Commission: The Milkmage - Preview 2

Story's going well, shouldn't be too much longer (though I do have to work on Moxie's for a little). Another preview of the events to come for our precious Myri.

"What an evening, as Myri slipped into one of The Leaky Teat’s finer rooms and finally got the chance to kick off her shoes. After her little competition the drinks started rolling her way, many she herself had to take part in filling, and it was singing and dancing about the bar with the locals until her feet were sore. After everything she’d done, Nemee had insisted she couldn’t just wander out into the night, not half drunk anyway, and so had given her a key to spend the night.

She collapsed onto the bed, the wooden frame creaking from the sudden impact. While not as lavish as those at the university, just the presence of a proper down-stuffed mattress and thick, warm, woolen blanket were like a gift from the heavens. Her dogs were barking, thankful to have her weight off them after her long day traveling and merriment, and she took it as a right proper sign to prepare to turn in for the day.

One by one the milkmage started removing her charms, laying them upon the nightstand with delicate care. They needed to be taken off in a proper order, many helped with expression, but just as many assisted with control. With each one that lost contact with her tanned skin she could feel her breasts swelling and receding, the concentration of her milkmagic changing and ushering them towards expression or rest. When all were done her chest was lain bare, a pair of perfectly spherical orbs upon her form, small white droplets already eagerly waiting on her nipples; her natural state.

There was a pride to be had in her gifts, Myri idly scooping up one of her beads on a finger to take to her lips. It had been fine with booze, but in her mind, it was far more perfect on its own.

She was about ready to slip out of her uniform dress when there was a knock upon her door, drawing her icy blues its way. “Come in,” she offered, not wishing to rise back to her feet.

Who could it be the traveler couldn’t help but wonder? Maybe Nemee come to check on the room. Or perhaps her rival finally expressed back to a more manageable size and wanted to slip a last few venomous words in. Neither were immediately correct, as the door swung open to reveal a new face.

Freckles dotted across her nose and cheeks, partially hidden by a proper tan, earned from working her days in the fields, that made Myri’s sun-kissed skin seem like a joke. Shoulder-cut sandy hair was done up in pigtails to keep it out of her face, letting her hazel eyes sparkle on their dark canvas, and opening the way to follow down her body. She wore little, just a loose fitting, and frankly undersized, top that had seen a right amount of wear and tear, and a pair of similar shorts that hugged tightly to her rear.

Her arms and legs were well toned, another sign of a life of labour, with defined muscle under smooth-looking skin and lithe hands you could make out the discoloration of calluses on. The short nature of her top showed off flat abs that held her high, leading up to a pair of petite but perky boobs, and down to fine hips that would likely one day continue her family line. For today though, they were a treat on the eyes, making their way into the milkmage’s room and crawling up onto the bed with her.

Not that the buxom blonde was opposed to a cute girl in her bed, she rather enjoyed such experiences, but it did catch her by surprise to have a stranger on her sheets. Before the well spoken novice could inquire as to her reason for being here however, another appeared in the still open doorway.

“Hope we’re not intrudin’,” Nemee stepping inside and gently sealing the door behind her.

She’d changed out of her grime-covered work clothes and into a simple white nightdress. Considering the light nature of it, the way it hung off her modest breasts like water that waved about her thighs as she moved, it was probably fine satin or silk; and the most expensive thing a country girl like her owned. The kind of thing only for special occasions.

“After all ya did today, figured a bowl o’ stew n’ the Teat’s best bed weren’t quite ‘nough,” she explained, walking over on long barefoot strides to join the pair. “Made more in a night 'an the usual week, n’ ya saved me least one spill,” her cheeks tinted rose, as she slid up with them, her legs curled in such a way as to offer the lightest peek up her dress, to the lack of any underthings beneath, “ah wanted to give ya proper thanks Myri.”

Her green eyes flitted upward, filled with an all too recognizable emotion: desire, and it had the same stirring within the milkmage. Her tits perked, nipples puckering and growing ever so slightly with anticipation as the flesh behind them filled with her milk. She was up two sizes in seconds, the beads upon her teats swelling until their breaking point where they rolled down the round underside of her bust.

“Wow, ya weren’t lyin’ Nem,” the freckled girl among them gasped in wonder, edging closer, placing her arm across the blonde’s body so she could be right up to those pebbly fountains, “leaks right easy.”

“’T’s beautiful right?” the innkeep cooed, drawing in herself and closing any distance between the three. “An’ it’s so sweet, like cream,” she licked her lips, her breath hot against the bare skin of Myri’s exposed chest, “What say we help ‘er Airene?”" - "The Milkmage" by Madam Materia