeat weird impossible flight of fancy that is BE, you probably shouldn't bother with this tale.

Thank you.

~

Once upon a time ...

The year is 1185, the world is Altaerna, and the place is somewhere in the temperate climate where people are mostly pale and mostly stubborn.

A winter ago, a lithe and lissom young woman saved a handsome young fisherman from drowning. The fisherman's would-be fiance, headstrong cold-hearted not-so-young Menena, the town's mayor and wealthy shop owner, didn't take it lightly when her trusted maid Barbara and her well-equipped secret boy toy David fell for each other hard and fast despite being unable to join in carnal pleasures (on account of Barbara's nethers being a thimble and David being ... rather more than that).

Consumed by jealousy, Menena saw to it that David was banned from the town, with Menena maligning him whenever she could. Barbara was given the boot but still found a little lenience in Menena's eyes for the years of service, so the lithe blonde was allowed to spend market days in the side streets where she's now trying to sell for a living the fishes that David catches with his tiny boat and his worn nets. The outcast couple of twenty-somethings got secretly married and made it through their first year, living a life of privation in a tiny hut atop the cliffs, hours from the town.

~

Part 1:

Spring has returned. Going for a swim while waiting for her husband's return, Barbara hits upon a drifting net chock-full of fish while her other half David makes but a single lucky catch out at sea. Reunited, the young couple retreats into their favorite hideaway to have another go at their most pressing problem, their inability to consume their marriage properly. Still unable to succeed, they resort to each other's dexterity like the many times before.

As Barbara prepares lunch gutting the fish David brought, she discovers a valuable pendant in its belly. Putting it on, she — is woken by her husband, hours later. Not only has she developed quite the appetite for the unfamiliar fishes that the new net seems to attract, she also suddenly succeeds in devouring herculean

meat

(wink, wink). When David sets out to a bigger and more distant town in an effort to sell more of his catches, Barbara ends up doing a little self-exploration on a moonlit night. She

also

ends up with quite some more

Barbara

before the night is through. After a day spent in fear and despair, and lucky for her self-conscious mind, a) most of it has disappeared again by the time Dave returns, and b) David doesn't mind the surplus left on her at all.

As the next market day comes around, Barbara squeezes into her now ill-fitting old clothes and is about to go on a quest for answers about what has befallen her, and her first stop will be the town's healer and midwife. Alas, the market isn't over yet ...

~

Part 2:

Following Barbara's erroneously assuring visit to the town's midwife, Barbara and David indulge in Barbara's new voluptuousness and carnal hunger. As her ever-increasing desires begin to overwhelm David's abilities, he searches for a second opinion on the strange pendant and gets advice from a young, traveling, bad-tempered, dark-skinned dancing girl called Yrba who also happens to be witch. Meanwhile, back home alone, another outbreak of multiple expansion hits Barbara as her strange visions once again cross over into her reality. When she wakes the next morning, more than just her most eye-catching attributes have changed ...

~

Part 3:

After David relays his tale of the meeting with the witch, Barbara allows him to hide away the pendant. Barbara's worries about her husband's response to her increased voluptuousness prove to be unfounded. As they celebrate their reunion after the days of separation, some of the power fueling Barbara's transformation is passed on to her husband, enlarging his one already oversized attribute even further while shielding their minds from becoming suspicious.

With David away on his next trip to the city, Barbara attempts to better her standing with her former mistress — and it backfires in ways that the poor young woman never would've expected. Weak, drained and more chest-heavy than ever, she staggers home ...

~

Part 4: Beyond The Prize Cow

Obscure inspirational music reference:

"So much larger than life / I'm gonna watch it growing" —

Peter Gabriel,

Big Time

~

Chapter 14: Home A-Grown

~

The sun neared the horizon. Barbara's shadow reached ahead of her as she staggered along the dusty pair of tracks in the scorching heat of the early evening. Tears fell from her ocean blue eyes and trickled down her narrow cheeks, leaving trails of salt in the layer of powdery earth on her face. Her slender hands clutched the rim of the tattered dirty blanket she kept wrapped around her head and chest. The rough cloth itched on her bare sweaty skin underneath, and each heavy step sent a shockwave of pain through the reddened, dangling, swollen pair of her breasts. Her dress was reduced to a torn and shredded skirt flaring over her wide hips and shapely buttocks, held up by a length of rope around her tapering waist.

She had passed her cart, hidden in the brushes by the roadside, but had given only a glimpse of consideration to dragging it along before clutching the enormous, aching, sagging spheres on her ribcage again. She was glad to be just strong enough to remain upright; to add anything to the load she was now forced to bear was unthinkable.

The crouching shape of the hut made from old pieces of ship wreckage slowly rose over the high grass wavering in the constant wind that blew in from the sea. A few blond strands of Barbara's long straight hair had snuck out from under the hood and danced in the gusts. The air carried the salty smell of the ocean together with the sound of the waves rolling onto the sickle of the shore beneath the cliffs behind the small building.

The chimney didn't smoke, and the door was firmly locked. Any hope of her husband having returned early was crushed by that sight. Barbara's legs trembled despite their alluringly toned, firm and strong appearance. After Menena had milked almost a bucket full of milk and strength from Barbara's chest the blonde now had to force her feet from the ground just to stagger along the slight downward slope leading from the seldom traveled road to the poor premises she called home.

~

Barbara reached it with the last few rays of daylight. She stumbled against the wall by the door and sagged to her right knee, her one hand clinging to the doorframe of her hut. With the other hand she dragged the smelly blanket from her shoulders and cast it aside. The chill of evaporating sweat on her skin sent shivers down her spine. With her last strength she turned around and dropped onto her padded buttocks. Barbara rested her aching back against the wall and gazed down, afraid of what might've been concealed under the cloth that now lay wrinkled by her side.

Especially from up close, the sight was both beautiful and uncanny. She was beyond bountiful in her chest. Her distended skin shone brighter over the ample padding that filled the two watermelon-sized udders. The outer rim of the breathtaking volume began on her flanks just below her armpits and surged forward in an almost perfect circle only disturbed by the nipples peeking over what from Barbara's point of view seemed like a far horizon. If she put her shoulders just a bit forward the pair almost touched over her breastbone, but resting exhaustedly against the wall the enormous milk bags hung slightly to her sides and kept their distance from the center, where the skin over her sternum formed not a crevice but a smoothly curved valley. Barbara put her hands under the most plumped part of the two dangling pumpkins and lifted them with wide-spread fingers. Straining skin and pliable

mass

shaped itself against her palms.

Thank goodness they're no longer bloated with milk. That cursed weed! I swear, that's got to be at least another couple of inches I gained this afternoon. Oh my, and Sandy's gonna gossip to just about everyone that I was daft enough to eat udder weed, if she doesn't make me into an outright stealing bitch with her tall tales. Why couldn't I have kept my mouth shut?

The circumference of her massive mammaries' bases on her ribs ached. Barbara reluctantly touched the reddened, hot skin.

Oh no! I was so full that it's now all torn and stretched out! And — those are stretch marks up to my collarbones! Can't leave those boulders hanging, it'll only get worse. Oh the gods, soft as they feel, I fear they'll keep on sagging and stretching until they hang down to my knees unless I put them on some kind of support —

Barbara strained upright again, cradling her pair gently. A shiver ran through her body at the sensation of her own arms' warm embrace. As she moved her thighs, her

other

lips down below salivated with an audible

shlurp

.

Mmmh! and they're so sensitive, I'm dripping yet again. Gods, I've been leaking milk and juices all day by the gallons, I'm parched. Need water. Lots of it.

Barbara eyed the bucket by the well and frowned.

Strange. Why does it feel like I've done this before? And why do I feel like I'll regret drinking it?

~

Half a bucket later, she slowly calmed down. The water she had pulled up from the well was refreshingly cold and it had done nothing to her but quenched her raging thirst. Barbara stepped inside and raised her buttocks against the workbench by the window, cradling her feminine load with one arm while leaning back and resting the other on the workbench's top among the few scuffed earthen pots.

And what am I going to do now?

she mused. Her fingertips fidgeted with something sleek and cool that didn't belong there. Barbara frowned in surprise and turned to look down.

The pendant's chain lay wrapped around her fingers.

Come on,

she almost heard it,

come on, put me on. You'll feel so much better if you put me on. I'll help. I'll make you happy. Mmmh, look at you! Oh, you're coming along nicely. Come now, put me into that sweet, sweet cleavage, let me rest against your aching skin, let my tender chilly touch ease your pain. Put me on, and feel like the lithe princess again. Come now —!

Barbara grabbed the silvery disk with the sparkling blue stone. Her hand trembled as she raised it to her face. She could have sworn that just for the briefest moment the blue stones had

winked

at her.

Yes, there's a good girl

, whispered something in the back of her head.

She moved quickly and suddenly. Opening the cupboard, throwing the pendant inside, slamming shut the door and staggering away took less than three heartbeats, and yet Barbara panted and trembled as if she'd just wrestled a shark with nothing but her bare hands for a whole hour. Her lips quivered, and she held her gaze on the coarse wooden doors, half expecting them to burst open any second now with the pendant jumping out and wrapping its chain around her throat.

How did it end up in here? It was gone! Hidden! My goodness, it's haunting me, returning again and again. Dave was right. It's evil. I must get rid of it, but I won't touch it again. He must bury it far away, or sink it somewhere far out at sea.

Drenched in cold sweat, Barbara slumped down on the chair by the kitchen table. One after the other she placed her aching pumpkins on the cool wood of the tabletop where the pliable flesh pancaked ever so slightly. Bent over the table, Barbara exhaled in relief. With her elbows on the table and her lower arms angled, her fingertips were just in reach of her nipples, and she caressed the reddened, engorged thimbles and the puffy areolas behind them.

Better. Phew! Oh the gods, they're sore to the core after what Menena squeezed from me. Need more time to recover. I can't have her coming over tomorrow to milk them again, they feel as if they'd split wide open if she grabs them just a bit too rough.

Barbara raised her hands and rubbed her forehead gently, trying hard not to cause any swinging or jiggling in the pair of jugs that spread out before her like two loafs of soft dough.

Can't afford to anger her either. I can't just be stubborn and refuse. How could I struggle with her anyway? She just needs to grab my breasts, and I'll fall to her feet, either in pain or begging to be milked again — or both.

I'll just have to beg and plead and hope there's still a bit of the Menena from better days in her. She's right, it's just a word from her, and it'll be pitchforks and the bonfire for me.

Tears welled in Barbara's eyes.

Gods, why me? I never wanted any of this! I just — why does fate do this to me? I never treated anyone wrong, I only ever wanted to get along and live a quiet life.

She hid her face in her hands. The tears came pouring out now. They fell from her palms onto the gently curved domes of her breasts and ran down into the dark crevice of her cleavage as she sobbed quietly.

Oh David, hurry home, I don't know what to do. I'm aching and worn and weak and I can't run and hide, not with these anchors tying me down.

~

Faint moonlight lit the kitchen when Barbara jerked awake again. She felt as if the town's blacksmith had been pounding away at her temples for hours, holding her whole head in a pair of tongs on his anvil. Her ears rung with a high-pitched noise that was more

in

her head than on the outside. She rose and regretted it the next moment. Exhaling as pain ignited deep in the now overstretched flesh on her ribs, she quickly lowered herself back down towards the table. The wood, warm from her breasts, took away the strain in her skin again.

Oh the gods, I slept on my own tits. I'm so big now, I'm my own pillows.

Barbara sighed.

Maybe they'll shrink again, now that the weed must've run its course? Should I have asked Sandy? Talked to Leta? Too late for that now, anyway. Can no longer show my face in the town.

She laughed hollowly.

The face, maybe. Those bags of milk? No way.

Felt like they'd tear off any moment. Must be gentle with them. Need to cradle them. But I can't walk around with my arms full all the time. Maybe a loop of cloth around them and tying it up behind my neck? Yes, that should do it. The linen from Dave's last trip to the city is still in the bedroom. Just need to get there without toppling over.

She lifted her left breast with her right hand, suppressing the delights that her own firm grasp injected into the yielding, malleable bag. Placing the elongated mammary into her left arm's crook, she moved on and put her right breast into her left palm.

There. Wow, truly the size of watermelons and heavy like a pair of buckets.

She wiggled her fingers against the warm load.

Mmmh. Feels a lot better than a wooden bucket, though

. A tired smile flashed across her face, and she flicked her left thumb against the nipple in its reach. Her eyes bugged and her knees gave way for the briefest moment. "Gods," she stammered.

Oooh — oh my, if that's what a single touch does, then I'm going to soak myself wrapping up those plump berries of horniness. Can't help it.

Her sad smile returned.

~

Barbara sat on her haunches and knees, a steaming puddle of her sex's thick juices between her slightly spread legs. She struggled to force air into her lungs. The strip of linen she had tried to tie around her chest now lay over her trembling thighs, and she swayed in the afterglow of the last mind-blowing climax that had her skin covered in droplets of sweat.

"No way," she panted. "So delicate! Can't have the cloth rub against my nipples, not even for another moment, or I'll pass out."

Her sharp knife made short work of the coarse linen and left frayed edges. Not bothering with fancy needlework in the nightly gloom of her bedroom, Barbara finished the second circular cut and dropped the blade to the floor. Kneeling by the side of her bed, she laid out the long strip again and stooped over the makeshift wrapper. Her hands held her sore mammaries as she aimed the engorged nipples at the two holes. Barbara bit her lower lip, stifling a lecherous moan as the rough bed sheet made contact. Racing against time as her arousal grew irresistibly with every tremble and shiver that dragged the rough fabric across her nipples' coarse skin, she grabbed the ends of the strip of cloth, tied a firm knot behind her head and rose slowly, pulling at the durable wrapper and prodding her supple breasts until the linen and her flesh snuggled together cozily. The ripe strawberries that were her reddened, turgid nipples peeked freely through the palm-sized holes, and the only sensation they gave Barbara was a slight chill from the wet coating of leftover milk. Her piling arousal that had threatened to reduce her to an endlessly squirting, moaning, swaying lump of trembling woman flesh waned.

"Oh, finally. That's not so bad now," she exhaled relievedly. "Still need to move slowly, they're malleable enough to slip out if I make a wrong move. At least my hands are free again, and I can walk with no fear of stretching my burdens into a pair of empty sacks dangling beneath my navel."

Barbara raised her right arm and kneaded her stiff neck. She felt her skin straining across her collarbones and over her shoulders despite her make-do linen brassiere bearing the brunt of the weight.

"Nnngh! Quite a load, even without any milk welling up. And what is it with my head? Now that the horniness is gone, why is it that this throbbing pain just won't go away? Maybe a little fresh air would do me good."

She rose and walked towards the only door, holding her hands at the ready just inches beneath her spheres that jiggled gently with every careful step. Barbara felt their added off-center weight as an unwelcome extra strain in her lower back. Her gait became surer and steadier as she gained confidence in her makeshift bra.

Straightening herself against the door frame, Barbara slowly opened the front door. A shiver ran up her shanks as the night air crept in around her feet. The sensation leapt across her midriff and landed right in her nipples. The sensitive buds crinkled and hardened, and Barbara gnawed on her lower lip. She blinked, only to find that she saw double now. Some more blinking put her eyesight right again, but the pressure in her head did not go away. If it changed at all, it was only for the stronger. Barbara raised her eyebrows, wrinkled her forehead and stared into the distance.