Rose Lalonde, Part 2

Rose had thought that finishing draining Roxy might have slaked her thirst, but instead she found that when both of her dancestor’s breasts were drained she felt even hungrier than before.

Roxy’s rich milk had helped the betentacled girl put on quite a bit of weight. Her previous potbelly was now a full-blown gut, and her mass of swarming limbs had fattened up and lengthened considerably.

Eagerly, she lifted her mother’s breast to her mouth. The wait meant that her breasts were engorged to the point of nearly bursting, and as soon as her lips touched her nipple milk started flooding out. Rose moaned appreciatively at the flavor – it was noticeably richer and fattier than Roxy’s milk had been, but it was hard to say if that was because her mother was intrinsically more delicious or some quirk of the magic.

She could feel her body changing as she drank. Obviously, she was gaining more weight – Rose’s belly now probably weighed more than her entire body had when she’d died – but other transformations were also occurring. Her breasts, which before had simply gained some of the overall fat she was putting on, were now showing some major growth, pressing against her hands as they started to outrace her grip.

Rose groaned as she felt a pressure building there, and began squeezing her coke-can sized nipples in anticipation. Sure enough, after another gallon of rich, magical milk had flowed past her lips, Rose’s own milk began gushing forth. It poured out in two steady streams, drenching Roxy, who was lying amongst Rose’s tentacles, attempting to finish draining her own breasts and earning a huge potbelly of her own for her efforts.

Rose’s tentacles continued to grow longer and longer, and soon she passed thirty feet from head to tip, her entire body not merely fatter but larger, engorged with growth. She had been big before, but now she positively dwarfed her two companions. Her ass was wider than Roxy was tall; a single tentacle longer than her mother’s considerable height.

Finally, Rose finished with her mother’s breasts. Automatically, she deposited her into the growing puddle of her own milk and rose to her full new height. Her breasts were still gushing milk, seemingly inexhaustibly, and Rose wondered to what purpose the Horrorterrors were exerting their magical influence on her, to change her into this shape.

That was the long-term concern, anyway. If Rose were honest with herself, however, she would admit that the true question on her mind was: I wonder what would happen if I drank from my own breast.