Fluffy Duffy and the Devonshire Affair

A fantasy in many parts by

A x o l o t l

© 2001 Axolotl

7

Fluffy Takes Charge

A popular weather-man's definition of an English summer is three fine days and a thunderstorm. The thunderstorm had come at three in the morning, waking Fluffy after she had tossed and turned restlessly for what seemed like hours, trying to keep to her side of the bed and not to roll into the middle.
    Now, Fluffy sat up in bed, feeling sticky, stinky and sore. It was daylight outside, and her Ray of sunshine was on his back, snoring gently. She had worn him out. There was a feather sticking out of the corner of one of the pillows: she held it beneath his nose then dropped it into his mouth.
    "Aaaagh. Wooogh. Wooff. What you trying to do, you old bat..." He rolled over and stared at her without recognition for several seconds.
    "Good morning, Mr Devonshire."
    "Fluffy?"
    "That's me. You just stay there and I'll bring you a cup of tea." She scrambled out of bed and hobbled towards the window. It felt as if he was still inside her. He had warned her beforehand how appallingly thick he was. He certainly was! She felt absolutely stuffed. The other feeling was that her breasts were even fuller than ever. Halfway to the window she swerved to the right and diverted to the mirror. One glance confirmed her suspicions. At some stage in the night she must have subconsciously rebuttoned her pyjama top. Now, she could see her nipples practically ripping their way out of it. She let out a little gasp and undid the buttons, staring in bewilderment as a staggeringly deep cleavage came into view. "Mr Devonshire," she half whispered, turning to the bed. "Look!"
    He'd buried his head again, but emerged unwillingly. "Look at what? You're standing in front of the light. I can't see what ... you're ... trying ... fucking hell!"
    Fluffy blushed. If he could see it from across the room, she must look different this morning. As if she couldn't tell just by the weight and feel of them. "I'm ... bathroom," she stammered, her breasts bouncing and slamming against her tummy as she headed for the door.
    No doubt about it, she was absolutely massive. Yesterday, between leaving home in the morning and bedtime, she had a feeling that her bust measurement had probably increased by as much as an inch or two, maybe a little more. Now, literally overnight, without a shadow of a doubt, it had grown far more than that. Of course, it had been one hell of a night, but even so, this much growth had to be unheard of in such a short time: surely it was impossible. They were fuller in all directions, but most noticeably in width. They hung out several inches to the sides of her body, far more than last night. Wrapping her arms round herself, she hurried downstairs, having to stop halfway when the bouncing threatened to overbalance her and send her skittering down the stairs to land in a great titty heap on the kitchen floor.
    She ran her fingers through her hair, filled the kettle and found a couple of mugs. Her sweater was still on the couch in front of the television, along with the rest of her clothes. One of her new shirts and a pair of those panties would be enough for now, although she did hold her new bra against her chest for a few moments. Hopeless! And she'd only worn it for one afternoon. Gerard would swap it for a bigger one. He'd complain, but he'd obviously got it all wrong...
    But he hadn't, had he? The pigging bra had fitted perfectly yesterday afternoon, had fitted pretty well last night — and it wouldn't go anywhere near her this morning.
    In the kitchen, the kettle boiled.
    Fluffy looped the tape measure round her neck, grabbed the two mugs of tea in one fist and started up the stairs.
    He was asleep again, she saw as she carefully circled the bed and sat on the edge of it at his side. There was mild panic in his face when his eyes opened.
    "I didn't put any sugar in it."
    He struggled into a sitting position, and feeling like a nurse she leaned across him to prop him up with a pillow. He accepted the mug and held it in both hands. His eyes held hers for a moment, then fell. "How do you feel?"
    "I'm bigger this morning," she said simply.
    "Sorry!"
    Fluffy giggled briefly. "No, not down there! Although I must be, I suppose. It feels kind of numb. No, I mean up here. I brought the tape measure."
    "You can't have grown enough to measure the difference! Not overnight."
    "You want to bet? You want to see them? Drink your tea first."
    It seemed so natural to be giving the orders, she thought as she watched him raise the mug and gulp it down. She'd taken the lead yesterday, and last evening, placing him between her breasts and bringing him off in her cleavage, spilling his load all over her huge tits. Not quite such a big load the second time, and even less on the third! Then it had been bedtime, and he'd gone to sleep after no more than a perfunctory cuddle — until the thunderstorm in the middle of the night, which had given her the excuse to wake him up and cling on for comfort and reassurance. She had been scared, too; the storm had circled round and round, the thunder hard on the heels of the lightning flashes for more than an hour. But then she'd taken charge again, really taken charge, and when he was rock hard and ready she had mounted him in earnest. She hadn't intended to, it had just happened. He hadn't exactly slid into her like a rat up a drainpipe; Fluffy was sopping wet but he was so enormously thick she had squealed like a rabbit until he was inside her and her flooding juices enveloped him, spilling out all over his groin so they seemed to be doing it in a puddle. But doing it they certainly were! She smiled at the memory, although it was a painful one.
    Yes, Fluffy was in command. Afterwards, she had held him tight, and she'd wiped the tears from his face in wonderment when he'd cried, rocking him in her arms until he was quiet. Her big baby; her secret.
    She took the empty mug and placed it next to her still full one on the bedside table. She wasn't keen on tea in the mornings. "Now," she laughed, moving further across the bed and straddling his knees. Outlined beneath the sheet, his erection began rearing up again. "You can forget that, for a start! I feel as if I've been making love to a carthorse. Pay attention, boy! Up here!" She cupped her breasts through the straining silk and leaned forwards. The two uppermost buttons were already undone.
    "You look bigger," he gulped.
    "I said I was. I don't just look bigger, I am bigger." Another button. "Next time, you'll have to put it in here, won't you? You don't know how lucky you are, finding a girl with big enough breasts for you to fit that monster thing in between them!" Another button. There was only one more. "How big was I yesterday, in inches? What was my bra size?"
    "You can remember, surely?"
    "I can, but can you?"
    "Forty-nine inches with your bra on."
    "Good boy!" She sat back on her haunches and patted his cock encouragingly. "We can't measure me with my bra on, though, can we?"
    "Can't we? Why not?"
    "Because I can't get it on. It's too small."
    "It can't be! It cost seventy quid!"
    "No, that included my bikini as well, and that probably still fits okay. I mean, it doesn't matter if you hang out of a bikini, it's what they're for. But a bra has to fit or there's no point. Never mind, Gerard will change it for a new one. Shall I get them out now? Or do you want to look at them like this for a while? Look how my nipples stick out through the silk, is that sexy or what! Fwuffy got huge nipples, and these bits, too — what are they called?"
    "Aureolas"
    "Nearly! Areolae. Say it..."
    "Areolae."
    That's a good boy," she gave him another encouraging stroke through the sheet. "My areolae are bigger, too. Hey, I've had an idea! Don't go away!"
    "Fluffy, where are you go...?"
    She had scrambled off the bed and fled out of the bedroom door, knowing the effect her gigantically bouncing breasts must be having, scarcely constrained by the silk shirt, guessing how her rear view must appear to him, her shockingly voluptuous bottom stretching those skimpy panties. Wet skimpy panties! Into Danielle's room, open her top drawer. Yes!
    Back into the bedroom, where Mr Devonshire was trying to adjust the position of his erection before she came back. On to the bed again...
    "Stop playing with it! You'll make the bed all wet and sticky."
    "The bed's already wet and sticky with your love-juice, Fluff! There's a wet patch two feet across."
    "Never mind! We can put the sheet in the wash. Now, what's this?" She held it up in front of his face. "I know it's a bra. And it's blue. What else can you tell me about it?"
    "It's a small bra."
    "Not really." She pretended to squint at the label. "D-cup isn't really small, is it? That's what it says. Size 30D."
    "It's one of Danielle's! You can't wear that, you'll bust it!"
    "I know. But watch this." She swiftly unbuttoned her shirt completely, plucked it away from the enormously long and thick nipple of her left breast, peeled it away from her monstrous areola and allowed the whole of one breast to wobble out into the daylight. It was no more than six inches from Mr Devonshire's nose. "You ready for this?" And she took Danielle's delicate pale blue bra, held the straps out of the way and fitted it over the nose-cone of her left breast. Gathering up the straps, she reined it in like a boisterous pony. Her voice rose to an excited squeal with the realisation. "How about that? My puffy bit only just fits in Dani's bra! I've got D-cup areolae, Mr Devonshire!"
    "Bloody hell!"
    "Measure me now," she cried, flinging the bra away and almost tearing the clinging shirt right off. "Sit up and I'll turn round, so you can be behind me, and I'll hold them up to pretend I've got a bra on, okay?"
    "Okay. If you must."
    She shuffled round and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, a wobbling vision of voluptuous girlhood. "Ready. Go on, then! If I hold them like this, then slide my hands forward so they're nearer the ends, I can just about reach to hold the tape on my nipples. Well nearly, anyway. Try again. There, quick, what does it say?"
    "Fucking hell!"
    "It doesn't say fucking hell, Mr Devonshire! It's not a rude tape measure. How many inches? Wait while I hold them up again. They're ever so heavy. Now!"
    "It's okay, I've done it."
    She lowered her breasts thankfully and turned round, grateful that they hung low enough to rest in her lap and hide the now drenched front of her panties. It would be too embarrassing for words if he thought she'd pissed herself in her excitement. In fact, she was so wet that she wasn't too certain herself that she hadn't. "Well? How big?"
    Mr Devonshire studied the tape measure with a puzzled frown. "You must have been holding them out too far. This can't be right."
    "What can't be right?"
    "I must have made a mistake." He tried holding the tape upside down, shook his head, looked at the other end.
    "Show me." Mr Devonshire's nervous fingers were still gripping the tape, the nail pressing into it so hard that his thumb was nearly white. Fluffy shook her head. "You must have made a mistake. That can't be right. You'll have to do it again." She shuffled into position once more. "And try to do it properly this time. Ready?"
    "Okay, I'm sure that's right this time."
    "Just keep your thumb on it and give it to me."
    She just sat and stared at the tape, her back to him.
    "It can't be."
    "Can't be what? Was it right the first time?"
    "No. But this time it's even bigger! Look."
    She handed the tape back. "Fifty-five? That's impossible!"
    "No it's not," she said, slightly hysterically. "After all, it's only twenty-one inches bigger than Danielle! It's not quite as big as it sounds. In a bra, my nipples wouldn't stick out as far as this, would they?" She showed him, in case he'd forgotten.
    "No, I suppose not."
    "So I wouldn't really need a 38Q-cup, would I? Maybe only an M or an N, or something, right?"
    "If you say so, Fluffy."
    "We'd better get ready and go and see Gerard."
    "But Danielle and her mother are coming home today! I've got to clean up the bedroom, wash these stinky sheets..."
    "What time?"
    "I don't know. The journey from her mother's takes a couple of hours. If they leave straight after breakfast, they could be here by eleven. We couldn't get to Gerard's shop until ten at the earliest, and it takes him ages..."
    "That's all right. They won't leave straight after breakfast, will they? Now, Gerard's number will be on the receipt. If you call him, you can tell him my new size and he can be making the bra while we're on the way there, okay? We'll just pick it up, I'll put it on, and we'll be home before Mrs Devonshire and Dani get back. Simple!"
    "It's not that easy..."
    "Don't be so fucking negative, Raymond! Come on, out of bed!"
    "What...?" He hung on to the sheet while the phenomenally-stacked girl vaulted none-too-lightly to the floor. "What are you doing?"
    "We can't call Gerard until he opens, say nine o'clock. We've got an hour and a half before then. So we'll have a shower and breakfast first..."
    "Okay, okay, go and have your shower. I'll come in after you."
    Fluffy gave the sheet a triumphant yank. "We've got plenty of time for a shower. We've got to do something about this first!"
    Mr Devonshire's mighty throbbing erection disappeared almost up to the hilt in Fluffy's cleavage. Now that was something you didn't see every day.

Fluffy perched her plump bottom on Mr Devonshire's knee and made as if to finish off his bacon sandwich for him.
    "Hey, that's mine!"
    "I only want a little nibble."
    "No! That's the tastiest bacon sandwich I've ever had."
    "Okay," she said, offering it to his lips. It ought to be tasty, she thought, seeing the amount of pussy-juice she had carefully drizzled over it before she placed the second slice of bread on top and proudly carried it into the living room. She was still dressed only in a shiny red plastic apron which allowed more than fifty per cent of her breasts to spill out of the sides. Her nipples were just about managing to stay out of sight, but the great brown globes of her areolae bulged out obscenely, refusing stubbornly to be squashed flat the way her breasts had been. "Eat it all up, make you a big strong boy!" And she wiggled her generous soft bottom on his cock, bringing it back to life for the third time that morning. The quick tit-fuck on the bed had been followed by a spectacularly messy, totally abandoned and very real coupling that had started in the shower and ended on a pile of once-clean towels in the airing cupboard. Mr Devonshire was probably now eating some of his own cum — and enjoying it — she realised with a giggle as she pecked at his cheek with moist, slightly parted lips.
    "Not again, Fluffy!"
    "Okay. I'm numb down there, anyway." She reached for the phone. "You can call Gerard now!" She sat there, wriggling from time to time apparently without thinking, until the phone at the other end was picked up and Gerard's camp tones carried clearly to her. Mr Devonshire had to hold the phone away from his ear, and she could plainly hear both sides of the conversation.
    "Oh, hello, Gerard. It's Ray Devonshire, I came in yesterday for a bra?"
    "Hmm. Most people do, dear. I sell bras, you see?"
    "This was for my ... daughter. Actually, I came in for a bikini, but you made her a bra at the same time. You remember? Quite a plump blonde girl, very big ... erm..." Fluffy drew in her breath indignantly at the word 'plump'.
    "Oh, you mean young Florence Duffy! And you're that man with the tight baggy trousers. I could have sworn you said Devonshire. Well, I'm blessed. The poor child needed a new bra, as well, that one was nearly choking her. So what's the problem?"
    "No problem. That is, well, yes, there is. She's ... Fluffy, stop it!"
    "I beg your pardon, Mr Duffy?"
    "Nothing, someone was just trying to catch my attention. Now, about that bra. It's too small. Fluffy, no!"
    Fluffy removed her tongue from Mr Devonshire's ear and replaced it with her finger. "I've got to wipe the spit out of your ear, Mr Devonshire," she whispered. "You just carry on talking to Gerard."
    "Sorry, Mr Duffy, you say it was too small? But I measured it most carefully. Where do you mean it too small, round the back?"
    Fluffy, listening, shook her head.
    "No, not round the back..."
    "Well certainly not in the cups!" Gerard insisted. Fluffy nodded her head vigorously. "That bra was an L-cup. Do you know what that means?" She nodded again, grinning. "It means it was slightly on the generous side, to allow your daughter — who is obviously still developing quite quickly — room to fill out still further."
    "She has," said Mr Devonshire with a heavy sigh. "Filled out. In fact, she's filled out so much it's ridiculous."
    "How much bigger...?"
    Fluffy grabbed the phone. "Hello, Gerard," she husked. "It's Florence. I'm enormous today!"
    "You were enormous yesterday."
    "Gerard, yesterday was nothing. Mr Dev ... my daddy measured me in bed this morning and you wouldn't believe how big I was! Guess?"
    "Please let's not play games, Florence," Gerard scolded her. "I am very busy today. I have clients coming in for fittings..."
    "Guess, Gerard?"
    "No! Tell me."
    "Oh, please guess!"
    "Good God, child! Forty-nine inches."
    "Don't be silly. More than that!"
    "Fifty?"
    "No, lots more than that!"
    "Stop it! I shall put this phone down..."
    "Fifty-five!"
    "And I shall report this incident to our senior management..." There was silence, broken only by Gerard's heavy breathing. "Fifty...?"
    "Fifty-five!"
    "That's impossible. That bra wouldn't stretch far enough to accommodate a fifty-five inch bust. You could possibly be fifty or fifty-one inches, but your breasts would be bulging out of it all over the place. Even then, you'd be nowhere near fifty-five inches."
    "We didn't measure me in the bra, Gerard."
    "Well, that explains it." Gerard's laugh was relieved. "You must always measure with a bra on. Without it, especially with very large and pendulous breasts like yours, Florence, the measurement could be badly distorted by the amount the breasts hang down. If you were leaning forwards, for instance..."
    "If I'd been leaning forward, Gerard, you'd never believe where they hang down to. But I wasn't leaning forward, I was holding them up, Gerard. One in each hand. They're huge compared to yesterday. Have you got yesterday's measurements? You know, all those funny ones you took, like when you wrapped the tape round my breasts one at a time?"
    "They're on the computer. Look, I'm too busy to play games..."
    "Find the measurements on your computer, then tell my daddy where to measure me. See for yourself. I'll put him back on the phone now. We've got a tape measure here, so we can do it straight away for you."
    Gerard sniffed and huffed and complained, but she heard him tapping at his keyboard.
    "That's good, Gerard. Here's my daddy now." She handed over the phone, despite violent head-shaking from Mr Devonshire. He held the handset as if it were a viper, closed his eyes, and spoke.
    "Hello, Gerard? You ready?"
    "This is most irregular. Is the girl undressed?"
    "Yes."
    Fluffy most emphatically was. She stood in front of Mr Devonshire, held the red plastic apron between finger and thumb and dropped it on the floor, then did a little shimmy with her hands above her head. Then to his horror, she quickly unbuckled his belt and plunged an arm into his white cotton trousers. "Got to have these off, Mr Devonshire," she announced in shocked tones. "Look at the state of them, you've pissed yourself!"
    "I have not pissed myself..."
    "I beg your pardon?" Gerard squeaked.
    "Not you! I'm talking to this girl..."
    Fluffy sniffed her fingers. "Oh, it's all right, it's not pee. I've leaked on you. We still need them off, though. They can go in the wash with your sheets and pillowcases, your pyjamas and all those towels we soaked. It will wash out okay, it's only Fluffy-juice, and your cum!"
    "Mr Duffy, what's going on? I can't hear properly."
    "Just a minute." Helplessly, Mr Devonshire raised his bottom in the chair and watched as his trousers were efficiently pulled off. "Fluffy...?"
    She was getting good at it by now. In no more than three gentle strokes, she had him ragingly erect and rearing towards the ceiling. "Talk to Gerard," she urged him, climbing on to him and squirming her naked bottom around on his lap. At this rate, it was just a matter of time before he was inside her again. He pressed the phone against his ear as if that might somehow prevent Gerard from hearing her comments.
    "What do you want me to do, Gerard?"
    "Measure your little girl's bust, Mr Duffy."
    "We already did..."
    "Let's do it, Ray!" Fluffy interjected. "I'll hold them up for you. God, I'm so horny," she added inconsequentially. She adopted her usual breast-hoisting pose. "Go on, I can't hold these things up for ever!"
    "What size is it, Mr Duffy?"
    "Hang on a minute, she's trying to hold them up for me."
    "She's supposed to be wearing her bra," said Gerard.
    "She can't. That's why we're having this conversation. Here we go. Well over fifty inches. Fifty-five ... and a half."
    "I wasn't holding them up properly," Fluffy hissed. "Try again."
    "What's happening now?"
    "We're trying again. Fifty-six! Is she allowed to breathe in? Fifty-six ... and a half!"
    "Try another measurement. Take her right breast and wrap the tape all the way round it at the fattest point. Have you found the fattest point?"
    "Are you going to let him call me fat like that?"
    "Shhh, Fluffy! Okay, do you want to know how big it is?"
    "I'm not a mind reader, Mr Duffy!"
    "Twenty-four."
    "Are you absolutely sure?"
    "Of course I am!"
    "She was only nineteen inches round there yesterday. Okay, she clearly needs a replacement bra as quickly as possible. How soon can you get here?"
    "Will the bra be ready when we get there?"
    "Of course not, silly! She'll have to be measured properly. Fortunately, we use a modular component system, so we are able to manufacture a bra most quickly. It will take an hour or so, same as yesterday. Florence's unusual areolar formation requires one of our more extreme cup designs in what is really a most exceptional size."
    Mr Devonshire sighed with resignation. "Half an hour, if we hurry. We ... I mean, Florence will need to get dressed first."
    "Very well. We are very busy this morning, but I will reserve you a window at ten. The bra will be ready by eleven thirty."
    "Eleven thirty?" Mr Devonshire groaned after he had said his farewells to Gerard and put down the phone. "We won't be home until after twelve!"
    "Let's hurry, then!" said Fluffy, climbing off his lap. Her fat breasts hung well below her navel. "I do need a bra, don't I?"