Drink from the chalice and select the left doorway to enhance your breasts...

You reach for the stone chalice, your parched throat making the decision almost involuntary. The vessel feels surprisingly light as you lift it to your lips, the pearlescent liquid inside shimmering with arcane potential.

"Bigger boobs would be nice, right?" you mutter to yourself with gallows humor, trying to maintain some semblance of control over your transformation.

As the first drop touches your tongue, your taste buds explode with sensation—honey, milk, and something indefinably primal flood your senses. The liquid slides down your throat like liquid satin, warming every inch of your body from the inside out. You drain the chalice without pausing, your body demanding every drop.

"The choice is made," the disembodied voice announces as you lower the empty vessel.

Heat blooms in your chest immediately, your breasts tingling beneath your shirt. The sensation is pleasant at first—a gentle warmth spreading outward from your nipples. You place your hands over them instinctively, feeling them grow firmer, heavier against your palms.

"Proceed through the left doorway," the voice instructs. "Your transformation has begun."

You step toward the chosen doorway, your enhanced clit still throbbing with each movement. As you cross the threshold, the barrier that previously repelled you now parts like water, welcoming you into a chamber bathed in soft, golden light.

The room is circular, its walls adorned with carvings of women nursing infants, animals, and even adult men. At the center stands a stone dais surrounded by what appear to be milking machines—ancient in design yet somehow functional, with glass collection vessels and strange, flexible tubes ending in cup-shaped attachments.

Before you can process the sight, the heat in your breasts intensifies dramatically. You gasp, clutching them as they swell beneath your hands, growing heavier and fuller by the second. Your shirt tightens uncomfortably as they push outward, straining the fabric.

"The first phase of lactation enhancement has begun," the voice explains. "Your mammary tissue is multiplying, creating additional milk ducts and storage capacity."

Your nipples darken and expand, becoming hypersensitive as they press against your increasingly tight clothing. Wetness forms around them, small damp circles appearing on your shirt as your body begins producing the first droplets of milk.

"Remove your upper garments," the voice commands. "The transformation must not be constrained."

Desperately seeking relief from the tightness, you tear off your shirt. Your swelling breasts spill free, now nearly twice their original size and still growing. The skin stretches taut and shiny, veins becoming visible beneath the surface as increased blood flow feeds the transformation. Your areolas have darkened to a rich brown, expanding to the size of silver dollars. Your nipples stand proudly erect, leaking thin streams of clear fluid.

"Approach the dais," the voice instructs. "The sacred machines will extract the first offering and complete your enhancement."

You stagger forward, your balance altered by the weight on your chest. Your breasts have grown to an improbable size, full and heavy with the promise of milk. Each step sends them bouncing painfully, drawing fresh droplets from your leaking nipples.

The milking apparatus hums to life as you approach, its tubes writhing like living things, reaching for your transformed chest.