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[Prologue]

"Why do I have to look so bloated?" bemoaned June Parlor Norbert. She waddled across the soft carpeted floor of the master bedroom toward her equally-soft bed. People would've thought she was smuggling a set of medicine balls had she wore a maternity shirt. "It's unfair. Tall women aren't supposed to show this much so soon. Five months and already I look like a stranded near-whale. Why couldn't it wait until the ninth month?"
    "Because God decided to reward your virtuous work," said an impish Greg, June's stout husband. He came from the kitchen, wielding a half-eaten taco in one hand. "There's nothing more empowering that a belly filling with child."
    June snorted as she settled onto the bed, her naked basketball-sized wonders bumping against the top of her equally-naked, pronounced belly. "Yeah, and there's nothing more indulgent than a belly filled with tacos. I see it was a mistake teaching you how to cook."
    "Hogwash. It was an excellent idea." Greg polished off the taco he had in his hand. "I've spared you the drudgery of cooking so you can dedicate yourself to the matter at hand."
    "Yeah. You keep cooking foods that I absolutely have to eat. I'm going to end with a 10-kilo baby at this rate."
    Greg got into bed and snuggled up to June. He placed his taco-warmed hand on June's belly, then laid his head on her accommodating right breast. "I seem to recall a boast you made at your police retirement party last year. You wanted a baby that'll make full use of your milk-filled breasts. I'd say a 10-kilo baby can make that boast come true."
    "Shut up, you." June messed up Greg's hair like a mother playfully teasing a child. "With my luck, I bet my breasts will be engorged with milk by this time next week. And my ankles! It's getting so bad that even waddling around will be an effort unto itself. I don't know how Lynnae and Amber put up with their swollen ankles and back-straining bellies during their pregnancies. Especially Lynnae and her outsized watermelons."
    "Perhaps it wasn't God that made your tummy fill out so prominently so soon. I think you just had to prove something to Lyn and Amber. You want to prove that you're just as cute as they were when they were preggers."
    "Cute? Cute?!" June said in playfully indignant tone. "You only know a third of what I'm going through." Her hand moved down onto Greg's pot belly, where she proceeded to rub it like a masseuse. "Get some fat ankles and plasticrete-filled balloons on that hairy chest. Then you'll have an idea of what I go through each day."
    Greg rubbed the side of his wife's baby-filling belly. He then kissed the breast that moments earlier served as his headrest. "Truce, my glowing one. How about I read to you a story for tonight? Something from Bedtime Stories for Big Girls and Boys, perhaps?"
    "That'll do, love. Before you start, could you cover my cold feet?"
    Greg whistled, and in came Growler, the Norbert's pet dachshund. The 14-kilo brown-coated dog jumped onto the bed at Greg's prompting, settling on June's feet like a living hot water bottle. "Comfy now?" Greg asked as he draped a blanket over June's chest and tummy.
    "Yes. Thank you."
    Retrieving a file pad from his night stand, Greg went on to read a naughty bedtime story for his wife. He even did all the voices and sound effects.
 

1

If stones were loaves of bread, then the people of Mildore would never be in want for food. As it stood, the rock-strewn fields made for poor farmland. Only the gold of the Ironwall Mountains, used to purchase food from neighboring kingdoms, kept the stomachs of the people full. Until recently, there was enough food for everyone in Mildore. Then a war broke out between two of Mildore's neighbors, ending the sale of surplus food from the both of them.
    Assembling her council of advisors, Queen Vanilla, ruler of Mildore, sought an answer to her country's food crisis. The Queen's usually plain-looking face was worked into a visage of consternation. "What can we do, gentlemen?" she asked. "With Hastuv and Dessu at war, our farmers are unable to make up for the shortfall. As it stands, there isn't enough food to last through the winter."
    "That is a most accurate statement, your royal highness," said Jontan, the Mildore minister of records. "The granaries and potato bins will not last the winter. Even with rationing, the people will have eyes bigger than their starvation-bloated stomachs before the first harvest of next year. Our rivers will not provide enough fish to make up the shortfall."
    Queen Vanilla tapped the top of the council table with a measured beat. "Can we purchase fish from the Kingdom of Wulter?"
    "The King of Wulter would like nothing better than to have our gold, my queen. So enriched, he can strengthen his army and wage war on us. The Kingdom of Green Glen, on the other hand, wouldn't sell us a wagon filled with food, even with all the gold we could offer."
    "Truth, Minister Jontan. I have given this matter much thought over the last few weeks. Each time I arrive at the same conclusion."
    General Skrang, the rough and tense-looking commander of the Mildore Army, spoke out. "My queen, though we can wage war on Green Glen to gain control of their croplands, I strongly advise against it. True, their army is small, but the Glen royal family is renowned for their magical powers. Recall what happened two generations ago when Mildore and Green Glen last fought."
    "I hardly need a reminder, General. The war ended when the Glen King used magic on our army. Crippling flatulence was, I suppose, a humane way to end the war. However, leaving our men with foul smells for the rest of their lives was uncalled for. My grandfather was at the receiving end of every bad joke in foreign courts 'till the day he died. 'Lord of the Smells' indeed! Well," Vanilla said wickedly, "that will not happen this time around!"
    The advisors leaned forward in their chairs. Skrang was on the verge of losing his balance. "My lady, are you planning to use magic to combat the Glen royal family? You're not thinking of using . . . "
    "Yes! We can afford his fee. Now that we can't buy the food we need, we can use our gold to secure his services."
    Jontan scratched his ear. "Who's this we're talking about?"
    The doors to the chamber opened on their own volition. In stepped a short, stooping man clad in the dark robe of a wizard. His head covered with thin white hair and wielding a gnarled walking stick, the aged spellcaster bowed before the queen. "To answer your question, Minister Jontan, I am Popo the Wizened. Master of mystic magic and summoner of secret spells."
    General Skrang snorted. "You've forgotten to add 'bedder of buxom barmaids' and 'fondler of females fair'. As I recall, Popo, you only provide your services if women are in the offering."
    "So easily you cast dispersions upon my character, General." Popo said playfully. "I cannot help it if women throw themselves upon me. They obviously recognize and appreciate great power when they see it."
    "If they can look past those wrinkles."
    Popo tried to make a dismissive snort, but he nearly hacked up his own lungs. The wizened man collected himself deliberately. "It's only the gold your queen has offered that preventing me from teaching you a lesson, General," Popo managed to say before turning to the Queen. "Royal Highness, shall I give the honor and enlighten your council on your plan?"
    "Do tell them, Popo," said Vanilla in a voice cool enough for ice. "It's within your realm of expertise."
    "As you wish it, your Highness." With his aged eyes lighted with mischievousness, Popo spoke to the Queen's advisors. "In two weeks Flora, princess of Green Glen, will attain her majority and inherit her father's magic power. Using my incomparably superior talent, I shall taint that transfer of power. Flora will be unable to use her magic. Your army can then conquer Green Glen before the first snows of winter."
    "I must have assurance that Flora will pose no threat to the army," Skrang countered. "I do not want my men crippled with permanent flatulence, or something equally repugnant."
    Popo waved away Skrang's concern. "My magic will clear the way for the army, General. I, Popo the Wizened, never fail."

It was a time of celebration in the Kingdom of Green Glen. Princess Flora, daughter of Peren and Cloa, the royal couple, entered the grand hall of the palace. It was Flora's 20th birthday, and the hall was packed with people. Everyone was eager to make the dark-haired princess happy and joyful on this her most important day of her life. Before the presentation of gifts and the subsequent banquet, however, a special ceremony had to be done first. King Peren was to pass on his magical powers to Flora, and no one wanted to miss the ceremony.
    Standing on stage at one end of the hall was King Peren and Queen Cloa. Peren had the trumpeters play a note, silencing everyone in the hall. "Good people of Green Glen," the King said to the partygoers, "it's time for me to pass on my magic to my daughter Flora. For the last five years she's prepared herself for the responsibility that comes with such power. The magic can only stay within the possession of a Glen family member for forty years. That is more than enough time for Flora to make a family of her own so she could pass the magic to her own offspring."
    At the foot of the stage was the princess herself. She blushed as her admirers made subtle chuckles and grins at the king's not-so-subtle reminder of her other duty. Already facing a legion of suitors, the princess knew she would face even more prospective mates in the days to come. Only when she had made her decision would her life attain a measure of predictability and peace.
    With dark blue eyes sparkling, Flora got on stage and knelt before her father. Her formal gown, white and frilly, fitted her like a glove. Graced with feminine childbearing hips, Flora had a chest that was as flat as a calm lake. Some would see this as a deficiency, for her mother Cloa had a healthy pair of breasts that most Green Glen women had. As her father placed his hands on her head and recited the magic transfer phrase, Flora imagined herself with a suitable set of breasts. Perhaps, she told herself, when I make my birthday cake wish, I can make my gown fill up a little by using my new-acquired magic. After five years of study , she grinned on the inside, I'm entitled to some fun.
 

2

Meanwhile, in Queen Vanilla's throne room, Popo the Wizened gazed into a large crystal ball. Vanilla herself looked into the ball as well. With his magical talents, Popo spied upon the party at the Glen palace. "Ah, there she is," said the wizard. "The time draws nigh."
    "As well it should," replied the Queen. "This had better work, Popo."
    "It will, your royal highness." Popo dipped his hand into a bowl containing lard. Grabbing a sizeable clump, Popo then worked on the lard like a child making a mudpie.
    The Queen looked a bit disturbed. "The way you're messing with that lard is rather unsettling."
    "Don't look then." Popo worked with a purpose. He fashioned the lard into a crude female figurine. It was more of a parody than an actual representation. The figurine was fixed with outsized breasts that seemed to get larger the more Popo played his thumbs over them.
    "Is that relevant?" Vanilla began to wonder about Popo's state of mind. Nothing was worse than a perverted old wizard with a sexual appetite of twenty men.
    "Oh, quite relevant, your highness. You'll see in a few minutes what my magic has wrought." In Popo's hands the figurine of lard had breasts the size of ripe apples. Each play of his thumbs over those fatty orbs caused them to get bigger . . . and bigger.

The birthday cake on the center table was large and detailed. Surrounded by well-wishers and family alike, Flora closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on her magic power before blowing out the single candle.
    "Unless you like the taste of wax with your cake, Pumpkin," said King Peren in playful jest, "you better put that candle to rest."
    Coinciding with her exhale, Flora's first magical act became apparent to everyone. The front of her gown filled and stretched with the breasts she been waiting to get for the last five years. Big as sun-drenched royal apples, the breasts placed a strain on the gown. Breathing through her nose, Flora knew a regular inhale would surely squeeze her chest, if not rip the gown open at the seems.
    Queen Cloa winked a knowing eye at her daughter. "I had a feeling that would be the first thing you'll try. Now, be a dear, and use your magic to relight the blown-out candles in the chandeliers above us. I'm sure everyone wants to see your new outline better."
    "I can, mother, if you don't embarrass me further."
    "No need, daughter. You're quite capable of doing that yourself."
    "Mother!" Flora said bashfully. Looking up so she would avoid the grinning eyes of her admirers, the princess recited a magical incantation. Perplexed that the spell to relight the candles didn't work, Flora was about recited it again when she felt a tightening sensation in her chest. She felt as if the gown was going to squeeze the breath from her body. Glancing downwards, Flora found her new breasts had gotten larger. The gown was stretched and stressed over the ample breasts to begin with, and it was even more so now.
    "Daughter," said a perplexed Cloa, "I do believe that's enough. You have breasts enough to keep two babies fed at the same time."
    "Mother! This wasn't supposed to happen!" Flora's breathing caused the first of several overworked stitches to break, easing the pressure she was feeling. "Here, I'll try to light the torch on the wall over there." More stitches ripped as Flora quickly raised her arm, pointing to the torch in question. She recited the spell incantation loudly and clearly so that all may hear. Nothing happened to the torch, but her chest got larger. Ripping down the sides, the gown parted, the front being pushed ahead by Flora's filling mammaries. The sides of her pale sweetmelon-sized breasts were seen by everyone. Embarrassed, the princess brought her arms up the sides of her exposed boob flesh, pushing the now-large orbs closer together.
    "This is bad," said King Peren. "Your magic has been tainted in some way, Flora. Until we can reverse it, you dare not use your magic. Your breasts will get as large as this palace if you recite a powerful enough spell."
    "So if I try to use a fireball spell . . . "
    "Flora!" Cloa cried. "Don't say . . . "
    Being a spell she wanted to try out once she had her magic power, Flora spoke the words of the fireball incantation. Whatever force had perverted her magic was still in effect, for instead of a fireball, Flora's breasts got even larger. The suffering gown lost most of its side stitches, exposing much more breast flesh. Now the size of summer watermelons, the breasts were really putting a strain on Flora's back muscles. "Oh damn! Me and my undisciplined mouth! I can feed a whole litter of children now with such milkers!"
    "What a calamity!" cried Cloa. "Our kingdom will be in jeopardy as long as Flora's magic is corrupted."
    Peren helped her bewildered daughter into a chaira and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. He saw the stunned looks of the partygoers around him. "Calm down, everyone. The foul taint that's affecting my daughter's magic will be dispelled. All will be well."

"Ah!" crowed Queen Vanilla, pointing a dagger-like finger at the crystal ball. "All will be well once my army takes over your kingdom! I'll see to it that you toil in the muck and filth like a farm animal, King Peren! Let's see if you like being called Lord of the Smells!"
    Popo the Wizened kept his vigil over the crystal ball. His eyes never wavered from the now top-heavy Princess Flora. "With no magic to oppose you, my queen, the army will make short work of whatever forces King Peren can muster. Your General Skrang is a well-practiced warrior. When it comes time for the harvest in Green Glen, your army would have carried the walls of the Glen palace. You yourself will be sitting on King Peren's throne."
    "I can practically taste the bread made at Glen bakeries as this moment." Vanilla caressed the crystal ball in a sensuous manner. "Thanks to your magic, Popo, my kingdom shall never be in want for food again."
    "You were wise to employ my talent, your highness. If you'll excuse me, I must rest my weary bones. Casting the spell on Flora has been a bit of a strain."
    "Take your leave, wizard. You've earned it." Vanilla was utterly entranced with the crystal ball. She played her hands over the ball like she would for a lover. So occupied, she failed to notice that Popo walked away with a much more pronounced stoop than before and that his steps were shorter. He was concentrating on the potency of his most favorite wand. Up in his quarters awaited Marla, Popo's assistant. Marla aspired to learn the magic arts from Popo. Part of her duties was the upkeep of Popo's spellbooks and the cleaning of his wands. At that moment, the crafty old wizard needed Marla to clean his favorite wand. It will take all night and part of the next morning to do it, but Marla was nothing if not thorough. Besides, she loved the power she felt as she held the wand in her hands. She considered herself lucky to be the one woman in the world who could hold her wizard's wand every night if she wanted. It was a nightly privilege she rarely declined.
 

3

The Mildore Army, under the command of General Skrang, made considerable progress against the Green Glen forces. In less than eight weeks Skrang had advanced to within 30 miles of the Glen palace. Driven by victories won so far, Skrang was certain the palace could be taken in one week. About to summon a set of messengers, the general was rankled by a strong odor of sulfur. He turned to find Popo the Wizened standing on top of a tree stump. "What brings you here, wizard? You've already done your service for Queen Vanilla."
    The old wizard stepped off the stump, eyes sparkling. "Your queen has asked me to relay a message to you. Thanks to your excellent progress, Vanilla has decided to be present when your army attacks the palace. Once you've established camp, Vanilla will be teleported there by means of my magic."
    Skrang snorted, waving his hand in the air before his face. "I trust you won't make her appearance as pungent as yours. Your odor can scare game for miles around."
    "What can I say, general? Breakfast eggs, as delicious as they are, are most disagreeable with my digestion. However, can I help it if the maidens that share my bed insist on making eggs the following morning?"
    "That was something I didn't need to know, Popo." Skrang had his horse brought to him. "If you'll excuse me, I have an army to lead. Tell the queen I'm looking forward to her arrival."
    "Don't let me delay you, Skrang. I have to be going as well." In a flash of light and a blast of sulfur Popo disappeared. Skrang was glad he was upwind of the gassy old man this time.

The remnants of the Glen army had assembled at the royal palace. Along with peasants pressed into service, the palace defenses were strengthened and manned. Even with the courage of ten times their number, the defenders knew that Mildore army still outnumbered them. It was only the hope that Princess Flora's magic could be restored in time to turn the war in Green Glen's favor.
    In the palace library Flora and her father, King Peren, poured over manuscripts and scrolls. They were searching for a way to reverse Flora's predicament. Eight weeks of toil had found nothing. With the Mildore army within reach of the palace, the despair Flora was feeling rose. After reading a particularly thick tome, the princess sighed deeply. Her simple gown, filled with melon-sized breasts, wobbled from her effort. "It's hopeless, father. I cannot see how my condition can be reversed."
    Peren rolled up the scroll he was reading. "Don't say that, daughter. I'm confident there's a solution to your condition. For all we know, the answer is hiding in plain sight."
    "That's something I can't say about me. The only way I can hide in the open is if I'm surrounded by similarly-endowed women." Flora cradled her breasts like they were babies. "I doubt there are even ten other Glen women who are as built as me."
    Peren stood, placing a hand to his belly. "All this reading has made me hunger for lunch. Some weight in the belly will make me think better."
    "Getting some weight off my chest would be better as well." Without realizing it, Flora spoke the words for a levitation spell.
    "Daughter, stop . . . " Peren was too late. Flora's hexed magic went to work, swelling her considerable breasts to greater size. In moments her gown ripped open, her lap filled with new-enlarged mammaries. Feminine modesty made Flora attempt to cover her naked chest, but all she could do was cover her still comparatively small nipples.
    "Oh goodness," breathed the king. "Let me fetch a blanket for you."
    "Now I daresay I'm the most buxom woman in the world. Five years I've spent preparing myself to use magic. Now, whenever I use it, my breasts swell in size like loaves of bread in the oven. Even a lapse in my self-control can cause me to grow." Tears of frustration rolled down Flora's cheeks and onto her breasts. "What have I done to deserve this perverse fate?"
    Peren went to Flora's side, offering her a handcloth with which to dry her face. "I understand your feelings, my little buttercup. This war with Mildore would've been over had no hex been placed on you. Have faith that a way to free your power will be found."
    "I want to believe you, Father," said Flora after she cleared her face of tears. "Fate had better intervene soon. I don't relish being a trophy wife of General Skrang."

With their objective in sight, troops of the Mildore Army prepared themselves to assault the Glen palace. Observing the activities of his enemies by means of a spyglass, General Skrang made a slight grin as he turned to Queen Vanilla. "Their palace will fall easily enough to our catapults, my queen. They built it for opulence, not for war. My men can crush the defenses easily enough."
    The plain-looking queen looked through her own spyglass at the palace. "Try to limit the damage to the palace, General. I want to hold the victory dinner in the Great Hall." Vanilla's nostrils flared at the presence of a foul odor. "What is the disgusting smell?"
    Popo the Wizened stepped into view. In his left hand was a half-eaten onion, the right held a brace of hot peppers. "Forgive my choice of afternoon snacks, Queen Vanilla. I find that eating onions and peppers most agreeable with my constitution."
    Vanilla had to step away so she wouldn't gag from the smell. "Popo," said the queen as she gathered her breath, "why are you still here? You've been paid for your services. Wizards aren't noted for their interest in physical combat."
    Popo took a bite of the onion and, without bothering to chew it, swallowed. "Ah, I have a reason," he replied, his malodorous breath reinforced. "With your permission, I shall like to spend a night with Princess Flora once she's been captured. I want to appreciate her ample beauty firsthand before she is dealt by your royal majesty."
    "Yes you may, Popo. If your foul breath doesn't do her in, then she will waste away in a tower back home."
    "Thank you, Queen Vanilla. Now if you will excuse me, I must fetch more peppers." His eyes twinkled as he drew the hood of his robe over his head. "They're an acquired taste." With a casual turn the wizard ambled off to find the peppers he loved so much.
    "That's what the women who bed Popo each night must say," said Vanilla as she spoke softly into Skrang's ear. "You may commence your attack when ready, General."
 

4

Being the structurally strongest part of the palace, the throne room was the only safe place for Queen Cloa and Princess Flora. Along with a handful of female palace servants, mother and daughter waited in stoic silence as King Peren commanded the palace troops. Occasionally dust fell from the ceiling as catapult-launched stones impacted on the palace roof. The silence was too much for Flora.
    "If there's just one thing I regret," Flora said unexpectedly, "is that I will never have a loving man in my arms. That plain-looking Queen Vanilla will probably hand me over to that despicable General Skrang. I'd be nothing by a bedroom fixture for that man."
    "You have a way to get rid of Skrang if gets too rough." Cloa said in a playful conspiratorial tone. "Try casting a spell and then smother him with the resulting breast growth. You can always claim it was caused in the heat of passion."
    "Mother! How was father able to sleep in the same bed with you for all these years I'll never know." As the two women laughed, Flora played her hands over the vast expanse of cloth-covered breasts. "Still, I wish I had a good man to share my world with me."
    Cloa's eyes widen in revelation. "Flora! I just remembered something. It was in a book I've read." Sending a servant to fetch the book in question from the palace library, Cloa got up from her throne and moved next to her daughter. Placing a reassuring hand on Flora's shoulder, the Queen smiled warmly. "If my recollection is correct, then we may yet put this war to an end."

King Peren was brought into the throne room at the instance of Queen Cloa. Clad in armor, the King's pacing filled the room with soft metallic sounds as his wife told him what she found. "Are you sure, Cloa?" he said as he tugged on his chin. "The Glen court of two hundred years ago was filled with rumor and deceit. That diary you've read may just be some girl's ramblings."
    "I believe it's not, Peren." With the diary in hand, Cloa walked back to Flora. "It sounds true in my ears. The princess back then was only able to use a fraction of her powers until she and her man joined in bed. I believe Flora might be affected by something similar. Her female drives have yet to experience the intimacy of a man. Until she's made a full woman, our Flora will continue to blossom in the bust each time she uses her magic."
    "Cloa, that might be true. Only a fraction of the royal family that wielded the magic was female. I hate to believe it's something as intimate as virginity that has placed Flora in this pickle." Peren removed the armored glove from his hand so he could feel the bare flesh of his daughter's shoulder. "Flora, I know what Vanilla will do to me and your mother. It's also certain that plain-looking queen will give you to that General Skrang. Are you willing to try this idea of your mother's and deflower yourself?"
    Cradling her lap-filling breasts, Flora looked firmly into Peren's eyes. "Either I get my powers restored or I don't, father. Besides, if I must be deflowered, I would rather have it done by a Green Glen man than that rancourous Skrang."
    "We mustn't wait a moment longer. Do you have a particular man in mind?"
    Flora grinned as she stood on her own two feet. The outsized blouse she wore was tested sorely by her burgeoning breast mass. Only the tenacious hold she had on her buxomness kept her from collapsing onto the floor in a heap. "Yes, father. Please call in the captain of the guard. He'll be surprized to learn what a unique honor he'll be doing for his kingdom's survival."

Taking a break from gazing at the distant palace battle, Queen Vanilla took a sip of wine from a glass offered by Popo the Wizened. "A might early for the victory drink, but I feel I'm entitled. Soon the palace will be mine, and the shame Mildore experienced two generations ago will be expunged."
    Popo bowed before Vanilla. In his hand was a crystal ball, very much like the one he used to spy on Flora's birthday party weeks earlier. "Would you care for a look inside the castle, your majesty? I daresay you would appreciate the look of despair on the faces of the Glen royal family."
    "A kind offer, Popo. I really have no need of that crystal ball now. Why do I  suspect that you're the one who really wants a view of the inside?"
    "Perceptive, as any queen should be. I must look upon the ample form of Princess Flora to satisfy my curiosity." Levitating the crystal ball, Popo conjured up the image of Flora. His lips curled in delight as he spied the top-heavy princess in what had to be her quarters. She was naked, spread out on her bed in all her glory. Popo ever so wanted to plant his hands on Flora's overwhelming breasts and tease those pouty nipples in his aged-gnarled hands. He wondered if Flora's full dark hair would be silky to the touch. The lighting in her chambers made it look that way.
    A frown pushed away Popo's grin as a man entered the crystal ball's field of view. Like Flora, the man was without clothes. Popo could clearly see the man's muscletoned physique. He considered casting a spell to change the young upstart into a toad, but thought the better of it. The man got onto the bed, straddling the chesty Flora. Had Popo but know it, the man was the captain of the guard. Hands that had but minutes earlier wielded weapons were now instead plying the expanse of breasts before him. Popo's eyebrows rose in approval as he watched. Clearly the young man had some teaching in the sensual art, playing the buxom woman like a vibrant instrument.
    Though he couldn't hear what was happening in Flora's room, Popo readily imagined the grunts and wails produced by the young couple. The man was suckling like a baby on Flora's left nipple, evoking what had to be waves of ecstacy from the ample woman. Popo likened the nipple-suckling experience to that of sucking a big lemon. Just the thought of it made Popo's mouth water. After the nipple suckling came torrid, passion-laden kissing. Flora's lips, red and pouty, reminded Popo of strawberries. He couldn't help but liken parts of the female body to his favorite foods. Shoulders were like sides of succulent beef, and thighs like plump chicken legs. Popo kept watching, taking note of Flora's reactions to the man's sexual administrations. Once the princess was in his practiced hands, the wizard could send Flora to greater heights. Much greater.
    Then it happened. The crystal ball surely would've shattered from the sound of Flora's climax. Great breasts heaving, the princess drew the man as close to her as possible, making him a prisoner in her cleavage. Popo had never experienced what the man was going through now. Going back to his food analogy, the wizard imagined it was like being a watermelon seed between two squeezing fingers, really to fly away at any moment. Gauging by Flora's hold, it was clear she wanted to keep the man between her breasts forever.
    Popo found himself panting heavily, covering the ball with his exhaled breath. It would still be many hours before he could place himself in the cleavage of that woman, but Popo was patient. For a long moment the man that deflowered the princess so energetically stayed between the massive mammaries. Then, like a battle-weary solider, Flora's man got up and washed his face from a nearby water bowl. He came back and washed Flora's face and bosom, the glisten breastskin again reminding Popo of food, this time fresh watermelons. It was an easy comparison, for Flora's breasts were really that big.
    "Popo," said Queen Vanilla, startling the old man. "Are you ill? Your face is so pale."
    "It's just the excitement, my queen." Popo returned the crystal ball to one of his robe pockets. "My blood should flow in its normal course in a few moments."
    "Oh." Vanilla noticed Popo was hunched over more than was his want, and that a section of robe over his crotch was protruding slightly. Feeling a bit queasy and unsettled by the sight, Vanilla turned her attention back at the palace. She needed no further proof of Popo's legendary sexual vigor. A man as old as Popo who can still make impressions past thick robe fabric clearly still had fire in his loins.
 

5

"It's dangerous. Are you sure you want to be in the courtyard?" Walen, the captain of the guard, looked anxiously at Flora. "A stray catapult round might hit you as you cast your spell."
    Clad in a flimsy gown that did nothing to hide her form, much less her still-proud nipples, Flora kissed the man of her dreams. "For my spell to work, I must have as much room as possible. If I cast it while in this room, I could bring down the whole palace."
    "The Mildore catapults are doing that job too well." Walen quickly donned an undershirt and a pair of breeches. "We must make haste for the courtyard."
    Running as best she could, Flora's gown ripped from the strain placed on it. Her breasts spilled out of the ruined garment, shimming and wobbling with each urgent foot-fall. Even with arms corralling her mass, Flora felt as if she would fall forward at any moment. She nearly did at the bottom of the stairs, but Walen caught her in time. In doing so, his hand contacted one of Flora's turgid nipples. As much as she liked the feeling such handling produced, the princess pried Walen's hand away. "Later, my love. Alone in my chambers you can fondle my body as much as you want." She didn't need to see Walen's face to know it was grinning ear-to-ear.
    Finally the duo reached the courtyard. Empty of people, the yard did have a random scattering of catapult stones that overshot the walls. Still concerned about Flora, Walen gave his newfound love a good luck embrace. With unspoken prompting, Flora had Walen step back to the courtyard entrance as she herself went to the center. Lying down flat on her back, the princess chanted the words of a spell, her hands clutching at the sides of her naked milkers.
    Walen's eyes bulged as Flora's melon breasts spread and grew like bread dough in an oven. In moments the twin mammaries were as high above the ground as Flora was tall, but the growth showed no signs in stopping. Quite the opposite, for the growth accelerated, the pale breasts seemed possessed to fill the courtyard with their mass. Walen wanted to do something, but it was clear he couldn't do anything at that point. Flora was already out of view, her extraordinary buxomness covering her from head to toe. A literal wall of flesh soon blocked Walen's view, and the concerned yet excited man stepped away from the entrance. He had to wonder just what kind of spell Flora casted. Surely a giant pair of breasts by themselves couldn't stop the Mildore army.

"What in the depths of the Red Hell is that?" Queen Vanilla said urgently. She shoved the spyglass into General Skrang's hands. "Tell me if you see what I've just seen."
    "Improbable as it may sound," said Skrang as he looked through the glass, "it appears to be two giant nipples atop a pair of equally giant breasts."
    "They are breasts," chimed Popo. He had his crystal ball out, getting a closer view of the strange scene. "Whatever spell she had in mind, it must've been a powerful one. Her breast growth is in direct relation to the strength of spell she would've cast."
    Vanilla could clearly see the burgeoning mass of Flora's glories above the palace walls. The nipples were erect and puffy, like those on a pregnant mother or excited lover. "Perhaps she intends to confuse our army in submission, or some other hair-brained strategy. General, don't let those breasts . . . What's this now?"
    Silence fell on the battlefield as the men of the Mildore army watched Flora's breasts swell up into the sky. The improbable nipples, thick as grand oak trees and as tall as three men, throbbed urgently. Without warning, twin white streams shot from those nipples, straight up into the sky. A huge, milky-white cloud formed over the palace, spreading in all directions so that the whole sky was of the same color.
    Vanilla grabbed the front of Popo's robe, pulling him up to her face. "Wizard, care to explain this? It looks very much like magic to me. Is this your work?"
    Keeping his feet from flailing, Popo looked levelly at Vanilla. "Most certainly not, my queen. It is magic, but not by my hand."
    The sensation of raindrops stopped Vanilla's reply in her throat. Gazing skyward, the exasperated queen watched as first drops, then curtains of what looked like rain came down on her head as well as her army. "What now? Does Flora intend to drown us?" She tasted the rain, then spitted. "It's not rain! Milk! It's milk that falling from sky. Milk from Flora's outrageous breasts!"
    "Milk, is it?" Popo stuck out his tongue so that he could taste the milkfall for himself. "Delicious. Any baby that partakes of this milk shall be satisfied."
    Skrang took over from Vanilla, lifting the wizard even higher off the ground. "What does this fall of milk mean, Popo?"
    "Look at your army, General. The answer is before you."
    Dropping the wizard like a dead rat, Skrang turned to look at his men. As far as he could see, the general saw soldiers lying on the ground. Checking those closest to him, Skrang noticed that the men were in deep slumber. His attempts to awaken them were futile. "They're sleeping like babes that have been breast-feed by their mothers. Popo, can you . . . " The milky rain had gotten the general, for he had joined his soldiers in their inadvertent slumber.
    Popo stood and took stock of the situation. Flora's magic had obviously been restored. The Mildore army was neutralized, and Glen troops were already rounding up their sleeping foe. The little wizard had no grudge against the princess, and he had been duly paid by Vanilla for his services. He saw no need to stay and be identified by the Glen troops. About to teleport away, Popo caught sight of Queen Vanilla. She, too, was asleep, but the milky rain had an additional effect on her. Breasts, breasts as big and full like the ones Princess Flora had earlier, graced the frame of the Mildore queen. Indeed, Vanilla's face looked softer and far more feminine. Her lips were red and pouty, and . . .
    Popo was one who never let a good opportunity go to waste. He and the queen teleported back to the Mildore palace. That evening, both the wizard and the queen made the most of the inadvertent gifts bestowed upon her by the Glen princess' magic milk.
 

[Epilogue]

"Don't stop there," commanded the child-swelled June, "finish the story."
    Greg kissed June on the cheek and caressed her left breast. "You can guess what the ending is, my dear. All such stories have a happy ending."
    "I still want to hear it."
    "If you insist. But I won't do the voices." Greg skimmed the last few paragraphs on the file pad. "With the now-peaceful Mildore army sent home, the kingdom of Green Glen returned to normal. Flora decided to keep her breasts the size of melons, seeing how much pleasure she got from them during her loveplay with Walen. A week after the palace battle the young couple was married. They had five children, all of which were richly fed on the breast milk of their most remarkable mother." Greg paused for a moment, skimming further down the pad. "The magical milk rain did more than put the Mildore army to sleep. It swept across the land and rained its peace on Mildore, making women and land alike rich and fertile. The newly-endowed Queen Vanilla made peace with Green Glen. In time, Vanilla was married and gave birth to four wonderful children."
    "What about that Popo character?" June rubbed Greg's belly. "He sounded like a fantasy version of Mr Big."
    "As for Popo," Greg said warmly, teasing June's left nipple, "he was never seen again in Green Glen or Mildore. It was rumored that he had retired somewhere in the north, deep in the Icewall Mountains, tended to by a harem of overly buxom women."
    "Hmm . . . When was the story written and by whom?"
    "Thirty years ago... 2401, authored by Tad Whittaker."
    June grunted. "That use to be one of Big's pen names. He had a hand when it came to writing erotic fiction."
    "It worked for me." Greg placed the pad on a night stand and shooed away the dachshund on June's feet. "Let's get you prepared for the task of breast feeding. It's just a darn shame you don't have any milk yet."
    With a supporting hand on the back of Greg's head, June drew her husband down to her right nipple. She gasped in delight as his lips met the turgid nub of flesh. "Like I said earlier, you wogger, with my luck I'll be full and leaking by next week. Perhaps I'll gain a few centimeters in bust size, despite the copious capacity I already possess."
    Greg lifted his lips clear of the nipple so he could speak. "Make that several dozen centimeters. You have the back for it."
    "Did I tell you to stop?" said a playful June. "Get back to work, you stand-in baby."
    "I shall do as my queen demands." Eventually, Greg worked on June's left nipple so both had an equal workout. June made sure Greg did his job throughly and completely. June never did anything halfway.
 
 

END

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