Yrbas Travels Pt 07

Pt.7 — Among Wolves

~

Part 7 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 curvy chocolate-skinned raven-haired traveling gypsy witch, and Mirca, the towering muscled flat-chested blond 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, foxy copper-haired 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 few days, they recover and 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:

While the witch and her companion camp out in the forest, Mirca slowly learns to control her explosive chest. Li continues to teach her how to fight, with varying success. Against Yrba's better judgment, Red coaxes her into doing a 'boob job' on Francine, a young woman from the town despairing over her lacking physique. Mirca manages to beat Li in combat for the first time, and they pick up Yrba and return to Red's brothel just before an early snowstorm rushes by. A few nights later, Mirca joins Berry in running contraband, they end up in an ambush, another storm brews, and then things go to hell, fast and really, really bad.

Part 6 — The Road:

After Berry's demise, Red, Yrba and the girls learn that the brawny woman took many secrets to her grave. Her final words lead them to a cave filled with gold, swords and shields. Red buys Yrba's confiscated witch cart back from the guards. Yrba and Mirca take to the road to consult Yrba's former mentor, a wizard. On their way, they discover enchanted chain mail, have a chance encounter with a gang of blackmailing thugs who bring disturbing news from Red's brothel and a hint at a deus ex machina who may be more machina than deus, only to have that knowledge wiped from their minds again.

~

Part 7: Among Wolves

This part has not been proofread beyond my own limited abilities. Sorry. — P.G.

~

"Look around

leaves are brown

and the sky

is a hazy shade of winter"

— Simon & Garfunkel,

Hazy Shade Of Winter

~

Chapter 32: The Accident

~

"Hey, sleepy witch! Come on, get up! Another great day! You said we'd reach another village this evening. Let's get going!"

"Mirca — no," groaned Yrba and drew her blanket back over the curly, tangled bird's nest of her jet black mane. Her chocolate-brown complexion made the Southern Islands witch an often-ogled oddity to the pale folks of the Northlands that she travelled. She licked her plump lips and smacked. "I've got no idea how you became so chipper, but I sure can't keep up." She rolled her shoulders and ran her fingernails down her curvy contours to scratch her round buttocks. Uttering another groan, she slumped back down in her berth. "Oh, just go ahead, you know the drill. Harness the horse, get the fire going, yadda yadda yadda."

"Feh! I hope I don't become that sleepy when

I

'm old," muttered Mirca as she turned around, stooping to not bump her head against the caravan's ceiling. The four-wheeler that Yrba travelled in never was meant to provide housing for a twenty-something lumberjack girl who could put barroom brawls to a sudden, awkward end just by standing up and flexing her arms.

"Thirty-six ain't

old

," grumbled her curvaceous mentor and squeezed her own buttocks, as if to reassure herself of her body's delectable firmness. Satisfied, she dug herself back into the pillows and turned from the beams of light that pierced into the wagon as her herculean travel companion opened the door and bowed through the low doorframe that barely was big enough for her six feet nine frame.

Mirca jumped from the cart, ignoring the three wooden planks of the tiny stepladder, and stretched her towering, naked shape against the warming rays of the barely risen morning sun, cracking her joints and tensing her firm muscles. Brushing back her long, blond hair, she gazed around. The lone clearing near the high point of the pass road offered a grand panorama over the low hills and the mist-veiled valleys between them.

~

The tall young woman knelt down by the fireplace, and soon the fire flared up from last night's embers again. Raising her head, her eyes caught sight of the spokes on the cart's wooden wheels.

"Yrba, one of the spokes is — uh, Yrba? You awake?"

A long snore was the answer. Mirca stood up, put her hands to her hips, took a deep breath, lowered her head and sighed.

"Great. Just

great

. Hum. Not going to sit around and wait until noon. I want to see a few new faces this evening."

She tapped on her pouted lips with her right hand's fingers. Suddenly she smiled, untied the spare wheel and crawled backwards on all fours under the cart. She squatted down, curved her back and pressed her shoulder blades into the cart's floor. Emerging muscles and tendons turned her legs' smooth skin into a landscape of hills and valleys.

Dammit, it's heavier than it looks.

Not too heavy, though. Hrrrrnnnn—!

She clenched her teeth and tensed up some more. The veins in her neck swelled. Wood groaned as the weight on the wheels disappeared. Moments later, they lost touch of the ground, and half of the cart balanced on the blonde's back. She grabbed the damaged wheel by her side and pulled and jolted on the obstinate item to wiggle it loose.

Come off, you stupid thing! Come off!

Finally, it slipped from the spindle. She dropped it and had to put her hand to the ground to balance the weight that threatened to overwhelm her. Her other hand fumbled for the spare wheel. She leant sideways, frantically grasping at it, but her fingertips barely touched the rim.

Riiiight, quick now — oh come here, you darn — shit! No! No no no!

The load on her back shifted as the cart began to tilt sideways. Still struggling, she heard the second wheel on her side drop from its axle with a thud. The other side of the cart still wobbled and creaked on the remaining two wheels, but on this side, all to rest the weight on now was her back. Mirca exhaled hard. Her muscles started to ache and tire, and the wooden beams of the cart's frame pressed painfully into her shoulder blades and spine. She bent deeper.

"Yrba!" she coughed. "Oh gods, help m—

eeuugh

... w—wake up, Yr—

rgh!

"

Her voice was barely more than a wheeze and the only reply from the cart was another snore. As the load slowly weighed her down, she struggled in vain for air that just wouldn't come to her lungs. Every breath in was a short gasp, every breath out a long-drawn hiss through gritted teeth, every time she bowed lower to the ground.

Need — something to rest it on —

She was down on both hands now, arms trembling, and her elbows began to bend. Heat flushed over her chest; a dull, throbbing heat in sync with her racing heartbeat. The edge of the cart slipped on and cut painfully into her neck, grating over her vertebrae.

Nnnngh — gaaah! It'll chop my head off! I've got to —

The first higher blades of grass, still covered in dew, ran over the skin of her dangling breasts and moistened her nipples. Stars dancing before her eyes, she tried to shift the weight any which way. A fierce, growing itch from deep within her chest replaced the tickle of the grass.

No — not now, no, please, oh please, don't—

Seconds stretched into an eternity of

expansion

. Her ballooning mammaries made contact with the ground with a short, hard thump. Her hands on the wet, slippery grass were quickly pushed aside by the swelling flesh, and the wagon's weight came down on her, on the yielding pillows that caught it with bouncing, swinging motions that made the mobile hut on her back creak and groan like a ship in heavy sea.

Mirca's face was covered with sweat, and now it was partially covered with her chest's burning skin, too. Her breasts, suddenly four times their original, already dominating size, were painfully flattened between the ground and her body. She felt the pulsing of the veins under the skin as the bags grew larger under her, fighting the threatening weight, the stretching skin moving down her midriff until it was stopped as it ran into her thighs. The whole rising mass started bulging forward now to the faint hissing of liquid volume building up inside.

The groans of the cart on her back grew louder as it rightened up bit by bit. Yet the swelling of Mirca's breasts went in all the wrong directions. The skin at the underside of her mammaries strained against the pull of the two orbs' urge to pop out ahead of her.

"Yrrrrb—

hhhhh.

" And still her voice was but a faint moan as she tried to yelp while inhaling. All the while she grappled with her two inflating pillows, trying to keep the burgeoning flesh under her.

~

Her nipples dug into the ground, anchoring her swelling breasts and stopping the slow slippage. The pressure grew. She no longer needed her legs or arms to hold up the mass of the wagon. Her bloating breasts held the cart's weight as their growing size made them bulge sideways, squeezing far beyond the sides of Mirca's chest. She was firmly fixed between the load on her back, her own flattened thrumming breasts and the ground.

With a crash and tinkling, something inside the cart fell over. Then came a heavy thud, and a muffled yowl of pain followed on its heels. Squeaking and groaning, the yard-huge pillows shouldered the cart's weight. Mirca slipped into her own ridiculously huge cleavage, with a moan of pain as her arms and shoulders were forced backwards. She could finally breathe in again. She could

scream

again. And she did, with all the strength she had left.

"Yrba! Are you all right?!"

Dead silence sent ice down Mirca's spine. Inside the cart, there were

heavy

things. Heavy things that might easily crush an arm, or a leg, or a — head.

Then, finally, the angry answer: "Dammit, yeah!

Hrrrnnngh!

I'm — I'm stuck! What the

fuck

are you doing out there?"

"I'm so sorry! I tried to fix the wheel, and then the other came off, too, and now I'm trapped here! I'm stuck under the cart! I've blown up again! Help me!"

"

Gaaaarrrgh

! No, can't get my leg out from under that barrel! And you? Can you hold on? Can you

breathe?

"

"Yes, yes. No —

nnngh!

— no problem now. The cart seems to get lighter by the minute. I just can't stop this! I really tried! Yrba! Please, do something!" She gesticulated helplessly with her hands that peeked out left and right while her arms were stuck between the cart and the stretching and ballooning skin of her breasts, each now flattened to more than one and a half yard in diameter and three feet high — and swelling.

The wood of the wagon's two wheels still on the ground creaked and groaned as more of the weight shifted from Mirca's back and shoulders towards the axles on the opposite side while she rose on top of the expanding pillows. The angle of the box on wheels neared its tipping point.

"Do something?" groaned the witch. "I was hoping

you'd

come and get me out of here! I don't like it how the kitchen knives dangle over me!"

Rrrrumble. Thock. Thock—thock—thock. Thock—thock.

"Yrba!" gasped the blonde.

"Okay, p—problem s—solved," stuttered the witch. "That was too fuckin' close!"

"Yrba, please! You've got to think of something! I keep bloating, I'll topple the cart!"

After a moment of silence, Yrba replied: "Then topple it!"

"What?!"

"I'm stuck in here! You're stuck out there! My leg's trapped under that damned barrel, and you've got a cart on your back! What

else

can we do? Grow on and topple it, and we'll both get out somehow."

~

Wood groaned, and then silence descended on the clearing. Distant bird twitters slowly returned.

"I'm — trying — I — really —

oh! What is tha — oooh! Oh m—maaah—mmmhhh—

"

Mirca's panting came faster and faster, until she suddenly held her breath. Her body trembled faintly as she stiffened.

"

Haaaahhh—"

The lecherous exhale went on an on. In the end, Mirca's wide-open eyes closed slowly, and she sagged down. Warmth spread under her breasts, washing away the cool sensations from the dew-soaked grass.

"Uh, I — I think something weird just happened," Mirca said after a while. "I'm — my boobs, it's like they just, I dunno, like they

came

, all on their own! I mean, it wasn't in my womb, it was in my — and I don't grow any more. And now — no, I think my boobs are ac—u—tally shrinking now!"

"

Actually

. Girl, you make 'em grow again this very instant!"

"I'm too big already! All I know is how to get to the sagging-to-my-ankles size! They did all this round balloon thing by themselves! How—?"

"I don't know! But tell me, can you hold up the cart without your boobs?"

"No! I'm too worn out! It's too heavy! I can't get out! It'll lop my head off and squash me!"

"Then you better learn soon!"

"I'm scared! They're — they're letting down! They're shrinking really fast now! The milk's washing out like from a spout!"

Yrba's thoughts raced.

Make her grow. Quickly. Embarrass her? No, too risky. Better distract her. Get her horny. Dripping horny. How?!

"Mirca, I want you to let go. Let it all out. Or in."

"Uh, let out in

what

? Huh?"

"The first few times you blew up big in the forest? Remember that?"

Mirca's eyes swiveled frantically while she tried to conjure up that memory.

"Yes, yes, but — but that didn't work any more after a few weeks. And you said that was a good sign!"

"Too bad. We need something like that now. Well, not

exactly

, slower would be nice ... so, sugarplum, tell me what you liked best about the last nights."

Mirca blushed. "Uh—

now

? I'm kinda, I —"

"Come on, girl. I've had my face between your legs. You can tell me anything."

"Uh, I—I liked how you did that thing with your fingers and —"

"Imagine it. Again. And tell me."

~

Yrba's plump lips wrapped gently around the nervous clit. As her mouth opened, her tongue crept out, played over Mirca's labia and finally split them all the way. Her dark hands wandered over the blonde's bright skin, and her fingernails scratched tenderly over the heavy, rising mounds on Mirca's chest. Yrba pouted her lips and sucked on the pink knob before she let it slip from her mouth.

"Come on now. Make 'em grow for me," she whispered before she devoured the wet strawberry again.

"No," giggled Mirca, slowly gyrating her hip. "Not unless you do the —

mmmmh!

Or that! That's nice, too." Warmth spread over the tall blonde's groin. Yrba's cheeks bulged and shrunk with her rhythmic sucking. Mirca moaned blissfully. Slowly, her whole body caught fire and twitched and twisted on the big cow pelt under her. The rough bristles tickled her back.

Yrba ran her hand down over Mirca's belly with her fingers splayed and bent into claws. Her fingernails scratched over the well-defined mounds of muscles on the blonde's abs.

You're wet like a swamp, girl,

she wanted to say. But it came out as "

Oomm—glomph

," and the humming sent twitches and tickles all through Mirca's guts.

Yrba's night snack's hips bucked against her face. Mirca was quite ripe for the plucking. With her lips focusing on the juicy knob, the witch dug her fingers, then her whole hand between the sopping labia under it. Mirca's giant body welcomed her intruding arm with rippling, twitching muscles and claimed it easily beyond the wrist.

~

"

Mmmmh

. And then I felt so

full!

Oh, this was so

good!"

moaned the blonde. "And I wanted to suck you in, all the way! And

grow

for you!"

The cart groaned again. Mirca didn't listen to the sound of the present while her thoughts whirled around in the past. Her eyes were closed, her mouth was half open, and she licked her lips and half her face with her giant tongue. She relived those precious moments, running them through her mind again and again. This time, the heat of longing built deep in her womb.

"Oh Yrba — so full — push it in all the way—!" she gasped, oblivious to the world around her.

Thin filaments of viscid goo dripped from her crotch, and suddenly she understood how to

let it all out.

She didn't need the gestures of her hands. She didn't need to focus. The answer popped up in her brain, right out of nowhere, and the knowledge sent shivers of arousal down her spine.

She took a deep breath.

And then she kept on inhaling. Like hot oil, the burning, the

swelling

spread on over her breasts, and they grew heavier with every frantic beat of her heart. Her skin groaned like mistreated leather. She wrapped her arms and legs around the orbs, felt the throbbing skin as it stretched out of her grip and gained the unearthly resilience it so badly needed to not burst apart, flattened under the weight of the cart that tilted faster now.