A Change In Paradigm (Commission for @RachelMinoka)

TAGS: Argonian, Breast Expansion, Hyper/Hyper Growth, Macro/Macro Growth, Milk/Lactation

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An assignment like any other; Daree would even go as far as to suggest that it was easier than most of the jobs she was offered, which was saying something considering most of the bounties open to someone like her tended to be on the worst end of the monotonous. No one liked to think an Argonian such as herself would be the sort to clear out a stronghold without even breaking a sweat; one look at her body and most folk would immediately think that she was an exotic dancer or something far more unsavoury, given the generous proportions of her hips, thighs, and especially her chest-obscuring bust. To a certain extent, Dareexa herself went a great way to perpetuate this belief; it made people struggle less when she got near them, making it significantly easier to scarf them down if needed. When coming out of the barrow, however, the adventuress had very little to her aside from a few bruises, a couple dozen dead draugr, and not a single snack in her belly; she wasn’t one for long-dessicated flesh, leaving her to do nothing but chug potions whenever the hunger struck. The one exception was an odd vial she’d found in a side room filled with soul gems and a working enchantment table, one that even her keen eye couldn’t identify: it felt like it was swirling with restoration magicks, with a slight twinge of alteration thrown in for good measure, making it a rare and somewhat difficult to pin down combination. Naturally, she drank it without a moment’s hesitation; she’d had worse in far more dangerous places, so surely something like that wouldn’t even begin to affect her in any meaningful way. Indeed, she went through the rest of the barrow without so much as a slight pang of pain, the only noticeable sensation being an overall sense of fullness to her that made her think the unknown potion was probably some form of nourishment in liquid form. It wasn’t until she was free from the tunnels and back into the great outdoors that Daree noticed she felt somewhat heavier than before; looking down at her bust, the Argonian squinted, trying to ascertain whether it had actually bloated or not, only to come up… inconclusive. She gave her tits an experimental heft, but if there was anything extra there, it was indistinguishable from her usual weight, and there being plenty of it, she assumed it was just her exhaustion getting to her; better to focus on getting back home before night fell and she had to waste time with wolves who thought she’d make easy prey. Plus, there was a mountain pass off to the northeast that usually had a handful of bandits covering it, giving Daree something to eat before locking her front door behind her. A couple of hours later, she was waddling through the front gates of Whiterun, once more scaring the living daylights out of the guards when walked up to them bearing a belly stuffed so hard that it outsized most of them, still wriggling as its contents struggled to find a nonexistent way out. Getting through the door and into her home was always a struggle, but it was what made it worth it; once she was on her best, widest chair and lounging by the fire, hands on her gut to feel as it slowly drained down, that was the best she could possibly be. Even better was how her body had become so accustomed to the cycles of filling and digestion that it had become exceedingly efficient at reprocessing what she ate: while the fat would burn off of her relatively quickly given how she was constantly on the move, there was always something so deeply satisfying about feeling her thighs fatten in real time, and her tits filling out as more pudge settled on them. It was enough to get Daree to miss the fact that her bust was growing slightly more than it technically should, with the sounds of gurgling coming from down below masking the quiet sloshing emanating from her breasts; indeed, she dozed off to sleep still sitting on her throne, not realizing that the potion she drank back at the barrow was still working through her, doing things to her body she would’ve never guessed possible. She slept well that night, dreaming of vague and abstract notions of fullness and warmth, of being adrift in an ocean that she couldn’t quite identify the make of; she heard the crashing of waves and roiling of currents, and if not for the fact that she was so tired she could sleep through an earthquake, Daree would’ve noticed the thin trickles of actual cream flowing down her side, or the increasing difficulty she had in drawing a breath. Instead, she woke up several hours past when she usually would, feeling like she’d just gone through a whole day rather than just a single morning; with nothing scheduled for that afternoon, her brain must’ve figured it could afford to lose some time, and it was with a great deal of grogginess that the Argonian slumped off to the side, only then realising she wasn’t on her bed. Chuckling to herself, Dareexa tried getting up… and promptly failed. She tried again, and once more something kept her pinned down to her seat, though what that was, she couldn’t tell; still half-asleep, her eyes barely open, the adventuress kept insisting, and every time the universe slapped her back onto her chair and told her to stay still, driving her up the wall with what she assumed was going to be a cramp. It took a while for her to actually look down at herself properly, at which point it stopped being about looking down and more about looking forward. There, taking up far more of her field of view than they had any right to, were her tits: wide enough to not just fill up her lap, not just spill over the arms of her chair, but to practically ooze down onto the floor and down her legs, completely immobilising her with their absurd weight! It wasn’t just fat either; though she couldn’t see it, Daree could absolutely feel the warm milk running down what had to be a pair of fist-sized nipples somewhere out in front, pooling around her feet and staining her legs whenever a spurt splattered on the floor hard enough. And with each moment that passed, it only became worse; only after waking up did the Argonian notice that her tits were actually bloating, slowly swelling outwards with every second that ticked away. It wasn’t enough that it would leave her completely buried any time soon, but she was already stuck on her (dangerously groaning) chair, and wasn’t likely to get away from it without some expert assistance… and she just happened to be stuck inside her home with no one to help. Grumbling to herself, Dareexa turned to face the bookshelf she kept next to the fireplace, an unorthodox choice were it not for her enjoying a good book by the fire on account of her reptilian nature; there were nothing but stolen tomes in there, though Daree herself would call them “reappropriated”, given that she usually ripped them off the hands of some very pissed of Daedra or the occasional undead sorcerer. One in particular, however, stood out from the rest, one whose position on the shelf was always identifiable even if the spine was covered and the whole section covered up with a wooden board (she’d checked): the Oghma Infinium. To most, this volume was something not to be uttered by or even thought of by mortal minds; the dread halls of the library of Hermaeus Mora were not a concept that should be considered, let alone have a handy compendium kept of next to cooking recipes and a map of the region. But for Daree, having that book to begin with was just proof of her dominion over the Daedra lord, even if in just her own little mortal way; she’d get a further one-up on him eventually, but for the time being, having that thing in her house was good enough. She’d avoided using it though, knowing that giving Mora a further hold over her was a terrible idea… but what else was she supposed to do, now that her tits were so stuffed she couldn’t move? She’d poured through the tome before, when the thought of her productivity going wild crossed her mind, and had bookmarked a very specific passage just for an occasion such as that one; she wasn’t expecting to become a hyperproductive dairy cow any time soon, but given how milky she was on a regular basis, it’d be insanity not to draw up contingencies. Unfortunately, the only plan she had on backup was a particular incantation which would, at best, serve as a stopgap measure until she could complete a more complex ritual; she had no clue how far this excess productivity would go, but she wouldn’t be able to do anything else until she could move again; thus, with a snap of her fingers and a weaving of her magickal ability, the Argonian adventuress summoned up… two pasties. There was a slight hint of a blush on her cheeks when Daree moved to pick them up, inspecting the spots where the small objects were meant to go on… well, one knew where. It was just her luck that the Daedric lord who most appreciated appearing as a writhing mass of tentacles would have a sense of humour so childish and borderline creepy, but, then again, beggars couldn’t be choosers; if she’d performed the incantation correctly, all she had to do was place the pasties on their proper place, plug herself up, and let them do the rest. Grimacing, Daree threw the pasties in the air and waved her hand, having them move towards her nips; a second later, they vanished beyond the curve of her bust, and a second after that, her whole body was coursed with two jolts of electricity as the pasties put themselves in their proper place in quick succession. Almost immediately after, the Argonian noticed her bloating… stopped. It was counter-intuitive: she was plugged, therefore, she should be swelling further. Instead, the pasties ensured that anything coming out of her would be promptly shunted off to Mora’s realm, dumped into an endless, bottomless ocean that was more than happy to take further contributions. Simultaneously, seeing as the pasties themselves were equipped with at least a small part of Mora himself, that tingling sensation Daree was feeling was… well, she knew that what was actually happening involved a lot more tentacles and significantly more stretching to make way for the dairy flood, but she’d rather not think about it; rather, there were better things to focus on, like how her tits were finally shrinking and the weight of them was falling with each passing second. Soon enough, the two mounds would only be large enough to drop down to her lap, and sooner still they were coming back to their old, original size, giving the Argonian access to her nipples once again; she knew better than to touch them though, not when the pasties were still working their magic. Best to leave them there and hope for the best, while getting up to start preparing the proper containment ritual. The summoned plugs alone wouldn’t be enough to hold back the tide forever: Daree needed something more involved in order to push her productivity back down, and for that, more complex incantations were required, ones she couldn’t perform while sitting down on a chair pinned down by a pair of milky tits. It was just her luck, however, that when she did get up, the lizardess didn’t find her centre of gravity where it used to be; rather, the moment she stretched her back, she almost instantly tipped forward, catching herself at just the right time to prevent a full pratfall. She didn’t know where it all came from, and it wouldn’t be until several seconds later that Daree came to note that her tits weren’t the same size they had been the moment she got up from her chair; she’d expected the pasties to work and keep working, just as they appeared to at first, but looking back down at her bust, it was evident that it was, once again, growing. Bloating, to be more precise, filling with milk once again, despite the fact that the summoned plugs were still most definitely doing their job; one could be forgiven for thinking otherwise, but the Argonian could feel their greedy tentacles worming their way inside her, opening her nipples up to let the flow through. They were doing exactly what they had been summoned to do, and to the best of their ability as well… it just wasn’t enough. The thought was at once terrifying and enticing, with Dareexa knowing damn well it should not be the latter; she shouldn’t be looking at her tits, swelling up with milk faster than ever before, and thinking that she kinda sorta wanted them to go faster. She shouldn’t be standing there, waiting for it to happen, locked in place by a refusal to seek aid and a deep, almost overwhelming desire to watch herself grow beyond all measure, even past the point she had when she woke up just a few minutes prior. Yet, she did, and she was, because what else was she going to do? Straightening out her back only let her feel the weight even more, pulling down on her, forcing her to bend over, inviting her to kneel on the ground and feel as her tits burgeoned outwards with size and capacity; on the other hand, that she could keep her back straight gave her a certain measure of pleasure all on its own: it was dominion over herself, the notion that, despite everything, she was still in control… and she was very, very hungry. Perhaps it was the milk production, most likely it was the arousal driving her to do things she normally wouldn’t, but a simple summoning spell was all she needed to call up a couple of Daedra into her home, both of whom were very confused as to why they’d been whisked away by a naked Argonian milkmaid, only to then immediately be devoured without the slightest amount of ceremony. The last thing they saw was the bottom of the throat, before their attempts at vanishing back into their realm were stopped by some unseen force; they still tried, being as used to a cheap, easy death as they were, but the harder they attempted to pierce the veil, the further they found themselves unable to do so, until all they were left with was the certainty of a stomach, churning as they approached it, and the hunger of some random mortal who, for some reason, somehow, had bested them before they had a chance to react. To Daree, of course, the whole thing was over in five or so seconds: summon, open mouth, shove in mouth, swallow, with everything else being nothing but pointless minutiae she could afford not to worry about. What mattered was that her hunger was abated… though, at the same time, perhaps eating a couple of Daedra after summoning two pasties from Mora’s realm had not been the best of ideas. As her tits began swelling faster still, the Argonian was left wondering whether the whole thing had been a genuine mistake, or if her mind had played a trick on her, making her think she was doing something proper while actually setting herself up for further “disaster”; whatever the case, it was clear to her that her bust was swelling up quicker than before, with the weight not so much becoming insurmountable as it did… slightly uncomfortable. It made her want to sit down, but, above all else, it made her want to lounge; it left Daree feeling like she had earned the right to slump back on her throne and let things happen, and if it just so turned out that her tits grew until they were too big for her to stand again, well, then clearly it was fate, wasn’t it? She’d gone out of her way to use the Infinium to cover for her productivity, so clearly, if that wasn’t enough, nothing would be; best if she just grew to accept that (and quite literally, at that) and stop worrying about what might happen, since, very obviously, what was about to happen was her milkers were going to keep bloating until they were spilling onto the ground, and that was fine. More than fine, in fact; it felt as if her back wasn’t anywhere close to breaking, and as soon as she came to understand that the need to lie down and let herself be pushed up by a bed of breasts was purely psychological, Daree felt… liberated. Even when the underside of her bust encroached upon her waistline and inevitably went past it, even after the amount of backboob on either side of her torso reached one foot and kept going, she didn’t want it to stop; indeed, after finding herself back on her throne, the Argonian came to realise that, perhaps, she’d be better served getting on her bed instead: not only did it offer more room, but it’d be better support for when her breasts were so heavy that she couldn’t move anymore. Plus, as soon as her ass sank into the soft sheets, a wonderful idea came to her: she had someone assigned to her for her services to Whiterun, and while she very rarely made use of her personal guard, she still had enough authority to call them and send them off on errands so long as they were deemed important for matters of the city. And if that meant politely asking them to go fetch someone because “Mistress Daree” needed to have a quick word with them, then it wasn’t really their place to question it, nor should they stick around to ask why it was their assigned lady had her tits thrice as big as usual or a look on her face that went right past predatory. Nor was it the guard’s job to pipe up and wonder why the people they were bringing over to the house never seemed to come back out, and Daree’s belly only bloated and swelled bigger with each visit; really, it wasn’t their job to do anything other than follow orders, until eventually they were told to close the door behind them on the way in, and the last thing they remembered was a bright flash of magick before all control left their muscles. As for the Argonian herself, her day ended with her buried underneath two distinct sets of weights: her tits up top, and the colossal gut right underneath them. She knew that she was going to regret it; the next morning, her eyes would open and her ass was going to be too large to fit through doors… but, at the same time, her tits were going to be bigger anyway, so why worry? Best to make good use of all that warm gurgling and let it rock her to sleep, a smile on her face as she licked her lips clean of whatever might still be left on them. That night, too, she dreamt of being full: of being massive and incomprehensibly powerful, of producing so much milk that it ran over the landscape, of growing so quickly that even the most powerful magi in the College weren’t able to stop her, or even slow her down! She dreamt of the panicked screams, of the peoples of Skyrim scattering to the winds as her tits barrelled through the landscape, filling hold after hold, flattening even the Throat of the World underneath their gargantuan heft. And in them, oceans of milk, roiling, churning, possessed of currents far more powerful than anything in existence, ones to match and surpass the flow of magicka in the heavens above; she dreamt of it, not knowing that such a reality was mirrored outside her head, not knowing that mere minutes after she fell asleep, the roof of her house was pierced through by her nipples, and the growth had barely just begun by then. She slept soundly, thoroughly unaware of how Whiterun was placed on high alert, how the guards were sent towards her in a vain and ultimately futile attempt and getting her to stop growing, only to immediately come to understand that there was nothing they could do. She slept, and for eight hours, her body billowed outwards with nothing and no one to keep it in check… and this wouldn’t change once Daree returned to the waking world. If anything, her finally opening her eyes and getting a good look at the mammothian wall of breastflesh she had in front of her only served to leave her even hornier than before, not at all helped by how a great part of her simply assumed it had to be her imagination rather than reality. People weren’t supposed to grow that big, so it had to be a dream; a good dream, and one most likely influenced by Mora thanks to her rampant abuse of their property, but a dream regardless, and one she had no intention of ever waking up from if she had the chance. She couldn’t even feel specific parts of her tits anymore; they were sensitive, absolutely so, but there was only so much one could do when one’s brain had to deal with literally dozens of miles’ worth of nerve endings all screaming in unison, a billion climaxes happening at once. She was vaguely aware of towns and villages being made to vanish underneath her bust, of city walls crumbling as she approached them, of rivers overflowing with her milk, of dragons being knocked out of the sky once they foolishly tried to fight back against the encroaching avalanche of Daree. All of them would fail, of course; this was her dream now, and she’d be damned if she was going to let something as silly as opponents get in the way of it. She hadn’t before, so why should she now? Her preferred approach to any dungeon that didn’t have undead in it was to just open her mouth and devour whoever was inside anyway, so why not take it up and notch and consume the entirety of Skyrim while she was at it? Might as well go all the way and start acting the way she was entitled to, rather than bending the knee and pretending like she recognised the authority of anyone other than herself. Whiterun had fallen, and by the time the Argonian adventuress took stock of herself, she figured she must be halfway to the Reach, if not already encroaching upon its borders; soon enough, all of the north would be unified under the one banner no one would be able to dispute, for there would be none left to do so. None left to fight against her, for all would be welcomed into her body in one way or another; yes, the pasties were still there, and their hungry mouths wider than ever, but she was an accomplished sorceress, and, again, this was her dream. In there, she was Amaranth, and if anyone was going to decide what shape reality took, it was going to be her; forget the Brass Tower, she was going to snap her fingers and unmake things, then remake them in her image, and if anyone had anything to say about it, they didn’t.

She wasn’t done growing, she wasn’t done filling, and, judging by how the world rumbled around her, she wasn’t done thoroughly destabilising the very underlying structure of Nirn. Maybe in a couple of days she’d be well enough to transfer over to her own Daedric realm, but, in the meantime, she still had more growing to do.

It was so early in the morning, after all…