Cursed!

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In Boscovia the old magic runs deep and like most unwelcome ancient traditions, sticks around long past its expiration date. It’s a small country, a little to the east of Germany, a little to the west of Russia. One that you could look right over if you didn’t know what you were looking for. Sayra shivered as a chill breeze from the frozen section blew over her. Her light purple sweater did nothing to shield her from the cold. She pushed her cart away from the freezers and began moving again. Her grocery list was simple and most if it was already filling the cart she maneuvered around a tight corner. People flocked down the seemingly endless isles of the warehouse store she was in, huddling around the various sample givers. She cursed and tried to warm herself by rubbing her arms. She needed to get home so she’d have time to prepare for her dinner tonight. Gregory was a good man, a solid catch not the best looking but reliable and had a good job. She was thinking of bringing him to meet her parents soon. He had a daughter from another woman but the way he took care of her stirred her heart. Sayra almost felt bad about cheating on him. Almost. She brushed a blond hair out of her eyes, she was not a fan of her short hair and decided she needed to find a new hairdresser that wouldn’t decide to freestyle her haircut. She took one corner then the next looking for the milk. She glanced at her phone and then started in disbelief, she was going to be late!

Sayra pushed her cart faster quickening her step muttering apologies for cutting off a few people. She found herself back in the freezer section and bared herself to the cold. This store was massive and boasted every type of cheese or butter worth having. All Sayra wanted was the milk but she had to walk past what felt like a mile of cheese to get there. The cold dragged at her, made her want to curl up under a blanket with a cup of cocoa. Her face, normally alive with a quick smile, instead wore a scowl as if it was a permanent fixture. Her nose fell to the cold first, then her cheeks. Her nipples stiffened against her sweater as the cold cut through. She never needed to wear a bra and had never felt reason to do so. Her B cups, on a good day, usually kept to themselves.

She pushed ahead, determined. She didn’t care so much about making it to her date with Gregory on time, but she was concerned about missing her show right afterwards. Gregory would understand. Finally she spied the milk, she turned her cart in quickly.

“ACHI!” An old lady cursed loudly. In Sayra’s haste she had accidentally run over the woman’s foot. The older woman winced in pain. As Sayra looked on she felt a sense of dread. “Sorry mama,” She whispered the sentiment dying on her tongue. The crone gazed out of an ancient face, her skull cavernous with skin draped like ghosts of a forgotten era. She wore the head scarf of a traveling gypsy caravan.

“Clumsy bitch, running around with your tits out. Watch where you’re going.” The crone yelled in the old tongue. Sayra didn’t understand every word of the old tongue but understood enough to get the sentiment. She felt anger flare up within her at being late and impulsively lashed out. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so old and dirty you gypsy cunt.” Her brothers had taught her a few of those in the old tongue. Sayra threw open the glass case and grabbed the milk. Aghast the crone reeled. With the strength of a weightlifter and the quickness of a snake she grabbed Sayra’s hand. Sayra jerked and pulled her arm to no avail. The old woman traced the lines in her hand and looked up at her saying in the old tongue. “You mistreat everyone in your life.” She dropped Sayra’s hand then pointed at her whispering curses under her breath. A small crowd gathered and took note. Sayra blushed and said “I am sorry mama, I shouldn’t have said that.” She put the milk in her cart as the ancient woman’s tone changed to almost a chant. She guessed the english did not translate very well. The crone screeched loudly still pointing at Sayra. Sayra shrugged wishing this had never happened and that she could just vanish, she turned and tried to push through the crowd gathering around with her cart to no avail. The people were just not moving. The chanting in the old tongue grew louder. Sayra abandoned her cart just trying to push her way past. Hoping these were not gypsies like the crone.

From behind her in perfect english she heard the crone say.

“You wanted milk, so milk you shall have, you could not wait, so now you will do nothing but wait, you hurt everyone in your life, so now you shall do nothing but serve others until you learn your place.”

Sayra felt a strong wind blow through the market, she felt as if rain and lightning were falling all around her, she fell to the ground the unnatural wind swept down the aisle. Sayra shielded her face and eyes from the power of the wind. The wind picked her up and shoved her violently into a shelving unit. Steel flowed like vines around her body, wrapping and warping around her frame, trapping here in there. She tried to scream but nothing came out, she tried to move and could not budge. The metal tore at her clothing ripping them away. She sank deeper into the shelves becoming one with them. She could do nothing but watch as the crowd and gypsy crone gathered in front of her.

She pushed and pulled against the shelves nothing budging. She kicked and screamed to no casino oyna avail. From her vantage point she could see her naked body and out into the aisle looking down some forlorn row. Blank faces of a hypnotised crowd gathered around. Suddenly a warmth spread through her chest, a heat so nice against the cold enveloped her in a warm blanket. The crone chanted at her in the old tongue. Sayra tried to follow but was lost as the warmth took her. Down her torso she saw motes of fire dance and play, two centered above her nipples. She was not in pain but noted that as the chant drew to a close they left behind marks on her tan skin. The crone changed chants and larger motes of blue fire this time danced above her chest. Her torso was the only thing exposed, everything below her hips was sunk deep into the shelves. She felt the cool metal warming on her feet and thighs so they at least existed. The motes of blue fire grew, Sayra screamed and thrashed for all she was worth. The fire vanished but the chant intensified the crowd drawing closer.

Sayra saw before she felt her breasts expand. Outward her flesh flowed like a balloon filling with water. New flesh pressed against the cold metal. Her breasts grew and kept growing, B became C became D became some size unrecognizable. What worried her the most was not her original set. Breasts blossomed down her torso. Eight in total. They flowed forth from her chest like water from a burst dam. She was becoming a monster, a tit monster. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she thrashed in vain trying anything to escape. Sayra was stuck tight. As she watched her breasts expand she saw her nipples also growing. If she could have reached them she would find that they were each about ten centimeters long now. Her areolas easily fifteen in diameter across her massive breasts. She wept wishing Gregory would save her, wishing she had some way to call him. Sayra saw the crowd step back away from the shelf before she felt a sensation unlike anything she had before. She instinctively knew what it was because it could be nothing else. The sensation of the warmth of her breasts against the cool metal was washed away by a filling heat, a sloshing, a pool, an ocean barely kept in check by her nipples that gave way rapidly. The pool of milk spread out and down the aisle. Milk gushed forth, now flowing unimpeded. Sayra lost herself in the feeling of eight tits that would put any pornstar to shame spilling their sweet nectar down the aisle. She moaned against the steel gag in her mouth and tried to clamp her legs shut to stifle the sensations.

The crone looked at her and in perfect English said “When you have learned to wait you will be set free. I hope you learn it before you become nothing but a milk factory…”

Sayra cursed and thrashed in her bindings to no avail.

The crowd as if on queue snapped out of whatever spell they had been under. They dispersed pushing carts some remarking on the spilled puddle of milk. Some even laughed at the genius marketing display. “Fresh from the tap” they read aloud. Sayra cried for a long time before falling asleep hoping this was some nightmare from which she would wake.

Sayra awoke to the sounds of a mop noisily splashing into a bucket before returning to the floor. She opened her eyes and realized she was still in her own personal hell. From her view she saw a pair of causal blank pants and black shoes push around a mop, sopping up the puddle of milk and squeezing it into a bucket.

Sayra cursed and screamed trying to draw the person’s attention. Surely if she did they would cut her out of this. She begged and pleaded with God or anyone that would listen. She felt a painful pressure build in her chest and a wetness spread down her front. The mop bucket guy slowed and laughed reading the sign… “Fresh from the tap, ey? Clever bastards. Looks like they overfilled you, but don’t worry I’ll have you cleaned up in a jiffy.” Sayra felt a cloth gently wipe her down carefully cleaning in between each of her tits. She calmed down and felt soothing relief wash over her. She enjoyed this more than she liked to admit. After a minute the man finished and put the rag back on his cart.

“Now then… let’s see how fresh from the tap you are…” The voice said. In a second the man’s head came into view, average looking, older than primary school. Sayra had no idea who he was but was thankful that someone listened to her prayer. She screamed and thrashed trying anything to get the man’s attention. Nothing worked. He took her elongated nipple into his mouth. Heat and warmth enveloped her nipple and her breath caught. It felt devine. He pulled deeply her nipple sinking into his mouth and almost down his throat. Her milk flowed eagerly forth and he drank deeply. Sayra moaned into her gag. She had never felt this kind of stimulation before. Never knew her nipples could be so… orgasmic. The man rolled her nipple around in his mouth pulling and suckling. Sayra’s eyes rolled involuntarily. She loved this and wanted more. She urged him on, to look up, to notice her looking back at him, anything but just continue pulling.

The man pulled his mouth off with a pop. A trail of milk dripping from his bearded lips which he wiped away. The man said aloud “Mmm, that is fresh… I am going to have to get some of that for the apartment.” He whistled a jaunty tune, cleaned Sayra’s used nipple and pushed his maintenance canlı casino cart away. Sayra cried and screamed trying in vain to get him to notice her. She cried again, deep and sobbing. Some time later the lights shut off leaving her in darkness.

Sayra awoke to the sound of voices, the pattering of feet, and the rolling of cart wheels, their endless squeaking waking her from her slumber. She saw a rough hand reach down to one of her nipples, teats more like as she saw him lift them into view, and an empty jug. She winced as he pulled on her teat way too hard. She gasped into her gag as he pulled her milk forth with an untrained hand. She felt pressure almost to the point of pain in her breasts, all except for the one the man was tugging on. She cursed into her bindings. A minute rolled by and the man finished up, capping the full jug and putting it in his cart. Seconds later another person an older woman whose hands were cold repeated the process on another of her breasts. Soon a person joined the woman down the line, then another. The sensation of three people milking her at a time was too much, it almost left her drooling. From somewhere deep in the shelving rack she could feel herself warming up. The woman left and was replaced by two more. She moaned into the gag as the pressure she felt was relieved and replaced by a tingling flow from her many teats. She pushed her legs together trying to deny the sensation but was soon overwhelmed. She came and milk erupted from her teats, overfilling bottles and sending some from the untapped teats to the floor. Sayra drooled against her gag. As one of the men left, then another, then the last two. She was alone again now wishing for their return. A small puddle formed from the letdown of two of her untapped breasts. The pressure had become painful as they overfilled. Hours passed and the occasional person came and went. The pressure returned to another two of her breasts. The two untapped became increasingly sensitive and then painful. She winced as some unknown patron unknowingly and mercifully drained one of them. Hours passed or minutes she could not tell. It always looked like the same time of day in this accursed warehouse. She came again when a group came in filling and taking away a least five jugs from her various teats. By what she guessed was night time she was thoroughly drained except for her one untapped breast. She was resting quietly, thinking of any way she could get out but mostly trying to forget the constant pain in her breast. She heard the maintenance cart roll up and stop. It’s wheels had a distinctive squeek to them. Black shoes had changed pants. He looked her over, rubbed her down with a rag, and noting the full and leaking breast pinched her nipple. Rolled it around in his fingers, spraying her milk onto the floor before filling a jug of his own from it. Sayra cried tears of happiness that he had helped her. Once the jug was full he capped it and bent down to clean up the mess on the floor. His eyes locked with Sayra’s.

“What the fuck!?” He screamed out before smashing his head into the shelf and collapsing backwards. Sayra rolled her eyes. Sometime later the man woke up groggily. “What the fuck. Ow.” Black shoes, coughed and looked around before ducking back under the shelf looking around. His gaze locked with Sayra’s again. “What in the shit.” Sayra blinked at him thrashing around not budging in the least. “Well I’ll be damned. It is fresh from the tap… as advertised. What will they think of next.” Black shoes laughed. Sayra cried in frustration. “Hey you comfortable in there?” he asked. Sayra yelled nothing coming out. She blinked at him furiously. “Ok I am not sure what you’re trying to say.” Black shoes said. “Blink once for yes, two for no.”

Sayra blinked twice. “I am not sure what to do here. I can’t exactly rip up these shelves, and I can’t call the police. I am… how to say this… I can’t lose this job and I can’t cause any problems for my boss. So whatever got you into this situation is going to have to get you out.”

Sayra blinked twice at him again. “No?” Sayra blinked once. “Listen weird lady, I don’t know what kind of kinky stuff is going on here but a woman with eight tits aint natural, and unless you’d like me to rearrange the shelves and put a box over your pretty head, I’d suggest not causing any problems. Ok?”

Sayra blinked once a fresh tear falling from the corner of her eyes. “Aww don’t look at me like that. I am sorry. Are you hungry?” Sayra blinked twice and thought about it for a second, she had not eaten anything for over a day and a half nor had she drank anything.

“Alright well, give me a few minutes, I am going to pull out some of the pallets on the other side and see if I can do anything to help.” Sayra tried her best to smile and blinked once.

Black shoes vanished and true to his word a few minutes later she felt a gentle breeze on her naked backside. She heard a whistle through the shelving unit and heard Black Shoes crawl his way back inside the shelving unit. “Man it’s kinda cramped but roomy back in here. Hold on.” Sayra felt a hand on her naked ass as the man adjusted his position pulling himself upright. He must have realized what he was holding onto as he patted it gently when he stood up. “Damn you’re in there good. I don’t know what kind of fucked up shit is going on but it is going to take a few guys with angle grinders days to get you kaçak casino out of this. Let me try to…” Sayra felt pain in her leg as Black shoes pulled and prodded and bent. She was stuck fast and he was figuring that out.

“Ok… shit. I gotta… You’re definitely in there. Let me come around to the front.” Black shoes jogged around the aisle. He bent down and looked at her. “You’re in there alright and I don’t think you’re going to be able to get out anytime soon, understand?” Sayra blinked twice. “Listen lady, you don’t have a choice. I can’t cause a problem for my boss and an 8 breasted woman trapped in a shelving unit will be all over the news forever as a sign of some sort of gypsy magic. Ok?” Sayra blinked twice again. Black shoes sighed. “Alright, I am going to get you out of this, I promise. It is just going to take some time. Are you in pain?” Sayra blinked twice.

“Awesome. And you aren’t thirsty or hungry. Are you in any discomfort… ” Sayra blinked once. “Can I do anything about it?” Sayra blinked once. “Ok, is it your breasts?” She blinked twice. “Your back side?” She blinked twice. “What, neck, head, feet?” She blinked twice. “There’s nothing else what do you mean no. Are you in any physical discomfort?” Sayra blinked twice. “Ah, yes you’re not in physical discomfort but emotional you don’t want to be stuck here right?” She blinked once. Black shoes rolled his eyes. “Well there’s not much I can do about that tonight. I am going to grab a few things to help you out then I have to finish closing the store. I am going to put together some tools I can pilfer from the damaged goods and open box returns and see if I can get you out with those.” With that Black shoes stood watching not to bang his head and left. Sayra closed her eyes trying to block out the ever present glow of the industrial lights from the warehouse ceiling reflecting off the polished concrete. Her situation had improved but not by much.

Black Shoes returned and bent down again looking at her. “I got a few things but I am not sure… now that I am looking at them…” he looked at the items in his hands and laughed hesitantly. He dropped a book and settled on a portable dvd player. He set it down in front of her and smiled. She blinked once and he hit play. It was a James Bond film. Sayra didn’t necessarily like James Bond but was thankful for some relief of the boredom. He hit play and then play again. The sound of the movie spread out from the shelf. “Oh no… Can’t have that drawing attention. I am going to grab something one second.” Black shoes shuffled off before returning with a pair of headphones. He plugged them in and put them on Sayra’s head. “Ok I am going to go close up the store. I am going to have to close your butt in again until I can get you out tomorrow?”

Sayra blinked once, his voice muffled against the sound of the film, and with that Black shoes pushed his cart away vanishing. Some time later he came by again his steps hesitant as if he was trying to be quiet. He bent down shoving a small box into the opening where Sayra had been viewing the aisle sealing her off from the outside. She cursed and screamed to no avail. Eventually the lights shut off and she was alone with Pierce Brosnan. Goldeneye was at least a decent film. Sayra blinked and if she could yawn she would have. The dvd ran through the credits and she closed her eyes to drift off to sleep. A scene from the dvd repeated the score dashing to and fro. Sayra opened her eyes. The dvd had returned to the menu screen where the title theme repeated on an endless loop while some sexed up woman trode across the screen. “The name is Bond James bond.” The menu repeated.

Sayra rolled her eyes and cursed her luck. The dvd player was going to keep repeating this stupid title sequence until it ran out of batteries. This was pure torture. At some point she passed out from exhaustion. The next day came and went like the last had. She felt stimulation to the Goldeneye title track. It lost its novelty sometime during the first milking of the day. If she could reach the damn thing she could turn it off, instead she was having her nipples toyed with and pulled on beyond the point of orgasm. She her heaving breasts rise and fall with her breath. The metal around her still cool to the touch, her proximity to the freezers kept her teats in an almost constant state of erection. It felt good to be drained. Good to be milked. Sayra’s eyes unfocused and brain wandered with the almost hypnotic, repeating music in her head. She felt herself losing touch, focusing on the only thing that mattered, sending her milk forth into the world. She moaned into the gag losing herself as she was fondled. Heat rising around her, passion and lust enveloping her. She tried a different approach of rubbing herself against her confinement desperate for any stimulation for her nethers. She felt a nub just the right size near her clit, she bent and bucked her hips for all she was worth just barely reaching the rounded nub with her clit. She moaned and bucked again, milk spraying her milkers, running down their hands and dripping to the floor. She wanted more, more hands more people milking her, more hands playing with her teats. A small puddle formed beneath her heaving mouths as she panted around the gag trying desperately for more. She willed more people to come over and play with her, she begged and pleaded. She bucked her hips again, edging further towards climax. She came and sent all but the bravest milker scrambling away. She sprayed milk into the aisle as the orgasm washed over her. She drooled heavily around the gag loving the letdown from her teats.

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