Yrbas Travels Pt 05

Yrba's Travels, Pt.5 — Gold And Blood

by

Paul Gerard

(a pen name)

~

Part 5 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

Li, Red's brothel's exotic eastern plaything, tries to teach Mirca the basics of fighting. However, their very own idea of 'way of the fist' ends up waking the metal goddess of the derelict temple they chose as their training ground. As the goddess' ephemeral gift for their 'sacrifice of virginity' fades (or rather, shrinks back), so does their memory of the weird afternoon... Back in the brothel, Sylvia and Charlene coax Mirca into a game of 'how much can you take?' that ends with a milk-swept stairway, a few bruises and scratches and Yrba and Mirca moving out into the forest to 'get a grip' on Mirca's unpredictable expansion bouts.

~

Part 5: Gold and Blood

"I'll take the shot, for you

I'll be the shield for you... "

—

The Rasmus,

Shot

Proof-reading kindly provided by splinter271 and kanodin

~

Chapter 22: Getting A Grip, On Boobs And Otherwise

~

"Uh, what now?" Mirca nervously gazed down on the forest floor around her and scratched her head. The six foot six blonde with the muscular physique had spent the better part of the morning together with her Darkskin witch friend and mentor Yrba, sweeping away pointy branches and uprooting the occasional thorn bush to clear an arena of several yards across that was free from any unpleasant surprise. Now she stood at the edge of the clearing, facing the empty space. A shiver ran across her naked skin and made her nipples stand up in the cool air. She knew what was about to happen as her ebony friend stepped up to her side, put her palm soothingly on her buttock and let the touch of her hand slide down to the onset of Mirca's leg. And yet... turning into a helpless appendage to a swelling, immobile, wobbling pair of straining spheres wasn't exactly her idea of a good time, and after the previous disasters, she dreaded a repetition. Well,

mostly

dreaded it.

Other

feelings welled in her at those times of stretching and growing, too,

strange

feelings that filled her with every extra inch.

Mirca anxiously turned her head and looked down on Yrba's curly, thick black mane. The southern islands witch's five-and-a-half foot stature, her dark, chocolate-colored complexion and her voluptuous, sturdy build made her an exotic, seductive, tall and strong woman — or a demon risen from the depths of the underworld, depending on the beholder — by the standards of the cold northland countries she traveled. Yet she was dwarfed by her cellmate-turned-tool-turned-friend-turned-lover Mirca who was a true giantess in a time where most people just barely scraped the five-feet mark. The young woman in her early twenties fidgeted, and her previous life as a serf showed in her voice's nervous meekness that was at odds with her imposing shape.

"Uh, couldn't we do that, maybe, in a smaller way, instead, someho—

hah!

"

She gasped and fell silent as her confidante's brown-black fingers slid up along the inside of her thighs, tracing the valleys and hills of her well-defined muscles.

"No, girl," cooed the curvaceous witch, placing her other hand on one of Mirca's protruding, round boobs to feel the pent-up pressure inside. The plump lips in her round face spread into a wide, friendly smile that accentuated her cheekbones and revealed more shiny white teeth in her mouth and fewer wrinkles around the eyes than a seasoned gypsy of thirty-five summers deserved. She moistened her lips and raised her eyebrows. "All the way again, lovely, the sooner the better. You'll first have get used to it, and

then

you'll learn how to handle it. For now, I just want you to focus on whatever you feel as it happens." Yrba narrowed her eyes, and her

other

vision took over. The air was now filled with tiny sparkles that levitated between the trees. "This place is brimming with magic, so it shouldn't take long for

something

to happen. Just fight it with all you've got, for as long as you can."

Her fingertips played with Mirca's golden-white pubic curls. Her long fingernails gently traced the delicate fold of skin where the blonde's thighs met her fleshy labia. Mirca gnawed on her lower lip, her eyes half-closed. She moaned faintly, and her hips began to roll in just the teeny tiniest of involuntary movements.

Something

stirred in her.

"Mirca, don't just stand there and pant.

Tell me

."

"It's—it's starting to itch now."

"Where?"

"Uh, b—below. Where your fingers are. And around the knob."

"Good. And now?"

Yrba's finger dove into the long cleft just deep enough to pick up some lubricating moisture before it circled the hood over Mirca's clit. The girl gasped, and the witch nodded and smiled.

"Oh yes, I know how good it feels, sweetie. All fine and dandy if you like it so much, dear, but

keep on talking. Tell me.

" Under her breath, the witch focused on the faint tugging of magic in her hand and breathed, "

Excitare.

"

A moan, louder. And then words, hastily stuttered.

"Itching — stronger now! Spreading!

Gods!

M—my belly, my chest—it's going everywhere!"

Mirca patted with splayed fingers over her hips, over her womb, over the onset of her ribs. Her eyes fluttered shut, her head fell in her neck and sent a wavefront through her golden-white mane that now hung down to her waist. Her fingers bent into hooks and her nails scratched red marks into her skin of copper and gold. The witch added another finger to her crotch-grip and placed them around Mirca's sensitive button in a V shape. She pressed stronger into the resilient tissue under the labia, pinching the hair trigger of Mirca's sex through the meaty wrapper of the giantess' folds and stroking the mass as it swelled in arousal. Mirca squirmed and writhed, her fingers wandered over her own neck, caressed her cheeks and dragged over her protruding lips, revealing her teeth and the pink inside of her lower lip. Saliva ran from the corner of her mouth as her long, thick tongue crawled out and circled the huge O shape of her lips, and her knees began to bend.

"

Mmm

ore! Heavens, give me

more!

" she begged, but Yrba suddenly held still. Mirca's copious lube crept over the witch's fingers and dripped from her knuckles.

"Only if you keep on talking to me, honey lips!"

"My legs! I feel — now — there's something warm creeping up

around my legs!

"

Yrba looked down and squinted. Her pupil was right. Swirling tendrils of white glow rose from the ground, whirled around her shins and vanished into her muscular thighs.

"Good girl! Here, have a treat." Yrba raised her thumb and placed it right into the wet hole. Mirca bent her knees to push more of it into herself, to bridge the height difference between her mentor and herself. As her thighs angled, her opening stretched. Mirca immediately felt the change. Something inside her

hungered

for something outside. Contractions crawled up along the tubular muscles that lined her love cave, and they sucked and swallowed and squeezed that

something

into her body.

"Warmth — coming into me — filling me — through there now!" she moaned.

The fog accelerated, streaming around Yrba's hand and getting sucked up into Mirca's widening gate. From deep inside Mirca's body, glow filtered faint and reddish through her skin. The blonde's breath quickened. What had started as deep breaths had turned into throaty moans, and now she panted fiercely, like a bitch on a wild chase. Her thighs trembled. The fiery light, visible only to the witch, slowly ate its way through Mirca's body and broke to the surface in a mesh of throbbing veins of white that crawled from her womb over her skin and up into her breasts. Mirca's hands and lower arms wrapped around her midriff and pressed into her stomach.

"Full — stretching me —

so full!

"

Yrba very slightly, very slowly leaned away. She didn't stop rubbing and kneading at Mirca's dripping folds, however.

"Hold it in, Mirca! Hold it! For as long as you can!"

"Warm! Hot! Taut!" gasped the trembling young woman, her nerves on fire, shivers racing over her skin. Her hands flew up and cupped her breasts. The mounds throbbed in her clutch, now they stretched, bulging out between her squeezing fingers, gaining momentum, each pulse bigger than the last. Her nipples pushed out of her grip. For a moment she held her breath; she just stood there, every muscle tensed up, every tendon struggling against the pressure inside her, then she groaned through clenched teeth.

"Can't — bursting — I can't — any longer — big one!"

Her jaw dropped, she inhaled with all of her chest and arched her body backwards.

"

Mmmmmwwwwoooaaaaaahhhhh—!

"

Rrrumble.

A noise like a pair of huge dough balls spilling on a table, a splashy, wet

Gloub

. Her breasts' skin bloated and stretched out into the clearing, easily encompassing all the burgeoning volume manifesting in her body.

After the crashing and rustling from a couple of felled trees subsided, only the sloshing sound of thick liquid in a huge, barn-sized bag, moving back and forth in long, slow waves, remained.

Yrba gulped and crawled back to her feet. Her body still rang from the sudden blow of a warm, soft-solid avalanche of

tit

that had effortlessly thrown her aside more than five yards.

"Wow," she muttered. Then she looked around, dumbfounded. "Next time, we

might

need a bigger clearing."

She raised her head, and after a while she raised it higher. Then she leant against the nearest tree and breathed deeply and slowly for a while, until her knees stopped shaking. A mere arm's length from her, the part of Mirca's breasts that filled her view was a straining, shiny white wall, bulging between the corralling tree trunks that creaked and groaned under the weight.

The healthy tan of the timid giantess' skin had been replaced by pearly white glow under the immense, magically augmented stretch of the faintly throbbing, taxed tissue. Trapped by the trees around the clearing that had been strong enough to shoulder the weight, the bloated boobs had taken the only other way out. Their high-rising ovoids formed two pale domes of more than ten yards in height. Yrba stared up at them, moving her jaw with no sound coming from her mouth as she gnawed on her knuckles.

Shit, I thought she'd not get

that

big again. The potion shouldn't last that long! By now, it shouldn't be strong enough for this any more! Not by far! It's all wrong!

"Uh —

uuuuooohhaaanng—ah! —

can you get me down again now?" came Mirca's voice, still dripping with arousal, from five yards up. Her feet dangled uselessly, and she held on to herself with her arms spread out and her fingers digging into her own breasts' warm, pliable skin. The big, hulking woman was a mere insect now against the backdrop of her breasts. She deliriously licked and gnawed on her own skin with her mouth half-open, her lips pouting forward and sticking to the smooth, shining surface. Her long tongue whipped saliva all over the crack of her cleavage into which she had buried her face.

Yrba shook out her arms, cracked her knuckles and sighed as she prepared herself for the discharge spell. The valley ahead harbored no settlements, so at least nobody would notice the sudden torrent of milk rushing down the slope...

~

A week passed.

~

The campfire cast flickering shadows. Every now and then, a log sagged down and spat out a cloud of sparks that rose up into the clear evening sky. Mirca sat at the entrance of the couple's tent and poked a branch into the embers at the edge of the fireplace.

"Why do you never let me try that thing with the catapulting tits again?" she complained. "I mean, all I need is to get really angry and then embarrassed, and

ka-pow!

No more sleeping in that stupid, damp, cold tent. I could blast a cave big enough for the two of us out of that rock face! And then we'd put straw and branches on the floor and hang a blanket over the entrance and we'd have a cozy home of our own."

Yrba sighed as she undressed. "Because maybe you'd get stuck halfway inside the stone and hurt yourself? Sweetie, magic strengthens your skin, but how far? What if it goes wrong? Flesh versus rock? No, it's too risky. And you shouldn't get used to being angry. You shouldn't think of them as a second pair of fists. No, promise me, don't use your breasts for weapons, ever." She leaned over and put her warm hand on one of them, kneading the resilient, melon-sized flesh orbs gently. "They are such wonderful, amazing things. Made for nurturing and for delight. Don't soil that by filling them with rage. You might not be able to get the anger back out of yourself if you allow that to happen. It's not just my potion that made them so powerful. No, I think you're one of maybe a handful of women with an amazing gift. Keep it safe. You've learned so much already. Almost no accidents now."

The witch turned around and bent over to wrap herself into a rugged, warm blanket for the night. Mirca smiled and watched the dark-skinned, naked woman. "You've got such a good way with words," she said, grabbed the witch around the waist and pulled her down into the valley of her cleavage. "I'm feeling all happy inside now."

"Good for you," groaned Yrba, fighting for breath in the hearty embrace. "Before you doze off, show me one more time."

The blonde drew a sulky pout. "But I'm tired."

"

Show

me. We can cuddle later." Yrba clambered around in the tent and sat down face-to-face with her trainee. Mirca looked at her, and her blue eyes suddenly filled with worry.

"Uh, do you

have

to sit down in

front

of me? I'm always queasy if you do that. I'm not so sure about — I don't want to hurt you if—"

"Good! That's why I'm doing it. Gives you a little more motivation. Come on, the sooner you get ready, the sooner you'll get some rest."

"But that one time, they blew up so hard, they threw you all the way across the cleari—"

"

Do

it!" A muscle twitched under the witch's eye.

It's—gonna—work—it's—gonna—work—it's—gonna—work—,

she told herself, over and over again. Granted, that wasn't exactly magic. But it went a long way to trick her into something not quite like confidence. Any which way, it would have to do.

Don't show your fear. She's got enough of her own.

Mirca sighed. She crossed her legs into a pose like she remembered Li doing, rested her lower arms on her knees, clenched her hands into fists and slowly relaxed her fingers again.

Warm. I eh—muh—gin... Ah—me—geen... No. Stupid long word. I

do-as-if

I hold them in my hands, and I can feel the warmth.

She looked down on her two well-rounded breasts.

I open my fingers, and then more warmth goes in there.

A shudder, a twitch, somewhere in those two protruding half-spheres. Her nipples contracted in anticipation.

Something

streamed into Mirca, rising up from the ground and

entering

her. The slight wrinkles around her areolae stretched, giving skin to make room. The weight caused her expanding chest to sag down heavily against her ribs. It was like the last times, warm and relaxing. If she just let go, it would stream into her forever with that caressing, gentle stroking and pulsing, piling delight upon delight.

I just need to let loose, and I can be as huge as — No! No! What am I thinking? I need to — hold — it!

Mirca jerked and tensed up. Her brow furrowed and her fingers bent into hooks.

Steady, steady! I don't want to bloat! I just want to keep going a little more. I can hold —

The two giant orbs throbbed faster now. Yrba kept her eyes fixed on the inflating nipples and the expanding areolae. Every instinct yelled at her to cast a constrainer around the bloating boobs

before it's too late! Stupid crone! This time she'll crush you under those boobs! Stop her! Now! Remember Red? In the barn? Remember?!

Yrba raised her trembling hands against the approaching white wall, her fingers splayed wide. Her breath raced. And then she closed her eyes and — waited.

No. I'm not a stupid rookie any more. I'm calm. I'm in control.

Warmth

was all over her palms now. Something huge, colossally huge and alive, slowed down and stopped, inches before it made contact. Yrba warily opened one eye, then the other. She exhaled.

Mirca's breasts sat heavy and sagging in the tall young woman's lap like two giant eggs in a cozy nest, their one-and-a-half yard diameter big enough to rub and stretch against the tent's cloth. The skin fluttered on a little longer as they rounded out some more, filling up with milk, until the mammoth mammaries came to a stable rest. Mirca's fingertips showed at the horizon of the two udder planets as she held and corralled them, clutching the semi-taut skin.