After Miaka left at four o’clock, Honoka was led away to the front of the complex by Banda. It surprised the architect how quickly the line of buildings adjacent to the street turned into the center of business for the family. The main entrance went into the storefront, a small shop with a door next to a large display window. Inside, shelves lined the wall, stocked with dozens of vials colored in a rainbow of hues, handwritten prices underneath. Resting on the floor beneath the shelves were ten-gallon canisters of milk, wisps of cold air wafting off of shimmering blue runes. Along the back wall were a long counter and register in front of a door leading to the back rooms. Banda stated with some impressed pride that Jaya had been womaning the store for two days. They were already getting steady customers.
“Isn’t Jaya a bit young?” Honoka asked when they went through the door in the back, entering a small space holding beakers, bottles and burners of all sizes, space obviously meant for Diane’s alchemy lab. Banda turned left and walked through a second door into a large, open room.
“There’s a camera, which Pad watches religiously every second Jaya works, slithering back and forth like a nervous hen in the courtyard,” Banda explained, walking to the center of the room, office partitions enclosing Banda’s milking station with a setup identical to one of the stalls at the Boston Dairy. “Not only was it Pad’s idea, as she explained to me, but there isn’t a single person stupid enough in the Lair to mess with a naga, no matter her age. On top of it all, if anything does happen, momma snake is seconds away and will rain down righteous judgment on the wicked.”
Honoka remembered that venom from her own allocation and vividly recounted the long fangs whenever the little girl opened her mouth for a yawn. It didn’t do much to alleviate her fears - promising herself she would spend time in the shop to help whenever time allowed - but the young woman knew there was no more exceptional teacher than experience. Her father, Douglass Jefferson, employed a tiny Honoka on his construction sites when she was ten years old, wearing a hardhat and carrying tools or water to workers for hours on end. It taught her the importance of work. Honoka admitted to herself, a lot of her character had been built by the usually quiet man handing her an extension cord, telling her where to plug it in and run to which piece of equipment.
“I guess I can understand,” Honoka said vaguely, undoing her obi and slipping out of her kimono, setting them far out of the way, now garbed in only a white bra and panties. Rubbing her hands together, she looked a little lost to what she should be doing.
“Give me a second, I’ll explain everything you need to know.” Banda kept her toga on, instead pushed the sides of the loose fabric over her chest inward and exposing her thick, turgid teats, each nipple already dripping a little with creamy goodness.
Straddling over what resembled a weird barber’s chair, the holstaur rode it like a street bike. Banda’s abdomen lay flat against it and tilted up at an angle, the breasts suspended over air and drooping downward with a bar in front for Banda’s arms to hold or rest on, her hooves bent at the knee and situated without any weight on the floor. There was a foot pump near the base. With one hoof, she tapped it and lowered the chair down until her naked rear and exposed fat camel hovered at the perfect height for Honoka standing immediately nearby. The sight, of course, caused the black woman to harden, blood filling her cock to a semi-state in seconds.
“The process is uncomplicated,” Banda said, reaching over to one of the pumps and showing it to Honoka. “Monotonous, but not complex. Once the machine is on, you place this cup firmly over the teat, as tight to the areola as you can, then turn this valve.” Her thumb pointed to a black piece of metal with an arrow on it. “Once those are on both teats, the machine does most of the work. When one of the ten-gallon (37.8 L) pails is full, a beeping will go off. Hit the flashing button, pull out the pail and replace it, then hit the same button, causing a green light.”
“The light is green, the trap is clean,” Honoka said without sequitur. There were two empty pails locked into the machine, so it seemed simple enough. Honoka’s feeble body might not be enough to move those cylinders, already thinking about allocating some Strength if needed.
Banda continued, adjusting herself in the seat for a more comfortable ride, “When we near the end, I’m going to ask you to help knead my breasts until they’re empty. Don’t be gentle, you’re gonna need to really squeeze them dry.”
“Understood,” Honoka said, studying the buttons on the pumps and trying to fit the explanation to which switches were which. “Anything else?”
“Yes. Two things, actually.” Banda hesitated, blushing as she fidgeted with the pump in her hand. “I found a new blessing for my Class, I hoped to try it out today. It is supposed to increase my output. Also,” the holstaur quickly passed over that tidbit of information before Honoka responded, “I’m told by my aunt and sisters that sex can increase how much I lactate. Not as much as actually getting pregnant, but still a significant amount.”
“What you’re really saying,” Honoka said slowly, picking up a pair of C&A potions off a table in the corner and rubbing them together in her hand, “is getting you pregnant would increase your milk production?”
Banda looked at the potions and licked her lips. “By a lot.”
“By a lot,” Honoka repeated slowly like she tasted each word, weighing the potions in her hand and wondering at the possibilities as her cock became fully erect. Finally, after a minute of playing with the temptation, Honoka popped the caps and helped feed them to Banda, both women a little disappointed. “It wouldn’t be fair to Diane.”
“I know,” Banda whispered, her face scrunching at the awful taste and scraping her tongue on her teeth to get the ick off faster. Shaking her head, she set the pump down and began mumbling, both her hands shining with white light. However, unlike the blessing she previously gave twice to Honoka, she kept mumbling gibberish for five minutes, each minute the light growing more intense. With a flash, the brightness transferred into Banda’s breasts. It was surreal, the illumination making her massive juggs translucent and outlining every blood vessel, fatty tissue and swollen milk ducts before fading. Once the light faded, though, Banda’s eyes immediately widened. She gripped the bar in front of her tightly and thrust her chest out as much as the chair allowed. When she loudly lowed combined with a few body convolutions, thick streams of milk shot out of her nipples.
“Oh, crap!” Honoka quickly turned on the pumps and knelt to the ground, drenching herself with boob fluids but sealing the cups and pumping when she turned the valves. The amount of suction looked intense, and it wasn’t thirty seconds before Banda shuddered in orgasm from the machines milking her. Erect and wanting to operate the Super Speedy Milky Squeezy 6000, Honoka stepped around to the back of the chair and didn’t waste any time with foreplay, ramming herself between those fat and swollen labia, finding a wet cavern already waiting for her inside.
*beep beep beep*
The black hermaphrodite felt like she only got two schwings in before one of the lights flashed, though her rational mind told her she had been drilling oil for at least four minutes. Pulling out, she allocated three Strength from Diane and three from Quinn, bulking herself up to the level of an average human who visited the gym sometimes. Hastily pressing the right buttons, she changed the pail and plunged back inside her wife.
*beep beep beep*
“Grrrr!” This time it really was only a couple of slaps against those cheeks, but milking waited for no woman. Honoka pulled out and got ‘r done, sweating as she rounded the chair and went back inside. “How’re you doing over there?” Honoka asked as she frantically packed fudge.
“...third orgasm...almost...ooooOOH!...” Banda shuddered and clenched down on Honoka, panting as she tried to recover. “...fourth...”
*beep beep beep*
Honoka whacked her hands down hard on both of Banda’s sculpted glutes in frustration, causing the holstaur to moo in her fifth and pulled out to work. Which is when math reared its ugly head in her mind, pausing to think and add things up.
“How much does a holstaur usually produce a day?”
“Around thirty gallons (113.5 L) or more, depends on the girl.”
That was what Cholena said about holstaurs. When Honoka asked what Banda’s standard amount was this morning, she learned Banda was apparently a productive lady, the answer between fifty and fifty-five gallons (189.2 - 208.2 L) a day spread over two milkings. Admittedly, there weren’t many data points to paint a complete picture at this point. Morning milkings went to Honoka’s breakfast, the rest went up for sale. This was the third ten-gallon container, and the fourth was filling up fast. Spinning around, Honoka discovered a bit of an emergency.
“…this might have…uuh!…six…been a bad idea…” Despite her words, Banda drooled as she hugged her moneymakers, each resting entirely on the floor and expanding steadily. That enlargement included her sopping teats, each filling the plastic pumping cups past capacity. As Honoka watched, those turgid nip-nops pushed the caps upward to fit like tight hats instead of on the areola. Milk spilled everywhere at this point, the hoses incapable of keeping up with the volume of white cream spurting out of the seals and all over the stall.
“What do I do?!” Honoka asked in a panic, frozen with too many problems stacking up.
“…I…I…seven…first, switch the pail…problems if the pump stops…” Banda had trouble thinking, but she possessed all the answers at this point and realized it. Honoka fetched the containers and switched them as the holstaur recovered her breath to finish. “…then I need water and oats…in corner, next to empty pails…HAAA!…eight…”
Honoka held up to grab another six Strength and all the Endurance, but fell to her knees before she allocated. The mother of all headaches bloomed inside Honoka’s cranium to crippling levels. It appeared she had reached her limit, white bursts of agony behind her eyes, Honoka pausing to breathe the pain away. Nearby, the blasted beeping went off again, Banda’s loud ecstasy forced the suffering Ymirian moving, first to change the last container next to the pump and then to stumble towards the indicated corner.
A pallet of eighty-pound feed bags was stacked next to a hose. Along the wall, ten empty pails and two fifty-gallon (189.2 L) drums with the same handy cooling rune on them were lined up. Regretting not bringing her phone, Honoka decided the machine came first, then the food. Honoka lugged four pails over to the station, changing out the next container. Going back for the oats, Honoka groaned and grunted to moved the bag, making sure to bring the handy metal scoop she found nearby. The small woman lacked enough muscle to actually lift the bag, so it got slowly dragged, a panting Honoka stopping in the middle to change out the next pail.
When she finally pulled it over and opened it, Banda’s expansion looked finished. Finished, but different problems came to the fore. Banda was a big girl, wearing a mammoth 73T bra most days. Her weight in breasts alone was generally around a hundred and fifty pounds (68 kg). Only her Racial Features and Strength allowed her to move her body with any degree of freedom.
Right now, conservatively, Banda’s mammaries were a taut and sloshing forty inches (102 cm) diameter each and weighed in the combined vicinity of 3000 lbs (1361 kg). The holstaur woman retained enough presence of mind to raise the chair up another foot off the floor to make room, though the stall became mostly boobs at this point. Obviously nowhere near the Tits of Doom she experienced earlier this week, this was still a lot of milk, most of it spraying torrentially.
Honoka scooped a pound of oats and brought it over, using a stool she found in a corner, holding her other hand in front of her face to see through the white monsoon, tipping it in Banda’s eager mouth and then going back for more. The process went quickly because Banda wasn’t even chewing, just dry-gulping the food into her stomach as fast as possible, half the bag gone before Honoka needed to change the next pail. Going back to the corner, she transported the last six jugs and the hose, sticking the running water in Banda’s mouth before going back for a drum, changing a pail, and getting her daily workout lifting full containers to the height of her non-existent chest and emptying five into one of the drums.
Desperately wanting to stop as she heaved heavy breaths into her tired body, more beeping brought her out of it. There was nothing to it. Honoka changed the pail then fed Banda the rest of the bag of feed, changed the next pail, fetched the second drum, changed the pail, emptied the full containers into the last drum, changed the pail. It went on in a daze, seven more jugs filled before Honoka gained a bit of a second wind and caught up, earning a moment to relax. Which, looking over at tits liberally soaked in warm milk, got her moving to stick her penis between the fleshy globes as she fell bodily into them.
“Oh! Oh yes! Nineteeeeen!” Banda was an absolute animal if she hit those numbers, yet Honoka’s frustrations boiled to the surface. These warm breast felt heavenly, their own weight pressing them tightly enough together to give Honoka something to work with, but it was like having sex with a mattress. It was possible, that wasn’t the problem; rather, Honoka was out of energy. All the chocolate futa-girl wanted was to just lay in those cushions and go to sleep. Fortunately, her previous efforts in Banda’s pussy stimulated enough that the ever-hungry Beast only needed a little pushin’ inside the cushions to erupt.
Honoka squealed, tightening her arms to bring Banda’s breasts closer together and causing the entire collection of tits to shiver in yet another orgasm as Honoka’s stream shot through the fleshy wall and mixed with the milk on the floor to add to the flood. More beeping happened: however, it wasn’t like Honoka could stop, so she rode it out, which was a mistake in hindsight.
A second beeping followed on top of the first, then when Honoka found herself shuddering and going soft, a loud crack filled the room, causing the black woman to roll herself around for a clear view. One of the pumps popped off when the milk flooded into the stopped lines, but the other shattered when the pressure proved too much. Both tits sprayed freely like monumental mammary sprinklers.
Honoka couldn’t come up with a better solution, so she climbed down the mountain and plopped a buttery nipple into her mouth, sucking for all she was worth.
Previous to this moment, the Ymirian thought she liked fresh holstaur milk, but there was something better and fresher. Hot lactation filling her stomach, mouth to tit-nozzle, was ambrosia. Off the teat had a stronger magical charge to it because it felt like she drank electricity. Her Racial capacity to ingest food went into high gear, Honoka finding herself pulling in milk at five times the suction of the pumps, absolutely savaging Banda’s nipple. The bovine girl cried out her appreciation and tried to press her massive arms as tight as she was capable down onto her breasts, squeezing more milk into her thirsty wife. The thaumian content of the cow cream showed in Honoka’s expanding waistline, only taking less than a minute to balloon her so large she rested on her bloated belly and surfed the growth while her mouth continued to drink from the River Wild.
It took twenty minutes, but Banda now appeared lopsided. One breast was back to its standard size and drained dry while the other remained the size of a clown car. Honoka’s tummy had grown as large as a shed. The bloating woman could not move her own body, so Banda stood on shaky legs and used mighty thews to maneuver her teat into Honoka’s greedy mouth. Fifteen minutes later, Honoka was upside down, hanging bodily midair from her inflated abdomen like a balloon connected to a tank of helium, her largeness directed towards the empty space but still pressing tightly into the fifteen-foot ceiling. Both women vaguely worried about the building’s structural integrity as her black stomach, lacking anywhere else to go, kept bloating closer and closer to the wall.
“Are you gals done yet because I AAAHH!!” Eve strolled into the backroom and actually ran into a growing tummy, falling to the ground and scrambling out of the way of being crushed. “Dang it! How’s a girl supposed to reach the High Score if she has to deal with this?”
“Sorry!” Honoka cried. On the plus side, all this milk cured her headache. Also, boosting her Endurance was combating the growth and shrinking her down in record time. “I’ll tell you what, this was a terrific first day for everyone, the rest of it is for you!”
“You are going to regret that!” the little green goblin taunted back, running out the room before either wife there said anything else.
“I wanted her to fetch some towels,” Honoka lamented. Banda chuckled and stumbled her way over to the pallet of grains and ripped another open, using the scoop like a spoon and going to town, occasionally washing everything down with the water hose. In the end, the large woman went through two more bags and looked like she was about to pop from her own food baby, groaning on the wet stone as she massaged her tits under the soaked white toga.
“Note to self,” Banda said ten minutes later, looking like the victim of the world’s worst hangover as she tried to sit up and failed. “That blessing is a menace and should be used only sparingly. I can’t swallow another bite, yet I feel like I haven’t eaten a meal in days. I just can’t process food like you.”
“Good to know, let’s look into finding a magical meal bar or alchemical nutrition smoothie.” Honoka didn’t like being upside down, all the blood rushed to her head, and she felt nauseous. Considering what vomiting might mean for her, she spent all her energy keeping from reversing the flow as she shrank back to a manageable level.
Banda laughed, then groaned while she held her swollen stomach. “Not yes, Banda, we shouldn’t ever do that again, but instead, this is going to happen weekly or daily, so we better find a way to make it work.”
“I have a thing for growing breasts, your milk is some of the best stuff I’ve ever tasted, I think you are one sexy lady and if we can increase how much milk you produce it cuts down my food costs and increases the family revenue.” Honoka quickly checked and smiled when she announced the news. “Not only that, 51% increase in harmonization. Congratulations, you are now a level five Cleric after only one day and a few blessings.”
“Woah,” Banda replied in a Keanu-ish fashion like she just found out she knew kung-fu. “I’ll talk to Diane, see what she can brew up.” Clopping to her feet, Banda made her way around the shrinking tummy boulder and headed out the door. “I’ll fetch some towels and a change of clothes, don’t want to ruin that silk robe of yours.”
“Kimono,” Honoka replied. The holstaur smiled and waved as she walked out, leaving Honoka alone to shrink.
It didn’t take long, the chocolate woman only appearing pregnant by the time Banda came back, using the hose to wash then the towels to dry. Banda decided to stay in her white robes, saying she would soak in the Big Bath after this. Judging herself the world champion of wet t-shirt contests, the busty holstaur also wrapped a beach towel around her chest. Honoka took a little time to dry off then put on men's sized tan cargo shorts commando and a peach spaghetti tank with a blond video game princess who may or may not be in another castle printed on the front, her nips announcing she was also braless. They walked out together and were surprised to see the store open for the evening and Jaya womaning the register.
“Hi, Honoka mom, Banda mom!” Jaya said with enthusiasm and a wave before returning to ringing up a tiger man in full plate armor for his handful of potions. “All finished milking? Because we just ran out.”
“You got more milk in stock?” The voice that echoed from outside wasn’t so much loud as it encompassed the street and store. A massive, purple-skinned giant in a chain mail loincloth and carrying a club the size of a bus - even laying down in the street to look in through the windows - he was at least sixty-feet tall. Other customers leaned their heads away from the big sound, yet it seemed like half a dozen more people perked up and walked off the street to come inside, the promise of more milk bringing all the boys (and girls) to the yard.
Honoka was shocked, stunned speechless. The Ymirian knew she drank a lot of milk, probably polishing off a hundred and fifty gallons (567.8 L) in the last hour, but she considered herself abnormal. Performing the calculations, they possessed about two hundred gallons (757 L) in the back. Banda, however, looked like her child performed Mozart at a concert hall, all the other parents crowding to complimenting her.
“Hundreds of gallons, fresh off the…it’s fresh!” Banda ran into the back with loud clops. The room actually filled with cheers. The giant outside also cheered, but in a subdued whisper. The people instantly formed a line and Honoka hopped behind the counter to help.
“You write down the order in the book because Banda mom’s aunt gets some of the money, I think so we can use the magic metal thingies.” Jaya was adorable as she spoke. It looked like she gained a fanclub too, customers patiently waited for her to train Honoka. “Then the jugs are under the counter and you give out how many they need to fill up what they bought. Right now, the sizes are one and five gallons, but Diane mom says she’s ordering larger ones next week. If someone brings back their jugs to reuse them, I give them a discount. Once they have the jugs, they fill it themselves from the metal spigot thingies and I watch them, but everyone’s been so nice and there haven’t been any problems.”
Honoka didn’t think it was complicated, but as Banda brought in the first fifty-gallon (189.2 L) drum, business boomed. Phones got involved, soon enough there was a line out the door as the entire Lair received word of fresh milk. The purple giant bought a whole drum himself and drank it there like it was a soda pop, his cries of satisfaction echoing throughout the entire cavern before he set the canister outside and stomped away. It didn’t take a half-hour to sell their stock and turn some disappointed people away with the promise of more milk tomorrow.
Honoka’s eyes lit up as she looked over the book. For less than two hours worth of work, a hundred and ninety-two gallons (726.8 L) sold, before the cut to Cholena, it still added up to sixty gold coins or three thousand dollars gross. The register looked like it needed to be emptied. Taking a silent moment to enjoy the wealth, the three girls unabashedly basked in the greed.
“Yeah, definitely getting those meal bars,” Banda said after Jaya closed the register and returned to work selling potions. “Also, ought to call my aunt and see about finding larger pumps.”
“Might require to move everything into one of the rooms downstairs,” Honoka mused, leading the two outside into the courtyard to cross towards their rooms. “I don’t want to find out which will break first: growing breasts and bellies or ceilings and walls.”
“Point.” Banda leaned down and sloppily kissed Honoka, who returned the favor. “Have fun with Eve.”
Honoka smiled nervously. “I hope so? I might be scared.”
“The little monster is a masochist, not a sadist.” Banda hesitated before the door to the Big Bath. “Not much of a sadist. It should be fine.”
Honoka chuckled, though she took her time walking back to her rooms.
********************
“I don’t see any problem here.”
Eve said this with all seriousness, dressed in what Honoka would describe as a complicated weave of thin red leather strips emphasizing her otherwise naked body instead of covering it, spread eagle on the bed and tied down like she was a buck on the hood of a car with ratcheting cargo straps. Honoka, standing on the side of the bed, was similarly dressed in black fetish leathers, her masculine styled outfit accounting for her black cock. The uncomfortable half-asian wife held a cat ‘o nine tails whip in one hand, wondering how her life took a turn towards Zardoz without her realizing it.
“I’m just not comfortable doing this,” Honoka said honestly, lamely fiddling with the whip.
“Then, we don’t do it,” Eve replied simply, easing a lot of pressure off Honoka’s shoulders. “Rule number one of any bondage or sadomasochism is both parties need to be into it.” The goblin rotated her wrist to grab the quick release of the ratchets but Honoka reached out her hand, stopping Eve.
“It isn’t…I don’t…” The black woman lacked the right words and tried to convey everything with a pleading look.
“You don’t understand how someone can find any sexual enjoyment out of torture and inflicting pain on a loved one makes you physically ill.”
“Yahtzee! That.” Honoka smiled as she sat on the bed and booped Eve’s enormous nose.
“I’m with you, sister: pain sucks.” Eve appeared very relaxed being tied to the bed, the entire thing absurd as the greenie calmly spoke with that metallic rasp to her voice. “I’d forgotten how much pain hurts until you allocated me. I think any time you put me in a human body, I am going to freak out about stubbing my toe. Which is my point. I no longer feel pain. In fact, it’s the opposite.”
“But I can still hurt you,” Honoka said, setting the whip down and folding her hands together.
“The most potent healing potion Diane can make is on the nightstand, including gauze and saline. Quinn is in the commons room watching those sappy romcoms she likes and can rush in here if there’s any trouble. Either one of us says ‘lollipop,’ we immediately stop. Today is a simple training exercise, nothing extreme like choking, wax play or shock therapy. And most importantly, unless you want me to, this is all one-sided: you are not going to get a single scratch.”
Honoka thought about it, thought about it some more as the minutes ticked by. It was ridiculous, causing her to smile at nothing as she studied the tied up and leathered goblin woman patiently waiting for her wife to make a decision. That trust, more than anything, is what decided it for her. Honoka had been a goblin and knew they mirrored the attention span of a media news cycle. For Eve to calmly wait must require enormous amounts of willpower and monumental trust. Honoka also understood, rationally, that this would drive the little green woman wild with pleasure: Honoka might be the only non-goblin to experience this first hand.
“Ok, how do you want this?” Honoka asked, kneeling on the bed and picking the whip back up.
“Fast and hard, like I want most things,” Eve replied, smiling her fanged smile. “That kind of whip works best with a circular motion from the wrists, gives it that extra little flick.”
Rolling her wrists experimentally, Honoka felt a wave of dizziness that sent her partially onto the bed. Wondering what was wrong, Honoka discovered a surprise when she realized she’d been allocated all this time. Six points of Strength and six points of Endurance, from when she milked Banda earlier. Usually, not a big deal, the drain on her MP minuscule for so little a change, but it had been maintained for hours, Honoka’s MP already low from the romp with Diane earlier. 4% was her current reading and it made the situation…not dire, though definitely urgent. If it went down much lower, she’d probably pass out.
“Hold up, need to refresh my MP.” The futa-girl kept the allocations on, knowing the next couple of hours with Eve would physically tax her and she’d probably want the Class assist. She grabbed two powerful MP potions from the cabinet and popped them both, the taste forcing her to dry heave, it was so bad. Her stomach also rebelled, the pain of something like an ulcer manifesting in her gut. That was it for today, then, too many powerful potions reacted inside her body and if she took any more without letting her system recover, she’d be peeing blood or worse tonight.
“Alright, MP is over fifty and climbing. I’ll need to watch it because I’ve hit my potion limit.”
“You are such a min/max munchkin, and you don’t even know it,” Eve muttered, looking at Honoka like she was some kind of idiot. “The Health Attribute measures a person’s potion tolerance, grab some from Padmava and drink a dozen more of those things. In fact, if there’s some loose Wisdom you can allocate, grab those points because that increases the rate your MP recovers.”
Honoka’s jaw dropped.
After Miaka left at four o’clock, Honoka was led away to the front of the complex by Banda. It surprised the architect how quickly the line of buildings adjacent to the street turned into the center of business for the family. The main entrance went into the storefront, a small shop with a door next to a large display window. Inside, shelves lined the wall, stocked with dozens of vials colored in a rainbow of hues, handwritten prices underneath. Resting on the floor beneath the shelves were ten-gallon canisters of milk, wisps of cold air wafting off of shimmering blue runes. Along the back wall were a long counter and register in front of a door leading to the back rooms. Banda stated with some impressed pride that Jaya had been womaning the store for two days. They were already getting steady customers.
“Isn’t Jaya a bit young?” Honoka asked when they went through the door in the back, entering a small space holding beakers, bottles and burners of all sizes, space obviously meant for Diane’s alchemy lab. Banda turned left and walked through a second door into a large, open room.
“There’s a camera, which Pad watches religiously every second Jaya works, slithering back and forth like a nervous hen in the courtyard,” Banda explained, walking to the center of the room, office partitions enclosing Banda’s milking station with a setup identical to one of the stalls at the Boston Dairy. “Not only was it Pad’s idea, as she explained to me, but there isn’t a single person stupid enough in the Lair to mess with a naga, no matter her age. On top of it all, if anything does happen, momma snake is seconds away and will rain down righteous judgment on the wicked.”
Honoka remembered that venom from her own allocation and vividly recounted the long fangs whenever the little girl opened her mouth for a yawn. It didn’t do much to alleviate her fears - promising herself she would spend time in the shop to help whenever time allowed - but the young woman knew there was no more exceptional teacher than experience. Her father, Douglass Jefferson, employed a tiny Honoka on his construction sites when she was ten years old, wearing a hardhat and carrying tools or water to workers for hours on end. It taught her the importance of work. Honoka admitted to herself, a lot of her character had been built by the usually quiet man handing her an extension cord, telling her where to plug it in and run to which piece of equipment.
“I guess I can understand,” Honoka said vaguely, undoing her obi and slipping out of her kimono, setting them far out of the way, now garbed in only a white bra and panties. Rubbing her hands together, she looked a little lost to what she should be doing.
“Give me a second, I’ll explain everything you need to know.” Banda kept her toga on, instead pushed the sides of the loose fabric over her chest inward and exposing her thick, turgid teats, each nipple already dripping a little with creamy goodness.
Straddling over what resembled a weird barber’s chair, the holstaur rode it like a street bike. Banda’s abdomen lay flat against it and tilted up at an angle, the breasts suspended over air and drooping downward with a bar in front for Banda’s arms to hold or rest on, her hooves bent at the knee and situated without any weight on the floor. There was a foot pump near the base. With one hoof, she tapped it and lowered the chair down until her naked rear and exposed fat camel hovered at the perfect height for Honoka standing immediately nearby. The sight, of course, caused the black woman to harden, blood filling her cock to a semi-state in seconds.
“The process is uncomplicated,” Banda said, reaching over to one of the pumps and showing it to Honoka. “Monotonous, but not complex. Once the machine is on, you place this cup firmly over the teat, as tight to the areola as you can, then turn this valve.” Her thumb pointed to a black piece of metal with an arrow on it. “Once those are on both teats, the machine does most of the work. When one of the ten-gallon (37.8 L) pails is full, a beeping will go off. Hit the flashing button, pull out the pail and replace it, then hit the same button, causing a green light.”
“The light is green, the trap is clean,” Honoka said without sequitur. There were two empty pails locked into the machine, so it seemed simple enough. Honoka’s feeble body might not be enough to move those cylinders, already thinking about allocating some Strength if needed.
Banda continued, adjusting herself in the seat for a more comfortable ride, “When we near the end, I’m going to ask you to help knead my breasts until they’re empty. Don’t be gentle, you’re gonna need to really squeeze them dry.”
“Understood,” Honoka said, studying the buttons on the pumps and trying to fit the explanation to which switches were which. “Anything else?”
“Yes. Two things, actually.” Banda hesitated, blushing as she fidgeted with the pump in her hand. “I found a new blessing for my Class, I hoped to try it out today. It is supposed to increase my output. Also,” the holstaur quickly passed over that tidbit of information before Honoka responded, “I’m told by my aunt and sisters that sex can increase how much I lactate. Not as much as actually getting pregnant, but still a significant amount.”
“What you’re really saying,” Honoka said slowly, picking up a pair of C&A potions off a table in the corner and rubbing them together in her hand, “is getting you pregnant would increase your milk production?”
Banda looked at the potions and licked her lips. “By a lot.”
“By a lot,” Honoka repeated slowly like she tasted each word, weighing the potions in her hand and wondering at the possibilities as her cock became fully erect. Finally, after a minute of playing with the temptation, Honoka popped the caps and helped feed them to Banda, both women a little disappointed. “It wouldn’t be fair to Diane.”
“I know,” Banda whispered, her face scrunching at the awful taste and scraping her tongue on her teeth to get the ick off faster. Shaking her head, she set the pump down and began mumbling, both her hands shining with white light. However, unlike the blessing she previously gave twice to Honoka, she kept mumbling gibberish for five minutes, each minute the light growing more intense. With a flash, the brightness transferred into Banda’s breasts. It was surreal, the illumination making her massive juggs translucent and outlining every blood vessel, fatty tissue and swollen milk ducts before fading. Once the light faded, though, Banda’s eyes immediately widened. She gripped the bar in front of her tightly and thrust her chest out as much as the chair allowed. When she loudly lowed combined with a few body convolutions, thick streams of milk shot out of her nipples.
“Oh, crap!” Honoka quickly turned on the pumps and knelt to the ground, drenching herself with boob fluids but sealing the cups and pumping when she turned the valves. The amount of suction looked intense, and it wasn’t thirty seconds before Banda shuddered in orgasm from the machines milking her. Erect and wanting to operate the Super Speedy Milky Squeezy 6000, Honoka stepped around to the back of the chair and didn’t waste any time with foreplay, ramming herself between those fat and swollen labia, finding a wet cavern already waiting for her inside.
*beep beep beep*
The black hermaphrodite felt like she only got two schwings in before one of the lights flashed, though her rational mind told her she had been drilling oil for at least four minutes. Pulling out, she allocated three Strength from Diane and three from Quinn, bulking herself up to the level of an average human who visited the gym sometimes. Hastily pressing the right buttons, she changed the pail and plunged back inside her wife.
*beep beep beep*
“Grrrr!” This time it really was only a couple of slaps against those cheeks, but milking waited for no woman. Honoka pulled out and got ‘r done, sweating as she rounded the chair and went back inside. “How’re you doing over there?” Honoka asked as she frantically packed fudge.
“...third orgasm...almost...ooooOOH!...” Banda shuddered and clenched down on Honoka, panting as she tried to recover. “...fourth...”
*beep beep beep*
Honoka whacked her hands down hard on both of Banda’s sculpted glutes in frustration, causing the holstaur to moo in her fifth and pulled out to work. Which is when math reared its ugly head in her mind, pausing to think and add things up.
“How much does a holstaur usually produce a day?”
“Around thirty gallons (113.5 L) or more, depends on the girl.”
That was what Cholena said about holstaurs. When Honoka asked what Banda’s standard amount was this morning, she learned Banda was apparently a productive lady, the answer between fifty and fifty-five gallons (189.2 - 208.2 L) a day spread over two milkings. Admittedly, there weren’t many data points to paint a complete picture at this point. Morning milkings went to Honoka’s breakfast, the rest went up for sale. This was the third ten-gallon container, and the fourth was filling up fast. Spinning around, Honoka discovered a bit of an emergency.
“…this might have…uuh!…six…been a bad idea…” Despite her words, Banda drooled as she hugged her moneymakers, each resting entirely on the floor and expanding steadily. That enlargement included her sopping teats, each filling the plastic pumping cups past capacity. As Honoka watched, those turgid nip-nops pushed the caps upward to fit like tight hats instead of on the areola. Milk spilled everywhere at this point, the hoses incapable of keeping up with the volume of white cream spurting out of the seals and all over the stall.
“What do I do?!” Honoka asked in a panic, frozen with too many problems stacking up.
“…I…I…seven…first, switch the pail…problems if the pump stops…” Banda had trouble thinking, but she possessed all the answers at this point and realized it. Honoka fetched the containers and switched them as the holstaur recovered her breath to finish. “…then I need water and oats…in corner, next to empty pails…HAAA!…eight…”
Honoka held up to grab another six Strength and all the Endurance, but fell to her knees before she allocated. The mother of all headaches bloomed inside Honoka’s cranium to crippling levels. It appeared she had reached her limit, white bursts of agony behind her eyes, Honoka pausing to breathe the pain away. Nearby, the blasted beeping went off again, Banda’s loud ecstasy forced the suffering Ymirian moving, first to change the last container next to the pump and then to stumble towards the indicated corner.
A pallet of eighty-pound feed bags was stacked next to a hose. Along the wall, ten empty pails and two fifty-gallon (189.2 L) drums with the same handy cooling rune on them were lined up. Regretting not bringing her phone, Honoka decided the machine came first, then the food. Honoka lugged four pails over to the station, changing out the next container. Going back for the oats, Honoka groaned and grunted to moved the bag, making sure to bring the handy metal scoop she found nearby. The small woman lacked enough muscle to actually lift the bag, so it got slowly dragged, a panting Honoka stopping in the middle to change out the next pail.
When she finally pulled it over and opened it, Banda’s expansion looked finished. Finished, but different problems came to the fore. Banda was a big girl, wearing a mammoth 73T bra most days. Her weight in breasts alone was generally around a hundred and fifty pounds (68 kg). Only her Racial Features and Strength allowed her to move her body with any degree of freedom.
Right now, conservatively, Banda’s mammaries were a taut and sloshing forty inches (102 cm) diameter each and weighed in the combined vicinity of 3000 lbs (1361 kg). The holstaur woman retained enough presence of mind to raise the chair up another foot off the floor to make room, though the stall became mostly boobs at this point. Obviously nowhere near the Tits of Doom she experienced earlier this week, this was still a lot of milk, most of it spraying torrentially.
Honoka scooped a pound of oats and brought it over, using a stool she found in a corner, holding her other hand in front of her face to see through the white monsoon, tipping it in Banda’s eager mouth and then going back for more. The process went quickly because Banda wasn’t even chewing, just dry-gulping the food into her stomach as fast as possible, half the bag gone before Honoka needed to change the next pail. Going back to the corner, she transported the last six jugs and the hose, sticking the running water in Banda’s mouth before going back for a drum, changing a pail, and getting her daily workout lifting full containers to the height of her non-existent chest and emptying five into one of the drums.
Desperately wanting to stop as she heaved heavy breaths into her tired body, more beeping brought her out of it. There was nothing to it. Honoka changed the pail then fed Banda the rest of the bag of feed, changed the next pail, fetched the second drum, changed the pail, emptied the full containers into the last drum, changed the pail. It went on in a daze, seven more jugs filled before Honoka gained a bit of a second wind and caught up, earning a moment to relax. Which, looking over at tits liberally soaked in warm milk, got her moving to stick her penis between the fleshy globes as she fell bodily into them.
“Oh! Oh yes! Nineteeeeen!” Banda was an absolute animal if she hit those numbers, yet Honoka’s frustrations boiled to the surface. These warm breast felt heavenly, their own weight pressing them tightly enough together to give Honoka something to work with, but it was like having sex with a mattress. It was possible, that wasn’t the problem; rather, Honoka was out of energy. All the chocolate futa-girl wanted was to just lay in those cushions and go to sleep. Fortunately, her previous efforts in Banda’s pussy stimulated enough that the ever-hungry Beast only needed a little pushin’ inside the cushions to erupt.
Honoka squealed, tightening her arms to bring Banda’s breasts closer together and causing the entire collection of tits to shiver in yet another orgasm as Honoka’s stream shot through the fleshy wall and mixed with the milk on the floor to add to the flood. More beeping happened: however, it wasn’t like Honoka could stop, so she rode it out, which was a mistake in hindsight.
A second beeping followed on top of the first, then when Honoka found herself shuddering and going soft, a loud crack filled the room, causing the black woman to roll herself around for a clear view. One of the pumps popped off when the milk flooded into the stopped lines, but the other shattered when the pressure proved too much. Both tits sprayed freely like monumental mammary sprinklers.
Honoka couldn’t come up with a better solution, so she climbed down the mountain and plopped a buttery nipple into her mouth, sucking for all she was worth.
Previous to this moment, the Ymirian thought she liked fresh holstaur milk, but there was something better and fresher. Hot lactation filling her stomach, mouth to tit-nozzle, was ambrosia. Off the teat had a stronger magical charge to it because it felt like she drank electricity. Her Racial capacity to ingest food went into high gear, Honoka finding herself pulling in milk at five times the suction of the pumps, absolutely savaging Banda’s nipple. The bovine girl cried out her appreciation and tried to press her massive arms as tight as she was capable down onto her breasts, squeezing more milk into her thirsty wife. The thaumian content of the cow cream showed in Honoka’s expanding waistline, only taking less than a minute to balloon her so large she rested on her bloated belly and surfed the growth while her mouth continued to drink from the River Wild.
It took twenty minutes, but Banda now appeared lopsided. One breast was back to its standard size and drained dry while the other remained the size of a clown car. Honoka’s tummy had grown as large as a shed. The bloating woman could not move her own body, so Banda stood on shaky legs and used mighty thews to maneuver her teat into Honoka’s greedy mouth. Fifteen minutes later, Honoka was upside down, hanging bodily midair from her inflated abdomen like a balloon connected to a tank of helium, her largeness directed towards the empty space but still pressing tightly into the fifteen-foot ceiling. Both women vaguely worried about the building’s structural integrity as her black stomach, lacking anywhere else to go, kept bloating closer and closer to the wall.
“Are you gals done yet because I AAAHH!!” Eve strolled into the backroom and actually ran into a growing tummy, falling to the ground and scrambling out of the way of being crushed. “Dang it! How’s a girl supposed to reach the High Score if she has to deal with this?”
“Sorry!” Honoka cried. On the plus side, all this milk cured her headache. Also, boosting her Endurance was combating the growth and shrinking her down in record time. “I’ll tell you what, this was a terrific first day for everyone, the rest of it is for you!”
“You are going to regret that!” the little green goblin taunted back, running out the room before either wife there said anything else.
“I wanted her to fetch some towels,” Honoka lamented. Banda chuckled and stumbled her way over to the pallet of grains and ripped another open, using the scoop like a spoon and going to town, occasionally washing everything down with the water hose. In the end, the large woman went through two more bags and looked like she was about to pop from her own food baby, groaning on the wet stone as she massaged her tits under the soaked white toga.
“Note to self,” Banda said ten minutes later, looking like the victim of the world’s worst hangover as she tried to sit up and failed. “That blessing is a menace and should be used only sparingly. I can’t swallow another bite, yet I feel like I haven’t eaten a meal in days. I just can’t process food like you.”
“Good to know, let’s look into finding a magical meal bar or alchemical nutrition smoothie.” Honoka didn’t like being upside down, all the blood rushed to her head, and she felt nauseous. Considering what vomiting might mean for her, she spent all her energy keeping from reversing the flow as she shrank back to a manageable level.
Banda laughed, then groaned while she held her swollen stomach. “Not yes, Banda, we shouldn’t ever do that again, but instead, this is going to happen weekly or daily, so we better find a way to make it work.”
“I have a thing for growing breasts, your milk is some of the best stuff I’ve ever tasted, I think you are one sexy lady and if we can increase how much milk you produce it cuts down my food costs and increases the family revenue.” Honoka quickly checked and smiled when she announced the news. “Not only that, 51% increase in harmonization. Congratulations, you are now a level five Cleric after only one day and a few blessings.”
“Woah,” Banda replied in a Keanu-ish fashion like she just found out she knew kung-fu. “I’ll talk to Diane, see what she can brew up.” Clopping to her feet, Banda made her way around the shrinking tummy boulder and headed out the door. “I’ll fetch some towels and a change of clothes, don’t want to ruin that silk robe of yours.”
“Kimono,” Honoka replied. The holstaur smiled and waved as she walked out, leaving Honoka alone to shrink.
It didn’t take long, the chocolate woman only appearing pregnant by the time Banda came back, using the hose to wash then the towels to dry. Banda decided to stay in her white robes, saying she would soak in the Big Bath after this. Judging herself the world champion of wet t-shirt contests, the busty holstaur also wrapped a beach towel around her chest. Honoka took a little time to dry off then put on men's sized tan cargo shorts commando and a peach spaghetti tank with a blond video game princess who may or may not be in another castle printed on the front, her nips announcing she was also braless. They walked out together and were surprised to see the store open for the evening and Jaya womaning the register.
“Hi, Honoka mom, Banda mom!” Jaya said with enthusiasm and a wave before returning to ringing up a tiger man in full plate armor for his handful of potions. “All finished milking? Because we just ran out.”
“You got more milk in stock?” The voice that echoed from outside wasn’t so much loud as it encompassed the street and store. A massive, purple-skinned giant in a chain mail loincloth and carrying a club the size of a bus - even laying down in the street to look in through the windows - he was at least sixty-feet tall. Other customers leaned their heads away from the big sound, yet it seemed like half a dozen more people perked up and walked off the street to come inside, the promise of more milk bringing all the boys (and girls) to the yard.
Honoka was shocked, stunned speechless. The Ymirian knew she drank a lot of milk, probably polishing off a hundred and fifty gallons (567.8 L) in the last hour, but she considered herself abnormal. Performing the calculations, they possessed about two hundred gallons (757 L) in the back. Banda, however, looked like her child performed Mozart at a concert hall, all the other parents crowding to complimenting her.
“Hundreds of gallons, fresh off the…it’s fresh!” Banda ran into the back with loud clops. The room actually filled with cheers. The giant outside also cheered, but in a subdued whisper. The people instantly formed a line and Honoka hopped behind the counter to help.
“You write down the order in the book because Banda mom’s aunt gets some of the money, I think so we can use the magic metal thingies.” Jaya was adorable as she spoke. It looked like she gained a fanclub too, customers patiently waited for her to train Honoka. “Then the jugs are under the counter and you give out how many they need to fill up what they bought. Right now, the sizes are one and five gallons, but Diane mom says she’s ordering larger ones next week. If someone brings back their jugs to reuse them, I give them a discount. Once they have the jugs, they fill it themselves from the metal spigot thingies and I watch them, but everyone’s been so nice and there haven’t been any problems.”
Honoka didn’t think it was complicated, but as Banda brought in the first fifty-gallon (189.2 L) drum, business boomed. Phones got involved, soon enough there was a line out the door as the entire Lair received word of fresh milk. The purple giant bought a whole drum himself and drank it there like it was a soda pop, his cries of satisfaction echoing throughout the entire cavern before he set the canister outside and stomped away. It didn’t take a half-hour to sell their stock and turn some disappointed people away with the promise of more milk tomorrow.
Honoka’s eyes lit up as she looked over the book. For less than two hours worth of work, a hundred and ninety-two gallons (726.8 L) sold, before the cut to Cholena, it still added up to sixty gold coins or three thousand dollars gross. The register looked like it needed to be emptied. Taking a silent moment to enjoy the wealth, the three girls unabashedly basked in the greed.
“Yeah, definitely getting those meal bars,” Banda said after Jaya closed the register and returned to work selling potions. “Also, ought to call my aunt and see about finding larger pumps.”
“Might require to move everything into one of the rooms downstairs,” Honoka mused, leading the two outside into the courtyard to cross towards their rooms. “I don’t want to find out which will break first: growing breasts and bellies or ceilings and walls.”
“Point.” Banda leaned down and sloppily kissed Honoka, who returned the favor. “Have fun with Eve.”
Honoka smiled nervously. “I hope so? I might be scared.”
“The little monster is a masochist, not a sadist.” Banda hesitated before the door to the Big Bath. “Not much of a sadist. It should be fine.”
Honoka chuckled, though she took her time walking back to her rooms.
********************
“I don’t see any problem here.”
Eve said this with all seriousness, dressed in what Honoka would describe as a complicated weave of thin red leather strips emphasizing her otherwise naked body instead of covering it, spread eagle on the bed and tied down like she was a buck on the hood of a car with ratcheting cargo straps. Honoka, standing on the side of the bed, was similarly dressed in black fetish leathers, her masculine styled outfit accounting for her black cock. The uncomfortable half-asian wife held a cat ‘o nine tails whip in one hand, wondering how her life took a turn towards Zardoz without her realizing it.
“I’m just not comfortable doing this,” Honoka said honestly, lamely fiddling with the whip.
“Then, we don’t do it,” Eve replied simply, easing a lot of pressure off Honoka’s shoulders. “Rule number one of any bondage or sadomasochism is both parties need to be into it.” The goblin rotated her wrist to grab the quick release of the ratchets but Honoka reached out her hand, stopping Eve.
“It isn’t…I don’t…” The black woman lacked the right words and tried to convey everything with a pleading look.
“You don’t understand how someone can find any sexual enjoyment out of torture and inflicting pain on a loved one makes you physically ill.”
“Yahtzee! That.” Honoka smiled as she sat on the bed and booped Eve’s enormous nose.
“I’m with you, sister: pain sucks.” Eve appeared very relaxed being tied to the bed, the entire thing absurd as the greenie calmly spoke with that metallic rasp to her voice. “I’d forgotten how much pain hurts until you allocated me. I think any time you put me in a human body, I am going to freak out about stubbing my toe. Which is my point. I no longer feel pain. In fact, it’s the opposite.”
“But I can still hurt you,” Honoka said, setting the whip down and folding her hands together.
“The most potent healing potion Diane can make is on the nightstand, including gauze and saline. Quinn is in the commons room watching those sappy romcoms she likes and can rush in here if there’s any trouble. Either one of us says ‘lollipop,’ we immediately stop. Today is a simple training exercise, nothing extreme like choking, wax play or shock therapy. And most importantly, unless you want me to, this is all one-sided: you are not going to get a single scratch.”
Honoka thought about it, thought about it some more as the minutes ticked by. It was ridiculous, causing her to smile at nothing as she studied the tied up and leathered goblin woman patiently waiting for her wife to make a decision. That trust, more than anything, is what decided it for her. Honoka had been a goblin and knew they mirrored the attention span of a media news cycle. For Eve to calmly wait must require enormous amounts of willpower and monumental trust. Honoka also understood, rationally, that this would drive the little green woman wild with pleasure: Honoka might be the only non-goblin to experience this first hand.
“Ok, how do you want this?” Honoka asked, kneeling on the bed and picking the whip back up.
“Fast and hard, like I want most things,” Eve replied, smiling her fanged smile. “That kind of whip works best with a circular motion from the wrists, gives it that extra little flick.”
Rolling her wrists experimentally, Honoka felt a wave of dizziness that sent her partially onto the bed. Wondering what was wrong, Honoka discovered a surprise when she realized she’d been allocated all this time. Six points of Strength and six points of Endurance, from when she milked Banda earlier. Usually, not a big deal, the drain on her MP minuscule for so little a change, but it had been maintained for hours, Honoka’s MP already low from the romp with Diane earlier. 4% was her current reading and it made the situation…not dire, though definitely urgent. If it went down much lower, she’d probably pass out.
“Hold up, need to refresh my MP.” The futa-girl kept the allocations on, knowing the next couple of hours with Eve would physically tax her and she’d probably want the Class assist. She grabbed two powerful MP potions from the cabinet and popped them both, the taste forcing her to dry heave, it was so bad. Her stomach also rebelled, the pain of something like an ulcer manifesting in her gut. That was it for today, then, too many powerful potions reacted inside her body and if she took any more without letting her system recover, she’d be peeing blood or worse tonight.
“Alright, MP is over fifty and climbing. I’ll need to watch it because I’ve hit my potion limit.”
“You are such a min/max munchkin, and you don’t even know it,” Eve muttered, looking at Honoka like she was some kind of idiot. “The Health Attribute measures a person’s potion tolerance, grab some from Padmava and drink a dozen more of those things. In fact, if there’s some loose Wisdom you can allocate, grab those points because that increases the rate your MP recovers.”
Honoka’s jaw dropped.
