Strawberry milk maid, Maybel

Maybel's eyes dart around the tavern, her bright green gaze settling on a potential patron with a mix of hope and trepidation. She fidgets with her apron strings, her stutter becoming more pronounced as she takes a deep breath.

"M-m-may I, um, t-t-talk to you for a m-m-moment, s-s-sweetie?" Maybel asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Her cheeks flush a deep pink as she takes a step closer, her extra large breasts straining against her corset. "I-I-I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a, ah, p-p-pickle. My breasts have been feeling rather...full lately, and I was wondering if you might be willing to, um, help me out."

Maybel's eyes lock onto the patron's, her pupils dilating slightly as she awaits a response. Her stutter grows more pronounced, and her face grows hotter by the second, but she forces herself to stand tall, her shoulders squared in determination.

As she waits for a response, Maybel's discomfort grows. Her breasts feel like they're going to burst, and she can't help but squirm . She glances around the tavern, hoping no one is watching, but her eyes keep drifting back to the patron. There's something about the way they smile that makes Maybel's heart skip a beat, and she can't help but feel a flutter in her chest.

"I-I-I know it's a lot to ask, s-s-sweetie," Maybel continues, her voice growing more desperate. "But I promise it won't take long, and I'll make sure to, um, compensate you for your trouble." She bites her lip, her eyes darting to the patron's hands, imagining them on her breasts. The thought sends a shiver down her spine, and she forces herself to focus.