Pt.2 — Under Soiled Doves' Wings
by
Paul Gerard
(a pen name)
Part 2 of a 12-part tale, laced heavily with lesbian encounters and strange transformations.
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.
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.
The time of this story is similar to the 12th century of planet Earth.
What happened so far:
Part 1 — Jailbreak:
Jailed in neighboring cells, two very different women are waiting for their execution: Yrba, the traveling gypsy witch, and Mirca, the servant girl. In a last desperate bid for freedom, Yrba feeds Mirca a whole gallon of enhancement potion and uses her swelling body to break down their cell's walls. And thanks to Yrba's prowess with magic, Mirca becomes mobile again. While they sneak through the nightly town, Mirca gets even with the man whose wrongful accusations sent her to death row by wrecking his warehouse with her rapidly growing breasts.
Part 2: Soiled Doves' Wings
"Wild like the wind
a gypsy with a grin
from an old far-away country ... "
― Cat Stevens,
Sweet Scarlet
This part's proofreading kindly supplied by Kanodin
Chapter 7: Asking For Old Favors And New Mishaps
The pale moon was just about to set. Morning approached.
"Where are we going? This is not the way to the gate!" complained the tall, hulking blonde as she trailed a light-footed shadow through the nightly town. Clutching her breasts to curb the unwonted and unwanted swaying and bobbing of the taut, almost solid orbs wrapped in a straining makeshift bustier, she stumbled after a figure in fluttering red and black rags.
"Yes, because the gate's guarded, and I'm sure they've already noticed the commotion at the castle. We're going to visit an old friend of mine. Over there."
The dark-skinned witch didn't turn her head as she replied. She kept her eyes firmly on the street ahead. No hint of light, not even a single candle shone from the windows of the houses they passed.
She stopped for a moment, pressed up against a wall, and peeked around a corner into a small square. Empty. She picked up her pace again and headed for the two-story building on the opposite side. The half-timbered house stood with its back to the little river running through the town, and all the other buildings seemed to try and keep their distance, as if they wanted nothing to do with it. It stood out in more than one regard. For one, it seemed rather new compared to its neighbors, and while the area hosted mainly stables and warehouses, the building they headed for was a residence. And it wasted precious ground inside the town's wall with a garden in its back and a high hedge around it.
Mirca turned the corner, recognized the place and gasped. Her footfall slowed down.
"
There?!
That's an unclean house! Do you know what
those
women do for a living? It's disgusting!" rang her voice across the square while she pointed accusingly at the building.
Yrba gnashed her teeth and pulled up her shoulders as the echoes of Mirca's outburst danced through the dark, empty streets.
"Be quiet and hurry!" she hissed. "I'm not asking you to
work
there." She quickly turned around, grabbed Mirca's wrist and pulled her along.
"Dammit, I'm coming! I'm coming! No need to knock down the door!" barked the disheveled redhead in the flimsy bodice with the low neckline while she put the candleholder on the shelf by the doorframe. She didn't reach for the handle to open the backdoor yet. Straightening herself instead, she fluffed her hair and dragged some of her mane to the front.
She mumbled a chain of strange words, took a deep breath and held it in. Her left hand cupped the soft volume of her left breast's ample balcony while the splayed fingers of her right hand slowly slid upwards over her midriff.
Prickling followed her finger's path and spread like goose bumps over her mammary. The flesh in her grip swelled up and spread her fingers apart. Her breast bloated and rose over the rim of her corset. Her knees grew weak from the onslaught of delight, and she stumbled against the wall. A lecherous groan dripped from her mouth, and finally she exhaled in a staccato of hisses.
Swapping hands and boobs, she panted fiercely and repeated the procedure. Again, her already impressive breast bubbled larger in her hand until it matched the heavy shape of its sister to the left. Now her garb's neckline fought a valiant battle with the swollen, melon-sized protrusions, and moist heat raged in her groin.
A quick two-handed grab and squeeze, another murmur, and the soft underside of her malleable boobs grew resilient and, together with the groaning cloth's constraint, propelled her breasts' mass up into a pair of pearly-white half-spheres. Framed by her fiery curls, they bulged from her corset in almost inhuman size.
She knew that this sight alone was enough to seal most of her deals with her clients. Never one to leave anything to chance, she also put on her most seductive smile ― all the easier now with her cleft violently demanding relief by meaty impaling ― and sucked in her slight belly. Lifting her right arm behind her head and tilting her hip, she leaned against the wall. A quick lick over the lips to add a little wet gloss, and then she finally deemed herself ready. The knocking on the door repeated, faster and more urgent.
Between her legs, the embers of her hearth now blazed so violently, she half expected to see the floor light up in red glow as she put her feet slightly apart.
"Oh boy," she muttered under her breath, narrowed her just a tad slanted eyelids and furrowed her slightly triangular brow that together with her pointy nose gave her the air of a vaguely exotic fox, "whoever you are, you better have the stamina in your pants to make all this effort worthwhile!"
Her hand pulled back the door's bolt, her features relaxed into a wide, friendly smile and she began her often-repeated greeting with the sultriest voice she could manage at four in the morning:
"Welcome to Madame Red's cozy house of bathing and ―
ack! Kkkk! Gwaa
―
!
"
She choked, gasped for air and started to cough, because right in front of her now watering eyes hung, no, floated a bosom with a deep cleavage that dwarfed her own. The brazen display of womanhood was barely tamed by a piece of cloth. The breasts' shapes of rounded, foot-long, protruding cones were crowned by hard nipples that strained against the colorful wrapper. Red's blinking eyes followed the mesmerizing motions of the erect boobs as they swayed resiliently under their owner's agitated breathing. The face of the girl ―
giantess
, she corrected herself ― was out of Red's view. The behemoth's broad shoulders, covered in long, almost white-golden hair that cascaded in waves over them, marked the upper edge of the low doorframe. "Oh my goodness," the bawd stuttered after catching her breath and wiping her eyes. Even with the girl still standing in front of the sill, those incredible mammaries already hung through the door frame into the house. Red raised a trembling hand to her lips and stammered, "We're not hiring these days, but I sure could make an exception for someone like y―"
"Don't bother, she's not one for hire. Hi, Red," replied a familiar voice from behind the wall of breasts, a voice the bawd had not heard in quite some time.
"
Yrba?!
