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Relaxing Retreat - Part 2 (Commission for Hyacinth)
🕑 Added 2020-06-27 19:52:08 +0000 UTCThe trip back from the two-day retreat was just as sloshy and wobbling as had been promised, made even worse by the fact that Iris refused to use their time at the town to empty herself; in fact, she seemed overjoyed by the fact that her tits were so full they hung close to her knees and protruded several feet in front of her and to her sides, happily bumping into anyone that got too close and taking every opportunity she could find to smush her lovely Tempest in between her milky mounds. The train ride was even worse, with the larger swan taking up a whole seat just for her bust, kneeling on the ground next to it so she could use her tits as a pillow and drawing enough of a blush out of her partner that he feared it would become a permanent fixture.
It didn’t get better when they arrived back at their house; Tempest insisted on the two of them immediately taking a bath, not just because the trip from the cabin had left them sweaty and tired, but mostly because their shower was the only place with a drain strong enough to withstand the sheer amount of milk that had built up inside his lover’s chest. Much to his consternation, however, Iris flat out refused the offer, and instead did something far more drastic...
Inside one of her drawers, she kept a pair of nipple clamps that rarely got any use, mostly due to how expensive they were to replace if anything went wrong. Their cost was directly linked to their rather unique ability to “extend” to meet any demands, and with what Iris had planned, they were just the things for her.
For the swan had no intention of milking herself down; quite the contrary, in fact. Those two days of allowing herself to fill up and grow ever bigger and heavier had been the best experience she’d had in years, even managing to surpass the many loving nights with her mate Tempest. It was raw, it was carnal pleasure in its simplest, most primal form, the knowledge that she could simply grow as large as she wanted by just literally doing nothing. It only took her a couple of calls to work to secure her ability to operate her workstation from home, after which there were no obstacles to her goal of achieving even greater sizes than before.
Of course, poor Tempest was the one who had to deal with everything that came with it. Still needing to physically head to his workplace meant that he was out of the house for hours at a time… therefore always returned to a swan that was noticeably bigger than when he last left her. With her bosom already at such an absurd size, gaining even more of it was as easy for Iris as, once again, doing literally nothing, but even that wasn’t enough for the growth-hungry swan. No, she needed more, deserved more. By her calculations, it would take weeks before she got anywhere close to what she wanted for herself, and thus Tempest’s help was needed.
The smaller of the two was initially extremely reluctant to lend his hand to his lover’s insane schemes. “You’re too big,” he would say, blushing furiously whenever Iris loomed over him and threatened to squeeze him dry without using her arms, “what’ll happen if you get bigger?”
Of course, both of them knew exactly what would happen in that case; Tempest, in particular, was acutely aware of the effects such a thing would have on him, hence why he was so adamant on stopping it before it got too late… but with him needing to be away from Iris for so long every day, the willpower to resist the growing swan just got more and more insignificant as the weeks carried on, until one day, he finally broke.
By that point, his lover had allowed her plugged tits to grow to the point where each one was bigger than she herself was, hanging one or two inches off the ground whenever she bothered to wear her massive slingshot bikini, or bumping against it when she didn’t. Moving from room to room had become impossible, and thus Iris spent her time in the living room, which they had turned into a kind of office space for herself. For the duration of that slow filling, both of her tits had remained untouched by Tempest’s hands, much to Iris’ irritation; but with his ability to resist turned to dust, the smaller swan arrived home one day, dropped his bag, and then unceremoniously declared that Iris had won, he had lost, and he would do everything she wanted him to do. He then capped that off by letting his body fall onto his lover’s bosom, sinking into the warm, inviting abyss of her fluffy cleavage and rubbing himself all over it.
This, of course, marked the beginning of Iris’ real plan.
Each tender touch and loving caress provided by Tempest had a powerful effect on her body; whether it be something unique to him or a biological byproduct born out of the shared bond between the two, his rubbing and massaging encouraged her body to produce even more milk than it usually did. This was normally transitory, and her production would go back to normal after a few hours, but now that she had effectively eroded Tempest’s willpower and then reshaped it into a form more suitable for her plans, she wouldn’t need to worry about anything.
Calling up her lover’s workplace and asking for a few days off was harder than expected, but nothing that a few well-placed sloshes and the promise of a bed made of tits wouldn’t make his boss reconsider. Simple enough at that point to let her lover stay home with her for as long as he wanted, after which he was put to work again, that time making her even larger.
His new task was to, put simply, love her tits. That’s all she needed him to do: spend every moment of every day rubbing and kneading and kissing and moaning into her enormous, milkstuffed udders, driving them to even higher production and thus allowing her to become even bigger than she already was. Tempest, once reticent to indulge that aspect of Iris’ desires, had fully succumbed to the same kind of growthlust that had befallen the larger swan, and was thus happy to spend whole days using his entire body to properly tend to his mate’s bust.
This had the desired effect and then some; with her milkiness continuously increased, even during the night after Tempest began using her body as a bed, Iris knew that she’d be immobilized very quickly… but even if the required mass came, she somehow remained mobile despite it all. In just a few days, her breasts came to rest on the ground even if she pulled them up with the bikini; removing it would make the floor creak under the pressure, and yet she found no difficulty in just pushing herself around, even if the whole “rubbing the underside of her tits against the carpet” thing made it exceptionally difficult to think about anything. Walls became things of the past; Iris decided one day that she didn’t want to stay in the living room anymore, and so broke through the thin barrier between it and the bathroom like it was nothing. Showering that day was immensely satisfying, especially when Tempest spent hours and hours underneath the running water just napping along on the sea of milk that were his lover’s breasts.
Getting out, however? Less easy.
But still Iris insisted on keeping her milk inside of her, even when the sloshing became so loud that it was impossible to hear anything else; one would think moving would be the issue, but even while standing still the massive swan produced enough noise to drown out the television on full volume. Much as she didn’t like to admit it, this was having one hell of an effect on her libido as well; Tempest wasn’t in much of a position to complain, being that he spent half his day worshipping her tits and the other half cock-deep inside of her eager slit, but Iris began feeling a burning desire for more that even her lover couldn’t satisfy.
Milk. She began downing gallons of it, in the vain hope that it would make her bigger. Supplements, boosters, anything to help improve her productivity. The days passed, her tits growing larger and larger until they were as tall as her, then a few inches taller, then finally towered several feet above her head. It was impossible for Iris to see in front of her, and while she could theoretically move herself, doing so would lead to their entire house crumbling; her tits had grown enough to graze the ceiling, weighty enough that the floor barely handled them. The swan feared that if she were to do anything more than a gentle inch-long slide every hour, their apartment would come tumbling down onto the one below it.
So, obviously, more was needed.
