THE GOLDEN GOOSE 

 

by Some Sort of Dog 

 

 

This is a story mainly about large breasts. There may be a suggestion 

of explicit sexual activity between adults, but although some of the 

characters have not yet reached adulthood, they are not described as 

indulging in sexual activity with adults. The story is a fantasy and 

should not be read by anyone under eighteen, or whatever the age of 

consent is in the place where you live. 

 

 

 

 

THE GOLDEN GOOSE 

 

by Some Sort of Dog 

 

 

Chapter 11:- Donna  

 

"Sorry it's such an early start," said Maggie, "but I have to be in 

London by lunchtime. I'll drop Donna at Mrs Danby's and pick her up 

after my meeting. She'll be all right with Mrs D, and by the time I 

collect her, she'll have a bra. Three, in fact, in different colours." 

 

Laura Fielding took her daughter's empty plate and mug, and dunked 

them in the washing-up bowl. "More coffee?" Maggie shook her head. 

"This Mrs Danby. Is this all she does, make great big bras?" 

 

"Mostly," Maggie laughed. "You wouldn't think there was enough 

demand for them, would you. But she seems to have enough clients to 

keep herself busy full time. She does clothes as well, made to measure 

shirts and blouses, that sort of thing. Not all for women with big busts, 

but you can be sure quite a lot of her bra customers have their blouses 

from her as well. She'll tell Donna all about what she does. She has a 

sort of catalogue there, all pictures of her products." 

 

Donna came down the stairs, breathing heavily. "Sorry, Maggie, I 

couldn't find a shirt I liked. You like this one?" 

 

Maggie looked at the sixteen-year-old and decided she did like her 

shirt. It was remarkably well filled, and blue, like a man's work shirt. 

 

"It's a man's work shirt," Donna said. "That's why the collar is too big 

and the sleeves are too long. But it's comfortable and it goes with my 

jeans. Anyway, I'm ready at last." She grabbed her bag and kissed her 

mother. 

 

"Have a nice day, dear," said Laura. 

 

"I'm not going to enjoy myself, Mum, I'm getting measured for a bra." 

 

"Have a simply miserable time, then. Suit yourself." Laura gave Donna 

a hug. 

 

"See you later, Laura," Maggie checked the time. "We'll be back by 

five. Any hold-up, we'll call you." 

 

"I'll have some dinner ready for you. Make sure you leave room for a 

Laura-size meal!" 

 

 

********** 

 

"I wish she hadn't mentioned dinner,"said Donna as soon as the car 

was out on the main road. "I'm starving! She's had me on a strict diet 

for a whole week, ever since you made the appointment for this bra. 

She said I have to be at my smallest when I get measured, so I qualify 

for more inches-worth of Cunis's growth bonus." 

 

Maggie's eyes opened wide at Donna's frankness. "Has it made any 

difference? You don't look any smaller." 

 

"I'm not. Not my boobs, anyway. I may have lost a bit off my thighs 

and waist, but my boobs don't get any smaller. She'll be feeding me up 

after this, though, and she'll turn me into a balloon." 

 

"You'll be needing another bra in a month, then?" 

 

"She's worked out how many inches she can get my bust up to in a 

year. She's ordered a new BMW!" 

 

Maggie really liked this cheery girl, with her matter-of-fact attitude to 

her outrageous development. She wondered how she would get on with 

the other girls. Charlotte could get along with anybody. Kay would be 

astounded to find another girl with a bigger bust than her. Lynda was 

only interested in Lynda, but she might relate to someone more her 

own age.  

 

Perhaps they would have to arrange a little get together. Later, after 

the magazine came out with Kay's first layout in it. To follow that, 

HUMUNGOUS! would be coming up with Charlotte's layout, two 

months later. That was intended once and for all to silence the barrage 

of criticism coming from the direction of the silicone-laden GROSS 

magazine. 

 

Donna kept up a stream of chatter, all the way down the motorway. 

"Coo, are we here already?" she said, as Maggie turned into Mrs 

Danby's front drive. "I thought it would be a shop. It's just a house." 

 

No ordinary house, as Donna discovered, an expression of wonder 

shining out of her face as she gazed around the cluttered workroom. 

There was a kind of dressmaker's dummy that even Maggie hadn't 

seen before. Not the usual dummy, but rather a skeletal one with 

adjustments for every part. At the moment, it was adjusted to a 

miniscule waist and a gargantuan bust. A vast black bra hung casually 

over the shoulder of the creature. 

 

"You can blame your friend Charlotte for what she did to 

Clytemnestra," Mrs Danby giggled. "She found the adjustment screws 

and reduced the poor girl's waist. It's Charlotte's bust, though!" She 

manoeuvred Donna under the lights and scrutinised her, hands on 

hips. "Now, who's this you've brought me? Someone to do with your 

article?" 

 

"Er, yes. Donna's mother wrote to me and told me about her big bust. I 

thought she'd be ideal." 

 

"She's certainly big enough to qualify. Don't think much of your bra, 

girl!" 

 

"I'm not wearing one," Donna blushed. "I haven't got any that fit me 

any more." 

 

"God, how long have you been walking around overhanging like that? 

You'll do yourself some damage, child!" 

 

Maggie had to get away to her meeting with Duncan, but she wasn't 

going to miss a sight of Donna without her shirt, not for a thousand 

Duncans. Mrs Danby suspected as much, and mischievously delayed 

the moment of the unveiling. In the end, Maggie, in desperation, asked 

if Mrs Danby had any other clients in today, and would Donna be 

ready when she returned at two pm. 

 

"She'll be ready, don't you worry. Off you go, and let the workers get 

on with their jobs." 

 

So she never saw. Maggie made a resolution to be back by half past 

one, to get a glimpse of Donna while she was getting dressed. At least, 

while still in the car, Maggie had impressed upon Donna the 

importance of not revealing the connection between herself and Cunis 

Publications. She was to answer any questions by saying that she was 

going to appear in Maggie's article on women with huge breasts. The 

essential thing for her to find out was her overall bust measurement, 

required for the purposes of her bonus payments. 

 

Donna had listened carefully, and rubbed her hands together. "So, I 

have you in my power, Lady Pornographer!" she had gloated. "For 

another five hundred pounds, my lips shall be sealed. If I was my 

Mum," she had said, "you'd know I was serious! Anyway, I'll get Mrs 

Danby to tell me what my bust size is. I can act the curious teenager 

quite well when I have to. Besides," she giggled girlishly, "I really 

want to know!" 

 

 

********** 

 

"I thought she was never going to leave," said Mrs Danby. "I'm going 

to put the kettle on for a cup of tea. Can't work without tea. Or would 

you prefer something cold and fizzy?" 

 

"Nothing for me, thanks. I'm on a diet," Donna said seriously. 

 

Mrs Danby looked at her suspiciously, but saw only Donna's most 

innocent expression. "You girls these days. Skinny as rakes and you 

still starve yourselves. Look at you, there's nothing of you!" She filled 

the kettle and returned to Donna, picking up her notebook and 

opening it to a brand new page. "Now then, I need to take a few 

measurements, of course. Just general ones at first. How tall are you?" 

 

"About a metre forty-seven," said Donna with a hint of a mischievous 

smile. 

 

"Do what? Speak English, girl. Come over here and stand by the 

wall." Mrs Danby slid a pointer down until it touched the top of 

Donna's head. "Right, four feet ten." 

 

"That's what I said!" 

 

"Look, if I have any trouble with you, I will send you back where you 

came from with your boobs dangling round your knees, understand?" 

 

"Yes, Mrs Danby. Whatever you say, Mrs Danby." Donna was trying 

hard not to burst out laughing. 

 

"You'll need your kit off, now. Jeans, and your shirt."  

 

Mrs Danby watched as Donna unfastened her belt and wriggled her 

jeans down over her narrow hips. She stepped out of them, then 

hooked them up with one foot to avoid bending down. She draped 

them over the back of a chair. Her shirt came down to below her hips, 

and for most of its length, it was full of Donna. She began to undo the 

buttons, starting at the top. By the time she was down to the fourth or 

fifth, a shadowy cleavage began to appear, but she was well past her 

waist before there was any real fullness to her bust. She completed the 

unbuttoning, and looked Mrs Danby squarely in the eye as she slipped 

the oversized shirt off her shoulders and folded it neatly on top of her 

jeans. 

 

"Oh, my goodness gracious me, girl. What on earth are we going to do 

about those!" 

 

Donna blushed for the first time. She thought she had been doing well 

so far, performing her matter-of-fact striptease without visible signs of 

nervousness, but Mrs Danby's exclamation changed all that. 

 

"You can do something, can't you? They're not too big for a bra?" 

 

"Oh, we can do something. I've seen bigger ones, don't worry. But 

never on a little shrimp like you. I mean, your back is so narrow, 

there's almost nothing to hang them on. But we'll manage. Let's do 

your other measurements first, and get them out of the way." She took 

a tape measure from around her neck, and flourished it in front of 

Donna. "Lift your boobs so I can do your waist." 

 

She watched while Donna slid both her hands beneath the giant 

breasts and lifted them up and away from her slender body. There was 

a moment of minor crisis as the whole lot threatened to get loose and 

flop back down, but Donna regained control and held them up. "All 

right?" she said. "High enough?" 

 

"Don't drop them while I'm underneath, that's all," Mrs Danby warned 

her, and slipped the tape around her waist. "Hmm-mm," she said, 

"now keep them up there while I ..." and she measured higher up, 

beneath the point where Donna's breasts joined her rib cage. "I don't 

suppose you've seen under here," she said, sounding like a mechanic 

pointing out rust on the underside of a car. "A bit of redness of the 

skin. Are they sore at all in this warm weather?" 

 

Donna nodded. "I sprinkle talcum powder underneath them," she 

shouted to the invisible bra-maker, "and it does help a bit, but they still 

rub whenever I move." 

 

"It's a problem, love. Sorry, you can let them down now, I'm all clear. 

Just hold them out a little bit while I do your hips ... and ... there! 

Good girl!" She wrote the figures down in her book. 

 

"What size am I?" Donna asked, curious. She was panting a little from 

the exertion of holding up her breasts. 

 

Mrs Danby put her head on one side and looked at her like a bird. 

"Don't you know? You're fairly normal for your height." 

 

"Yes, but what? My mum put me on a diet, and I want to know if it's 

been working." 

 

"That's right, blame your poor old mother. How does eighteen inches 

sound for your waist? And twenty-nine round the hips? Is the diet 

working?" 

 

Donna was stunned. "It's working!" 

 

"You could do with gaining a few more pounds all over, but I daresay 

it all goes on your boobs, doesn't it?" 

 

"Usually," said Donna. 

 

"Right. Yours are so big and heavy, we can't just hang a tape measure 

round them, and balancing them on the table doesn't really work. I use 

a special bit of equipment I designed myself. Actually, it's an old idea, 

but I've brought it up to date because it's such a good way of measuring 

really really big ones like yours. Here we go. I call it Bertha It's all 

right, she won't bite you!" 

 

Bertha was a frightening-looking piece of equipment. At first sight, it 

could have been a rather over-engineered brassiere. That is, it had a 

body band, a wide strap of canvas-like material about five inches wide, 

which went round the body just above the waist. 

 

"One size fits all," said Mrs Danby, passing the contraption round 

Donna's middle and adjusting the girth before pressing the two halves 

together with velcro. "Actually, for larger chest sizes, there is an extra 

section that I can attach to extend it. You don't need that with your 

twenty-three inch chest! In fact, it only just goes down small enough to 

fit you. There, not too tight?" 

 

"No, it's fine," said Donna. 

 

"Good, 'cause that's the easy part. The platform has to go on now, so 

you're going to have to hoist those things up again for a minute. Not 

yet. Hang on while I connect all the straps." She began to attach a pair 

of heavy shoulder straps, two inches wide. She left them loose and 

picked up another bit of Bertha, in the same material as the body band. 

It was a semi rigid platform, fitted with loops. "This is the biggest 

platform, I've got a couple of smaller ones. What happens is that your 

breasts rest on here, supported by the shoulder straps, and then we can 

measure your true circumference. To measure the circumference of a 

bust, you're supposed to use a well-fitting bra, but most of my first-

time clients don't have one of those, or they wouldn't be seeing me in 

the first place. Hence Bertha. Right, hoist away!" 

 

Donna heaved first one, then the other breast, caught the weight of 

them, then lifted them straight up and out. Her hands shook with the 

effort, and the great masses of her breasts wobbled in sympathy, 

threatening to get out of control. Mrs Danby placed a hand on each 

side of them, and held them steady until they were relatively safe. 

"Hold them there, I won't be a minute," she said, and quickly hooked 

the platform to the body band. Then she attached the shoulder straps to 

the sides of the platform, about two thirds of its depth outward from 

Donna's body. "Wow, you are awesome," she said, and Donna blushed.  

 

She caught sight of herself in the full length mirror, and her eyes 

nearly popped out. Her breasts were supported way out in front of her, 

the nipples at the level of her waist. "Is that me? Golly!" 

 

"That's you. Those straps are cutting into you at the sides, since your 

boobs are so much wider than the platform. And you're hanging over 

the ends, too, which isn't supposed to happen. Never mind, it will be 

uncomfortable, but it's only until I measure you, then it can all come 

off again." She attached the end of the tape to the side of Donna's left 

breast, where it stuck to the shoulder strap with a pad of velcro. 

"Where would we be without velcro?" she murmured. "Now, hold still 

..." and she ran the tape round Donna's back, all the way round to the 

other breast, then way out to the front. The tape lay across both of her 

nipples, where they drooped slightly as they overhung the end of the 

platform, and returned to the starting point on her left breast. 

 

Mrs Danby checked that the tape was in position all the way round, 

and nodded, satisfied. "I suppose you're going to want to know your 

bust measurement," she said. 

 

"Yes, please." 

 

Mrs Danby continued taking measurements: the depth of the cleavage 

from the breast bone out to each nipple, the length of the breasts from 

the collar bone down to the tips, and a number of other dimensions in 

various directions. She wrote most of them down. "No wonder you 

couldn't find a bra to fit. How big was your last one?" 

 

"It was last year, a 34H." 

 

"Thirty FOUR? How was that supposed to fit? You're a twenty-eight! 

Worse than useless." 

 

Donna wondered whether that description was meant to apply to her or 

to the woman in the bra shop who had sold her mother a bra as 

outrageously huge as a 34H, which had never even fitted Donna where 

it touched. 

 

"You're seventy-one inches, which even surprised me, because you're 

so tiny and slim. Not that the bust measurement matters a toss. There 

must be a dozen ways of measuring boobs. This is just my standard 

method. One of my girls a couple of weeks ago was a seventy-four, and 

hers were a lot smaller than yours." She detached the straps and 

removed Bertha, allowing Donna to lower her breasts to their full 

length again. "Better?" 

 

"It makes it hard to balance with them hoisted out there," Donna said. 

"Will I have to get used to that?" 

 

"It will take a while, but you'll get accustomed. You won't stick out 

quite as far as you did just then! Well, not quite, anyway. I will make 

your bra hold you in a bit more than that. Now, take a seat and I'll get 

busy." 

 

"I think I will have that cold fizzy drink now." 

 

"Bang goes another diet, right?" 

 

"Bang's the word!" said Donna. 

 

 

********** 

 

Duncan hovered while Maggie viewed the pictures of Charlotte. There 

were hundreds. 

 

"I had Geoffrey run off a set of prints for you to take back to Cunis, 

there are so many pictures. Most ill-disciplined of me to shoot so 

many, but the girl was so ... forthcoming, so lively, we just carried 

right on shooting." 

 

"There are some marvellous shots here!" Maggie looked at the rows of 

shots, in underwear and completely nude. "Some of these later ones 

are really rude, Duncan! What on earth were you thinking of?" 

 

"Not her, certainly," said Duncan, huffily. "Brazen hussy. I sometimes 

wonder what the nobility is coming to. The country is going to the 

dogs." 

 

"Whatever you were thinking of, it seems to have worked. She's a hot 

one. Look at these! And that one! Doesn't it make you want to ... well, 

perhaps not. But I wouldn't kick her out of bed." 

 

Duncan looked pained. He opened a cupboard and took out a wad of 

prints almost six inches thick. "There you are. The numbers are on the 

back. It took Geoffrey hours to do that. He seems preoccupied lately. 

He needs a strong partner to take him in hand." 

 

Maggie had a delightfully vivid image of that. She smirked to herself. 

Picking up the stack of prints, she looked at her watch. She could just 

get back to Mrs Danby's by half past one. Excellent!  

 

Duncan offered his cheek as usual. "Thanks Dunc, you can go and 

have a lie-down. Get Debbie to bring you something moist and 

fragrant for your delicate areas". Duncan gave a shudder. "Bye-eee!" 

 

 

********** 

 

"I thought you were coming back at two," Mrs Danby accused her. 

 

"I'm early. Better than being late." 

 

"We're nearly all done anyway. Donna's wearing the first prototype, 

and I'm just running over the other two. Stand up and show Maggie, 

Don!" 

 

Donna got out of the armchair and stood a little unsteadily. She 

seemed about tip over forwards. 

 

"Good grief, girl!" Maggie was disappointed at not seeing Donna 

without her top on, but the sight of her doing serious things to her 

work shirt was some compensation. God, the girl was ... outlandishly 

huge! Was that the right word? 

 

"Mrs D was just telling me about when she was as big as me," said 

Donna. 

 

"She was? She was what?" 

 

"You heard the girl! I used to be as big as her. Much younger, though. 

A bit more chunky, too, not emaciated like young Donna. It's a wonder 

she doesn't snap in half, she's so skinny. No, when I was nine, I 

suddenly grew enormously, just like Donna. About two months is all it 

took. My mother took me to all the doctors and they all said they'd 

never seen anything like it. Well, they had, but only in books. I was a 

curiosity, like a sideshow freak." 

 

"What happened?" Maggie had guessed, but wanted to know how. 

 

"They all said I would carry on growing and everyone would poke fun 

at me, and I would get so huge I would explode or something. Well, 

they got to Donna's size, or thereabouts. Down to here, they were. And 

the doctors said the only thing to do was to chop them off, get rid of 

them." 

 

"Can you believe that, Mags?" Donna had tears in her eyes. "I can't 

imagine having mine cut off. I mean, I hate them sometimes, but 

they're me!" 

 

"So were mine," said Mrs Danby sadly. "They cut them off, and I was 

like a normal kid again, except that all the other girls still made jokes 

about my boobs having gone, and there were all these stitches where 

they had been, and of course, everyone saw them when I had to change 

for PE." 

 

"But girls forget, don't they?" Maggie said. "They couldn't keep on 

ragging you about them, surely?" 

 

"They did. Six months later, my boobs were back. Not as big as before, 

but they were still growing fast, only this time, the right one was about 

half as big again as the left. So this time I wasn't the 'moo-cow', or 

'Frankenstein', I was 'lop-sided Louie'." 

 

"Horrible!" Donna shuddered. 

 

"They whipped me into hospital again, and I came out with little ones. 

In the end, my mother had to move me to another school. It made me 

determined to do something for poor kids with big tits. Nothing I 

could do really, except make proper bras that would support them. I've 

been doing it on and off since I left school, but it's only become a big 

business since I met Ron and got married." 

 

"Does Ron know your story?" Maggie asked. 

 

"Yes, of course. All of it. What really hurts worst of all, though, was 

having two lovely little babies, and not being able to breast feed. Even 

if I'd had tits down to the floor, dragging them round on a pram, I 

would still have been able to feed my babies. But they never gave me 

the chance, the butchers. That's why Jack Henderson is my least 

unfavourite plastic surgeon. He does discourage patients from surgery 

if he thinks they have a chance of getting by and having a normal life 

with their breasts." 

 

Mrs Danby tugged the last thread loose from the machine and bit the 

end off like a punctuation mark. Donna was wiping her eyes. 

 

"Sorry," she said. "It was such a horrid story. All the girls teasing, and 

then the poor babies. Are your children here today, I'd love to see 

them. I do lots of babysitting for pocket money." 

 

"My two would earn you a few pounds, dear. Ricky's nineteen and 

Dolly's seventeen! And no, before you ask. Dolly is only a C cup! I'll 

just wrap these for you and you can be on your way. Maggie's 

obviously champing to be on the road. I'll send the invoice to your 

mother." 

 

"That's all right, I suppose. Somebody else is paying for them anyway. 

Maggie's publishe ...!" 

 

"My magazine is paying. My ladies' magazine." Maggie was flushed 

and stammering. 

 

"Oh, fine." Mrs Danby made a note in her little book. "In that case, 

there's no need for the special discount for first-time clients. Sixty-five 

pounds each sound all right to you, Maggie? A far more realistic price 

than thirty-nine ninety-nine!" 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 12:- Great With Child 

 

"Do you think it's important for a boy to be taller than a girl?" 

Charlotte squirmed uncomfortably in the back seat and sat up, waiting 

for an answer. 

 

Dan was in no condition to reply. Five seconds before, he had been 

crushed beneath Charlotte's formidable weight in the back of his 

Vauxhall. Charlotte was a wonderful creation, enormously tall, 

phenomenally endowed and fabulously rich, but letting her get on top 

had been a mistake. She had bent something, almost broken it. 

 

"Well, Daniel?" She pummelled his chest with both fists, making him 

cough. It was his fault, inflicting this appallingly uncomfortable car on 

her. It had been an adventure at first, persuading Dan to ask her out 

for an afternoon in the countryside. Something to tell the girls, how 

she had seduced this bloke, another model's boyfriend. Better not tell 

Kay, on second thoughts! Anyway, she had taken this bloke out and 

fucked him in a haystack somewhere in Hertfordshire.  

 

Almost right. For haystack, read tacky motor car, stinking of tobacco 

smoke, with a ripped back seat. And he wanted her to get into the back 

seat with him. She had gone along with it, there not being any 

haystacks for miles around. She supposed this was how the children of 

the proletariat were conceived, in the backs of eight year old 

Vauxhalls. Charlotte insisted on being on top, which seemed to take 

Dan by surprise. 

 

It took Charlotte by surprise, too, as she banged her head on the roof 

on every up-stroke. Frustrated, she had disengaged, none too gently, 

and sat up. Vauxhalls were intended for the little people of this world, 

she decided. She got out, standing beside the car in nothing but her 

bra. The biggest bra Dan had ever seen. MILES bigger than Kay's. 

ACRES bigger. The thought of Kay brought a surge of guilt, but the 

sight of Charlotte standing outside the open back door of the car, 

rubbing her hands up and down her mighty flanks, brought a surge of 

something else entirely. Despite the pain in his member, he stiffened 

again and began to clamber out of the car as well. 

 

Charlotte remembered what she saw in this young man. These cars 

may have been designed for little people, and she towered over Dan by 

a good six inches, but he had a good deal more than six inches 

swinging down there between his legs. 

 

"Come here, Trigger!" Charlotte held out her hands to Dan, then 

danced massively backwards as he reached for her. Grasping and 

avoiding, they gavotted through the gateway into the field. It wasn't a 

haystack, but it was at least rural. Charlotte let him catch her, then 

used her superior strength to force him to the ground. He lay on his 

back looking slightly uncomfortable in a patch of fresh mud. 

 

How convenient. A modern day Raleigh. And so erect, despite his 

discomfort. Charlotte licked her lips and lowered herself on to him. 

God, he was a big boy. Thick, too. It took several gentle strokes of the 

moistened tip of Dan's pulsating member before Charlotte was again 

wet enough to accept him. She squatted above him, her powerful 

thighs and calves tensed and well-defined. Then, down, down, up a 

bit, then down, until at last she bottomed out. Not many girls could 

take all that lot, she said to herself between gasps, grunts and pussy 

farts. 

 

Faster went Charlotte, intent on her own pleasure, feeling her ecstasy 

build and build on this slithery prong beneath her. Dan had ceased to 

be. This was a matter for her and a rod of living flesh. She never even 

heard Dan's cries building with her own. All she knew was that this 

was the Big One for the Hon Charlotte fforbes-Davenport. 

 

"Oooargh! Woof! Ooorgh! Yes! Yesss! YESSS!!! Aaaaieeee!" For 

miles around, curtains twitched as worthy citizens looked out of their 

windows for the source of this mighty noise. This was truly the sound 

of a Lady of Quality getting massively shafted. Charlotte sank down on 

her haunches with Dan still inside her, slowly softening. She farted 

massively twice and relaxed her loins. Jesus, she was wet! 

 

Extremely wet! 

 

"You BASTARD!"  

 

Charlotte tore herself free, wringing a yelp from Dan. She stood up, 

feeling the trickle of fluids down her thighs. Hers, certainly, and his. 

The evidence was there for all to see. 

 

"You FUCKING bastard!" She stormed out of the gate and began 

climbing into her clothes, tossed frantically into the front seat so many 

minutes before. Dan had still not appeared. He was still on his back in 

the mud, exhausted by his ordeal at the hands of Charlotte. "Fuck you, 

whatever your fucking name is," she cried in her cultured tones. 

 

Battered it may have been, but the Vauxhall started immediately, and 

roared away down the road to the station. Only when Charlotte was 

safely on the London train; glaring belligerently back at the few other 

passengers until they blushed and looked away, feeling the wet patch 

seep through her silk panties; did she realise the implications of what 

had just happened. With a sick feeling, she counted back over the 

days. Almost two weeks. 

 

"You bastard," she muttered fiercely, to the horrified delight of her 

fellow travellers. A beautiful redhead, over six feet tall, built like a 

brick shit-house, tits like vastly overgrown pumpkins, bits of dried 

grass in her hair, stinking like a Turkish whore's parlour, effing and 

blinding away in a Roedean accent. What more could anyone wish for? 

 

"You fucking bastard. Well, Daddy. It serves you right if I do have a 

fucking sprog. Serves you fucking well right!" 

 

 

********** 

 

"How's it going, Chief?" 

 

"Not heard yet from BJ in the States. The August issue of 

HUMUNGOUS! is on the news stands, the one with Kay in it. He was 

going to call us as soon as GROSS appeared." 

 

"They'll never have anything to match Kay's layout. Even the printers 

have excelled themselves this time. That shot with the wet spot on her 

panties really showed up a treat!" 

 

"Who wrote the words for that, by the way, Mags? A little over the top, 

I thought ..." 

 

"Thanks for your endorsement, Chief. Always good to have a 

superior's support." 

 

"I just wondered whether our sophisticated readership needed telling 

that Kay was a naughty little girl, that's all!" 

 

"It was the expression on her face. She looked so utterly and 

completely turned on, somehow. And with those tits of hers, it was too 

good an opportunity to miss." 

 

"I suppose we'll get the usual readers' letters casting doubts on her 

measurements. You know the sort of thing, 'why, oh why, can't you 

show models measuring themselves with a tape measure?' In every 

layout? It might get a bit monotonous." 

 

"It's an idea, though. How about one of the girls wearing Mrs Danby's 

Bertha apparatus? It looks a bit kinky, but it could make a nice little 

feature. We could use Kay again for a follow-up. It's a pity about 

Charlotte, really." 

 

Wilma nodded glumly. "Luck of the game, I suppose. There was 

always the risk of one of the girls getting pregnant. I'd have thought 

Charlotte would have had more sense, that's all! Young Lynda, more 

likely. How about the others, anyway? When BJ comes on the phone, 

he is going to want to know about the latest figures for clothing costs." 

 

"Lynda has been back to Mrs D again this week. New bras. So that's 

her first new ones since we took her on, three months ago. Her mum 

says she's three inches bigger." 

 

"As well she doesn't know about Donna's growth bonus! How is Mrs 

Danby these days?" 

 

"I don't really think she's really quite forgiven me for posing as a 

woman's mag writer. It must have been a shock to her system when the 

news came out that we were from HUMUNGOUS! and Lynda, 

Charlotte, Kay and Donna were all working for us! She had been 

looking forward to some genteel publicity in a respected women's 

journal." 

 

"I dare say the little gift from BJ helped soften the blow. Now, how 

about Donna?" 

 

"Still getting bigger. She had a seventy-one inch bust when she saw 

Mrs Danby the first time." Maggie consulted a scribbled note torn 

from Mrs Danby's notebook. "In June, she was seventy-two, then 

seventy-four in July. Last week, she was up to seventy-six. That's 

ninety pounds bonus already in three months. Even if she gets no 

bigger, that will be four hundred and ninety pounds extra for her first 

year. That Laura Fielding is a shrewd operator." 

 

"Worth every penny, though. I bet Donna looks incredible now. Is she 

still as slim elsewhere?" 

 

Maggie nodded dreamily. "When I saw her last, yes. And she'd just 

had her hair done. I could willingly have taken her to bed, no 

questions asked." 

 

"You really are a disgraceful slut, Margaret. How about Kay? Any 

progress?" 

 

"An inch bigger than in her first layout. And a bit of scandal. Don't 

tell anyone." She lowered her voice even though they were alone in 

Wilma's office. "You know how she dumped her Dan after she found 

out about him and Charlotte?" 

 

"Yes, go on!" 

 

"Well, she's been seeing another boy. Guess who ...!" 

 

"Oh, God, Mags! Get on with it. How would I know who? Prince 

Charles?" 

 

"No, better than that. Ricky Danby!" 

 

"Ricky? Mrs Danby's son? How did she meet him?" 

 

"Very romantic apparently. She had been visiting Mrs D, and Ricky 

was watching her come and go. In the end, he got her number and 

gave her a call, and made some corny excuse to deliver her latest bra 

to her place. And they seem to have hit it off straight away! Too 

schmaltzy, right?" 

 

"Don't call us, Mags, we'll let you know! But what do you know? Vast 

Bust Model In True Romance Scandal. What about the Hon Charlotte, 

the no-good baggage?" 

 

"Not heard from her personally. She's keeping a low profile. I think 

her Daddy has threatened to cut off her allowance if she doesn't sort 

herself out. But she has made an appointment with Mrs Danby for two 

days' time, apparently. I think I might just manage to get along there!" 

 

"I wish I could join you, but I'm seeing the bank that day. Her contract 

still stands, of course, pregnant or not. She'll have the baby and still 

only be eighteen, so she's still with us for the next three years. So 

when she gets her figure back, who knows?" 

 

"I'll remind her when I see her, Chief. Meanwhile, how about ..." 

 

The phone trilled and Wilma reached for it. She mouthed the words 

'BJ' to Maggie, then listened to the voice at the other end. It seemed to 

go on for some time. At last, Wilma got a word in. 

 

"No, it's the first we've heard that anything is going on. She's been 

behaving normally, seeing our bra maker as usual. Yes, of course we'll 

check. You're certain it's her ...?" 

 

She put the phone down at last, and buried her face in her hands. 

 

Maggie said nothing, knowing her chief, knowing when to keep quiet. 

 

Wilma looked up wearily. "The August GROSS has come out. The 

front cover, and an eleven page layout feature a new model. It's 

Lynda!" 

 

"Lynda? Our Lynda?" 

 

"Lynda Mae Sutcliffe, they've used a false name. Leigh Delamere, 

would you believe?" 

 

"But that's a service station on the M4 ...!" 

 

"It would be funny if it wasn't so fucking serious. He's faxing the pages 

to us, but BJ is certain it's her. An outdoor layout, apparently. In a 

cornfield, or something. There goes the fax now." 

 

 

********** 

 

"It's her all right. Look at this, Mags. Even the measurements are 

authentic. 'Leigh Delamere, eighteen last Thursday, is five feet eight 

tall and a staggering 63-25-38!'" 

 

Maggie groaned and turned over the next fax sheet as it emerged from 

the machine. Oh, my God, here's the front cover. There's a Danby bra 

if you ever saw one. Too small for the girl, but unmistakeably a Danby. 

What are we going to do? What does BJ say?" 

 

"He's not best pleased, I can tell you. We'd all pinned our hopes on 

this: BJ as much as any of us. It's not the money. It's only cost him a 

few hundred for each of the girls so far. But the damage to 

HUMUNGOUS! is going to be harder to work out. Kay was a minor 

sensation this month, but even from the fax, in black and white, you 

can see that Lynda knocks her sideways, even though she is ten inches 

smaller up top. Lynda is so much more natural, look at her. That 

gorgeous sulky little-girl face, those bee-stung lips! What she'll be like 

in another four years just doesn't bear thinking about." 

 

"What are we going to do about her now? She'll have to go." 

 

"We've got to stop her appearing in GROSS again. Or anywhere else 

for that matter. She's no use to Cunis any more. But we can't complain 

without blowing the whole story about the other girls. Two of them are 

still under age, although Charlotte is eighteen in a month. It would be 

a blow to our whiter-than-white image. All we can do is damage 

limitation. Make sure this is the last ever layout of Lynda, anywhere." 

 

"I wonder who took these shots?" Maggie leafed through the fax 

sheets. "Professional quality. And somebody who seems to know her 

quite well." 

 

"Duncan wouldn't ...?" 

 

"Not Duncan!" 

 

"We'll have to call her in to the office. And her mother. Terminate her 

contract. By the time we arrange that, we can have a copy of GROSS 

to confront her with, and she'll spill the whole mess of beans about the 

photographer. He'll never work again, if I have my way." 

 

"Do you think she will, Chief? I've met her a few times, and she 

doesn't really talk. I mean, not like Donna, who talks the hind leg off a 

donkey, Lynda is more sort of a sullen teenager. If we have her in 

here, I don't think we'll get through to her at all. We can sack her, 

sure, but it won't get us any closer to finding out who took the pictures. 

And if we don't find out - and we can't tell the world the truth about 

her age - I wouldn't mind betting that this isn't the last we'll see of 

young Lynda in GROSS. They've probably already got more of her 

pictures in their sweaty little hands." 

 

"Who's their guy in this country?" 

 

"Bloke called Hilton Paark. South African creep." 

 

"Hilton Paark? Isn't that another ...?" 

 

"Motorway service station. He probably dreamed up Lynda's ridiculous 

Leigh Delamere name as well. I bet the photographer's called Watford 

Gap, or something!" Maggie stood up and paced around the office, her 

full breasts bouncing heavily. "Shit, this bra's lovely and comfortable, 

but it feels as if it's getting too small!" 

 

"Not you as well! We'll have you posing for HUMUNGOUS! yet." 

 

"If you could put a bag over my head. Perhaps GROSS would be 

interested. Look, Chief. I know we need to act quickly on this Lynda 

business, but is a few more days really going to make all that much 

difference? I've got an idea to get the little minx to talk." 

 

Wilma opened her mouth to ask, then changed her mind. Trust 

Maggie, she thought. The girl was good. Busty, too. There was no 

doubt, she was bigger these last few months. Another year like this 

and she would be HUMUNGOUS! material, with a bag over her head 

or not. Why was she growing? Maggie, pregnant? What a lovely 

thought! 

 

Pregnant? An idea struck Wilma between the eyes with the force of a 

thunderbolt. 

 

"Mags, darling! It's all yours. Do what you have to, but persuade 

Lynda to tell all. But before you start, we need to fight back with some 

big guns of our own. Get me Charlotte fforbes-Davenport!" 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 13:- HUMUNGOUS! Goes To War 

 

"Wilma, I can't! I simply can't! Not only would Daddy kill me and cut 

me off without a penny to my already worthless and discredited name, 

but I look an absolute sight! You haven't seen me for simply months!" 

 

Charlotte sounded distinctly reluctant. 

 

"Charlotte, darling, you're only three months pregnant. You're 

probably positively blooming with good health. And we need you right 

now. I can't explain on the phone, but it is very important. Vitally 

important for the whole future of HUMUNGOUS! as well as the future 

of your contract with us." 

 

"Wilma, I've been thinking about that. You don't really want me to 

model any more, not after the baby. I'll be simply gross and ugly. Let's 

just call it a day, and you needn't owe me a penny for the pictures you 

already took of me." 

 

"They're due out in the next issue, September. That's all history. We're 

working on October's now. But something's come up. We've been 

dumped on, and we need to fight back. And you're our best weapon." 

 

"Me? I don't believe this! And you aren't going to believe it either, 

until you've seen me." 

 

"Charlotte, will you let me be the judge of that. Or Maggie. You're 

seeing Mrs Danby in two days time?" 

 

Charlotte was taken aback. "Yes. How did you ...?" 

 

"Maggie is free that day. Let her meet you at Mrs Danby's. She will 

explain everything. Trust me, Charlotte, I wouldn't be asking you to 

model again if it wasn't absolutely desperate! And it will be extra 

money, of course. Not that it matters to you as much as it might ..." 

 

"How much?" 

 

It was Wilma's turn to be surprised. She hadn't really expected any 

reaction from Charlotte. She back-tracked. "I'd have to speak to BJ, it's 

not something we've discussed. But it would be useful to have a little 

back-up if your allowance should ever ..." 

 

"I'll see Maggie at Mrs Danby's. No promises, mind. But if your 

readers are kinky enough to fancy me, the way I look at the moment, 

the word 'desperate' doesn't even begin to sum them up!" 

 

 

********** 

 

"It's all arranged, chief. Keep your fingers crossed for Friday." 

 

"Friday? You're meeting Charlotte at Mrs Danby's on Wednesday. I 

wanted to talk to you about it." 

 

"Don't you want to hear about Friday, first?" 

 

"I'd rather tell you about Charlotte." 

 

Wilma told her. 

 

"Offer her an extra five hundred. Don't go over a thousand. It doesn't 

matter how fat and horrible she looks: Duncan can get round it 

somehow. So long as her boobs are bigger than they were in the 

September layout. The plan is that we change the text to promise the 

readers that Charlotte will be back in a month's time - with some 

dramatic changes to her body! That ought to hook them. She doesn't 

want to do it, but I told how desperate it was. Funnily enough, the 

mention of money seemed to change her mind. Perhaps she's hard up. 

Daddy wouldn't have cut her allowance off completely, but he might 

have applied the squeeze to teach the filly a lesson." 

 

"I'm on it, Chief. I was quite looking forward to seeing her, anyway. 

The opportunity to give away another wad of BJ's money is even more 

of an attraction. I'll keep you posted. When do you want to shoot her?" 

 

"Soonest." 

 

Maggie looked thoughtful. "Do you still want to hear about my plans 

for Lynda? Friday?" 

 

"You're seeing Lynda on Friday? Well done!" 

 

It's not really me that's seeing her. She wouldn't talk to me. But I 

thought she might talk to Donna." 

 

"You've arranged for Donna to see Lynda on Friday?" 

 

"At Duncan's. He's free of bookings. I thought we could get Lynda 

down there for a session on some pretext. Junior fashion shoot or 

something. It wouldn't matter what we said, as long as she came down. 

In fact, I described it as a shoot for a manufacturer of women's shirts 

for the fuller figure. Nothing revealing." 

 

"So Lynda's mum said yes?" 

 

"She did, but Lynda wanted to haggle about the money. I told her she 

was under contract, but suggested there might be a bit of pocket money 

for her. She said okay!" 

 

"Good so far." 

 

"Then I spoke to Donna's mother." 

 

"But, Donna?" 

 

"She's more like Lynda's age. She's shorter than Lynda, and she seems 

more ... innocent, somehow. Lynda might see her as someone she can 

impress. Donna's got much bigger breasts than Lynda, but that needn't 

matter if she doesn't see her undressed. And even if she does, it's not 

the end of the world. Anyway, I told Donna what we want her to do, 

and she loved the idea. I had to tell her the whole story, though ..." 

 

"It would have come out sometime anyway ..." 

 

"And when I told her we needed her to do a bit of detective work, her 

mother wanted an extra two hundred and fifty pounds!" 

 

"Jeez, the mercenary bitch!" 

 

"And since, for the cover story to be really complete, Donna was going 

to have to actually do some modelling, she insisted on an extra two 

fifty for that as well. At least, we'll be able to use the shots we get." 

 

"We won't. She's only sixteen. BJ would go hairless." 

 

Well, it's only five hundred altogether, plus a few quid for the girl, and 

we'll be putting a stop to any further appearances by young Lynda in 

our rival publication. I figured it would be worth every penny." 

 

 

********** 

 

Maggie was early, and pacing up and down outside Mrs Danby's. 

Impatient people can't stand being early for an appointment, because it 

means they have to hang around waiting. As a result, they leave 

everything to the last moment, and always arrive late. But Maggie had 

a clear run through the traffic and arrived with ten minutes to spare. 

After pacing around for nine minutes, she ducked back into her car 

and grabbed the phone, meaning to call the chief about some of the 

arrangements for Friday. 

 

As a result, she missed the arrival of the Hon Charlotte fforbes-

Davenport. A silver-grey Mercedes swung into the drive and stopped 

immediately outside the front door. "You may wait, Maxwell, 

darling!" sang out Charlotte in crystal tones, then she disappeared 

indoors. The Mercedes reversed swiftly into a parking space and the 

dishy driver immediately took out a book and pretended to read it, 

while casting an appreciative eye over Maggie's figure, as she sat with 

her legs draped half out of the car door. 

 

She felt distinctly uncomfortable, as if he was undressing her mentally. 

It didn't help when he gave a lecherous grin and slumped down in his 

seat with a little finger-wave to her. Maggie was outraged, and swore 

she would speak severely to Charlotte about her servants' behaviour. 

She opened the front door, which was on the latch, and went in. 

 

Charlotte was still dressed, which from the point of view of impact, 

was just as well. The big girl was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, 

unusually for her, and even Mrs Danby was staring at her in awestruck 

silence. Maggie was right inside the work room before the bra maker 

even noticed her arrival. She failed to greet her, still speechless. 

Maggie was speechless, too. 

 

Charlotte was totally unbelievable. She seemed taller than ever, 

although that was probably the effect of having her hair up on top of 

her head in a rich red, silken coil. Her legs, in the tight jeans, were 

long and marvellously shapely. Her bottom seemed to have swelled 

and become more voluptuous. Maggie was unable to comment on her 

waist. It was not available for scrutiny. 

 

"Hi, Maggie, Maxwell said he saw your car outside, and I wondered 

where you were." 

 

"I ... I was on the phone ..." 

 

Mrs Danby recovered her tongue. "I think I need a cup of tea," she 

muttered inadequately, and edged away to switch on the kettle, looking 

back over her shoulder as if she feared Charlotte might disappear in a 

puff of smoke. It would certainly have been a huge puff of smoke. 

 

Her bust was preposterously huge! Maggie remembered the impact of 

her first face-to-face meeting with the girl. At that time, she had 

previously met Donna and thought she had the biggest breasts she had 

ever seen. Later, she had met Kay, who had been bigger in terms of 

overall size. Then she had met Lynda and had been staggered by the 

schoolgirl's wild beauty and voluptuousness of form. Charlotte had 

been far bigger than any of them. 

 

Gawping open-mouthed at Charlotte, Maggie realised that she now 

made her previous self look undernourished. Was this the effect of 

three months' pregnancy? Clearly it was a bit more than that. Other 

women became pregnant without developing such insanely gigantic 

breasts. Charlotte had been steadily growing before becoming 

pregnant, and she had simply carried on growing. She had grown a bit 

faster, that was all. A bit faster? No, that wasn't quite the right word. 

But there weren't enough words in the English language. Charlotte 

had been immense before. Huge, gargantuan, outrageously developed. 

Now, she was just ... 

 

"Maggie! Wake up! Mrs Danby's been talking to you for five minutes. 

Tea or coffee?" Charlotte gave a delicious giggle and Maggie's loins 

melted. 

 

"Tea, please. No sugar." That T-shirt was ridiculously huge. Obviously 

specially made for her. It was a plain lilac colour, without any lettering 

or design on it. No, wait. As Charlotte half turned, Maggie saw that 

the single tiny word 'BIG' was positioned neatly on the upper side of 

Charlotte's left breast. The word looked tiny, although it was in letters 

four inches high. 

 

The slope of her breasts plunged outwards from her chest at an angle 

of forty five degrees, then gradually became more and more 

precipitous until it was almost vertical. At the same time, her breasts 

thrust out sideways; so they were - fantastically - far, far wider than 

her body from a point about level with her biceps. From there, they 

just got wider and wider. At their fullest point, they were literally 

wider than the doorway. And at that fullest point, they were below the 

level of her waist. The soft, smooth lilac material of the overstuffed T-

shirt was gathered up and tucked into the waist of her jeans: or at 

least, that was what Maggie assumed, as the overhanging masses of 

her breasts completely obscured her waist. From the protrusion of 

Charlotte's nipples, she was obviously not wearing a bra. 

 

Which was presumably why she was here. 

 

Mrs Danby returned with two mugs. She handed them to Maggie and 

Charlotte without a word, then went back for her own, still looking 

back disbelievingly. Charlotte glanced at Maggie and grinned. 

 

"She seems quiet this morning," she whispered. "Something seems to 

have affected her!" 

 

"I wonder what," said Maggie faintly. 

 

Mrs Danby seemed to make an effort. "Right, then. What can we do 

for you, Charlotte?" 

 

It was a very good question. Charlotte smiled. "Either my last bra 

shrunk in the wash, or I've grown a little." She bit her lip and looked 

at Mrs Danby innocently, and Maggie melted a bit more. "I suppose 

you want to see them, don't you?" She toyed negligently with the back 

of her T-shirt where it was tucked in at the waist, pulling it out slightly 

before pausing. 

 

"Er, yes, please," said Mrs Danby, not her usual self at all. 

 

Charlotte pulled the shirt out of her jeans at the back in a series of 

little tugs with both hands. "I'll have to be careful when I get round to 

the front," she said. "It's easier getting dressed, I had some assistance 

from the staff." 

 

Which member of the staff, Maggie wondered, Maxwell the chauffeur? 

Was this how the other half lived? 

 

"Here we go," giggled Charlotte. "Oh, my goodness! Ouch!" Her cry of 

alarm came when she overdid the striptease angle and pulled out more 

of the shirt than she had bargained for. Her left breast forced its way 

out and flopped massively down to its full length, stretching like a 

great water-filled balloon. "Aaargh! That fucking hurts! Sorry, Mrs 

Danby. But that was really so horribly painful. I'll never get used to it." 

 

Nor would Maggie. She gazed at Charlotte, flabbergasted. The breast 

which had escaped now swung like a great cathedral bell, far lower 

than the right one, which was still tucked inside the T-shirt. Charlotte 

clutched at the still-captive one with both hands to stop it getting away 

too. 

 

"Maggie, would you, please ...?" 

 

Maggie didn't really need any more invitation than that. "What do you 

want me to do?" 

 

"Hold my boob with both hands. No, not that one, you dozy twat, this 

one! There, that's right. Until I get my shirt pulled out all the way 

round, then we can let it down gently. Tell me when you're ready." 

 

It felt immense and squidgy, far bigger than Maggie could hope to 

hold, even using both hands and despite its being wrapped up in 

stretchy knitted cotton. She tried cupping it from underneath, and 

succeeded when she used both her forearms as well. "Right," she said, 

"I think I've got you, but be careful." 

 

"I will," Charlotte assured her, and worked her way round the hem of 

the shirt until it was free. "Lower away, Mags. Gently. You might 

need to get down on your knees." 

 

Maggie did. She succeeded until the last few inches, when the giant 

breast slipped free from the shirt and wobbled out of Maggie's 

clutches. Charlotte gave a little grunt of discomfort, but waited until 

Maggie, on her knees, had restrained the twin mountains and using 

both arms, stopped them swaying. Quickly, Charlotte removed the 

shirt and tossed it on the armchair. 

 

"All right, Charlotte?" Maggie asked nervously. "I'll leave them to you 

now, shall I?" 

 

"I have control, Mags," Charlotte smiled, and Maggie stood up 

cautiously. The effect of those fantastically bloated udders was 

staggering. They hung together with a tight cleavage longer than 

Maggie had ever seen. It had to be all of two feet long. The breasts' 

outer edges formed a gentle curve, outwards, out, out and forward. 

Even stretched to their full length like this, Charlotte's breasts were 

still as wide as the doorway. The difference was that this fullest width 

was now level with her hips instead of her waist. And the lewdly-

swollen stalks of her nipples - surrounded by nubbly dark chocolate-

brown areolae which were stretched to fearsome size - pointed directly 

at the floor, down at the level of Charlotte's mid-thigh. 

 

"How ever am I going to measure those, dear?" Mrs Danby shook her 

head hopelessly. "Bertha is miles too small for those things." She 

picked up the measuring harness and looked at it. Fitted with its 

largest support platform, it had not really been big enough even for 

Donna's breasts at their present size. Charlotte's were so much bigger 

than Donna's, twice as big? Twice as heavy? "You'd better come and 

lay them on the bench." 

 

"C'mon, Mags. I'll need a hand. Or two. Maybe even four!" 

 

Between them, with a helping hand from Mrs Danby, they got 

Charlotte's breasts lying side by side on the work bench. She had to 

bend her knees and stick her bottom out. 

 

"Wow, I can't stand like this," she complained, stepping back a little 

way and leaning forward with her arms on the edge of the bench for 

support. For her breasts to go between her arms, she needed to position 

her hands more than two feet apart, so it wasn't easy to support her 

weight. Everything wobbled dangerously. 

 

"Hold the end of the tape, Maggie," said Mrs Danby, recovering some 

of her composure and darting in. "Hold it there, and I'll get round the 

other side. When I say the word again, Charlotte, you assume the 

position and we'll measure you in a few seconds. 

 

Maggie stood close to Charlotte's side, feeling the warmth radiating 

from the young woman's big body. From here, with her breasts 

supported out of the way, her waist was visible at last. It was less 

slender than before, in fact, there was more than a hint of pudginess to 

it. Certainly, if Charlotte was going to wow the readers of 

HUMUNGOUS!, she would have to be photographed as soon as 

possible. On the other hand, perhaps some people liked girls to be 

slightly pudgy. She tried to imagine the effect of this vast girl on the 

front cover of the magazine. It was too much for Maggie to take in: 

Charlotte's breasts were so much bigger than any others she had ever 

seen, she simply could not envisage it at all. 

 

She took the end of the tape and applied it gently, then more firmly, to 

the side of Charlotte's left breast. It felt like a breast, but from here, so 

close, it looked nothing like one. Charlotte bent her knees and braced 

her arms, then looked up into Maggie's eyes and began to giggle. 

Maggie giggled, too, helplessly, and the end of the measuring tape 

escaped from her fingers as soon as Mrs Danby pulled it tight. 

 

"What are you doing, you two?" Mrs Danby yelled, and those two, 

giggling like schoolgirls, cracked up totally.  

 

Maggie, her eyes streaming, suddenly sat on the floor, clutching in 

panic at Charlotte to stop herself falling. She was only partially 

successful. "Aaaagh!" she grunted. 

 

Charlotte took a pace backwards, off balance, and felt the backs of her 

calves come up against Maggie's fallen body. 

 

To Maggie's and Mrs Danby's horror, they saw Charlotte's mammoth 

breasts pulled back toward the edge of the work bench.  

 

"Look out, Char ...!" 

 

As she staggered, out of control, first one, then the other, slipped off 

the bench and fell. They would certainly have hit the floor, given their 

irrestible weight, but Charlotte was still falling backwards on top of 

Maggie. Maggie had nowhere to go. Charlotte's left breast hit her fair 

and square, taking her breath away completely as it thumped into her 

stomach. 

 

It was followed moments later by another impact as Charlotte herself 

arrived from above, squashing Maggie for a second time. Charlotte's 

right breast came along a moment afterwards, landing on top of its 

owner. 

 

"Oh, fucking hell," cried Charlotte, in aristocratic tones. "What did 

you have to do that for, Mags?" 

 

Maggie recovered her breath with an effort. She tried to say 

something, anything, but the sight of Charlotte rolling off her, her 

breasts flopping like great cushions, no, like bean bags, would you 

believe. Bean bags, thought Maggie, and began to giggle again at the 

ridiculous idea. 

 

"You can laugh, you little cow!" Charlotte gave her a well-bred little 

punch on the upper arm, and dragged her body and its various 

accessories into a hands and knees position. Her breasts hung to the 

floor, and would have hung well beyond it if they could. 

 

"Hold it there," Mrs Danby shouted. "Sit back a bit, Charlotte, on your 

haunches, and let your tits rest on the floor in front of you. Give her a 

hand, Maggie! I can measure you like that, without getting you back 

on the bench again." 

 

"Oh, yeah? It's all very well for you. I can't move. Her tit flattened me, 

then she sat on my head." 

 

Maggie had found the experience painful, but arousing, too, as the big 

girl crushed her. Intensely arousing. She could now feel the closeness 

of Charlotte, her light perfume, the scent of her hair, the musk of her 

sex. Wow! Especially her sex. Maggie was getting close to the edge, 

and Charlotte was well aware of it, giggling again, her eyes sparkling. 

 

She sat back as Mrs Danby had suggested, and felt Maggie's now 

sweaty fingers as they helped her balance on her haunches. Once 

more, Maggie applied the tape to Charlotte's breast. This time, there 

was no giggling, only a fizzing electric tension between them, from 

the point of contact, down to the very tips of Charlotte's giantess 

breasts, to the centre of Maggie's moist womanhood. 

 

Here she was, literally touching the biggest breast in the world, and 

she had the absolute certainty that Charlotte wanted her as much as 

she wanted Charlotte.  

 

"Shit! The damned tape's too short!" Mrs Danby stood up, arms 

akimbo, and glared at Charlotte as if it was all her fault. 

 

"Too short," cried Maggie, feeling a fresh flood of juices into her 

underwear. "How can it be too short?" 

 

"It's my nine foot tape. How can anyone be more than a hundred and 

eight bloody inches?" Mrs Danby was sounding uncharacteristically 

distraught. 

 

"Get a longer one!" Maggie was so wet now. 

 

"I haven't got a longer one. I never needed a longer one before. It's 

Charlotte's fault. She's too big!" 

 

"You'll have to do me in stages, then." Charlotte's face was flushed 

with excitement. Maggie's fingers were caressing the back of her 

thigh, probably without realising what they were doing. Both girls 

were breathing raggedly. 

 

"Hold still, we'll try again." Mrs Danby and Maggie held the tape, 

which went around Charlotte's back, and out along the side of 

Charlotte's absurdly huge right breast, then down to where her spiked 

nipple lay erect on the rough carpet tiled floor.  

 

"Don't let go, Maggie, hold the tape there, and just turn it round so it 

points the other way," and Mrs Danby flicked the tape free, pulling it 

down the left breast to the nipple. "Use your other hand, Mags, and 

hold it on her nip." It took Maggie several seconds to drag her other 

hand out from where it was touching Charlotte's burning hot flesh. 

With the tape secure at last, Mrs Danby stretched it across the front to 

the right nipple, where she had ended up from the other direction. 

 

The seconds stretched out to nearly a minute as Mrs Danby completed 

the measuring with shaking hands. "That's sixty-seven plus fifty-two. 

One hundred and nineteen inches! Thanks, Maggie, you can let go 

now. Relax, Charlotte." 

 

Charlotte relaxed, leaning against Maggie. The soft weight of her was 

driving Maggie wild. 

 

"When you've done all the other measurements, Mrs Danby," 

Charlotte said softly, "you won't need me any more, will you? I will 

have to get away. You can bike the bra over later!" 

 

The look she gave Maggie left no doubt at all. "Mags," she drawled, 

"would you mind slipping out and telling Maxwell he's free to go, 

darling? I'm sure you can help me get home later? Afterwards?" 

 

Maggie didn't trust her voice. She just nodded. 

 

 

 

 

 

<end Part IV>