Commission: The Milkmage - Preview 1

Been a while since a classic preview. Sorry 'bout that (Harem took far too long). Anywho, here's the opening scene for the next project on the docket: The Milkmage.

"To say it was a warm day would be putting it nicely. High above the sun was shining brightly, casting its rays down on the open fields and plains that stretched far as the eye could see around these country roads. Not a speck of shade in sight to shield Myrikal from the heat bearing down on her, which she wouldn’t have minded too much if her robes didn’t leave her so exposed.

Rich blue fabric hung off her supple hips, flowing like water over her smooth legs with each step, though the garment left nothing to the imagination up top. Her breasts were fully exposed, bouncing upon her chest and jingling the fine golden jewelry draped over their magnificence. Each was more than a handful, a perfect teardrop that swayed and lightly batted at its heavy partner while their owner trekked onward; further and further from the university on her pilgrimage.

It was a rite of passage for all novice milkmages, even those that carried the natural talent and potential Myri did, to set out into the world and put their gifts to practice. A good milkmage needed three things: desire, control, and expression.

The first was easy, a part of being human, but also the most dangerous unfettered. It was easy to lose oneself to lust, but there was also a balance to be struck lest one not be able to tap into the powers of a milkmage when needed. Many acolytes saw it as a matter of temperament, dipping into the second discipline of control to keep themselves reined in, then use inner foci to bring themselves up when needed. Myri knew the real secret though; true masters were always aroused, and used control to pull it back and function day to day with the constant high burning inside of them. The final key though, expression, was the true separator between a milkmage and the rest of the world.

Everyone was capable of expression, to some extent; the most common manifesting in mothers to withstand the hardships of childbirth, and feed their young for the coming years until the magic ran its course. Some could harness it with the aid of remedies and salves, using it to grow their chests as symbols of femininity, or hope they could awaken a latent talent and harness their milk to cast a spell or two. The truly gifted though, when they came of age a whole new world opened to them. It was why the first two disciplines were so important; an untrained milkmage could do wonders great and potentially terrible.

Such was the need for the university, to help those young souls temper that raw talent into true skill through the three disciplines. To the uninitiated, some of the methods likely seemed odd; their uniforms for example. The open-front robes Myri now wore, to show her chosen profession, served two purposes. The first was a matter of expression, leaving her chest ready to release her bounty for spells without the need to waste time undressing. The lesser-known reason for it though was for control, to dispel the milkmage’s sense of modesty or shyness about their body. After all, getting flustered whenever you have to go topless to cast would interfere with the desire needed to manifest your magic. Even the jewelry served a purpose, as not only small charms the prestigious school bestowed upon its students to help their magic, but to draw the eye and further quash any sense that a milkmage’s body wasn’t something to be admired for its gifts.

And gifts Myri had, as she brushed a lock of her golden blonde hair over her ear. She was quite the prodigy, inducted into the university at a young age, a record by almost a full two years according to the headmistress. Plus, not only did she have a natural affinity, but she was quick to learn, having picked up her first spells in only a few weeks.

None of it however, exempted her from her pilgrimage. They had waited a few years, to ensure she was of age before setting out on her own, but she wouldn’t achieve higher than a novice rank until she’d seen more of the world for herself; which was probably for the best. A few times she’d bitten off more than her experience could chew, and caused a bit of a ruckus on the campus grounds.

Just recalling those moments had a soft flush in her cheeks, partially masked by the faint traveler’s tan walking the country roads had bestowed upon her flawless skin. All too quickly her body felt the desire, and soon her breasts were swelling with sweet milk, the pearl-like dots appearing over her decorated teats in anticipation for expression. They accumulated a couple sizes before the milkmage caught herself, embarrassingly dipping into recounted lessons to regain her control. Maybe she did need this journey, her mind was too prone to wandering alone on these empty trails." - "The Milkmage" by Madam Materia