Amie's Charm

1. The Drain

Amie turned to close the wooden door to her rented room. As a traveling apprentice of the Scholar's Guild she often made do with the barest accommodations; this backwater country inn was certainly no exception. The door was mounted on a sliding rail, unusual in her travels but stirring fond memories of a dairy farm near the Guild where she'd sometimes wander in her free time. She smiled as the door slid closed with a satisfying *thunk* and turned to face her room.

Immediately she noticed that the stone floor was of peculiar construction, angling down from all four corners towards a small drain in the center of the room. Atop a small table next to a generously-sized bed, she spotted a familiar-looking large metal bucket. Despite her curiosity, she couldn't give her room much more thought, as a distracting pressure in her bosom had been building for hours into a more urgent problem. Two problems, really.

The roads in this remote southern kingdom had been treacherous and slick with rain, so she had not stopped even once to relieve herself since that morn. Her needy breasts now almost demanded her attention, swollen with nearly a full day's burden of her delicious milk. She paced gingerly towards a full-length mirror mounted near the bed, taking the last few steps very slowly, her huge sensitive bosom bouncing lazily in her robe around her waist.

She sat on the edge of the bed to kick off her boots, then stood in her bare feet facing the mirror. Her milk-swollen breasts dominated her torso, entirely obscuring her hips and waist in her reflection. She grasped at the small silver charm dangling on a necklace just above her cleavage.

ꭓ

One week earlier, she had been sitting in the front row of Mistress Yvette's lecture hall. She had developed a special affection for Yvette, whom she had long considered to be her favorite among the mistress scholars, and today she had been teasing her mistress by allowing her robe to fall open during class. She would wait to capture the mistress' lascivious gaze, then slowly cross and uncross her long stocking-clad legs.

After the lecture had ended, Mistress Yvette, looking flushed, had pointed to a small tear in Amie's stockings that revealed her bare skin – "Most unbecoming of an aspiring scholar," the mistress had intoned – and demanded she accompany her to her private chambers.

Some time later, a sweaty and unkempt-looking Amie had staggered out of the mistress' chambers with a few more holes in her stockings, much less milk in her breasts, and an unusual gift. The mistress had insistently pressed into her hands a bundle of cloth, which she had slowly unwrapped to reveal a small silver charm. The mistress had told her only that it contained powerful magic and urged her to bring it along on her travels, that she must keep it on her person at all times, and she mustn't allow anyone else to touch it.

But there must have been something else, she recalled.

"There's something else," Mistress Yvette had said as Amie was leaving her chambers. "This is the liquid charm. Seek the glory of its wetness in the kingdom of Sweetwater."

ꭓ

Amie bit her lower lip to quiet herself. She almost fully extended her arms, her fingertips now hovering just above the plainly obvious points of her erected nipples in the chest of her scholar's robe. She grasped both turgid teats, thrilled at their hot firmness and immense size and how sublime they felt in her hands even through the soft fabric.

Suddenly the lower third of the mirror was covered with a fine spray of milky whiteness. Her knees shuddered at the delirious sensation of her uncontrolled lactation, amazed at the incredible pressure of her milk spraying through the fabric. She exerted no small degree of mental focus to regain control, her milky spray slowing to a trickle that continued to stain the inside of her robe. She flushed at the feel of hot milk dripping down her sensitive bare skin. Not yet, girls, she thought, but I'm nearly at my limit!