Fluffy Duffy and the Devonshire Affair
Concluding this fantasy in many parts by
A x o l o t l
© 2001 Axolotl
10
Facing the Music
"I'll have to see her tomorrow," said Fluffy. "And face the music. She'll murder me, for sure." Surely her mother would be sympathetic, once she got used to the idea of her dear daughter's bust growing such a vast amount in three days. Just giving her time to get used to it was going to be the hard part. That, and trying to explain where all these giant new bras and sexy clothes had come from.
"I'll come with you and give you moral support, if you like," Danielle offered, not wanting to miss her friend's big scene. "What are you doing with that video machine?" she asked exasperatedly.
"I recorded the last hour of the cricket."
"You what? How can you watch cricket when your tits are growing half a dozen sizes a day?"
"What's that got to do with anything? Shhh, it's on..."
'No respite for England's cricketers today, as they could only watch their opponents carry their first innings score into four figures for the loss of just one wicket, to a freak and controversial run out when the ball struck a pigeon and deflected on to the stumps. The declaration came an hour after tea with the score on one thousand, one hundred and eleven. England now have two days to avoid total humiliation, but the signs are not promising. At the close tonight, requiring the small matter of eight hundred and thirty-eight runs to avoid the follow-on, they had taken their second innings score to nine but had lost three early wickets...'
"Oh, God, no!" Fluffy wailed. "We are total pants!"
"Talking of pants, you weren't thinking of sleeping with my dad again tonight, were you?"
"You're such a little pervert, Danielle."
"I'm not a pervert. My nipples haven't suddenly doubled in size at the thought of being screwed by a dirty old man of thirty-five. And don't try hiding them by folding your arms. That trick won't work any more, your arms aren't long enough!"
Fluffy hunched her shoulders and glanced down at her nipples. Her friend was right. "I can't help it if ... what's that?"
"Someone at the front door. Dad'll get it."
They heard the door open and distant voices, coming closer.
"...not seen you for ages, Kathy, and we're only round the corner..."
"...sorry to trouble you, Ray, but a parcel came for my Fluffy and I thought I'd better bring it round in case it was something she needed..."
"It's my mum!" Fluffy hissed, frantically trying to fasten another button on her shirt. It didn't work. She seized a cushion and held it across her chest. It was too small.
"She's in here with Danielle, watching TV..."
"I wouldn't have bothered you, only a young man on a motorbike delivered it, so it must be urgent, whatever it is..." Mrs Duffy was obviously consumed by curiosity.
The living-room door opened and Mrs Duffy was ushered into the room by Mr Devonshire, wearing a T-shirt and a pair of probably the most obscene shorts ever worn by a grown man.
"Mum!" Fluffy cried, still hiding behind her inadequate cushion.
"Hello, dear. This came for you this afternoon. A man on a motorbike brought it, so it must be urgent..."
"Thanks." Fluffy accepted the parcel and placed it on the couch between her and Danielle.
"Aren't you going to open it, then?"
"Later, mum, we're watching the cricket."
"I'll open it for you," said Danielle, grabbing the parcel before Fluffy could snatch it away. She began fumbling with the wrapping, until Mr Devonshire obligingly supplied a knife.
"Careful with it, Dan!" Fluffy objected, making another attempt at capturing the package.
Danielle avoided her hand and ripped open the brown paper. "It's a bra!" she announced, and withdrew the undergarment with a flourish.
"God!" said Mr Devonshire. Fluffy tore her eyes away. From her position down here on the couch she could see the last two inches of his cock hanging out of his shorts.
"That bra can't be yours, Fluffy!" Mrs Duffy said with a frown. She stared hard at her daughter, with the kind of look that could burn its way through cushions.
"Maybe some kind of mistake..."
"No, it's yours, Fluff," said Danielle. "Look, there's a note inside, addressed to you. It's from Miss Twizzell herself. 'Dear Florence. Just in case that latest bra isn't big enough to last until you can come into the shop again, here's one in a bigger size. You won't need to pay if you don't wear it, but if you do, send your mother or Mr Devonshire in to pay for it...' Ooops!"
Mrs Duffy was staring at Mr Devonshire enquiringly.
"Isn't that s-someone at the f-front door?" he stammered. "Or maybe I didn't close it properly. I'd better go and make sure. You can't be too careful these days, can you...?"
"How strange!" Mrs Duffy turned back to her daughter. "What are you hiding behind that cushion, Fluffy?"
"Nothing!"
"It seems to be taking up an awful lot of room for nothing, dear!"
"I'm not hiding anything. I'm just cold, that's all." She hurriedly dashed a bead of sweat from her brow.
"Those are nice trousers, Fluffy," said her mother.
"Oh, these? They're Danielle's!"
Danielle coughed and spluttered into her hankie.
"Danielle's? Danielle has twenty-nine-inch hips. I know they're tight, but they're not that tight! Where did you get them?"
"They were in a sale, cheap. In Brocklehurst..."
"They're not really big enough. They make your bum look huge. In fact, it is huge! Let me see." Mrs Duffy advanced quickly and making a determined grab at Fluffy's cushion, she whipped it away. "Oh, wow, Fluff! What's been happening to you?"
Fluffy's hands weren't big enough to hide more than half of her cleavage. She fluttered them up and down until her mother tossed the cushion away and held her wrists.
Silence fell, during which Fluffy could see Mr Devonshire lurking outside the living-room door. He shook his head vehemently and wagged a warning finger at her before disappearing backwards.
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"How big is that new bra?"
Danielle obligingly handed it over, while Fluffy rolled her eyes to the ceiling for help from Above.
"What's this mean?" Mrs Duffy pointed at the label.
"It's a bar-code," said Fluffy. "I can't read bar-codes. I'm not a computer..."
"Not the bar-code!" her mother snapped. "What's this here, where it says 'SIZE'?"
"It's the size," Fluffy mumbled.
"38J? I don't know much about bra sizes, Fluffy, but even I can see you're bigger than a J-cup!"
"It's a J2," said Danielle helpfully, her eyes going crossed as she concentrated on the higher mathematics. "That means she's a J-cup on the second time round..."
"The second time round what?"
"Round the alphabet. It means she's..."
"Seventy-six inches!" said Fluffy, tiring of the guessing games. "It's Miss Twizzell's idea of a joke, sending me a huge bra like this! It's miles too big for me."
"Stand up, Fluffy!"
"Oh, mum!"
"Stand up! And don't slouch like that, stand up straight. That's better. Pull your shoulders back. Oh, my God!"
"That shirt wasn't really big enough for her anyway, Mrs Duffy."
"It's certainly not going to fit her now. Not with no buttons. You'd better come home. You've got some explaining to do. So has ... Danielle, tell your dad I'm sorry but I've had to take Fluffy home, there's a good girl."
"But I've got to fetch my things from the bedroom..."
"None of your things will fit you any more," Mrs Duffy pointed out. "Come on! You can see Danielle in the morning. Danielle, would you say thank you to your dad for having her?"
"Having her?"
"What did she mean by that?" Mrs Duffy asked as soon as they had gone indoors and shut the front door.
Fluffy stalled, playing for time while praying for a merciful thunderbolt. "Mean by what, Mummy?"
"Was Danielle at home all the time you were at the Devonshires' house?"
Already scarlet, Fluffy slowly turned crimson. "Danielle? Home?"
Mrs Duffy waited, saying nothing.
"Not all the time, no."
Somehow the tension in the atmosphere seemed to ease. "I'm glad you told the truth, sweetheart. In fact, Mrs Devonshire told me she was going to be away for a few days. We had quite a little heart-to-heart about it before she went. Apparently, her hubby is no angel. You can tell by those obscene shorts he wears. They're not very nice in mixed company."
Fluffy swallowed.
"Well? What's the story? You were there for two nights, knowing your friend wasn't at home."
Fluffy crossed her fingers behind her back. "She was at home last night. And I didn't know she wasn't going to be at home before I went!"
"But you didn't come home! God, child, it's only round the corner. Practically next door! Out with it! Don't try and cover up for him. What did he do to you?"
That was one hell of a question. How long have you got, mother?
Mrs Duffy changed tack. "How old did he think you are?"
"He knows. I told him. That is, I didn't really tell him; Discoveries did. It was on their computer..."
"What was he doing at Discoveries with you?"
"Buying me a new bra, of course. I told him to get me one!"
"You told him to ... he paid for this?"
"He took me to some place miles away from Brocklehurst. There was a kind of shopping village there..."
"Beanchester Retail Village? That's miles away!"
"That's right, I told you it was. There was a Discoveries bra shop there, with a bloke in charge, called Gerard."
"A man, selling custom-made bras?"
"He's different, mum. I've met a few different people in the last couple of days." She decided that this neither the time nor the place to tell the whole story. She cut to the chase. "Anyway, Ray ... Mr Devonshire bought me this new bra — well, not this one I'm wearing now, this was two bras ago — and a new bikini as well, 'cos Danielle's didn't fit me properly..."
"You'd been parading around in front of Mr Devonshire in a bikini?"
"I s'pose so," Fluffy admitted forlornly. 'Parading' seemed to sum it up pretty well. "And some shirts, and these stretchy pants, and dozens of knickers and a sweater and a silky blouse, ooh, and a blanket and some towels..."
"A blanket?"
"I fell in the fountain and got wet. And this nice lady in the shop came out and wrapped a blanket round me and took me inside, and she was different, too, like Gerard only different different, if you know what I mean." Fluffy decided not to mention the nice photographer who had given her his business card.
"You've been a busy girl, Fluffy! What else? What about ... at bedtime? Did he...?"
"No! That is, Mr Devonshire didn't do anything to me." Her mother's eyes narrowed. Fluffy took a deep breath and noticed her mother's gaze flicker down to her yawning cleavage. "I did it to him!"
Mrs Duffy sat down. "I don't understand. How ... why ... did he get you drunk?"
Fluffy thought about that one, too. "Not exactly. He gave me a can of beer but I tipped it all over my chest. It tasted horrible, but it was quite nice, so I had another. Or maybe two. Does drunk mean when you can hit yourself on the head and you can't feel it?" She slapped her forehead.
"You're not drunk now, are you?"
"No, I can feel it now. But I tried cider and it tasted better but it wasn't so nice as beer. I haven't tried wine or whisky yet..."
"So you got yourself drunk, and then he lured you into bed?"
"It wasn't easy! He wanted to sleep downstairs."
Mrs Duffy had buried her face in her hands during this recitation. She made a decision.
"We'd better take you to the doctor first thing in the morning."
"What for? There's nothing wrong with me!"
"Maybe not, but you have outgrown half a dozen bras in less than a week, and you seem to have started a new career as a teenage prostitute..."
"Mum!" Tears sprang from the girl's eyes. "You can't ... not to the doctor..."
Mrs Duffy stared at her daughter for a moment longer, then held out her arms. "Oh, come here! It's all right. We're only seeing the doctor for a routine check-up, and maybe to do something about — if we're not too late — stopping you getting pregnant. It's obvious the changes in your body have affected your judgement."
Fluffy felt her mother's arms around her, a warm, comforting feeling. "What about my ... my...?"
"These things? What about them?"
"You're not going to make me have an operation? To chop them off?"
"Chop them off? After what I went through? Over my dead body! They are absolutely incredible! If they'd let me keep mine, just think, I'd have been as big as you when I was at school. You don't want to know what I'd have been up to behind the bike sheds!" She nuzzled her daughter's hair, rocking her like a baby. "Now, how much sleep have you had these last few nights?"
"Not a lot," Fluffy confessed with a wry grin.
Her mother held her at arms' length, at which distance Fluffy's breasts were still pressed firmly against her. "Right. Get yourself upstairs, draw the curtains and have a decent night's sleep, okay? We'll do something about all this business tomorrow morning." She started towards the door. "And Fluffy?"
Fluffy turned round.
"You've got a very womanly bum, too."
"Tell me about it," said Fluffy gloomily. "I'm so fat. Even if I didn't have these monster things, I still wouldn't be able to play games any more."
"You can be good at lots of other things besides games!"
Fluffy turned round again. She looked into her mother's eyes, and smiled back at her through the hot tears. Suddenly, she felt very tired. But as she reached the foot of the stairs, her mother asked the $64,000 question. "Did he hurt you, sweetheart? He has got a very big one, hasn't he?"
"A big what?" Fluffy asked stupidly before she could stop herself. "Oh, you mean ... his ... willie?"
"His penis," Mrs Duffy said, trying not to smirk. "I couldn't help noticing. Those rather revealing shorts. I mean, the shorts themselves aren't extra small, or anything, it was just that he..."
Fluffy waited until her mother had finished digging herself into an ever-deepening hole. "I don't know," she said. "His is the only one I've ever really seen."
"It can't be! By the time I was fourteen, I'd seen dozens!" Mrs Duffy stopped, blushing. "I mean, ah, yes, I suppose it is, really. Well, take it from your mother, dear, Mr Devonshire's is a big one. A very big one indeed. Most women never get to play with one half that size."
"Oh." Fluffy felt unaccountably pleased with herself.
"You're sure it didn't hurt, baby?"
"Not really. I s'pose I'm quite big down there, and anyway, I was so wet it just kind of slipped in ... I mean, well ... I was a bit sore next morning, but we had done it rather a lot by then. About fifteen times."
That was more times than Mrs Duffy had done it in the last three years. She was becoming increasingly envious of her overdeveloped daughter. She watched as Fluffy wobbled massively upstairs and out of sight. Man, was that girl ever in for some disappointment when she grew up!
Epilogue
Fluffy came home from school and flung her books on the kitchen table. "I'm home, mum!" she called, making her way into the dining room, then out of the glass doors on to the patio. Nobody. This was a fine homecoming for a girl on her first day back at school after the summer holidays. There was so much to tell her mother, too. It's not often that a girl meets her classmates for the first time in just over a month, having grown more than a yard bigger in the blouse department in the meantime. Most of the girls and all the boys had been too scared to exchange more than half a dozen words with her.
On the other hand, she had been asked to stay after school to discuss extremely trivial matters with three of the teachers. She had made appointments with Mr Hopcroft (Physics) for Wednesday, Mr Eversley (History) on Thursday, and Miss Collins (Biology) on Friday. She didn't fancy Mr Hopcroft very much but she'd heard gossip that when Mr Eversley had played football against the boys' team he had made a deep and lasting impression in the showers afterwards. Ever since, students of both sexes regarded him with sly grins. Fluffy didn't know quite what to make of Miss Collins, who was said to be unusually fond of busty young girls, but if she was as affectionate as Charlie in the blanket store the meeting could be interesting as well as educational.
Then there was the news about Danielle, who had been relegated that morning to Year Three for an arithmetic test and had scored her most resounding zero of all time. Her nearest rival, a boy half her age, had thirteen out of twenty. So Danielle had been marched in to spend the rest of the day with a class of puzzled six-year-olds, trying to get her knees under the miniature desk and learning how to subtract five from thirteen — nine, she decided triumphantly, moving on to question two, fully twenty minutes after the rest of the kids had filed out and gone to lunch. It was the only question she could answer, and she got that one wrong.
Fluffy hadn't seen her friend since just after lunch that afternoon, talking to a considerably older boy over by the playing field. Obviously they were arranging a tryst for after school, and probably indulging in smutty talk. When the teacher's whistle sounded, Danielle reached up and gave the boy thirty seconds of wet, wide open mouth and questing tongue before joining her intellectual superiors in the kiddie-winkies class. The boy moved off, adjusting his well-stuffed underwear.
Danielle would be late home, to say the least.
Fluffy prowled around the house. It was simply not good enough. A mother's place was indoors, waiting to welcome her daughter home from school.
Where was the woman? The car was in the drive, and the back door wasn't locked. Fluffy's back ached. She stretched, trying to get comfortable. What was that? A noise from upstairs? She went to the bottom of the stairs and shouted again.
"Mum, it's only me. I'm home!"
This time she definitely heard something. A hasty creaking of bed-springs and a low muttering of voices. Her knees wobbled, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and her blood ran cold. Fluffy found this mixture of sensations interesting. Not even one of them had ever happened to her before, and now here she was, feeling all three at the same time.
Her mother — her own mother — was having it off with someone in the middle of the afternoon! It certainly wasn't dad, his car wasn't outside.
Another sensation was making itself felt. Fluffy was hungry. How was she going to get anything to eat if her mother was busy making love? At three thirty on a Tuesday? What did she think she was, French, or something?
Slowly it dawned on her that she had her mother trapped in her own bedroom. Whoever she was shagging up there couldn't get away until the coast was clear. Fluffy supposed her mother could leave him in bed and come back later for more. But what if he had another engagement? She sniggered at the thought of her mother being horny enough to employ a gigolo.
"Whew, it's so hot indoors! I'll be out in the garden," she sang gaily up the stairs.
She opened the fridge and found a chicken drumstick on a plate. It looked lonely so she liberated it. There were half a dozen boiled new potatoes in there as well, and half a pork pie, so she added a tomato in the interest of healthy eating, piled them all up and carried the plate out into the back garden, closing the door loudly behind her. She could watch the house from out here, and maybe catch a glimpse of her mother's lover as he sneaked out the door. She perched her big bottom on the rockery wall, at the far end of the garden, placed her laden plate beside her where she could see it, and sat there contentedly gnawing at her chicken leg. Just over the back fence was Mr Devonshire's garden. Would he be out there in his obscene shorts? Fluffy thought about that for a moment and opened the top five buttons of her school blouse. She began to sing a few lines of a popular song. He'd hear her! Would he come to the fence, stand on a chair and look over? Would he get a ladder and come and fetch her, carrying her off for a quickie or two before Danielle came home?
Sadly, he didn't. Maybe he'd gone to work.
Somewhere in the house, a door slammed suddenly. Damn, whoever it was had escaped and she'd missed him. But at least, it meant her mother would now be free and she could start making her dinner. Fluffy stuffed the last potato in her mouth like a chipmunk and made her way indoors. And as she emerged into the hall she was just in time to see her mother tiptoeing past, following a chunky male figure in the direction of the back door. What made it wholly unacceptable from Fluffy's viewpoint was that her mother was dressed in her underwear and nothing else. And the male figure looked oddly familiar. The couple stopped and embraced in the kitchen. Peering round the edge of the door at them, Fluffy's knees started wobbling again, with the now familiar accompaniment of self-erecting hair and chilled blood.
Looking over Mrs Duffy's shoulder and meeting Fluffy's gaze, Mr Devonshire must have suffered the same kind of feelings. He let out a shriek and stepped back, blindly feeling behind him for the doorknob. If by any chance Fluffy hadn't been able to recognise his face, there could have been no mistaking his other distinguishing feature. Mrs Duffy had insinuated it out of the leg-hole of his shorts, and it was frighteningly erect.
"Fucking hell!" Fluffy gasped at the sight of it, wondering how she'd ever managed to accommodate that thing. It occurred to her that she shouldn't really use such foul language in the company of her mother, but as her mother was engaged in a lewd act herself, maybe it was forgivable.
"Fluffy!"
"Sorry! I was getting hungry."
Mr Devonshire, unable to flee while his lover still had a hold of his cock, had started shrinking until his eyes wandered to Fluffy's exposed half-metre of cleavage. He began getting bigger again, a phenomenon which didn't escape Mrs Duffy's notice.
"You might at least put those things away and button yourself up, girl!" she told her daughter crossly. She relinquished her hold on the still swelling member but it didn't fall down.
"I'd better be going," suggested the owner of the erection, backing against the door and preventing it from being opened. The two women in his love-life glanced nervously at one another. They both had a great deal of explaining to do.
"Let's all have a cup of tea," said Mrs Duffy brightly. "I'll put the kettle on, shall I?" Obviously she'd been having far too much contact with the staff of Discoveries.
Unable to believe this was really happening, Fluffy followed her half-naked mother to the kitchen table and sat down. Mr Devonshire came too, his entire manhood — balls and all — having forced its way out of the left leg of his shorts. He took a seat next to Fluffy and they smiled uncertainly at each other while Mrs Duffy fussed with cups and saucers. They were smiling at one another entirely without eye-contact: Mr Devonshire's gaze was fixed on Fluffy's unfeasibly deep cleavage, while she was concentrating on his monstrous weapon.
Eventually they tore their eyes away and gratefully found somewhere else to look. Mrs Duffy had arrived at the table with what seemed to be an entire Victorian tea service, and as she busied herself with bowls of sugar cubes and little jugs of milk, her panties were just inches from both members of the audience. Fluffy felt distinctly uncomfortable; her mother was wearing underwear of a generously conservative design fully in keeping with her age and status, yet pubic hair was positively exploding out of it in all directions. Ye gods, and I thought I was hairy!
The hirsute display was pushing Mr Devonshire's buttons, too. He now had a pair of inconceivably huge young tits only a foot or so away from him, and on the other side, a veritable jungle of springy pubic hair. What was more, he had all too recently bedded both these excessive women — or more precisely, they had bedded him. To complete the icing on the cake, they were mother and daughter. It was more than flesh and blood could stand.
Fluffy was the first to realise what was happening, as Mr Devonshire's cock reared up like a stallion. She stood up and made a grab for it with both hands, but in leaning forward, about seventy per cent of her giant bust spilled out of the top of her bra and she had to stop and try to stuff it away again before it dragged her down on to the kitchen floor. Her mother had no such handicap. Giggling, she fell lithely to her knees, her mouth opened wide and she instantly engulfed their next-door neighbour, holding him there with two tiny hands.
"Oh, mum!"
"Mm fmmmf myoofemf!" her mother advised her, which shocked Fluffy, unused to such obscenity from her own dear parent. Mercifully, she was spared further embarrassment as Mrs Duffy was far too busy gulping and swallowing.
Fluffy could only sit and watch the show, which was over all too soon.
Then she had an Idea.
"It's my turn now, mum," Fluffy sighed dreamily, shoving her mother away so she rolled on to her back on the bed, helpless as a sheep.
Beneath the two of them, Mr Devonshire groaned. The previous thirteen hours had drained him mentally as well as testicularly. It had to end soon; Fluffy would have to get up and go to school.
Soon, but not yet.
Fluffy impaled herself on him for the thousandth time. "I know he's still alive, mum, I heard him moaning. And I can feel him getting hard again! Ooh, yes, Ray! Go on, mum! It's your turn to sit on his face!"
The End