CRUSADE AT ST CAT'S 

by Some Sort of Dog



WARNING: This warning is slightly different yet again, but it always says 
more or less the same thing. This story features schoolgirls with large 
breasts. If you don't want to read about such things, you know what to do. 
If you are a minor, wherever you live, read no further. It is probably 
against the law for you to read this material.

Although our young heroines are no more pure and virginal than any other 
human beings in their position, they are not depicted here as having sexual 
relations with adults. Such a prospect, indeed, would fill them with horror 
and disgust. The story is a fantasy. Some fantastic things may well happen, 
but NOBODY gets raped, killed, or explodes. You want that, there's plenty of 
such crudity available elsewhere. Go find it.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: Many of the characters in this story have appeared 
before. Although it is not strictly necessary, it might help if readers are 
already familiar with the other stories in the series. These are available at 
a number of ftp sites.






CRUSADE AT ST CAT'S

by Some Sort of Dog





Part I





Chapter 1:- An Ordinary Morning


It was a perfectly ordinary morning at St Catherine's High School for Girls. 

I awoke early, about half past six. It is still dark at that time of the day in 
November, but there was enough dim light in the bedroom for me to find 
my way to the window and peer out on to the quad where the security 
lights reflected on the stagnant waters of the school fountain and picked 
out the shadowy figures of a group of boys making their way off the 
premises. Shortly, the minibus would take some of them back to Lord 
Edward's School. Those less fortunate would wait in the misty drizzle for 
the first bus of the day into town.

In the distance, the milk tanker driver shouted his cheery farewell to the 
Head Girl of St Cat's, the gigantically endowed Cassandra Uddamore. The 
truck groaned its way up the drive to the main road from Cassandra's little 
Wendy house in the woods. Twice-daily visits of a milk tanker taking 
Cassie's milk to the girl-dairy in Fillamore Deepleigh had been causing too 
much disturbance, so Moggie had authorised the construction of a separate 
dwelling for the Head Girl, conveniently close to the Maternity Unit.

After all, Cassandra was unlikely to be succeeded as Head Girl for a 
number of years. The statuesque First Former, officially no age at all, had a 
further seven years of study at the school; and as her bust measurement 
exceeded that of her nearest rival for the post of Head Girl by something 
like four feet, Moggie felt that the investment was worthwhile. Not that it 
was a cheap chalet. Equipped with extra wide doors throughout, and a 
specially large reinforced bed, Cassandra's Little Wendy House set the 
school funds back by a staggering 100,000 pounds.

Moggie would never have been able to consider such expenditure without 
an anonymous donation from the newly formed and already flourishing 
First Form Sex Slavery Group. With the proceeds from the sale of the 
Second Form girl known as Goofy to the Grand Pasha Mandingo of 
Cantelopia - together with a three month's supply of enhancement 
chemicals sufficient to raise her theoretical bust size to twenty-four feet - 
First Form Sex Slavery Group Leader, Tessa (Toots) Lashmore had been 
able to hand over the obscene sum of 80,000 pounds to the Headmistress.

"Dere will be plenny more where dat come from, Miss Tunderbolt," Toots 
had assured her. "We gotta make a loss in de first year of trad-ing."

All was quiet in the quad. A last boy had been ejected from the 
dormitories, and scampered away out of sight. No doubt he would be 
putting on his clothes once he reached the shelter of the woods.

In the next bedroom, separated from ours by a small fitted kitchen, I could 
hear Anastasia stirring. In another ten minutes or so, she would be 
experiencing her first orgasm of the day: to be followed by further 
examples at a maximum of fifteen minute intervals until lessons started at 
nine am. Clark was already grunting, having been rudely awakened. Once 
he had climaxed, he would be taken back to Lord Ted's by taxi, leaving 
Anastasia to service the rest of her harem in her own time.

Anastasia seemed almost insatiable these days. At night, she was even 
worse. The complex relationship between FatLite and Uncontrollable 
Horniness  was occupying the best brains in the Second Form Sexual 
Chemistry Group. They were almost ready to admit defeat. The difficulty 
was that Suzanne was working almost unaided on the problem. Of her 
classmates in the Second Form Sexual Chemistry Group, Anastasia herself 
was perhaps too close to the situation. Shona was unable to stray too far 
from her personal heavy-duty breast pump, and her specially widened 
wheelbarrow brought with it a number of access difficulties. And Pansy 
had her baby to look after. Little Tanya had weighed eleven pounds nine 
ounces at birth, and even Nurse had congratulated Pansy on her fortitude.

The infant was now engaged on a one-girl crusade to rid the world of girl-
milk. Pansy, though - always a well-endowed girl even before her 
pregnancy had caused her breasts to balloon to immense size - was more 
than well equipped to cope with the demand, finding herself with a pair of 
udders which would not have disgraced a pedigree dairy shorthorn.

Pansy's Auntie Tanya had visited the St Cat's Maternity Unit. She had 
expressed the opinion that Little Tanya was even more of a hulk than she 
had been, and Suzanne in her turn. "You'd better order her a ScatBra for 
her sixth birthday," she had prophesied grimly before taking the infant to 
her own bosom. Tanya was breast-feeding her own three-month old 
daughter, Marianne, and her customary ninety inch bust presently almost 
rivalled Pansy's.

"It's about time you got yourself a baby as well, young Suzanne. Make me 
a grandmother before I'm twenty-five," Tanya had told her daughter 
sternly, to the girl's embarrassment and shame. Suzanne was still a virgin, 
for reasons she could not even begin to understand. If she went on like 
this, she would soon be the only virgin in the whole of St Cat's. At the 
moment, she could think of five others, off the top of her head, but would 
have been hard pressed to get it up to double figures. 

For most of the girls, sex was a matter of opportunity and availability: 
these days there were plenty of boys around the place, on the lookout for 
one thing and one thing only. There was nothing simpler than trying sex to 
see what it was like. Having once tried it, quite a few decided that it was a 
grossly over-rated pastime, while others proved utterly insatiable. 
Comfortingly, though, the vast majority of the girls settled down to a 
routine of having it off not more than half a dozen times a week.

"Couldn't you sleep, darling?" Corinne's voice was drowsy from the bed as 
it interrupted my musings. "I slept like a log last night." She stretched 
luxuriously.

"A pig, more like," I sneered harshly at her. "It was your snoring that woke 
me up, and there was no sleeping again after that."

Corinne said nothing. She refuses to accept that she snores. I have told her 
it is because she sleeps on her back, but she says she has slept on her back 
- as a matter of necessity - since she was twelve. True, that's the only 
sleeping position available to her now that her breasts are the biggest, 
probably, in the entire world. They are certainly too big for her to adopt 
the Smegs sleeping position, on hands and knees with her bottom in the 
air. Just as well, it is far too unladylike a position for my Cee.

At least, there is room for me beside her in the extra wide bed, now she 
has reduced her breasts again to a more manageable size. She still has the 
services of her twenty-four teenage boys - three teams of eight - to carry 
her breasts for her. For everyday transportation, of course, she can now 
get by with two boys to each side, but she has become quite attached to 
her boys. They've become attached to her as well.

There's nothing sleazy or untoward about the relationship, although Cee's 
boys undoubtedly find carrying vast breasts around all day tends to be 
quite arousing. The boys are certainly in much demand during their rest 
periods. But Corinne herself has never entertained any thoughts of 
improper relations with her boys. In fact, she has hardly seemed to 
entertain any thoughts of improper relations with anybody, apart from me.

That is, unless you count my Daddy, during the summer holidays, and even 
that is shrouded in uncertainty. I mean, Daddy certainly would, but Cee?

I felt a wave of warmth and love come over me as I looked at her lying 
there.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to call you a pig," I said forgivingly. "Coffee?" She 
nodded and squirmed between the purple silk sheets, slightly crisp in 
places with our combined girl-juices from last night. There was a stirring 
beneath the covers and a tousled head appeared.

"Coffee for you as well, Amy?"

Sexy Amy shook her hair out of her eyes and grinned at me. A chill trickle 
of something flowed down my inner thigh. The oversexed Fouth Former 
didn't sleep with us every night, don't go getting the wrong idea, but last 
night Corinne had a bit of a headache so we sent one of Anastasia's boys to 
the dorm to drag Amy over to the staff domestic quarters.

Actually, we had despatched three of Anastasia's boys, but the first two 
got lost or waylaid. Sexy Amy denied all knowledge, but I suspect she 
raped them. She smelled a bit sexy by the time she arrived. I mean, she 
always smells sexy, but this time she smelled of boys.

"You're late," I had told her when she finally arrived. "I think a spanking is 
called for."

Unfortunately, Corinne stepped in and said there was going to be no 
spanking at midnight in our bedroom, which disappointed Amy and 
disappointed me even more. I couldn't sleep after that, even with Amy's 
entire face buried in my sopping, dribbling, gushing intimate regions.

"I think Miss Meadowlark is asleep, Amy," I had whispered as the 
unnecessarily great clock in the tower over the quadrangle struck one, 
"you can spank me now!" But she didn't get more than two stinging blows 
in, one on each of my shamefully vast buttocks, before Cee woke up and 
the fun had to stop.

As the sounds of the St Cat's morning began to filter through into the 
bedroom, I inclined my head in invitation to Amy to come with me into the 
kitchen, but she was busy beneath the sheets again, with a sound like a 
thirsty dog polishing off an entire bowl of water. Lucky Corinne. 

From the kitchen, the sounds of love-making from Anastasia's room were 
almost deafening. She had become a very noisy little girl recently and she 
was obviously well into her fourth orgasm by now.

"Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-WOW, FOUR!" she yelled. The 'woo-woo' 
business she had picked up from me, I'm afraid, but the shouting of the 
number was her own little innovation. It must have taken great 
concentration to remember the score at such a crucial moment, but she 
said it actually helped her enjoy it. Fortunately, she reset to zero every 
morning, otherwise she might have been forced to yell something like, 
'four hundred and eighteen thousand, three hundred and forty six,' 
whenever she climaxed. Even so, returning to the room late at night, I was 
sometimes deeply shocked and not a little envious to hear Anastasia's 
crystal clear tones bawling out, 'WOW! Ninety-three!'

I stirred the coffee with a little more vigour to drown out the noise of 
Anastasia getting down to her Number Five. How many boys did she have 
in there this morning? Despite the temptation to look, and even to borrow 
one or two, I hardened my heart and carried the coffee over to Corinne. 
Amy had just come up for air. Her face and hair were slick with juices and 
it was imperative that I lick them off.

Twenty minutes later, I poured the cold coffee down the sink and made 
three more mugs.

"WOW! ELEVEN!"

Young Anastasia was obviously trying for a world record, bless her.

It was a perfectly ordinary morning at St Catherine's High School for Girls. 


**********

Moggie's meetings had changed subtly over the past couple of months.

I still sat with Corinne and Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen on my left, Smegs 
on my right, facing Miss Thunderbolt across her heavily come-stained 
green leather-topped desk. We still found the time for sexually intimate 
gropings, apart from Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, of course, but it wasn't 
the same, somehow.

It must have been something to do with the presence of the Student 
Delegation.

Sitting at the left hand of Moggie was the Head Girl. For the first couple of 
meetings of the full management committee, Cassandra had sat on Moggie's 
right, but in that position her mountainous breasts had blocked off almost 
all the light from the window, so she had been moved, with some 
reluctance, to the other side. Since her breasts would have completely 
occupied the top of the desk, she sat well back from the desk with them 
resting in her lap. As Cassandra's country upbringing would not allow her 
to sit idly without having something to do, she was crocheting a 
gargantuan tank top for herself. She told us she had used a pattern for a 
forty inch bust and multiplied all the dimensions by five. I personally had 
misgivings about her methods, as although one of the measurements would 
be about right, not even the Amazonian Cassandra was thirty feet tall.

Her twin heavy-duty portable breast pumps sighed and throbbed beneath 
the desk, and in quieter moments, the sound of milk spurting into the 
stainless steel container made me want to go to the toilet. It was doing it 
now, and I exercised the muscles of my pelvic floor, which stopped me 
pissing my pants.

"Are you feeling all right, Chauntaille?" Moggie looked at me with concern, 
while Corinne grabbed at the ever present roll of industrial paper towels 
and mopped up my ejaculate with little tutting sounds.

Smegs and Rumiko, at least, seemed pleased, as I had just assured their 
Japanese buyers of a pair of Shan Speciaru, worth an additional twenty 
pounds.

Rumiko was present as one half of the St Cat's Enterprises Group, which 
was responsible for worldwide sales of pre-enjoyed underwear as well as 
all aspects of sales and marketing of sexual products. These included 
chemicals and preparations. The days of mass-production were over: St 
Cat's now manufactured and sold niche products at appallingly high prices.

Cheaper versions of St Cat's products were available under supermarkets' 
own labels, and these were produced under licence in a single large factory 
in South Wales. Environmental pressure groups were already complaining 
about the effect of the fall-out from the factory upon the local population. 
The local population weren't complaining at all. Nor were the five custom 
bra manufacturers who had redeployed during the last month to 
Ystradgynlais, together with the operators of contraceptive dispensing 
machines.

Rumiko ruled her empire with a rod of iron - or possibly bamboo - but in 
return she fiercely supported her workforce and made sure their working 
conditions, pay and fringe benefits were the best obtainable. Her 
employees were literally hand-picked: Rumiko had interviewed and 
personally tried them all, male and female, before taking them on.

All were agreed, they had never attended an interview like it: the delicate, 
small-boned Japanese girl with breasts like pumpkins was a hard task-
mistress, but her workers would follow her to the ends of the earth for the 
prospect of one more touch of that soft mouth and that little pointed 
tongue on their most private parts.

The third member of the Student Delegation was the incredible Toots. In 
her role as Leader of the First Form Sex Slavery Group, she sat at Moggie's 
right hand, her breasts still casting an unusually large shadow for a ten-
year-old, although not as big as Cassandra's would have done. I gazed at 
Toots, as I often did, in disbelief. Her shiny skin seemed even blacker than 
usual this morning as the sun finally broke out and spilled through the 
window. Toots tended to interpret the school dress code rather more freely 
than most of the girls. This morning, her skirt, while the right shade of 
navy blue, was tight, short and leather. I could see right up it.

Toots did not subscribe either to the Rumiko-Smegs panties initiative nor 
to Clit and Flaps's alternative silk underwear replacement scheme. Toots 
had decided that VPL was not an acceptable price to pay for the degree of 
snugness she demanded in her skirts. She had elected not to wear panties 
at all. In such a short skirt, this resulted in an absolutely disgusting 
display. Corinne and Smegs dragged me down into my seat again as I 
leaned across the desk to view Toots's wetly-glistening furry cooze.

Her blouse, too, was in contravention of regulations. It was white, but so 
transparent that every detail of her shocking-pink ScatBra FreeTips E was 
visible, including the parts that weren't there, like the five-inch diameter 
holes where her nipples and areolae peeped through. By clever tailoring, 
the blouse did not simply stretch across the peaks of her fat, rounded 
breasts, it dived into her cavernous cleavage, so the buttons, as well as her 
St Cat's necktie completely disappeared between the great heaving globes. 
This was a most unusual effect and I studied it at length.

"Chauntaille, pay attention, please," Moggie was saying. She sounded so 
agitated that even Smegs took her face out of my crotch and rested her 
chin on the desk to look at the headmistress anxiously.

"Yes, Miss Thunderbolt," I murmured, and forced Smegs back between my 
thighs again. "Woo-woo-woo-woo WOW!" I said conversationally, and the 
members of the Student Delegation studied their fingertips in deference.

"That's exactly what I meant!" stormed Moggie. She was angry about 
something. "No sooner had I told you the latest amendment to the school 
rules, Miss Gruntworthy, but on your very next orgasm, you ignored me 
completely!"

"Ignored you, Miss?"

"You said, 'woo-woo-woo-woo ...'" It was too exciting, I joined in with 
Moggie and had another orgasm there and then. We finished, '... woo-woo-
woo-WOW!' simultaneously and Moggie screamed at me, "you did it again!"

"I know, Miss. I couldn't help it. Miss Mountains is chewing my clit, Miss!"

"I don't care," Moggie started, then stopped, her eyes boggling. "Chewing 
it?"

"Yes, Miss." Moggie, Toots and Rumiko stood up to see. Cassandra stayed 
seated, of course, but looked interested. "Woo-woo-woo-woo-WOW!" I 
murmured softly, not entirely for their benefit.

"That's enough! Stop it at once!"

Smegs crawled out into the open, blinking at the light and spitting out 
curly hairs. Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen opened the window and Rumiko 
turned on the desk-top fan. Despite these measures, Moggie was clearly 
overcome by fumes. "Rumiko, quickly!" she hissed, and the delicately-
featured Japanese girl raised the headmistress's skirt and applied her 
much sought-after pointed tongue to the very centre of Moggie's sexuality.

"Oh, fucking hell!" she roared, "NINETEEN!"

There followed several minutes of respectful silence, while Moggie 
recovered her breath.

"Thank you, Rumiko, you may sit down now. That is the way to do it, 
Chauntaille," said Moggie. "Even in the depths of the most intense orgasm I 
have experienced for several hours - thank you Rumiko, you may sit down 
now - I still called out the score at the end. I obey school rules, Chauntaille! 
Thank you, Rumiko, you may sit down nowww-wow-wowoWOOFFF! 
TWENTY!"

Toots explained.

"You gotta call out de score at de end of every org-asm, Miss Gruntworthy, 
it de new rule. Anastasia suggest it to Miss Thunderbolt las' week. Great 
idea, huh?"

I failed to see the point of it myself.

"What if you don't?" I asked. "What if you don't call out the score, or get 
the number wrong?"

"You simply never listen, do you Chauntaille?" explained Moggie. "The 
punishment is a good spanking."

I thrust Smegs's eager face back into the cess-pit of my streaming sex once 
more. The meeting was suspended as she sucked and nibbled on me.

"Oh, shit! Wow! Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-Fucking Hell! Woo-woo-woo-
WOW!" I screamed. "ONE!"

"That's it! I am disappointed in you, Chauntaille. You of all people should 
be setting an example to the children in your care. Take your skirt and 
knickers down at once and bend over the desk!"

There was a knock on the office door.

"Come in, Amy!" Moggie called.





Chapter 2:- Moral Backlash


Pansy lifted Little Tanya out of her crib and began unbuttoning her blouse. 
Two other girls got up and helped her with the buttons which were out of 
her reach. A third girl unsnapped the five large press-studs and hinged 
down the feeding flap of Pansy's puce Maternity ScatBra E, size 
EMAT/SBSMXXLCW8.

Little Tanya latched on immediately with loud suckling noises, and the 
class began to echo to the sounds of ecstasy. It was useless.

"Did you have to do that now, Pansy?" I complained. "It's disturbing 
enough to have you interrupting the English Smut class by getting your 
udders out, but surely you could manage without having orgasms?"

"You try it, Miss," Pansy panted. The rest of the class, apart from Suzanne 
who was staring out of the window, were now clutching themselves 
beneath the desks, eyes shut tight, moaning. "Every time I feed, I come. I 
can't help it."

"The rest of the class doesn't need to join you. They're not feeding."

"They're coming, though, Miss. It's not my fault. I just seem to trigger them 
off somehow."

She did, too. By the time Little Tanya swopped sides and got to grips with 
Pansy's grotesquely swollen left tit, a ragged chorus of numbers rang out 
from the girls as they sprawled helplessly in their seats. It was a 
disgraceful display of lewdness and I had great difficulty in fighting back 
my emotions.

"Let it go, Miss," Pansy urged me. "Stop biting the edge of the desk and 
come. You'll feel a new woman! SEVENTEEN!" she added.

"That's enough! All of you, quiet, and sit up straight. Right, which was the 
girl who just said 'eighty-five!'"

I might have guessed. Anastasia put up her hand slowly. She kept her 
other one in her lap.

"Anastasia, it's still only eleven in the morning! You can't have come 
eighty-five times today already?"

"Sorry, Miss. It's getting worse. I had a chain reaction before breakfast and 
came for ninety minutes non-stop."

"You stopped for breakfast?"

"Oh, yes, Miss, of course. I can't miss my breakfast. But since my boobs got 
smaller, I've been getting hornier and hornier. Clark doesn't mind, he says. 
You don't need big tits to be sexy. That's why I love him so much, Miss. He 
says the nicest things. I know I'm down to a hundred and twenty inches, 
Miss ..." she studied her readout card, "... a hundred and nineteen, but he 
says he doesn't mind me being small busted."

"Oh, good!" The little slut was still giving a reading twenty-four inches 
bigger than me. I had to wear my readout card, but I made sure it was 
covered up. 95-38-46 was shameful. Anyone would think I was pregnant.

"Don't worry about being so small, Anastasia," Pansy shouted, as soon as 
she had finished her eighteenth. She wiped Little Tanya's mouth and 
dangled the baby over her shoulder. Her three girls came and buttoned her 
up again, and wiped the infant's vomit off Pansy's back.

Pansy's breasts were truly ridiculously developed now, with the milk and 
everything. Her cousin Suzanne had always been much bigger, but she was 
miles behind now, just a slightly dumpy girl with a normally immense St 
Cat's bust. Not even three figures, the poor girl. I sympathised with her. As 
if it wasn't bad enough that she alone had failed to have an orgasm while 
Pansy fed her baby, Suzanne was still a virgin. At almost twelve! It was 
scandalous.

Nightly, she watched her Second Form dorm-mates preparing themselves 
for a night of sex of one sort or another, with a dab of perfume behind 
their ears, between their ever-deepening cleavages and inside their 
panties. Every night, Suzanne cried herself to sleep, too miserable even to 
bring herself off.

How did I know all this? Suzanne's older cousin, Victoria, briefly Head Girl, 
had told me the whole story one night in bed. This was not what it seemed. 
Sexy Amy had been indisposed, and as her bestest friend, Victoria had 
bravely stood in for her. She had much to learn, but she had vast reserves 
of enthusiasm.

The classroom door opened and Moggie came in. The girls gasped 
orgasmically. The headmistress was obviously going out on a date. She had 
changed into a slinky dress in clinging white jersey. It hugged her hips in a 
manner which I found distasteful, revealing several inches of milky thigh 
above the tops of her black stockings - in fact, it even showed glimpses of 
alternate buttocks as she wobbled into the class on her towering heels - 
and simply acres of quivering cleavage.

"Shit!" she said peevishly, tucking a nipple back into her inadequate 
bodice. "That keeps happening. It's not too low cut, is it?"

"No, of course not, Miss Thunderbolt," I reassured her as the other nipple 
peeked out into the daylight, followed moments later by the rest of her 
breasts. They lay there on her chest like a couple of water-filled balloons, 
while she fumbled uselessly with the spaghetti-thin shoulder straps of the 
dress. 

"This won't do at all," she sighed. "It fitted me fine in the shop. I shall have 
to change into something more practical for the Governors' Meeting. But if 
I may, Miss Gruntworthy, a word with you outside."

I rose stickily from my chair and followed her out of the room, immersed 
in a fog of perfume that made my head swim.

"What on earth have you been doing in there, Chauntaille? The class smells 
like a Turkish brothel."

I remembered in time that Miss Thunderbolt probably knew what a 
Turkish brothel smelt like. It occurred to me to wonder how she could 
possibly smell anything, drenched in perfume as she was.

"Pansy Woods was feeding her baby, Miss, and she came. The rest of us 
joined her, Miss."

"You too, Chauntaille?"

"Of course, Miss. You know me. If there's an orgasm in progress, I have to 
join in."

"I hope you all remembered to shout out the score."

"Of course, Miss."

"Good. Actually, I heard you all as I was coming down the stairs over in the 
other block. Which girl shouted 'eighty-five'?"

It was useless to try and deceive Moggie. "Anastasia, Miss."

"I worry about that child," she said. "She seems to be wasting away. I see 
she's lost another two inches off her bust this week. Is she mating?"

"She never stops, Miss. Clark and at least four other boys."

"That's a relief, anyway, I thought she might be pining for a lost lover. 
Keep an eye on her, Chauntaille. If she loses much more, we may have to 
FatLiten her up a bit. I don't like to do it, with her hormones the way they 
are, but you know the cost of the larger ScatBras, and it would be very 
wasteful to have her drop below three figures. How old is Pansy's baby 
now?"

"A month," I said wonderingly.

"Excellent. I hope she's seeing someone."

"Seeing?"

"A boy. Mating again. Her aunt mentioned to me that if the girl was going 
to start a family at eleven, it would make sense if she carried on and had 
the whole lot straight off, then she could catch up on her lost childhood 
later. She said it was one of her greatest regrets that she had had young 
Suzanne, then left such a long gap before she had her latest little girl, 
Marianne. She's booked her in here."

"She's what?"

"She's signed Marianne up for St Cat's. Not straight away, but as soon as 
her boobs arrive. If they start growing as early as young Suzanne's did, it 
will save so much time if we get her educated straight away. You have to 
plan ahead, you know. Cassandra can't be Head Girl for ever!"

"No, Miss." I was flabbergasted.

Moggie had taken leave of her senses, obviously. She tried a new technique 
with her dress, heaving the straps out to the front, breathing in and 
quickly plopping both breasts inside the bodice and hauling the straps up 
on to her shoulders before it could all escape again.

"Why didn't I try that before?" she said. "I can wear this dress after all. 
After all, I did buy it especially for Professor Garibaldi. I want him to 
increase his allocation of boys to St Cat's. Forty is a pitiful number. Half a 
dozen boys to each dorm! No wonder our girls are forced to go further 
afield in search of decent cock. They deserve the best. Right, must dash! 
You really ought to control your girls more, Chauntaille. Listen to them!"

A chorus of moans and sharp cries had built up on the other side of the 
classroom door. Numbers were being called out. I clearly heard Anastasia's 
tortured yell of 'eighty-seven'. She must have slipped a quiet one in when 
I wasn't listening.

I watched Moggie undulate away along the corridor. At the doors at the 
end, she stopped and inspected herself in the full length mirror, did her 
best to conceal her nipples again, then I heard her voice raised in song as 
she disappeared outside.

What is this school coming to, I wondered, and ducked back into the 
stinking classroom again.

"Quiet, please, girls. Can you try to keep Little Tanya quiet, Pansy, please. 
Yes, give her some more suck if that's the only way." Three girls sprang to 
their feet and unbuttoned Pansy. 

Ten minutes later, I dismissed the class and wobbled out on rubber legs to 
sit on the wall of the slimy-green fountain in the quadrangle. Something 
was going to have to be done.


**********

The feeding area for nursing mothers in the school restaurant had always 
been big enough. As I sat with Corinne at tea-time, we realised that in a 
few more months there was going to be a real problem. Until now pregnant 
girls, while not a rarity, were at least worth a second glance. In fact, I 
usually gave them two or three glances, in case they turned out not to be 
pregnant, just huge-breasted.

Now, as we watched the girls lining up at the counter, it was obvious that 
the latest crop was a bumper harvest. As the usual number of girls who 
had fallen during the summer holidays was added to those who had caught 
as a result of the Uncontrollable Horniness at the St Cat's Grand Open Day, 
we could see that pregnant girls now outnumbered the rest, especially 
amongst the Juniors and Middles.

"How will Maternity be able to cope?" I asked Corinne. "Will the school be 
able to keep all the girls? We might have to get rid of some and exchange 
them for virgins. That's terrible!"

"There's another," Corinne pointed to a particularly heavy-looking girl 
loading up her tray.

"She's not preggers, that's all tit," I said with absolute certainty.

"Nah, she's in the club. Look at the healthy glow on her cheeks, that just-
fucked look."

"That could be because she's just been fucked," I said. "I'm going to have a 
look." Corinne was ten yards behind me by the time her breast-carrying 
boys had been summoned away from the next table where they were 
engaged in feeling up a crowd of lusty Fifth Formers. I helped one boy tuck 
himself away inside his jock strap, and he thanked me meekly.

"Now, look. She's not pregnant!" We stood close behind the girl as she took 
her laden tray and looked round for a vacant table. She was in the Fourth 
Form, a new girl this term. She looked at us with a startled expression, the 
two teachers studying her bulging abdomen, one of those two teachers 
with her silk-shrouded breasts slung across the shoulders of two pairs of 
almost naked boys.

"Are you pregnant," asked Corinne, always a believer in a direct question.

The girl paled. "Not yet, Miss. These are my tits!"

"I don't believe you," Corinne snorted, glowering at my smirking 
expression. I wished we had placed a bet on it.

"I am, Miss. They started growing last week, and look at them now!"

"Last WEEK?" My voice rose to a squeak. Corinne was silent.

"Nurse says I've got virginal breast hypertrophy. Apparently there's a lot 
of it about. I thought I was never going to get boobs. By the weekend, I'd 
got some. Now I've got these."

She put her tray down on the table and swiftly unbuttoned her blouse. 
Corinne and I looked at her for several seconds before we became aware of 
the throbbing erections of the four breast carriers. We flicked two each 
and they detumesced before our eyes. The girl looked disappointed to see 
them go.

"Do yourself up, girl," I told her. "And you'd better see about getting a bra. 
You can't walk round with those things dangling right down there."

"Yes, Miss. I mean, no, Miss!" The girl blushed prettily.

"What's your name?"

"Jennie, Miss. Jennie Wolstenholme." 

"Go and see Miss Clit in the morning. She'll fix you up."

"Thank you, Miss. I was wondering if I might have to wait until I stopped 
developing. And Miss?" She addressed Corinne. "If I get to be as big as you, 
Miss, can I have boys, too?"

The boys had no doubt in their minds at all. Whimpering like puppies, they 
strained to get closer to Jennie. She seemed to be giving off pheromones or 
something. The erections had returned to their posts, but I decided to 
leave them be. They looked quite charming, all different sizes, throbbing 
away at different rates.

"And would it be all right to get pregnant, too, Miss?" Jennie looked 
longingly at the boys' loins.

"Think about it first, Jennie, dear," I advised. "It's a big step."

"Yes, Miss." She looked crestfallen. "Only I thought it would be nice to have 
a baby before next summer holidays. Then my next one would be born in 
the Spring."

"Jennie, NO! Come and see me in my classroom first thing in the morning," I 
told her. "Now, leave those boys' willies alone and go and have your tea."

The girl let go with both hands, picked up her tray and slunk away. She 
had looked as if she wanted to grab hold of all four. We returned to our 
table.

"The standard of morals at this school is going downhill fast," I told 
Corinne. 

"Hardly surprising, really. What do you propose to do about it?"

"I think we need a moral crusade."

"Golly!" Her big eyes lit up. "That's why I love you so much, Shannie. No 
matter how crazy an idea is, you grab it with both hands."

I hastily let go of the two boys nearest to me, and wiped both hands on a 
tablecloth. Four girls got up from the table and moved away with their 
plates in case I felt like spreadeagling myself right there and then. I 
wonder sometimes just what kind of a woman the girls think I am.

"You mean, you won't help me?" I was unable to resist grasping the cock of 
the smallest and prettiest of the boys and wiping its moist head up and 
down my steaming slit. Just as well I had forgotten to put panties on again.

Corinne watched me and sighed heavily. "Course I will. The St Cat's Moral 
Crusade. When do we start?"

"No time like the present. This is a desperately urgent matter. How about a 
week next Tuesday?"

"Sounds fine, darling. Look, it's half past five. What would you say to a 
quickie?"

Before she had the words out of her mouth, I had ejected the pretty boy 
and was already on my feet, heading for the door. Corinne panted after me, 
three of her boys leading the way. The pretty one was slumped on the 
floor, being ministered to by a circle of coo-ing young women aged from 
ten upwards.

"Shall I see if Sexy Amy's free?" I asked Corinne. I was frothing like a 
magnum of Bolly.

"Not this time, sweetheart! I thought, just us. And maybe the boys!" I 
swear she was blushing. And I thought the girl had no shame.





Chapter 3:- Loss Of Face


The Fourth Form dormitory was relatively silent for a change as the girls 
concentrated hard, each on her intimate thoughts. Victoria, her voice 
strangely muffled, shouted, "... woo-woo-woo WOW! THIRTY-SIX!" and 
flung her arms and legs out like a starfish, scattering boys in various 
directions.

Three of them became unplugged from various orifices, while four more 
were sent flying by her monstrous tits.

"Have you finished with those boys, Tor?" It was the new girl, Jennie 
Wolstenholme. "Only I need fucking before I explode."

"Take a couple, Jen. Leave me the rest."

"Thanks." Jennie sauntered over, unnervingly nude, and the boys backed 
away apprehensively. She made her selection and dragged them away by 
their suddenly flaccid cocks.

"Why don't they like Jennie?" Sexy Amy paused in her activity and asked 
Toria. "Does she smell?"

"A bit. Not much worse than anyone else. Not as bad as some of the Juniors 
who shag fourteen hours a day and never take a shower. Anyway, boys 
like the smell of pussy, for some reason. No, I think it's because she comes 
on so pushy. I mean, she doesn't NEED to be naked at seven in the evening. 
Her tits dangling down like that, no wonder she puts boys off."

Amy resumed thrashing her beanbag with her cane. Dust rose in little 
spirals.

"What are you doing, Ames," Toria asked at last.

"Practising spanking Miss Gruntworthy," said Sexy Amy dreamily, her eyes 
and lips moist, biting her lip. "Ooooh!" she said. "Twenty-nine!"

"Liar! You were past thirty at tea-time when that big Sixth-Former went 
down on you in the restaurant."

"I was not!"

"Were."

"That was her shouting thirty-two! I didn't even come. I was thinking of 
food."

"Thinking of food in the restaurant? You're sick!"

"That's why I'm spanking this beanbag. Boys and stuff don't get me off 
these days. The only way I can come is when I spank Miss Gruntworthy."

"Come over here and I'll get you off."

Amy looked uncertain. She gave an extra firm spank to the beanbag which 
betrayed no particular pleasure at the experience. "It won't work," she 
said.

"Come and try. I've still got five boys." The boys looked up like dogs, their 
heads tilted to one side. They were all from Lord Ted's school, as denoted 
by their blue armbands, which was all they wore.

It was one of Rumiko's and Toots's innovations, identifying the boys. The 
aim was to make it easier to return unconscious or incoherent boys to their 
place of origin when they had been used. Each local boys' school wore a 
different colour armband, while the unattached boys from the town wore 
plain white ones.

Visiting workmen, contractors and delivery staff were issued with black 
armbands, and these were most highly prized by the girls of St Cat's. 
Nevertheless, the blues of Lord Ted's were always popular, clean and well-
turned out. Rumour had it that they were individually inspected by 
Matron before leaving their school, with special attention to their wrinkly 
bits. Further rumour had it that some boys never got off the premises, 
being snared by Matron for her own dreadful needs. There was a time-
honoured tradition at Lord Ted's that no boy ever spoke of what happened 
to him in Matron's room.

Amy laid down her cane and approached Toria's bed. "I probably won't 
enjoy it," she said, as the boys stood up dutifully, their heavily-swinging 
genitalia still glistening with Toria's intimate fluids. "You can have four, I'll 
just have one."

"You must be ill, Ames," Toria said solicitously. "You ought to see Nurse."

"There's nothing wrong with me," maintained Amy. "Just give me my boy 
and I'll see him all right. He won't be disappointed." Amy might not have 
been feeling one hundred per cent, but she was a professional to her 
fingertips. She clambered on to Toria's bed, lapping in passing at her 
friend's slightly pungent pussy.

Toria sighed deeply. "We don't actually need the boys, Ames. You can lick 
me out and I'll rub your tits for you."

"No, let's get it over with. Is that one mine?" Amy pointed to a tall, 
uncircumcised boy with startlingly red hair."

"Yeah. I've had him a few times before. He used to be a bit premature, but 
he's getting better. His friends call him Reuben."

"Reuben, huh? Life is full of surprises. Come on, then, Reuben, come to 
Amy." She reclined and parted her legs. Sexy Amy was an extremely 
handsome young woman, with breasts to die for, a slender waist and 
shapely legs, now parted to receive her man. The lips of her sex slowly 
opened like the petals of a somewhat sticky flower, and a trickle of 
moisture traced its way between her pubic hairs and disappeared into the 
darkness.

"Ungggghh," said Reuben. He was still standing beside the bed, looking 
down on the glorious sight beneath him. Amy smiled encouragingly and 
held out her arms, pursing her lips and making a silent little air kiss. "Oh, 
fuck," Reuben grunted.

"Oh, fuck, Rube!" The other four boys looked at him in horror as his loins 
spasmed, and he glopped several droplets of sticky sperm on to the bed 
between Amy's knees.

She sat up with a heavy sigh. "That happens all the time," she said. "There 
must be something wrong with me. Every time I have a boy, he does that. 
Then they all seem to lose interest in me. Am I as ugly as that, Tor?"

"It's not you, Amy. Have another boy. I don't need four." Reuben slunk 
away and sat on the floor, a lonely and desolate figure.

"Oh, I can't decide which one I want. They're all the same." Amy closed her 
eyes and pointed at the group. The boys shuffled their feet and tried to 
avoid the pointing finger, finally thrusting one of their number to the 
front, just as Amy opened her eyes again and smiled dazzlingly at him.

He came instantly, before he even reached the bed, spilling his seed upon 
the ground. The three survivors gaped at the watery white drops on the 
linoleum.

Toria was aghast. "What did you do to him, Ames?"

"Nothing. I told you. They see me and they shoot their load. Maybe I'm just 
too sexy to have sex. I'm going to finish myself off and go to bed." She slid 
three fingers between her dewy lips and began to pant like an overheated 
dog.

Three male voices joined her, grunting and clutching at themselves. They 
looked around for help, at Toria, at each other, but their eyes were 
inevitably drawn back to the vision of Sexy Amy. It was a four-way photo-
finish.

"Yoweee! Wow! Oh, gosh! Help! Fucking HELL! THIRTY!"

By special dispensation from the Headmistress, visiting boys were excused 
from the requirement to call out a climactic number during orgasm. The 
three of them stood in a row and sprayed their spendings all over Sexy 
Amy. At least it wasn't wasted. She rubbed it in with both hands until her 
stomach and the inside of her thighs gleamed with semen. She smiled up at 
them sweetly.

"You little shit!" Toria screamed at her. You've used up all my boys. You 
always were a selfish cow. Fuck off back to your own bed!"


**********

The First Form dormitory was unnaturally quiet.

The regular inhabitants lay on their beds not daring to speak. Authority 
was in their midst. Toots sat in her armchair with a mobile phone pressed 
to her ear. Rumiko, a distinguished visitor, lounged at her ease on the floor, 
her white martial arts outfit failing to disguise her burstingly-full breasts. 
From time to time, she tugged at the front of the garment, trying to get 
comfortable. It was a losing battle. Rumiko, having experienced a dramatic 
burst of chemically induced breast growth just before she arrived at St 
Cat's from Japan fifteen months ago, was growing again. She had no idea 
why. At least, she hoped she had no idea.

Toots dropped the phone into the yawning chasm of her cleavage. "Bloody 
Pasha's always busy," she snorted. "I know what he doin', he shag de whole 
time. Fuckin' sex maniac. Your tits are growin', Rumi. I noticed last week. 
Dey even bigger now. What you been doin'?"

"I do nothing. My breasts grow all by themselves. No chemicaru, no FatRite, 
no Uncontrorrabaru Horniness. Just growing. Must be puberty. Shitting 
nuisance." She placed her delicate chin in her slender fingers and looked 
glumly at Toots.

The tiny black girl was not wearing a bra. It made little difference to the 
height of her breasts above sea level, but her nipples were so pointy they 
were almost punching holes in her revealing tube top. Actually, it was sort 
of meant to be a top, but after starting only three or four inches above the 
peaks of her hugely spherical globes, it went on a little further down than 
expected, ending just below Toots's crotch. Between those extremes, it 
clung tightly to everything it touched, and dived eagerly into every bodily 
orifice it could find.

"So are mine," she complained. "Dese things haven't stopped growing for six 
months now. I used to have my phone number the same figures as my 
measurements, and it was okay, until dey start to grow. It cost me 
hundreds of pound changin' me number three times in a month. At least, I 
don't need a phone number now I've started school." She dragged her 
phone out of her scented cleavage and pressed the memory button again. 
This time, she perked up. "It ringin'!" she said.

"Hey, Pasha! Me man! How dat girl doin'? Yeah, Goofy! She is? Shee-it, if I 
known she was gonna get dat big I'd have charged you another five 
thousand. Yeah, a bit special, right? She done what? She DID? Wow. Listen, 
you want some more girls? Somethin' a bit EXTRA special? I tink we can 
help you ..."


**********

Rumiko was late. Overdue. It was not like her at all. The latest revelation 
from Toots made her even more worried. The First Form Sex Slavery Group 
Leader was proposing to sell off some of the surplus pregnant girls from St 
Cat's to the Grand Pasha Mandingo of Cantelopia.

The telephone conversation had been brief and explicit. The Pasha, it 
seemed, was into young girls. He was very much into young girls with huge 
breasts. He was even further into young girls with huge breasts who just 
happened to be pregnant. It allowed him to indulge all kinds of fantasies 
involving milk and enemas and stuff. To Rumiko, it all sounded most 
unpleasant.

Toots's scheme was to send the girls out to Mandingo for a limited period, 
until their babies were two months old. They would then be sent home and 
replaced by others, who had reached their seventh month. 

"It's a great plan, Rumi! Every girl we send, we get two thousand pounds, 
cash up front, paid into one of my accounts. The Pasha can handle twenty, 
thirty girls at a time, of all ages. That's something like a hundred and 
eighty grand a year! And we take the strain off de Maternity Unit, and 
Miss Thunderbolt get to sign up another twenty, thirty girls for de school, 
so she get de extra fees."

"What do you tell their parents?" Rumiko wanted to know.

"It's only like four months. Even if their mums and dads notice, we tell 
dem their lovin' daughters are on a Nature Study Project in the Rain 
Forests. Which is perfec'ly true!"

But now, Rumiko might have to reveal to her friend Toots that she herself 
was a candidate for a trip to the Pasha. The shame of it. The loss of face!

The scandal would kill her father. And her father would kill Rumiko. Not 
necessarily in that order.

She sat on the toilet and hefted her massive breasts one at a time with 
both hands. They were getting even more huge. The nipples were thick 
and stubby, and the areolae were darker, almost the colour of plain 
chocolate. The only thing that worried her was that she couldn't remember 
how it had happened. Not that she couldn't remember the name of the boy. 
English boys' names confused her anyway, and their faces all looked the 
same. And they all smelled of sour milk.

No, she simply couldn't remember when she had indulged in unprotected 
sex over the past three or four months. She was far too organised for that, 
and for her, much of the excitement of sex came from preparing her lover 
for the delights of her body, washing and soaping him, rubbing him down 
with big, rough towels before fitting a condom and rolling it down on to his 
erect member without using her hands.

Such a ritual had been a little disturbing for the other girls in the dorm, 
but after a few months, they got used to it as just another of Rumiko's little 
Oriental ways. So it came as shattering news to her that her body was 
telling her she was pregnant. And there could be no escape: if she was 
pregnant, she could hardly escape. She could never approach Toots and ask 
to be excused being sent to Mandingo. She would have committed suicide 
first.

"You in dere, Rumi?"

It was Toots, come looking for her in the toilet.

"Yes, I am here."

"Great news! I see Miss Thunderbolt. She say it's a great idea. We can do it. 
De first batch of thirty girls flies out next Tuesday!"





Part II





Chapter 4:- Export Drive


We couldn't fit thirty very pregnant girls into the school minibus. We had 
to hire a full-sized bus from the bus company in town. It certainly made 
an immediate and lasting impression on the driver when he stopped 
outside the school's main entrance and opened his sliding door.

Thirty heavily pregnant and in some cases preposterously huge breasted 
girls climbed aboard with their suitcases. They were followed by Corinne 
assisted by four of her boys, and me, with two more of them. They weren't 
necessary to carry my breasts, but they would help to occupy me and stop 
my hands shaking on the journey to the airport.

The girls were not travelling in school uniform, of course, as it would have 
made them too conspicuous. Instead, they wore their own clothes. 
Unfortunately, in most cases, their own clothes didn't fit too well any more. 
The girls had tried to squeeze their whopping seven-month bellies into T-
shirts and jeans, or floaty little summery dresses. They had failed 
miserably. It was just as well they were headed for a warm climate, as 
most of them had ended up with bare midriffs revealing dangerously large 
mounds.

Moggie hadn't been much help, either. "You can't wear your ScatBras 
either," she had told them severely. "They are an instant sign that you are 
St Cat's girls. Either wear ordinary bras or go without." 

Her announcement was met with floods of tears.

Inevitably, they went without, which meant big fat breasts lolling down 
over the girls' tummies in a deeply disturbing manner. Some tried to 
disguise them with loose T-shirts, as if there was such a thing as a loose T-
shirt for a bust measurement of three figures. Several of the group found 
that without the support of a ScatBra they had become rather pendulous. I 
noticed that one or two were wearing skirts borrowed from fatter girls, 
with their breasts hanging down inside. It was an elegant solution but 
deeply uncomfortable: I had often tried it myself.

The party was all aboard, waving and shouting through the windows of the 
bus. Quite a crowd had gathered to see us off, fuck-boys in various 
coloured armbands mingling with St Cat's girls with no attempt at secrecy. 
There was even some casual coupling taking place as girls became 
overheated with the excitement and had their way with the nearest 
available boy. Steam rose from their bodies into the November morning.

By the time the bus growled away up the curving driveway through the 
woods, there wasn't a dry eye, nor a dry seat, in the bus. Some of the 
younger girls were openly crying, and I sent my two boys back to comfort 
and succour them in their hour of need. In no time, the bus was filled with 
the sounds and smells of succouring.

Within the hour, we were on the motorway, and inevitably, as in any bus 
filled with nubile femininity, those who had managed to secure the back 
seat had already established explicit communication with the occupants of 
following vehicles. Mooning was in progress, and the glass of the rear 
window quickly became smeared with intimate juices.

I looked back to check that the girls were not getting up to any mischief, 
and realised that we were alone on the motorway. The normally busy M4 
was free of vehicles going in our direction. A long way ahead, there were 
one or two trucks and cars, but behind, nothing. I made my way to the 
back, holding on to the seats. Three cherubic, innocent faces looked up at 
me from the back seat. It smelled like a whorehouse.

"Hello, Miss Gruntworthy!"

"Where's all the other traffic gone?" I asked, getting straight down to the 
nitty-gritty.

"It all disappeared, Miss. Brenda got up on the seat and flashed her bottom 
at them, and suddenly there weren't any more cars there. They must have 
all stopped, Miss."

"Her bottom? Front or back?"

"Both, Miss. At the same time!"

The mind boggled. "Where's Brenda now?" I asked, peering around.

"Down there," said the spokeperson. "Underneath Danny and Valerie and 
Josie and Melanie and Princess Marguerite and Jonathan."

For the first time, I noticed the pile of writhing naked bodies in the corner 
of the back seat. I prodded ineffectually at them with a pencil, and finally 
managed to detach Danny, the prettier of my two boys.

"Come on, you lot. Out of it. Break it up."

Slowly, unwillingly, the pile of mostly pregnant bodies separated into its 
component parts.

"Valerie, Josie, Melanie, I am ashamed of you. Princess Marguerite, Your 
Highness ought to know better. Jeezus," I blurted, losing control of myself. 
"Look at your tits, girl! I mean, your breasts, ma'am."

"We know all about our tits," said Her Highness graciously, "they've been 
dangling round our fucking Royal pussy these last four months. Or they 
would have been if it wasn't for our ScatBra."

"I do beg your pardon, ma'am," I said, remembering my position of 
authority and getting up off my knees. "Now, all of you get dressed at once. 
Except you two!" I commandeered the two boys and sent them scampering 
nakedly up toward the front of the bus. The girls reluctantly began to 
climb into their wholly inadequate clothes. "And don't make me come back 
here again."

"No, Miss Gruntworthy," they said happily. Butter wouldn't melt in their 
mouths. "Miss?"

"Yes, Melanie?"

"Are you going to be getting dressed again as well? 'Cos if you're not, I bet 
your T-shirt would fit me."

It fitted quite well, actually, considering that Melanie was only a Second 
Former. I put my bra back on and climbed into her brief lacy top. It fitted 
where it touched. Melanie was obviously even bigger than she looked. 
Appearances can be deceptive.

"That top looks nice," Corinne complimented me when I got back to my 
seat. "It's a bit like Melanie's, isn't it? She fills hers better than you, 
though."

"Thanks, friend. This is hers."

"Oh, Shannie, I'm so sorry!" She covered my face and the exposed portion 
of my breasts with burning kisses. After ten minutes, she got bored and 
forgot what she was supposed to be doing. "Where's all the other traffic 
gone?" she asked, peering out of the windows.

"It crashed. Brenda flashed her crotch at it."

"But that's terrible, Shan!"

"A pity, yes, but it's done now." I was developing the St Cat's Junior Girls' 
fatalistic tendencies.

"How much longer to Gatwick? I need a serious piss."

"You should have gone before we came out," I said unfeelingly. "You knew 
it was going to take three hours. Now we're going to have to stop at the 
next services."


**********

"I changed my mind. I'll wait until we get to the airport," said Corinne 
perversely. "It's really too much hassle getting out here and getting the 
boys to carry my tits into the loo. You go, though. Keep an eye on the girls. 
I'll stay here and talk to the driver."

"But we only stopped for you," I seethed at her. "Now you don't want to go. 
And we can't just carry on, the girls have all got out. Look at them!"

We both looked at them.

"Come on, Cee. We've got work to do."

Don't ever stop at a motorway service station while escorting thirty half-
naked heavily-pregnant schoolgirls. Every time I thought we had them all 
rounded up, half of them were off again. We found them in the toilets, the 
shop, the arcade with all the video games, the restaurant and the Burger 
King. The whole place smelled like a whorehouse. It was going to need 
disinfecting after we had gone. 

Abandoned male figures drifted about with glazed expressions, trying to 
work out what they were going to tell their wives when they got home.

"Hello, dear. I've been raped by thirty pregnant schoolkids." Go for it, 
Mister. Stranger things have happened.


**********

We made it to the check-in desk by thirty seconds. There was a chaotic 
scene when the Princess Marguerite insisted on travelling First Class. A 
vast crowd had gathered round the Cantelopia Air desk. The girls' flight 
was crowded with passengers flying home for the Cantelopian 
Independence Day National Holiday Week. The crowd pushed ever closer 
from behind. The St Cat's girls were reacting predictably. Fucking was 
breaking out again on the outskirts of the group. It was time to create a 
diversion.

"Corinne, quickly." She had just emerged from the ladies toilets. To avoid 
attracting unwelcome attention, she had her four breast carriers raise her 
boobs on to their shoulders and walk along with their knees bent. To stop 
anyone noticing the presence of four semi-naked boys in ladies' rooms, 
Corinne had Clit make her a special T-shirt which stretched out over her 
breasts and hung down to conceal the boys.

It worked brilliantly. Instead of an almost naked woman with her breasts 
supported by slaves using silken slings, all that the casual observer would 
now see was a slim and beautiful if rather big breasted girl whose breasts 
protruded some five feet in front of her. This was, after all, an everyday 
occurrence at British airports. If the casual observer looked especially 
closely, he would see that the girl's breasts had eight naked brown legs.

"Come over here," I told her, and led the way to the Cantelopia Air desk.

Even men who are being thoroughly serviced by a group of half-naked and 
comprehensively pregnant schoolgirls are not made of stone. They caught a 
glimpse of Corinne and her giant T-shirt, and stopped what they were 
doing instantly. We strolled past the crowd, and picked up an entourage of 
admirers, all burying their noses in newspapers and paperback novels, 
while trying not to look directly at Corinne.

"Keep going," I urged her. "Now, quick, on to the escalator."

"Who are they all?" she hissed.

"Americans - here on business!"

Down we plunged to the ground floor, and quickly shot out of the terminal 
building. Through the windows, we could see fifty or so men with raging 
hard-ons, peering round corners and looking under seats for the amazingly 
busty girl who got away.


**********

I suppose the flight got off all right with our girls on it. There were no 
reports of any air crashes that day, although the entire motorway was 
blocked for nine hours, with tail-backs stretching across fourteen counties. 
Our bus driver took the pretty route home. Just Corinne, me and the six 
boys on the back seat, which for some reason smelled like a fish market.

The journey passed in no time.


**********

"Hey, Pash! How's it goin'? You get de girls okay? Great!"

Toots abstractedly stroked the shiny bulge of her left breast, reaching out 
to pass her hand down over her spiky nipple. She shuddered, then realised 
that her nipple seemed further away than usual. She half turned and 
looked at herself in profile in the full length mirror. Definitely bigger, she 
thought. More expense for another half dozen new school blouses in the 
finest silk.

Her hand rested on her stomach. Still just as taut as ever, although the 
waist of her skirt felt a little tight. The mirror showed her a little bulge in 
the blouse, a matching one below her waist. She almost dropped the phone.

"Shit! Not me too?" She listened again as the phone started jabbering at her 
again. "No, not you, Pasha. I was lookin' at meself in de mirror, and I gettin' 
bigger. Me boobs an' me belly. What? No WAY! Hey, if I get preggers, it 
gonna cost you a sight more than two thousand quid. You look after dem 
girls, man, okay! Later."

She slapped the antenna down into the phone and thrust it into her 
cleavage again. Thoughtfully, she went up the steps into the school and, 
with her breasts wobbling massively, climbed the stairs to the dormitory 
floor. By the time she reached the top, she was panting as if she had just 
enjoyed a good fuck. "Maybe I gotta work out more," she told herself. "I 
better have a word wid me Nigel."

She tried to creep past the door of the new Fuck-Boys' Rest Room without 
being noticed. No chance. Five of them came out, in boxer shorts, singlets 
and different coloured armbands.

"Toots, do we really have to work tonight? We've got a headache."

The black girl drew herself up to her full four feet six and took a deep 
breath. The boys staggered back in awe. Erections began to make an 
appearance, literally an appearance, through the holes in the front of their 
shorts.

"Headache, huh? And you all get a hard-on as soon as I stick me tits out? 
You lot get your asses on duty, now, or you'll get Punishment Number One." 
She swept away down the corridor, more than half of each fat breast 
visible from the rear.

"Punishment Number One? No, not Punishment Number One!"

"What's Punishment Number One," asked one of the boys.

"Dunno. But if Toots is handing it out, I don't think I want to be there."

"Where are you on tonight?"

The boy pulled a face. "Seconds. They eat you alive in there."

"Fourths are worse. They've got a new girl, her tits just got huge. Down to 
here! She's a mad dog! And she stinks, too. You need a clothes peg on your 
nose."

"Oh, no!"

"And that Sexy Amy. You can't get near her without coming. I tried holding 
back the other night, but it didn't work. I'd come ten minutes before, but 
she lay back and sort of grinned at me, right into my eyes, she did, and I 
just blew. Gallons of it, all over her."

"And that Victoria! She's crazy!"

"Is that Japanese girl still in the Fourths? I haven't seen her for a couple of 
days."

"You're lucky. She strips you off and washes you all over before you get to 
shag her. And she puts a thingie on your prick with her mouth."

The other boys commiserated.

"Funny though. I haven't seen her either. Wonder where she's gone. Girls 
with tits that size don't just disappear."





Chapter 5:- Chauntaille Takes Control


"It's not good enough, Miss Thunderbolt!" I was angry.

"What don't you like about it, Chauntaille? I think it's an excellent scheme, 
and so does Toots."

"You can't just export thirty pregnant schoolgirls away from civilisation, 
just like that."

"We're not exporting them. It's only for four months. Like a holiday. They 
have their babies, then they'll come home. By then, there'll be plenty of 
other girls ready to take their places. It brings in thousands for school 
funds and leaves us with at least thirty places for new girls. And thirty 
new girls is thirty more opportunities for pregnancy."

"But, Miss Thunderbolt ..." I was at a loss for words. The woman had 
flipped. She had finally flipped. 

"Chauntaille, I think I know what it is. You want a baby, too, don't you!"

"MEEEE?"

Moggie laughed softly with understanding. "You see all these lovely nubile 
girls, with their flawless skin, their lustrous hair, their ..."

"Gigantically swollen tits ...?"

"You put it so much more eloquently than I ever could, Chauntaille, my 
dear. You see these young girls with their insanely huge breasts, getting 
laid, getting pregnant, and it's only natural that a healthy woman of your 
age should want some of the action too. It may even explain the recent 
dramatic increase in the size of your waist and hips to a size which you 
probably agree is quite, quite disgraceful."

"Shameful," I agreed, hanging my head. "I deserve a hearty and thorough 
spanking."

There was a knock on the door.

"Not now, Amy," Moggie called out. "Later, perhaps. As you say, 
Chauntaille, you are now shamefully huge, and still getting larger. It is 
truly scandalous. But it is probably your body's way of telling you that it 
wants to have babies."

"What's my body got to do with it? I don't want a baby. Or babies. What 
kind of an example would that be to our girls? Besides, I didn't get 
pregnant after that session with Jeremy after the St Cat's Grand Open Day. 
If that didn't work, with about fifty gallons of jism swilling about in my 
guts for a week, nothing would."

"Oh, you poor darling! You really wanted Jeremy's babies, didn't you?"

"No." It didn't sound all that convincing, even to me.

"Perhaps you ought to see Nurse. Or better still, our new Fertility 
Consultant."

"Our new WHAT?"

"Fertility Consultant. Some of our girls are feeling left out, seeing their 
classmates having babies, getting hugely pregnant, having more babies ..."

"More babies? You mean some of the girls ...?"

"More than once? Of course. Some of the girls who had babies quietly, 
before we developed our new reproduction policy, are now having their 
second. Perhaps, in future years, girls will be able to come to St Cat's and 
have a baby every year until they leave with a ready-made family of 
seven lovely youngsters. It will save them so much time raising children 
later in life when they should be getting out and enjoying themselves."

"But there'll be hundreds of babies to look after, and children ..."

"When the time comes, we will open a creche, or a day-nursery. I am 
working with my school governors on a scheme which will allow St Cat's to 
operate seamlessly from birth to university." Moggie's eyes lit up and she 
strode to the window and stood looking out over the quad. "A girl will be 
born here to a young woman in the First Form. She will be looked after by 
our staff every day until her mother is ready to leave school. By that time, 
the girl will be seven, and approaching puberty. Already, I am thinking 
about a puberty advancement scheme."

"Advancement? You mean ...?"

"Bringing forward the age of puberty. The march of the menarche. Your 
Second Form Sexual Chemistry Group will be working on the socio-
chemical aspects, of course."

"Oh, of course."

"In the meantime, while we are still developing puberty advancement, we 
will operate an interim preparatory schooling scheme. Girls of seven to 
nine will take classes, looked after by dedicated staff on a surrogate family 
basis ..."

"Sorry?"

"We will employ young women to act as girls' mothers. Hand-picked, 
wondrously buxom young women. Each woman will have responsibility for 
three or four girls, feeding them and giving them motherly support. They 
will all live in a little village in the woods. As soon as the young girls are 
old enough, they will start school normally, and begin raising children like 
our normal girls." 

Moggie turned and looked at me. Her eyes were afire with her vision of a 
golden future. "Eventually, with puberty advancement in place, we will be 
able to dispense with the prep school and girls will be able to join us at 
seven and start having babies straight away. You will see the advantage of 
this, of course ..."

"Oh, of course."

"What is it then?"

"Uh ...!"

"Pay attention, Chauntaille. A student having a baby at say, eight, will still 
only be in the Fifth Form when her girl is starting in the new First Year. 
Her mother will be able to offer her daughter support while she is getting 
pregnant for the first time, always a difficult time for a child."

"What about boys? Or are all the children going to be girls?" I asked the 
question with a touch of sarcasm.

"Of course not, Chauntaille. The boys will take their place as service 
personnel, relieving the load on the boys of Lord Ted's and other schools."

"But, Miss Thunderbolt, what's it all going to cost? All these new staff, and 
the village in the woods?"

"It's self-financing," said Moggie triumphantly. "It will be paid for by the 
temporary export of pregnant girls to Cantelopia. Our present Maternity 
Unit will be converted to a day nursery. The surveyors are already 
marking out the site of the new village. Building can start within weeks. 
Toots has put forward a pilot scheme for exporting girls to other regions as 
well as Cantelopia. Toots herself may need to travel extensively to check 
out likely locations. These are exciting times, Chauntaille!"

No doubt about it. Our headmistress was barking mad.


**********

I had to confront Corinne with this latest information. She sat silent and 
horrified.

"And Toots is going to be flying all over the world with her Nigel, checking 
out suitable Middle-Eastern potentates for the school. St Catherine's High 
School for Growing Girls will be engaged solely in providing batches of 
heavily pregnant girls for use in harems. Meanwhile, our very own 
students will be working round the clock to manufacture a drug which will 
cause girls to start developing secondary sexual characteristics, and 
menstruating two, three or four years earlier than normal. Why? So we can 
provide more and more pregnant young women who can be exported for 
money, to build more houses for dedicated nannies to look after more and 
more bastard children and to aid the vile research into more and yet more 
dehumanising chemical preparations."

"Moggie said all this?"

"Not in so many words. But the surveyors are out in the woods already. I 
saw them with their troglodyte things, measuring where the first new 
houses are going to go. They'll be filled with nannies and our poor little 
girls' babies. It's obscene, Cee!"

"I can't help feeling we've let our girls down, Shannie. It's our fault they're 
all sleeping with boys, getting pregnant. The dorms are full of boys every 
night and we don't lift a finger to stop it. Anastasia sleeps next door to us 
with enough boys to keep us satisfied for a month ..."

"Speak for yourself," I muttered.

"I am." An unusually loud moan came from next door and Anastasia 
announced her forty-third orgasm of the morning. "Forty-three? Hear 
that? Forty-three times she's got off today already, and it's only ... what 
time is it?"

"Half past." 

Corinne shuddered. "Exactly. Look at that bus load of girls we sent off the 
other day. If they hadn't already been seven months pregnant, they would 
have been in trouble by now, the way they were behaving at the 
motorway shop and the airport. They were seducing men in broad 
daylight, out in the open."

"I think somebody may have given them a bit of a send-off with 
something from the Sexual Chemistry Store-room. I've never known even 
St Cat's girls to be as horny as that before. Whoever did it must have 
sprayed your boys as well."

Corinne blushed. We had never discussed our ride home on the bus with 
the six boys on the back seat. There had been some most un-Cee-like 
behaviour. It even surprised me, and I know as well as most what she can 
get up to when she really puts her back into it. The girl is good. If that's 
the right word.

I blushed as well, just thinking about it.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked softly.

"You know as well as I do. We're as bad as the girls are. We were insatiable 
on that bus."

"Speak for yourself," muttered Corinne.

"I am. We all need moral guidance before it's too late."

"What are you thinking? A priest? There's never been religion at St Cat's, 
has there?"

"Not really. I don't know. I don't think a priest is the answer. You know 
what you read in the papers. Depending what sort of priest you get, he'd 
either be fucking all the little girls or your boys would be creeping around 
trying to keep their backs to the walls."

"A woman priest, then?"

"It wouldn't be too popular with some of the school governors, I imagine. 
They're a bit hidebound and reactionary." Corinne was staring at me, wide-
eyed, for some reason. "No, if we needed to give the girls religion, we could 
have a church parade and march them over to Lord Ted's every Sunday 
morning. They could join with the boys in the Great Chapel."

"I can imagine they would," said Corinne. "But can you see our girls in a 
well-behaved crocodile along the path through the verdant meadows to 
Lord Ted's. Their immaculate school uniforms bursting with nubile flesh. I 
can see them now. I can almost smell them. Half of them wouldn't get 
there, and the other half wouldn't get back."

"We could send them over by bus ..."

"Not the same bus company that hired us the bus to go to the airport. 
Apparently that back seat was too heavily soiled to be cleaned. It needed a 
complete new seat, and the whole interior of the bus had to be steam-
cleaned and repainted, and they said it still drives all the dogs mad in the 
streets whenever it goes past."

I think Corinne was exaggerating a little. True, there had been a few spots 
of intimate fluids and stuff on the upholstery, but it was no worse than our 
bedroom after a long weekend.

"Anyway," I tried to get the conversation back on course. "Bringing in 
priests isn't the answer. We must fight this disease from within. I've had 
an idea."

"You want us all to become nuns? To forswear the pleasures of the flesh? A 
vow of silence, perhaps?"

"I don't think that's necessary." Corinne was being flippant about a serious 
subject. "No. What has caused a lot of this trouble at St Cat's? Chemistry. 
Sexual chemistry. The girls' hormones, and ours too, have been upset by 
the chemicals in the environment. Sexual chemicals are too widely 
available here. Look, if a girl wants to go out on a date and she's worried 
about not coming on sexy enough, all she has to do is pass the word around 
and there will be fifty girls willing and able to get her what she needs. A 
quick spot of Uncontrollable Horniness, and she's away."

"So you'd want to destroy all the stocks of sexual chemicals at the school? 
It won't work, Shannie. You'd never find it all. I bet half the girls have 
their own stash of the stuff hidden away for their own use. And even if 
you had an amnesty and collected it all up for disposal, where would you 
get rid of it?"

"We could bury it at the local disposal site. Or dump it at sea."

"We'd have every environmental pressure group down here overnight, 
camping outside the gates and hanging their used sanitary protection on 
the fence."

"Cee, please, not while I'm eating ...!"

"Well, take your face out of my crotch for a minute and listen, darling. 
Sexual chemistry exists. Dozens of girls know the secret of how it's made. 
You can't uninvent it. It's with us for ever, one of the unpleasant facts of 
life in the late Twentieth Century."

"That's not what I'm saying." I came up for air and took a gulp of Lucozade 
Sport for energy. "Chemistry brought this on. Chemistry can help solve the 
problem."

"Shannie ...!"

"Just in the same way that we have FatLite and Shrink ..."

"Shan, no!"

"... and we have the antidote for the old Boob Juice ..."

"Shannie ...! Don't even think about it."

"Smegs did a lot of work on an antidote for Uncontrollable Horniness. It 
worked all right. In fact, it worked a bit too well. My mum and dad really 
hated each other for a few days. But it just needs a bit more development 
work, and we'll have our very own Controllable Unhorniness."

Corinne buried her face in her hands. "You cannot be serious, Shan."

"Why not? We know far more about sexual chemistry now than we used 
to. We could produce Controllable Unhorniness as a spray, a cream, a mist; 
we could make it stronger or weaker, fast or slow acting. The possibilites 
are endless. What do you think, Amy?"

Sexy Amy had been uncharacteristically quiet. Of course, she had her 
hands full. I shuddered as she emerged from my loins.

"Sorry," she said. "I wasn't really listening. And my ears are full of your 
love-juice." She wrapped a hankie round her finger and wiggled it in her 
ear. "That's better," she said. "What was the question again?"

She really is a disgusting girl. I often wonder why we have her in the bed 
at all. "I need a piss," she said with sudden urgency, and clambered over 
me.

"Ouch!" came a sharp cry from beneath the covers. No wonder it had been 
so crowded last night. A pretty boy's face blinked at the light. I thought I 
recognised him. "Hi, Miss Gruntworthy," he said. He obviously knew me 
from somewhere.

"Is he one of yours, Cee?"

"Never saw him before in my life," said Corinne, but she was blushing 
again. "I thought he was with you."

"I came with Amy," the pretty boy explained. "I was giving her one when 
you called for her last night."

"Wait a minute." I cast my mind back over the events of last night. I 
suppose we had called for Amy: these things did happen. "You were giving 
Amy one last night? Where are you from? Where's your armband?"

"I don't wear one. I'm a temp."

"Ah, I see." That explained everything. "I trust you finished what you were 
doing with Amy?"

"Yes, thanks, Miss Gruntworthy. Three times."

"Good. At least, someone's happy. How do you know me?"

"Amy introduced me to you last night, in bed."

"She did?" I could feel a terrible revelation coming.

"Twice, Miss Gruntworthy. Thanks! You're bigger than the other girls, Miss. 
It makes it easier at first, especially in the dark, but then it sort of clamps 
down tight and grips you as snugly as one of the Junior girls. In fact, you're 
a lot tighter than some of the Juni ..."

I jumped up. "Smegs will still have the formula. I'm going to see what she 
says. Smegs always knows what to do."


**********

"But it's Saturday, Miss!"

"I know, Suzanne. That is patently obvious from your state of dress, or 
undress."

"We're allowed, Miss," Suzanne whined. "There's no uniform at weekends."

"Very young girls with excessively large breasts should not walk around 
dressed the way you are, Suzanne. It is not just for reasons of decorum, it 
is for good practical reasons. Your breasts will stretch out of shape 
dangling down like that. Look at mine."

"I am, Miss. I always do. That's why I'm having a good dangle. I reckoned 
if the boys don't want to shag me when my tits are full and plump and 
upstanding, they might prefer me when I dangle down around my..."

"Suzanne, please." She stopped and listened, hoisting first one breast, then 
the other, tucking them back into her tank top. They stayed put for a 
while. "Where's Pansy?"

"She's just putting Young Tanya down after her feed. And getting rid of 
some of her surplus milk. She'll be ten minutes, she said. Is Miss 
Mountains coming? You said she was."

"She's just finishing. She won't be long."

"What did you want, anyway, Miss? Only I've got a date in twenty minutes. 
One of the boys from Lord Ted's wants me to teach him crocheting."

"It's about Uncontrollable Horniness. You know about Uncontrollable 
Horniness?"

"I've heard about it," said Suzanne coldly.

"It's getting out of hand. We need to do something about the way it's 
affecting the girls. I need you and Pansy to make up something called 
Controllable Unhorniness."

"Sounds great," said Suzanne without much enthusiasm.

Smegs came into the lab. She looked good enough to eat. Her jeans were 
beautifully fitted and tight. Especially round the front. I had to look away. 
She waved a sheet of paper. "I found the formula for the antidote. Trouble 
is, there are two formulae, and I can't remember which is which. It would 
be best to suck it and see."

I glanced at Smegs's crotch again. "Later, perhaps."

"Suit yourself," she said huffily, pulling up her jeans again with an air of 
finality. Now you see it, now you don't. Actually, you could still see it. They 
were very figure-hugging, those jeans.

Suzanne picked up the formula, which had fluttered to the floor when 
Smegs had torn her jeans off.

"I'd better make a start mixing this lot, or I'll never get away. Are you two 
going to hang around getting in the way, or what?"

"We'll leave," I told her with all the dignity I could muster. "There's not 
much room in here, especially with Pansy here as well."

Pansy had come in, accompanied by a small group of boys in armbands. 
She looked rather like a shambolic version of Corinne with her breast 
carriers. A little smaller, of course. One of the boys handed her a T-shirt, 
and the other five helped her tuck herself into it.

"Sorry, Miss!" She shooed the boys away as soon as she was decent. "See ya 
later, right!" she told them. "I heard you needed me for an experiment, 
Miss, so I had to bring the boys along. It was a bit sudden, though. Three of 
them didn't get fed. Never mind. Shona will see them all right."

Pansy glanced at the formula and began reaching for various chemicals.

"Leave it to us, Miss," Suzanne said confidently. "We'll give you a shout 
when it's ready. And we'll mix both formulae, the way Miss Mountains 
said."

"Good girl," I said. I took Smegs by the arm and began to drag her out of 
the lab. I was beginning to need her in the worst possible way. 

Seeing all these wretchedly horny girls about the place was even beginning 
to affect me now!





Chapter 6:- Chauntaille Loses Control


"There you are, Miss," Pansy proudly showed me the two bottles before 
placing them on the dressing table. "We even labelled them, so there won't 
be any mistakes this time. And we used genuine girl milk, too. No 
substitutes." She blushed a little. "It was mine."

"Oh, Pansy, how kind. Your very own milk. Young Tanya won't go short, 
will she?"

"No, Miss. I've got stacks of milk. In fact, if you ever feel like a drink 
yourself, just give me a call." She hung her head as if she'd said too much.

I took her in my arms and gave her a big cuddle. Of course, with her 
stonking great tits and my shamefully fat belly, I couldn't get my arms 
very far round her, but it's the thought that counts, I always think.

"You're very fat, Miss," Pansy pointed out helpfully. "You're not pregnant, 
are you?"

"I don't think so."

"Aren't you sure?"

I thought about it. No, I wasn't absolutely sure. I can never be absolutely 
sure. Pansy looked at me critically as I blushed and shook my head.

"When was your last period, Miss? You know, bleeding and everything?"

"Ages ago."

"Oh, Miss! Think about it. Was it before you spent that whole week 
shagging Mr Jeremy?"

"I honestly can't remember. It might be."

"I suppose you did take precautions ...?"

I shook my head, feeling wretched.

"Oh, Miss. What are we going to do with you? Have you been sick in the 
mornings?"

"No more than usual," I had to admit.

"Oh, shit, Miss. You do want babies, don't you?"

"I don't know, Pan! It might be nice to have a tiny baby to cuddle and put 
little dresses on like yours. But I'm frightened about the nasty painful bit."

"It's all right, Miss. I survived, and you're miles bigger than me. You could 
have a huge baby without noticing a thing!"

"But did it hurt, Pan?"

"Oooh, yes. It hurt something chronic. But afterwards, when they give you 
your little baby, and you're feeding it and everything. Wow! Feeding Young 
Tan makes me go!"

"Go?"

"Or is it come? Like down in my front bottom, where boys like to put their 
thing all the time."

"All the time?" I asked faintly.

"All the time what? You mean does it feel like it all the time, or the boys 
put their things there all the time?"

"Either. Both."

"No, it makes me come, but only while I'm milking. And yes, they do like to 
put their things in there all the time, but I don't let them, not like 
Anastasia, Miss."

"Oh, good."

"No, I make them take it out while I'm feeding Young Tan. It doesn't seem 
right, somehow. Will you be a slave, Miss?"

"WHAT?"

"When you're seven months gone, will you go to Cantelopia with the other 
slave girls? I don't want to go away when I have my next one. It's going to 
be a boy, Miss," she confided, her eyes shining.

"Is it? How lovely. No, wait a minute!"

"What's the matter, Miss?" Pansy took my hand and squeezed it. "If I get 
pregnant nice and quickly this time, you'll still be there with your baby 
when I arrive. I'll have to leave Young Tan behind. She'll be all right, won't 
she?"

"Yes, I suppose so." Suddenly, I clung to Pansy. "Pan, I'm scared. I don't 
want to be pregnant, and have a baby. It will hurt. And I don't want to be 
a slave. They won't make me a slave, will they, Pan? I'm a teacher. Doesn't 
that count for anything? Please don't let them take me away, Pan!"

I buried my face in her big comforting bosom and her arms drew me close 
to her.

"There, Miss, don't cry, we all love you, Miss. There, there. Come here and 
sit on the bed." 

I could smell the milk before I felt the wet patch on my cheek, and I 
started nuzzling Pansy's breast, seeking the turgid nipple with my open 
mouth. She giggled. "Wait a minute, Miss. Let me get it out first! There you 
go. There, suck on little Pansy's fucking great big tits, Miss. Oooh, yesssss!"

"Oooh, Pansy! Yes. Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-wow!"

"Oh, Miss! Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo, fifty-three!"

"Oh PAN-ZEE!"

"Shan! What are you doing this time?"

Corinne was looming inside the doorway with a couple of her boys, staring 
open-mouthed as I fed from Pansy.

The girl explained.

"Miss Gruntworthy is scared of having a baby and being a sex slave, so I'm 
giving her a feed to make her better, Miss Meadowlark. She won't have to 
go to Cantelopia if she doesn't want to, will she, Miss? I mean, I'll be there 
to look after her, but not until Miss Gruntworthy has had her baby, unless 
I can get pregnant again this afternoon, although next week might be 
better. Still, I'll have a go, if you can spare a boy or two, Miss ...!"

I glanced up without removing the sweetly-spurting breast from my 
mouth. The boys seemed willing to oblige Pansy now or next week, or at 
hourly intervals in between. One of them, I noticed, was curiously well-
hung. It seemed not to have escaped Pansy's attention, too.

"Pansy. Please put away your breasts and button yourself up. Then leave 
Miss Gruntworthy and myself alone for a moment. I would like a word 
with her in private."

Pansy tutted crossly. "I hope it's important, Miss, 'cos Miss is in the middle 
of her feed." She mopped up the spilled milk with her hankie and tucked 
herself away out of sight. "Come on, you two," she held out her hands to 
the boys. "You heard what Miss Meadowlark said. We'll be right outside, 
Miss."

The door closed behind them, and Pansy's giggle sounded clearly as one of 
the boys made some lewd comment. Some girls have all the luck.

"Now then, Chauntaille. You had better have a good excuse this time, or St 
Cat's will be looking for a new Support and Mobility Mistress." 


**********

"You don't have to have the baby if you don't want to, dear."

"You mean ...?"

Smegs peered into the mirror and plucked another eyebrow, then studied 
herself with a critical glare. Not for the first time, I realised how great she 
looked. A bit overwhelming, but evidence that a girl could still look 
staggeringly beautiful, even with only a sixty-inch bust. She turned and 
looked at me.

"If having a baby would be ill-advised, you don't have to have it. You're 
obviously not suited for motherhood, Shan. Not like Pansy and the others. 
You're far too immature. All you ever think about is your own pleasure. I 
mean, look at you now."

I looked at me, and tried to crawl out from underneath Smegs's loins. She 
was surprisingly heavy on my face.

"May I borrow your eyebrow tweezers a minute?" Smegs handed them to 
me. "Hold still. There!"

"Thanks, Shan," said Smegs, as I held up the offending hair. "Actually, it did 
hurt a little. My labia are rather sensitive now they are four inches long. 
Try to hold the flesh while plucking my pubic hairs in future."

I couldn't even do that right. What a failure. Getting pregnant, falling out 
with my bestest friend and lover when she found me having a comforting 
little drink from a Second Former in the bedroom. I was useless, useless.

Tears trickled down my cheeks, mingling with Smegs's juices on her bed. 
The room smelled like a whorehouse, as usual.

"That's why I think you are the ideal guinea-pig for Controllable 
Unhorniness!" Smegs picked up one of the two big bottles. She shook it and 
read the label, where Pansy's neat writing explained that this was the 
bottle with more speeder-upper, more Love essence and double the 
amount of Indifference. The other one had less Love essence, less speeder-
upper, and no Indifference at all.

"I know about Love essence and speeder-upper," I told Smegs, "they're the 
same as in the other mixtures. But what's Indifference?"

"It's the magic ingredient of Controllable Unhorniness. I found my notes 
and it all came flooding back to me. Indifference acts with the Love 
essence, and turns it off and on. Without any Indifference, the Love 
essence works straight away and makes you love everybody. It acts rather 
like Love, or Fuck, depending on the amount of speeder-upper. But it 
wears off in about twenty-four hours and leaves you not caring whether 
you have it or not."

"That sounds horrible, Smegs."

"Some women are like that all the time."

"They're not!" I was aghast.

"They are. The other mixture is an improvement. It makes you instantly 
horny, within about twenty seconds. You apply it and stand well clear. But 
then the Indifference kicks in. You want to make love, but then again, you 
don't. You want kindness and attention, but when your lover gives it to 
you, you snap his head off and won't let him even touch you. Your breasts 
feel full and sensitive and you are irritable the whole time."

"That's even worse!"

"Some women are like that every month."

"Smegs, don't wind me up."

"They are, Shan. Anyway, when was your last period?"

"Why does everybody keep asking me that? I don't know. I can't 
remember."

"You really are clueless, Shan. Never mind. All you need to do is to apply 
this first bottle every day for twenty-one days. Then apply the other one 
for seven. Together, they will make you behave just like an ordinary 
woman. And you should have a period at the end of the twenty-eight days. 
If you don't you're probably preggers anyway."

"Oh, Smegs, don't even say it. They'll send me to Cantelopia!"

"Probably. But it's not bad out there, apparently. The Pasha's a decent 
enough bloke, Toots was saying. You could quite enjoy it."


**********

I lay on the bed and cried my eyes out. It's supposed to make you feel 
better. It had all started when I tried to launch my crusade to save St Cat's 
from moral decline. To halt the obscene trade in human flesh. Now, it 
seemed, I was pregnant and bound for Cantelopia myself. And nobody 
seemed at all concerned about it. They just accepted it as a fait accompli. 
Oh, yeah, so Shan's preggers. Fat cow.

Even Corinne wasn't having anything to do with me. Once too often, she 
had said. It wasn't my fault that whenever she burst into the bedroom 
without knocking, I was in the arms of some girl or other. There was 
always a perfectly logical explanation, but she never listened.

At least, she hadn't moved out of our room, yet. There was still hope that 
she would be back later to apologise, and we'd make it up in bed. On our 
own, perhaps, without Sexy Amy and some stray boy or other. Why was 
life so complicated these days? What had happened to the happy times 
when all we had to worry about was girls getting too big for their bras?

There was a knock on the door. An insistent knock.

"Miss? You there?"

"Come in, who ever you are." I sat up and wiped my eyes on the corner of 
the pillowcase.

"It's me, Miss." Victoria came into the room, looking at me wonderingly. 
"You all right, Miss? You've been crying."

"I know, Toria. I was unhappy. I still am. What did you want?"

"It's Miss Meadowlark, Miss. She told me to ask you to come quickly. To 
the Fourth Form classroom. She needs your help."

"Miss Meadowlark needs me?" I got off the bed and went to the dressing 
table to fix my eyes. They were puffy and red. Nothing to be done about 
that. It would serve Corinne right, anyway. Show her how unhappy she 
had made me. "What did she want, Toria? I'm ready. Lead on."

"Are you going like that, Miss? Only I thought you might like to get 
dressed first."

"Of course I'm going to get dressed! I meant that you could go ahead and 
tell Miss Meadowlark I am on my way."

"It's all right, Miss. I'll wait. We can walk over together. Don't forget your 
knickers, Miss," she warned me. "It's chilly out."

"I hadn't forgotten my knickers. Why does everybody keep treating me 
like a helpless child?"

Toria laughed, not unkindly. "Because you are, Miss. And that's why we all 
love you so much." She came and put her arms around me. Not very far 
round, but her family has difficulty getting its arms round me, it's a 
problem we are well aware of.

"We mustn't, Toria!"

"Mustn't what, Miss? I'm only giving you a hug. Miss Meadowlark isn't 
going to burst in on us and accuse you of having it off with me."

"How did you know ... oh, never mind." I put my knickers on and pulled 
them up tight. "Oh, shit!"

"Here's a clean pair, Miss," said Victoria, disengaging herself and opening 
my top drawer. "Let's throw those nasty wet ones in the basket, shall we?" 
She did, and I dressed quickly, even remembering my bra and shirt. 
Victoria looked me up and down. "You look great, Miss! C'mon!" 


**********

The classroom was in turmoil. I suppose Corinne was doing her best to 
maintain control, but it was a losing battle. A group of girls had gathered in 
the centre of the classroom, and there was evidence of Uncontrollable 
Horniness about the place.

This was supposed to be a Support and Mobility class, I reflected. The girls 
were learning to use public transport while carrying a cranky baby and 
suffering from unusually large breasts. Vital training for life's great 
adventure.

The baby was certainly cranky. It was a real live one, borrowed from post-
Maternity. One or two of the less well-endowed girls had been fitted with 
massively inflated latex breasts under their shirts and were attempting to 
walk without colliding with each other. But these were all sideshows to the 
main event taking place in the middle of the floor.

"Oh, Shannie, darling, thank God you could come!" Corinne didn't exactly 
say that, and she didn't exactly rush across the room and hurl herself into 
my wide spread arms, but she held out her arms to me, which was the 
next best thing. "We were going to do the Public Breast-Feeding Without 
Shame Segment, when it happened. It's Sexy Amy. Look at her!"

Without a word the girls, who had obviously been listening, parted like the 
Red Sea, and stood panting and moaning gently so I could see between 
them to Sex Amy's desk. Feeling a little like the Children of Israel, or one 
of them, I made my way to Amy's side.

"Christ!" I said, which messed up the biblical analogy, big-time. "What 
happened to you, girl?"

Amy moaned softly in her throat and the other girls joined her. It was a 
spooky sound, their voices husky and uncannily like Amy's.

She pulled the torn edges of her blouse together, but it made little 
difference. She was never going to cover those things, not in a month of 
Sundays. I reached out to twist her readout card so I could see it.

"That's buggered, Miss! It blew up when my bra exploded."

The other girls nodded in confirmation.

"It did, Miss. It actually exploded. It went bang!"

"Yes, Miss. We though it was her tits exploding. You hear about these 
things happening all the time."

"You do?" I backed away a few paces, and the other girls stepped back, too. 
A sharp smell of nervous sweat suddenly became evident.

"I'm not going to explode, Miss!" Amy reassured us. "I'm not getting any 
bigger. It was all last night, Miss, I kept growing and growing. I had to get 
up and put my bra on at three in the morning, just to hold them in. But it 
burst, twenty minutes ago. And all the pressure stopped, straight away, 
and the tingling, and the tightness all went away. I've stopped growing 
now."

"Can you stand up, Amy?" If she couldn't, I thought, at least it ought to be 
well worth watching.

She shook her head. "Leave it out, Miss! Stand up? Maybe with some of 
Miss Meadowlark's boys ...?"

The thought, as it were, was father to the deed. All four of Corinne's duty 
boys were instantly at Sexy Amy's side, ready to lift her bloated 
superstructure. This was what they had trained for: their moment had 
arrived.

They had forgotten one thing. Boys could only get so close to Sexy Amy. 
They entered her sphere of influence, and strangled cries came from their 
lips, mingling with gasps from the encircling girls. Almost as one, the four 
boys' members sprang to vibrating, throbbing attention, burst out into 
broad daylight, then began spewing fourfold pulses of steaming jism in 
Amy's general direction.

"Thanks, boys," she sighed, and began rubbing the rapidly cooling balm 
into her exposed flesh. There was quite a lot of Amy's flesh exposed. 
"Maybe I'll just lie here for a while, Miss!"

Corinne spoke up. "No, you must get up now. Boys! Team! Lift Amy up. 
Quickly, before you all start getting hard again."

The boys were literally a spent force, but they recognised the sense of 
what Corinne was telling them to do. Two of them carefully took hold of 
each of Amy's now mammoth breasts, lifting them carefully by the 
tattered remains of the ScatBra. Their leader gave the order.

"Ready? Lift!"

And up she came. She stood there, swaying slightly, while several of her 
dearest friends pressed close to her side to offer support, if not mobility.

"Bloody Hell, Amy. You look ridiculous!" Victoria stood by my side, looking 
at her friend. "Will she be the new Head Girl of St Cat's, Miss?"

"I don't know, until we measure her, Toria. That's the least of our concerns 
right now. Take the rest of the class and go and do some private study in 
the library. Leave Amy here with Miss Meadowlark and me."

The class complained, but dispersed like a crowd after an accident in the 
street. Victoria ushered them out and closed the door behind her.

"Bring her up to the desk, lads, and let's get a proper look at her."

The boys pushed and bullied Amy up to the front of the class. It wasn't 
easy. With nothing really to grab hold of, each pair of boys was struggling 
to support the mighty flopping mountains. Corinne and I stared at her. 
Sexy Amy was no longer the girl she had been. Her Mum would probably 
kill her.

"What have you been doing, Amy?" Corinne shook her head in disbelief. 
"You're gargantuan!"

Amy blushed prettily.

"I was in Miss Mountains's room last night, Miss, just making love and 
stuff, and she had these two big bottles on her dressing table. I thought 
they were bottled water, and I was thirsty, I always get thirsty with Miss 
Mountains. Her pussy tastes like anchovies."

I nodded in agreement. So did Cee, a little surprisingly, and three of the 
boys. The fourth boy looked blank. There was still hope for the world. Or 
perhaps he'd never tasted anchovies.

"So I had a sip of one. It tasted quite nice, so I drank a bit more. Sweet, it 
was, and fizzy. Then because one bottle had more in than the other, I 
drank a bit of the other one to make them the same. And within, oh, ten 
minutes, I was all tight and tingly. Like I said, I put my bra on, but it 
didn't work, Miss. But it's stopped now. It's worn off."

"She drank some of the Controllable Unhorniness mixture, Cee," I 
explained. "You are supposed to apply it externally. Just think, my parents 
used some of that stuff in the shower. If they'd accidentally swallowed it, 
Mother might be as big as Amy is now. I hate to think what would have 
happened to Daddy."

"Shall we try it, Miss?" Amy said brightly, grabbing one of the boys who 
were gently supporting her and thrusting him forward. One of the boys 
could drink the stuff. It might make his willie grow. If it does the same to 
his willie as it has done to my tits, Jeezus!"

I must say, Amy seemed to have adapted to her preposterous new size 
very well.

"Will I be Head Girl, now, Miss?" She felt with her hands for where her 
waist ought to be, no doubt imagining the scarlet sash of office tied round 
her middle.

I looked at Corinne, and she looked at me. Corinne took charge.

"We'll have to measure you first, Amy. Then you'll have to see Miss 
Thunderbolt. And your readout is broken, you need a new bra, and a 
blouse. We'd better take a walk down to Clit's. Are you free, Shan?"

"I suppose so. I was just having a good cry when Toria came."

"I thought so. Your eyes are still all red. Let's all go down to Clit's. She 
always makes you feel better. Toria, find young Anastasia and get her to 
bring the rest of my Team A down here. And tell Team B to have their 
dinner early, then they're to come to standby on immediate readiness. 
Team C's rest and rehabilitation is cancelled as of this minute." A steely 
glint came into Corinne's gaze. My spleen began to perform slow 
cartwheels and I flooded my clean panties.

Corinne seemed to know. She grinned at me mischievously and I loved her 
to distraction.

"Now you see why we trained all those boys to carry breasts. Amy is going 
to need four boys now, same as me."





Part III





Chapter 7:- Amy's Transformation


We must have been a strangely disturbing sight, walking across the 
quadrangle of St Cat's.

There were just the three of us, Corinne, Sexy Amy and me. Wronggg! 
There were six others present. Corinne had four of her boys carrying her 
breasts as usual. Amy had two other boys to carry hers. Not that hers were 
only half the size of Corinne's, they were a great deal bigger than that, but 
two boys were all that Victoria had been able to find. So using her 
initiative, she had sent them along and gone in search of a couple more.

Amy's two boys were having a rare struggle carrying her sudden 
endowment. We had removed Amy's shredded blouse and the tattered 
remains of her ScatBra. The boys lifted her breasts using a roller towel 
rescued from the toilets, hoisting them up to a more or less horizontal 
position in front of her chest. They were far too big to lift in this way, and 
the things seemed to have a will of their own.

It was made no easier by the fact that the boys were inside Amy's 
personal space, right inside it, touching her. Normally, for some reason we 
had not yet been able to determine, any boy getting within a few feet of 
Amy was overcome by her presence. The result was instant ejaculation.

Now, after spending their load of semen within seconds of seeing Amy, her 
two boys, ten minutes later, were giving every indication of being ready to 
do it all again.

"All right. Rest here," called Corinne, and we came to a halt beside the 
fountain which had been turned off months before to save the planet. "Put 
Amy down for a minute and have a wank!"

I never thought I would hear such words from Corinne's sweet mouth. 
Even her own team of breast carriers looked up at her in amazement. 
Amy's two had no time for such thoughts. They lowered Amy's breasts to 
the ground and she sat on the low wall round the fountain, watching the 
boys with undisguised interest. The two of them glanced at her once, their 
faces contorted with lust, then they whipped out their willies and aimed 
them out over the green stagnant slime. Not a moment too soon.

A spray of creamy droplets landed on the surface, splat, splat, splat. It 
floated. Amy pointed to it and nudged me.

I nodded. "Yes, it does float," I said. 

"They always said it did, but I never believed them!" Amy shook her head 
reverently. "I thought it was an old wives' tale."

"Are you boys finished?" Corinne asked, not unkindly.

"Yes, Miss."

"Good. Pick Amy up again. Gently now."

And we resumed our journey.


**********

We only just made it as far as the bra factory. 

"I don't feel very well, Miss!"

A boggle-eyed Flaps had opened the door of the bra-fitting facility, 
standing back and allowing us all to file in. The boys had no sooner 
lowered their various burdens to the floor than Sexy Amy held her head in 
both hands and complained of feeling faint.

"What's the matter, darling?" I put an arm round her shoulders, managing 
not to have an orgasm as I invaded her personal space. One of her boys 
was not so lucky, or not so unlucky, depending on one's point of view. 
Flaps tutted impatiently and wiped the mess off the workbench.

"I feel sort of woozy. Light-headed, Miss."

"It must be these tits of yours affecting the flow of blood to your brain," 
said Corinne. "It happens until you get used to them. Sit down, Amy. Put 
your head between your knees."

It took a while, but eventually we dragged her breasts apart sufficiently 
for her to see her knees and lower her head between them.

"What's up with her?" Clit came into the room. "Her alarm went off half an 
hour ago."

"Her what?"

"The computer alarm on her readout. It started beeping, and when I 
checked the reading, it had shot up off the scale. Then it dropped to zero. 
Where's her bra?" Clit said accusingly.

"It exploded. It's not poor Amy's fault if your bras aren't strong enough. 
She grew last night."

"I can see that. What have your girls been doing to her?"

"Nothing!"

"Oh yeah? It looks like it. One of these days, your Second Form Sexual 
Chemistry Group is going to land itself in deep shit. Amy's Mum will 
probably kill her, anyway."

Amy emerged from between her knees and sat up straight. "Wow! That's 
better. Sorry, Miss. I must have fainted. Hey, where are my clothes?"

"Your clothes?" I felt a sudden chill grip my vital organs. "That's why 
you're here. To get new clothes. Yours are all too small for you now."

"Too small? Did they shrink in the wash? Did I get caught in the rain? I 
can't go out like this!" She got up, gathering her breasts up in both arms as 
if she'd been doing it all her life, and made for the door.

"Amy, come back. You've got to be measured."

The girl turned. "I've got to find my clothes. I can't walk around naked."

Corinne took one arm and I took the other, and we led her back to the 
bench, where Clit was looking at us strangely.

"You really do have the most gorgeous tits, Amy," Clit glanced at us 
significantly and congratulated her. "How long have they been as big as 
this?"

Amy blushed prettily and bit her lip. "Since I was ten! Isn't it terrible, a 
ten year old with boobs this size? I've got a condition that made them 
suddenly grow. In three months, they were as big as this. It was in the 
Sunday papers."

"Four years ago?" Clit demanded.

"Near enough. Before I came to St Cat's. Although you have such super bras 
here. Still, you ought to make them so they don't shrink, though, Miss Clit. 
And the blouses, too."

I shook my head at Corinne, who was looking from Amy to Clit with almost 
a panic-stricken expression.

"We've had something like this before, Cee," I reminded her.

"The Ambrosia! I thought that was all over," she said.

"So did I." 

Amy was looking with alarm at the six boys, who had backed away out of 
range and stood against the wall in a row. "Oooooh, Miss, look! Boys! They 
mustn't see me." She stood with her toes and knees turned inwards and 
tried to cover her immense breasts with her tiny hands. Silly, really.

Corinne shrugged. "Boys, you'd better wait outside."

They started to leave, unwillingly. "But who's going to carry Amy's ti ...

"Just leave for now. We'll worry about that later." The boys left, looking 
wonderingly at Amy.

She was bright red with embarrassment. "I'll never be able to look at any 
of them again," she groaned. "To think that boys have seen me without my 
... and my ...! I feel unclean! Soiled!" She suddenly looked puzzled. "What 
are boys doing at St Cat's anyway? It's a girls' school."

"They carry ..." I started to explain, then thought better of it. "We'd better 
get her fitted out, Clit. Can we fit her from the standard sizes?"

"Of course you can," Amy interrupted. "I'm an E/SBSMXXLCW12+. I have 
been for years, Miss Clit. Look on your computer."

Clit looked startled, but tapped a few characters into the computer. She 
looked up from the screen white-faced. "She's right, look!"

She was. The screen showed a long list of girls' names, with their bra sizes 
alongside. Amy's was as she had told us.

"Bloody hell," Corinne gasped. Such language was unlike her, especially in 
front of the girls.

"Oh, MISS!" Amy was certainly deeply shocked.

"What are we going to do, Shannie? Shannie!"

"Sorry. I was looking at these bra sizes. Are they in order of size, Clit?"

"No, age." She banged a few keys. "They are now. I've sorted them by size. 
Biggest at the top."

Corinne's name headed the list, reasonably enough, then Cassandra, then 
Amy, with Shona, Victoria, Anastasia and a few others I recognised. My 
name wasn't even on the screen until I hit the Page Dn key and scrolled 
downwards. Shameful, shameful. I blushed and felt the crotch of my 
panties cold and damp against my inner thighs.

"Did you just come again, Miz Gruntwurvy?"

"Yes," I admitted.

Clit grinned at me. Corinne looked disgustedly at the ceiling. Amy was 
horrified, and covered her crimson face with her hands.

"I don't think we keep your size in stock, Amy," said Clit. "If we did happen 
to have one left, it would be on this shelf over here." She climbed a little 
step ladder and reached up to a shelf. "That's strange," she said, coming 
down the ladder again. "We've got six in stock. But nobody else uses that 
size. Nobody's that big with such heavy counterweights."

Amy looked at her with an old-fashioned expression. "You got them in 
specially for me, Miss Clit," she said patiently. "Surely you remember! It 
was the year before last, when I was in the Seconds! You made a joke 
about me not being allowed to grow any more, because you had got all this 
new stock in just for me. You people can't remember anything!"

This was ridiculous. And spooky. The year before last, the ScatBra hadn't 
even been invented!


**********

Amy wasn't as big as Corinne, to Corinne's relief, but she was dangerously 
close to Head Girl size. Fortunately, thanks in part to Cassandra's 
Amazonian almost four-foot chest measurement - her chest, that is, below 
her monster breasts - Amy's readout confirmed her as being smaller than 
Cassandra, so we didn't have the problem of trying to explain to Amy why 
she had suddenly become Head Girl overnight despite her being convinced 
she had been as big as this for years.

She didn't even need her boys to carry her. She swung her breasts around 
like a veteran, as if she'd had them for four years, as she said. And the 
super-heavy counterbalance weights of her elephantine ScatBra kept them 
supported in improbable fashion, several feet in front of her.

Flaps ran her up a gigantic blouse and she emerged into the open air 
looking absurdly voluptuous. The six boys were sitting against the wall 
outside, watching the girls passing to and fro. Lewd comments flew 
backwards and forwards, but no actual mating took place. The boys 
belonged to Miss Meadowlark: girls simply did not approach them without 
an invitation.

When Amy came out of the bra factory, the six boys found themselves 
sitting directly in the shadow of her vast bust. Without a moment's 
hesitation, they became erect, all six of them, and with a chorus of helpless 
groans, they came with absolute synchronism, spurting their steaming 
semen into the dust.

Amy was shocked and outraged.

"How dare they, Miss? Those filthy, filthy boys!"

The filthy, filthy boys put themselves away and looked at Amy in 
bewilderment. She had caused it, after all, coming out here with gigantic 
breasts and standing so close to them. Then she called them all the rude 
names under the sun. Girls, they thought. There was no understanding 
them.

I didn't understand them either, despite being one. Corinne stuck her nose 
in the air and stormed off like a ship under full sail - top-gallants, royals 
and studding-sails - her boys literally trotting in front of her, four carrying 
her breasts, the other two loping along on each side. I watched all seven of 
their receding bottoms with some regret.

Amy stuck her nose in the air and went off in the other direction, to her 
classes.

There was nothing else for it. I ducked back into the bra factory and 
allowed Clit to have her wicked way with me.


**********

Was it true? Had it all happened? Clit said she honestly couldn't remember 
whether Amy had been as big as that before, which made my brain boggle. 
I went looking for Smegs. Smegs always knew what to do.

"I don't know what we can do," she said helplessly. "Amy was in here last 
night. We were fucking, and she got up for a drink in the middle of the 
night. She said something about anchovies making her thirsty. She'd gone 
when I woke up this morning. How big did you say she was, anyway?"

"I don't know about sizes. Not as big as Cee. Her bust is smaller than 
Cassandra's."

"I should think it is, Shan. Nobody is as big as those two."

"There's not much in it. It took two boys and a roller towel to carry her 
down to Clit's place. Then a strange thing happened. She lost her memory, 
and when she came round, she said she'd been that big since she was ten. 
And despite her being so vast, Clit still had six bras her size in stock. And 
she's gone all prudish. She had the boys thrown out of the bra factory."

"She did? Amy?"

"But when she came out, she stood next to the boys, and they shot their 
load straight off, just like that, all together. So that still works; when boys 
get near Amy, they come."

"What a waste, Shan!"

"Terrible. But then Amy was all disgusted with them for being so filthy. 
Those poor boys, they didn't know what to think!"

"What did Corinne think of all this?" said Smegs.

"I don't know. She went off without speaking to me. I don't think she's 
really forgiven me for yesterday, when she found me having a drink from 
Pansy in the bedroom."

"No, I suppose that would make her a bit mad, Shan."

"It wasn't like that, honest. Pan was just trying to cheer me up, that's all."

"Yes, Shan, of course."

There was a knock on the door. 

"Come in," Smegs shouted, and Victoria came into the room.

"Oh, shit," I said, scrambling out of the bed and trying to cover my 
shameful belly and hips with a bath towel.

"That's all right, Miss!" Victoria was so considerate. "I've seen your fat 
bottom. In fact, it looks quite nice. It makes me want to give you a good 
spanking."

"Not now, Toria," said Smegs, as I immediately bent over the dressing table 
with juices trickling down my thighs in anticipation. "What did you want?"

"It's Amy, Miss. I think you'd better come and have a look at her."

"I've seen her, Toria," I reminded the girl. "I was there when we fitted her 
with her new bra, remember?"

"That's why you'd better come, Miss. I'm afraid that bra isn't going to fit 
her any more!"





Chapter 8:- The Return Of The Biggest Breasts in the World 


Sometimes, as we go though life, things happen to us that we don't really 
want to happen. We don't like it when they do happen. Victoria had just 
come in to Smegs's room and told us that Sexy Amy's brand new bra 
wasn't going to fit her any more. Come and see for yourselves, she had told 
us.

I didn't want to.

Amy was already almost inconceivably vast. Her bust size was smaller 
than Corinne's and Cassandra's, but there wasn't much in it. If she had got 
even bigger, there were likely to be serious consequences. If she got bigger 
than Cassandra, she would become Head Girl. If she became bigger than 
Corinne, Corinne would go ape-shit. Corinne, I was beginning to realise, was 
quite content as long as she had the biggest tits in the whole of St Cat's. If 
her position was challenged, she was capable of becoming most unpleasant 
about it.

The thought of Amy as Head Girl was distinctly worrying. We'd had enough 
problems when Victoria had been Head Girl. Her character had changed 
overnight from merely dreadful to downright appalling. Amy would be 
just as bad, probably in some ways we had never even dreamed about.

Apart from anything else, Amy now had selective amnesia. In her mind, 
she was convinced that she'd been this big since she was ten years old. 
Frighteningly, her amnesia had spread to the school computer system, 
which was also convinced that Amy had been the world's bustiest ten-
year-old four years ago, and had ordered a stock of absurdly large bras in 
her size.

"Please come and see her, Miss," Victoria pleaded. "You too, Miss 
Mountains. You always know what to do."

"Why me?" Smegs had gone pale. She pulled the bed covers over her head. 
"Go away!" she shouted in a muffled voice.

"Help me with my clothes, Toria," I told the gargantuanly-endowed Fourth 
Former. Her nearness was making me go weak at the knees. "You're sure 
you don't have time to spank me?"

"No, Miss. This is urgent."

"Please, Toria!"

"No!" She slapped my bare rump resoundingly.

It was better than nothing. "Oh, thank you, sweetheart," I said, and pulled 
my knickers up tight over my tingling bottom, while Toria gave me a hand 
with the rest of my clothes. I was dressed and ready to go in almost 
twenty minutes. She took me by the hand and edged her giant breasts out 
through the doorway. I followed her much more easily.


**********

The Fourth Form classroom was empty of girlhood. Amy was sitting there, 
her chin resting in her hands, her elbows on the desk. I stared at her.

"When did this happen, Amy?" I asked her, somehow knowing the answer 
already.

"When did what happen, Miss?"

I pointed at her chest with a wavering finger. "This! Your bust!"

She sat back in her chair and thrust out her chest at me. "Do you like them, 
Miss? I grew them last night. I was beginning to think I'd never get titties. 
Still, somebody has to be the last one in class to get them, and I've got 
mine now. What are they, do you think, Miss? A B-cup?"

"Oh, easily a B, Amy. More like an E. Where's your bra?"

"Bra, Miss? Don't be daft. I've only had these a couple of hours!"

"You'd better come with me, Amy." I turned to Victoria and muttered out 
of the side of my mouth. "Where's her new bra, that huge one?"

Victoria blushed. "I've got it in my desk. She was going to throw it away, 
she didn't know whose it was, and it didn't fit any of the other girls in the 
class. I thought I might try going without sex for a few weeks and see if I 
could fit into it myself."

"Bring it here. Then come with me and Amy down to Miss Clit's. We're 
going to have Amy measured again."


**********

The computer screen was the same as it had been earlier, except that my 
own name now crept in at the bottom of the screen. Amy was dozens of 
pages down, at 37 inches.

Clit clutched at her brow, wild-eyed. She held up the vast bra Toria had 
handed her, looking from the bra cups to Amy and back again. Without 
looking round, she tossed the bra on the work bench. It fell on Flaps's 
head, completely engulfing her in one of the cups. Flaps got up and 
blundered blindly around the room, upsetting things in her path as she 
tried to get the bra cup off her shoulders. The other cup trailed on the 
floor, dragged down by the huge mass of the counterweights. Flaps stepped 
into it, and crashed to the ground.

"Fuck!" she said. She disentangled herself from the bra and hurled it 
savagely against the wall. "Fuckin' great fuckin' thing. Fuck it!"

Amy was blushing deeply and looking at me as if wondering whether she 
had grounds for complaint.

"I hate bad language, Miss," she said. Coming from her, that was rich, I 
thought. Amy was without a shadow of a doubt the noisiest and most 
vocally explicit lover I had ever encountered. A thought occurred to me. 
Now she seemed to have lost her giant breasts and become a Grade A 
prude, had she lost her famous sex-drive as well? She still had some of her 
powers, I noticed. If I stood close to her, I got wet. If any boys had been in 
the room, they would have come spontaneously. It would be a pity, though, 
if Amy was no longer going to be available for love-making. It would be a 
terrible waste.

"Never mind, Miss," Victoria was reading my most intimate thoughts again. 
"You can always take me to bed instead.

"Thank you, Toria, darling!" It wouldn't be the same, but it would certainly 
be different.
 
Clit climbed her step ladder and rummaged about on the top shelf. With a 
bemused expression, she came down, then took a handful of bras from a 
plastic bin and handed them to Amy.

"Here you are, girl. Standard pubescent ScatBras. You know how to switch 
on the readout, don't you?"

"No, Miss Clit. I never had a bra before."

Clit opened her mouth, then closed it again. She showed Amy how to 
switch the bra on. She even had to show her which way up the bra went, 
and what the shoulder straps were for. The readout flickered, then glowed 
steadily, reading 37-23-34. In some primitive cultures, I reflected, Amy 
would be regarded as having a slightly top-heavy but almost perfect 
figure. How bizarre.

"I just looked on the top shelf," Clit whispered to me. "You remember how I 
looked up there earlier, when she was big?"

"Huge."

"Mountainous. And there were half a dozen bras in her size up there? 
They're gone now. Nothing! It's no good, Miz Gruntwurvy. I'm going to 
have to get out of this place. It's haunted."

A great wail went up. I recognised Amy's voice. I half expected her to 
reach a climax and scream a number, like "seventy-four!" She didn't. She 
clutched at me, flinging her arms around my waist. Her plump boobs felt 
hot against me.

"Miss! Where have they gone? My lovely big boobs, they've gone!"

"Amy, stop it. Let go. I'm drenched!"

Reluctantly, she pulled away, and stood sobbing. "I had lovely boobs, great 
big huge ones, and they've gone. Can you get me creamed, Miss? If the 
other girls see me like this, they'll all laugh."

She looked so bewildered, I decided to take the risk with my knickers and 
hug her again. Her little body was warm and soft. She felt so defenceless. I 
held her close until her tears stopped and her sobs subsided. Then Victoria 
took her bestest friend in her arms while Clit peeled off my saturated 
knickers and dried my legs with half a roll of industrial paper towel.

If there was one thing worse than sudden amnesia, it was amnesia that 
went away again. Now we had an Amy who had been a very big girl; 
whose breasts had suddenly ballooned to immense size, and had firmly 
believed she had always been like that. She had then diminished almost to 
nothing, a mere 32-E cup, and was sure she had been flat-chested until 
that moment, and had just grown. Now, she had forgotten that and 
remembered having huge breasts again. Quite reasonably, under the 
circumstances, she wanted to know where they had gone. I think I might 
have wondered the same thing myself.

"Toria, take her back to my room and hide her there. I'll be along shortly."

Victoria looked round for something to cover Amy. The only thing she 
could find was the gigantic discarded bra, which made Amy cry in earnest. 
Victoria threw one of the cups over Amy's head and hustled her away.

Once they had gone, Clit and I tried to make sense of what was happening. 
The computer, which held records of the girls' measurements over the past 
year or so, might tell the tale. Clit scrolled down to Amy's name, and the 
record showed her to have been 37 inches for the whole of the time since 
records began.

She clicked a button marked 'Refresh'. The screen cleared, then 
reassembled itself. This time, things were different. Amy was still shown 
as 35 inches. But earlier, there was a reading of ###, which Clit explained 
was a number too big for the system to handle. Earlier still, her bust size 
was shown as 64 inches, and it had remained stable at that right back to 
the previous year, at which point it took a leap from 46 inches.

The computer had regained its memory, at least.

"I think it's okay again now Amy's not here," Clit said. "While she's close to 
the computer, she seems to have an effect on the machine."

I knew how it felt.

"Did you see her breasts at all?" I asked Clit. "Did they look stretched, or 
anything?"

"I never saw them naked. They were very tight when they were at their 
biggest, but girls who grow suddenly do have very tight breasts until the 
skin stretches. But you saw, I just gave her some standard bras, I didn't 
strip her off. It would be interesting to see."

"Shall we get her in here again?" I asked, a little too eagerly.

"You can measure her if you like. I'm not going near her," Clit vowed. She 
meant it, I could tell.


**********

I had no choice. The girls were waiting in my bedroom when I got back. At 
least, Corinne wasn't there. I was obviously not flavour of the month with 
Corinne. 

Amy was sitting on the bed, looking bewildered. She held the mammoth 
bra in her hands, trying to imagine how she had filled those giant cups 
only a couple of hours before.

"Take your blouse and bra off, Amy," I told her, getting straight down to 
business.

"Oooh, Miss! People will see!"

"There's only you and me in here, and your bestest friend. Take them off!"

Scarlet faced, Amy revealed herself. Her breasts were perfect three-
quarter coconuts, firm and plump, crowned with nubby little nipples and 
virginal pink areolae. She covered them with her hands.

"Miss. I had such huge boobies before, and now they're gone. What can I 
tell the other girls?"

"Amy. You remember having big ones? That fitted that bra?"

"Yes, Miss."

"How long had you had them?"

"About two hours. I had to have boys carrying them. I nearly died of 
shame, Miss."

She remembered some things just fine. Other facts had become slightly 
rearranged.

"I can help you, I think. At least, until we find out what's happening. Toria, 
go to Miss Thunderbolt and ask her for the Biggest Breasts in the World. 
Tell her it's of vital importance and I'll explain later.


**********

The giant prosthesis fitted Amy quite nicely. We pumped some air into the 
great latex breasts and watched as she expertly lowered them into the 
cups of the bra. She stood up, tottering a little, then gathering confidence, 
she set off on a lap of honour round the room. The only casualties were a 
vase of flowers and a cracked mirror.

"Keep your clothes on, and the other girls will never know, darling," I told 
her. "Now, run along to your classes."

They two girls edged carefully out of the room and a few moments later, I 
saw them from the window as they crossed the quad. They stopped by the 
stagnant fountain, turned off to save the planet, and Amy pointed at 
something in the water. I could see her blushing even from this distance.


**********

The Fourth Form dorm was mercifully empty.

"I can't get used to these things, Tor!" Amy shrugged awkwardly and 
hefted the giant bra cups.

"You'll soon get used to the weight. They are very heavy." Victoria shook 
her own substantial rack from side to side to demonstrate.

"Heavy? They're too light! I'm nearly taking off and floating round the 
room." Amy demonstrated. "I'm going to fill them with water." She set off 
for the toilets, with Victoria tagging along behind.

"You can't fill them with water. They'll weigh tons. You'll never be able to 
move."

"I'll be all right. I you pull the valve off, they've got a neck like a balloon, 
so they'll fit over the water taps. I'll use warm water." They had arrived, 
and Amy was already unfastening her bra. "Don't look. Look the other way! 
You mustn't see me without my top."

Victoria gasped, but walked away a few yards, watching as Amy connected 
her left breast to the water. Her breast began to swell. Ripples spread 
across its obscene rubbery pink surface and she grunted as she supported 
the mammoth globe with both hands.

"That's enough, you'll burst!" Toria said apprehensively.

"No, it's all right. These things are ever so strong." Amy retied the string 
round the inflation nozzle of the left one of the Biggest Breasts in the 
World. She started on the right one. After five minutes, they were about 
the same size, each rather larger than twice the size of basketballs. 
"There!" Amy stood back from the wash basin in triumph, and her breasts 
plummeted down. Desperately, she tried to catch them, but they escaped 
her frantic clutches, lolloping down to rebound against her thighs. "Oh, dear 
me! Oh, my goodness," she cried with admirable restraint. The mighty 
globes, less globular but just as mighty, came to rest, bobbling gently in a 
self-satisfied way. "Golly! That's better." She lowered them into her bra 
again, and grunted as she hauled the broad straps over her shoulders. "I'll 
be able to put more water in them tomorrow. How do I look?"

"Staggering," said Victoria truthfully. "You're miles bigger than me. Let's 
see how big they are."

The readout had reached a commendable 180 inches.

"Wow! No wonder they're so heavy," said Amy wonderingly. "Tomorrow, 
I'll try and get them up to 185 inches. If I build up to it gradually, I can 
probably manage five inches a day."

"Amy! Why?"

"Why not?"

There was no answer to that. 


**********

"What is it, Amy?" She was standing in front of my desk. The rest of the 
class had drifted away to have their early evening meal. Her blouse was 
enormous and loose, although it was tight enough across her breasts. At 
least, I comforted myself, they weren't real, they were just the Biggest 
Breasts in the World, pumped up with air. They looked disturbingly heavy, 
though. She looked around her conspiratorially and edged closer to the 
desk. "No, Amy, get back ..." 

Too late. The image of Amy swam before my eyes, and the all-too-familiar 
wetness made itself felt between my thighs. Another pair of clean panties 
down the Swanee.

"Sorry, Miss! I forgot. It's the amnesia, it comes and goes. I always forget. 
But I remember something about what happens when people get to close 
to me. They ... they come." She whispered the last word and blushed 
reasonably prettily. "Did it just happen to you, Miss?"

"Yes, Amy, but don't worry about it. It's inconvenient, but it feels quite 
nice. Since it happens to me about seventy times a day, I'm quite used to it 
by now." I completed my explanation and laid my drenched panties on the 
desk, then sat down, feeling distinctly chilled.

Amy shook her head. "They're so wet, Miss. Sorry!"

"Honest, Amy, it's nothing. Just a bit of love-juice."

"Strange name, Miss. Love-juice. Why do they call it that? What's love got 
to do with it?" To my amazement, she struck an attitude, thrust out a 
sturdy thigh and burst into what I could only assume was song. She 
stopped after a verse and a chorus, and apologised. "I don't know why that 
keeps happening, either, Miss. I've burst into song half a dozen times in 
the last couple of days. Every time I hear a quote from a song, I start 
singing. It's really embarrssing."

"I can imagine it would be, dear. But what did you want?"

"It's my boobs, Miss. I've been wearing the Biggest Breasts in the World for 
four days now, and they're very nice. I'm using water in them ..."

"Water? Aren't they enormously heavy?"

"Yes. Why not?"

"I don't know, carry on."

"I've been wearing the Biggest Breasts in the World for four days now, and 
I've got them up to ..." she consulted the readout card "... nearly 200 inches. 
The other girls think I'm growing naturally. At least, since I always 
undress in the dark, they don't know the secret, but one day, somebody's 
going to see."

"I suppose so. What do you want me to do?"

"Look. I found this." She grubbed around in her bag and came out with a 
folded page torn from a newspaper. "Read this ..."

The well-thumbed article described one Boo-Boo Benetton, a French girl, 
described as a model, singer and entertainer. She had been having her 
breasts enlarged by surgeons. Now, after one hundred and forty seven 
operations, she claimed a bust measurement of seventy inches. There was 
a crumpled photograph of Ms Benetton. Her breasts swelled out from her 
chest, pointing upwards so she had to peer over them. She looked like a 
startled rabbit hiding behind two boulders.

"What about her?" I asked, mystified.

"I want to be like her. No Biggest Breasts in the World, just an operation or 
two, and I could be like her. I want implants."

"Implants! Amy, no!"

"Why not?"

"They're dreadful. Look at this woman." I pointed to Boo-Boo with a 
quavering finger. "All those operations and she looks like a freak. And 
she's nowhere near the size of a natural girl, like Suzanne. Suzanne's 
breasts are miles bigger than hers. So were yours when you grew."

"That's all right. I'll just have more stuff put in. This Boo-Boo only had 
200ml put in at a time. I could have twenty litres in each breast. I could 
tell the doctor to make me as big as the Biggest Breasts in the World. If I 
went to the surgery wearing them, then said, make me this big, he'd know 
what to do, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose so." There had to be a flaw in her argument, but I couldn't think 
what it was.

"I can get implants on the National Health, can't I, Miss? If I don't have 
them, I will be undergoing exceptional hardship. I could explain to the doc 
that the school is making me wear this great big pair of artificial breasts 
full of warm water, and making me add more water every day. They'd let 
me have implants if I told them that, wouldn't they?"

Help! Smegs would know what to do. I had to see Smegs. 

"Let me discuss it with Miss Mountains, Amy."

"All right," she said happily. "Miss Mountains always knows what to do. 
And once my breasts are real, with insanely huge implants, I'll be able to 
be Head Girl, won't I? I'll soon be as big as Cassandra. And she can have 
her blouse back. I'm really really looking forward to this!"





Chapter 9:- Breakfast At Pansy's


"We can't stop her getting implants if she wants them, Shan!"

"We can't?"

Smegs shook her head firmly. "It would repress her, the poor child. We 
mustn't deny them their basic human rights. They will take St Cat's to 
court. But apart from that, it doesn't do children any good if you say no to 
them all the time."

"We're not saying no all the time. All we're saying is that it's not right to 
let her have giant breast implants."

"You're denying her the right to be Head Girl. To wear the Scarlet Sash of 
Office."

"But if she was bigger than Cassandra, she could wear it as her right. We 
can't have all the girls in the school getting implanted, just to be bigger 
than her. They would look ridiculous!"

"What's ridiculous about insanely huge breasts, Shan? That's a terrible 
thing to say! No, you've got to let Amy grow as big as she wants to be. 
Have you got a picture of this Boo-Boo Benetton woman?"

I pulled the crumpled paper out of my panties where I had rolled it up for 
safe keeping. Smegs's eyes lit up. "Oooh, thanks, Shan, darling, how 
thoughtful of you!" She ignored the paper and grabbed at the soggy 
underwear. "It seems ages," she sighed dreamily, when she eventually 
emerged, her nose glistening with my juices.

I gave her the paper again. "That's her. Amy wants to be about fifty times 
as big as her."

"Good for Amy. Aim high. Think big." She handed me the paper and 
returned her face to my undies again. She was so obviously enjoying 
herself I hadn't the heart to interrupt.

"I'll see you later," I told her, edging out of her bedroom. I had places to go. 
Things to do.


**********

Pansy was sitting cross-legged on her bed, feeding young Tanya. She was 
disturbingly naked. Suzanne was brushing her cousin's hair, concentrating 
deeply on the task in hand.

"Of course we can cream Cassandra, Miss, if you like," Pansy said, adjusting 
the position of her infant at her breast, and bringing an indignant yowl 
from the fast-growing child. She re-inserted a nipple of improbable 
dimensions into young Tanya's mouth, and the baby's eyes goggled as she 
came to terms with the thing. Poor wee mite, I thought, although the kid 
seemed content enough. "But why?"

"Why what?" I had forgotten the question.

"Why cream Cassandra? She's inhumanly vast, after all."

"Just to make her a bit bigger. Only one creaming will be enough."

Suzanne laid down her brush. "Is it because of Sexy Amy, Miss? Are you 
worried about her getting bigger than Cassandra and becoming Head Girl?"

I must have blushed. Suzanne nodded. "I was worried about that, too," she 
grinned. "That's why I mixed up a specially large batch of new stuff. We 
call it Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast 
Double-Strength Ultra Plus, Miss." She reached into her wardrobe and 
produced a heavy tub marked 'DANGER' with a skull and crossbones. "We 
were going to cream her this weekend, Miss."

"With that? A new formula? Couldn't you just use ordinary stuff on 
Cassandra? We don't want to risk an explosion."

"This will be okay, Miss, it's specially formulated with Cassandra in mind. 
It uses her genetic fingerprinting and we've used Pansy-milk for the first 
time."

Pansy hefted Tanya to her other breast and beamed proudly. Milk was 
cascading down from her nipple in a great spray, dribbling down her inner 
thighs to form a puddle on the bed. The baby was doing her best, but it 
was a losing battle. She was drenched in it.

"I'm not short of milk, Miss," she pointed out needlessly. "In fact, I've got 
far too much for one baby. That's why it's especially good news!"

"What's good news?"

"I'm pregnant again! Isn't it great?"

"Pansy! That's dreadful! I didn't even know you had a boyfriend!"

"Boyfriend?" She wrinkled her nose in horror. "Of course not. I hate boys, 
they're so childish."

"But how did you ... who is the father of ...?"

"God knows. Some bloke. I've been having quite a lot of sex, Miss! Every 
day. Ooooh, dozens of times!" She obviously tried to work out how many, 
and failed.

Suzanne looked absolutely disgusted. "She's a filthy slut, Miss," she said 
simply. "And a whore. She makes them pay!"

"You ... sell yourself? Oh, Pansy, how could you?"

"Sell myself? No, Miss. It's only like temporary. More like hire than selling. 
I get a pound a time."

Pride shone out of her honest little well-scrubbed face.

"A pound? Is that all?"

"I'm not greedy, Miss. If I don't overcharge, they keep coming back for 
more. I'm never knowingly undersold, Miss. I made just over two hundred 
last week alone. And of course, being pregnant again, I can work four 
weeks out of four. That makes the other girls jealous! They all have to take 
a week off every month. Well, they don't really have to, but most of them 
do."

"She's disgusting, Miss. You should stop her!"

"It's got to stop, Pansy!" I can put my foot down when I need to.

"Oh, Miss! You're a rotten spoilsport!" Pansy looked close to tears. Young 
Tanya let go of her breast and looked up at me indignantly. She let out a 
loud wail.

"Now see what you've done," howled Pansy, and joined her baby in a 
tearful protest. Milk continued to jet out of her breasts. The puddle on the 
bed was getting frighteningly deep. There were ripples on it, and milk 
splashed over the edge on to the floor. An appreciative circle of cats lapped 
contentedly at it.

"Oh, all right," I said. "You can carry on having sex. You are very good at it, 
I've heard. But we need to talk about your pricing policy. See me 
tomorrow."

"Oh, thanks, Miss. You're a real star! Come here!"

It was an offer I couldn't refuse. Young Tanya didn't object, either. She 
took the left one and I took the right, and we both glugged away happily 
until the supply slowed to a trickle. At last, it was over, and Pansy rubbed 
our backs lovingly until we burped copiously and gratefully. The dorm 
smelled extremely sexy.

"I've never come so much, Miss," Pansy moaned huskily. "You really can 
suck!"

I blushed prettily. "It was only half me. Young Tanya did her share as 
well." 

Suzanne was busy about the bed with an old towel, scattering the cats, 
tutting and clucking like a mother hen. "Look at all this stuff! I'll never get 
it mopped up. You two go and have a shower straight away. I'll put this 
baby in her cot ..." She shooed us out of the dorm, our breasts swinging 
around our juice-gleaming thighs. "Don't come back until you're clean!"

Corinne seems to have this amazing sense of timing. She was standing in 
the doorway.

"Oh, Shan, not again!"

"I can explain! Cee!"

But she'd gone. Her two spare boys were looking over their shoulders in 
outrage as they retreated at speed down the corridor.

Pansy stroked my arm in sympathy.  "Never mind, Miss. Come to the 
showers, and I'll scrub your back. And we can wash each other's rude bits, 
can't we? See what I mean about boyfriends? Miss Meadowlark is just like 
a boyfriend. She wants you to herself all the time."

I followed Pansy morosely into the shower room.

"Come on, then, Miss. Do you want a golden shower?"

My God! Had I heard her correctly? "Sorry?"

"A golden one. Mr Jeremy changed some of the shower heads. These two 
gold coloured ones are best, they're so big, they give you a nice soft 
shower. The old silver ones nearly take your skin off."

"Oh, a golden one, please, Pansy. I wondered what you meant for a 
moment. It sounded quite rude. You ought to refer to these golden heads 
as brass."

"Did I, Miss? Gosh! All the other girls call them gold, Miss. They seem to 
talk about them all the time."


**********

"Yours is really huge, Miss!"

I blushed prettily. "Thank you, Pansy." 

She walked round my bottom and sprinkled an extra supply of talcum 
powder on my left buttock. "Not your bum, Miss, although that is huge. One 
of the biggest I've ever seen. But I meant your front bottom."

"My front bottom? Pansy, we've been into that before. Size doesn't matter."

"I know you've told us that in Fucking Class, Miss, but that's kids' stuff 
really, isn't it? I'm really glad mine's so vast now I've had Tanya. Most of 
the boys mention how huge it is."

"They do? It's as big as that?"

"Oooh, Miss! You said so yourself in the showers. You said, 'Oh, Pansy, 
sweetheart, your lovely slippery cunny is so fucking gigantic, I can get my 
whole hand inside!' You did, Miss, didn't you?"

"So what if I did," I muttered defensively. "I was a bit aroused, that's all."

"You meant it, though. I can tell. Anyway, it's all right to tell me things like 
that, 'cos I like you, even if you are my teacher. And the boys tell me it, 
too. But, Miss?"

"Yes, Pansy?"

"If size doesn't matter, sometimes, I can't even feel if a boy has got it in 
me, if he's not very big. I had to ask one the other night. He'd put it in, I 
was a bit extra sopping wet - 'cos he was my seventh, and I honestly didn't 
know if it was in or not, without looking, and in the position we were in, 
there was no way of seeing my ..."

"Pansy, please get on with it!"

"Sorry, Miss. I just thought you'd want to know. You did suddenly get extra 
moist when I mentioned how wet I was was, him being my seventh and 
everything. Suzanne mopped it up with the towel, Miss. Anyway, I couldn't 
feel it, and I asked him if he'd put it in yet, and he went all quiet, and next 
thing I knew, he was getting dressed. I never even felt him take it out."

"No, Pansy, I don't suppose you would have done. He'd probably shrunk."

"Boys are strange creatures, Miss. Imagine shrinking when you're in the 
middle of fucking a girl as beautiful and hugely-endowed and sexy as me, 
with a pussy big enough to get your whole head inside. Although I never 
tried. Not with my own head. It won't reach down there, not with my tits 
in the way. I can get half of one tit in there, though, I tried the other day 
during History ..."

"Pansy!" I sat up abruptly to dispel this disturbing image. As a teacher, I 
suppose I really should not have been lying on a girl's bed with my legs up 
around my ears like this. Disappointed, the Second Formers who had 
gathered to watch dispersed with little groans of dismay. Pansy wiped her 
face with the bath towel which already smelled strongly of Eau de 
Chauntaille Gruntworthy. "History?" I said, despite myself.

The other girls turned, their interest rekindled.

"Yes, Miss. With Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen. She's ever so boring. She 
was on about King Alfred burning the cakes. Do you know where he burnt 
them, Miss?"

"At Wantage, wasn't it?"

"No, Miss. It was at the top. And you can always scrape the worst of the 
burnt bits off and cover it up with icing. I never knew what all the fuss 
was about. A few burned cakes just because he was fucking this woman. I 
mean, if people came round later and she had all these burnt cakes, she 
could tell them she only burned them because she was knobbing the king 
at the time and she didn't hear the oven timer, and they'd be quite 
impressed, Miss. I know I would be. Not if it was King Charles, though. I 
think he's a nutter, Miss. Probably." 

"Pansy, please get on with it. Did Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen tell you the 
woman who burned the cakes was fucking King Alfred at the time?"

The Second Form squealed with joy at the very idea.

"Oh, Miss! Of course not. She said she was hiding him from his enemies, but 
we know what they were really doing. It's what the Royal family does 
best, fucking other people's wives. Anyway, you keep interrupting. History 
was so bor-ing! So I'd already got my panties off to keep them dry while I 
was feeding Tanya, and it was so boring that even she fell asleep, so I tried 
putting my nipple in my pussy, and it was so long and pointy with being 
sucked, it went right in, and the other girls who were watching me feeding 
helped me, and they reckon half my tit was in there before Miss Rhys ap 
Llewelyn Owen stopped us and made me take it out. It felt good, Miss. 
None of the other girls can do it. Apart from Suze, maybe, but she doesn't 
count. One or two of them can just about get a nipple down to their clit, but 
that's all. I got ten thousand lines, Miss. I had to write out 'I Must Not 
Insert My Breasts Into My Vagina During English History Lessons' ten 
thousand times, Miss. Not forgetting the capital letters. Miss Rhys ap 
Llewelyn Owen had gone all red, Miss."

"I should think so, too, Pansy. An entirely appropriate punishment. I would 
have recommended a good spanking, too."

"I wish you were our History teacher, Miss. I'd rather give you a good 
spanking any day than write out 'I Must Not Insert My Breasts Into My 
Vagina During English History Lessons' ten thousand times, Miss. Wouldn't 
you?"

I didn't know whether she had asked me or the rest of the audience, but 
judging by the noise, we all agreed on that point. "I'll speak to Miss 
Thunderbolt about it," I promised, amid general acclaim. 

Teaching is so rewarding at moments like these, I always think.


**********

Corinne wasn't in our room when I returned on quavering legs and 
slumped on the bed. At least, she hadn't moved out. Her things were still in 
the wardrobe, and one of her bras was hanging out to dry over the 
wardrobe door. She had left the readout switched on, and the numbers 
were constantly changing, flickering from a row of three zeroes to nine 
hundred and ninety nine inches. It made me think of Cassandra and 
Suzanne's plan to cream her with Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-
Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus. I couldn't help feeling 
slightly apprehensive.

If nothing else, it was likely to trigger off a bust war, with Sexy Amy 
pumping more and more water into her Biggest Breasts in the World, until 
the inevitable happened. Girls could be drowned. It would be in all the 
papers. It had to be stopped.

The first thing was to get Amy up here and tell her this whole Biggest 
Breasts in the World business was ridiculous and had to end right now. 
Then I would see Suzanne and get her to leave Cassandra's breasts alone. 
First, get Amy up here. I needed a messenger.

"Anastasia!" I shouted.

"Yes, Miss." Our next door neighbour appeared a minute or two later.

"I need you to go on an errand for me. Can you ... what on earth are you 
wearing?"

"Do you like it, Miss. It's not too daring, is it?"





Part IV





Chapter 10:- Newer, Stronger, Faster Acting Grow Cream


Anastasia stood before me in the bedroom.

"Do you like it, Miss. It's not too daring, is it?"

She gave one of her understandably cautious twirls. Miraculously, both her 
breasts stayed inside the top.

"You're not going out wearing that, are you?" I was beginning to sound like 
my mother.

"You sound like my Mum, Miss. Later. I was just trying it on. I'm seeing 
Clark and I wanted to look extra sexy. I think he's going off me."

"I see." I saw. A word of explanation is in order. It won't advance the plot 
at all, but it may help explain why I was feeling slightly disturbed while 
looking at Anastasia. Skip this bit if you have a short attention span.

She was wearing the shortest shorts I had ever seen. In fact, at that 
moment, they were the shortest shorts I still hadn't seen yet. I only saw 
them when I got up and walked round Anastasia to take in the whole 
picture. I spotted her shorts on Lap Three, on the back straight. Somewhat 
distractedly, I plucked them out of the cleft of her buttocks and Anastasia 
thanked me politely.

Back at the front again, Anastasia was looking apprehensive for the first 
time. 

It's not too low-cut, is it, Miss? I mean, it does cover my nipples and quite 
a lot of my moons."

"Your moons?"

"Yes, my moons." She reached down and uncovered a moon for me. Rather 
as I had suspected, it was an areola. It was certainly a full moon. The 
disgracefully fat nipple was best described as turgid. Anastasia's nipples 
were obviously looking forward to an evening of protracted and 
abandoned lust with Clark. Good luck, Clarkie-boy.

"From here, Anastasia," I told her severely, "half of your moons, as you call 
them, are sticking out. It is a decidedly erotic sight and is liable to get you 
arrested. Your top, in a word, is obscene!"

She dissolved in tears. Her shoulders shuddered, and the motion was 
transmitted downwards to the swollen masses of her unsupported bosoms. 
These bosoms were plural. I studied the effect for some time, until the girl 
stopped crying. She took off her glasses and wiped them on the stretchy 
material of her top. What was it, I wondered, a sweater? A T-shirt? From 
the front, there wasn't enough of it visible to see what it was. What I could 
see, at the bottom of two feet of promising cleavage, was a pretty shade of 
purple, which went well with her canary yellow shorts. 

It was time for another half a lap to see her from behind again. It couldn't 
be a T-shirt, I decided, as it had no shoulders. It was one of those things 
that is supposed to support itself by wrapping tightly around the boobs. In 
Anastasia's case, anything wrapped around the boobs was bound to be 
tight. She had pulled the garment down at the front so it revealed much of 
her moons. At the back, it was a bit higher, but not much. Her shorts 
needed tugging free from her buttocks again.

"Your shorts keep crawling into the crack of your bum, dear," I explained 
kindly. "It's not very nice. I mean, it looks quite alluring to some 
observers, but it tends to leave skid-marks which give problems to the 
laundry women who have to scrub the crotch with scrubbing brushes. I 
assume you're not wearing anything underneath ...?"

Actually, I already knew she wasn't wearing anything under her shorts, I 
had looked.

"No, Miss. Panties would show. I didn't want to attract unwelcome 
attention with VPL."

At least, some of my lessons were sinking in.

"Do I have to take it off and wear something less revealing, Miss?" 
Anastasia pouted deliciously up at me, causing my loins to melt.

I studied her again. Her clothes were clean, her hair had been brushed 
until it shone. She smelled quite powerfully of girl, but given her constant 
state of arousal, that was only to be expected and not entirely unattractive. 
I heaved a sigh.

"Just pull the front up a bit, try and cover up your moons. And get Clark to 
check occasionally to make sure your panties don't disappear completely. 
Where are you going?"

"The pictures, Miss. And thanks, Miss! You're a real star." She reached up 
and flung her arms around my neck. Her lips were slack and moist, and 
her mouth opened against mine. Our eyes closed. Our tongues met and 
explored. Somewhere along the way, Anastasia's tits plopped heavily out of 
their marginal confinement, and of course, I was stark naked already. I 
should really have mentioned that.

I suppose I ought to have expected the door to open and Corinne to walk 
in.

The door opened and Corinne walked in.

"Oh, hi, Miss Meadowlark," Anastasia gurgled happily. "Miss Gruntworthy 
was just approving my clothes. I'm seeing Clark and we're going to the 
pictures." She prised herself free from my frenzied clutches and loaded her 
whopping breasts back into the boob tube again. That's what it was, a boob 
tube. Stupid name.

"So I see." Corinne's voice was icy. "Anastasia, I would like a word with 
Miss Gruntworthy in private, if you don't mind."

"Don't go, Anastasia," I bleated, clutching her to me again. 

Anastasia misunderstood my intentions and gave me a whole-hearted, 
innocent and sopping wet kiss, full on the lips. Despite myself, I was 
unable to avoid reciprocating. It was almost a minute before Corinne tore 
us apart. We stood panting, trying to get at each other again, but Corinne 
had a hand on each of our chests, above the breasts, of course.

"Anastasia," she ordered, "go and stand over there. Shan," her voice was 
more sorrowful than angry. "Go and sit on the bed. And put some clothes 
on. Shan, you have finally gone too far. I am moving out. Leaving you. You 
can sleep with the girls, as many of them as you want, just like Smegs. 
That's what you really want, isn't it? You don't want me!"

"Cee!" I wailed. "It's not like that. I only wanted Anastasia to take a 
message to go and get Amy for me. Suzanne was going to enlarge 
Cassandra with Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth 
Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus."

Even Corinne stopped at that. At least, it stopped her being mad for 
wanting Amy.

"Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-
Strength Ultra Plus? Cassandra? Why?"

I explained in a few rambling sentences.

"Miss?" Anastasia's voice was quiet from across the room. "What's Grow 
Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength 
Ultra Plus?"

"I dread to think," I told her.

"Is it stronger than ordinary Grow? Or FatLite? 'Cos now my bust is down 
to what it is now, I might be interested in growing a bit more again."

I looked at her for a moment. She was still a little on the large side, 
perhaps about a couple of feet bigger around than me. Her moons were 
quite extraordinarily large and puffy, and her nipples, still erect from our 
recent snog, were as long as the last joint of my thumbs. Still, if she really 
wanted to grow again, it wouldn't do any harm.

"Don't you dare, Shan," Corinne warned me.

"Oh, come on! Just a couple of feet, Cee! You know how tremendous she 
looked when she was over the magic hundred and fifty!"

"Please, Miss Meadowlark! I promise I'll stay smaller than you, and I do 
know how to drive a team of boys, Miss."

I formed a mental image of a stupendously-endowed Anastasia driving a 
team of boys around the school at high speed, her glasses covered with 
steam.

"Now look what you've done to her, Miss Meadowlark! You've made Miss 
Gruntworthy come."

"ME? I made her come? It's you, with your boobs hanging out and your 
nipples like chapel hat-pegs. You're a disgrace, girl!"

Anastasia was crying again. I wanted to take her in my arms, comfort her, 
suck those gigantic nipples and pluck her damp shorts out of her tight 
bottom again.

Corinne was already in the wardrobe, throwing her clothes on to the bed. 
She began stuffing them into a suitcase. I remembered how we had 
unpacked that suitcase on the day she arrived. 

"Cee, please. Don't leave me. I love you so terribly."

"You do, actually," Corinne snarled cuttingly. "Your mind is always 
elsewhere these days. And these nights. You are the most terrible lover I 
have ever had."

Nobody had ever said such a thing to me before. Surely she didn't mean it? 
I ran across the room and hugged Anastasia, our tears blending to trickle 
down our conjoined cleavages.

"Shan, come over here please. I want you to sit on my face."

My head spun. My heart pounded. My spleen did a hasty cartwheel, 
something it hadn't done for some time. "Cee?"

"Come on, here on the bed."

Anastasia released me and I flew to my lover's arms. Strangely, she wasn't 
lying on the bed in a welcoming attitude, she was standing at the bedside, 
arms akimbo.

"Sit on it," she said harshly.

"Lie down then."

"My case, shitbrains. Sit on my case so I can fasten the locks."

I sat on Corinne's case. She clicked the locks shut. One, two. "Thank you," 
she said. She wiped the traces of my juice off the case with a towel and an 
expression of disgust. Then she swung the case off the bed in one hand and 
strode massively to the door. Her boys were just outside. She never even 
looked back at me as the door closed behind her.

"I'd better get ready for Clark," said Anastasia softly, backing away. "I 
think this boob tube is a bit too revealing for a date. I'll wear a T-shirt 
instead, Miss." She turned and was gone.


**********

It was Sexy Amy who had started all this trouble, in a way. Now it was 
Amy who appeared by the bed. She was shaking me tentatively.

"Miss, wake up, Miss?"

I regained consciousness. "Wha ...?"

"Miss. You were asleep. I thought ... are you all right, Miss? You didn't come 
to Sex, Miss ..."

"Sex?"

"We'd got you for Sex this afternoon. Earning Money From Sex. Make Your 
Body Work For You."

"What time is it?"

"Four o' clock."

"But it's too late. Classes are over."

"It's all right, Miss. Toria went and fetched her sister, and she taught us. 
She's pregnant again, Miss! Isn't it great?"

"Great, yes. PANSY taught you about Sex?"

"She was ever so good. She told us all about pricing structure, special 
offers, loyalty bonuses, quantity discount ..."

"Quantity discount?"

"For boys with extra big willies, Miss. They get it cheaper on a sliding scale. 
Pansy said it's a way of guaranteeing additional pleasure for girls with 
unusually cavernous womanhoods. She showed us hers, Miss. Did you 
know, she can ..."

"Yes," I told Amy hurriedly. "She told me."

"A whole one, not just a half. One of those really thick ones." Amy held 
both her hands up as if wrapped around a six-inch diameter vegetable 
marrow. I had to close my eyes with a shudder. "She's a really good 
teacher, Miss. The whole class was coming by the time she finished. She let 
us off early for being so good. Then she took three of the girls away for 
special studies, the way you sometimes do."

Amy approached closer to the bed.

"Oh, Miss, you've been crying. Are you pregnant?"

"No, I'm not!"

"It's all right. I only wondered. Is it Miss Meadowlark, then?"

I bit my lip, and felt hot tears spurt and trickle down my cheeks. "I 
thought so, Miss. Come to Sexy Amy and let me make you better."

It was better than nothing. It was only when I was safe and secure in 
Amy's arms that I realised she had changed again. She was almost her old 
self, loving, gentle and full of interesting little tricks to pleasure a woman. 
Her monster breasts were still the same old water-filled Biggest Breasts in 
the World, but they felt quite realistic. And huge, too!

"Amy?"

"Don't, Miss. I'll tell you about it later ..."

"No!" I struggled upright and Amy sighed.

"Oh, shit. You were bound to find out sooner or later." She swiftly 
unbuttoned her school blouse and sat back on her haunches. A massive 
cleavage was exposed, but of the Biggest Breasts in the World there was no 
sign. Here before me was one hundred per cent St Cat's schoolgirl, Sexy 
Amy, bigger than ever before.

"Amy, it's all you?"

"Yes, Miss. Pansy's cousin made me better. Aren't they fantastic? It's some 
new stuff called Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth 
Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus. I got this big in two days!"


**********

It's an unnerving experience for a school teacher, the girls in her care 
getting bigger and smaller all the time. Luckily, Moggie had announced a 
new computer-generated school report card for the girls, which would be 
sent to parents at the end of the present school term. This would reduce 
the workload on the teachers by listing the marks achieved in all subjects. 
Importantly, it also included a Summary of Growth and Development.

So many parents - fathers, mostly - had been asking how their daughters 
were shaping up at school, Clit had prepared a little program which 
summarised each girl's growth, as transmitted by her readout apparatus to 
the central statistics computer. Parents could thus keep constant track of 
their girls' development in the form of a simple one or two page Statement 
of Growth, sent by mail at whatever interval they wished. 

The full Summary of Growth and Development, by contrast,  was intended 
to be provided as an addendum to the end of term report, and took the 
form of a printout about forty feet long.

Sexy Amy's SGD was going to make for confusing reading.

Now, thanks to Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth 
Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus, Amy was back to her fullest ever 
size, and then some. Mercifully, she seemed to have stopped short of 
Cassandra's Head Girl bust measurement, but it was a damned close run 
thing.

All the more reason to grow Cassandra a little bit, to restore her lead once 
and for all.

"Amy," I said suddenly. She looked at me as if she had been waiting for me 
to say something for the last ten minutes.

"Oh, thank God, Miss. You'd gone all quiet."

"I was thinking, Amy."

"Oh, Miss, no!"

"I want you to go and fetch Suzanne for me. She'll be in the restaurant, 
probably. Send her over here. Tell her it's urgent."

"Oh, Miss! I know what you want. I can guess. You want to get your own 
back on that rotten Miss Meadowlark, don't you?"

"I do?"

"You want some Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth 
Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus, so you can make yourself bigger 
than her. Hey, go for it, Miss. All the girls will be right behind you!"

"You will?"

"'Course we will. You're the best. Miss Meadowlark has been getting all 
stuck up lately. She's even been rationing her boys to one shag a week!"

"She hasn't!"

"She has. It doesn't do boys any good, being deprived of sex. It's all right 
for girls, we can always pleasure each other, but boys ..."

Mercifully, she didn't go into any more detail. My stomach wouldn't have 
been up to it.

"Well, yes," I said. "I do want some Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-
Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus, but it's not for me."

"No, Miss, of course it's not."

"It isn't!"

"No, Miss. I can keep a secret, Miss. It's all right, honest. I won't tell a soul. 
In fact, I won't even tell Suzanne. That new Grow Cream Super XL Magnum 
Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus is so strong I've 
still got more than half a tub left in my wardrobe. Suzanne says we've 
been wasting a lot of the old Boob Cream by rubbing it all over the breasts. 
I mean, it does no harm, and it feels amazing, getting creamed, but all you 
really need to do is cream the nipples and the other bits round the ends."

"The moons?"

"The what?"

"That's what Anastasia calls them. Her areolae. She calls them her moons."

"She would," Amy sniffed. "She's just a great big baby, that girl. I'm glad 
she never made it to Head Girl. She'd have been even worse than Toria."

Amy buttoned her blouse. I watched her breasts disappear with regret. I 
am always regretful when breasts disappear. "I'll go and fetch it now, Miss. 
I'll just drop it off and leave you to it. I won't tell anyone it's for you. And 
Miss?"

"Yes, Amy?"

"I hope you get to have the biggest tits in the whole Universe!"

I blushed prettily as she blew me a kiss and slipped out of the door. 





Chapter 11:- Poor Miss Gruntworthy 


Amy was as good as her word. She must have left the tub of Grow Cream 
Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra 
Plus while I was out of the bedroom for a moment. I slipped out for a wee-
wee, and when I came back, the tub was on the bed.

So was Anastasia.

"Hello, Miss," she said awkwardly. "I see you've got some of the new cream. 
I was just sniffing it to see what it smells like."

"Sniffing it? With your fingers, Anastasia?"

She looked at her fingers as if seeing them for the first time. They 
glistened with unmistakeable traces of the cream. Looking at Anastasia, I 
was unable to avoid noticing that she had taken off the offending boob 
tube. She was gloriously topless. My eyes were drawn to her nipples, and 
her moons.

They were glistening, too.

"I only put a little dob on each nipple, Miss, just to try. Just enough to 
cover my moons, nothing really." She covered her areolae with her hands, 
or as much of them as she could. "Please, Miss, don't tell anyone. It will 
never show."

No harm had been done, I supposed. I peered into the open tub. A deep 
scoop mark showed where Anastasia had taken a handful of the stuff and 
creamed herself. Still, it was done now. What will be, will be.

I felt a terrible temptation to take a handful myself and do the same thing. 
The tub seemed to exercise a strange attraction for naughty girlish fingers. 
I stopped myself just in time.

"Here, Miss, let me do it." And before I could stop her, Anastasia yanked 
my T-shirt up over my face and I felt a soft glop, glop, once on each boob, 
right down on the nipples, well out of reach. Anastasia's little hands were 
busy, creaming the ends of my boobs, one to each hand. At least, I wasn't 
going to end up lop-sided, if I stopped her now.

"Anastasia, stop!"

"There, Miss. All done. Now you'll have moons as big as me!"

"That's what I was worried about," I told her, my voice weak. Too late now, 
though. It was done. 

"Peek-a-BOO!" Anastasia pulled my T-shirt back down and giggled at me. 
"This is fun, Miss! Who shall we do next?"

"Nobody!"

"Hey, Miss. I've got an idea. Let's do Cassandra! She's huge already, but we 
could make her even bigger. Let's make her tits as big as a pair of ... of ..." 
she looked helplessly round the room for inspiration. "Let's just make them 
bigger, Miss. Twice as big as that horrible Miss Meadowlark's. Then 
Cassandra can take over all Miss Meadowlark's boys, and she'll let them 
shag as often as they like."

"You heard about that?"

"Everybody knows," Anastasia muttered, blushing. "Not that I ever use her 
boys anyway. Mine are all from Lord Ted's." This seemed to remind her of 
something. She bounced off the bed and made for her room. "I'd better get 
dressed for Clark. I'll wear something loose, in case I grow! See you later, 
Miss." 

**********

I sat on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands, feeling the cool 
breeze on my nipples where they gently brushed the carpet. They were 
being teased into erection. I was glad they had slipped out of the bottom of 
my T-shirt when I sat down. They would have been itchy and 
uncomfortable inside clothing.

It wouldn't be the Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth 
Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus making them itch, would it? It felt 
much as they had felt all those years ago in the Fourth Form, when they 
first grew. So long ago, and what had I done with my life since? Other 
women of my age had a steady boyfriend. I had nothing. Even the one girl 
I could really ever love had walked out on me. No doubt, she was curled 
up somewhere with a couple of her boys.

That was it, I realised with a flash of intuition. She was rationing her boys' 
sex, so they would have plenty left for her. Twenty four healthy teenage 
boys, allowed free girl-sex once a week, would be literally gagging  for it a 
day or so later. Who better to satisfy them than Corinne? She could easily 
service two dozen boys every day, if she wanted to. Her energy was 
limitless, I knew.

Corinne! With boys!

Again, the tears spurted, and trickled down the inner slopes of my breasts. 
Normally, tears would have dried long before reaching the ends, but 
tonight, they were pouring in such a copious flood, I could feel my nipples 
brushing against the wet carpet. It felt so scratchy. I sat up a little, and my 
nipples were still touching the carpet. Most unusual!

Oh, no!

Even sitting up straight, my boobs still touched the floor. I couldn't see 
them, but the nipples were dancing gently, caressing the rug between my 
feet. I stood up and looked in the dressing table mirror. It wasn't very 
helpful. I needed a full-length mirror.

There was one downstairs by the main doors. All the main buildings at St 
Cat's had a full length mirror just inside the doors so larger-breasted girls 
could inspect their more difficult-to-see areas before going out in public.

With a little bleat, I flung open the door and set off along the corridor. I 
collided immediately with a huge, soft body. It could only be Anastasia, I 
realised, shortly before my other senses confirmed the evidence. Anastasia 
was wearing her Clark perfume, which mingled with her girl-smell in a 
curiously arousing way. 

We rolled on the floor in a abandoned welter of flesh. Despite my feelings 
that this was not suitable behaviour for a teacher and a Junior student, I 
was enjoying it far too much. I decided to give it another ten minutes or so.

Eventually, I tore myself free and we sat up, flushed, our lips feeling 
bruised. We gazed at each other, our parted lips trembling, before kissing 
gently for a few more minutes.

"Where were you going?" I asked her huskily.

"To the mirror, downstairs."

"So was I."

"I think Amy was right," she said. "You don't need much of this new cream. 
Look at them!"

I looked at them. At Anastasia's. I didn't dare look at mine. "You were 
listening at the door?"

"Yes, Miss. You know how loud Amy's voice is. I heard her saying about the 
new Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-
Strength Ultra Plus, and how strong it is. I thought she was just having you 
on, and a little handful wouldn't make much difference. But look at my 
nipples. And my moons!"

If Anastasia had grown, most of the effect seemed to have been felt in the 
immediate area of her nipples. They were bigger than they had been 
earlier, when I had been forced to snog her by forces beyond my control. 
But her moons, which had been just a nice size before - no more than the 
size of my hand, with outspread fingers - were now puffed up like little 
breasts of their own. Little? Each areola was now the size of girl's netball. 
It would take both hands to hold one. Anastasia now had J-cup areolae! I'll 
say that again. Anastasia now had J-cup areolae!

I felt her fingers on my lower breast as she hefted one and turned it over 
for examination. "Yours are coming on nicely, Miss. Not as big as mine yet, 
but they're real puffers, Miss. Miss?"

"Yes, Anastasia?"

"We don't need to go and look in the mirror, do we, Miss? We could go back 
in and sit on the bed and describe each other's breasts to each other. Clark 
won't mind if I'm an hour or so late."

It seemed as good an idea as any. 


**********

You can say quite a lot about a pair of tits, we discovered. Without 
excessive touching, and without repeating ourselves unduly, Anastasia and 
I sat and looked at each other and described our breasts. I described hers, 
and she described mine. You wouldn't believe how arousing it became 
after those first tentative few seconds.

At last, our inspiration dried up, although speaking for myself, other areas 
were rather wet. To judge from the evidence, Anastasia was a bit moist, as 
well. She got up with a squelch and filled the kettle. Let me rephrase that: 
she filled the kettle with water from the tap, although she might well have 
been perfectly capable of filling it to overflowing with her love-juices. It 
would have made for an interesting cup of tea.

She returned, carrying two mugs, in her usual style, concentrating hard on 
one cup at a time, while spilling the other. She put the mugs down, 
replaced her tongue in her mouth, and curled up her legs beneath her. Her 
breasts, with their now quite absurdly large moons, were a deeply 
disturbing sight as they rested on the bed on each side of her thighs. For 
some reason, the fat nipples were slowly retracting themselves as I 
watched. Fascinating.

"You know, Miss," she sighed. "If anyone was to read a story about two 
women rubbing cream on their breasts then starting to grow, nobody 
would believe it."

"Truth is always stranger than fiction, love," I said. "These scientific types 
always need an explanation. If you brought a scientist in here now, he 
would refuse to believe what he was seeing until he had seen the proof."

"But it exists, Miss. Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth 
Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus is real, we've got a tub of it right 
here. They would have to believe it."

"Not necessarily. Unless they had been part of a team working on it for 
twenty years, night and day, they would dismiss it as a hoax. They forget 
that the whole secret of making breasts grow was revealed in a ghastly 
accident half a dozen years ago, right here at St Cat's. That's the missing 
link that made it all possible. Still, they can believe what they like. Ours 
are growing right now. Golly! I sound like a character in a story trying to 
explain something that happened years ago in an earlier episode! But I'd 
almost forgotten what a warm, wonderful, tingly feeling it was. I hope 
mine carry on growing for ever."

I couldn't  believe I'd just said that. Still, I must have done, as Anastasia 
replied, saying she felt the same. "Perhaps we'll be able to borrow Miss 
Meadowlark's boys," she murmured comfortably.

"Bugger that, we'll get some of our own!"

"Ooooh, could we, Miss? We could share, couldn't we! Clark could be one of 
them. He fancies you, Miss. He often says he fantasises about fucking you 
when he's fucking me!"

"He does? Clark?"

"Yes, Miss." Anastasia blushed deeply and lowered her eyelashes. "So do I. 
I imagine it's your fingers touching me in all those intimate places, instead 
of his. It makes me go. Or come."

I felt uncomfortable. "You'd better get ready and go and see him. He'll be 
wondering what's become of you."

"I suppose so." She got up reluctantly. "You know, I think I will try and 
wear that boob tube after all!" 


**********

I had missed my evening meal, and I was starving. By eight thirty, I could 
stand it no longer. Even if my hips measurement soared into the middle 
fifties, I was going down to the village to pig out on beer and fish and 
chips. Chauntaille Gruntworthy was in need of food.

It hadn't been a good idea, wearing jeans. They don't exactly suit young 
ladies with Considerably Fuller Figures, although on this particular evening 
they created a favourable impression on a bloke in the pub who seemed 
uncommonly attracted to my buttocks. He was a red-faced character with 
sun-bleached hair and muscly arms that stuck out from his sides. A farmer 
of some sort. By nine-thirty, we were strolling arm in arm down the village 
street to the chippie, where he treated me to a monster portion of Britain's 
Finest. Then he just sat there and watched me eat my fill. I ate his fill as 
well. By ten o' clock, when we stumbled out through the doorway into the 
village street, I was bloated and farting and ready for love.

I never even asked his name. He knew me as "one of they young ladies 
from up at the school" which was distinctly flattering, and he had a fridge 
full of beer. There was also - God knows why - a gigantic chocolate gateau, 
which seemed like a good idea at the time. By the time I had demolished 
that, I was still ready for love, and certainly still farting, but my intended 
lover had fallen asleep in one of his overstuffed armchairs. Still slightly 
peckish, I scavenged the kitchen for more food to keep me going on the 
long walk back to St Cat's. I found an unusually large Cornish pastie and a 
family sized can of beans, which, along with a pint of milk, set me up 
perfectly.

Singing tunelessly, and even I could recognise that, I lurched home to my 
lonely bed. Luckily, I remembered how lonely the bed was likely to be, so 
I diverted in a great reeling detour and banged on the door of the 
caretaker's shed.

"Lemme in, Jemmy, I knowyer in there. Jemmeeee!"

A light came on, and a few seconds later, Jeremy appeared at the door with 
a bath towel flung round his loins. "Shan? For Christ's sake, what are you 
on? It's gone midnight!"

"Hello, darling!" I blundered in and grabbed at my darling for support.

"You're pissed!" Not slow, our Jeremy.

"I'm ... hic ... pissed, darling!"

He was very patient with me, even when I threw up all over his girlfriend. 
I think I recognised her as being from the Lower Sixths, but she wiped the 
worst of it off with a towel and made off into the woods, leaving her 
clothes behind in a heap by the bed.

"Ooh, look, Jemmy! Clothes. I wanna dress up! I was a bit large for the girl's 
school uniform, but it must have made quite an impression on Jeremy, 
because he dragged me into bed and gave me such an almighty seeing-to 
that I almost sobered up. 

"Fuck me, Jeremy!" I wailed , in a moment of clarity.

"But I already am," he pointed out.

"Oh. In that case, woo-woo-woo-woooWOW! Oh, my God. Golly-golly-golly-
gosh! Wheee!"

After that, we must have both fallen asleep. 


**********

My mouth felt like the bottom of a parrot's cage. There was even a parrot 
in it, it woke me up saying "Shan, wake up! Wake up, Shannie!"

"Shut up," I told it, and rolled over in the bed. "Ouch," I said to the parrot, 
"I squashed my tit, Polly!"

"Squashed your tit, squashed your tit."

Enough of this. I spat out the parrot and sat up. Jeremy was wiping up the 
remains of my supper in a saddened way. He looked up and came over 
with a mug. "Black coffee, darling. I don't know why I put up with you. It 
must be because I love you so much. Here, drink up." And he sat beside me 
on the bed and put an arm round behind me. It felt warm and comforting, 
and I rested my head on his big strong shoulder.

"Love you, Jeremy," I said indistinctly, before handing him the mug with a 
sense of urgency and launching another load of sick at him. I recognised 
baked beans, and bits of diced carrot, from God knows where. "Cornish 
pastie," I remembered, and told him. He seemed less than interested. So 
unfeeling, boys can be.

Then I saw why he wasn't listening to my explanation of the diced carrot 
on his best clean seducing duvet cover. He was staring at my chest, or 
rather where my chest was, down in my lap. He pointed a shaky finger at 
it.

"You've grown!"

"So I have!" I took a look, and had a bit of a feel round. There was a lot of 
me there. I knew it was me. You do, somehow. "It's the Grow Cream Mega-
Super XL Magnum Mammothvast Mamma Plus Double-Strength Ultra. 
Plus." I was sure I'd got the name right. "It makes you grow, you know."

"It does? Shan, have you seen those things of yours? You're ginormous!"

"I always was. I used to be the biggest girl in the school, until all the others 
started growing bigger. How big am I, anyway?"

For some reason, Jeremy has a full length mirror on the wall just inside his 
door. Probably so the girls he fucks can see if they are properly dressed 
before returning to their lessons. I studied myself. After that, it was time 
to sit down, before I lost the last remains of my supper. No doubt about it. 
You didn't need very much Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-
Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus. Not very much at all. 

**********

Jeremy brought Clit over to his shed. She was swearing like a trooper. "You 
drag me out here because one of your little trollops has lorst her bra one 
more time, Mr Jeremy, and you're 'istory," she was complaining bitterly as 
she came in. "Miss Gruntwurvy? You?"

"Why not me? I fuck as well, you know."

But she was staring at my chest. It was one of those mornings when people 
stared at my chest. I loooked down at it myself. "Oh, shit," I said. "I'm 
bigger."

"Bigger? Miss Gruntwurvy, you are mountainous!"

There you are. Clit knows. Straight from the horse's mouth. She took my 
hand and helped me up off the bed.

"We might get one of Amy's special bras on to you. Funny thing, they're 
back in stock again. I'll go and get you one. Don't come out. You'd better 
stay in here until we can disguise those things a bit for you. Although 
people are bound to notice, I think." 


**********

Word spread like wildfire around St Cat's. As usual, it was the Junior school 
where the news first broke.

"Hey, Suze, have you seen Miss Gruntworthy?"

"Yeah, she teaches us Sexual Chemistry and Sex and English. Ordinary sort 
of woman, average height, droopy tits, enormous ars ..."

"Suzannnnnnne!"

"Yes, Pan-zee?"

"Have you SEEN her, this morning?"

"No. Why should I?"

"She's grown."

"Tits?"

"Got it in one. And that's not all. So has Anastasia. One of the girls saw her 
arriving in a taxi last night. She'd been out with that Clark ..."

"I don't know what he sees in her. She wears glasses ..."

"She'd been out with Clark," Pansy pressed on doggedly. "And this girl 
reckoned she was bigger, too. She had a boob tube on, and shorts ..."

"Not those shorts that creep up her arse all the time?"

"She didn't say, probably."

"Oh, smelly poo!"

"But this girl said she had her boob tube on, and you could see her moons!"

"Her what?"

"Her moons. These things." Pansy left her cousin in no doubt as to what her 
moons were. She briefly plucked young Tanya away from one breast and 
showed Suzanne the engorged nipple and swollen areola. "This bit, round 
here," she said. Young Tanya protested before returning to her breakfast, 
and the other girls in the restaurant removed their hands from their ears 
and continued their interrupted conversations.

Suzanne pulled a disapproving face. "You can always see them when she 
wears that tube thing. She pulls it right down so you can see everything."

"I know, but this girl, she said her moons were HUGE. She told us they 
were as big as her tits."

"As big as whose tits? Anastasia's?" 

"No, this girl who saw her, her tits."

"How big are hers?"

"Oh, nothing much, about this big." Pansy demonstrated with her free hand.

"Anastasia's moons were as big as that? That's HUGE!"

"That's what I'm telling you. And she said her tits were even bigger than 
usual. Out here, she said."

"Out where?"

"I can't show you while I'm feeding the baby. Use your fucking 
imagination, can't you?"

"Bigger, though?"

"Bigger!"

"Oh, shit! And talking of huge tits ..."

Shona wobbled up to their table. Her breasts started leaking as soon as she 
saw the baby. Great dark patches of milk spread across her blouse, turning 
it transparent. Her bra became visible through the material, an attractive 
shade of dog-vomit yellow with purple trimmings.

"Have you seen Miss Gruntworthy, they reckon she's grown. Oh, fuck this," 
she added, trying to hold her milk-sodden blouse away from her skin. 
"Every time I see a baby, I get gallons of milk spurting out."

"You know there are always babies in the restaurant at breakfast time," 
Pansy accused her. "You should milk yourself before you come in here."

"There isn't time. By the time I've had a w..." she remembered her big 
news, "Miss Gruntworthy has grown. One of the girls saw Miss Clit going 
into Mr Jeremy's shed this morning with a HUGE bra and some clothes. 
Anyway, she thought she'd find out who Mr Jeremy is knobbing, 'cos she 
fancies him herself, which was why she was hanging around outside his 
shed, and she saw Miss Clit going in there."

"How does she know Jeremy's not knobbing Clit?"

"Nobody knobs Miss Clit," Shona assured her firmly. "Anyway, do you want 
to hear this or not?"

"Yes, please," Pansy swapped young Tanya to her other breast. Shona's 
blouse began to drip on to the table.

Shona's voice dropped to a whisper and the other two sat closer. The huge 
girl's breasts were now pressed against the table, and milk was literally 
bubbling out to soak the tablecloth around them. 

"She hung around outside the shed for half an hour. Then Miss Clit came 
out. She said she looked as if she'd just been fucked."

"I thought you said nobody fucks ..."

"No, Suze. Fucked by a woman. It's not the same thing at all. So she looked 
in at the window, and there was Mr Jeremy, making coffee, and Miss 
Gruntworthy, in a brand new shirt and jeans."

"New jeans?"

"She didn't say. Does it matter?"

"Miss Gruntworthy shouldn't wear jeans," Suzanne said, "not with her arse."

"Don't you want to hear about her shirt? It was her shirt this girl noticed." 
Shona waited for attention before carrying on. "Her shirt was out to here!"

"Where?" said Suzanne, "I wasn't looking."

"Bigger than yours. Bigger than Pansy's. Bigger than mine!"

"No!"

"Yes!" Shona was gratified by the reception of her second-hand story. 

"Poor Miss Gruntworthy," sighed Pansy.

"Poor? Why?" Shona stared at her.

"It must be terrible to finally get a decent sized pair of boobs when you're 
too old to enjoy them."

Wise words indeed. Her two friends nodded sadly.

"Poor Miss Gruntworthy." 





Chapter 12:- We All Love You, Miss Gruntworthy 


"This is terrible, Jeremy. I daren't go out like this."

"You look fantastic, Shan. You look the way you used to when you were 
younger. Just bigger, that's all!"

I thought about that statement for a while. "Thanks, Jeremy. You're so 
kind." The bastard.

He came over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "You look radiant, darling. 
Blooming!"

"That's what they always say about pregnant women when they can't 
think of anything nice to say about them. I look HUGE!"

"You ARE huge, Shan. That's what's so wonderful about you. You had let 
yourself go a bit, you have to admit."

"Me? Let myself go?" I aimed a slap at Jeremy, but he was away out of 
reach, beyond my breasts.

"Look in the mirror again, darling, look at yourself. You are beautiful."

He led me to the mirror and stood just behind me with a gentle hand on 
my shoulder. I wanted him again.

"No," he insisted. "Not now, Shan. There'll be plenty of time for that later. 
Just look at yourself. Look at those womanly hips, those thighs, those 
calves."

I looked at them. Womanly was certainly the right word.

"Look at that lovely face, those little dimples, that silken hair tumbling in 
abandoned curls."

"It needs brushing. I look a sight ..."

"Look at that fantastic, shirt-bursting bust of yours. Not the biggest in the 
school, but certainly the most beautiful."

"Oh, Jeremy ...!"

"Shan, not yet! Look at the way your pointy, spiky nipples show through 
your shirt and bra, right down there by your lovely big pussy! They must 
be two feet apart, darling!"

I looked. They must have been all of two feet apart.

"Now turn round."

There wasn't much room to turn round, with my tits sticking out like that, 
but I managed it in the end. As we hugged each other, my breasts felt like 
beanbags between our bodies.

"They're like beanbags, Shan!" He was unfastening the buttons of my shirt. 
I helped him. It would save time. Gently, he turned me round again to 
release the heavy duty velcro of my bra. There can be no more erotic 
sound than two separate nine-inch strips of heavy duty velcro being 
ripped apart. A great weight was removed from my shoulders, as together 
we lowered my breasts to their fullest extent. Jeremy guided me across the 
room and we rested them on the bed. From behind me, he worked 
urgently on the belt of my jeans; eased them down as I wriggled my 
bottom to help.

"Just bend forward, Shan, darling. That's it, let your tits rest on the floor. 
Like that. Stand with your feet apart a bit more. There. Yessss!"

'Yessss' seemed to sum it up fairly well. I could think of no more suitable 
word in the English language. "Yessss, Jeremy! Love me!"

"I do love you, Shan!"

God, there was miles of him! I was so wet and so vast down there, yet it 
felt like being penetrated by an elephant. Either his willie or his trunk, I 
thought irrelevantly. Why do I think such things while I am being 
thoroughly shafted by a gorgeous hunk of manhood like Jeremy.

"Marry me, darling," I panted. "I want your babies!"

"Shan!"

"Woo-woo-woo-woo-WOW!"


**********

"There must be something wrong with this readout. I can't get it down 
below 150 inches."

"There's nothing wrong with it, darling. You really are that big!"

"But it's two and a half feet bigger than I've ever been before. It's nearly 
as big as Toria, and Anastasia, Shona ..."

"You're a big girl, Shan. You can carry it off. They are all little skinny girls 
... well, Shona isn't, but the others are. They just look ridiculous, but you, 
you're fantastic! There, done." He did up the last shirt button and patted 
the side of my breast. It jiggled heavily. Everything it did, it did heavily.

"Wish me luck, darling!"

"You won't need it, Shannie. They all love you. You'll be a sensation."

One last kiss, then I cautiously opened the door of the caretaker's shed and 
stepped out into the morning sunlight. No cheering crowds greeted me 
frenziedly. The girls were already in their first classes. I had a free period 
until morning break, then I would face the ordeal of meeting the Second 
Form Sexual Chemistry Group. 

They would all love me, Jeremy had said.

But there was only one person in St Cat's I wanted to love me. And it was 
too late to win her back. She had moved her belongings out of our room, 
for good. I would swap everything, my beautiful new figure, everything, to 
have Cee back again.


**********

Jeremy had dressed me even more carefully the next time, after I had fled 
back into the shed and burst into tears in his arms. We made melancholy 
love on the littered bed, still damp from my earlier juices, until he picked 
me up and dressed me like a Cindy doll. He even threatened to take me 
personally over to the lab for my period with the Second Form Sexual 
Chemistry Group. 

"How will it look if the St Cat's bloody caretaker has to lead you to your 
classes?" he said. "Shannie. Get out there and face them. You can't come 
running back in here every time. And Shan. Corinne will have to make her 
own mind up what she wants to do. You can't rush her into anything. She's 
hurting as bad as you are, darling!" 

What would he know about anything? He's only a man.


**********

I bumped into Smegs in the corridor leading down to the lab.

"Hi, Shan, what time did you get in last ni ... Christ, look at your tits!" Her 
voice boomed out, and forty girls spun round, giggling. I looked at my tits. 
They were much as I remembered them.

"Hello, Smegs. I seem to have got involved with the new Grow Cream."

"You've been trying Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth 
Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus? You're certainly looking radiant. 
But you're a braver girl than I am. Anastasia showed me hers last night."

I gasped. "She showed you hers?"

"Well, yes, she did actually. But she showed me her boobs as well. And her 
moons. Wowee! She's fucking HUGE! Watch out Cassandra!"

"Big as that, huh?" I shouldn't be feeling jealous, but I suppose I was, a 
little teeny bit.

"You're looking pretty big yourself, though, Shan. It makes the rest of you 
look smaller, too. You had let yourself go, you know. It was a bit shameful."

"Shameful. Thanks, Smegs. You're a pal. Anyway, I must go. I've got the 
girls of the Second Form Sexual Chemistry Group this morning."

"You'll slay 'em, Shan, babe. Get in there."

We had come to a halt in front of the lab door. Smegs took me gently in her 
arms and kissed me tenderly, lovingly. I rubbed myself against her firm 
volleyball breasts, moaning softly into her open mouth. Girls passing in the 
corridor grinned at us, or averted their eyes and passed by on the other 
side, according to their nature.

"Love ya, Shan!"

"Love you, Megan!"

She held me at arms length. "Megan is it? This is serious! I shall have to 
clear out the soiled panties from my room tonight." She was only half 
joking, I could tell.

"That would be nice," I said shyly.

"Later, then!"

"Later." I opened the lab door, and Smegs winked broadly at me. I gave 
her a little wave of the fingers, and stepped into the lab. 


**********

"Don't cry, Miss," said Pansy, her arm round my shoulders. "We didn't 
mean to make you sad."

"I know, it's all right, Pansy. It was just all too much for me, that's all. The 
way you all stood up and cheered and clapped when I walked in ... the 
tape recorder playing ... whatever it was playing, and this cake, and 
everything ...!"

The girls were quiet again now, working contentedly away at their 
benches. Puffs of lurid smoke and occasional minor explosions were the 
only signs that they were on the verge of a great breakthrough in Sexual 
Science. Pansy had brought young Tanya to me to let me hold her. Such a 
kind girl. The baby nuzzled at my chest, but it was a lot lower down than 
she was used to. She felt tiny and defenceless, and so completely trusting. 
Just like mine and Jeremy's baby would be. One day, perhaps. I might have 
twins. Both boys, just like Jeremy.

"You ought to have a baby, Miss. She really loves you, look!"

Tanya had given up on finding milk and had closed her eyes contentedly. 
"I'll hold her, Pansy," I said. "You carry on with your work, okay?"

"Thanks, Miss. Your boobs are lovely, Miss. You look so ... radiant! And we 
all love you ever so much!"

"Oh, Pansy!" Tears dripped on to Tanya, and I wiped them off with a tissue. 
Why was everyone so lovely in this school?"

Suzanne approached. She turned a chair round and straddled it, leaning on 
the back to study me.

"That's not a very ladylike way to sit, Suzanne," I told her sternly, "I can 
see right up your skirt to where your panties are creeping into the moist 
little crack of your furry pussy."

"Of course you can, if you bend down like that, Miss. Sit up straight and 
you can't see anything."

She was right. I sat up straight and couldn't see anything.

"Was it the Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast 
Double-Strength Ultra Plus, Miss? You look radiant, Miss."

I blushed prettily. "Yes. It's very strong. You only need a little bit around 
the nipples. You don't need to cream them all over any more. Anastasia did 
mine after she did her own. She grew as well."

"Have you seen her this morning, Miss?"

"Not yet. I ... didn't sleep in my own bed last night."

"I don't blame you, Miss, if Miss Meadowlark wasn't there. Did you get off 
with Mr Jeremy?"

"Of course I didn't ... well, yes, I did. He was very understanding. "

"You ought to marry him, Miss. There aren't many like him around."

"I know."

The silence grew. 

"Miss?"

"Yes, Suzanne?"

"We all love you, Miss. That's why we cheered when you came in looking 
so ... so big. If we can help you get back together with Miss Meadowlark, 
we will, Miss. We'll do anything to make you happy again."

"Ooooh, Suzanne!"

The class looked up from its work, startled, as I began to cuddle Suzanne, 
publicly, in full view of all of them. Our mouths met hungrily. The girls 
abandoned their benches and formed a ragged circle around us, and Pansy 
took young Tanya from me to allow me free rein. Joyous gasps of delight 
broke from the girls as they watched, picking up valuable pointers and 
little tricks they could practise later on each other in the dorm. At last, we 
broke apart, panting. The girls all said, "Aaaaaaah!"

It was one of those occasions where Corinne usually burst in and 
discovered me snogging one of the girls. Not this time, I thought. Now 
Corinne was no longer my bestest friend, she was never going to burst in 
on me again.

"Bring that box of tissues," Suzanne ordered, "then get back to work, you 
lot. Miss Gruntworthy has had enough." The girls obeyed instantly. "Let me 
dry your tears, Miss. Here you are. Take a tissue, blow your nose ..."

I did, with a trumpeting noise.

"That's a good Miss. Now you just sit quiet and have a good little cry. Tell 
me if there's anything you need."

There was only one thing I needed, and she wasn't there.

"Hello, Shan!"

I was even hearing her voice now, hallucinating. I took another tissue and 
scrubbed at my eyes miserably. It came away black. Last night's mascara, 
or dirt?"

"Don't cry, Shan, it's not that bad."

What did she know about how bad it was? Tears tricked into my mouth. 
I'd forgotten to close it again.

There was an arm round my shoulder. "Shannie, let it all out, baby. Come 
on, sweetheart, tell Cee all about it!"

Vaguely, I could hear the sound of the girls packing up their books and 
leaving the lab. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Suzanne and Pansy 
winking at me as they left the room.

Then I let it all out and told Corinne all about it.





Part V





Chapter 13:- Anastasia Breaks All Records


"Your hair looks nice, Shan."

Gulp. "Thanks!"

"And your boobs are fantastic. Is it that new Grow Cream Super XL 
Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus?"

"Yeah! Strong stuff, huh?"

"So they say. You look radiant, too."

"You're the second one to say that this morning. No, the third. Fifth! I can't 
keep track of it all. Everyone's been so nice. Thank you!"

"I'm so sorry, Shan. About walking out on you and everything."

"That's all right, Cee." My heart was pounding.

"I've got another room now, just me and the boys. Well, four of the boys. 
Usually the same four, but I mix them up occasionally. You should come 
over and see it sometime. It's that empty classroom on the ground floor. 
I've got stacks of room in there."

"I'd like that, Cee!" It was hard to talk with a lump the size of a golf ball in 
my throat.

"I can't come back to you, Shan. You know that, don't you?"

I could only nod my head. Words wouldn't come out properly.

"It's not you, Shan, it's the way I am. I need my space. Me and the boys. 
We can still be friends, though. I want to be friends."

"I love you, Cee," I choked.

She moved closer and took my hand but said nothing. Then she let go and 
moved away a pace or two, clenching and unclenching her fists. "I've got to 
see to my class. I left them working on their drawings for Mobility Devices 
for the Outrageously Overdeveloped." Her lips were soft and warm, but dry 
against my cheek. "Take care, Shannie!"

"Bye, Cee!" 


**********

I couldn't face the crowds in the restaurant at lunchtime. I found one of 
Corinne's boys hovering by the door and asked if he would bring me some 
food up to my room.

"Of course, Miss Gruntworthy. Anything special you want?"

"No, nothing special." Well, only one thing, and the boys couldn't bring me 
that.

The room was big and empty without her things littered about the place. 
When a knock came on the door, my heart leapt into my mouth. Not 
Corinne. Corinne wouldn't knock. "Who is it? Come in!"

Two boys struggled in with a picnic basket. It was big enough for half a 
dozen lunches.

"We brought you a nice selection, Miss Gruntworthy." With a flourish, the 
first boy flung open the lid of the hamper. It was stuffed with food: there 
were pies, little containers of vegetables - all hot and steaming - bread 
rolls and butter, a big fat thermos flask of soup, cakes - dozens of cakes - a 
bottle of wine and another flask of coffee. 

"I hope it's enough, Miss. Cee didn't see us bring it, Miss. We have to get 
back to her."

"You call her Cee? She lets you call her Cee?"

"Only in private, Miss."

It was reasonable enough, I supposed. After all, she wasn't all that much 
older than her boys, and if they slept together, she could hardly expect 
them to call her 'Miss Meadowlark' all the time.

"We all wish you were back together with her, Miss."

"We miss you, Miss!"

"So does she, Miss!" The boy's voice cracked. Boys' voices do crack at a 
certain age.

"Thank you, boys. Run along, now."

I hadn't realised until now how hungry I was. That pie looked nice. I slid it 
on to a plate and piled it high with vegetables. Potatoes, carrots, beans, 
more potatoes. There was even a little jug of gravy ...

Half an hour later, I indulged in a luxurious belch and rolled on to my back 
on the bed, unable to budge an inch. I was literally stuffed.

I suppose I must have dozed off, because I was in the middle of a vivid 
dream about Santa Claus and his reindeer dashing through the snow. It 
was in colour, I remembered: Santa was clean-shaven with big breasts and 
he was wearing navy blue: unexpected and certainly unexplained.

"Team, turn left ... No! LEFT!" Santa screamed at the animals in a clear, 
high-pitched voice. He spoke English. Probably he had to speak English in 
dreams, otherwise nobody would understand. No good him talking Lapp, or 
whatever language reindeer spoke.

"Team, HALT!"

It seemed to come from outside. So did the muffled splash that followed 
the last order, and the chilling scream. I grunted and heaved myself to my 
feet, and blundered over to the window. Six of Corinne's boys were 
standing beside the fountain in the centre of the quadrangle. The fountain 
was still turned off to save the planet. Its normally unbroken covering of 
green slime had been recently disturbed, and as I watched, aghast, 
Anastasia surfaced, dripping slime. At first, I could hardly recognise her, 
but she plunged her hand below the surface and came up with her glasses, 
which she wound around her ears, blinking.

They didn't help her to see, but they made it more clear who she was. 
Stupid girl, she would never learn. She was always crashing into that 
bloody fountain.

The boys helped her out, and she stood in their midst, a bedraggled figure. 
The boys looked crestfallen. They had failed their young driver, acted 
slowly on her orders and dumped her in the slime. 

Anastasia would be certain to tell Corinne about this latest fiasco. They 
would lose sex for this for sure. Corinne was a hard task-mistress when it 
came to sex-rights. The boys knew that from bitter experience.

That was when I realised why Anastasia had been so unrecognisable. Her 
shape seemed to have changed. No longer was she a skinny little girl with 
glasses and huge tits. She was now apparently a dumpy little thing with 
glasses and huge tits. Something was different. Something I couldn't put 
my finger on. I slid the window open.

"Anastasia, come up here at once!"

"Yes, Miss," she replied mournfully, and said something to the team of 
boys. They wiped some of the slime off her body, and I realised what had 
changed about Anastasia. She had grown. No, wait a minute, make that 
GROWN. The boys had been carrying her tits for her, three boys to each, 
and they had lost control. The reason was obvious. Anastasia needed at 
least four boys to each breast, not three!

As they slowly turned her round and took hold of her assets again, the 
sheer awesome size of the new Anastasia became apparent. Groups of 
stunned girls, attracted by the commotion, stood around staring at her in 
stupefaction. She was inconceivably vast. Never mind what Smegs had said 
earlier, 'look out Cassandra,' this was a clear case of 'hand over that Scarlet 
Sash, Cassandra!'

No question about it. The disconsolate little party had disappeared from 
view, evidently entering the building. At any moment, they would be 
coming up the stairs, dripping a trail of stinking green slime, and Anastasia 
would be standing on the rug, meekly awaiting her punishment. Quickly! 
No time to lose.

I edged out of the suddenly narrow doorway, clutching a towel and a 
bottle of shampoo. Just in time, the bedraggled party was coming up the 
stairs.

"Take her straight into the showers," I shouted. I threw the shampoo and 
towel to the nearest boy. "Give her a good going-over, and don't bring her 
back until she's clean."

"Yes, Miss. Thank you, Miss!"

The boys realised they were not about to be punished. They were not 
about to lose their sex-rights. Not for a while, at least. In fact, it was all 
their birthdays and Christmas and everything else rolled into one. They 
were being allowed ... no ... ordered ... to take an incredibly developed and 
famously insatiably horny young girl with them into the showers, and give 
her a good going-over. Nuff said.

Even as they went into the shower room, there was a great shedding of 
clothing. Anastasia had hers off first, but the boys were not far behind. The 
door closed behind them, leaving only a trail of green stuff on the floor and 
a hauntingly musky smell of sex. That would be Anastasia, of course: I 
would recognise that odour anywhere at thirty paces.

"Good luck, lads," I said to myself. They would need it. They probably had 
no idea what they were getting into. Literally.


**********

She came into my room on her own. 

"Where are the boys?" I asked her.

"Recovering. I had most of them twice, but the last two couldn't get it up 
the second time. I feel really sore!" She clutched at herself through her 
dressing gown. She was wearing a dressing gown, but she was wearing her 
breasts outside it. I observed them closely. Her moons had continued to 
grow since last night, to well over halved-basketball size. Not that you can 
halve a basketball, it would just go flat, but you know what I mean.

The effect was less outrageous, because her breasts had expanded so 
dramatically. She put her hand up in the air, as if she was in class. "Please, 
Miss?"

"What is it, Anastasia?"

"May I sit down, please? These things are getting heavy."

"Sorry, love, I forgot."

"Thanks, Miss." She sighed heavily and, crouching slightly - the movement 
causing her to fart - she lowered them to the floor. Then she carefully sat 
down. Her breasts settled about her like dear friends and she gathered 
them in close to herself, not without pride, I realised.

I sat on the floor beside her. It seemed the right thing to do, somehow. "I 
suppose we'd better call Miss Thunderbolt, hadn't we? You've got to be 
bigger than Cassandra, now."

She grinned at me cheekily. "Yes, Miss. There's no hurry, Miss, is there? 
She'll need to arrange the ceremony of Handing over the Sash, and 
everything. And I need to see Miss Clit about my new bras, and perhaps a 
wheelbarrow, and some boys on permanent loan ..."

"You've really thought about this, haven't you?"

"No, Miss." Her face was shining with well-scrubbed innocence, her eyes 
huge behind her lenses. "Well, it did cross my mind that if I got bigger 
than Cassandra, I might get to be Head Girl of St Cat's, but I didn't 
deliberately set out to do it. I suppose I am bigger than her?"

"No question of it, love. You're nearly as big as Miss Meadowlark, now."

"Oh, I wish she was here, Miss, she'd ..."

She stopped, and put her hot little hand on my shoulder. "Sorry, Miss. I 
didn't mean that. Of course, I wish she was here all the time. I love you, 
Miss!"

Another one. Everybody loves Shan. Everybody except ...

"I'll go and see Miss Thunderbolt. You stay here. Let the boys dry you off. 
Plenty of talc under your arms, and under your boobs, too. I'll be an hour 
or so, but if you do fuck them, please try not to make the bed wet, there's 
a good girl."

"Thanks, Miss. We'll do it on the floor, Miss!"

I kissed the top of her head as I got up, and went out. She was rubbing her 
hair with a towel as I closed the door. I found her boys in a bewildered 
group, still recovering, by the door of the shower room.

"She's ready for you in my room if you're up to it, lads."

A chorus of groans was the only response.

"Come on, she really wants you. She's frothing for it in there."

A couple of the boys got to their feet. "I suppose we'd better. Come on." 
They gathered themselves, girding up their loins. My heart went out to 
them, brave lads. Tin hats, over the top, into the mouths of the cannon and 
the machine guns. Or worse, into the maw of an incurably horny St Cat's 
schoolgirl with the biggest tits you ever saw in your life. Almost. Only one 
pair in the world were bigger.

At least, for the time being.


**********

"Ah, Chauntaille! It's been a long time. What can I do for you?" Moggie 
stared at me closely. "God, Shan, you're immense! I'd heard about this new 
stuff, what's it called?"

"Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-
Strength Ultra Plus."

"That's it. But I didn't realise how effective it was. Strip off, let's have a 
proper look at you."

When one's headmistress orders one to strip off, one has no option but to 
obey. With feverish haste, I tore my clothes off and dropped them in a 
dank pile on the carpet. Then I slid my shamefully fat bottom on to Miss 
Thunderbolt's green leather desktop and swung my legs up so I was sitting 
facing her.

"Well, it's always nice to look up an old friend, Shan, darling, but it was 
your tits I really wanted to see. Still, a few minutes won't hurt."

She began lapping at my dribbling muff. Within a matter of seconds, she 
was rewarded by a face-full of steaming Shan-juice.

"God, girl, look at the top of my desk. You know what your ejaculate does 
to my leather. Everyone will see the stains and know you've been in here 
again, apart from the smell."

"Sorry, Miss Thunderbolt!"

She sat back, wiping her face with several sheets of Kleenex. "Just like old 
times, Shan. You're as tasty as ever. Now, then, let's have a look at these 
fucking monster tits of yours. Hmmm. Very nice. Very nice indeed."

I blushed prettily. "They're still growing a bit, I think. They still tingle."

"They will do, yes. Amy's took a couple of days to grow, until she shrank 
again this morning."

"Amy shrank again? You mean ...?" I gestured down at my own chest.

"No, yours will be all right, I'm sure. Amy's an unstable platform. Her 
metabolism is in flux. She's dropped right back to ..." Moggie tapped at a 
few keys on her computer and studied the screen. "She's back to just over 
the 120 inches at the moment. Not the end of the world, although she's 
feeling a bit let down, understandably."

"How about Anastasia? I suppose you've got her readings on there as 
well?"

Moggie grinned up at me. "Of course! That's why you came to see me, isn't 
it? Not just for a good licking-out? Come on, Shan, I won't be offended."

"Yes, Miss Thunderbolt."

"Good girl. Yes, I've got Anastasia on the screen right now, and I've been 
monitoring her numbers. I haven't spoken to Cassandra yet, so we still 
have a choice ..."

"A choice?"

"Either to have Cassandra hand over the Scarlet Sash, or to take a little 
remedial action on her."

"You mean ...?"

"What do you think?"

"It was what I wanted to do in the first place," I admitted. "But Anastasia 
will be terribly upset. Reaching such a vast size and then finding that 
Cassandra has got bigger again herself."

"It's for the best. Anastasia is a lovely child, but I don't think she's Head 
Girl material. Too immature. Too fond of fucking."

A strange combination of reasons, I thought. It made her sound like me.

"Have you still got some of the Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-
Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus left?" Strangely, Moggie 
could now remember the name of the stuff just like that.

"More than half a tub. You only need a little bit now. Just enough to cover 
the moons."

"The what?"

"Moons. These things." I showed her my moons.

"You kids with your baby-talk names for your body parts! Still, I suppose 
that's what we expect when we breed an endless supply of child-women. 
Off you go and fetch it. I'll arrange for Cassandra to come up here this 
afternoon and I can watch you cream her ... moons."





Chapter 14:- Not Tested On Animals


"But Miss Thunderbolt. I don't really want to be any bigger, honest. I'm no 
age at all!"

"I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't very important, Cassandra. You know that. 
It's for the good of St Cat's."

"How can it help St Cat's if my boobs get any bigger? They're 
Brobdingnagian already."

Moggie studied them. They lay on her desk in front of us like a pair of 
slumbering hippopotami.

"Brobdingnagian is probably the right word, Cassandra, yes. But they are 
no longer the biggest in the school. Another girl has bigger ones. What is 
more, she is a skinny little girl, so her chest is smaller than yours, yet her 
bust measurement is still larger. This means her breasts are considerably 
bigger than yours. Surely this makes you jealous?"

"No, Miss. I'm not jealous. Good luck to her, if she wants to be bigger than 
me. Who is it, anyway?"

"Anastasia," I said.

"Oh, good!" Cassandra seemed genuinely pleased. "I like her, she's nice. 
She'll make a better Head Girl than Victoria did. Anastasia won't go around 
whipping everybody."

"She's too fond of sex, Cassandra," growled Moggie. 

"There's nothing wrong with sex, Miss. One day, I'll enjoy it myself. Right 
now, I just like being at St Cat's."

Cassandra was so bloody nice, it almost hurt. Moggie, I noticed, was 
winking at me. Either that, or she had something in her eye. She seemed to 
be pointing with her head at Cassandra's tits, then nodding at the tub of 
Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-
Strength Ultra Plus, then back at me. Most disturbing.

"Are you all right, Miss Thunderbolt?" I asked her.

"Of course I'm all right. I was just blinking." She blinked again, to 
demonstrate, then began twitching and nodding all over again. I was 
beginning to get the message. I think she wanted me to take a handful of 
Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-
Strength Ultra Plus and splosh it on Cassandra's moons. Cassandra probably 
wouldn't even notice. If I crept up on her from the right angle, she 
wouldn't even be able to see me.

"Excuse me, Miss." Cassandra, I noticed, had brought a small satchel or 
bum-bag with her. She opened it and took out a shiny stainless steel 
device. "Milking time," she said. "I do both my udders at once with this 
new pump. I left the can outside, Miss, would you mind ...?"

"Is this what you want?" said Miss Labia, opening the door and struggling 
in with a vast stainless steel canister, almost three feet tall. It had two big 
handles and looked capable of holding ten gallons at least. She plonked it 
down next to Cassandra and disappeared.

"Could you plug this into the electric socket, Miss?" Cassandra handed me a 
long orange power cable, connected at one end to the pump. I plugged in, 
and a low hum issued from the machine. The girl tested the suction of both 
cups, then handed the apparatus to Moggie. "I normally do this myself, but 
there's not much room in here. Could I ask you, Miss Thunderbolt, please?"

"Certainly. What do you want me to do?"

"Just smear a little bit of this special cream into each of the suction cups, 
then attach them to my nipples. They stay on by themselves." 

I detected a gleam in Moggie's eye. No, Moggie, don't do it, I thought.

The headmistress fumbled with something beneath the cover of the desk 
for a few moments, then applied the suction cups - one, two - to 
Cassandra's nipples. Instantly, the big girl's eyes closed in deepest ecstasy.

"WOW!" she said. Quite restrained, actually, but then, she was no age at all.

A trickling sound started, as milk began dribbling and spurting into the 
huge container.

"Excuse me, Miss Thunderbolt, I have to go to the loo," I said. I was 
bursting for a pee. Seconds after I sank gratefully on to the seat, I heard 
someone arrive in the next cubicle to mine. Then someone else arrived in 
the cubicle on the other side. There was a great gushing sound as we all 
three drained our bladders. It seemed to go on for five minutes.

"Bloody hell," said Moggie, for it was she on one side of me.

"Christ, I needed that," sighed Miss Labia from the other side.

"So did I. It was the noise of all that milk gushing into that can."

"Well, it's done now," Moggie said. I smeared some of that Grow Cream 
Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra 
Plus on each of Cassandra's suction cups. The machine sucks her moons 
completely into the cups, so they'll get a good creaming by the time she's 
finished milking. By this time tomorrow, she'll be out to here!"

"She's already out to way past here," I retorted acidly. "You'll make her 
explode."

Miss Labia zipped up her skirt and said nothing. We all emerged at the 
same time, adjusting our dress. Miss Labia and I washed our hands, but 
Moggie was sniffing at hers.

"Smells quite nice, this stuff," she said.

"You've still got it on your hands? Wash it off. It might get anywhere."

"It already has," said Moggie, dreamily. "I put some on my cunny."

"On your what?"

"My cunny. My puss, my cunt, my vagina, my muff, my snatch, my hole, 
my lady's dickie. Down there!"

"Why?"

"I don't know. Just to see how it felt. It felt nice when I rubbed it on my 
nubbin."

"Your ...?"

"Nubbin. Clit."

"It always feels nice when you rub your clit, Miss Thunderbolt, you didn't 
need cream on your fingers to do that. Especially Grow Cream Super XL 
Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus."

"Ah, well,"sighed Moggie. "Never mind. It's done now."


**********

"Suzanne, this is very important. Did you test Grow Cream Super XL 
Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus on 
lactating females?"

"Not yet, Miss. We need a volunteer who is milking and doesn't mind 
getting tits the size of beanbags, Miss. There aren't too many of those 
about, Miss."

This I could understand.

"Did you test it on pussies?"

"Why? We don't test on animals. If we did, a whole load of smelly women 
would come along and burn down the school."

"Pussies, Suzanne. Cunts, vaginas, muffs, snatches, holes, ladies dickies. 
Down there!"

"Oh, down there? You should have said. Not exactly."

"What do you mean, not exactly?"

"Some of it did get on a girl's pussy, accidentally. We were in the dorm, and 
it sort of got on a girl's front bottom."

I wasn't going to ask how. I did not want to know.

"How, Suzanne?"

"It was Pansy's fault. One of the girls in the dorm kept on scratching 
herself down there. She's probably caught something off one of the boys ..."

I was beginning to feel unwell.

"Anyway, Pan got some of the Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-
Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus and dipped this girl's 
fingers in it and said it would be good for her itchy minge. Soothing, like. 
So this girl, she scratched herself with the cream on her fingers."

"And what happened?"

"Dunno, Miss. She hasn't said anything."

"What was her name?"

"I can't tell you that, Miss. It wouldn't be ethical." Suzanne sounded like a 
public employee. "Let go of my throat, Miss. It was ..." She whispered in my 
ear.

"Oh, no! Suzanne, you said it was one of the girls in your class."

"No I didn't. I just said it was one of the girls in our dorm. And she was in 
the dorm. And she's not much older than a girl, is she, Miss."

"No, I suppose she isn't. Poor old Smegs. I'd better go and see her."


**********

"How is it, Smegs?"

"How is what, Shan?"

"Your pussy of course!"

"Shan, darling! How considerate of you! Are you, by any chance, feeling 
horny?"

"No more than usual. And you shouldn't be undressing in here. It will put 
the girls off their food."

"Thank you for those few kind words, Chauntaille." But at least Smegs 
began rebuttoning her shirt. She had some sense of decency left. 
Disappointed, the girls in the restaurant returned to their meals.

I looked around and lowered my voice. "How's your pussy, Smegs?"

"Why do you keep on about my pussy? It's fine. Never felt better. Its 
condition could only be improved by the insertion of several inches of 
steaming, throbbing, blue-veined cock."

"Smegs!" I was genuinely shocked.

"You did ask. So I told you."

"So no ill-effects? From the cream, I mean?"

"Cream? You mean that stuff Pansy made me rub on my puss when I had 
an itch?"

"That's right. I hate to think where you caught the itch from. Some boy, 
Suzanne said."

"She would. She's obsessed, that girl. Actually, it was a bite. I got bitten on 
the clitoris."

"You what?"

"It was an insect of some sort. It flew up my skirt when I was at a 
barbecue over at Lord Ted's. As it happens, I wasn't wearing any panties 
..."

"As it happens!"

She ignored me. "I was talking to a few male friends, and my clitoris was 
perhaps a little engorged. As I say, I wasn't wearing any panties, and this 
insect thing flew right up there and bit me. "

I was overcome with concern for my friend. "Serves you sodding well 
right," I said soothingly.

"I'll show you," she said abruptly, and hoisted her skirt to the 
accompaniment of resounding cheers from the student body. Despite 
myself, I was drawn to her appallingly huge pudenda as if by a giant 
magnet.

They - pudenda is plural - they were as normal as Smegs's lower regions 
ever could be, given the extraordinary size of her dangling labia and cock-
like clitoris. A bit of a reddish tinge, but no noticeable swelling. I withdrew 
my fingers and wiped them on the tablecloth. "And did the cream work? 
Did it cure the itch?"

"Straight away. I was sceptical, of course, when she said it was designed to 
soothe itching front bottoms. Why, I wondered, should the Second Form 
Sexual Chemistry Group produce something like that?"

"They didn't. That cream was Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-
Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus. The same stuff that 
made my breasts so wondrously full and huge."

To my satisfaction, Smegs went pale. "You mean, I rubbed Grow Cream 
Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra 
Plus on my thingie?"

"You did. It's a wonder those labia of yours aren't trailing on the ground by 
now."

"No thanks to those girls of yours," she spat vicously.

"Still," I said brightly. "All's well that ends well! We have discovered a 
miracle cure for insect bites. Science works in mysterious ways, 
sometimes."

"I hope so." Smegs looked worried. "There were a lot of insects buzzing 
round at that barbie. Some of the other girls got bitten as well. On their 
chests. They were wearing low-cut frocks, you know the way flat-chested 
girls do, showing off their non-cleavage."

"So?"

"I'm afraid I scrounged a small jar of the cream from Pansy the next day 
and sent it over to these girls. They're the daughters of the headmaster 
over at Lord Ted's. Sweet things, but no boobs at all. Terrible state of 
affairs. Three nubile girls, aged between seventeen and nineteen, and only 
ninety-four inches of bust among the three of them. And of course, now 
that the senior boys of Lord Ted's have had a taste of me - literally a taste 
- they have lost interest in flat-chested girls entirely. Professor Garibaldi is 
tearing his hair out. He'd hoped to have had them married off by now."

I became aware of something blocking out the light. A girl was standing at 
my side.

"Anastasia! You're even bigger!"

"Yes, Miss, but that's not important right now."

"It's not? What could be more important than your bust increasing to ..." I 
consulted her readout card but let go of it in total disbelief. "You're 
stupefyingly titanic! What could be more important than that?"

"I just had a call from Clark. He's grounded."

"Oh, poor Clark. Never mind. What did he do?"

"Nothing, Miss. I'm sure he didn't do anything. It was all the others. The 
whole of Lord Edward's has been grounded, Miss. Until they find the 
culprits."

"Culprits?" Smegs seized Anastasia's arm and looked at me in horror. I 
looked at Smegs. Anastasia looked at both of us and blushed slightly. 
Smegs remembered her skirt was still up round her waist. She lowered it 
and the rest of the girls resumed their meals yet again.

"What culprits?" I asked Anastasia.

"The boys who raped Professor Garibaldi's daughters. All three of them. He 
couldn't tell me any more, there wasn't time, but he said the girls broke 
into the dorms and started undressing in front of the boys. I told him the 
boys wouldn't find that particularly exciting, Professor Baldy's daughters 
are even flatter-chested than the boys are. But Clark said, 'not any more, 
Staze, not any more!' Then he put the phone down."

"Not any more, Staze, not any more?"

"That's what he said, Miss."

I turned to Smegs dramatically. "Well, Miss Mountains. What have you 
done this time?"





Chapter 15:- The Agrafobia Connection


The girls of St Cat's were up in arms.

"We want our boys," they chanted, waving banners as they surged around 
the quadrangle.

Miss Thunderbolt peered out of the window of her office. "They're 
beginning to look ugly," she said.

I joined her at the window. "They still look pretty enough to me. Look at 
that one there, she's absolutely fucking gorgeous. They grow up so quickly: 
one minute they're just kids, the next ..."

"Chauntaille!"

"Yes, Miss Thunderbolt?"

"Shut up, for fuck's sake. Our girls are revolting. They want their boys. All 
the Lord Ted's boys have been withdrawn, and the rest are simply not 
enough to keep our girls serviced. Girls who are used to getting it regularly 
do not take kindly to having to share one boy with three of their 
schoolmates. It is a totally unsatisfactory situation, not to mention its being 
so unhygienic." 

"What are we going to do?" I asked her. I turned to the rest of the staff. 
Smegs looked hunted. Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen had a self-satisfied 
smirk on her smugly Welsh face. Corinne gnawed on her knuckles. "What 
can we do, Cee? We've discussed this whole business before, about 
declining moral standards."

The others looked at me in disbelief.

"I can't believe you said that, Shan," Smegs gasped.

"We have dozens of pregnant girls here at St Cat's. We operate a flourishing 
sex slaves scheme. Young girls, some of them no age at all, are shagging 
every night. They have a boy each. Some of them have two!"

"Some have two dozen," muttered Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, glaring at 
Corinne. 

"That's different," Moggie insisted. Miss Meadowlark's boys perform a 
specific duty, carrying her breasts."

"Don't tell the girls that," I said. "Once they get the idea that the only way 
to get a regular supply of personal boys is to have a squad of breast 
carriers, every one of them is going to be creaming herself with Grow 
Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength 
Ultra Plus."

"In that case," said Moggie, "get your Second Form Sexual Chemistry Group 
on to turning the stuff out in industrial quantities. And we'd better start 
advertising for staff straight away. We're going to need ..." 

She tapped a few figures into her desk calculator. "We want five thousand, 
five hundred and twenty boys. That's every teenage boy for miles around. 
We'll need accommodation for them all. I'd better have a word with 
Jeremy about building a forty-storey tower block in the woods. We could 
have a nice tasteful design. It will take a year to build, and there will be a 
hundred hulking builder's labourers working on it. Things could be worse, 
I suppose."

Moggie always looks on the bright side.


**********

Orders are orders. Miss Thunderbolt had told me to see the Second Form 
Sexual Chemistry Group and get Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-
Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus into production on a 
commercial scale.

I couldn't just ignore the headmistress.

"How many tubs do you need, Miss?" Suzanne paused in what she was 
doing and produced a notepad and pencil from her cleavage. It was a very 
large notepad, and still warm, I observed. She sat like a stenographer, 
pencil poised.

"Suzanne. I am sorry I interrupted your wank. Would you care to finish 
first?"

"No, any time, Miss. I was at a loose end. I often play with myself when 
there's nothing else to do."

"Good. I mean, it's good that you don't like being idle. The devil finds work 
for idle hands. As long as you remember to wash your hands before you 
finish your dinner."

Suzanne stared at her fingers, which still glistened slightly, then 
transferred her gaze to her plate. "It's fish and chips, Miss. It all tastes the 
same. How would I know if my hands were covered in my lube?"

"In your what, Suzanne?"

"Lube, Miss. It's what you get oozing out of your slit, Miss. Before you 
come, Miss. You know!"

I knew. I tore my attention away from Suzanne's intimate secrets. It 
wasn't easy. She sat with one foot still up on the table, and her skirt was 
one of the shortest in the history of the entire school. Close your eyes, 
Shan.

"You're becoming most exceptionally hairy down there, Suzanne," I told her 
unnecessarily.

Suzanne blushed prettily. "I'm growing it for a friend at Lord Ted's. He's 
teaching me how to do handloom weaving, and he wants my pubic hair to 
make a little jacket. I'm saving my armpit hair, too, it's softer."

"I don't wish to know that, Suzanne," I snarled through gritted teeth. "And 
your labia are, in my opinion, unnecessarily puffy. Now, put on your 
panties and write this down, we need enough Grow Cream Super XL 
Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus for 
every girl at St Cat's. Miss Thunderbolt has spoken."

Suzanne made a few calculations. She even produced a calculator from her 
bosom. It could have been a computer, there was plenty of room down 
there.

"Wow," she said. "As much as that? I'd better place an order for raw 
materials. Will the end of the week be all right? If you want it sooner, it 
will be special delivery. They'll send a special truck if I ask nicely and 
promise the driver the use of a girl."

"I'm sure there's no real urgency, Suzanne."

"In that case, since the stuff is so powerful, we'll have time to test it out 
first. We don't want any slip-ups with the whole student body of the 
school, do we?"

"Test it out?" A warning light was flashing inside my head. "Test it? On 
whom? Where?" 

"Don't worry, Miss. We'll just test it. No animals or anything. Just on some 
girls."


**********

The phone rang. I rolled over on the bed and picked it up. The red 
numbers on the radio alarm clock said 3 05. The little red light in the 
corner of the display suggested it was five past three in the morning. It 
was dark outside.

"Hello? Chauntaille Gruntworthy."

"Hi, Miss!" The telephone sounded disgustingly friendly at this time of 
night.

"Who  zat?"

"It's Toots! Remember me?"

"Toots? How could I ever forget. You know what time it is?"

"Five past six, Miss," she said helpfully. "I know it's a bit early, but it gets 
too hot later. I just woke up, had a fuck, and t'ought I'd call you."

"Where are you?" I didn't want to hear any more of the sordid detail of 
Toots's sex life.

"What day is this?" she asked irrelevantly.

"Monday night. No, it's Tuesday, now. I think."

"Tuesday? Then I'm in Agrafobia. Seein' the Pasha. He a good ol' boy. Pasha 
Louie. His real name's Louie Louie, but we call him Louie for short. Hey, it 
de only short thing about him. Hung like a stallion."

"Toots, please."

"Sorry, Miss. Anyway, he want some girls. Usual arrangement. How many 
can we spare, seven months gone?"

"God! How should I know, at this time of night? Half a dozen, maybe? Ten?"

"Great. Can you get dem on a plane by tomorrow night? Air Agrafobia have 
a flight from Luton at seven pm, I checked. It's a fifty grand deal. I 
promised him."

"Toots ..." I protested. No use.

"I gotta go, Miss. He wakin' up again. See to it, okay?"

"Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr."


**********

Orders are orders. Toots had spoken. A quick scan of the records revealed 
seven girls in their seventh month of pregnancy. I didn't really want to go 
over and inspect them. Pregnant girls at that time in the morning can be 
curiously depressing. But one has one's duties.

They were lined up waiting for me in the ante-natal common room at 
nine-thirty. At least, by then, they were all decently dressed, and had 
stopped expressing colostrum and rubbing goat's cheese into their bellies 
or whatever pregnant schoolgirls get up to first thing in the mornings.

In fact, in their tight little uniforms, they were quite a pleasing sight, 
sitting in a row by the window. Just an everyday bunch of pregnant British 
schoolgirls, ranging from eighteen down to eleven. I walked slowly along 
the line, inspecting them like the Queen inspecting the Escort for the 
Queen's Colour. The Escort FOR the Colour becomes the Escort TO the Colour 
only after the Colour has been presented. Not many people know that. Not 
too many people, anyway.

Their tummies were all different shapes and sizes, I noticed. Strange that 
I'd never noticed that before. I had always thought all seven month girls 
would be about the same size. They leaned back comfortably in their hard-
backed chairs, their EMAT ScatBras creaking softly as they breathed. 
Pregnant girls have a special dispensation once they pass five months. 
They are allowed not to wear their readouts if they wish. These, I noticed, 
were all wearing theirs. They wore them proudly, like badges of rank, 
pinned high on their swelling bosoms.

To my horror, I found myself reading the figures as I passed along the line. 
Most of the busts were no more than average, in the fifty to sixty-inch 
range, although two of the girls were exceptionally large, even for St Cat's 
girls, easily topping the magic three figures. It was their waist 
measurements which fascinated me. They varied from forty-three inches 
upwards. In the very centre of the row sat a disgracefully pretty redhead.

"What's your name?" I asked her.

"Voluptua McCumber," she replied, in a soft, lilting voice.

"McCucumber, we call her," chirped a little girl to her left. "She's got a big 
pussy."

"I don't wish to know that. How old are you, Voluptua?"

"Fifteen, Miss. It's not that big, Miss. I've heard yours is far bigger."

"Voluptua, please! You are extremely advanced for seven months."

"Triplets, Miss. I'm really looking forward to them, Miss. My mother was 
one of twins, and so was my daddy. Look, Miss. I'm 110-55-37."

"I can see that, Voluptua!" I was having difficulty in not getting wet. A 
bust measurement of twice one's waist is fairly unusual after all. I stepped 
back from the girls and addressed them all. "You will not be having your 
triplets in the St Cat's Maternity Unit, Voluptua. Nor will the rest of you."

Seven pairs of bright eyes followed me as I paced up and down. My newly 
enlarged breasts still gave me difficulties on the turns. I had to stop and 
regain my balance. Fortunately, two of the girls rose to their feet and 
prevented me from careening madly out of the doorway.

"Thank you, girls. As I was saying, you will not be at St Cat's for the birth 
of your children. You will be somewhere much warmer." I supposed it 
would be warmer. Where WAS Agrafobia? It had a Grand Pasha, so it must 
be a hot country. A Pasha hung like a stallion, according to Toots, one who 
knew.

"Where, Miss? Not Cantelopia?"

"No, not Cantelopia."

"In a harem, though, Miss?"

"Yes!"

This was greeted with sighs of genuine relief.

"What's the Pasha like, Miss?"

"I haven't met him, I'm sorry."

"Is he hung like a stallion, Miss?"

"I think he is, Voluptua," I said, for it was she who asked the question. All 
seven girls howled with joy and sheer animal delight. Various bits of them 
bounced up and down hypnotically.

"Oooh, Miss! When do we go?"

"Tomorrow night. I'm sorry it's a bit sudden. You won't have a chance to 
say goodbye to all your friends ..."

"Shit, Miss! Tomorrow? Why can't we go tonight?"


**********

"Tonight, Miss. All tested. We're mixing the bulk quantity tonight."

Suzanne looked businesslike in a white lab coat and a clear plastic visor 
over her face.

"Tested? Already? Who did you use?"

"Miss. Don't ask, please. Trust me, it's been tested."

I like to think I can trust the girls of the Second Form Sexual Chemistry 
Group. Not that they've ever got anything right, but they are nice kids and 
they try hard. I trusted Suzanne. 

"I won't be around to supervise the mixing. I'm accompanying the party of 
pregnant girls to Luton airport, the ones that are going to Agrafobia. Seven 
of them."

"Seven, Miss?" Suzanne looked thoughtful.

"Aged between eighteen and eleven. Sweet girls. I met them yesterday. 
The Grand Pasha Louie Louie should be pleased with them, and it is fifty 
thousand pounds for school funds."

"But, Miss. I thought you were against the sex slaves business. You said it 
was corrupt and evil, and ought to be stamped out."

"But Toots said I had to send the girls ..."

"You don't have to do as Toots says. She's no age at all."

"She's in charge of sex slavery, Suzanne. I don't have a choice. Anyway, 
these girls will be well looked after. They'll have loads of sex for a month 
or so, then they'll have their babies, and they'll be looked after until it's 
time for them to come home. There's no harm in it."

"If you say so, Miss," she said stiffly.

She's such a misery sometimes, that Suzanne. 


**********

Smegs dragged me into her room as I was passing.

"Look at this, on the Nine o' Clock News," she said. "Sit on the bed." She 
swept the bed clear of its contents. I shuddered as a squirming pile of five 
stark naked First Form girls disentangled themselves without complaint 
and sat down on the floor in a row against the wall, sucking their thumbs, 
or their nipples, whichever were easier to reach.

"What's on?" I sat down on the moist bed covers. Cake crumbs and other 
horrors stuck to my bottom, which was naturally already naked as I had 
managed to get undressed in the short space between the door and the 
bed. I reached for Smegs hungrily, but she slapped my hand away.

"Look. It was on the headlines just now. The full story is coming up in a 
minute. Here ...!"

"From the Middle Eastern dictatorship of Agrafobia comes a disturbing 
story concerning a party of English schoolgirls," the newsreader was 
saying.

"Agrafobia? That's where ..."

"Shan, shhhhh! And stop groping me, you horny little cow. Here, have a 
Junior girl!"

Smegs plucked an unprotesting girl from the floor and handed her to me. 
She was a pretty little dirty blonde thing with hair down to her thighs and 
no tits to mention, just plump little double handfuls. I cupped one of her 
generously soft and burstingly exuberant buttocks and she nestled against 
me, farting somewhat noticeably.

The news continued.

"... Agrafobia Airways Boeing 757 landed at Nkhonkha Airport earlier this 
evening. Its passengers included seven schoolgirls from St Catherine's High 
School for Growing Girls in Southern England. The girls were unable to 
leave the aircraft as it was reported that their breasts had become too 
large for them to pass through the doors. The seven girls, all pregnant, are 
on a Nature Study trip to study mating techniques among inhabitants of 
the world's rain forests."

"Who told them that?" I asked.

"Labia."

"Shit!"

There was a shot of an airliner in the chocolate and orange stripes of 
Agrafobia Airways, and another of the school quadrangle with girls milling 
round, obviously taken at the time of the recruitment of Corinne's breast 
carriers, as a party of naked teenage boys was being led across the centre 
of the quad by a girl in an appallingly brief skirt.

"... St Cat's, as the school is known, is at the forefront of modern day 
thinking in education. The Headmistress, Miss Ella Wheeler Thunderbolt, 
was not available for comment ..."

"What's going to happen?"

"Ssshhh!"

"The Agrafobian authorities hope to make another attempt at dawn to free 
the girls, but a spokesman is reported as saying that they appeared to be 
still expanding. In the event of the girls becoming a permanent fixture in 
the aircraft, the British Government will become liable for a charge of up to 
half a million pounds for each day that the aircraft is out of service. This 
could be until all seven of the girls have delivered their babies. A question 
is expected to be asked in the House tomorrow by the shadow minister for 
the Environment, Dame Janet ..." 

A grim-faced and sneering opposition spokeswoman appeared on the 
screen and began to squawk shrilly at the camera in response to 
sycophantic encouragement from the interviewer.

Silence fell, apart from the orgasmic whimpering of my companion. I 
thought I heard her say, "woo-woo-woo-wow" in subdued tones, followed 
by a number which was either seventeen or seventy-nine. Either would be 
a disgraceful number of orgasms in a single day for an eleven year old 
schoolgirl. 

One was disgracefully low, the other disgracefully high.

Smegs put the remote control on the bed and looked grave. "I think the 
shit is about to hit the fan," she said. My naked First Former looked up 
anxiously at the extractor fan which had been installed after complaints 
from the cleaning staff about the smell in Smegs's room.

"What can we do? Their mums and dads will have seen the news. There 
will be two hundred and thirty angry sets of parents down here by 
tomorrow, demanding to know if their girls are the ones stuck in a jet at 
Nkhonkha Airport."

"There's only one thing to do. Hide."

Smegs always knows what to do.


**********

I hurried back to my room and flung open the wardrobe door. The sight of 
my suitcase was enough to remind me of Corinne packing her belongings. I 
stuffed it full of clothes, sensible stuff for a girl hiding from the world's 
media: three pairs of jeans, all my ScatBras and instrumented ScatPants, 
shoes, T-shirts, sweaters and work shirts. I added a little black cocktail 
dress, just in case, and the bikini Clit had made me which I had never 
dared to wear since my hips became so shameful.

The lid of the case bulged, but I managed to get it closed. Then the phone 
rang, insistently.

"Miss? It's me, Cassandra. Oh, Miss. Can you come, please?"

"Come?" I wondered what she meant.

"Come to my Wendy house. I can't get out!"

"What's the matter?" I already had a sickening feeling I knew the answer.

"The doors are too small," she whined piteously.

"The doors are too small?" Cassandra's Wendy house had been constructed 
with triple width doors throughout. This meant ...

"I'm bigger, Miss. It happened last night. When I got up, I didn't really 
notice, until I tried to put my breast pump on, and I couldn't reach my 
nipples, not even when I got hold of a tit in both arms and pulled as hard 
as I could. They're miles too big to reach. I had to send the tanker away 
empty this morning. There's milk leaking out all over the place, and the 
tanker will be here again at ten tonight, and if I send him away again, I'll 
be right in the shit. And talking of being in the shit, Miss, I can't even get 
through the door into the loo."

The poor child. I imagined her imprisoned in her idyllic little Wendy house 
in the woods, going frantic; milk swilling around her ankles, unable to 
relieve herself.

"Hang in there, Cass. I'll be right over." I slammed the phone down and 
picked up my bursting suitcase. It nearly pulled my arm off. I picked up 
the phone again.

"Hello? Bring Suzanne to the phone, will you? Hurry, girl!"

Yelling voices echoed down the line, then Suzanne came panting to the 
phone.

"Who's that? This had better be important, you've just disturbed a 
perfectly good wank."

"Never mind your wank, you horny slag. Get your fat little arse over to 
Cassandra's Wendy house. Take a tub of Shrink with you. I know you've 
got some hidden away!"

"Oh, it's you, Miss. It was still a good wank, Miss. I was having this fantasy 
about a boy from Lord Ted's, and he was teaching me how to do rug-
making using scraps of old clothes, cut up into strips ... SHRINK?"

"You heard me. Make sure it's a good batch, too. No rubbish."

"We're not allowed to make Shrink, Miss. Miss Thunderbolt's orders."

"You've got some?"

"Of course."

"Take it to Cassandra's, now. I'll see you there. Take your cousin with you, 
and the baby. And as many buckets as you can find. Get one of the girls to 
call in at the restaurant and have them make up a hamper of sandwiches, 
enough for half a dozen people for three days, and send the whole lot over 
to the Wendy house straight away, okay?"

"A picnic, Miss? In the woods in the middle of winter? At night?"

"Just DO it, Suzanne."

"Okay, okay."

I half carried, half dragged my case out of the room and down the corridor 
to the top of the stairs.

"Where have you been, Shan? We've been waiting ages. The car is ready, 
just outside the door. Come ON!"

Smegs was fretting and pacing up and down. She was surrounded by her 
little entourage of First Formers. They were obviously going with her, 
having dressed after a fashion. I took in their skimpy nightdresses at a 
glance. Dusky areolae and damp, shadowy pubes showed temptingly 
through the sheer gauziness of their low-cut and disgustingly short sleep-
wear.

"I'm not coming with you," I gritted.

"You're not ...?"

"I have more important matters to attend to. There's a kid nearly 
exploding out there in the woods."

"Fuck exploding kids. We've got to get away. Forget St Cat's. Come on, 
Shan!"

"No. You go, Smegs. Save yourself. Sauve-toi. Je reste ici. Je vais au 
Cassandre, a la maison Vendy dans les bois."

"Christ, she's flipped her lid," Smegs cried to her First Formers, one of 
whom had briefly translated to the others. "Come on, kids. We're out of 
here."

They were out of there. 

As Smegs's car rocketed away up the drive, I lugged my heavy case into 
the dripping woods, through the puddles and the mud, to where the lights 
of Cassandra's little Wendy house gleamed among the trees. From other 
directions, I could see more figures hurrying to the same destination. Two 
girls were pushing laden wheelbarrows. How sensible. We all arrived at 
the door together, and Pansy dropped what sounded like a dozen metal 
buckets on to the ground.

The noise alerted Cassandra to our arrival. "Come in, Miss. It's not locked."

Suzanne held the door and I humped my case inside, followed by Pansy 
with the baby and Suzanne herself with a huge picnic hamper and a tub of 
something sinister from the Second Form Sexual Chemistry Group. 

"You'd better have a good explanation for this, Miss Gruntworthy, or you 
are Geography," Suzanne grumbled bitterly. "Look at the state of my 
trainers."

I pointed a shaking finger at Cassandra, and spoke to Suzanne in voice 
trembling with emotion.

"There you are, Suzanne! Is THAT sufficient explanation for you?"





Part VI





Chapter 16:- The Siege Of St Cat's - Day One


"It's no use, Miss," Pansy wailed. "I can't get this milking machine on her, 
look!"

"What's the matter with it?"

Pansy held the bulky equipment in both hands. The heavy duty suction 
cups were linked together by a length of soft red rubbery hose with a T-
shaped connection halfway along its length. From there, a thicker hose 
went to the pump chamber. She tried to pull the two cups further apart, 
but the interconnecting hose was only a couple of feet long.

"It's not long enough. Her boobs are so fat now, her nipples won't go close 
enough together to get them both into the suction cups at the same time."

"It can't be. Put it on one nipple first, then I'll give you a hand to get it on 
the other one. I'm sure we can stretch things between us."

"Hurry up, Miss, please, I'm bursting!" Cassandra pleaded desperately.

"I can't even get one cup on, Pansy grunted in disgust. "Look at the size of 
this nipple. It won't go in the cup, it's so big. And her moon is so fat, the 
cup won't fit round it anyway."

"Let's have a try." I took the machine from her, and Pansy held Cassandra's 
dribbling breast in both arms while I tried to make the suction cup fit. No 
chance. No chance at all.

"It was as well I had thought of bringing all those buckets. Suzanne, fetch 
them, please."

"I hope you know what you're doing," Suzanne complained. She opened the 
door and came back in with several buckets, then went back out for the 
rest.

"Right. We'll milk her by hand. You ready, Cassandra?"

"Yes, Miss. Just hurry up."

It took all three of us to push and pull Cassandra into an armchair, then lift 
one of her breasts on to the table. The end of the breast, drum-taut with 
milk, sagged slightly where the last foot or so overhung the other side of 
the table. It was already trickling a steady dribble of pale milk into the 
first of the buckets.

Suzanne was busying herself with towels, wiping up milky puddles from 
the table and the furniture. Her face was like thunder.

"Fucking hell, Miss. I'm going to see Miss Thunderbolt about this. It's way 
past our bedtime and you drag us out here into the woods to milk this 
bitch."

"Cow, Suzanne," Pansy corrected her cousin. "You milk cows, not bitches."

"Next bucket, please," I called. The first one was almost brimming. "What 
time is the tanker due, Cass?"

"He's late tonight, Miss. Any time now, I suppose."

There was the roar of an engine, and a truck stopped outside with a hissing 
sigh of air brakes. The door of the Wendy house burst open and a man 
stood in the doorway. A young, hunky man with a back-to-front baseball 
cap and blue overalls. Under other circumstances, I could almost have 
fancied him.

"What the fuck ...?" The man seemed confused about something.

"We're just milking her now," I explained, perhaps inadequately. "The first 
bucket is ready. Can you pour it into your lorry from a bucket?"

"In the fuckin' dark? Climb up on me tank wiv buckets of hot milk? You've 
got to be off yer trolley, Missus."

I gathered he wasn't too keen.

"We can't do anything else. The machine won't fit her tits any more. You'll 
have to make do somehow. She's grown. That's why she sent you away this 
morning. If you go back empty tonight, you'll be in the shit, mate. So either 
you get up on top of your wagon with buckets of milk or you can start 
thinking of an excuse. Ready with that third bucket, Suzanne?"

The driver had turned purple. He came into the Wendy house and prowled 
round the table, his jaw dropping further and further as he took in the 
monstrous sight which was the Head Girl of St Catherine's High School for 
Growing Girls. 

"Fuck me!" he announced eventually. As I have said, under other 
circumstances ...

To my horror, Pansy harboured no such inhibitions.

"Pansy, what are you doing?" I shrieked. "Put your shirt back on at once. 
And your skirt ...!"

I might as well have saved my breath.

"Look after young Tanya, Suze," bleated the frantic twelve-year-old, 
shucking off her ScatBra and reaching down, trying to locate the top of her 
panties, working entirely by feel. "I've got to fuck this bloke!"

Panic-stricken, the driver retreated toward the door.

"No, keep her away," he whimpered, as I clutched at Pansy's arm. She 
wriggled furiously in a way which, under other circumstances, might have 
aroused me. As it was, I was getting a little wet, but nothing to write home 
about. Not, of course, that I write home about getting wet. Not very often, 
anyway. Mother would wonder what had come over me.

My grabbing at Pansy had given the driver a chance to get away. His voice 
came to us distantly from outside, up on top of the milk tank of his truck.

"Pass the buckets up here, and I'll tip them in," he shouted.

Frustrated, Pansy was clutching at her groin with both hands. Her nipples 
were brilliant red; terribly, throbbingly erect; her areolae puffed up like 
halved grapefruit.

"I want fucking," she whined helplessly.

"Grab those buckets, child, and take them out to the driver. Don't spill any." 
Quivering and wobbling, Pansy took the first two buckets and carried them 
outside, looking like an obscene caricature of an old-fashioned milkmaid. 
Still guiding the spurting streams of Cassie-milk into the bucket, I watched 
through the wide doorway as she handed the first bucket up to the driver, 
who pulled it up suspiciously, as if it might rape him.

Pansy was still quaking as she brought the empties back indoors. The third 
bucket was already almost full.

"I've lost gallons from my other boob, Miss," Cassandra sobbed. "I'll get into 
trouble for this. I'll be in deep shit."

"This one's nearly empty, Cass. I'll change over to your other one in a 
minute. We'll need Pan and Suze to help get it on to the table. When this 
one's empty, I can probably get it down on my own."

"Where is Pansy, Miss?"

She had disappeared.

"Find her, please, Suzanne."

I might have known where the girl would be. Even as Suzanne went out of 
the door, the moon came out and gleamed fitfully through the trees. And 
there, on the top of the shiny cylindrical tank of the milk truck, a 
deliciously beautiful and immense-breasted young girl was straddling a 
shadowy figure. Her breasts ballooned and rebounded in every direction as 
her pert bottom bounced and thrust up and down on her unfortunate 
victim.

"Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-WOW!" came a scream from above our heads. 
"Thirty-one!" An honest and truthful girl, Pansy, not one to make 
exaggerated claims.

"Uggh! Fuck me!" The driver came in a blunt and forthright working-class 
manner. He would be able to tell his mates about this, if he got out of it 
alive.

"Next bucket, please, Suzanne," I called. There was still important work to 
be done. If Pan had fucked the milk truck driver, she had fucked the milk 
truck driver. It was done now. There was no point in crying over spilt 
milk, as it were.


**********

The tanker had lurched away up the road. We sat in the Wendy house, 
looking at each other. Suzanne had finished mopping up and had put the 
towels in one of the buckets to soak. She sprawled in a chair, scowling at 
her cousin. Pansy had put her panties back on, perhaps in some mistaken 
attempt to prevent leakage. She fondled herself in various places, unable 
to obtain relief from her condition. With a sigh, she picked up young Tanya 
from the chair beside her and applied the infant to her breast. Within 
seconds, a slow smile spread over the mother's face.

Cassandra, milked almost dry, had had her share of shuddering delights, 
and watched Pansy with feelings of regret. As she reclined in her huge 
armchair, her breasts hung over the arms and lay passively on the floor at 
each side. Milked dry they may have been, but there was still not any way 
they would get out through that door.

Miss Thunderbolt had creamed Cassandra's milking machine with Grow 
Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength 
Ultra Plus, and Cassandra would never be the same girl again. The 
immature headmistress of St Catherine's High School for Girls had a lot to 
answer for.

"Why are we here, Miss?" Suzanne broke the silence at last.

"It's your fault," I told her. "You creamed those seven girls, didn't you?"

"Me? Which seven girls?"

"The seven preggers girls who went to Agrafobia. You tested the Grow 
Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength 
Ultra Plus on them. Didn't you see them on the news? They got so big, they 
couldn't get out of the plane."

"They did, Miss?" Suzanne brightened visibly. "Golly, it worked, then!"

"It worked all right. It's going to cost the taxpayer thirty million pounds, 
that's all. The world's press will be down here in force in the morning 
looking for members of the teaching staff. That's me. This is going to be a 
siege. Meanwhile, grab that tub of Shrink and get to work on Cassie. It 
takes ages to work."


**********

We tried, but Cassandra was far too large to get out of the door. We tried 
one breast at a time, but it wouldn't work. We dragged her back in again 
and sat her in her chair. It was six in the morning, and Cassandra was 
ready for milking once more. 

The tanker would be here soon. No doubt, the driver would have refused 
to visit St Cat's again, despite the embroidered version of the facts with 
which he had regaled his colleagues last night. Already, one full bucket 
awaited him, the next was half full, and Cassandra was panting heavily. 
Pansy, no doubt looking forward to a meeting with the truck driver, was 
coming in sympathy.

"Wow! Two!" shouted Cassandra and Pansy, almost simultaneously. If ever 
synchronised orgasming became an Olympic discipline, our brave girls 
would be in there going for gold.

There was the sound of a vehicle. Pansy was tearing off her panties in 
readiness. I stumbled over to the window and looked out. It wasn't the 
milk tanker.

A big green van had pulled up under the trees. It was quickly surrounded 
by Volvo estate cars, parked at carefully chosen angles to make the most 
dramatic impact. Sleepy-eyed news-gatherers were climbing out and 
stretching their limbs. Already, powerful lights were being switched on, 
aimed at the Wendy house. 

Panty-less and panting, Pansy was already out of the door in search of sex 
with the milk driver. She scampered back in, whimpering with fright.

"They took pictures of me," she protested.

"They would do, I suppose," I said. "You are an extremely pretty girl and 
rather naked."

Pansy inspected herself. "You'd think they'd never seen a naked girl 
before," she said.

"Some of them probably haven't," I said. "Not like you, anyway!"


**********

We emptied Cassandra and stood the last of the buckets at the end of the 
line by the door.

"Where's that sodding lorry got to?" I lifted a corner of the curtain and 
sneaked a glance out of the window. Instantly, I dropped the curtain with 
a squeal of alarm.

A yell and a thunderously booming crash made me spin round. Pansy and 
Suzanne were bending over something huge and mounded on the floor.

"What happened?" I demanded.

"It was your fault, Miss," said Suzanne peevishly. "You made that stupid 
squeaking noise and made us drop Cassandra's tit."

"It's okay, Miss," Pansy reassured me. "It hasn't broken, or anything."

"I'm glad you think so," Cassandra complained from the floor. "If it was 
your fucking tit, you might not be so fucking cheerful about it." Really, I 
would have to have a word with the child about her language.

"What did you scream for, anyway, you hysterical old bitch?" Suzanne was 
in danger of becoming unacceptably rude to her elders and betters.

" It wasn't my fault. I looked out of the window and there was a face a 
couple of inches away looking in at me." The girls were not being very 
understanding. The cousins helped Cassandra to her feet and aimed her 
impressively lavish bottom into her armchair.

"They're not getting any smaller, Cass," puffed Pansy. "You're miles bigger 
even than Miss Meadowlark used to be, when she had four boys each side."

That answered one question. Cassandra wasn't going to get out of the door. 
Even empty, she was still getting bigger. There was another problem. All 
the buckets were full of milk. We would need more storage capacity by 
midday. After last night's experience, the milk tanker hadn't arrived, and 
even if it did, we had no way of pouring the milk into it without opening 
the door of the Wendy house and letting in the television cameras and the 
gentlemen of the press.

"Eeeek! Look!"

It was Cassandra. She had the television remote control in her hand and 
she was pointing at the screen in the corner. "We're on the telly!"

We were. We gathered round. A reporter was standing under the dripping 
trees. Behind him, the Wendy house stood in a pool of light. Pansy crossed 
to the window and opened the curtain, bringing a cry of delight from 
Suzanne and Cassandra. 

"There you are, Pan! You're on!"

Pansy dropped the curtain and fled back to see. "Where?" 

"You disappeared as soon as we shouted," Cassandra said, sounding 
puzzled. "Something must have frightened you."

"Shut up and listen," I yelled.

The reporter was ending his piece. "... and it is clear that this Wendy house 
in the damp woodland contains the clue which leads all the way to seven 
frightened and miserable pregnant schoolgirls thousands of miles from 
home in distant Agrafobia. What, indeed, will Christmas mean to these 
poor children? Martin Marauder, BBC, at the Siege of St Cat's."

"What was all that about?" Suzanne wanted to know.

"They want to have a word with a member of the teaching staff. They must 
think Miss Thunderbolt is hidden away in here," I said. "She's gone into 
hiding. So has Miss Mountains. Probably Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen as 
well."

"And Miss Meadowlark too?" Pansy was looking at me with concern.

"God knows." I could only hope Corinne was safe, wherever she was.


**********

Darkness fell early in the woods. By two o'clock in the afternoon, it was 
already gloomy. There was nothing new on the lunchtime news bulletin, 
and when we turned out the lights for me to peer out of the window, it 
was clear that there was no sign of the crowd of reporters going away.

"There's a police car over by the main road," I reported. "The milk lorry's 
there, too. They must be holding it back, knowing that we have a lactating 
girl in here. They're trying to pressurise us into coming out."

"It might just work, too, Miss." Cassandra was painfully bloated and full, 
her breasts like blimps on each side of the armchair. Movement had 
become impossible for her.

"We'll have to pour all this morning's milk away," I decided. "It's a shame, 
but it will have gone off anyway by the time we could get it into the 
tanker. Pour it into the bath."

"I haven't got a bath, Cassandra groaned. "I'm miles too big. I've got a 
shower. You'll have to pour it away down the drain."

"It's probably against the law," I said, "but we don't have a choice. Pour it 
away, girls, then milk poor old Cassie again."

"It's all very well, Miss." Suzanne sneered. "She'll need milking again 
tonight. Are we going to tip that lot away as well? All they need to do is 
block up the drains and we'll all drown in milk in a couple of days."

The thought had occurred to me. Here we were, less than twenty-four 
hours into the siege of St Cat's, and already we were at each other's 
throats. Young Tanya woke up and decided to join in. She began to yell. 

"Have you got any better ideas?" I snapped.

Pansy came back into the room with two empty buckets. Her eyes 
suddenly gleamed. "We could take a hostage."

"Do what?" Suzanne was ready to pour scorn on her cousin.

"I'll tell you in a minute. Help me with this tit!" Pansy was scrabbling for 
grip on the nearer of Cassandra's breasts. In the end, she had to crawl 
underneath it and lift it on her back so that Suzanne and I could raise it 
into the air. With Cassandra still in her chair, her breast wouldn't reach the 
table. We lowered it painfully down again and stood there looking at her. 
"Are you lot going to take this thing off my back, or what?" complained 
Pansy from down below, somewhere.

"Sorry. Suzanne, bring me that bucket. Now, hoist it up again, Pan. There!" 

A satisfying gush of milk sprayed into the bucket. Poor Pansy was on her 
hands and knees, with Cassandra's immense breast on her back. Pansy's 
own breasts rested on the floor.

"Oh-oh," she muttered. "My milk's come in, now. Of all the times ... Suze, 
fetch young Tan and lay her down here under my boob. Lay her on her 
side. Ouch! That's fine."

Relative peace descended, broken only by young Tanya's slurping and the 
gurgling of Cassandra's milk into the second bucket.

"What's this about a hostage, Pan?" I asked.

"We can lure one of them inside and refuse to let him out until the others 
all go away. We can demand that Cassandra's milk lorry is allowed to come 
up here and take her milk away. And if they don't do as we say, we have a 
hostage we can do things to."

"Do things? We can't threaten to kill him. They'd call our bluff."

"We can't kill him," said Pansy. "Well, not straight away. But we can fuck 
him to death. He'd be begging for mercy in a day or two. There are four of 
us in here."

"Count me out," said Suzanne, "I'm a virgin."

"So am I," said Cassandra, "but it sounds interesting."

"No," I protested, "you're too young. What am I saying? You're ALL too 
young!"

"You're not having him all to yourself," Pansy stormed. "It was my idea. 
I'm having him. I'm having Suze's share, as well. And Cassie's, if she's too 
young. You can have him the rest of the time, Miss!"

"Oh, thanks!"

My irony was lost on her. "I knew you'd see my point," she said. "Now, 
which one shall we have. As soon as I get out from under here, I'm going 
to have a look. Then all we have to decide is how we're going to get him in 
here."

Perhaps I was really starting to get desperate. The idea didn't sound too 
bad at all.





Chapter 17:- The Siege Of St Cat's - Day Two


"I fancy that one," Pansy said firmly. "He's got a nice bum."

It was ridiculous. I was outside in the darkness with Pansy. We had waited 
until the live evening news report was just finishing and the big lights 
were switched off, then we slipped out while those outside the Wendy 
house were still unaccustomed to the darkness. Now we crouched together 
in the wet bushes. I was uncomfortably aware of Pansy's naked closeness. 
Thinking about it, she was probably uncomfortably aware of mine.

"Why did we have to get undressed for this, Pansy?"

"So we can lure our hostage inside as soon as we find one we want. He 
won't be able to resist the sight of a pretty girl with huge tits. You'd better 
stay out of sight, Miss."

I ignored her rudeness and disrespect. "I fancy that one over there," I said. 
I was beginning to feel the cold. One of my nipples was resting in a puddle 
and Pansy had just farted. I often wondered what these girls ate.

"Him? He's ancient. We're not having him. You'd better let me choose one, 
Miss. Trust me. I know about boys."

"We don't want a boy, we want a man. Somebody famous. Why not that 
reporter bloke?"

"Would they care if we took him?" Pansy had a good point. The reporter in 
question was notable for being a pig-ignorant pain in the arse.

"Maybe not. Keep looking."

"Hey, Miss. Look at that one there, what about that one. I want him."

I looked where she was pointing. He was a beautiful young man with 
blonde streaks in his hair. He looked like Barbie's boyfriend, complete with 
realistic hair and gripping hands. He was manhandling a camera tripod into 
the back of a van. He was absolutely lovely.

"Go on, then. He'll do," I said, as casually as I could. "How are we going to 
get him inside?"

Pansy wasn't there. As I watched the beautiful young man working on the 
edge of the group of vehicles, she appeared suddenly at his elbow, seemed 
to say something to him, and yanked him out of sight into the 
undergrowth. Within seconds, she appeared by my side, alone.

"Quick, Miss. I knew Rumiko's martial arts training would come in handy 
one day. Come and help me drag him into the Wendy house."

Helplessly, I followed her creamy, naked figure as she undulated between 
the trees. The beautiful young man lay prone in the bushes.

"You've killed him. He's dead!"

"Miss! Give me hand." We took an arm each and dragged him between us 
to the back of the Wendy house. He weighed nothing. God, but he was 
beautiful. Pansy was knocking on the door, a secret knock. Three knocks, 
then two, then four, then three again.

"Who is it?" Suzanne hissed from inside the door.

"Open the fucking door, we've got one," Pansy snarled.

The door opened and we blundered in with our lovely burden.

"Christ," Pansy purred. "He's even better than I thought!" Her fingers 
trembled as she started to tear his clothes off.

I stopped her. "Not yet, Pan! We've got to let them know we've taken a 
captive. Then we can make our demands. Then if they don't go away and 
send in the milk lorry, we can fuck him."

"You've got to be joking, Miss! If you think I'm going to sit here and look at 
this hunk all night while they decide what they're going to do about it, 
you've got another think coming. I'm having him now." She tugged his 
jeans down his narrow hips and liberated him. He needed quite a bit of 
liberating, despite his flaccid condition. After all, he was unconscious. "You 
can have him after me," Pansy conceded, crouching lewdly above the 
beautiful young man's body and reaching for his floppy manhood. With 
swift, expert movements, she probed around beneath her bottom, then a 
seraphic smile spread over her lovely face.

"Just think, Miss. A year ago, I used to think you had to sit on their faces!" 
As she spoke, she lowered herself fully on to his belly. For some reason, 
she was facing toward his feet.

Unsurprisingly, the beautiful young man woke up. He opened his eyes, 
looked around briefly, then closed them again in contentment. A second 
later, he opened them again wide and sat up, resting on his elbows.

"What the fuck?"

I hoped he wasn't going to be a coarse young man. Such language was 
really not the right sort of thing for the sensitive ears of young girls.


**********

I suppose if you are a beautiful young man doing your job out in the 
woods and you are accosted by a stark naked girl with staggeringly huge 
boobs, you tend to follow her when she invites you into the bushes.

And when she hits you with the edge of a hand as hard as a wooden plank, 
you naturally tend to become unconscious.

When you wake up, in a Wendy house, with the same beautiful girl 
already mounted on your rapidly stiffening cock, and you can see, even 
from behind her, that she has a bigger pair of tits than any girl you have 
ever seen in your natural life, your instinct is to lie back and enjoy it. 
When rape is inevitable - in fact, when it is already in progress - after all, 
what else is there to do?

Then a few seconds later, you realise that this is all a wonderful dream, 
and you wake up. That's when you discover that you and the girl are not 
alone. The other occupants of the Wendy house are three other scantily 
dressed young ladies, with improbably vast bosoms, and oddly enough, a 
baby, yelling its head off.

You are surrounded by buckets of milk.

The staggeringly beautiful and immense-breasted young girl riding your 
manhood is good, very good indeed. Like the River Weser, she is deep and 
wide, and every bit as wet.

You could be forgiven for wondering what the fuck.


**********

"Where am I?" 

People really do say that when they wake up. Our young man was 
intelligent as well as beautiful. He did not ask what was happening to him. 
He could see that, and undoubtedly he could feel it too. Resting on his 
elbows and wincing on every one of Pansy's exuberant down-strokes, he 
elected to wait until his lover had finished. It took a little longer than he 
expected, perhaps, and as it happened, he finished several tense seconds 
before her.

"Woo-woo-woo-WOW!" squealed Pansy. "ONE!"

"Was that your first today?" asked Suzanne, her eyes narrowed 
suspiciously.

"Course it was. You've been with me all day."

"I can't believe you've got through to ten o' clock at night without coming 
until now."

"I can't see why not." Pansy sat back on her haunches, crushing the 
beautiful young man's balls. I felt it was time to intervene.

"If you've finished, Pansy, would you mind getting off him. You can do 
harm to a man like that. Anyway, it's my turn."

Pansy raised herself a few inches and took a look. "He's a bit soft, Miss. Do 
you want him revived first? I can get him up for you."

"I am quite capable of getting him up, Pansy," I retorted stiffly.

"Suit yourself! I was only trying to save you the trouble." Pansy stood up 
with a squelch and the young man screamed. She wandered over to 
Suzanne and continued their argument. 

"What's your name?" I whispered in the young man's ear.

He looked at me in horror. "Petroc, why?"

One could understand his being defensive, I suppose.

"That's a nice name," I managed to say at last. "Mine's Shan. Chauntaille, 
actually."

He sat up with a strangled cry. "Haven't I read about you somewhere?"

"I don't think so. Lie still, while I mount you. Which way would you like 
me, facing you or the back view, the way Pansy did it?"

"Neither. I want to go home."

"Lie still." I held him down using one hand and one of my breasts. I kept 
the other one in reserve. "I'll do it this way, so I can look at you. You are 
beautiful, you know."

Petroc blushed prettily. He slid into me without touching the sides, and 
began to groan rhythmically as I started my measured thrusting.

"Excuse me, Miss!"

"What is it, Cassandra?" I called over my shoulder.

"Sorry to interrupt, Miss, but will you be long?"

"How do I know how long I'll be? Sex is a game of glorious uncertainties."

"I thought that was cricket, Miss. Only, if you're going to be just a few 
minutes, I can wait. But if it was going to be like ten minutes, or a quarter 
of an hour ..." I slowed my striking rate, losing concentration "... if it was 
going to be that long, or longer, like twenty minutes or even half an hour, 
it might be too late."

"Too late?"

"I'm growing again, Miss!"

I whirled round, bringing a strangled cry from Petroc. For a moment I 
thought I might have unscrewed something, then I realised that I had only 
whacked him around the side of the head with one of my breasts. 

"I just checked. It's not just the milk, Miss. They're definitely bigger. I 
know, 'cause half an hour ago they just rested on the floor. Now, they hang 
down further."

"Further than the floor?" Then I saw what she meant. Her breasts now 
flattened themselves against the floor, instead of resting lightly against it. 
This was serious. Even if the besieging forces withdrew and went away, we 
would need to completely dismantle the Wendy house to get Cassandra 
out. I withdrew from Petroc, who was unconscious again. Or dead.

"Pansy. We need to contact them. Bring me a pen and paper, so we can 
write down our demands."


**********

That's the trouble with Shrink, it makes girls grow. Not permanently, but 
permanently enough to make you think, 'Oh, Shit!'

I looked at Cassandra and thought, 'Oh Shit!'

"You're sure this stuff's going to work, Suzanne?" I asked.

Suzanne shrugged off-handedly. She was such a rude little girl, I was 
discovering.

I tried Pansy. "Any reply to our demands, yet?"

She shook her head glumly. It had been Pansy's idea last night to send our 
demands by flashing the lights on and off in Morse code. It was a brilliant 
plan, except that none of us knew the code. Only after Cassandra had 
remembered an old diary of hers in her dressing table drawer did we get 
round to sending our message. 

We were side-tracked a bit at first, reading Cassandra's most intimate 
secrets. It took half an hour or more. Sending the message took three hours 
after that. We weren't even certain that anyone could read the thing until 
we'd finished transmitting.

Then there was a burst of headlight flashing from outside, which must 
have meant something. Only after it had been repeated three more times 
did we work out that it said, "Please say again". At least, by the time we 
sent the whole message again, we were getting good at it, and it took no 
more than an hour and a half. There was a reply.

"What's 'roger' mean?" Pansy had said, after studying the diary again. 
"There's nobody called Roger in here. His name's not Roger."

"I've heard it on the movies," I had told her. "It means, 'message received 
and understood', or OK."

"Why not say OK, then?"

"Fuck knows!" My language was getting as industrial as that of the girls.

We sat and stared out at the dawn breaking through the cracks in the 
curtains. 

"I'm getting full of milk again," said Cassandra dully.

"I don't know how you can tell, with them dangling on the floor like that," I 
said rudely.

"I can tell all right."

"What's that?" Suzanne was staring at the door. "There's somebody outside, 
listen."

We listened. There was a scrabbling noise. Finally, a piece of paper 
appeared under the door. I crept over and picked it up.

"There's something written on it," I said.

"How very reassuring," Suzanne said with an unpleasant sneer. "Read the 
fucking thing out, Miss!"

Dreadful child.

"'Hello,'" it read. "'Sorry for not being able to read your message first time - 
we had to find a radio engineer who could understand Morse code. We 
understand your demands, or most of them. We will pack up and leave you 
alone after the breakfast news broadcast. The milk lorry will be allowed to 
drive up to your door and the driver will be allowed to pour your milk into 
the tank without interference.'"

"How nice of them," I said. "They're letting us have everything we asked 
for."

"So far," Suzanne grumbled.

I read on. "'We understand that your hostage, Mr Penhaligon, is still in 
good health.' Is that his name? Is he still out cold?"

"Yeah," Pansy confirmed. "I woke him up and had him again during the 
night. Twice. I think he's just pretending to be asleep in case you sit on 
him again, Miss. You are shamefully fat, after all."

"Thanks, Pansy."

"He likes me, I think." Pansy's eyes had gone all misty. "He got hard as soon 
as I put my tongue in his ear at four o' clock this morning."

I supposed he would, yes. "What's this bit mean? 'We note from your 
request that you have need of a curse.' What do they mean by that? We 
didn't ask for a curse."

"Nurse, Miss. I was getting wrist-ache flicking that light switch on and off. 
I must have sent the 'n' twice. What do we want a nurse for, anyway?"

"We'll need somebody strong to help us get Cassandra out of here. Nurse is 
a big strong woman. I thought they'd be sure to let us have medical help if 
we asked for it."

"You're so clever, Miss," said Pansy.

"Oh, you're SO clever, Miss," Suzanne echoed in a sing-song voice. "'We have 
need of a curse.' They'll either send us an old gypsy-woman or a year's 
supply of tampons."

"I hope not," Pansy furrowed her pretty brow. "A year's supply would fill 
this room. I use them four at a time, and Miss Gruntworthy must need a 
dozen to fill her up ..."

Disgusting child. "Pansy, please! Anyway, you don't need any. You're 
preggers again."

"I was being hypothetical,"said Pansy haughtily. She made her way as 
casually as she could toward the bed in the corner where Petroc lay, still 
lifeless. He came to life when she whispered in his ear. "Oooh, look! He's 
woken up again. Hello, Petroc, darling." She mounted him daintily. I had to 
look away. The girl was insatiable.

"Time for the news," I said desperately. "Put it on, Cass."

The television flickered into life. Just like in a B-movie, as soon as anyone 
switches on, the news comes up immediately with the item they want to 
see. Our reporter appeared, with the floodlit Wendy house behind him. He 
looked a bit haggard, as if he hadn't slept. I began to wonder if Pansy had 
been outside, servicing him. And the rest of the crew.

"... a quiet night at St Cat's, during which a coded message was passed by 
the besieged, asking for the milk tanker to visit the Wendy house. At least 
two of the girls being held captive by the frantic school teacher are 
believed to be lactating. One of them is believed to have had her child 
removed to enable her to produce vast quanitites of milk for commercial 
purposes ..."

"It's all lies! Who told them all that?"

"... the teacher is believed to be a Miss Chauntaille Gruntworthy, 23, of 
Fillamore Deepleigh."

A shot of my parents' house appeared on the screen, followed by pictures 
of the village green, shot in happier times. I recognised some of the young 
couples copulating on the park bench and the swings in the children's 
playground.

"Don't cry, Miss!" It was Suzanne, to my surprise, wiping up my tears with 
a length of paper towel. "We'll get out of here. And we'll all come and visit 
you in jail."

"... and meanwhile, in the beleaguered Agrafobia Airlines plane, the news 
is that the breasts of the seven pregnant schoolgirls are still increasing in 
size, although mercifully more slowly than previously. Our next bulletin 
will come from the main road, several hundred yards from here, as we 
withdraw to comply with the demands of this crazed and desperately 
dangerous teacher. Our thoughts and prayers go with these brave, brave 
girls. Martin Marauder, BBC, at the Siege of St Cat's, Day Two."


**********

The cars and the television van started up and drove away up the road, 
almost out of sight. At the same time, the milk tanker came rocking down 
the road toward us, and stopped just outside.

"Be careful," I warned Suzanne, "it might be a trap."

Pansy was looking worried. Her energetic bucking and pussy-farting 
became more frantic than ever. She was in danger of being caught in the 
middle of shagging Petroc for the third time in half an hour while the milk 
driver was outside, going to waste. Her efforts were rewarded as she came 
thunderously, dismounted immediately, murmuring "seven" in passing, 
and pressed her face to the window.

"It's a different driver," she announced. "A fucking woman!"

Hmmm. Could be worse, I thought.

"First three buckets are ready, Pan." Suzanne placed another bucket under 
Cassandra's jetting breast and mopped her brow with what appeared to be 
a pair of discarded panties. "You'd better get them outside and emptied."

"I'm too tired and wet," Pansy complained miserably. I finished too 
quickly. I could have had another ten minutes and finished Pet off, too."

"Oh, it's Pet, now, is it? You seem to have finished him off anyway. Look at 
the poor sod."

We all looked at the poor sod. Since Pansy had kidnapped him, he had 
been unconscious for ninety per cent of the time. He was a sickly young 
man. When our curse arrived, she was going to have to spend half her time 
reviving him instead of helping us get Cassandra out of here. 

There was a pounding on the door.

"Get this fuckin' milk out here, you lot!"

The milk driver had a deep hairy voice. Not my kind of girl at all. It 
galvanised Pansy, who grabbed a couple of buckets and bolted outside. She 
was back in a few minutes for more.

"See you lot later," grunted the driver from the doorway, with a quick 
glance round the inside of the Wendy house. She would have seen the 
giantess Cassandra, now nursing little Tanya with the last couple of gallons 
left in each of her mammoth breasts. There was Pansy, thinking of 
finishing off her Petroc again. There was Suzanne, mopping up spilt milk. 
And there was the frenzied and desperate school teacher, Miss Chauntaille 
Gruntworthy. I stared at the driver, who had a dark moustache. I 
wondered if she liked big tits. There must have been a total of nearly fifty 
feet of bust in the little Wendy house, not counting any that Petroc might 
have had.

Away went the milk tanker, much heavier now. Another vehicle was 
creeping slowly and carefully toward us through the woods.

"Look, girls!" I shouted. "They listened to our message. It's the school 
minibus!"





Chapter 18:- All Over


The little bus stopped just outside. One of the most recent innovations had 
been to darken the windows of the minibus to prevent passers-by looking 
inside and seeing our girls. It would also tend to discourage mooning by 
the passengers if they knew that they would be invisible while doing it.

The bus sat there, rocking gently as the occupants moved around. I 
imagined all sorts of things. Would the police burst out of the van, sub-
machine guns blazing? Would the bus be full of soldiers? The SAS, perhaps. 
That ought to keep young Pansy quiet for an hour or two, at least.

The door slid tentatively open a few inches, then stopped.

"Get back inside," I told the girls, who had crowded close to the door. All 
apart from Cassandra, that is, she was still wedged in her armchair. Pansy 
and Suzanne backed away, their gaze still fixed on the door of the minibus. 

I suppose one of ought to have been keeping an eye on Petroc. Ideally, 
Pansy ought have been sitting on his cock again, but even Pansy has to 
restore her fluid levels now and again. The sliding door slid open a few 
more inches, then a hand seized it from inside, and flung it wide.

I don't know what I expected to see. The nurse? Moggie, perhaps? There 
seemed to be a lot of people milling around near the door of the bus, but 
suddenly, order was restored, and the melee sorted itself into individual 
bodies, descending the three steps to the ground. It was a group of boys. 
Two boys struggled down the steps together, their backs to me, as if they 
were coming out of Noah's Ark. They were carrying something heavy. The 
specially constructed sliding door was wide enough for two boys at a time, 
but there was barely enough room for them to carry anything with them.

Two more boys came into view, backing down the steps, then two more, 
then two more, then two more. Two more boys followed them. No wonder 
the bus was crowded, with twelve healthy teenage lads in there. They 
formed a loose scrummage outside the bus door. Then, as if the boys were 
just a warm-up for the big act, the top of the bill, there was a kind of hush. 
And in the darkness of the bus interior, a face appeared, looking anxiously 
out. Our eyes met, and I melted.

Corinne came down the steps like the Queen of Sheba. Only when she was 
safely on the ground did the boys form up into their familiar formation: 
four to each breast. No! SIX!

Six boys to each mighty breast. 

Cee?

She met my eyes again and nodded to me, joy on her face.

They moved closer to the doorway of the Wendy house, then the two ranks 
of boys separated, carrying her breasts out to each side, and allowing her 
to approach right up to the doorstep. To each side, her breasts seemed to 
stretch out as far as the eye could see. Her face was inches from mine.

"Cee!"

"Hello, you!"

"Hello!"

"Your hair looks nice!"

I fluffed it up. "I look a mess."

"Nurse wanted to come, but I persuaded her to let me. I was hiding in Clit's 
factory all this time."

"You've grown a bit, Cee!"

"A bit, yes. You like them?"

"They're tremendous."

Corinne blushed prettily. "I had a bit of an accident with some Grow Cream 
Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra 
Plus." She laughed a little shakily. "It's quite strong stuff, isn't it!"

"Yes. You only need enough to cover your moons. You've got lovely moons, 
Cee!"

Corinne blushed prettily. "Thanks!"

"Probably the biggest in the world."

"Probably." 

"I'd invite you in, only you'd never get through the door ..."

"That's all right. We thought of that. Team! DOWN!"

The boys lowered Corinne's breasts to the ground, where they lay, rippling 
slightly with her breathing. Quickly, the whole team clambered back into 
the bus, emerging with a variety of woodworking tools. They disappeared 
round the back of the Wendy house, chattering among themselves. I heard 
them at work on the back wall.

"Who drove the bus?" I asked, making polite conversation.

"I did!" Corinne giggled. "That's why we were going so slowly. They had my 
boobs stretched back over my shoulders. It was like blinkers on a horse. I 
couldn't see much through the space between them, even with two of the 
lads holding them apart. We went over a bump once, and my tits just 
flopped together in front of my face. We'd nearly gone into a tree before 
they pulled them apart again. Still, with practice, I might be able to pass 
my driving test like that. Then we could go out together in the van!"

"You and me, Cee?"

"You and me, Shannie!"

Her lips were as full and soft as I remembered. It had been a long, long 
time. A week? More? Our tongues met.

"You're bigger yourself, Shan."

I blushed prettily. I could have stayed there kissing her on the doorstep 
for ever. Until the cows came home.

"My milk's coming in again, Miss!" It was Cassandra again, from inside the 
Wendy house.

"Ten minutes, Cassie, love. Then we'll all be free."


**********

The boys must have been studying the plans of the Wendy house. In 
minutes, they were lifting off the entire back of the house and laying it on 
the ground. Cassandra looked a little unhappy.

"What are they doing to my house, Miss?"

"They'll build you a new one, Cassie, darling. Or one with bigger doors. Can 
you stand up? Let the boys help you."

Corinne's breast carriers were only too happy to help. Never mind that 
Cassandra was no age at all, nor that she was intimidatingly large, she was 
a warm, breathing girl, and quite attractive in an Amazonian kind of way. 
They approached her, and melted visibly when she flashed them a big 
friendly smile.

"Hi, boys!"

"Hello, Cassandra," they chorused.

"You can call me Cassie."

"Hello, Cassie." 

Three of them took a monster breast each. If there was one thing these 
boys knew about, it was the heavy breast haulage business. They got them 
up on to their shoulders and stood up carefully. Cassandra disengaged her 
big bottom from the armchair and rose to a standing position. She 
concentrated hard, plucking her underwear from the crack of her bum.

"Oooh, that feels nice," she sighed, when one of the spare boys helped her, 
smoothing out her panties and patting her huge bottom in a friendly 
manner. She looked over her shoulder to recognise her helper, blowing him 
a little kiss. "I'll see you later," she promised him. The boy didn't seem too 
displeased at the prospect. The rest of the breast team joined in, five boys 
to each colossal boob, and they trundled Cassandra out of the house, then 
round in a great circle so she was facing toward us.

The gigantic size of her was more evident now we could see her out in the 
open. Over six feet tall and large-boned, she was built like an Olympic 
weight-lifter, but no weight-lifter ever had breasts like these. Even she 
couldn't have lifted them without those boys to help her. If she stood 
upright, they would have dragged along the ground. Each one was about 
five feet across. They looked heavy, as if they were made of solid girl. A 
chill breeze had sprung up from somewhere, and Cassandra's nipples 
slowly extended themselves like children's toy telescopes. They were 
extremely rude looking nipples.

Cassandra gave an excited little wave.

"This is fun, Miss! Why didn't I ever try it before?"

"Put her in the van, team," Corinne called to them, then one of you can try 
and drive over to the school. Give her a good hot shower and set up a bed 
for her in the assembly hall. Can any of you drive the bus, do you think?"

"Please, Miss, I'll have a go!" Suzanne volunteered. "I've watched bus 
drivers before. Let me try. Please!" She pouted sexily at me, the way she 
did whenever she really wanted something. I wondered what she really 
wanted. Probably just to get closer to the boys, if she was bored.

Meanwhile, the boys had to get Cassandra into the mini-bus. It wasn't 
easy, and by the time they had achieved it, there had been so much 
intimate contact between the boys and Cassandra's giant breasts, not to 
mention various other parts of her, that all of them were positively 
frothing with undisguised lust.

"God, look at them," I said to Corinne. "I know she's no age at all, but if she 
doesn't get laid in a minute, she's going to explode!"

"Do you think she will?" Corinne tried to edge away nervously, but her 
breasts were immovable.

"Probably not. No girl has ever exploded at St Cat's, before. It might be an 
idea if they did shag her. She's got to learn sometime."

"So have they," said Corinne. 

"They've never ...?"

"Not with a girl as big as Cassandra. Not with a real woman, a woman with 
real, huge, vast breasts. Just with little Third Formers and things."

"Not with you, then?"

"With me? Shan! How could you even suggest ...?"

"I don't know. Just something I thought you said once." I could have bitten 
out my tongue.

"Boys!" Corinne called out through the door of the mini-bus. "While 
Suzanne is driving you over to the school, give Cassandra a good seeing-to. 
Only one of you. Do it just as if she's an ordinary girl, the way I showed 
you. Who's going to do it?"

"Dominic, Miss. Cassie's already chosen him."

"Good boy, Dominic. Go for it. Remember, it's supposed to be fun."

"Yes, Miss." 

Dominic's frightened little face appeared at the door of the bus. "I'll try to 
enjoy it, Miss," he gasped, before Cassandra whisked him away out of sight. 
I cursed the blacked-out windows of the bus. The sight of Dominic getting 
heartily serviced by the mammoth-breasted Cassandra would have been 
one worth seeing.

Suzanne climbed aboard and the engine started shortly afterwards. With 
surprising smoothness, the bus moved off and threaded between the trees, 
then accelerated briskly away toward the school.

"I hope she knows how to stop it," I said.

"I only hope they remember to send the rest of my lads over. I'm sinking 
in the mud down here. And there's a bird sitting on my left tit."


**********

We were more or less obliged to watch Pansy screw Petroc twice more 
while we waited for Corinne's breast carriers. They brought Anastasia over 
with them, a big, jolly crowd of them, giggling and larking around.

"I thought you said none of your boys had ever had a real big woman," I 
reminded Corinne with a nudge.

"You mean Anastasia? She's huge, all right, but you have to admit, she's 
nowhere near Cassandra's size, is she?"

"No. Nor yours, either, Cee!"

"I'm glad you see my point. Perhaps you'll accept that there are only two 
really big women at St Cat's. The Head Girl and the Support and Mobility 
Mistress."

"Yes, Cee. I'm sorry, Cee. I love you, Cee!"

"I know, love."

"One day, when this is all over ..."

"I think it is all over, darling. There was a news flash. The SAS broke into 
that airliner and freed the girls. They had to blow the plane to 
smithereens, apparently. Well, they didn't have to, but it's what they do 
best. Anyway, the girls denied that St Cat's had made them pregnant 
deliberately. They said they were on a Nature Study trip, and St Cat's was 
the best school in the world. They said there had never been a teacher like 
their Miss Gruntworthy. You are the best teacher in the whole wide world! 
They're coming home. Toots has had a word with Louie Louie. She is 
arranging everything."

"So everything will be the way it was before? You and me ...?"

"Shannie, darling, I can't move back into your room, you know that."

Gulp. "Oh."

"I spoke to Moggie on the phone. She was saying she was thinking of giving 
all the 150-inch plus girls their own rooms. I thought our old room would 
be nice for Anastasia. She could keep her boys in one half and sleep in the 
other half herself."

"But, you mean ...?"

"Yes. My new room is lovely and big. I've got a ginormous bed in there and 
there's still plenty of room for your wardrobe and stuff. You could move in 
tonight."

"Tonight! Cee!" I could feel the juices trickling down my calves and flowing 
into my shoes. Corinne glanced down at my legs and giggled happily.

"Tonight. You'll have to make certain promises, of course."

"Oh, Cee. I promise. I'll be a good girl!"

"You had better not be, Shannie!"





Part VII





Chapter 19:- Epilogue - I


We strolled in the quadrangle, where the fountain sparkled in the sunlight, 
the crystal waters tinkling and splashing, while golden carp darted busily 
in the clear depths. Girls sat on the low wall round the fountain, scribbling 
eagerly in their project work books, or fellating their pencils while asking 
each other questions in preparation for forthcoming tests. Many were 
breast feeding their babies. They looked up at us respectfully as we 
passed, crossing and uncrossing their legs and exposing as much of their 
creamy inner thighs as they could. Panties came into view, always an 
encouraging sight, I think. I could feel my nipples hardening.

I was wearing my newest ScatBraE. Already, I had noticed that very 
morning, my readout card was providing visible evidence of my new 
shapeliness. In only the past week, I had lost four more inches from my 
waist, and while my hips and thighs were still best described as 'full', they 
were no longer as shamefully huge as before. And my bust was still 
growing! With a thrill of deepest joy, I adjusted the edge of my wooly 
cardigan to hide my readout card from casual view. Even though its 
message was one of unalloyed good news, there are some things a girl likes 
to keep to herself.

Corinne, too, had regained a little of her former trimness. She still needed 
five boys to each breast, but two more tagged along to help her around 
corners. Eight more boys followed us at a distance, watched furtively by 
the girls on the fountain wall. Those who were feeding allowed more flesh 
to show. Big wet nipples were encouraged to plop accidentally out of 
babies' mouths.

Past the fountain we promenaded, and finally came to a halt in front of a 
group of twenty scantily-clad girls formed up in four rows of five girls 
each. Rumiko stood facing them; haranguing them sternly, emphasising her 
points with chopping motions of her hand.

"Do you think this PE will catch on with the girls, Cee? A healthy mind in a 
healthy body?"

"I got a shock when Moggie suggested it last week. But this lot seem to be 
keen enough. Third Formers, aren't they?"

"Yes. One or two slightly pregnant ones amongst them. A couple of near-
virgins, too."

Rumiko ended her instructions with a mighty chop and a hoarse cry. The 
girls echoed it in a ragged chorus. 

"Hai!"

Then they all straightened and stood to attention, perfectly still, their 
voluptuous curves lush and creamy in the sunlight. I was moved to 
moistness by the delicious sight. Rumiko turned to face us. She looked 
businesslike and dangerous as she adjusted the fit of her voluminous white 
gi, tucking herself in and giving a final tug to her black belt.

"Ah, Miss Gruntworthy, Miss Meadowrark. PE crass ready for your 
inspecto."

"Thank you, Rumiko," I said, recovering. "How nice. Thank you."

"You inspecto, Miss. Inspect girru! Miss Meadowrark, too."

"We have to inspect them, Cee. What do we do?"

"You walk up and down between them. You'll have to do it. There's no 
room for me to get between them with these things and my boys. Go on, 
Shan, inspecto them, I'll stay here and watcho." I gave her little hand a 
squeeze, and felt her fingernails brush across my damp palm.

The boys had every intention of watcho-ing. Once Corinne had given the 
order for them to lower her breasts to the ground, the boys sat down in a 
row and stared at the girls with frank appraisal. From time to time one of 
the boys would point out a particularly fine example of girlhood to his 
colleagues, who would snicker knowingly.

The girls were affected, too. Healthy minds they may have had, but their 
bodies were decidedly healthier. As I walked slowly across the front rank 
of the girls with Rumiko following respectfully in my wake, I was 
increasingly aware of the scent of their arousal, all twenty of them.

"You touch them, Miss!"

"What?"

"Touch the girru, Miss, see if they satisfactory."

"I'm sure they're just lovely, Rumiko, honestly."

"You touch, Miss!" It was an order. 

I touched the nearest girl on top of her head. She giggled girlishly.

Rumiko sighed heavily. "No, Miss. Touch nipparu. Touch bottom. Touch 
front bottom."

The girl looked at me expectantly. I touched her nipple, the nearer one. It 
hardened into a point. The girl looked assymetrical, so I touched the other 
one as well.

Perhaps I ought by now to have explained how the girls were dressed. It 
will help you to visualise the scene. If you are in America, it will help you 
envision it. It amounts to the same thing.

In days gone by, British schoolgirls wore a special garment for physical 
education. Called a gymslip, it was a one-piece pleated skirt-cum-halter-
top outfit, normally worn over a white blouse and navy blue tights. It had 
become the defining symbol of schoolgirlhood, worn - with the tights 
replaced by stockings and suspenders - at fancy dress parties across the 
country from coast to coast.

The girls were not wearing gymslips. They weren't even wearing T-shirts. 
Pure white, virginal ones. No. They were wearing abbreviated little tops 
with shoulder straps, like men's singlets. Perhaps they were men's singlets. 
For all I knew, they were. Whatever they were, they were not really 
designed for holding young women's breasts.

There was something else they were not wearing.

"They're not wearing their bras, Rumiko," I said sternly.

"No, Miss. Miss Thunderbolt orders, no bra! PE girru wear no bra. Girru 
must bounce!"

"I see." I saw. Fortunately, the girls' men's singlets were tucked in at the 
waist, or some of the larger breasts might have come tumbling out into the 
fresh winter air. The girls' men's singlets were tucked into the waist of the 
skimpiest little navy blue shorts you ever saw. Their legs were bare, apart 
from tiny white ankle socks and training shoes.

Despite myself, I reached out and cupped the girl's breast, raising it 
several inches and lowering it again. It was a notably heavy breast, and it 
wobbled dangerously inside her singlet. Her other breast wobbled in 
sympathy. That one was heavy, too, I could tell. There was enough 
cleavage between them to lose my hand inside.

"Now you touch bottom, Miss. You hurry! Take hand out of creavage, Miss. 
Twenny girru to inspecto, this onry firs' girru."

I saw her point. At this rate, I would still be inspecto-ing the girls in two 
hours' time. I touched the girl on her taut bottom. She gave a little sigh. I 
touched her front bottom, too, and she sighed more loudly.

"Very good, Penelope!" I remembered the girl's name just in time.

"Thank you, Miss." Penelope's voice was husky and dreamy, her eyes 
heavy-lidded, her lips slack and moist. She was gazing, not at me, I 
realised with relief, but at Corinne's boys. This was a girl about to lie down 
and spread her lovely legs. Wide.

"Next girru, Miss."

We moved on down the line and went through the same ritual with the 
second girl, and the third. My fingers were becoming slick with their juices. 
Moaning was breaking out. Beads of sweat gathered on the girls' brows, 
and elsewhere, too, I imagined. Somehow, we finished our inspection and 
returned to the front of the class.

"Carry on, Rumiko." I was tempted to salute. "Excellent turnout. A fine 
body of young women. You are looking very fit yourself, Rumiko."

Rumiko placed her hands together and gave a little bow, blushing prettily. 
Then she turned away, faced the class and barked an order. I backed away 
hastily and stood next to Corinne, wondering what was going to happen 
next.

The girls began fluttering their fingertips and their eyelashes, passing their 
hands across their faces while never taking their eyes off the boys. With 
mincing little steps, they advanced and retreated, their hips twitching from 
side to side hypnotically, their breasts jiggling fully independently; their 
nipples pointing in sundry directions, depending on each girl's particular 
shape.

Watching, the boys were visibly moved.

"We've got to get the boys away, Cee. They'll rape the lot of them in a 
minute."

"Who will be raping whom?"

"Does it matter?"

"I suppose not. Boys! Team! Up!"

Not the wisest choice of word, Corinne, I thought, but I suppose, on 
reflection,  she had no choice. 'Up' was the word they had been trained to 
recognise. On the command 'Up', they would leap into formation and raise 
Corinne's breasts into the carrying position, ready for the command to 
move.

Not this time. 'Up' evidently had an entirely different meaning for them. 
They were all dressed in their usual Autumn Term uniform of sweatshirts, 
baseball caps - worn with the peak facing the front - and day-glo lycra 
posing pouches. This information is not entirely gratuitous, it is essential to 
allow you to visualise or envision what happened next.

The boys stood up, slowly, as if in a dream. They quickly shuffled around 
in apparent confusion, eventually forming into a long line; all twenty of 
them facing toward the PE class, who watched them, rapt, silent and 
frothing gently. With remarkable syncronism, the boys reached into their 
posing pouches and withdrew their boyhoods. Twenty minutes spent 
admiring twenty healthy steaming skimpily-dressed girls who were all 
patently hot to trot had produced the inevitable effect. Every one of those 
boys was wonderfully erect. They throbbed gently.

Helplessly, I ran my eye along the line, noting the subtle variation in size 
and angle of elevation. And then I noticed a strange and wonderful thing. 
The apparently aimless shuffling into position was not aimless or random 
at all. The boys had arranged themselves in order, the tallest at the ends, 
the shortest in the middle of the line. At the same time, the longest and 
thickest were on the left, the Wee-Willy-Winkies on the right. Each girl 
could make her choice according to her personal requirements. There was 
something here for everyone. I only wished there had been something 
here for me.

For perhaps the first time in my life, I was able to observe the difference 
in throb rate with size of equipment. Probably it was the first time I had 
seen as many naked and unashamed boys together in the same place. The 
larger and heavier was each boy's dong, the slower it pulsed. Smaller dorks 
twitched more rapidly. Pull yourself together, Chauntaille, you're twenty-
three years old. 

"Cee! We have to get them away."

"Oh, yeah? Perhaps you could suggest how?"

"Come away over here and call them, they will follow."

"How can I move over there? I need them to carry these things."

"Try. Let me help carry one." I bent down and grabbed at a nipple with 
both hands.

"Shan, ouch! Put me down, you'll never move it on your own."

"It moved, then. It just needs a bit of a pull to get it moving, then I can 
drag it along the ground."

"It's my tit you're talking about, not a sack of spuds. Ow. Woo-woo-woo!"

"Don't start having an orgasm now, Corinne, this is serious. Anyway, I could 
drag a sack of spuds. This thing is miles heavier." It wouldn't move. I let go 
and the breast settled itself, preparing for a long stay.

"Boys, come ON!" Corinne yelled at them like a fishwife.

It was a waste of breath. The boys and girls were less than five yards 
apart now, the girls still weaving sinuously, their hands alternately 
covering and revealing their faces. Their nipples, I observed, were like 
forty chapel hatpegs. It was December, but even so ...

"Rumiko! Stop them!" Corinne bellowed.

Rumiko inclined her head but remained passive, watching the distance 
between the girls and the boys slowly diminishing. "They fuck soon, Miss," 
she predicted. I had to admit, she was probably right.

By one of those wonders of nature, each girl had selected her own mate. 
There was going to be no unseemly squabbling over the most dishy boy, 
the nicest bottom, the biggest willy. Nature had found a way of satisfying 
the whole PE class. Nature was going to start satisfying them in about 
twenty seconds' time.

"It's no use, Cee. We might as well just sit and watch. It could be quite 
interesting," I added hopefully.

"I'm not watching," Corinne shouted. "Either those boys come and take me 
away, or I am finished with them."

The two steaming groups of teenagers were now touching each other. They 
weren't using their hands yet, but parts of them were touching each other. 
A great moan went up from forty throats.

"That's it. Get me out of here, Shan!"

"What do you think I've been trying to do?" I grabbed her nipple again, 
but she started going 'woo-woo-woo,' so I put it down reluctantly. "I'll go 
and get help. Close your eyes, don't watch them."

We could hear them, which was bad enough. A chorus of woo-woo-woo-ing 
was already breaking out, punctuated by gutteral cries of boys in the very 
throes of ejaculation. So soon? What a waste!

I set off across the now almost deserted quadrangle. The girls on the 
fountain had gone indoors to their next class. Apart from the orgy taking 
place at one end, and the statue-like figures of Corinne and Rumiko, the 
place was like the Marie Celeste. Desperately, I stared round. Where was 
the Sixth Cavalry when you really needed it?

There was a sudden jingling, like sleigh-bells. I plugged a finger in my ear 
and wiggled it about. The sound was even clearer. I was on the verge of 
going down to see Nurse when the tinkling noise suddenly got louder, and 
round the corner of the laboratory building, in a tearing hurry, came 
Anastasia, accompanied by four boys.

"Whoa!" The boys squealed to a halt, panting. They were sweating up a bit 
and would need a good rub-down after this if they weren't to catch a chill. 
A long drink of water, a handful of oats and a nice warm stable with 
plenty of fresh straw. "Hi, Miss!"

"Anastasia! Just who we needed. Can I borrow your boys? It's for Miss 
Meadowlark."

"For her? She's got twenty of the fucking boys already, where are they?"

I indicated the orgy, which had now settled into a nice rhythm. The soft 
lowing sounds had been replaced by urgent grunts and girlish squeals of 
delight. "They're fucking the Third Form PE class," I said, to clear up any 
doubts. "But we need to move Miss Meadowlark. Let's have your boys, 
quick."

"Four?" Anastasia gaped at me. "How are you going to move her with four 
boys. They can only just manage to carry my tits. They only said they'd do 
that when I made them an offer they couldn't refuse."

The boys looked ashamed. They were prostituting themselves. Literally.

"We've got to move her." I flung my arms wide. "What can we do? Where's 
Miss Mountains?"

"Never mind her, Miss. Hang on here. Don't go away! Boys, UP!"

"Aaaargh, don't say that ..." I yelled, but Anastasia's boys were more 
dedicated than the others. They picked up her breasts, grunting under the 
strain, waited for the order, then galloped off.

"Left wheel ...!" Anastasia sang out, and they all disappeared round the 
corner. The boys, I noticed, had little bells attached to their knees, like 
Morris dancers. It made a jolly, festive sound. So Christmassy. All they 
needed to complete the picture was holly tucked in their posing pouches.

Now what? I wandered back down the quad to where Corinne stood 
watching her boys performing with the PE class. Despite herself, she was 
noticeably aroused.

"Shannie!" She pawed at me.

"Anastasia is fetching help. You only left her four boys." Corinne bit her lip 
in remorse and hung her head so her hair covered her face. "But she's gone 
to see what she can do. She's a good girl."

"I know. I'm sorry I called her a fat little cow."

"You did?"

"I must have done."

"Here she comes now. What the f ...?"

Around the corner, into the quad, skirting the fountain, came Anastasia 
and her four jingling boys, followed by four youths, naked apart from their 
blue armbands, pushing wheelbarrows. Eight more youths, similarly 
dressed, were carrying something large and heavy between them.

The whole party braked to a stop. "Wheelbarrows, Miss. And doors from 
the building site in the woods."

"What for?" I wailed. "I thought you'd gone to get help."

"This is help. Over there, lads!"

Anastasia has a way with boys. They scurried to do her bidding. God 
knows what she had promised them. In seconds, the four barrows were 
lined up in front of Corinne, two to each side, and two doors were carefully 
balanced between each pair of barrows.

"What's all this? You're not putting my tits on there!" I hoped Corinne 
wasn't going to be difficult. She can be very difficult.

"It's all right, Miss. C'mon, team. Ready? LIFT!"

The four breast-boys, bells a-jingle, struggled to get a grip of Corinne's 
right breast. At last, with a lot of sweating and blasphemy, they got it in 
their arms and lowered it on to the doors. There was a dangerous creaking 
sound, but nothing broke.

"Ready with the other one?"

"Wait!" Corinne stamped her little foot, and her poised breast wobbled 
dangerously, scattering the naked fuck-youths. "Why all this crap with 
wheelbarrows and sodding doors? You've got enough boys here. They can 
carry me!"

The four breast-boys took a sharp intake of breath and lowered Corinne's 
left breast to the ground.

"We'll pretend we never heard that, Miss," said Anastasia severely. Her 
four boys looked outraged. 

"What's the matter?"

The boys appointed a spokesman. "The Carrying of Breasts is ay highly-
skilled operation," he pronounced. He had suddenly developed a Scottish 
accent. "It is to be carried out solely by highly trained and selected 
personnel. Our members deplore the suggestion that scab labour be 
employed to carry the breasts of female teaching staff. We shall consider 
our options carefully and submit our proposals."

"Shit! You can't leave me like this with one tit on these barrows and the 
other one on the fucking ground!"

"Foul language isn't going to solve anything, Miss," intoned the spokesman.

"That's right, Miss," said Anastasia prissily. "You'd better apologise."

"I'm fucked if I'll apologise," Corinne stormed. "I'll sack the lot of you!"

The boys stood up straight and walked away a few paces, triumph on their 
faces.

"Get that other lot over here," Corinne yelled at me, waving a hand at the 
naked fuck-boys. "Get them to load me up on this fucking contraption."

"There's no need to swear, Corinne," I told her. "Anyway, I doubt if they'll 
touch you. You've been blacked. It would be more than their jobs are 
worth." The naked boys were nodding shyly.

Anastasia came to the rescue. "Team. Just for once, will you make an 
exception, please. Just for me?"

The four boys stood severely, shaking their heads. Anastasia smiled at 
them and blew each of them a little wet kiss.

"Come on," she sighed, "Just for littoo Stazie! Wemember what we're going 
to do later in Stazie's bedwoom?"

The boys wemembered. "This is under protest, Anastasia," said the 
spokesman, his Scottish accent becoming more impenetrable by the second. 
They moved unwillingly toward Corinne, took up her breast none too 
gently, and dumped it unceremoniously onto the doors. Then they turned 
without a word and returned to Anastasia's side.

"Thanks, boys," she breathed, and gave them a soft little kiss each. "Now, 
up!" Her breasts flew on to their shoulders. Softly, leaning toward them, 
she sighed the order. "Ready? Walk on!"

With a little wave of her fingers, she set off. I had an idea where they 
were going.

Corinne's edifice looked decidedly shaky. Each breast was supported on a 
pair of doors, each door was balanced on a pair of wheelbarrows. It took 
ten minutes to arrange the naked fuck-boys in their positions, two to each 
wheelbarrow, with two more ready to leap in if things looked like getting 
out of control.

"Right, lift them up," Corinne shouted at last. Everything wobbled as the 
boys raised the wheelbarrow handles. "Now, take a pace forward. Steady! 
STEADY!"

The boys were not all the same height. As they straightened up and took 
the strain, the doors tilted dangerously. It was a close thing. Corinne's right 
breast rolled massively inwards, blomped against the other one and rolled 
back again.

"Why don't they stop it?" she complained to me.

"They're not allowed to. They daren't touch it. If they touch your breast, 
that's it. They'll be out of here before their feet touch the ground, and 
they'll never work again."

"Shit!"

"Cee! Keep it clean, or they'll all walk out. They're only young lads."

"But they're employed to screw the girls, for fuck's sake!"

"That's right. There's a world of difference between screwing under-age 
girls and being sworn at by female teachers. Surely you can see that?"

We tried another step forward. After ten minutes, we had progressed 
almost twenty yards.

"I think they're getting the hang of it, Cee," I said encouragingly. "Another 
couple of hours and we'll be indoors."

"Excellent, Shan. Have you given any thought to how we are going to get 
this lot up the stairs?"

That's typical of Corinne. Always thinking of objections.


**********

Corinne lay on the bed, exhausted. I bathed her brow with cool water.

"Never mind, it's all sorted now. The boys are all back at work, thanks to 
Anastasia."

"Thanks to Anastasia?" she snorted. "Two dozen perfectly good boys she's 
ruined for the next week. I'm not going to be able to move until I get them 
back."

"No, they'll recover. They're young. A few hours, they'll be fine. And we've 
learned one thing. You can't carry a pair of giant breasts on four 
wheelbarrows."

"Tell me about it, Shan. I can still feel the pain from when we crashed. Did 
that boy recover in the end?"

"Some girls from the PE class gave him the kiss of life. He bumped his head 
when he fell into the fountain. It was touch and go for a while, but he's all 
better now."

"Just as well my breast-boys can't manage to make a shag last more than 
half an hour. They finished just in time to come to the rescue. You didn't 
hear any more about their strike threats?"

"No problem. When that Scottish kid started on about withdrawing their 
labour, and taking industrial action, a spokesman for the fuck-boys said 
the breast-boys were just as guilty of black-legging when they shagged the 
PE class. He said it was a threat to the fuck-boys' livelihoods, these fancy-
boys in lycra posing pouches swanning around as if they owned the whole 
school."

"Does that mean my boys can't fuck any more?" Corinne looked 
unnecessarily concerned, I thought.

"No, they've reached an agreement. All boys at St Cat's will be permitted to 
touch teachers' or students' breasts for the purposes either of carriage and 
haulage or in the pursuit of everyday sex."

Corinne brightened. "Every day? Gosh!"

"They're younger than us, Cee!"

"Speak for yourself," she muttered.

We sat in companionable silence for a while.

"There's one thing I don't understand, Cee."

"What's that, darling?" she said dreamily.

"The girls at the harems. All over the world. Having their babies. Now 
Moggie's new moral initiative is under way, why haven't they come 
home?"

"They voted to stay. They are enjoying it so much. They get all the food 
they can eat, there are eunuchs waiting on them hand and foot, night and 
day, they get bathed by matrons, a bit of sex now and again, enemas ..."

"Yuck!"

Corinne smiled to herself. "It feels quite nice, apparently. Something to do 
with the water pressure on your front bottom bits."

"So, they volunteered not to come back? But there won't be any more 
parties of our girls sent out to be sold into slavery?"

"Not compulsorily, no. But Toots will still organise trips, and the girls can 
volunteer if they like. Toots is fully booked for the next year, and girls are 
frantically trying to get pregnant in time."

"What about that Goofy girl? The first one who went out to Cantelopia?"

"Pasha Mandingo is keeping her. He's trying for a World Bust Record."

"How do you mean?"

"By all accounts, she's pretty huge. She exceeded all predictions. Something 
in her metabolism has reacted with all those Sexual Chemicals. Toots said 
the Pasha had to build her a specially large bedroom. It's probably all lies, 
but anyway, she won't be coming back. They'd never get her on a plane, 
for a start."

"So much for our moral crusade, Cee!"

"This thing is big, Shan! Bigger than any of us ought to be expected to deal 
with."

It was my turn to sigh dreamily. "I know, Cee, but put your hand back in 
there, love, and when I tense my muscles, I bet you won't be able to pull it 
out again ...!"

I was right, of course.


**********

"It wasn't my fault, Miz Gruntwurvy," Clit whined. "And leggo of my 
throat."

"It must have been your fault. Corinne grew ridiculously huge, and it all 
happened while she was hiding here with you. Even now she's a bit 
smaller, she still needs five boys to each side, it's not natural! And there's 
already a shortage of boys to carry Anastasia and Cassandra around. 
They're trying to get about with wheelbarrows, but they're far too big."

"It wasn't me, anyway. It was Miss Thunderbolt." Clit's voice was sulky.

"Miss Thunderbolt? How could it be her fault?"

"She said she wanted to test just how big our readouts would go. In case 
we ever had any really big girls among our new students."

I had to gulp. "Really big girls? You mean, bigger than Anastasia? Bigger 
than Cassandra? Where is she going to find girls as big as them? And why 
try it out on Corinne, anyway? She was miles too big for a ScatBraE, even 
before you made her the size she is now."

"I know. It wasn't meant for her. Miss Thunderbolt wanted to cream 
Anastasia again, and she grabbed a handful of the Grow Cream Super XL 
Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus and hid 
behind the door when we heard the breast boys' jingle-bells coming 
toward the bra-factory. The door opened, and Corinne's nipples came in. I 
recognised them straight away, and shouted at Moggie to stop, but she 
went splat with the cream."

"God! The woman's barking mad."

"She rubbed it into Corinne's moons. You know what moons are?"

"Yes."

"And  she was laughing and giggling all the time, shouting, 'grow, you 
bastards, grow, grow, grow!'"

I shook my head sadly. Moggie had really gone over the edge, this time.

Clit looked at me. "How is she? Miss Meadowlark, I mean? I haven't seen 
her since she was creamed. How big is she?"

"Five boys each side. They weigh tons. When her boys were busy shagging 
the PE class, it took four wheelbarrows just to get her as far as the main 
door. Needless to say, we couldn't get her upstairs."

"I could measure her for you," said Clit eagerly. "Just for the record ...?"

"No. She's had enough. She's going to be Shrunk again. The Second Form 
Sexual Chemistry Group is mixing a special batch of Shrink for her, and 
we're going to try it out on selected girls to see if it's safe for Cee."

Clit fell to her knees and pawed at my breasts frantically. "Let me measure 
her first. Please!"

"No! There's no point. What is the point of knowing the size of her bust, in 
inches?"

"Or feet, Miz Gruntwurvy. Or yards. Please! Let me measure her."

"You're just a pervert, Clit. All you are interested in is numbers."


**********

"Your new bra looks nice, Shannie. Such a pretty shade of olive drab." 
Corinne sat up in the middle of her three beds. I had persuaded her to 
borrow three single beds from the furniture stores, one for her, and one 
for each boob. Luckily her new room was so huge: there was still room for 
her old double bed in there as well, for me.

"Thanks," I said, discreetly tucking the readout away out of sight beneath a 
corner of the duvet. My measurements may have been less shameful 
reading than before, but they were still not fit to be displayed publicly.

"Clit told me all about it," I said, "your 'accident' with the Grow Cream 
Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra 
Plus. You never told me it was Moggie."

"You never asked. But it was an accident. She thought I was Anastasia."

"And that makes it all right, I suppose? The woman's mad, Cee. She ought 
to be locked away, after what she did to you. Are you all ready for the 
Shrink?"

"As soon as it's tested. It was very good of Sexy Amy to volunteer to test it 
out."

"I'm still not entirely happy about using her as a guinea pig, love. She's 
unstable after drinking all that Controllable Unhorniness."

"At least she's realised it's no great advantage having breasts that keep 
varying between huge and Wow the whole time." Corinne stroked her left 
breast absently, as if it were an enormous dog. Or a tame hippopotamus, 
perhaps.

I watched her, aching inside. "Amy said it cramps her style in bed. She 
never knows how big she's going to be when she wakes up. She's 
frightened she'll suffocate some boy during the night. Anyway, Suzanne 
and Pansy are going to cream her with Shrink tomorrow. By the next 
morning, she'll be vast, then she ought to gradually come down to her best 
fucking weight."

"Like Cassandra? That Shrink seemed to work on her after a few days. 
She's moved back into her Wendy house. Your Second Form Sexual 
Chemistry Group girls seem to be getting quite reliable these days. How's 
Pansy?"

"Recovering." I had an image of Pansy daintily mounting Petroc in the 
Wendy house. It seemed so long ago. "She was pretty cut up when the 
television company came and took her boyfriend away. But she's getting 
over it. She'll be okay when she realises how much better it is when you 
have a boyfriend who can do it in more than one position. The poor girl 
was wearing herself out, bouncing up and down like that. Especially with 
her boobs being the size they are. She said they were dangling at least a 
foot lower since she started shagging him."

"Shannie. You'll be here for me when I get Shrunk, won't you?"

"I'll be here, Cee. I'll hold your hand until it's all over."

"Good. I'm sorry, about everything that's happened?"

"I'm sorry, too, love. About drinking from Pansy, and cuddling Amy, and 
Suzanne, and Toria."

She formed her lips into a little kiss across the room. Then her eyes 
narrowed. "Toria? You snogged Toria? You never told me."

"It didn't mean anything. I was crying and she made me all better, that's 
all. We were only a minute. Twenty minutes. And we only kissed a bit and 
put our tongues in each other's mouths. Nothing below the waist ..."

"It's all right, Shan!"

"Well, only fingers, anyway. Well, whole hands, actually. No tongues down 
there ... what?"

"I said it's all right. I don't mind. It's you, that's all. You've got so much 
love to give. So long as you have enough left over for me, that's all I care 
about. That's all that matters."

"You mean that, Cee? And it's all right when I do it with girls, and with 
Smegs, and Jeremy?"

"Of course it's all right."

"Good. I do love you, Cee! It will be lovely when you're Shrunk enough for 
us to share a bed again."

"I'll be small enough, all right. But what about you? You've started getting 
slimmer, but you'll put it all back on if you carry on eating like that. Is that 
your supper?"

I held up a slice of my pizza. "This? It's all I've had all day. I'm starving. 
It's only a double double size deep deep pan pizza with extra extra cheese." 
A burp escaped my lips. "Oops. I beg your pardon!"

"Granted. I shall have to give careful consideration about whether to allow 
you to share my bed, Chauntaille." Corinne yawned expansively. "I'm 
knackered, love."

It went all quiet, apart from my pigging sounds as I demolished the last 
slice of pizza. By the time I had finished, Corinne was sound asleep, and 
snoring gently. I know she doesn't snore, but she does, believe me.





Chapter 20:- Epilogue - II


"The Shrink seems to be working, Cee!"

"I can never get used to the way it does this. Look at the size of me now!"

It was as well she had three beds. Her giant, mountainous breasts lay 
beside her. Three boys stood on each side of her beds, ready to push her 
breasts back on to the bed if they tried to roll off. If one of those had 
crashed to the floor it would have gone through the floorboards. It might 
even have hurt her.

"How do they feel?"

"Full. As if I had been stuffing myself with double double sized deep deep 
pan pizzas with extra extra cheese. But it's not pizza, it's all me. All Cee!"

"Soon be gone, darling," I said with just a twinge of regret. "You'll be able 
to walk around on your own after all this."

"And frolic in the woods among the Spring flowers."

"With crowds of boys sticking garlands in your hair?"

"And naked girls ready to fill my every need."

"And your every orifice, Cee."

"If they insist, Shan." She was quiet for a moment. "It's starting. I can 
recognise the feeling from last time. I'm starting to Shrink!"

I turned over on to my side and watched her. My tit squashed heavily 
beneath me. It felt bigger than usual. Even bigger. I fumbled for my 
readout card, but I wasn't wearing my bra, so it wasn't working. By the 
time I looked back at Corinne again, her expression had changed to 
apprehension. She poked her left breast with a finger.

"It's just as full, but it's smaller. The other one's the same. You can't see it, 
but it is. They're nearly down to what they were before this morning."

"It's working then. I was worried when the girls came in and sprayed that 
mist over your chest. I was hoping it would be a cream I could rub in."

"Suzanne was right, Shan. It would have taken hours. Especially with you 
doing it. You know what you're like when you get sidetracked."

"You never complained before."

"I'm not complaining now. But if you'd started creaming me, it wouldn't 
only have been my breasts that got Shrunk! I don't really want the 
smallest pussy in the world, Shan!"

"It wouldn't work on pussies, would it? I mean, I could do with reducing 
mine by half a dozen sizes. I'm like the Grand Canyon down there."

She went quiet again. I almost imagined I could hear a hissing noise as she 
got smaller. You couldn't quite see them Shrinking, but if you looked away 
and back at them again, they were smaller each time.

Mine were getting uncomfortable. God, it felt as if the boob I was resting 
on was getting so huge. I looked down at it. It was getting bigger!

"Cee, look at me. My tits are getting bigger!"

"No, it's just mine getting smaller that make yours look bigger by 
comparison."

"No, Cee. Look at them. Look at my nightie, it's too tight!"

"It's just the way you're lying all scrunched up like that. Sit up straight. 
They're no bigger."

I sat up straight. I got off the bed and stood up. 

"Cee! Look at me. They're enormous!"

"Shan, they're enormous."

"That's what I'm telling you. They're enormous!"

"They're enormous, Shan."

"I know!"

My breasts were enormous. I stared at them, and at Corinne. Hers were 
getting smaller. Mine were getting bigger. Mine were now bigger than 
Corinne's. Inside my voluminous full-length nightie, they hung way past 
my knees, and they felt fuller and heavier by the second. They were heavy 
all right. They bumped against each other, going squish, squash. The 
nipples felt as if they were getting huge, too. I couldn't see them - I never 
can - and they weren't touching the floor yet, but it wasn't going to be long 
before they did. They were out in the fresh air, I could feel it.

"How long are my nipples, Cee?"

"How do I know? Look at you, standing there growing like a pig. I told you 
this would happen when you had that double double sized deep deep pan 
pizza with extra extra cheese last night."

"They're touching the floor, Cee. My nipples are touching the floor!"

"Gosh, so they are," Corinne said coldly. "I suppose this was your idea of a 
joke. While you were getting me made smaller, you creamed yourself to 
make yours bigger. Nice one, Shannie. Not!"

"I didn't! I didn't do anything. I've been here the whole time. I lay here 
and watched while Suzanne sprayed the Shrink mist over you. I haven't 
even been out since yesterday."

"It's Shrink, then. You're swelling up before you Shrink, same as I did."

"Me? Shrink? I don't want to Shrink. It's taken me years to get them this 
size. They're just nice, at 138 inches."

There was a sudden ripping noise, and I knew in my heart of hearts that 
they weren't 138 inches any more. My nightie had become instantly 
shredded. No drama, it hadn't burst or exploded or anything. In the space 
of perhaps five seconds, it just ripped itself to pieces. It had cost thirty 
quid. Well, 29.99.

Corinne chewed her fingers. "They're more than that now. They must be a 
couple of hundred at least. Look at them!"

I looked. They had stopped bumping against each other. They weren't 
moving any more. They were resting on the carpet, the nipples squashing 
under the huge weight. I tried to sit down, but the weight of them sort of 
pulled me straight back up again, like one of those dolls with a round 
bottom that won't lie down. It was the same when I tried to walk. Nothing 
moved. Oh, shit.

"At least, we'll have a use for my boys." Corinne gestured to her own 
breasts. "I don't need them any more."

I did. I needed something.

Corinne sat up abruptly. Her breasts rested in her lap. She looked about as 
big as Suzanne. With her hair down, she looked about the same age as 
Suzanne, too. I wanted to rush across to her and take her in my arms. I 
wasn't rushing anywhere. Mahomet wasn't going to the mountain, so the 
mountain had to come to Mahomet. Corinne crawled off the bed, tested the 
weight of her breasts in her arms, then came toward me.

"Wheee," she crowed. "These feel great. How big do you think they are, 
Shan? About 78 inches? Do you think they're too small, now? I feel as if 
I'm floating."

She floated in my direction, but went straight past.

"Hold still. Don't move."

"Thank you, Cee. You do say the nicest things."

She was the other side of my bed. Her boys had followed her uncertainly 
across the room, feeling redundant. "Come on, boys. Push the bed toward 
Miss Gruntworthy."

I felt the bed touch me behind the knees. It pushed harder. "Ouch, careful, 
Cee!"

They pushed harder still. I was falling over. Harder. "Eeek!" The bed 
moved with a rush, thudding into the backs of my knees, and down I went, 
on my back on the bed. My breasts finally unstuck themselves from the 
floor and flung themselves on top of me. It felt as if I had been engulfed 
by a pair of hippopotami, who were now mating on top of my helpless 
body. At least, the surging pressure in my tits had abated. They were as 
big as they were going to get. I estimated myself at about five boys size. 
Five boys each side. Even bigger than Anastasia! Ridiculous!

"It's gone dark, Cee. I've gone blind!"

"It's all right. It's just your tits covering your face. It happens. Don't worry 
darling. Just lie there and wait for them to go down."

"Cee. Don't leave me. Where are you going?"

"For a walk, where do you think? I can walk now. See you later."

She touched me intimately between the legs. Too late, I lowered them to 
the bed. Corinne had gone.


**********

Someone was shaking me awake. Awake? I was soaked in a cold sweat. 
One thing was certain, I was no longer lying on my back with giant tits 
covering my face. My nightie wasn't split any more. It was reassuringly 
still there around my pussy, beneath the covers. I was in bed, safe and 
warm and comfortable.

"Who is it?" I opened my eyes. A familiar face loomed over me.

"It's me, Miss!"

"Amy, darling. Hello." She leaned closer, and I flooded the bed instantly. 
How inconvenient. Sexy Amy still had all her powers. At least, it proved it 
had all been a dream. I was soaked down there. And wide awake. "Open 
the curtains, Amy, darling. It's a bit dark in here."

"It's a bit difficult to move, Miss. But I'll try." There was a heavy rumbling 
sound - and a strange squeaking - then the curtains opened. Amy returned 
to the bedside and I stared at her. I sat up and stared. She was so 
inconceivably gigantic I was unable to comprehend her. She was bigger 
than she had ever been. Bigger than any other girl at St Cat's had ever 
been. Bigger even than Corinne had ever been. One breast was still over by 
the window. She had to lean back and heave it across the carpet to her 
feet. That was the rumbling and squeaking I had heard. Her boobs were on 
wheels. "Mr Jeremy made these wheels for me to use indoors. They're like 
skateboards, but they've got bigger bits of wood on top, and instead of 
ordinary wheels, they've got castors. When Mr Jeremy first made them, 
they had ordinary skateboard wheels, but I couldn't go round corners. My 
boobs used to head off in different directions and they'd end up about ten 
feet apart. I'm a bit big, Miss," she said apologetically. "Yours are nice, 
though!"

"Mine? Oh?" I pulled the covers down to look at them. At least, now the 
dream was over, they weren't two hundred inches any more. They weren't 
any more than ... "Eeeeeek! Where are they. Amy? My tits have gone!"

"No, Miss. They're there, look. Inside your nightie. They're quite big ones, 
really. Nearly as big as Miss Meadowlark's. Oh, I know mine are the size of 
hot air balloons, but I'm a bit unusual. Something like thirty feet. My Mum 
and Grandma had big ones, too. I got this big when I was nine."

"But, Amy. Look at mine. They're not even a D cup!"

"Of course not, Miss. Miss Meadowlark is a D. Yours are a nice big C though. 
They must be about the biggest in the whole school, apart from Miss 
Meadowlark. And me."

I got out of bed and walked to the dressing table mirror. I hadn't been this 
small since I was fourteen. It felt really really weird. I dashed to the 
window and looked out. There were a few girls wandering around in 
curiously empty looking blouses. 

Amy trundled over and stood by my side. "What are you looking for, Miss? 
Miss Meadowlark is over at the factory, talking to Miss Clit and Miss Flaps, 
Miss."

"What about? What is the factory going to do if the whole school has 
Shrunk?"

"Shrunk?" Amy wrinkled her nose and cocked her head on one side, like a 
dog trying to look intelligent and cute. "The factory is doing what it always 
did, Miss. Miss Meadowlark is helping them with the design of the latest 
batch of Virginity Tokens. In her capacity as Purity and Morality Mistress."

"Virginity Tokens?"

"Oh, Miss! Have you lost your memory again? This is always happening to 
you. It's Selective Ambrosia. You ought to see Nurse. You remember St 
Cat's Virginity Tokens? We sell them in schools all over the country? Some 
schools have a real problem with girls of loose morals. They go out with 
boys, Miss. They even sit on their faces. Amy blushed deep red. But when 
the schools start offering Virginity Tokens for good behaviour, the girls see 
the error of their ways. Lots of them become nuns, and swear an oath of 
Chastity for the rest of their lives. Like our girls, Miss!"

"Our girls? Oh, you mean our girls. At St Cat's. They don't have boyfriends, 
or get pregnant, or have babies in harems?"

Amy had her fingers in her ears. She shook her head and closed her eyes 
tight. "I can't hear you, Miss. I'm not listening until you stop talking rude 
things. You're not well, Miss. Let me put you back to bed. Oooh, Miss, 
you've wee-wee'd yourself, you're all wet. Let me wipe it off your legs 
with this towel. Gosh, Miss, you've done it again! You shouldn't drink so 
much at bedtime!"

I let her. I was tired.

"There, Miss. All tucked up. Sweet dreams, Miss!"

I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, a few seconds later, 
expecting to find that it had all been a dream, Amy was talking quietly 
into a hand-held radio. She switched off and wedged it between her 
breasts, then squeaked and rumbled her way to the door. 

Almost instantly, it opened, and thirty girls in long shiny boots boots and 
motor cycle leathers came in, swiftly removed the wheeled platforms from 
Amy's breasts, picked up their mammoth burdens with frightening 
efficiency and preceded her out of the door. A short while later, I heard 
their boots on the gravel as they passed the window, one of them calling 
out the step, "left ... left ... left, right, left," as they carried Amy away into 
the woods. 

It all makes sense, I told myself as I went off to sleep again. With tits that 
size, she won't be able to get into the dormitory, they will have built a 
Wendy house for her out in the woods.


**********

Sexless Amy had been right. Corinne's breasts were a lovely pair of D cups, 
firm, outrageously plump and full beneath her drum-taut starched white 
high-necked blouse. Her hair swished around her hips, playing now-you-
see-it-now-you-don't with the tight cheeks of her lovely bottom in a knee-
length navy skirt. Even in heeled shoes she still looked tiny and edible.

"Amy said you weren't feeling too good, Chauntaille. You do look a bit 
peaky. Is this what you had for supper?" She picked up the empty box in 
which the double double sized deep deep pan pizza with extra extra cheese 
had been delivered by an almost almost desirable boy in motorcycle 
leathers and long shiny boots.

"That's right, Cee, it gave me a terrible dream, really vivid." I had barely 
started to recount the full details of the dream when Corinne cut in.

"I do wish you wouldn't call me that."

"And while yours were getting smaller, mine were ... what?"

"Don't call me that stupid, childish name. I've told you a thousand times. If 
you can't call me Corinne, just stick to Miss Meadowlark. It's not good for 
the girls to hear their teachers being too familiar with each other. I don't 
really object to first names myself, but I do not like nicknames. You would 
hardly expect me to call you Shan, would you?" She laughed mirthlessly at 
such an outrageous idea.

"No, Corinne," I muttered.

"Good. What do you think of these? The new design of Virginity Token. 
Girls will be able to wear these with their school uniforms. They come with 
optional trim in blue and gold, green and gold, crimson and gold and plain 
gold."

"Very nice, Corinne."

"I wish you would show a little more enthusiasm for virginity, Chauntaille. 
Miss Clittress has put a lot of work into these designs. Right." She slid the 
Virginity Tokens into a drawer and inspected her hair in the mirror. I 
wanted to brush it for her. "Breakfast. I've done an hour's work already, 
and I feel ready for a stewed prune and a small dish of plain yoghurt. You 
won't be having anything, Chauntaille?" It wasn't a question so much as an 
order. Corinne fixed my pizza box with a steely glare. "I will bring you 
something non-fattening from the restaurant." She approached my bed and 
placed a cool hand on my brow. "Hmm. A bit of a temperature. Perhaps I 
will call Nurse for you later. Try to sleep, Chauntaille." And she bent to kiss 
me.

My arm shot out around her neck and I tried to pull her down to my 
burning cheek, my voracious open mouth so hungry for hers, my tongue 
already hanging out in anticipation.

"You smell of cheese and anchovies, Chauntaille," Corinne scolded, waving a 
distasteful hand in front of her face. "I shall explain your absence to Miss 
Thunderbolt after prayers."

The door closed behind her. The soft fragrance of her hair still hung about 
me. I hadn't even had time to explain about my dream, and to tell her 
about Sexless Amy and her thirty girls in mechanics' blue overalls who had 
borne her off to the woods where she had a little Wendy house with extra 
wide doors.





Chapter 21:- Epilogue - III


Corinne was back so soon.

"I brought you a little something from the restaurant. Not much, but you 
had such a disturbed night, I thought you needed something to settle your 
stomach." 

I heard the rattle of plates and cutlery, and the sound of many footsteps 
milling around the bed. It was high time this absurd dream ended. It had 
been so vivid, so complex. It was in full glowing Technicolor, wide screen, 
with surround sound. It had feelings of wetness. It still did have those. 
And smells, too. There had been the the girl-smell of Amy and her thirty 
booted mechanics; the scent of Corinne's hair. And now, eggs and bacon.

Eggs and BACON?

I shot upright and took in the scene. The room was full of boys, bronzed, 
oiled and gloriously topless boys in simulated leopard skin cycling shorts. 
They smiled fondly at me and carried on preparing my breakfast. One of 
them was busy with a frying pan and a camping stove on the dressing 
table. Another was polishing a plate. I could see another ladling out bacon, 
sausages and mushrooms, fried potatoes and chunks of fresh white bread. 
As I watched, aghast, a huge mound of scrambled eggs appeared on the 
plate. Two boys placed a table across the bed in front of me, its edge just 
touching my breasts.

My breasts!

"My tits have come back!" I yelled at no-one in particular. The boys 
grinned and simpered at each other. "Cee, I mean, Corinne! Look at my 
tits!"

"Shan, please, pas devant les domestiques! She pushed her way between 
the boys. They were so much taller than her. Her little glowing face 
appeared, framed by her cascading hair which tumbled down past the 
yawning, gaping cleavage of her almost topless scoop-necked blouse. "Hi, 
lover!" Corinne perched her cute bottom on the bed and kissed me, her 
little pink tongue doing rude things to my spleen. "You taste nice. Fishy 
and cheesy. If the boys weren't here, I might be strongly tempted."

"Cee? Your boobs!"

"Like them? The new me. Still bigger than yours, of course, but you can't 
imagine how it feels not to have to have them carried everywhere. But 
yours look fantastic, Shannie. You're so firm now, and even with all the 
food you manage to put away, you manage to keep such a lovely waist. It 
all goes to your tits and bum. Grrrr! I have to watch my waist all the time. 
It's not fair."


**********

We had dismissed the boys and finished off the breakfast between us, 
Corinne sitting next to me on the bed. Very close indeed. I wiped up the 
last traces of ketchup and bacon juice with a piece of bread and placed it 
between Corinne's lips.

"You'll make me burst, darling! I've finally got these things down to a 
reasonable size and you're trying to feed me up again." She rested her 
head on my shoulder, and our breasts lay heavily against each other.

"I had an amazing dream, Cee!"

"Not another of your dreams, Shannie. Hardly surprising, though, after that 
fucking great pizza you had for supper. Was I in it?"

"Of course. Well, yes, it was you, and then again, it wasn't. And our tits 
were in it, too."

"You can't keep these tits out of a dream, Shan."

"You weren't very nice, Cee! You didn't let me call you Cee. You'd just been 
over to Clit's factory for the new designs of Virginity Tokens. You put them 
in the top drawer over there."

Corinne almost leapt up from the bed. I had never seen her move so fast. 
"This top drawer, here? I put my new bra in there. Look!" She took the bra 
out and held it against herself, it was a lovely soft lilac colour, really 
feminine. Not that I ever saw too many masculine bras.

"It's super, Cee. Just your colour. No readout on it?"

"No, I told Moggie I'm not wearing a readout. It demeans women."

"And she agreed?"

"Of course. She wanted me to suck her rude bits, of course."

"Oh!"

"I told her to suck her own rude bits. What else happened in this dream of 
yours?"

"It was terrible.  Sexy Amy was in it. She was huge. She needed thirty girls 
with motocycle leathers and long shiny boots to carry her tits. They were 
on wheels! I hope she hasn't grown that big, Cee, it would be really 
inconvenient."

"I'm sure she hasn't, Shan, or you'd know for sure."

I thought about that for a minute. "Oh. You mean, you know? You noticed?"

"I'm not blind, Shannie."

"And you don't mind? It's all right?"

"Of course it is, love!"

Sexy Amy poked her head out from beneath the covers of my bed.

"Thank Christ for that, Miss. Can I come out now? I was nearly suffocating 
under there."

I looked up shyly at Corinne. She laughed, a pretty, tinkling sound, like 
Anastasia's breast-carriers' sleigh-bells. "Go on, Shannie. You can let them 
all out. I know they're in there."

Amy crawled out on top of the bed, dragging her hands through her hair. 
She fanned her face with her hand.

"Phworr! Remind me never to spend another night under your covers after 
you've had a giant pizza for supper, Miss." She plunged a hand beneath the 
covers and came up a with a pretty boy I thought I recognised from 
somewhere. Then there were two naked First Formers, one with a pair of 
walnut-sized teats, the other with a substantial pair of boobs, even by St 
Cat's standards.

"Gosh, Amy, where did you find that one?" I am afraid I was staring at the 
girl's bosom with undisguised admiration.

"Do you like her, Miss? It's a girl who lives near us, at home. She ... well ... 
she got big suddenly during the hols."

"She certainly did!" I said shakily. The girl was truly immense. Pineapples 
simply weren't in it. She sat there blushing prettily.

Corinne shook a finger at Amy. "You didn't cream her? A non-Cat's girl?"

"Only a little bit. Toria and I had a bit left over in a tub, so we found a few 
of the local girls and creamed them. This one turned out biggest, so I 
persuaded her Mum and Dad to let her come to St Cat's, Miss! And I love 
your tits, Miss Meadowlark!"

Corinne blushed prettily. "This Crusade, Shannie. It was a far bigger job 
than we realised. It's going to take years to sort this lot out. These girls are 
quite beyond redemption."

"Yes, Cee." I studied the little group of naked bodies on my bed: Amy 
fondling the pretty boy in a fairly intimate manner, while herself being 
orally serviced by the two First Formers. But ... there was still somebody 
down there in my bed. I could feel things happening between my legs. I 
mean, I can always feel things happening between my legs, but these were 
being caused by several very long, educated fingers. "Excuse me," I said, 
and threw back the covers.

We all gasped. The boy, the girls, Amy, Corinne's breast-boys, Corinne 
herself. And me.

"Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen? It was you, down there? Pleasuring me?"

Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen blushed prettily. "I'm so glad you enjoyed it, 
Shan. But I think you have perhaps earned the right to call me Gwladys," 
she murmured.





THE END