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The energy built up fast and then, with a flash of burning heat, she felt it shoot up into her body through her finger and down into her core. Instinctively she pulled her hand back from the inscriptions but it was far too late, whatever magic it contained had already been transferred to her.
Even as she was pulling back she felt it starting to affect her: a quick swelling of pleasure inside her body. She felt her womanhood moisten and begin to drip just as there was a new flaring of pleasure, intense enough to force her to climax.
Grinding her thighs together and moaning in confusion and pleasure she stumbled back from the wall, staring helplessly at the words and realizing she had fallen for some magical trap. But a single forced orgasm was not all she was to suffer through. As soon as it had begun to subside another exploded in her core, sending draining, powerful pleasure flowing through her body.
Her legs were weak. The orgasms were so powerful and so forced it felt as though they drained her very life essence. She dropped to her knees, moaning helplessly and looking up at the wall before her. The writing… it was calling to her. As a third orgasm wracked her body she found she couldn’t look away from the writing, found she had to start reading it aloud again.
“I am a slut and I deserve to cum,” said weakly, the sentence punctuated by a forced orgasm. “I am a whore and I deserve to cum,” she quickly added, another orgasm forced from her body as she said the words. “I am a fucktoy and I deserve to cum,” she mumbled weakly, with another draining orgasm at the end. On and on she went, reading each sentence and then cumming over and over again.
As she knelt she realized something else was wrong. Yes, the repeated forced orgasms were sapping her of her energy but the weakness was more than that. She felt a growing heaviness. Slowly she realized it was her breasts… they were getting heavier! No, not just heavier but bigger! Looking down, no longer needing to stare at the wall to repeat the words for she had them memorized, she kept reciting them and cumming over and over again. And with each orgasm she saw her already enlarged breasts growing bigger and bigger, and BIGGER!
She recited the words, cumming over and over again, as her breasts swelled to inhumanly large size. Soon each blue mound of tit-meat was as large as her entire torso, huge heavy mounds of flesh that pooled up in her lap and that only kept growing larger and larger. Before long their weight was too much to even sit, she was pulled down to the ground by their impossible size and weight.
Ryvlull lay on her side, the mounds of soft breast flesh piled up beside her, one impossibly massive tit sitting atop the other. She was still reciting the words, but she did so quietly now for she was so drained she could barely speak. Her body slumped and slowly her voice died, yet she continued to recite the words in her head and thus kept cumming which made her breasts grow ever larger.
The pleasure and the changes to her body were too much and the Night Elf ice mage’s mind was nearly broken by the ordeal. She lay, drooling and convulsing with each forced orgasm, the words repeating in her head now just background noise to a mind barely about to think. Her tits were colossally gigantic, laying on the ground beside her and each looking as if they took up the same area as the rest of her body. Her eyes were open, but only barely so and it was clear that without the aid of another this would be the end of her.
As her addled mind finally stopped reciting the words, and thus her breasts stopped growing, a shadowed figure emerged from behind her. Drooling, her barely open eyes glassy, she looked up at it and moaned helplessly.
The figure knelt down beside her. Even in the direct light of the torches lighting the ancient temple the figure seemed to still be only a shadow as if it wasn’t really there. It moved down, leaning in to whisper in Ryvlull’s ear and as it did its ghostly hands reached out and began to caress her gigantic mounds of breast flesh.
“No amount of tit-meat is ever enough,” the shadow whispered to her.
Ryvlull shifted slightly, trying to look at the shadow but finding her eyes couldn’t focus on the figure. But the whispered words helped her mind clear and the caress of her breasts made some of the exhaustion her body felt leave. The figure’s presence was incredibly reassuring and its attention comforting. The words it had said echoed in her mind and she found them to be self evidently true.
“Yes,” she whispered back, her voice weak and barely audible. “No amount of tit-meat is ever enough.”
“That’s right,” the shadow said soothingly, caressing her breasts some more.
Ryvlull moaned in delight at the touch and felt the tender soreness that ached through the enlarged breast-meat lessen and then disappear completely. She even felt as though the breasts were shrinking back down a little, although she wasn’t certain.
“These mounds of tit-meat, they are a blessing,” the shadow said. “They are the key to freeing me.”
She nodded. “Yes, a blessing. The key to freeing you.” The shadow was right, the breasts were important, they needed to be this huge. She saw that now. But who was this shadowed figure? She still couldn’t make out any details. Even the voice seemed formless, she couldn’t even tell if it was male or female.
“Soon I shall leave you. You’ll feel yourself re-energized, refreshed. My blessing shall be upon you and the weight of your tit-mountains will be gone. To you they will feel no heavier then your tiny natural breasts felt. And this will seem normal to you. Your breasts being so large they hang down to an inch from the ground when you stand will seem right, proper and natural. When I am gone you shall rise, you shall move with ease and grace. And you shall press on, to find my prison so that you can release me.”
She nodded. “Yes… I shall rise. I shall press on. I shall free you.”
The shadow started to pull away. Just as it said she felt refreshed. The huge mounds of sagging, wide, fat, blue-skinned tit-meat hanging from her chest felt so light it was like they weren’t there. She sat up, the soft mounds of flesh shifting and oozing into her lap. “Wait!” she called to the shadow as it began to disappear. “Who or what are you?”
“A prisoner,” the formless voice whispered as the shadow started to fade from sight. “An ancient god imprisoned here countless ages ago. Slowly I’ve used my power to weaken my prison. I was able to send this sliver of my essence to give you my blessing. Now you must save me, Ryvlull. You must free me…” With a final sigh the voice was gone and the shadow no more.
She stood, a strange sight to behold. Each of her swollen blue breasts were so large that their mass was far more than her torso and when standing they hung heavily down to just above the ground. They should have been too large and heavy for the thin Night Elf to manage, impossibly large breasts seemingly too big to exist. Yet she moved as if they weren’t even there, moved as though their weight was not felt by her. When she stood she was more breast than woman yet she showed no sign of feeling their presence.
It was as if she was a new woman. There was a fire in her eyes now, the determination only the devoutly faithful felt. She grabbed her gear and turned to face the passageway before her, seemingly not caring she was topless and impossibly largely titted. Then, moving as though driven magically forward, she pressed on. The massive mounds of hanging tit-meat swayed as she went, shifting from side to side and at times the bottom of them even brushing against the stone floor, but she showed no sign of being affected by their weight or size. She moved forward as if in a trance, pressing on to free the ancient god imprisoned ahead.
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