Blessed Isles 17: A Quickie Series

Blessed Isles 17

by Saint Limey

Read Time: 39 mins

I was dazed, not fully orgasmic, but straddling the edge so that a well-intended touch might easily set me off. Mardha rolled away from me into the river, her tits floating cutely. Chunali and I both looked at the same time and saw the obvious dent that I’d made in the woman’s abundant milk stores. It was good work, but something told me that she still had four or five of those mega-lactating climaxes in her before she’d even threaten emptiness. Her cream was just so thick; her breasts were bottomless vats, deceptively yummy and full—which was almost impossible to fathom since she was already on the larger side of Kkarians I knew.

It had been an honor to make her acquaintance.

Mardha gasped for breath, body glistening with river water. White rivers of her own making stained the fronts of her blimpish tits. She was an utter masterpiece of femininity. If anything, receiving an orgasm only made her even more apt to give. Her milk flowed freely, a constant stream into the clear, blue waters around her.

The sight brought out a blush when I faced Chunali.

“She was—. . .” I tried to talk, only to realize just how full of milk I was. My throat felt glued shut and I had to cough to clear it.

Chunali kneeled to me with the assistance of a long wooden staff. I hadn’t noticed it; that she was using it to get around. Her good leg bore most of her weight while leaning or kneeling.The other followed the first, bending reluctantly. Chunali didn’t hide the wince from me as she came to my level.

I sprang to her pain on sheer instinct. Every part of me from the chest up flung itself in her direction. Everything from sternum down, however, had other plans. I tried to roll and sit up at the same time, but what would have been a simple movement for me only minutes prior was complicated by my belly which was moved several seconds after the rest of me. It made a hollow, wet sound like that of trapped air escaping underwater; a low and dense whoomp! that was almost loud enough to distract from how I’d crashed down again into the sandy, rocky riverbank in my attempts at getting upright.

“I’m fine. Fine, fine,” Chunali said, seeing the panic in my eyes and finding my new orbish shape amusing. “Relax. Are you alright, though?”

In all honesty, the oxygen deprivation from nursing and the tumble I’d just taken rattled me a little bit, but I recovered. “You need a cane?”

“I don’t need one. It just makes it easier while I’m healing.”

“How’s the pain?”

“About the same. . .”

I couldn’t express with words how much I ached seeing Chunali—tree climbing, Pwim Bari playing, jungle princess—having to have assistance to move around. Thankfully, it hadn’t limited her independence.

“And you? I mean, you’re gigantic. I would guess that being so big would be its own sort of burden—that is, I would if you didn’t look so drunk on your size.”

I looked down at myself, finally seeing what I’d already felt against Mardha.

My belly was massive; biggest it had been in my stay on the Blessed Isles.

A giant pearl ball whose weight was constantly shifting with its contents, swinging back and forth until it found a side of my body it preferred, pulled the rest of me behind it. My hand extended to it, drawn in by the mysterious quality. It seemed like it couldn’t be connected to me, but at once, I felt the soft touch of my fingers on skin that was pulled so taut it all but tingled at my touch. I would have called it a milk baby—some blend of the idea of pregnancy and a food baby—but doing so just wouldn’t have captured the size. I was certain there were beach balls that were smaller than I was.

And I loved it.

Just touching the paunch made me want to moan. It wasn’t even the fact that I’d gotten off on drinking from Mardha which could have given rise to another orgasm all its own. It was the sensitivity of my skin while full of her milk. Warmth constantly cycled within me, flowing in and out, back and forth. It was a comforting fullness; not the type that would ordinarily make a person nauseous. It was as if I had some special talent for stowing away milk; the same way that people who eat competitively train their stomachs to hold more than the required number of calories was how my stomach behaved instinctively around Kkarian milk.

“Verne. . .” Chunali said, extending her hand. Hers lighted over mine and we both went in short circles around the heft of my milky tummy.

“Yes, Chunali?”

“You’re insane,” she said, unable to hide the snicker. “You don’t even know if Mardha has taken her oaths yet, do you?”

“Uh, oaths?”

“Like the ones I took that keep you from drinking from me? I’m forced into taking them as both a priestess and nobility, but other priestesses can also elect to have their mates selected for them. Had Mardha taken her oath,” Chunali said, tilting her head as if I should have known this. “You would have been married to her for life. . .”

“D-Don’t worry,” Mardha called from the river where she waded. “I haven’t taken the vows. My offering is to the service of the people. Though, after the sucking you just gave me, maybe I should have taken them. Wow. . .”

I blushed. “Oh, uh, thanks. You aren’t too bad yourself.” They were the only words I could put to the moment. I’d been a savvy seductress earlier, taking what I pleased from Mardha. Now, with talks of marriage in the works, I was a total mess. Calm confidence ebbed as soon as conversation switched to the nuptial. .

About that time, we were rejoined by Opple; rather, based on her face, she’d been watching for quite a while. All of the priestesses were turned in our direction, no longer subtle about their interest. Some giggled while others glared daggers at Chunali and Mardha.

Opple’s expression was quizzical. She forked her fingers through her braided hair and sighed. “I have no idea what Reffi was thinking letting you among us. . .”

“Aww, don’t be that way, Opple,” Mardha sprang to my defense. “She’s a sweetheart. She was only trying to help—which is what she’s supposed to do anyway, right?”

“Well, how is she going to help now? She can barely stand,” Opple said, looking me up and down, lingering on the evidence of my gluttony.

I appreciated the magnetic quality my tummy had, even if it was currently being scorned. All the women who came close seemed to want to bring it up, talk about it and what it meant, and pepper it with their gazes. Even my hands were urged to flutter down after a not-so-short break to roll over its surface. It gurgled playfully at my touch. It appreciated its size, somehow understanding at a level deeper than thought that it was right for me to be this size.

Maybe I could have been the Deliverer after all; in another world, another life. Someone whose instinct was to gorge herself on the milk of an entire island of lactating ladies and whose sloshing tummy was a pleasure and an envy to all those who beheld it.

But in this life, there was no such luck. The ‘Deliverer’ title was the genesis of my problems.

“I-I can move,” I answered stubbornly, conviction wavering in my voice. I went to stand, as I’d been beached like a whale up until that moment. When it was clear that I was going nowhere, Chunali loaned me her arm and we hauled me to my feet. My spent legs went wobbly on me, bowing inward under the new strain. My center of balance was precarious, having shifted several inches forward. With the eyes of every priestess on me, I boldly went to take a step. “C’mon, Saint whoever. . . help a girl out here,” I muttered.

And even despite everything that was against me—like the multiple gallons of thick, warm cream that eddied just beneath my skin—I managed a step toward Opple. The next step took me out of Chunali’s reach, truly testing me. Then, another unassisted step. It was about as impressive as watching a newborn deer figuring out her legs, but the stakes were higher here. I was making a statement; a sexy, clumsy statement.

The three women in my inner circle seemed invested.

“S-see?” I asked, showing Opple my upturned palms.

Opple did see. She just didn’t look impressed. Her slowness to respond was a reminder of the many roadblocks I’d run into as her charge; needing her tits to wake me up, being slow to fetch the water, and using my first break to render myself even more useless—sexy, rotund, and gurgling, but no less inoperative.

Then, with the crack of a smile—inspired by how hard it proved to be to get rid of me—Opple shrugged and began to turn. “You’re going to have to get rid of that thing somehow. You did well by trying to help, but all of the rest of the chores are physically demanding. ”

“I can handle physical stuff. I’ve done it already,” I balked, a bald lie.

“Slowly,” Opple clarified. “You were slow before with nothing weighing you down. With all of that,” she gestured to my gut which was wider than my shoulders and more than a foot in front of me. “you’re hopeless. It doesn’t help that Mardha put you up to this. . .”

Mardha groaned. “Relax, Opple. Gosh, you used to be so cool before your oath. Now you’re all stuffy. It’s like you think you’re Reffi or something. Before, you would have at least been able to enjoy having a new girl around—especially one that can drink so much breast milk. Don’t you think it’s impressive that Verne managed to drink this much? I think she got a good third of my supply.”

I could hardly stand and I’d only drank a third of Mardha. . .

“Wanna talk about Reffi? Fine. We can talk about how Reffi is going to react when she finds out our training priestess couldn’t even haul water without incapacitating herself—supplied by your milk, Mardha.” Opple pinched at her temples with her thumb and middle finger. “This’ll look bad on me, too. I was supposed to watch her. I called myself giving her a break and look where that got us. Reffi was right. I-I went too easy.”

It felt awful having them talk like I wasn’t right there. I spoke up. “I’ll just take the blame for it. No point in you guys getting punished for what I did.” When I said these words, Opple and Mardha looked at me with a sort of sadness. “I mean, what else could Reffi do to me that I haven’t been threatened with already. This was all sort of a long shot anyway. I. . .”

My voice trailed, a certain fatal quality mirroring a tiny, tickling blackness at the base of my spine.

I think everyone there knew what I’d been threatened with and, acknowledging it together, nobody seemed to think it was worth a few pails of water or a few gallons of breast milk.

Everyone was hopeless; lost, stuck. Nobody wanted me to shoulder the blame but there weren’t any better ideas either.

But in just such situations, it came as no surprise that Chunali, the one who had come up with the first last-ditch plan, was the most hopeful and resourceful of us all. I felt her before I saw or heard her and instantly warmed under the squeeze of her palm on my lower back.

“Actually, I think I have a way to fix this,” she answered, coming around to me.

“But how could. . .” I started before seeing the gleam of her golden eyes. I knew the meaning behind that look immediately. She stood taller than me but had a way of looking up out of her eyelashes that spoke volumes for devilishly delicious tendencies. “Chu. . . Seriously?”

“I don’t know how long it’ll take, Opple, but if you give me and Verne a little while I can promise we’ll have her back in working shape by this afternoon. That’s in time for the main prayers and sacrifices.”

“But Princess. . .” Opple said, closing in. “What about Reffi? O-Or the other priestesses. They’ll surely protest. Some of the Old Ones are not favorable about you taking alone time with her, what with what happened in the caves—. . .”

So word had gotten around. . .

“I’ll have Luula run interference. You do the same. It’s only a few hours and, like you said, there’s no other alternative.” Chunali turned to find me staring at her. “What?”

“Nothing. You just. . . you really do know how to take command. It’s the royalty in you.”

“Sure, Verne. Now, would you help me hobble back to the temple with a shred of royal dignity?” she asked with a cocky, self-deprecating grin.

“Yes, your Highness,” I said, doing an abbreviated curtsy, though it was obvious I couldn’t go too low without the risk of dropping straight to the ground.

Again, it wasn’t clear who was helping whom.

Chunali had the navigational skills, which we needed since we had to take an alternate route through the woods to get back to the temple. We didn’t risk the main path, noting that Reffi was a priestess like all the others and would likely come down to the river in the morning just like everyone else.

I took instructions well, helping her over certain stumps and limbs and down steeper slopes. Her hip was really bothering her. I worried about it constantly. Some small part of me wanted to think that she’d just need to sleep off her injury—that her ability to overcome everything thus far would translate into her hip and leg. One night and POOF! Back to usual Chunali.

However, if anything, Chu looked weary. She could hide her pain well, but now, on the second day of constant pain and alone with me, she let her heavy facade drop.

I knew better than to bring it up, though. We were trying to be stealthy. We were also trying to keep focused on Chunali’s plans, her mind being the one thing that couldn't be impaired by the injury she sustained.

Once back at the temple, we immediately climbed stairs and slopes till we reached her room. Along the way, we had to pass through the busy main road that ran right in front of the temple. Women looked shocked at my figure, the taut marble boulder that needed to be swung in the direction I wanted to move before my legs could follow. I was absolutely enormous, barely keeping my knees underneath me. The women we passed were used to hefting around their tremendous figures. The ratio was fifty-fifty on whether they held a mocking, dismissive expression or were on their way to help and needed fanning off.

As far as watchful eyes, the temple was much more relaxed. We’d left the priestesses at the river so there was less to worry about once within the ivory-colored walls. We could only hope that Reffi was among those who were enjoying the river, expressing her own heavy tits in pearly streams of deliciousness. I even found myself wondering what her milk would be like; thick, watery, smooth, almost sticky? Did she struggle with her hand milkings in the morning? If she did manage to catch myself or Chunali, would she be as lenient as Mardha and let me live if I made my tummy and mouth her personal nursing tools?

If so, I’d make that sacrifice. Reffi’s milf-tastic body had me buzzing just thinking about it.

“What exactly are you planning?” I asked, realizing that I had spent much of our temple time thinking of how I’d suck up—literally—to Reffi to save Chu if I had to. We were entering the curtain to Chunali’s space now, the place where she, Luula, and I had conversed most of last night. “You gave me quite the look at the riverside, but I went along with this plan without knowing the full scope of it. I only know the good parts. . . But what’s the rest?”

“You follow wordless orders well. You’re either the tiniest guard in all of Kkara or the most faithful friend I have.”

“I’ve said I would die for you several times. I’d like to think my faithfulness isn’t still in question.”

“Aww, you do really like me,” Chunali teased, hurling back the same words I’d used last night.

I smirked. “You’ve grown on me. Of course, nothing good ever seems to happen when we’re alone together.”

“True. Someone steals the founding documents of our religion,” Chunali used her cane to venture away from me toward the far wall, then used the wall to slowly let her body slide down into a seated position. “Then my sisters start some kind of uprising. Then, I get injured trying to resist a guard who was trying to take me away against my will.”

“The things we do for love, right?”

I loved Chunali. That was no mystery. But something about hearing it said out loud had us both pausing to look at one another. I was still near the doorway, wanting to know if I could make myself useful before sitting down. Chunali had ducked slightly to massage her leg. We both let our eyes find one another and the morning felt a little more still.

Words weren’t required. In fact, they weren’t even sufficient.

“I’ll come clean,” said the Kkarian princess. “This plan of mine is another long shot. It could work. . . or it couldn’t.”

“I’m listening.”

She gestured for me to come near, asking that I close the wine red curtain that served as a door to her space before I made the trip. As I did so, she talked.

“So we know you drank a lot of Mardha’s milk. We know what happens when you drink milk from others, and we know what happens when I drink your milk.” I was near enough for her to reach out her hand and lightly palm the pregnant boulder that was my belly. “I was just hoping we could, I don’t know, figure out a way of expediting that whole process?”

“You’re grand plan was to make the milk go to my tits so you could drink it?” I said, cocking an eyebrow. “We’re betting my life on something neither of us has any understanding of?”

She shrugged. “We’ll get a lot of fun out of it, at the very least.”

“I love it when you’re irresponsible. . . I mean, it’s usually my thing, but I’m more than okay with you turning into a little milk demon.”

“Sorry to step on your toes, love.”

“No, no, do as you must. I’m more than willing to go along with it. One of us has to have perspective and keep a level head about things and since you’re off in milk land somewhere, it has to be me,” Verne rolled her wrist, holding her nose up high as she teased. Chunali laughed making it all worth it.

I watched her settling on the floor, Chunali’s curvy body adjusting softly among her pillows in the corner. She still had trouble sitting, I noticed, as her guard was let down some around me and she winced as she made contact atop a stone-colored pad. Still, she came to with resilience and patted the spot beside her.

I came down too and it took nothing for us to steal this time away like teenagers under bleachers, immediately getting lost in the gluttony of lost love between us. One might have thought we had been separated across years and oceans, torn apart by circumstance, even though it had only been a few hours. We were blazing for one another, pulled apart for far too long.

“Mmmh,” I moaned, unable to keep myself silent anymore. Gosh, she delicious; so soft and warm all over. My hands were roaming immediately, remapping the parts of her I was certain hadn’t changed. Her angled but girlish face, her slender neck, her shoulders, strong but somehow still not as wide and pronounced as her generous hips. Her entire shape was bottom heavy and I adored it—it contrasted her people nicely, one of the few Kkarians who were bigger in the booty than they were in the breasts.

Not to say that she was a slouch in the breast department. Not one bit. In fact, before long, her hand grabbed my wrist and redirected my roving touch directly to her naked, exposed bosom. She was big. More than palmfuls. I felt that she was still taut from her own milk and was reminded that I couldn’t drink it; not till I proved myself a Kkarian. Still, I could feel it swirling. Even though she’d probably milked herself this morning, there was still some there, forming the plump, squeezable size that I enjoyed.

Her nipples were full, too; getting larger by the second. It was amazing to feel Chunali’s body shifting and changing, sensing her arousal as it turned her from a respectable, capable princess of the Kkarians—and even a devout priestess of her faith—to a horny, lusty lover. She kissed me with a sort of ravenousness as I squeezed her large, milky bosom, flesh getting caught between my fingers and palms launching their feminine mass into strong, hard circles.

“Fuck. . . Chunali,” I gasped, pulling away to breathe. She hadn’t given me a single damned break and I was drunk on how badly it seemed she wanted me. “Don’t get me wrong, this is great but. . . what’s up with you?”

“I’m just trying to see if your body works the way I think it does.”

“Were you wondering if groping your tits and making out makes me horny? Because you could have just asked, babe. Yes. Yes. You have the best tits and you know I can’t get enough of them.”

She chuckled, her lips still leaning toward mine. “No, I mean the other thing.”

“There’s another thing?”

“Wow, my tits must be pretty great if they make you forget. . .”

“The best.”

I scrunched my nose and stuck out my tongue. Chunali, still a sexual beast, sucked it into her mouth and kissed me all the deeper, not missing an opportunity for our soft, warm bodies to be connected again.

“The hornier you get, the quicker the milk moves,” she said, glancing down for the briefest moment.

It was a miracle that I caught her golden eyes. I wasn’t usually the type to kiss and grope with my eyes open. Still, I did feel her pulling away just enough for me to gain perspective. The view looking down was glorious. Chunali and I were basically on top of each other, her with the slightest bit of high ground, turned onto her good hip. I was the heavier one of the two of us thanks to my milk-glutted tum-tum, so it made sense that her thighs were turned in my direction, hers on top as she leaned into me and I braced against the wall behind us.

Below was an expanse of nude, girlish flesh. My boobs were tiny compared to hers, but they did have a nice contrast of tone and skin. We were both hard as diamonds in the nips like we were sword fighting over who would get to have more fun as we rubbed one another. Her right tip was flush against mine and our left nubs brushed past one another often amid our constant sawing and squeezing.

But below our breasts—which stole my attention for a countable number of seconds—was the moon of my belly pressed beneath Chunali. She half leaned on the bulge, the asteroid that remained as a result of my little morning snack. It was big enough to warrant assistance from Chunali while we traveled back to the palace, a perfectly taut globe in need of constant consideration.

And yet, as Chunali peeled herself off of me, gone stiff from having stayed in the same position for the past ten or so minutes, I noticed without a doubt that some part of me was smaller than before. Or, perhaps, some of the milk had gone somewhere since I couldn’t recall having any give in my belly previously. Now, it was like I could feel her sinking into me slightly, my flesh molding around her weight, letting her rest against me comfortably like a pillow instead of a rigid sort of frame.

“No way. . . it’s that easy?” I said, almost too dumbfounded to do anything but swear.

“Better yet, you mean to tell me you never did anything sexy while you had that big belly?”

“I mean. . . I was usually so full and warm that I just wanted to sleep. There was this one time, but I didn’t notice—. . .”

Chunali scoffed. “My Verne? Not noticing that sex makes her boobs bigger? I can believe a lot of things, love, but not that.”

I sighed, and I felt my belly drawing up even closer to me as the air left me. Now that she mentioned it and my tummy was at the forefront, I could feel that there was indeed a difference. It was barely perceptible—even I had to question how I was able to feel something going on—but the swirling within me was stronger. Warmth danced out from deep inside of me, spreading evenly as it emerged onto my skin. I felt myself growing tingly with something new; not the same as the promise of sex with Chu, but something more. My body was adapting, changing, and if Chunali was right, it was growing.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think to fuck with a belly like this,” I said, taking my hand off of Chunali’s boob for the sole purpose of smacking myself in the forehead with a palm. “I mean, c’mon. I had sex at every other point on the island. What’s the difference with the belly? Wow. I can’t believe I traded the best sleep of my life for big tummy sex.”

Chunali tried to look sympathetic but couldn’t keep the laughter out of her expression as she raised a hand to my face. “Aww, Verne. Don’t beat yourself up. There’s always time. Let’s focus on what’s going on right now.”

Even though I couldn’t believe the ease—the singular bent of good luck that we’d found here, in pseudo-exile, in another part of the Blessed Isles—with which we’d found it, I wasn’t one to look my lover in the face and pretend like I didn’t want it. Things had been hard enough. They would continue to be hard enough. And, after all, we were on a time crunch. Something needed to be done with my belly. The other priestesses were stalling for me, hoping that I could turn this whole situation around with Chunali’s assistance.

Like I needed more of a reason to fuck a literal Island Princess.

“Okay,” I said. “You’re absolutely right, as always. Let’s focus on making me the biggest, milkiest priestess here and then stop to try to figure out how all of this stuff works.” I gestured to my entire body, alluding to the fact that some miracle was at work allowing Kkarian milk to migrate through me so that I too could resemble a Kkarian, at least in proportion.

Chunali nodded solemnly. “Quite wise, Verne. I knew there was a reason that you were a candidate for my life partner. You can be grounded when you need to be.”

I snuggled closer to her, hand back on her breast the minute I had the opportunity, feeling her own milky warmth through her skin once again. “You mean it isn’t because I’m adorable?”

Chuanli humored me—and gosh was it amazing that she did. “You’re adorable and wise and so many other things. Now, how about we get you some nice, big boobs?”

“I knew there was a reason I fell for you.”

We devolved into kisses again, never leaving our mouths more than an inch or so apart for several long, lascivious minutes. Tongue was in the mix from minute one, hers a strong and confident lead to mine, which followed with eagerness. It wasn’t long before our lips were drenched, massaging one another with a potion mixed with our mutual mouths, a fire lighting as it parted from the side of my lips and dripped down my body.

I all but mauled Chunali’s boob and couldn’t keep myself from swapping while we kissed. Hers were amazing. I could never get tired of how they felt; the pressure against my palm and the alertness of her nipple. I kept expecting her milk to come out, hoping that I would get to see the Princess’s milk myself in this private setting. Would I be able to resist a taste? Would Chunali be able to tell me ‘no’ if I went for it? She clearly had some, as there was an intoxicating consistency with her golden-tanned globe that was almost all milk. And fuck did I want to taste it.

But then, all of what we were doing would be in vain. If Chunali would simply go with what I wanted from the start, there’d be no reason for all of these priestess shenanigans. We were here because she needed me to go through this. I would go through it a million times for her and taste her delicious, royal treat in due time.

For now, she kissed down my body. The fine hairs all over me stood up; straight goosebumps as far as I could feel. She treated each part of me as if it were sacred before branching off with a clear bias toward my more desirable spaces. Her range of motion was limited by her injury, but her tolerance for pain was heightened when she was in diligent, horny pursuit.

I adored it. Passion burned inside of me. Chunali was so gentle with me and yet so insistent, the perfect blend of a lover’s patience and hunger as she perused and devoured my skin just inches from my perky swells. Her lips sank lower and lower until her head was square above my heart, making it skip beats even as it throbbed, leaping up at her. I froze as her hand lighted on my hip, then felt her fingers walking toward the swell of my belly. At her touch, it swirled. I heard the sound of milk sloshing—milk in my belly starting to rush elsewhere at the mere insistence of the Kkarian Princess. She had command of things in more ways than one, it seemed.

“That’s amazing,” I wheezed, feeling my body being undone. My eyelashes fluttered, my own voice echoing against the stone walls around us, my blonde hair—in terrible need of a cut—clinging to my forehead as I whipped my chin up in an attempt to lengthen myself, creating the illusion of more places for Chunali to kiss. “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” Chunali growled next to my breasts. “I would never.”

I felt teeth; hard, fast, raking. They pulled at my skin and met in a light, pinching bite just above my right breast. My leg kicked out involuntarily. My womanhood was a storm—a tropical, wet typhoon in need of dire attention. It felt so amazing what she was doing to me, her attention to each and every hitch and sigh from me to play my body like her instrument. I’d never known such ascension; such rapture.

Then, she took my nipple into her mouth and unknown bliss fell on top of me like a bolt of lightning.

“Ahhh, fuck!” I moaned, unable to help it, air jumping from me at a speed that nearly sliced through my vocal cords.

My hard, risen peak, set to pop with over-excited nerve endings, felt the warm embrace of the same tongue I’d had the pleasure of being reacquainted with before. The same way she danced while she was in my mouth, she danced against my nipple. Her cadence varied expertly; slow and quick laps to coax me to a throbbing sense of attention, then long laps to draw whatever it was moving from my belly to my breast all the faster. For a woman who knew nothing about this magical miracle, Chunali definitely knew how to make the experience hundreds of times better. I could barely move, every muscle within me seizing involuntarily as I lost myself to her suckling.

The potion of saliva in her mouth worked wonders for the sensation; adding to it, smoothing it over so that roughness and lightness all blended together. I could feel her spittle dripping down my ribcage after it had thoroughly lubricated my breast, some small part of my attention still able to capture its slow descent down my nude body, becoming yet another wet spot among the blankets and pillows that served as our resting place. My skin was more than just alight with pleasure but it glistened as moist patches caught morning sun that spilled through Chunali’s windows; the ones I’d seen her leaning out of just an hour or so ago.

“I-I’m gonna lose it Chunali! Fuck. Mmmm,” I said, surrendering my first orgasm. She coaxed a searing flood out of me, her teeth and tongue and suction at too regular and speedy an interval not to drive me all the higher. My little teats had always been sensitive, happily twisted and pinched and pulled, and Chu showed her deftness and enthusiasm for them as she wrapped her lips, teeth, and tongue around them.

My first orgasm rolled through, battering me like a wave. I slipped down in the fuss of it, lost as every part of me relaxed and unwound to the sinking, calming sensation. As a result, Chu, who was already on top of me, fell down with me and we both sank even further into our nook.

Our bodies clapped pleasantly against one another, Chu’s plump breasts against my belly. I felt the pleasant pressure on her taking me from up top, her hand still in motion as she squeezed and pressed against the swell of my tummy while she looked up at me with her golden eyes and smiled, her full lips bulging around my turgid nipple; a testament to either my hardness or her pillowy softness.

“I feel them growing,” she said between ardent moans. “Mmm, I think it’s working. . .”

I gasped. Heat from her breath made my already stiffened peaks quiver with need. “That’s great and all, but keep going. Even if it’s not working just don’t stop.”

“You’re amazing,” she commented, eyes filled with mischief.

I wanted to redirect that at her—that climax had been heaven. It was the pinnacle of orgasms, which was funny to think of since orgasms generally felt pretty good. But, when you’ve had enough of them, you start to detect a quality to each of them; some for relief, some for relaxation, some for routine.

Every time I climaxed at Chunali’s hand and mouth was in my big ‘O’ hall of fame.

But she didn’t stop with just one. Oh, no. She pulled back off of my first nipple, a satisfying pop escaping as hollowed cheeks filled once again, suction broken, and maneuvered over to my under-attended pap. I loved the view of her as I looked down my body, leaving one moist, glistening hill, and finding love in yet another. They weren’t all that much to speak of but they still had a great shape and were greater in terms of thrill. My stiff, pink peaks were ringing with rapture, stolen from sight that only doubled the tense, clenching pleasure as they disappeared behind Chunali’s lips.

She was sucking me like she wanted something. . .

I didn’t take note of exactly when it clicked—sometime between her holding me down and squeezing me with her free palm, moaning as she went about it—but the Chunali on top of me hungered for more than just sex and intimacy. Those were there as well, but there were signs of even more being present.

She lapped at me smoothly, slowly, and lingeringly. Her teeth latched more than they clinched or teased. Her groaning was low, vibrating through my sensitive titty flesh, both in appreciation of the moment, remembrance of our times together, and expectance of what was to come.

“God—dammit Chunali, that’s good. That’s really good. Fuck,” I gasped, losing myself all over again peaking just moments before. She was fishing them out of me; these orgasms, like a damned snake charmer calling to something coiled deep within my person, an ancient and pure need to meet her needs.

With milk.

My belly gurgled. Chunali’s curvy body was pressed against it, balanced atop it, her weight evenly distributed as she ministered to me and, in so doing, preparing a meal for herself. The gurgles turned to growls and then, suddenly, into a washing like that of falling water. We both felt the sudden lurch within me—no small shifting of weight as my body, by invisible forces neither of us understood, began to change. Before, when milk left my tummy on a promenade toward my funbags, there was a slow, trickling process about it. It was soothing enough to sleep to and warm enough to serve as comfort.

But my body under Chunali’s guidance—care, insistence, need, lust, gluttony—felt like a highway’s worth of cars packed onto a two-lane street. There was so much trying to move at the same time, so much that the pressure made me wallow and jerk about. The muscles in my neck clenched as an absurd amount of pressure began just below my rib cage, pressed against my spine like a collapsing star, and burst into lights and power atop my heart. My skin rushed forth, a change that I felt more than saw as my eyes were slammed shut, another climax whipping through at a blistering rate, as bursts of creamy nectar filled the spaces just beneath my skin.

It was a strange and glorious thing—not as simplified as pleasure or pain. The complexity of the feeling of milk making me bigger, of the change in weight as my already labored breathing adapted to the addition of even more weight, or the sense that my throbbing heartbeat could be felt through each boob. It was everything I wanted and more, yet another experience with my lover that I’d never forget.

“Fuck! Chunali, fuck. . . I-I can’t—. . .”

“Mmm! M-Mmmh! Ahhhn!”

So much of what Chu and I had was secret—in caves and the cover of night. Privacy was our sexual stage for such a long time.

Here I got to hear her womanhood pouring out of her, the heat and pressure of her body, and my intimate knowledge of each part of it rolling over me again and again. I noticed everything; the way her braids untangled at their ends and tickled at the sides of my steadily milky breasts, the hard scraping of her nipples against my ribs, and the moistening of her folds below. She groped and squeezed, rubbed and teased, a woman bent over by her need for our joined flesh and bodies.

And allured by the changes she was creating in my own.

I peeked beneath my fluttering lashes, still wincing at how good my body could feel—even the stone that I felt at my back between the pillows I’d readjusted during my squirming felt good, dammit—and was treated to the sight of my girlfriend pressing my boobs against her face. Chunali nuzzled against them with her cheeks, her lips at a full pout as she peppered them with kisses.

“They looked sensitive. I didn’t want to overstimulate you while you go through this,” she said, realizing she had my attention. “And knowing you, you would never tell me to stop no matter how much you needed the break.”

“You know me too damned well,” I replied, gasping for breath, my voice a rasp. My shoulders rose and fell, a bead of sweat finally gaining enough heft to drip down my temple toward the sheets. I couldn’t escape the pressure and the labor that I was being put under. Milk—but something else, too, like air or some ephemeral, spiritual thing—was slowly filling me, moving me closer to my nonexistent hips and waistline and further away from the illusion that any bra would ever fit me.

And thank Saint Limey, the women on the Blessed Isles didn’t care about boob coverings.

“Trust me,” Chunali said, nodding. Her chin dug into my burgeoning chest flesh, denting it slightly; pleasantly. “When I’m full, I’m super sensitive, too. I understand. I wouldn’t put you through that. . . Without warning.”

“Was that my warning?”

Chunali just smirked, devilish and so, so sexy. I couldn’t keep my hands off of her.

The break she gave me opened us up to a slow moment of couple time. I stroked her braided hair, kissing the crown of her head as she cuddled close against me. Her massaging of my swollen, aching boobies never ceased, her ministrations helping usher in the new size. Even after doubling in cup size—not the biggest feat, or even the most accurate what with how small I’d been all this time—I still couldn’t see much more than a dent in the milk in my tummy but was still seeing steady growth in my tits. Mardha’s milk was so insanely dense and Chunali concluded that that fact was probably an important consideration as far as my stubborn belly bloat.

We chatted, slow and sweet, hands roaming one another freely. I finally—finally—was able to have my way with her ass; that plump, bronze bubble. It was just as massively alluring and disproportionately enormous as it looked, and twice as fun to swat at. I wasn’t surprised to find it just as perky and playful as her tits, easy to squeeze and fun to get a little rough with. I could tell she was humoring me. Her entire village had women that looked the way she did. Big booties were staples, as were flaring hips and large thighs. For her, it was probably a point of beauty that went easily overlooked. And I was mostly positive that some of the women of the Isles appreciated my smaller physique not because it was helpful for anything that they actually needed to do—gathering herbs and plants, carrying buckets of water, milking their fat, creamy tits—but because it was a stark difference to everything they had any experience with.

“It’s so bouncy. . .” I mused anyway, giving her a big spank that caused an echo all around us.

And I loved how Chunali, who was so thick and well-padded that the hit barely registered, rolled her eyes and snuggled deeper into my bosom. “So are you,” she commented. “I love your shape. Your chest sits so high.”

“Headlights.”

“Hmm?” Chunali sounded.

I blinked, remembering. “Back where I’m from, some people called them ‘headlights’. Boobies that sit high up. Headlights are lights that go on the fronts of cars. I keep forgetting that we haven’t known each other our whole lives; that you haven’t been to my world.”

“I long to see your world,” Chunali said. “Are cars and their boob lights common?”

I giggled. “Cars are all over. ‘Headlights’, too, though they don’t always come together.”

“Pity.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Are all headlights as good as your headlights?”

My arm was conveniently wrapped around her as she was half-on-half-off of me, so a slight bend at the elbow was all that was needed for me to pull her head toward my chest and squeeze her between my tits.

Just the idea of it would have been erotic enough; my sexy island lover kissing the space between my soft skin and milk-laden titties. But the reality of it was an inconceivably huge enhancement. My flesh was growing as I smothered her and the precise awareness I had of how much space I had between my jugs was delightful enough for a moan. Chunali’s butterfly kisses certainly helped in that department.

I was huge! Not my biggest on the isles for sure, but positively bursting. It was so much more obvious with this growth how striking my veins were and how much harder my nipples had gotten. I positively teemed with milk, weight, and mass that wouldn’t be easily dispensed with. Of course, with Chunali around, I had my doubts about such a fact. The last time she’d drank the milk I’d gotten, she was the one who had to show restraint because I would have let her take everything. Still, I couldn't help but feel, in that same ancient and primal part that wanted to feed Chunali in the first place, that I’d have more than enough to satisfy her. And such a thought could sustain me through sensations of bloat and tightness.

“You tell me if you think anything compares,” I said, teasing and breathless as I hunched my shoulders forward and collected as much of my balloons as I could between my arms. It was, unsurprisingly, a vast and luxurious amount as flesh pooled up between Chu and me, surrounded her, and began to wrap around the back of her head.

Rather than pull away playfully, it was like my softness reminded her of our purpose. She lunged forward even more ravenously, pushing me back against the wall, twisting her neck so that her face jostled my size. My boobs rippled. My heart fluttered. Another huge wave of swelling and bloatedness chased over me and I noticed my boobs being pushed further out by more than just our tight confines. I grew again, several inches in just a few seconds, the feeling of relief only crossing over me when I had two engorged melons perkily resting upon my chest.

“Chu, fuck!” I moaned. Her break was over—maybe she was just taking a break from the break—because she was letting my boobs have it. My nipples felt electric, like any touch would set them off.

“That answer your question,” she replied, sharking her eyes above my cleavage line just enough, her mouth still submerged so that her words rumbled through me.

“You beautiful monster,” I squinted at her.

“Tell me more about cars. And your world.”

“Any reason you want to know right now?”

“Say that I was considering your offer—of leaving with you. I’d want to know what I’m getting myself into.”

“Fair enough,” I said, thinking deeply about where to start. “So, boobs. Back where I’m from they aren’t nearly this awesome. . .”

“Why do you want to go back there again?”

“Hush, you.”

And she did hush. She hushed with my taut titty flesh in her mouth. And after I was done moaning, I told her everything she wanted to know.