Yrba's Travels

Part 10 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 our planet's 12th century.

~

Proof-reading: Sorta-Kinda all by myself, well, if you still read this, you know I'm about to trot out the old "

non-native Englishman

" whine that I've been giving you for the last few parts, too...

~

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 learn 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:

In her inimitable style, Mirca almost beheads herself, almost spikes her witch girlfriend with assorted sharp tools, wrecks their cart, grows another six inches during the winter, and has — under Yrba's guidance — her first time with Alric, a bard whom the amazon has dragged in from the frozen forests.

Part 8 — The Living Cauldron

It's springtime! Yrba makes good on her promise of "an extra inch or two for your services" to Alric. After the two women bid farewell to the bard, Yrba sets out to brew a fresh batch of her special potion. Once again Mirca's strength and size come in handy as the witch goes to great lengths (or rather... girth) to make sure that she'll have enough of her best-selling tincture to last for the rest of the year...

Part 9 — The Tower:

After Mirca giving out a little free sex ed on the side to a misguided farm boy, Yrba and her giantess finally arrive at Ramec the wizard's tower. A rainy week takes its toll on the witch and sends her into a bizarre nightmare. Come next morning, the weary witch finally gets some answers from her malevolent mentor, but at what painful price? Yrba soon finds herself strapped to a laboratory table and Mirca ends up a brainless slave until her penchant for creating havoc accidentally saves the day, for once, but not for everyone.

~

Part 10: Accidental Ascension

~

"You stretched for the stars

And you know how it feels

To reach too high

Too far

Too soon"

— The Waterboys,

The Whole Of The Moon

~

Prelude: On The Road Again

~

Picture a country road, little more than two lines of dirt, cutting across a lush, almost endless pasture and leading to the foot of a low mountain range in the vague mists of the horizon. Late summer clouds of white are scattered over a deep blue sky. A caravan, pulled by a single huge shire horse and trailing wisps of dust, travels along slowly while the warm afternoon air is abuzz with bees and the chirping of grasshoppers. Up ahead, the road gradually descends into a narrow valley full of trees.

Sitting on the coach box of the gently rocking vehicle are two very unlike figures.

The one holding the reins has "gypsy" written all over her. To the pale folks of the northern contries that she's traveling, she is a "Darkskin", a native of Altaerna's southern islands, and she's certainly a long way from her place of birth now. Her brown, chocolate-like complexion befits her exotic look that is underscored by her round face, stubby nose, big lips and slightly raised cheekbones. The few wrinkles around her dark brown eyes seem to not indicate her age but rather her penchant for a good laugh. Yet the almost invisible ones around her full lips tell of a life of seeing things that no man or woman should be forced to see. All in all, her appearance places her somewhere in the mid-thirties.

Her hair is a thick bush of curls, and jet black with an oily sheen like raven's wings. It is tied back and barely tamed by a red bandana, hemmed with dozens of dangling, jingling, most-certainly-not-really-golden coins. Peeking out of the black wool are earrings made of braided, tainted silver, so huge that wearing them might be construed as smuggling chain mail. Her blouse is made of patches and stripes of black and dark red cloth. Her waist, tapering and curvy but not too narrow, is accentuated by a black corset held close by little silver hooks and rings. It struggles to hold up her ample bosom, and the upper parts of her impressive brown globes shake and quiver in the wagon's uneven rocking. Her flared bright red skirt over her wide hips bulges in the wind, as does the black shawl hemmed with tiny pompoms, resting around her shoulders. At five feet five, the voluptuous, sultry traveler is an impressive example of a woman in her prime. And yet she's dwarfed by the figure at her side.

The face of the witch's companion is hidden in the shadows of a large cowl, and her brown cloak hides her body. She has her arms crossed before her chest and her hands pouched into the wide sleeves, but two clearly visible protuberances tell of her female physique. She seems to be tall and sturdy, towering above her friend and teacher even as she sits on the box, but her slightly stooped posture still radiates meekness in a way that tends to make people forget about her seven feet frame.

A year ago, Yrba the witch and Mirca the lumberjack serf girl met under less than fortunate circumstances, on the night before their scheduled encounter with the gallows. The next morning saw both a cell block and a storehouse utterly destroyed by mysterious forces. So far, they've run into an angry lord, a brothel of golden-hearted whores, a bored ancient forest goddess, a couple of mercenaries, an ill-tempered wizard and altogether too much trouble for their tastes ...

~

Chapter 49: Not Quite There Yet

~

Sunset drew near when the wagon, following the winding road, circled one of the many house-sized boulders at the mouth of the valley. The overgrown side road met a much larger, well-maintained one. The cart rattled around a small patch of trees, and suddenly the town they were heading for was in plain view. Miles ahead, the main road led up to a drawbridge spanning a small river that had engraved itself deeply into the bedrock.

The distant buildings clung like tiny white cubes to the side of the big hill's steep slope. Near the ridge, a huge castle glowed pink in the sunset's reddish light. The hill was just the last, lowest part of a mountain range rising and fading into the distance along the coastline.

The tall woman brushed back her cowl to reveal long, golden-white hair tied back into a ponytail. Her tanned face with bright blue eyes, curvy lips and statue-like features, almost unearthly in their evenness, showed an amused grin. She pointed at the distant building and giggled.

"Whoa, Yrba, look at

that

! Those two huge domes on top of that palace! What's that, the town and castle of

Titsburg

?"

"

Mirca

! If you've got to mock them, at least do it quietly!" Yrba cast an angry glance at the blonde. "You never know who's around and listening!"

She steered the gypsy wagon over to the side of the road and onto a grassy spot.

"We'll rest here for the night and head on to the town first thing in the morning. They'll close the gates before we can get there anyway. Take care of the horse while I light a fire."

~

"Mmmmh. Come here. Let me kiss the strain of the day away," cooed Mirca as she knelt behind Yrba's stooped figure and kneaded her mentor's tense shoulders with her strong, warm hands.

The witch sighed and smiled. She felt wetness growing between her legs. Just the

thought

of that offer was more than enough to arouse her, but it had been a long day, for both of them.

"Are you not tired after all that swordplay and kicking and punching?" she asked, peeking from under frowning eyebrows over her shoulder to her towering companion who had spent the better part of the evening shadowboxing with everything in range, from trees to rocks. And some of the trees now were piled up in neat chunks to keep the fire going through the night.

"Not tired enough for a little help between friends. You'll sleep like a baby once I'm through with you," Mirca laughed and stroked Yrba's cheek with the back of her hand. "And do I have quite the dessert ready for you," she added as her other hand burrowed through the folds of her clothes and kneaded her huge, milk-swollen breasts. Her nipples grew hard and stood to attention.

Yrba sighed, shook her head and raised a finger.

"No, girl. Don't you try to distract me. You'll not skip your

other

exercises again tonight. Come on, there's a nice clearing right over there. If you're still frisky enough to go down on me, you're also frisky enough to show me a little breastplay first, too. Besides, if you feed me like yesterday, then I'll get all boob-bloated again and we'll

again

need half the morning to squeeze my puppies down to size and into my dress."

"You're no fun," the blonde pouted.

~

"Bigger, bigger, bigger, firmer — aaaaand

stop

!"

The two now man-sized orbs came to a sloshing halt, right on cue.

"See? Hands-free! I've got a rock-solid grip on them," the blonde replied smugly and rested her hands on her hips, cocking her head and smiling broadly.

Yrba puckered her lips.

"Yes, well done," she grudingly conceded. Her voice became soft as she continued, "All right then. I think you earned this." Yrba's fingertips ran down over the firm buttocks of her pupil. The blonde shivered in anticipation as the gypsy's middle finger danced over her clenched anus and moved on to her plump labia, playing with the golden curls of pubic hair.

Then the witch grabbed them and pulled down hard, ripping out a few strands.

"

Eeeaargh

!" Mirca yelled in pain. "What the —!"

The rumbling sound of several trees crashing down drowned out her voice. When Mirca's whine became audible again after a few seconds, it was much less confident and came from a dozen feet up in the air.

"

Ow

! That was

so

mean! I can't do it right if you distract me like that! Let me down! I'm getting dizzy!"

Yrba looked around. The little clearing was

cleared

now, and not so little any more. Mirca hung helplessly at the side of her pair of barn-sized breasts that had flattened the area and still sloshed gently back and forth, making her bob and swing about wildly. Her fingers grabbed at the wall of her own white, soft skin in front of her. The witch shook her head.

"You've got to have a grip on your gift

at any time

, Mirca. Look at you! These are heavy and

dangerous

, you know."

"You said they'll go away some day!"

"Yes,

some day

! I don't know when. You've swallowed so much potion, it's impossible to say how long it'll last. We can only keep on training. Oh, come on, don't start to cry!"

She made a conjuring gesture. The milk ducts in the mammoth nipples opened wide. Inch by inch, while the bountiful load rushed out into the forest, Mirca was lowered down to the ground. She fell to her knees while her breasts slowly crept back into the three-empty-sacks size. Hiding her face in her hands, she stooped and sobbed. The witch knelt down beside her and gently put her arms around the trembling shoulders.

"There, there, sweetie. Come on, rein them in. That part you've got down perfectly."

Mirca sniffled, but obediently pouted her lips and sucked at the air. Her breasts grew smaller and tauter until they once again became the flawless, firm, oblong half-pumpkins proudly rising from her chest, crowned with palm-size areolae and coin-sized nipples.

"Good! Good! See what you've already learned?"

The blonde beamed with joy and wiped her tears away.

"So I'm not an oaf?"

Yrba cupped Mirca's cheeks and rubbed a few stray tears off with her thumbs.

"Darling, I never called you that, and I never will. You've learned a lot, but only practice makes perfect. Oh, what now? Does your downy mound still hurt? Here, let Yrba kiss it better."

Mirca let herself fall back onto the grass and opened her thighs. She lost sight of her crotch as the black, curly mane of her friend dragged down over her chest, and as the full, soft lips of her dark-skinned mentor left Mirca's aroused nipples, wandered over her toned midriff and nuzzled into her dripping folds, she also lost track of time.

~

Chapter 50: Blonde At The Gates

~

The light of the next morning saw a few other wagons and carts heading for the town, along with Yrba's caravan. The only road into and out of the settlement led over a tall drawbridge and through a gate. As luck would have it, the cart before them was the last one allowed to cross. The queue came to a halt, and the drawbridge went up. Yrba curled her lips and pushed the herb stalk she was chewing on to the other corner of her mouth.

"Great! What the —"

"Oooh! Yrba! Look! A ship! Do you think the coast is near?" Mirca pointed at the barque that was pulled up the river by a pair of oxen. The waters flowed far below the road, forming a canyon near the bridge that left only the top of the rigging visible as the ship slowly passed beneath.

"The coast?" Yrba nodded towards the next hill. "Right across the town and that ridge. The old deserted town of Ebron lies on the other side of that mountain. Was once a costal town, a harbor outpost of the Old Empire. Nothing much left of it but the ruins of an amphitheater, cut into the black volcanic stone."

"My, you're

sooo

smart! You know so many things! Can we go and look at the ruins?

Pleeease

?"

Yrba sighed. Mirca was a seven foot bombshell nearing mid-twenty, had been trained in the far-eastern arts of fighting, could choke wolves single-handedly, kick like a mule and hit like a hammer (not to mention her

other

explosive gift), but somewhere inside that curvy Amazonian body there was still a ditz ready to cuddle anything fluffy and rely on puppy eyes to get what she wanted. The witch raised her eyebrows and surrendered to Mirca's pleading blue eyes.

"Oh, we might as well take a look to see if the stories are true. I've not seen the ruins either, just heard the tales."

She spat the chewed-up stalk out and glanced around her wagon's corner. The queue of carts grew longer behind them. Waiting for the ship to pass so they could lower the big drawbridge again, the guards kept themselves busy walking up and down the row of vehicles and collecting the bridge toll.

At least

that

wouldn't be a problem. The last summer had been lucrative. The pouch on Yrba's belt was taut and a heavy bag of gold was well hidden in the wagon, filled with the profit of a whole chest full of tiny vials of a certain enhancement potion

pour les Mesdames

.

Yrba nudged Mirca so the blonde would keep her mouth shut. One of the guards walked right past them until he was almost at the horse's head. Still looking ahead, he lifted his hand to his face. Sunlight reflected off of a polished surface. But there was another sparkle to the small, irregularly shaped object. Magic. Versed in its use, the gypsy knew what she had to look out for. Her eyes narrowed.

"The fuck?! That little prick's got a loaded mirror!" Yrba hissed to her protégé.

The guard stared into the tiny shard of glass. His jaw dropped, then he spun to them and bowed, extending his arms in adoration.