Yrbas Travels Pt 04

Pt.4 — Altars And Virgins

by

Paul Gerard

(a pen name)

--

Part 4 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 — Under Soiled Doves' Wings:

The witch and her new companion can't make it out of town. Lucky for them, Red, an old friend of the witch, runs the town's brothel, and they manage to hide there from the guards searching the houses. An unexpected growth spurt in the confined hideaway ends with Mirca getting stuck and Yrba out cold. Over the course of the next days, they recover, get acquainted with the girls, Mirca gets into a quarrel with Berry, Red's mistrusting bouncer, and becomes the focus of eastern beauty Li's fantasies. A dinner and a surprise confession lead to another eruption of Mirca's unstable body.

Part 3 — Tubs, Sponges and Soaking:

It's an all-girl event as Red's women climb over each other while they polish and shine Mirca's body in the brothel's huge bathtub, sudden milk burst included. The night brings a solemn peek into Mirca's troubled past, and the next day sees Yrba and Red desperately trying to salvage the last few drops of growth portion left in the witch's womb. Mirca embarks on a journey of discovery across Yrba's body, only to wear her mistress out to the brink of collapse. Yrba lets her curiosity get the better of her, prepares herself to repeat the experience, and in the process we found that her body has quite a few quirks of its own.

--

Part 4: Altars and Virgins

--

"And the devil in a black dress watches over

My guardian angels walks away

Life is short and love is always over in the morning"

— Sisters of Mercy,

Temple of Love (Extended)

--

This part has not been proof-read. Sorry.

--

Chapter 17: Early Mo(a/r)ning Ride

--

The diminutive, barely four-and-a-half feet woman with the boyish figure and decidedly eastern features beamed up to the towering, bulky, six-feet-six giantess in front of her. There was not a single wrinkle in her face's ivory skin to give away that she was the tall blonde's elder by more than a decade. And her giddy cheerfulness made the shy, twentysomething hulk seem the somber one instead.

She raised a folded piece of cloth up to the amazon who actually was the very opposite of

a

-mazon,

no

-breast. The tightly-wrapped, makeshift toga strained and showed the swaying motions of very respectable amounts of mammary mass underneath as the girl picked up the package and started to unfold her present. The dwarfish woman in the colorful kimono bounced impatiently in place, like she wished her giantess' chest would.

"Go, try on! Mirca try on new dress! Is from gift of Lady Mayor! I sew nights and nights to make fit. Want see now!"

"Uh, Li, should I, like, right now?" Mirca frowned. The dark green silk flowed over her hands. She held it up with two fingers and turned the long, sleek dress left and right. "It's

so

beautiful, but it looks so, so flimsy — I don't know, I don't want to tear it."

Li put her arms akimbo and leaned forward. An angry frown wrinkled the smooth skin of her forehead.

"You say I not good sewing?! I not measure right?! Li work long hours for you! Li put in

extra strong

seams! You wear

now

!"

Mirca lowered her eyes and stared to her feet as the dwarfish bundle of energy with the bun of black hair glared up at her. She mumbled, "Okay, okay. I just —"

"Not yet wearing my present?!" Li twittered angrily, prodded Mirca in the yielding chest with her forefinger, leaned backwards and crossed her arms over her flat chest.

With a sigh, the tall blonde began to unwrap the assortment of veils around her body.

Li's face brightened into an obsessed grin as the veils dropped down and revealed inch by inch the bulging muscles and the enormous, flawless breasts on the golden-haired giantess, and the eastern woman exhaled in a raunchy sigh.

You are incredible, Mirca. My goddess of female strength. Not even the best of jade sculptors of my homeland could create a body like yours. I praise whoever brought you here. You are all I'll never be.

Of course she knew who had brought her favorite embodiment of her brawny-and-busty fetish to the brothel: Yrba, the bawd's old-time girlfriend. The voluptuous southern islands refugee with the chocolate-colored skin was a witch to the bone — a flirty, hot-momma kind of witch with her thirty-five years. The unexpected stowaway had shaken up the routine at "Madame Red's cozy house of bathing" ever since she showed up in the dark of night after her escape from the castle's death row. In her tow she brought Mirca, the bulky-yet-timid serf freshly filled with a year's undiluted harvest of Yrba's "

Tincture for the Mesdames

" originally meant for more than a hundred clients — with the inevitable result of a capricious, hard-to-control boob line capable of bust–ing stone and metal.

Lucky for all of the girls at Red's house, the ethereal magic needed to fuel Mirca's erratic transformations wasn't unlimited, and after her last mishap, the depleted resources would need weeks to grow back.

--

Li's thoughts returned to the here and now. The new one-part dress dropped down over Mirca's huge breasts. Long folds formed, starting around the shortened and reinforced neckline and running down the deep cleavage. Only over the two round mountains of jiggly flesh did the cloth smooth out. Picking up the pattern of folds again beneath the protruding nipples, the silk cascaded down the front. The long sleeves ended in wide flaps and fluttered about as Mirca's hands flurried to tie the girdle around her tapering waist. Smooth and following the contour of her wide hip, the cloth hinted at the bulges of muscles along Mirca's chiseled thighs. The hemline played around her narrow ankles.

"Oh Li, you're amazing!" beamed the grinning giantess. She giggled and ran her fingers over the silken, dark green cloth with the golden needlework before she grabbed her breasts through the smooth textile. "This feels so great! It's so smooth and slinky! It's flowing like water! Here, you try it!" She grabbed Li's hands and pushed them on her huge breasts, slowly rubbing them over the hardening nipples.

Li exhaled as a sudden shudder of arousal raced through her body.

"Mirca l—looking good. Li m—make winter cloth from thick wool, too. But later. You now go Jean, ask for disguising. Afternoon, we go forest. Must trick guards by gate. Tell her we make you disguising as monk! She know!"

--

The door squeaked ever so slightly.

"Jean...?" whispered the huge blonde and leaned into the room. Apart from Li, who seemed to run on a wholly different kind of schedule, the rest of the billable women in Red's brothel weren't exactly the kind of females to rise with the chickens.

"

Mmmmmnnnnggghhh—?

" The moan might've been a question, or maybe it simply ended on an elevated note because Jean just happened to spread her moist sex with one hand while the index finger of the other rubbed frantically up and down over the exposed pink flesh in her grip.

Mirca gasped, jerked back and covered her eyes as she turned away.

"Uh, sorry, should I — come back when you're, y'know, uh..."

Jean's laughter was a bright, friendly ringing of bells. There was no hint that only moments before the slender brunette had twisted and turned on her sheets, with her hip bucking frantically, her massive breasts flailing about and three fingers buried deep in her itching twat. She beckoned Mirca to enter while she caught her breath and blew an unruly strand out of her flushed face.

"Oh no, darling! Come on in, it's okay! I was just doing my morning warm-up! Come here, sit down on the bed. What's the matter? Oh my,

that's

a nice dress! So Li finally got your present done, eh? How do you like it, sweetheart?"

The naked brunette licked off the sticky moisture from her fingers and wiped them on her skin before she let them wander over the smooth cloth. Mica shuddered ever so slightly as Jean's fingers traced the curves of the blonde's massive, slightly sagging cones.

"It really hugs your figure, dear. Oh my, you're giving me all kinds of nasty thoughts now, you know?" Jean winked. "You maybe got a little warm breakfast in that wrapper for me?"

Jean squeezed the domed areola gently. The rough nipple poked into the palm of her hand, but that was about all she got out of the heavy mammary.

"Breakf—?" Mirca frowned at her, and suddenly her face lit up with understanding. "

Oh.

Ah! Uh, no." She shrugged. "No, I can't feel any milk now. Sorry. Are you very disappointed? If I try, maybe I can squeeze a bit —" She raised her hands and started kneading the resilient domes. "Uh, there's maybe a little in there — but I'm

much

better with this in the afternoon —"

"No, don't bother, dear," smiled Jean and put her hand soothingly on top of Mirca's groping fingers. "I was just wondering."

Mirca blinked, and then she beamed, "But I could offer you a ride instead!"

"A ... ride?" frowned the naked woman, reclining on the bed and stretching her arms. "Now? Where to? On what?" She laughed. "Your shoulders? You sure are big enough to—"

"Filly, om fiff!" the blonde mumbled while her tongue lolled out. The tip of the pink tentacle whipped around and scratched the underside of the chin. "Yffa likef it fery muff, anf feh offer fgirl af feh pallaf waf fotally fmad abouf if. Fwamma giww if a fry?" A drop of saliva descended from the wiggling tip, dragging along a filament right down into the abyss of Mirca's cleavage.

Jean suddenly sat bolt upright again and gulped, with her hand on her chin and her fingers on her trembling lower lip. "Holy—b—

buh

. Is that

real?

How

long

is it?"

Shluuuurp.

The two finger's length of tongue tentacle was gone again, and Mirca wiped her moist chin. "Long? Uh, I dunno, as long as you just saw it? Yrba said it's a tongue like a cow, but in a good way, and that I should be proud of it. And that I can do amazing things with it. You want me to do things with it?"

"I—I'm not sure, I—," Jean stuttered as she inched slowly away from the huge woman with the good-natured smile on her face.

"Oh, that's okay!" giggled Mirca. "I've already had breakfast, you won't spoil my appetite!"

She threw herself around. The bed groaned under her weight. Jean tried to struggle away as the mountain of muscles came down on her legs, but the broad shoulders and the heavy, soft breasts of the giantess pinned her knees to the mattress. She tensed up in nervous anticipation the moment the tip of Mirca's tongue brushed over her labia. And then Jean's body went limp as the first lick, both into the depths of her vagina and against the hood of her already fired-up lust button at the same time, sucked her into the vortex of a delirious ecstasy. Mirca's huge mouth covered Jean's crotch along the whole length of the brunette's labia and soaked her folds with hot drool.

"Mirca — Mirca — oh heavens, Mirca — careful —," stammered the brunette, then she mutely gasped for air as the giantess sucked on her pubic mound and the labia plumped into the vacuum of the mouth's steaming cave. Her inner flaps slipped out, stretching around the thick root of Mirca's invading tongue. The giantess' teeth gently nibbled the tapering wrapper.

"Oh gods! Oh heavens! You're the snake of the abyss!

Mmmm

ircaaa—!

Ungh—

!"

The brunette's trembling fingers crawled and combed through Mirca's white-golden hair. Jean threw her upper body around on the sheets. Her own sizable breasts swung left and right. Every now and then, her hands grabbed and squeezed the ample mountains on her chest. The room spun around her head, no, make that around her

crotch —

"Deep — so deep! You're in — deep! — I'm —

gaaaaawds! —

impaled! To! The! Bone! Licking — my marrow out — you — yo

oooOOOuuuuUUUUU!

"

Jean howled in delight. The slippery tentacle wormed its way through her cervix. The tip crawled over the insides of her womb. She was trapped in delirious desire, unable to open her eyes. All she saw were images dancing through her feverish imagination, of being a tiny, stretched and bloated bladder over this humongous tongue that filled her belly more and more and turned it into a round bulge while she pulled up her thighs and slipped deeper and deeper into the round gate of juicy lips, all her innards being sucked out like the meat from a ripe fruit.

"

More!

Rougher! Crush me! Almost — there! Keep — up! Grab me! Devour me! You beast! Squash me!"

Mirca obediently reached out. Her strong paws each cupped all the sensitive volume of one of Jean's milk orbs with ease and squeezed hard. Jean's whole body arched upwards. Juices burst out of her, and the greedy tentacle deep in her womb stirred the oozing secretions into white-hot foam which Mirca slurped in long gulps. Slowly, jerking and trembling, Jean sagged down on the wrinkled, sweat-drenched sheets.

Mirca wiped her lips and watched, uncertainty in her nervous gaze, as she sat back up and straightened her green dress.

"Uh, was that okay for you? I mean, instead of milk? I wouldn't want to, y'know, disappoint you. You've been so nice to me in the bath and before."

Jean smiled, and as she answered, her voice flipped into a hysterical giggle every now and then.

"O—okay? You —

heh! —

aski —

hii —

ing if't was o—okay?"

Mirca scratched her head and smiled shyly at the disheveled brunette who still fought hard to regain her composure and her sense of balance. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged, and suddenly Jean couldn't help to see her as anything but a forlorn, fidgeting servant begging for an answer, and not the towering, muscle-bound woman that she really was.

"Eh, yes?" stammered Mirca, nervously wringing her hands. "Because you didn't seem too happy b—because, I don't know, you suddenly let go, and, and Yrba did the same, and Suzy, too — Suzy was my f—former master at the castle, y'know — they all just start to pant and yell and then they get so quiet and stare into the ceiling or in the pillows and then they stutter how they like it, but really, I think, maybe, they all just say that because they don't want to make me sad, and I wasn't sure if maybe you got bored because, you, you're doing all this sex thing for w—work, so you surely know much more about it, and really, it's not that much I can do with my tongue except that in and out and around the inside and —"

Jean grinned and gently patted Mirca's cheek. All her insides still twitched with waning arousal. She shook her head in disbelief as she looked into Mirca's blue eyes. The giantess really

was

a forlorn serf in a new world. Jean desperately wanted to wrap her arms around Mirca and cuddle her to her chest, only her body was still too limp and exhausted. She took a deep breath instead and croaked, "

Hiii

—bored? If I got

bored?

Just a little longer, and I would've gone

mad

—"

A late shudder ran over her whole body, and she rolled her shoulders in delight.

"

Mmmh

, mad, in a very good way." She sighed happily. "Really, darling. I'm not lying to you. It was very,

very

okay." She cupped her head with both hands and combed back her hair with her fingers. "Very. We gotta do that again, soon — no,

no

, not

that

soon, Mirca! Heavens, snakey-girl, let me get my senses back together. So what brought you here in the first place, sweetie?"

"Uh, Li said something about, eh, 'this guy singers monk' or something."

"This guy — oh, you mean

disguising as monk?

" The brunette smiled and nodded. "Oh yes. Yes, that sounds

very

much like something Li would come up with. Okay, let's see what we can turn you into!" She clapped her hands. "Just let me get dressed, 'kay? You want to help me with that? Damn, my hands are still shaking."

--

Jean handed Mirca a brown, rough piece of clothing from the depth of her wardrobe. "I knew I had it somewhere in there! Here, put on that cowl. It'll hide your face."

The tall blonde held it undecidedly with two fingers, frowning as she sniffed in its general direction. Her nose wrinkled. "Ew! Smells like something died in that. Where did you get it?"

"Guess," replied the slender brunette as she shrugged and sent her own massively augmented breasts, courtesy of Yrba's tricks and herbs, swinging. As Mirca's face fell apart in horror, she added hastily, "Oh gods, no!

No!

" She held her hand over mouth and giggled. "I was just

kidding!

Oh heavens, girl, calm down. I just haven't washed it for quite some time. There was one of our clients who got off on pretending to be a monk. He was all," she lowered her voice to sound more like a man, "'

Oi've novor hod sox on moy loife, ond now Oi'll pomp yo so full yo'll borst

.'" They both laughed now.

After they slowly stopped, Mirca pondered for a few moments and then she asked, "Uh, but he didn't, right? Men can't do that — or can they?"

"Huh? Oh come on!" Jean playfully jabbed her arm. "Of course not.

Mirca!

We were just playing along for him, y'know? We moaned and yelled

'oh stop it, I'm about to explode, oh noes, you're filling me up good'

and stuff." She licked her lips, and her eyes suddenly glazed over with a dreamy expression. "What a pity that he hitched up with Hannah. Last I heard they've started a butcher shop. He always had a mighty juicy

sausage

, I've got to give him that."

"Ah. Uh?

Oh.

You — you mean his dangly breeding thing?"

Mirca blushed, and Jean involuntarily cast a quick, nervous glance at the blonde's rack, suddenly and fearfully remembering the last misfire of the explosive chest. No weird throbbing visible anywhere. She exhaled. The giantess had just given her the tongue ride of a lifetime, but she

blushed

at the mere mentioning of sex. And Red and Yrba wanted to turn her from cowering serf to free woman in just a few weeks, to teach her all about the world? Gods, where to

start?!

"Relax, girl. The men and us, we're just fooling around, really. And the thing won't

dangle

if we do it right."