Yrbas Travels Pt 12

Part 12 — Eruption

by

Paul Gerard

(a pen name)

~

Part 12 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:

You guessed it, eh? I re-read it myself, again. Sorry. Wanted to get this final installment of the series out. So you'll have to kindly ignore grammar goofs and gaffes which I may have overlooked. At least there shouldn't be any "wether/whether" left in this text, but I'm sure there's still the odd word every now and then. Deal with it :)

~

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:

Mirca's grip on her explosive gift still isn't what it should be when she suddenly finds herself worshipped as the new god-queen to the throne of Ebron shire after a row at the town's drawbridge. Early next morning, Yrba gets ousted by Carwon, the upstarting vizier — a decision he soon comes to regret. Upon her triumphant return, Yrba learns, much to her surprise and dismay, how quickly her pupil came to enjoy a queen's pampered lifestyle. Hoping that Mirca will soon tire of the palace life, Yrba takes to the road and goes back to her old ways of trading and bartering. With each visit, the witch and her pupil grow further apart — and Mirca keeps on growing in different ways, too...

Part 11 — Oil to the Flames:

The distractions of her palace life get the better of Mirca, and almost end in disaster when her explosive growth kicks in at the worst possible time. Lucky for her, Yrba is around to stem the lactic tide. Incapacitated and wounded by the strain, the gypsy comes to rely on her own personal chambermaid and repays the girl's services with the very special ones that only a witch versed in body alteration can provide.

Mirca's envy about this is the final straw on the back of their teetering relationship. Yrba leaves — for good?

~

Part 12: Eruption

"We have come too far

and we've got the scars

and we are never going back into the shadows again"

—

Melissa Etheridge,

Giant

~

Chapter 62: Think BIG

~

The huge throne room of Ebron's double-domed palace was deserted, except for the queen on her divan and the man behind her. He coughed politely before he addressed her, whispering in her ear.

"You know, we need to stockpile food for the winter?"

Mirca nodded. She snuggled her back against Carwon, her vizier and former secret lover who had just recently been promoted to official husband. The strain on the root of her breasts increased ever so slightly as she inched away from the gigantic pair of blobs of milk-white skin, each two yards across, perched on two movable, fur- and silk-lined tables in front of her. He kissed her shoulder and ran his fingertips over her naked seven-feet shape that dwarfed his skinny frame, tracing her muscled hourglass shape that had not changed at all through the months of her knockers' slow expansion.

"And you know food goes bad after a while?"

Another nod from the giantess. Yes, she knew far too well. Her years as a demure serf had taught her, even though a loaf of bread started to

move

, it was still food enough to give it to servants. The memory sent a chill down her spine.

"So then — Mirca, please don't laugh, but I've got this idea —," Carwon hesitated and kissed her again. "It's just a weird idea. But ever since I saw you grow, I — I'll tell you, and you tell me if you think it's too freaky."

She chuckled. "Carwon! What are you up to

now?

Come on, out with it. Don't worry, I won't swell up in anger again. Your potion works wonders, you know."

He was glad that she couldn't see his face as he remembered his talk with Yrba about just that topic. Clearing his throat, he muttered:

"All right, then — do you think you could hoard enough milk for the whole shire?"

He looked at her, at her stunned expression as she strained her neck to stare him in the eyes, and he started gnawing on his lips.

"Forget it, Mirca. It was just a stupid idea. I mean, it's just because your milk never goes bad, with all that magical strength in your body, but —"

"Why not? Let's give it a try. I've always felt this hunger, like there's something missing in me all the time. When do we start?"

She giggled and rubbed the skin of her breasts as far as she could reach — which wasn't too far by now. "You heard that, me darlings? I'll stuff the pair of you until you are big enough to feed my whole shire!"

Mirca shuddered in anticipation. The

idea

alone, just imagining the sight ... growing, bigger and bigger and

bigger

, her breasts finally rising over the low mountains like twin sisters to the pale moon, bloated orbs filled with milk, heavy and full, and feeding

thousands

with an endless stream of cream pouring from nipples like huge boulders; the white, thick liquid foaming and raining down from her breasts in a neverending waterfall of nurture —

"Carwon," she purred as her fingers wandered blindly down his loins, "Your goddess needs your

services

, and fast!"

~

Mirca eyed the row of tables covered in empty plates, and the chain of servants emerging from the kitchen. The handmaidens grabbed the movable tables under the queen's breasts and rolled them to her sides, spreading her cleavage wide enough for the waitresses to bring the overflowing plates within Mirca's reach.

"

More?

Oh Cawwy-darling, I'm stuffed already. Let's call it a day."

He stepped in front of her and stroked the walls of her taut cleavage that rose almost to his head. The maids let go of the perches and the tables rolled back by a few feet, just far enough for the pliable volume of Mirca's breasts that bulged over the rim to envelope his body and squeeze him closer to Mirca's chest.

Carwon leaned in and whispered, "Dear, the whole shire has offered half of their food to you because they're so proud of you. They want you to grow even bigger, to stock up more for the winter. You don't want to disappoint them, do you?"

She looked down on him, in the way of a trusting sheep.

"Oh all right then, I —"

Her stomach growled, and she raised her eyebrows. "Well,

that

was fast. Oh yes, I think now I could use another snack." She beckoned the maids closer. The tables' wheels squeaked again, and the warm pressure on the vizier's body disappeared.

"

Already?

" Carwon scratched his head. "Goodness, sweetie, I need to talk with the cooks first, maybe they can find something more substantial than —"

Mirca gave him

the look

. He hastened to raise his hands in defense. "I'll talk to them right away. And after that—"

She leaned in to him, hooked her forefinger into the neckline of his toga, pulled him closer and whispered, "After that, we'll send the maids away and I'll wash down the dinner with a quick sip from your delicious rod. Of course. That dessert's really the best part. Oh Carwon, how do you manage to get it up again every time? I surely must be sucking you dry in the long run."

She smiled, lowered her head without letting him out of her stare and slowly licked her lips. Her eyes sparkled hungrily in the shadows of her face. "You'll have to be careful around my mouth, little sweetheart. I might swallow you neck and crop by accident."

Carwon's hand grabbed and squeezed her round, firm buttocks through the thin veils of silk tied around her still tapering waist. "Oh, I'm willing to risk that," he replied and smiled up at her, a little piece of driftwood lost in a sea of breasts. "I live only to please my goddess."

~

Chapter 63: Return Of The Return Of The Witch

~

Many months passed until Yrba's travels brought her near Ebron's capital again. She pulled the reins and halted her cart at the crossroads.

Ebron, two hours by horse

, said the sign. The tall, shapely Darkskin witch climbed from her caravan's box and stretched her toned legs while her horse lowered its head and started gnawing at the bushes by the side of the dirt road. Pressing her hands against the small of her back and her narrow waist, Yrba tensed her calves, rose to her toetips and arched her body.

Nnngh—oops! Dammit!

She jerked and bent forward, grabbing her massive breasts that had just spilled from her tight, black-and-red bodice. Yrba glanced around while she quickly stuffed the soft, melon-sized volume back into her straining dress. Rolling her shoulders and loosing her stiff neck muscles, she turned to the road sign and stood in front of it, in a wide-legged stance with slanted hips and her arms akimbo.

She chewed some more on the stalk of milkmaid's friend in her mouth and finally crossed her arms over her chest, only to lift her right hand to tap her thumb against her pouted lips moments later.

Should I visit her? What's she been up to? Grown even bigger? Dammit, the curiosity is killing me. Then again, things didn't go down well at all the last time. And if I show up — no. It'll only upset her. Leave it be, stupid old crone. She wants to be a cow, let her be a cow. It's her big gig.

Yrba lowered her head and put her hands to her hips, turning away from the sign.

I don't care anymore.

It was a lie, and she knew it.

~

Yrba spit out the stalk and pulled a fresh one from her pouch. Once again, her wagon clattered along the cobbled street that wound its way in serpentines through the town, leading up to the palace. She looked around, worried by a vague feeling of dread. Something wasn't right. And yet, there were children sitting by the side of the street. Through open windows, she saw women doing their laundry. Perfectly ordinary things, nothing she hadn't seen in another hundred towns on another hundred days. But, somehow, something felt

wrong.

It felt —

Then realization hit her. The children were

sitting

, not playing. And it was almost noon, yet the women weren't cooking. And the shops were empty. The men even hungrily eyed her

horse

.

She poked around, a little question here and there. She didn't like the answers, not at all.

A tavern? None, not in this town, not any more. All closed.

Provisions? No, neither for money nor barter. Just the rationed crocks with milk, every other day, at the palace gate.

What happened? Nothing had happened. Why? Was there anything wrong? Life was great. No better place to live than here.

No one was up in arms about the lack of food. Wherever she looked, wherever she listened: Nothing but praise for Carwon. Yes, getting only halved rations of milk was bad. As was the duty to deliver all of the food to the palace. But that was the way it was right now. He sure had good reasons for that. Nothing to do about it. Such a clever guy, so young and bearing all that responsibility so well. And our queen, what an incredible goddess, so full-breasted. Amazing. You sure get around a lot, traveller, but have you gazed in wonder at the statue of our queen yet? It's right over there, go ahead, looking is free.

Yrba stared slack-jawed at the towering sculpture and hoped desperately that it was artistic license and not to scale. She had to circle it a few times and then look really hard to finally find the tiny figure glued in between a pair of giant marble spheres.

~

"Yrba!"

The witch jerked in her cart's seat, spun around and looked down into the eyes of the woman who had called out to her. She gasped in surprise. The face, yes, the features seemed vaguely familiar. But the sunken-in eyes, the haggard look —

All the gods and demons! This is madness! What's going on here?

"Bara, no, Byra, no, wait, Brunhilda? — You're one of the maids from the palace, right?"

The young woman cast nervous glances around, but none of the passers-by showed anything but fleeting interest in them. She spoke quickly, almost under her breath, not looking Yrba in the eye.

"Not anymore. Few girls left in the temple these days. Mercenaries instead. And it's 'Brina'. Don't drive up to the palace. Don't! They'll be waiting for you for sure."

"Who are 'they'?"

"The new guards." Her eyes kept on wandering left and right, and she swayed a little, steadying herself with one hand on the caravan's corner. "Hurry, follow me. My father's got a little barn, next street to the right. You can hide your wagon in there. I've got something you need to see."

~

Brina shut the barn door. She had just barely put the latch back when she stumbled and keeled over. Yrba jumped to her side and propped her up. The witch's fingers felt bones with little more than skin over them.

Heavens!

She's just a twig!

"Brina! Brina, do you hear me?"

She rested the delirious girl's head on her chest and screamed, in more surprise than pain, when weak jaws dug into her breast as it bulged over her neckline.

"

Ye-ouch!

Brina! What are you doing?"

"Hunger — food —," mumbled the limp girl, snapping weakly at the nipple's bump showing through the witch's clothes.

With a sigh, Yrba pulled down the hem of her bodice.

"Seems I've missed my true calling," she moaned as her plump nipple disappeared into Brina's hungry mouth and her breast's glands woke with a shudder to spend their pent-up stock of sweet nectar.