When they called the other girls to give the news, Diane insisted on waiting until she arrived to document all the options before activating harmonization, saying they finished at Eve’s and were driving towards Norwell now. Eve stole the phone and said it was her turn next when the call cut off as it sounded like the two women fought over the device.
The succubus and goblin pair didn’t arrive until three. By then, Banda and Honoka stacked a few dozen boxes of things piled outside the house. The dairy was busiest in the morning and early evening to accommodate the holstaur women’s milking schedules, so few people were around when the black rental van pulled up with the moving trailer and they packed everything in minimal time.
Banda was so flushed and full of energy she looked like she could explode at any moment. Everyone understood. Once the trailer was loaded, they went to the main milking building and were led by the holstaur to one of the unassigned stations in the back.
“Remember, we don't know how many points you need,” Diane said, pulling a stool over from a neighboring stall. Because it was moving day, the ginger succubus filled out green leggings that matched her tail and wings and hid nothing, not even the fact she was going commando, as her camel proudly shouted to the world. These were paired with a cutoff black T showing some tantalizing underboob she ordered recently because it read I am the first woman to be baptized entirely in jizz and all I got was twelve percent! across her chest. “It might be a hundred points and we could have to spend between one and ten today just to exit the menu. This is exploratory first, understand?”
Banda nodded, trying but failing to temper her excitement. The holstaur girl attempted to patiently wait in the milking station and failed, the other women politely sitting on stools around her with understanding and loving grins.
Honoka winced, realizing if the points were too high, it would devastate her holstaur wife. Crossing her fingers, the Collector pulled up her Status with trepidation and selected the Unspent Harmony Points.
“Everything looks the same, no changes from last time,” Honoka said to the group, her eyes glazed as they looked at an invisible interface she alone saw. “Only, you know, giant naked Banda in my face this time.”
“Aww, I want to see naked Banda!” Eve quipped, reaching groping hands towards the blushing holstaur. The little green woman wore a goth style spaghetti tank top with razored tears in the fabric over a long-sleeved fishnet, black torn jeans with a studded belt on her short legs. Her fingernails were painted black and she wore black lipstick.
“Might not be a bad idea,” Diane said thoughtfully as she typed like a blitzkrieg into her phone. Eve’s grin turned predatory, Banda looking betrayed. “Whatever you select, it might cause physical changes and that would destroy clothing.”
Banda sighed, unbuttoning her shirt. “You are probably right. If a holstaur waits too long between milkings, her breasts can grow impossibly large. My cousin Heather once went for almost a week because of a camping trip. In the end, her boobs hung past her knees and she couldn't walk anymore.”
Honoka discretely wiped some drool from her chin, not knowing everyone locked their eyes in on her perverted leer, sharing a knowing look between themselves. “Anyway,” the black woman said as she adjusted herself in her seat to account for her sudden erection, “same four categories: Attributes, Body, Racial and Rectify. Moving to Rectify for now…”
The wait grew unbearable, but it wasn't long. With a smile, Honoka announced. “Found it. Lift Curse Of Unsuckled Young To Regain Connection To Milk Of The Taurines, nine points!”
Everyone cheered, everyone cried. Minutes passed as they celebrated while Banda flung off her clothing in record time. Diane remained the only voice of reason as she repeatedly told Honoka to not lock in the points yet, they needed to document Banda’s other options. The holstaur complained, gripping her breasts when she felt she was so close, but eventually became convinced of the long term benefits.
Honoka searched through the options, finding the Attribute and Body options almost identical to Diane’s menu. The Racial menu was as personal as would be expected, a whole subsection dedicated to improving the quality, quantity and unique magical add-ons to her milk. Increase Daily Output by 33%, four points. Increase Nutritional Value by 25%, four points. Gain Once A Day Power To Adjust Taste, eighteen points. Gain Healing Properties, twelve points. Gain Addictive Additives, five points.
Other interesting Racial entries included: Change Race to Celestial Taurine, forty-five points. Gain Shockwave Hoof Attack, fifteen points. Become Taurine (herdmaster) And Challenge Cretus For Place In Pantheon, two thousand and five hundred points. They also learned her temper could be cured (twenty points), her hooves possessed a defect making them more brittle (six points) and she had a small problem with her blood pressure (one point).
It took over an hour to list everything. Eve long ago grew bored and drove everyone nuts as she snuck around the stall, randomly poking her wives in increasingly compromising places.
The spacious dairy filled with people as afternoon milkings began, hundreds of holstaurs talking or lowing while they were drained. Someone had spotted the odd group because before they finished up, Aunt Cholena came over, actively having to shoo away nosy holstaurs and farmhands gossiping nearby.
The matron looked like she was ready for her own milking, wearing clothing identical to what Banda wore most of the day: buttoned red and white checkered long-sleeved shirt with rolled-up sleeves and knee-length jeans. Truth told, a lot of the holstaurs wore identical clothing, making it a kind of uniform around the diary. Practical and wholesale trumps fashion when it comes to expensive custom garments. The difference was two large damp spots on the thick wool of the shirt, though it didn't bother the matron because it was just her Racial reality.
As the older holstaur finally got prying ears far enough away, she beamed down at her niece and asked, “Well?”
“Its gonna happen!” Banda squealed, finding and gripping her aunt’s hand.
“It should start in a few seconds, actually,” Honoka said, focusing on confirming both the lifting of the curse and the blood pressure. “There.” With the menu out of her way, Honoka turned and bowed her head slightly to the matron. “In fact, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, none of the rest of us girls know how to work these pumps and we could use your help.”
“I’d be honored. Shouldn't…” Cholena trailed off as everyone looked towards the woman of the hour who was in trouble.
“Girls, I…aaah!…don't know what's…ooooooo!…going on.” In a matter of only a few seconds, Banda’s already immense boulders expanding outward around fifty percent in size, her skin quivering as it bloated visibly while everyone watched. A panicking Banda held them up as if trying to keep them from growing, but not even her massive thews were able to stop it. A loud stretching sound, like gripping a steering wheel too tightly, exploded in the stall as a burst of growth happened. In another ten seconds, their size doubled again and the expansion only grew faster. When they reached that size, as if a faucet spun open, Banda’s teats - which also swelled and looked like water balloons about to pop - gushed out high pressured cream and soaked everyone there as Banda groaned in orgasmic relief.
The experienced matron took over, snapping out orders while she rushed forward to stuff growing nipples into idle pumps. “Lift her out of the chair and above those tits, don't want her to suffocate if they grow any larger!”
The wives complied, barely able to tip the nearly insensate woman forward with some sloshing as her boobs continued to inflate with milk. In less than a minute, her breasts were each larger than Banda’s whole body, pushing the pumps off completely as her nipples outgrew the apparatuses and a flood of milk doused the increasingly smaller stall.
“What is happening?!” Honoka asked, looking for answers from Cholena as they all fled out of the stall. “How much does a holstaur usually produce a day?”
“Around thirty gallons (113.5 L) or more, depends on the girl,” Cholena muttered, eying the flood already arching over the stall walls and splashing all around them. “Not this much, though.”
“Um, Banda said holstaur breasts grew if they haven't been milked in a while,” Eve pointed out, mesmerized by the taut pink breasts growing to the point of pushing against the flimsy walls of the stall. “Status things sometimes act weird, so hasn't it been over five years since Banda’s been milked?”
“Sweet Christmas!” Diane pulled out her phone, wiping some droplets off the screen in futility as the entire area now rained milk. “Five years times three hundred and sixty-five days times thirty…55,000 gallons! (208197 L)”
“Minimum. It might be as much as 100k. Holstaurs can produce a lot of milk. Idiotic Status douchebaggery!” Decisively, the matron pulled out her phone and tapped it a few times, causing an air raid siren to wail outside. A few more taps and a PA system cracked to life and the older woman spoke into her phone to the entire building. “Emergency, immediate evacuation of Dairy One. Repeat, everyone drop everything and haul herd out of here. David, move your team over to stall 37G in quadrant four. Bring as many pumps as your guys can carry.”
Banda’s milkers now filled the stall from wall to wall, her nipples as large as someone’s thighs and pushing against the prefab walls. The rest of Banda’s body no longer touched the ground and twitched as she came again and again while being entirely supported in the air by her mountainous knockers. The milk spilling out of her measured in a localized monsoon level, the four women backing up to try and gain a breather from the creamy storm. With a deep groan, the walls burst apart, freeing the pink and veiny flesh as a new round of growth surged forward, knocking more stalls down in the boobalanche. The women ran, joining others who came out of their stalls in confusion, seeing the oncoming mammaries, screaming, and trying to escape being boobed to death.
“Are those tits?!” a burly minotaur said with a reddish coloring to his fur, wearing only a pair of jeans to present possibly the world’s most perfect male chest. His diet probably consisted of eating bodybuilders. Even with Honoka’s preferences, she admitted to admiring the chiseled work of art this Heracles presented. He carried one of the massive pumps with one hand as if it was a lunchbox. Behind him followed six other minotaurs of not quite as impressive builds but all equally hunky in their own ways, each also casually carrying the five hundred pounds (226.8 kg) of machinery.
“Mind out of your pants, David, need you boys to drain those puppies,” Cholena said, sloshing out as much of the milk soaked into the fur on her face as she could. All the girls were covered in cream and now that they gained some distance, they tried to wring themselves out.
David looked at the nipples that were now the size of an adult and sitting ten feet (3 m) off the ground, down at the pump that fit in his hand and then back again. “You’re gonna need a bigger boat.”
“I pay you by the gallon, don’t I?!” Cholena stated emphatically, waving her hands at Banda. “Sooner you save my dairy from collapsing, sooner you boys can pay for new trucks with cash! Figure it out!”
Capitalism for the win, David and his team no longer hesitated as they charged into the milk tsunami. Honoka worried about Banda, so the wives followed Cholena around the edge of the dairy until they spotted her propped up almost twenty feet (6.1 m) into the air and looking unconscious but otherwise ok.
Overlooking the damage done to her dairy and pursing her lips as she noted both the slower expansion of breasts and minotaurs standing on each others’ shoulders to place pumps directly into the milk ducts, Cholena turned around and clapped her hands.
“Who wants dinner?”
********************
After a quick hose-shower to go from drenched in milk to just drenched, the most surprising thing to Honoka - even more than super boobs - was that dinner consisted of hamburgers. Cholena laughed, saying the joke never got old and ate hers with grilled onions and steak sauce. Honoka shrugged it off as just one more weird thing and enjoyed hers with mustard and green peppers.
In the end, Banda’s breasts grew to roughly the size of forty feet (12.2 m) in diameter each and mostly retained a squashed spheroid shape until they pressed up against the thirty-foot ceiling and compressed downward by the steel beam rafters. Dozens of stalls were flattened but most of the damage, Cholena assured the wives, was superficial. Areola fifteen feet (4.6 m) wide, nipples seven feet (2.1 m) thick and twelve feet (3.7 m) long, David brought in as many farmhands as he was able to gather, running hoses into twenty pumps per breast. They had built scaffolding, ladders climbing up Mount Tits. Working like men possessed, running fifty-five-gallon (208.2 L) drums from the pumps in and out constantly, the dairy was a massive hive of activity.
“How long do you think it will take until Banda’s down to manageable levels?” Diane asked, snapping some pics on her phone as they all stood out of the way of the minotaur farmhands.
“It is math at this point,” Cholena stated, accepting a datapad from a helpful human Native American girl. “There is a lot of spillage. With breasts those size, forty pumps chugging a constant two gallons (7.6 L) a minute each, sometime late tomorrow or early the next day is when we’ll finish. Banda’s not getting any sleep, but neither is anyone else.”
“I hope I don’t sound Internet Ignorant,” Honoka stated without confidence, just curiosity, “I’ve only been reading about dairy farming since yesterday, but I thought milk pumps needed to run at least half that speed to prevent damaging the milk.”
“Good of you to research on your wife’s family business,” the matron said with a smile. “Yes, if we milked cows using a traditional AMS, then the ratio is around three gallons (11.3 L) every five minutes. Most systems then put the raw milk through a separator to extract the cream from the milk. Holstaur milk is preferred raw by our Racial customers, so no need to separate. It is actually more stable and robust than cow milk, the consistency of the protein molecules similarly in line with goat’s milk. Holstaur women are also more robust: a little aggressive suction feels really good.” She chuckled at the bashful look Honoka gave the older woman. “So no separators or filters, our pumps are really just glorified vacuums and those drums are stacked in temperature-controlled trucks, then shipped from anywhere between here and St Louis.”
“Sorry to take up so much of your manpower,” Honoka apologies.
“Don’t be, our milk maintains a higher demand than supply, we are going to make a killing this quarter. And because all my girls are paid by the gallon, Banda’s receiving a check this month in the tens of thousands.” The matriarch took a two-way radio off her belt and spoke into it. “You doing ok up there, Littlefoot?”
“Peaches and cream, Aunt Cholena,” came Banda’s voice from the other end. Although the expanded holstaur couldn't turn around, they all saw her wave in their vague direction.
“Oh, I love that movie!” Diane tittered as the older holstaur handed the radio to Honoka.
“Are you hungry, do you need anything?” Honoka asked after fumbling to hit the right switch.
“Nope, still…full…from lunch.”
The embarrassment was heard clearly even over the radio. It didn't help that the mountains of boobs appeared to darken in a body blush, an impressive sight, like dusk over a sea of tits. Everyone turned to Honoka as the black woman smiled devilishly.
“Are you sure? If you want seconds, I might—”
“Nope!” The radio squawked with feedback. Banda’s nervous squeak was faintly heard from across the building. “I'm good!”
Everyone had a good laugh. “Well, then we’ll head out,” Honoka said after she calmed her chuckling down. “We’ll be by tomorrow, but call us if there’s anything we can do. Loves you!”
A chorus of loves and loves you went around with kissing sounds before Honoka handed the radio back. Cholena hooked her radio on her belt and bent down to give Honoka an affectionate hug.
“Call my number instead of Banda’s, her phone is buried under the Rock Of Gilboobie.”
Diane pointed at her phone and did a thumbs up to assure Honoka the succubus saved the number. The wives said their goodbyes and went back to the van. Diane drove, Honoka in the back with Eve. The goblin girl sat well within the black woman’s personal bubble, smiling up with a feral grin.
“Y-yes?” Married she might be, but personal space remained something Honoka needed to adjust to being invaded.
“Now that Banda’s taken care of, there’s still a wife in need of attention.” Eve reached one of her clawed hands under Honoka’s damp blouse and moved upwards.
“Pfft!” Diane pffted, checking her map app on her phone before turning left. “I muffchugged you three times last night then induced you into a cuma with a dildo larger than Honoka’s BBC.”
“Well, I'm all hot and aching from seeing the largest bazoongas in the world and we are going to sit in this van for ninety minutes. With normal levels of traffic, downtown will be a parking lot.” Eve was able to work her way under Honoka’s bra and lightly scratched stiff nipples, forcing a muffled moan out of the pent up woman.
The chocolate futa admitted she nearly burst when watching Banda explode like that. At the time, she worried most about the holstaur’s safety, then if Banda was alright, then worried about her other wives and their safety. Afterward, with many assurances from Cholena that Banda will be taken care of and Banda herself insisting they move in without her, sitting there in the van, Honoka retained one major regret: in all the rush and danger, she missed taking a video of the most delectable breast expansion experience she will probably ever see.
“You do know Cholena has cameras all over the dairy, right?” Diane casually pointed out, as if reading Honoka’s mind. “Even have a website, BostonDairyGirls.xxx.”
Yeeeeesss, Honoka thought, drooling. However, she screeched when Eve reached up and licked the spittle off her face. A goblin’s tongue was blue, thin and rough like a cat’s.
“This is a rental!” Diane yelled, looking furiously around. “There’s a hardware store. I'm buying some buckets with lids and trash bags, then we are going to play a game. Any cleanup we need to do in the van, Eve pays for.”
Eve’s red eyes narrowed but in a determined way. “Challenge accepted.”
A sixth sense tingled (another tingle, her penis remained all kinds of tingles) in Honoka’s spirit. “Gamer?”
“Gamer. My rig is in the trailer.” The goblin’s smile was fierce.
“FBB?”
“Is there another game?”
Honoka held up some knuckles and they bumped. Diane rolled her eyes and parked.
Apparently, despite enjoying occasionally having her holes filled, Eve was entirely into ladies. In her mind, it actually helped that Honoka identified as a woman, reminding the chocolate futanari of their first intimidate conversation and the importance of her answers. It made Honoka realize that despite putting up a joking front, her goblin wife was a person and Honoka needed to show sensitivity to her needs.
Regardless, after draping a tarp to cover most of the interior, some large construction trash bags within reach and three five-gallon (19 L) buckets on standby, Eve requested a complete girl on girl night after they unloaded their things in the dungeon.
“I don’t see why not.” Diane had returned to the driver’s seat and pulled into traffic. “I want to see if harmonization works when Honoka is allocated.”
Honoka was a passenger in all this. There remained at least another hour in traffic before they arrived at the Base, Eve had until then to get what she wanted. Sitting in the back set of seats, so long as they didn’t go too wild, the tinted windows should protect them.
“How do you want this?” Eve said, grinning her sharp fangs and sizing up the black rod in front of her.
“Being totally honest, I don’t want my dick in your mouth. No offense.”
“I hear you, I wouldn’t want my dick in my mouth either.” Thinking it over like an essay question, the goblin rubbed her hands together quickly to make them nice and warm. “And my boobs are not big enough for much. So I’m going to wank you off with a simple handjob, but you are not allowed to interfere. I’m going to see what edging does to you.”
Eyes widening, Honoka hyperventilated. Edging was not something the Beast appreciated. It usually responded with increased vigor to being toyed with. Gulping, she nodded and braced herself as she replied, “It's your cleaning bill.”
When Eve started, Diane connected her phone to the Bluetooth, Eye Of The Tiger coming on the speakers.
Eve’s technique was flawless. At first, her touch felt light and airy, barely feathering the turgid skin as she moved her hands up and down. Then, when precum sloshed down the black volcano, she put more pressure on but also moved slower. Every previous experience said Honoka would only last like this for five minutes, but fifteen passed before Honoka dug her fingers into the plastic and felt like there was no stopping the inevitable. Which is when the goblin clamped down on the base of her cock and squeezed, stopping all motion and waiting. Like standing on the top of a cliff with one foot over the air, Honoka slowly stepped metaphorically back and felt her muscles relax. Which is when the goblin started up again and gradually built her back towards climax.
This went on for over an hour. Pure torture. Honoka wasn’t even able to see straight, what she saw is that her poor cock was purple and angry over being put through so much abuse. Each time it was a shorter cycle to reach the almost point, in this hour going through the rollercoaster over a dozen times. Eve even yelled to Diane to assist with succubus effects at critical junctures and it helped short term. Right then, though, it looked like there was no stopping Old Faithful.
“Fire in the hole!” With one hand still clutching the base, feeling the beginnings of the first shot, the goblin nabbed one of the bags with her other hand and flung it over the top before letting go and moving a bucket underneath with her foot.
Honoka’s hips thrust upward and strained against the seatbelt, the safety locking in place. Honoka fought against the restraint as her body trembled with draining herself of cum. Vaguely, as if experiencing it for another person, Honoka felt the absolute volume being pushed out, creamy girlchowder painfully pushing her slit open wider to force more and more ejaculate through. Eve almost lost hold of the bag in the first few seconds, her nails digging in to keep it in place despite the pressure.
“Mostly spunk - though there is more testosterone in here than a Mr. Universe competition - but I also smell fermented honey, yeast, some sweet-smelling floral, cinnamon, grapes and lemons. The whole thing is a bit sharp, like ozone, so it is probably charged with a super amount of thaumian energy; more than a level twenty fireball, minimum.” Eve’s goblin nose was no joke, she picked all that out from only a few sniffs. Looking down, she quickly switched to the second bucket with only a little spillage, licking from a finger and swishing it around in her mouth. “There’s a little fermentation in there. I wonder what would happen to this stuff if we put it in a cask and properly brewed it. Tastes good, only a little bitterness but that just adds depth to the sweetness, like a good beer.”
“As you…eerrrgh!…said, too much magic,” Honoka gasped, finished with half a driplet into the bucket as she ran her finger along her urethra, the second bucket looking half full. After a few more huffs, Honoka relaxed and recovered a bit. “It is more likely to mutate into a splooge beast and then try to eat us. The only reason the sewers at my apartment aren’t glowing with eldritch energy and summoning up Azathoth is one of the pieces I installed was a thaumian scrubber.”
“Won’t that be a problem in the dungeon?” Eve asked, scraping off the excess from the bag and adding another gallon into the bucket.
“Dungeons eat magic,” Diane said from the front, the sunlight going out as they entered the tunnel down to Harvardtown. “They also share a bit of a symbiotic relationship with adventurers, so we might find our rooms spontaneously spawning coins or magical items as a way of saying thanks for the meal every time Honoka jacks it into a wall or something.”
Leaning forward, seeing two nearly full five-gallon buckets, Honoka shook her head as she tried to work out the numbers and grew worried with her results. “This time last week, I averaged around two gallons (7.6 L) a day, maybe. I’m probably somewhere past the fifteen (56.8 L) to twenty-gallon (75.7 L) mark so far today and I feel able to go two or three more times. This isn’t just a food intake thing, something is changing.”
That sobered everyone up, Eve putting lids on the buckets. When she finished, she helped Honoka dress just in time for them to park and begin the long process of lugging their things into the Lair.
When they called the other girls to give the news, Diane insisted on waiting until she arrived to document all the options before activating harmonization, saying they finished at Eve’s and were driving towards Norwell now. Eve stole the phone and said it was her turn next when the call cut off as it sounded like the two women fought over the device.
The succubus and goblin pair didn’t arrive until three. By then, Banda and Honoka stacked a few dozen boxes of things piled outside the house. The dairy was busiest in the morning and early evening to accommodate the holstaur women’s milking schedules, so few people were around when the black rental van pulled up with the moving trailer and they packed everything in minimal time.
Banda was so flushed and full of energy she looked like she could explode at any moment. Everyone understood. Once the trailer was loaded, they went to the main milking building and were led by the holstaur to one of the unassigned stations in the back.
“Remember, we don't know how many points you need,” Diane said, pulling a stool over from a neighboring stall. Because it was moving day, the ginger succubus filled out green leggings that matched her tail and wings and hid nothing, not even the fact she was going commando, as her camel proudly shouted to the world. These were paired with a cutoff black T showing some tantalizing underboob she ordered recently because it read I am the first woman to be baptized entirely in jizz and all I got was twelve percent! across her chest. “It might be a hundred points and we could have to spend between one and ten today just to exit the menu. This is exploratory first, understand?”
Banda nodded, trying but failing to temper her excitement. The holstaur girl attempted to patiently wait in the milking station and failed, the other women politely sitting on stools around her with understanding and loving grins.
Honoka winced, realizing if the points were too high, it would devastate her holstaur wife. Crossing her fingers, the Collector pulled up her Status with trepidation and selected the Unspent Harmony Points.
“Everything looks the same, no changes from last time,” Honoka said to the group, her eyes glazed as they looked at an invisible interface she alone saw. “Only, you know, giant naked Banda in my face this time.”
“Aww, I want to see naked Banda!” Eve quipped, reaching groping hands towards the blushing holstaur. The little green woman wore a goth style spaghetti tank top with razored tears in the fabric over a long-sleeved fishnet, black torn jeans with a studded belt on her short legs. Her fingernails were painted black and she wore black lipstick.
“Might not be a bad idea,” Diane said thoughtfully as she typed like a blitzkrieg into her phone. Eve’s grin turned predatory, Banda looking betrayed. “Whatever you select, it might cause physical changes and that would destroy clothing.”
Banda sighed, unbuttoning her shirt. “You are probably right. If a holstaur waits too long between milkings, her breasts can grow impossibly large. My cousin Heather once went for almost a week because of a camping trip. In the end, her boobs hung past her knees and she couldn't walk anymore.”
Honoka discretely wiped some drool from her chin, not knowing everyone locked their eyes in on her perverted leer, sharing a knowing look between themselves. “Anyway,” the black woman said as she adjusted herself in her seat to account for her sudden erection, “same four categories: Attributes, Body, Racial and Rectify. Moving to Rectify for now…”
The wait grew unbearable, but it wasn't long. With a smile, Honoka announced. “Found it. Lift Curse Of Unsuckled Young To Regain Connection To Milk Of The Taurines, nine points!”
Everyone cheered, everyone cried. Minutes passed as they celebrated while Banda flung off her clothing in record time. Diane remained the only voice of reason as she repeatedly told Honoka to not lock in the points yet, they needed to document Banda’s other options. The holstaur complained, gripping her breasts when she felt she was so close, but eventually became convinced of the long term benefits.
Honoka searched through the options, finding the Attribute and Body options almost identical to Diane’s menu. The Racial menu was as personal as would be expected, a whole subsection dedicated to improving the quality, quantity and unique magical add-ons to her milk. Increase Daily Output by 33%, four points. Increase Nutritional Value by 25%, four points. Gain Once A Day Power To Adjust Taste, eighteen points. Gain Healing Properties, twelve points. Gain Addictive Additives, five points.
Other interesting Racial entries included: Change Race to Celestial Taurine, forty-five points. Gain Shockwave Hoof Attack, fifteen points. Become Taurine (herdmaster) And Challenge Cretus For Place In Pantheon, two thousand and five hundred points. They also learned her temper could be cured (twenty points), her hooves possessed a defect making them more brittle (six points) and she had a small problem with her blood pressure (one point).
It took over an hour to list everything. Eve long ago grew bored and drove everyone nuts as she snuck around the stall, randomly poking her wives in increasingly compromising places.
The spacious dairy filled with people as afternoon milkings began, hundreds of holstaurs talking or lowing while they were drained. Someone had spotted the odd group because before they finished up, Aunt Cholena came over, actively having to shoo away nosy holstaurs and farmhands gossiping nearby.
The matron looked like she was ready for her own milking, wearing clothing identical to what Banda wore most of the day: buttoned red and white checkered long-sleeved shirt with rolled-up sleeves and knee-length jeans. Truth told, a lot of the holstaurs wore identical clothing, making it a kind of uniform around the diary. Practical and wholesale trumps fashion when it comes to expensive custom garments. The difference was two large damp spots on the thick wool of the shirt, though it didn't bother the matron because it was just her Racial reality.
As the older holstaur finally got prying ears far enough away, she beamed down at her niece and asked, “Well?”
“Its gonna happen!” Banda squealed, finding and gripping her aunt’s hand.
“It should start in a few seconds, actually,” Honoka said, focusing on confirming both the lifting of the curse and the blood pressure. “There.” With the menu out of her way, Honoka turned and bowed her head slightly to the matron. “In fact, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, none of the rest of us girls know how to work these pumps and we could use your help.”
“I’d be honored. Shouldn't…” Cholena trailed off as everyone looked towards the woman of the hour who was in trouble.
“Girls, I…aaah!…don't know what's…ooooooo!…going on.” In a matter of only a few seconds, Banda’s already immense boulders expanding outward around fifty percent in size, her skin quivering as it bloated visibly while everyone watched. A panicking Banda held them up as if trying to keep them from growing, but not even her massive thews were able to stop it. A loud stretching sound, like gripping a steering wheel too tightly, exploded in the stall as a burst of growth happened. In another ten seconds, their size doubled again and the expansion only grew faster. When they reached that size, as if a faucet spun open, Banda’s teats - which also swelled and looked like water balloons about to pop - gushed out high pressured cream and soaked everyone there as Banda groaned in orgasmic relief.
The experienced matron took over, snapping out orders while she rushed forward to stuff growing nipples into idle pumps. “Lift her out of the chair and above those tits, don't want her to suffocate if they grow any larger!”
The wives complied, barely able to tip the nearly insensate woman forward with some sloshing as her boobs continued to inflate with milk. In less than a minute, her breasts were each larger than Banda’s whole body, pushing the pumps off completely as her nipples outgrew the apparatuses and a flood of milk doused the increasingly smaller stall.
“What is happening?!” Honoka asked, looking for answers from Cholena as they all fled out of the stall. “How much does a holstaur usually produce a day?”
“Around thirty gallons (113.5 L) or more, depends on the girl,” Cholena muttered, eying the flood already arching over the stall walls and splashing all around them. “Not this much, though.”
“Um, Banda said holstaur breasts grew if they haven't been milked in a while,” Eve pointed out, mesmerized by the taut pink breasts growing to the point of pushing against the flimsy walls of the stall. “Status things sometimes act weird, so hasn't it been over five years since Banda’s been milked?”
“Sweet Christmas!” Diane pulled out her phone, wiping some droplets off the screen in futility as the entire area now rained milk. “Five years times three hundred and sixty-five days times thirty…55,000 gallons! (208197 L)”
“Minimum. It might be as much as 100k. Holstaurs can produce a lot of milk. Idiotic Status douchebaggery!” Decisively, the matron pulled out her phone and tapped it a few times, causing an air raid siren to wail outside. A few more taps and a PA system cracked to life and the older woman spoke into her phone to the entire building. “Emergency, immediate evacuation of Dairy One. Repeat, everyone drop everything and haul herd out of here. David, move your team over to stall 37G in quadrant four. Bring as many pumps as your guys can carry.”
Banda’s milkers now filled the stall from wall to wall, her nipples as large as someone’s thighs and pushing against the prefab walls. The rest of Banda’s body no longer touched the ground and twitched as she came again and again while being entirely supported in the air by her mountainous knockers. The milk spilling out of her measured in a localized monsoon level, the four women backing up to try and gain a breather from the creamy storm. With a deep groan, the walls burst apart, freeing the pink and veiny flesh as a new round of growth surged forward, knocking more stalls down in the boobalanche. The women ran, joining others who came out of their stalls in confusion, seeing the oncoming mammaries, screaming, and trying to escape being boobed to death.
“Are those tits?!” a burly minotaur said with a reddish coloring to his fur, wearing only a pair of jeans to present possibly the world’s most perfect male chest. His diet probably consisted of eating bodybuilders. Even with Honoka’s preferences, she admitted to admiring the chiseled work of art this Heracles presented. He carried one of the massive pumps with one hand as if it was a lunchbox. Behind him followed six other minotaurs of not quite as impressive builds but all equally hunky in their own ways, each also casually carrying the five hundred pounds (226.8 kg) of machinery.
“Mind out of your pants, David, need you boys to drain those puppies,” Cholena said, sloshing out as much of the milk soaked into the fur on her face as she could. All the girls were covered in cream and now that they gained some distance, they tried to wring themselves out.
David looked at the nipples that were now the size of an adult and sitting ten feet (3 m) off the ground, down at the pump that fit in his hand and then back again. “You’re gonna need a bigger boat.”
“I pay you by the gallon, don’t I?!” Cholena stated emphatically, waving her hands at Banda. “Sooner you save my dairy from collapsing, sooner you boys can pay for new trucks with cash! Figure it out!”
Capitalism for the win, David and his team no longer hesitated as they charged into the milk tsunami. Honoka worried about Banda, so the wives followed Cholena around the edge of the dairy until they spotted her propped up almost twenty feet (6.1 m) into the air and looking unconscious but otherwise ok.
Overlooking the damage done to her dairy and pursing her lips as she noted both the slower expansion of breasts and minotaurs standing on each others’ shoulders to place pumps directly into the milk ducts, Cholena turned around and clapped her hands.
“Who wants dinner?”
********************
After a quick hose-shower to go from drenched in milk to just drenched, the most surprising thing to Honoka - even more than super boobs - was that dinner consisted of hamburgers. Cholena laughed, saying the joke never got old and ate hers with grilled onions and steak sauce. Honoka shrugged it off as just one more weird thing and enjoyed hers with mustard and green peppers.
In the end, Banda’s breasts grew to roughly the size of forty feet (12.2 m) in diameter each and mostly retained a squashed spheroid shape until they pressed up against the thirty-foot ceiling and compressed downward by the steel beam rafters. Dozens of stalls were flattened but most of the damage, Cholena assured the wives, was superficial. Areola fifteen feet (4.6 m) wide, nipples seven feet (2.1 m) thick and twelve feet (3.7 m) long, David brought in as many farmhands as he was able to gather, running hoses into twenty pumps per breast. They had built scaffolding, ladders climbing up Mount Tits. Working like men possessed, running fifty-five-gallon (208.2 L) drums from the pumps in and out constantly, the dairy was a massive hive of activity.
“How long do you think it will take until Banda’s down to manageable levels?” Diane asked, snapping some pics on her phone as they all stood out of the way of the minotaur farmhands.
“It is math at this point,” Cholena stated, accepting a datapad from a helpful human Native American girl. “There is a lot of spillage. With breasts those size, forty pumps chugging a constant two gallons (7.6 L) a minute each, sometime late tomorrow or early the next day is when we’ll finish. Banda’s not getting any sleep, but neither is anyone else.”
“I hope I don’t sound Internet Ignorant,” Honoka stated without confidence, just curiosity, “I’ve only been reading about dairy farming since yesterday, but I thought milk pumps needed to run at least half that speed to prevent damaging the milk.”
“Good of you to research on your wife’s family business,” the matron said with a smile. “Yes, if we milked cows using a traditional AMS, then the ratio is around three gallons (11.3 L) every five minutes. Most systems then put the raw milk through a separator to extract the cream from the milk. Holstaur milk is preferred raw by our Racial customers, so no need to separate. It is actually more stable and robust than cow milk, the consistency of the protein molecules similarly in line with goat’s milk. Holstaur women are also more robust: a little aggressive suction feels really good.” She chuckled at the bashful look Honoka gave the older woman. “So no separators or filters, our pumps are really just glorified vacuums and those drums are stacked in temperature-controlled trucks, then shipped from anywhere between here and St Louis.”
“Sorry to take up so much of your manpower,” Honoka apologies.
“Don’t be, our milk maintains a higher demand than supply, we are going to make a killing this quarter. And because all my girls are paid by the gallon, Banda’s receiving a check this month in the tens of thousands.” The matriarch took a two-way radio off her belt and spoke into it. “You doing ok up there, Littlefoot?”
“Peaches and cream, Aunt Cholena,” came Banda’s voice from the other end. Although the expanded holstaur couldn't turn around, they all saw her wave in their vague direction.
“Oh, I love that movie!” Diane tittered as the older holstaur handed the radio to Honoka.
“Are you hungry, do you need anything?” Honoka asked after fumbling to hit the right switch.
“Nope, still…full…from lunch.”
The embarrassment was heard clearly even over the radio. It didn't help that the mountains of boobs appeared to darken in a body blush, an impressive sight, like dusk over a sea of tits. Everyone turned to Honoka as the black woman smiled devilishly.
“Are you sure? If you want seconds, I might—”
“Nope!” The radio squawked with feedback. Banda’s nervous squeak was faintly heard from across the building. “I'm good!”
Everyone had a good laugh. “Well, then we’ll head out,” Honoka said after she calmed her chuckling down. “We’ll be by tomorrow, but call us if there’s anything we can do. Loves you!”
A chorus of loves and loves you went around with kissing sounds before Honoka handed the radio back. Cholena hooked her radio on her belt and bent down to give Honoka an affectionate hug.
“Call my number instead of Banda’s, her phone is buried under the Rock Of Gilboobie.”
Diane pointed at her phone and did a thumbs up to assure Honoka the succubus saved the number. The wives said their goodbyes and went back to the van. Diane drove, Honoka in the back with Eve. The goblin girl sat well within the black woman’s personal bubble, smiling up with a feral grin.
“Y-yes?” Married she might be, but personal space remained something Honoka needed to adjust to being invaded.
“Now that Banda’s taken care of, there’s still a wife in need of attention.” Eve reached one of her clawed hands under Honoka’s damp blouse and moved upwards.
“Pfft!” Diane pffted, checking her map app on her phone before turning left. “I muffchugged you three times last night then induced you into a cuma with a dildo larger than Honoka’s BBC.”
“Well, I'm all hot and aching from seeing the largest bazoongas in the world and we are going to sit in this van for ninety minutes. With normal levels of traffic, downtown will be a parking lot.” Eve was able to work her way under Honoka’s bra and lightly scratched stiff nipples, forcing a muffled moan out of the pent up woman.
The chocolate futa admitted she nearly burst when watching Banda explode like that. At the time, she worried most about the holstaur’s safety, then if Banda was alright, then worried about her other wives and their safety. Afterward, with many assurances from Cholena that Banda will be taken care of and Banda herself insisting they move in without her, sitting there in the van, Honoka retained one major regret: in all the rush and danger, she missed taking a video of the most delectable breast expansion experience she will probably ever see.
“You do know Cholena has cameras all over the dairy, right?” Diane casually pointed out, as if reading Honoka’s mind. “Even have a website, BostonDairyGirls.xxx.”
Yeeeeesss, Honoka thought, drooling. However, she screeched when Eve reached up and licked the spittle off her face. A goblin’s tongue was blue, thin and rough like a cat’s.
“This is a rental!” Diane yelled, looking furiously around. “There’s a hardware store. I'm buying some buckets with lids and trash bags, then we are going to play a game. Any cleanup we need to do in the van, Eve pays for.”
Eve’s red eyes narrowed but in a determined way. “Challenge accepted.”
A sixth sense tingled (another tingle, her penis remained all kinds of tingles) in Honoka’s spirit. “Gamer?”
“Gamer. My rig is in the trailer.” The goblin’s smile was fierce.
“FBB?”
“Is there another game?”
Honoka held up some knuckles and they bumped. Diane rolled her eyes and parked.
Apparently, despite enjoying occasionally having her holes filled, Eve was entirely into ladies. In her mind, it actually helped that Honoka identified as a woman, reminding the chocolate futanari of their first intimidate conversation and the importance of her answers. It made Honoka realize that despite putting up a joking front, her goblin wife was a person and Honoka needed to show sensitivity to her needs.
Regardless, after draping a tarp to cover most of the interior, some large construction trash bags within reach and three five-gallon (19 L) buckets on standby, Eve requested a complete girl on girl night after they unloaded their things in the dungeon.
“I don’t see why not.” Diane had returned to the driver’s seat and pulled into traffic. “I want to see if harmonization works when Honoka is allocated.”
Honoka was a passenger in all this. There remained at least another hour in traffic before they arrived at the Base, Eve had until then to get what she wanted. Sitting in the back set of seats, so long as they didn’t go too wild, the tinted windows should protect them.
“How do you want this?” Eve said, grinning her sharp fangs and sizing up the black rod in front of her.
“Being totally honest, I don’t want my dick in your mouth. No offense.”
“I hear you, I wouldn’t want my dick in my mouth either.” Thinking it over like an essay question, the goblin rubbed her hands together quickly to make them nice and warm. “And my boobs are not big enough for much. So I’m going to wank you off with a simple handjob, but you are not allowed to interfere. I’m going to see what edging does to you.”
Eyes widening, Honoka hyperventilated. Edging was not something the Beast appreciated. It usually responded with increased vigor to being toyed with. Gulping, she nodded and braced herself as she replied, “It's your cleaning bill.”
When Eve started, Diane connected her phone to the Bluetooth, Eye Of The Tiger coming on the speakers.
Eve’s technique was flawless. At first, her touch felt light and airy, barely feathering the turgid skin as she moved her hands up and down. Then, when precum sloshed down the black volcano, she put more pressure on but also moved slower. Every previous experience said Honoka would only last like this for five minutes, but fifteen passed before Honoka dug her fingers into the plastic and felt like there was no stopping the inevitable. Which is when the goblin clamped down on the base of her cock and squeezed, stopping all motion and waiting. Like standing on the top of a cliff with one foot over the air, Honoka slowly stepped metaphorically back and felt her muscles relax. Which is when the goblin started up again and gradually built her back towards climax.
This went on for over an hour. Pure torture. Honoka wasn’t even able to see straight, what she saw is that her poor cock was purple and angry over being put through so much abuse. Each time it was a shorter cycle to reach the almost point, in this hour going through the rollercoaster over a dozen times. Eve even yelled to Diane to assist with succubus effects at critical junctures and it helped short term. Right then, though, it looked like there was no stopping Old Faithful.
“Fire in the hole!” With one hand still clutching the base, feeling the beginnings of the first shot, the goblin nabbed one of the bags with her other hand and flung it over the top before letting go and moving a bucket underneath with her foot.
Honoka’s hips thrust upward and strained against the seatbelt, the safety locking in place. Honoka fought against the restraint as her body trembled with draining herself of cum. Vaguely, as if experiencing it for another person, Honoka felt the absolute volume being pushed out, creamy girlchowder painfully pushing her slit open wider to force more and more ejaculate through. Eve almost lost hold of the bag in the first few seconds, her nails digging in to keep it in place despite the pressure.
“Mostly spunk - though there is more testosterone in here than a Mr. Universe competition - but I also smell fermented honey, yeast, some sweet-smelling floral, cinnamon, grapes and lemons. The whole thing is a bit sharp, like ozone, so it is probably charged with a super amount of thaumian energy; more than a level twenty fireball, minimum.” Eve’s goblin nose was no joke, she picked all that out from only a few sniffs. Looking down, she quickly switched to the second bucket with only a little spillage, licking from a finger and swishing it around in her mouth. “There’s a little fermentation in there. I wonder what would happen to this stuff if we put it in a cask and properly brewed it. Tastes good, only a little bitterness but that just adds depth to the sweetness, like a good beer.”
“As you…eerrrgh!…said, too much magic,” Honoka gasped, finished with half a driplet into the bucket as she ran her finger along her urethra, the second bucket looking half full. After a few more huffs, Honoka relaxed and recovered a bit. “It is more likely to mutate into a splooge beast and then try to eat us. The only reason the sewers at my apartment aren’t glowing with eldritch energy and summoning up Azathoth is one of the pieces I installed was a thaumian scrubber.”
“Won’t that be a problem in the dungeon?” Eve asked, scraping off the excess from the bag and adding another gallon into the bucket.
“Dungeons eat magic,” Diane said from the front, the sunlight going out as they entered the tunnel down to Harvardtown. “They also share a bit of a symbiotic relationship with adventurers, so we might find our rooms spontaneously spawning coins or magical items as a way of saying thanks for the meal every time Honoka jacks it into a wall or something.”
Leaning forward, seeing two nearly full five-gallon buckets, Honoka shook her head as she tried to work out the numbers and grew worried with her results. “This time last week, I averaged around two gallons (7.6 L) a day, maybe. I’m probably somewhere past the fifteen (56.8 L) to twenty-gallon (75.7 L) mark so far today and I feel able to go two or three more times. This isn’t just a food intake thing, something is changing.”
That sobered everyone up, Eve putting lids on the buckets. When she finished, she helped Honoka dress just in time for them to park and begin the long process of lugging their things into the Lair.
