A detour on the way to the ships

"Take us to the ships," you command. "We need to get out of here."

The wug proves an occasionally difficult pathfinder. Her does not seem to be trying to escape and yet more than once he is so intent on his walking that he manages to pull the vine loose from your hands. You manage to catch it and wind it around your wrists again each time before the creature notices.

Brigette struggles to keep up, her huge, milky orbs heaving with her movement. Your own breasts seem to be tingling and you wonder just what is happening to them. Will you soon be dripping milk constantly like your dear companion? You do rather like the way the gown hangs taut over your newly abundant bosom and your eager nipples rub against the fabric.

You are about to ask Brigette something about her milk, when the lead goes suddenly slack. The sea wug has stopped and is cocking his head in the direction of the coast.

"Patrol," he says. "Five wug. They come. They take milk from me if find."

His bulbous eye rolls to look at you and Brigette. His triangular tongue flicks out and roams across the rim of his lipless maw. Brigette moans and thin trickles of milk pump out from her excited nipples, coursing in white droplets down the lower curve of each breast and tracking down her pale green belly.

"Take us into the marsh," you say. "Take us around them. Then double us back to the ship."

The wug obeys you. The urgency of his movement dragging you behind him as Brigette struggles to keep up. He seems more interested in speed than silence as you crackle through the treeline and begin to splash into the shallow salt marsh. Water saturates your gown. You swat away the buzzing insects and see that the wug is leading you to a tangle of roots that forms a natural cave of sorts. He ducks under the upper roots and you follow him into the cool, stagnant darkness. Brigette squeezes into the close quarters last.

"Sshhhhhh," hisses the wug. "They come."

You do not see them until they are almost right upon you. The five wugs are smeared with pigment to disguise their flesh. Their uppper bodies are hunched forward, fins flat against their backs and necks and bulging eyes scanning their surroundings. The nearest of them is less than ten paces away. They slow as they pass, one of them seeming to scent the air. It would be so easy for your wug prisoner to give you all up. You would kill him, probably, but you would be doomed yourself.

He does not. He presses his slippery body against you both in the tight confines and he watches with a similar nervous anticipation. As the hunting wugs disappear, you realize that your prisoner has undoubtedly saved you from capture.

"We rest here," he says, his eyes taking in Brigette's heaving breasts. You notice he looks at yours as well with the same animal hunger. "Milk of Tokonga so sweet. Have more?"

Brigette lets out a little moan at the mere mention of her milk. You can see it is dripping steadily form her engorged nipples and spilling into the water around you.

"There's so much," she moans, cradling her breasts. "You could each have a taste."

She must be in great discomfort to be offering her milk to the wug she fed so reluctantly before. She turns to you and the beast. You look at the wug and you notice that once again, now just beneath the surface of the dark waters, the wug's pale wedge of cockflesh is aroused from his otherwise flat abdomen.

The heady smell of Brigette's milk is filling the air in this tight space and you find yourself similarly inflamed. You fear that if you give in to your desire to drink, much more than just tasting that sweet milk may occur. And yet the wug has just saved you all and Brigette is looking at you so longingly, her breasts aching for relief.