BACK TO SCHOOL AT ST CAT'S

by Some Sort of Dog



WARNING: This warning is slightly different every time, but it says 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. Details are given at the 
end of this story.





BACK TO SCHOOL AT ST CAT'S

by Some Sort of Dog





Part I





Chapter 1:- Back To School


"Is that you, Shan?"

"Mother wants me. The rest of you go on up, I'll see you in a minute." I 
pushed my head round the living room door. Daddy was attempting to 
watch football on television, Mother was doing something in his lap. She 
raised her head.

"Ah, darling! While you were out, Tanya phoned. I told her you were at the 
pub. Anyway, she left a message for you to give her a call. Something 
about her being stuck in Herefordshire?"

"All right, I'll call her from upstairs. I've got Smegs and Baps up there, and 
Orson and a couple of others. Hi, Daddy, who's winning?"

"Hi, Shan, I think it might be Liverpool, but I could have missed a few 
goals."

"Great! See ya."

As I slipped out and closed the door there was an excited shout from 
Daddy, which could have been another goal. Or something else.

They were all draped around the bedroom when I got upstairs. Smegs was 
on her bed, totally pissed and glum-looking. For the benefit of 
Transatlantic readers, 'pissed' in this country means drunk. If I'd meant 
she was unhappy, I would have said she was pissed off. Anyway, she was 
totally rat-arsed. 

Baps was still recognisably sober, just, and Orson looked more or less 
utterly adorable. My loins melted and I began to undress. Mona, Orson's 
sister, moved obligingly off my bed and lowered her bulk to the floor at 
Baps's feet. Baps stroked one of the skinny little creature's humungous 
boobs. Mona moaned, the way she does.

"Shit, I've got to make a call." I eased myself on to Orson's engorged 
maleness. "Chuck the phone over, Smegs."

It arrived, bouncing off my tit, and I tapped out Tanya's Grandma Trudy's 
number. It rang for a while.

"Helloo?"

"Hi, is that Clarrie? It's Miss Gruntworthy. Yeah, Happy New Year to you, 
too. Look, Tanya rang me, I'm returning her call." I imagined Clarrie vast 
tits leading the way as she wobbled off to fetch Tanya. Then the familiar 
husky voice, slightly breathless.

"Tanya, great to hear you. Happy New Year. No, sorry, we were down the 
pub. No, I'm not sorry we were down the pub, although some of us may be 
by the morning. Right, just a few of us. Yeah, he's here now. Oh, yes, VERY 
close! Say hello to Tanya, darling!" I handed the phone to Orson, then 
snatched it back when the conversation started getting altogether too 
smutty. "Yes: Smegs, and Baps, and Mona. A little bit bigger, yes. Well, still 
within the range of that bra, but it's getting tighter all the time!"

I winked at Mona and she grinned in an embarrassed sort of way. "No. 
She's used to people talking about her as if she wasn't there. About six 
inches. No, nothing, really! Anyway, are the girls all ready for school? 
Ready for the trip back? No, what's the problem?"

Ten minutes later, I put the phone down. Everyone was looking at me, 
waiting for an explanation.

"They're fine, but stuck at Grandma Trudy's. Tanya's sister's Paul is scared 
to take the car out on the road after that incident on the way down there. 
He thinks the police are still looking for a car of that description."

Smegs sniffed. "They probably are, you can't have kung-fu female rapists 
terrorising filling station attendants willy-nilly all over the countryside."

"They could escape at night, surely," said Baps. "Stick to motorways and 
main roads, they'd never get stopped."

"That's what they're going to try, but Paul says if they did get stopped, and 
Rumiko and Toria were on board, the shit would hit the fan. Quite a lot of 
shit, and quite a lot of fans."

"Well, the girls have to be back at St Cat's by tomorrow night," Smegs 
grunted. "What are they going to do about that?"

"Tan said she has to stay over there with her sister for another three days, 
for some reason, so she's putting the girls on the train. She wondered if I 
could get on the same train when it came through Fillamore Deepleigh 
Junction, to look after them the rest of the way."

"So I get to drive back to St Cat's on my own?" Smegs was in a complaining 
mood. "I'll have nobody to talk to."

Poor thing.

"We can't have four attractive and well-endowed girls riding around 
unaccompanied on trains, especially since they have to change at Swindon. 
Very well-endowed," I gloomily revised my assessment.

"What did you mean by that?" Baps asked. When it comes to young girls 
getting bigger, she never misses a trick.

"The last part of the conversation I had with Tanya. Apparently Rumiko 
has grown!"

Everyone looked up. "Grown?" Smegs had the grace to look slightly shame-
faced. She had been the one who had sprayed the little Japanese girl 
liberally with something from a bottle.

"Grown! It was boob-juice in that spray. Probably love, or maybe fuck, in 
one bottle, boob-juice in the other. So she's had a drop of both. If both 
mixtures had too much slow-downer in them, it would explain the delay in 
them starting to work. Anyway, Tanya says she grew last night."

"Christ!" Baps sounded genuinely concerned. "The poor little thing. How 
big?"

"Big enough, it seems. Bigger than Suzanne, anyway."

"That's big, all right." Even the worse for drink, Smegs was nobody's fool. 
"At least, her uniform won't be a problem. They've still got all those large 
size blazers to choose from. The new ones with the extra-big badge on the 
extra-big breast pocket."

"But the four of them are going to attract a load of attention on the train. 
So I'll join them, and with any luck, if they run into any breast-crazed 
rapists, the only one they notice will be me."

"I feel sorry for Rumiko, though." Baps was still caressing Mona absently as 
she spoke.

"Oh, there's no need to be sorry for Rumiko. She loves them! They're just 
what she's always wanted. She didn't think they were going to grow 
*quite* as quickly when she came to this country, but she was convinced 
she'd get some big ones sooner or later. Toria's not too pleased, though!"

And that, I thought, would be putting it mildly. Victoria would be thirsting 
for my blood. If I didn't take extra care tomorrow, she would throw my 
body from the train somewhere between here and Swindon. And then 
what would St Cat's do for a Comptroller of Bra Studies, with a 'p', 
naturally, let alone a Sexual Chemistry Mistress?

I noticed people weren't looking at me any more. They seemed to be 
studiously gazing elsewhere.

"What's the matter, Baps? Why are you all looking at the walls and the 
ceiling?"

"It's very difficult to hold a conversation with you, Chauntaille, when you 
are indulging in sexual intercourse with your boyfriend. It is most 
disturbing."

"We're only cuddling," I panted, but at that moment Orson came with a 
great deal of noise, and I was forced to join him in mutual climax.

"That was cuddling?" remarked Smegs. She pretended to be disgusted at 
our behaviour, yet I noticed she had both her hands down the front of her 
jeans. Baps and Mona were trying to swallow each other's tongues, by the 
sound of things. I turned my full attention to Orson again, and managed 
without much difficulty to come twice more in rapid succession.

"Jeez, Shan," he said in open admiration, "your pussy is arguably the 
Number One in the whole of the county."

Was that a compliment, I wondered.


**********

The wind howled round the station platform, whipping up flurries of snow 
whichever way I turned to get away from them. Smegs huddled grimly by 
my side, saying nothing. Why had she been complaining that she'd have 
nobody to talk to? When we *were* together, she said nothing. We could 
have sat in the waiting room, where a fire crackled in the grate, but I felt 
like a bit of martyrdom. Anyway, the train was due. Ten minutes late, in 
fact.

"I bet my nose is red, isn't it?" I asked my bestest friend.

"Not specially, no. When's this train coming? My feet are fuckin' freezing."

"You could always go," I shouted above the howling wind. "You don't have 
to stay and wait."

"I'm keeping you company. If one of us is going to be miserable, it's only 
right that both of us should be."

Thanks, pal.

"Here it comes!" The train hooter sounded in the distance, and people 
started emerging on to the platform, looking curiously at the two young 
women braving the elements. "Come here, misery-guts!" I gave her a long 
cuddle. "See you later, at school."

She hugged me back. Anyone would think we were being parted for the 
next ten years. "There's snow on your hair." She brushed it off. "See you 
later." And she turned round and marched off. Strange girl, Smegs.

The train hissed and moaned to a stop, and hands wiped at the steamy 
windows as the overheated travellers tried to see what hole-in-the-ground 
place they had stopped at now. I looked up and down the length of the 
train and saw Suzanne waving from an open doorway.

"Woo-wee, Miss!" I ran in her direction, holding on to my tits in case they 
got away, and squeezed through the doorway with my bag. It was hot in 
the train, and Suzanne was in her blazer and skirt. "Hi, Miss, we're along 
here." She led the way along the centre aisle of the carriage. "We saved you 
a seat," she shouted over her shoulder, as the lights started to flash past 
the windows. The train had started, and I hadn't even waved to Smegs. 
"Here we are. I got her," she told the others.

They greeted me in their various ways. Toria nodded briefly and stared 
out of the window, Pansy grinned and said 'Hi'. Rumiko stood up and 
bowed. Oh, my God, I thought, look at her! She was wearing one of the new, 
large blazers, unbuttoned, and a shirt which was intended for someone 
larger all over than her. It was too big around the neck. By contrast, it 
wasn't big enough in the body, and a riot of radial creases splayed out 
from the points of her nipples. At least, they had found a bra to fit her, 
more or less. Her St Cat's necktie was one of the standard-length ones, so it 
reached to the peak of her bust, but didn't reach very far down in front. 
Rumiko showed signs of having been outfitted against a tight deadline.

The other girls were staring: obviously, they hadn't yet become 
accustomed to Rumiko's new and extravagant development. Suzanne and 
Pansy looked at her without envy or any other emotion than interest. 
Victoria turned from the window to look, and an expression of jealousy 
and anger crossed her face before she returned to studying the snowscape 
out in the gathering dusk.

Other passengers were staring too, nudging each other as I gave a little 
bow of my own, not really knowing what else to do, and motioning for 
Rumiko to sit down.

"I have monster tits now," she informed me superfluously, with a smile. 
There was a snort from Victoria. "I am as Engrish giru, Just Pray Miss."

"They look very nice, Rumiko." I had to say something.

"That's what we keep telling her, Miss," said Pansy. "But I don't think Toria 
agrees with us."

"There's nothing nice about having enormous great tits," muttered Victoria, 
speaking for the first time. I felt a bit sorry for her. Despite my efforts, she 
had finished up with nothing. Smegs's attentions to Rumiko with the boob-
juice had only made things a hundred times worse for Victoria.

The train rattled on, it was now dark outside, and the windows were dirty, 
so Victoria found there was nothing to see but the reflection of the train's 
brightly lit interior. Unwillingly, she looked straight ahead of her, and 
closed her eyes. Next time I looked at her, a tear trickled down her cheek. 
Furiously, she dashed it away, and curled up in the corner of her seat, with 
her face to the side of the carriage.

I thought of something, and rooted around in my bag, coming up 
triumphantly with a bag of Mother's special chocolate chip cookies. Her 
own recipe. I'll let you have it one day, but not now.

Pansy took one eagerly, Suzanne took two. Rumiko looked uncertain, but 
took a cautious bite, then beamed with pleasure. "Nice!"

"Toria?" I offered her the bag, and she reluctantly turned round, prepared 
to refuse. But she couldn't turn down one of Mother's chocolate chip 
cookies. No one could. "Go on. Take a couple."

"Are we near Swindon yet?" Victoria scrubbed at the steamy glass with 
her hankie, then inspected the grubby little square of white linen. "Shit!" 
Signs of recovery, at last.


**********

I said goodbye to the girls and watched them as they made their way to 
their dormitories with their bags. Rumiko was going to find things a bit 
strange round here. With a sigh, I turned and lugged my bag up the 
stairway to my own little room . The window looked out across the school 
buildings to the playing field with its tall smoking chimney and the bright 
lights of the pantie-soilery, still working flat-out to satisfy demand.

There was a message tucked into the corner of the mirror.

'See me as soon as you arrive - Moggie'

Can't be anything too terrible if she signed herself 'Moggie', I thought, 
taking my damp outdoor clothes off and slipping into the knitted sweater 
dress. "Ouch, are all my things getting tighter round the hips? Too much 
eating at Christmas, Shan, and far, far too much fucking." I felt a rush of 
warmth and thought I'd pissed myself, but realised it was only love.

Moggie could wait ten more minutes. I dialled Orson's number and came 
instantly when he answered. Bloody hell, I thought, this must be what they 
call phone sex.

"Hello, Orse!"

No need to bore you with the details of the conversation, it was the usual 
stuff, sex and endearments, and I'm afraid if anyone had burst into my 
room they would have found me with my spare hand busy up the skirt of 
my dress, doing things to myself.

It was Smegs, in fact. She came in, saw I was on the phone, and sat on the 
bed to wait. Then she saw what I was doing, and kindly came over to help. 
It left me with both hands free, so I gave her a little wet peck on the cheek 
and slipped a spare hand down the neckline of her sweater, which was a 
reasonably satisfactory idea, because she wasn't wearing anything 
underneath.

"Sorry about the heavy breathing, Orson, Smegs is helping me out." At that 
instant, we both came in the most copious manner imaginable. If this was 
the start of the new term at St Cat's, I was all for it. Finally, I put the 
phone down and gave Smegs my fullest attention for ten more lust-packed 
minutes. We sat up at last, quivering with passion.

"Fuckin' hell. I only came in to borrow a spoonful of sugar."

"Help yourself. Unless you'd prefer honey?"

"I would gladly sweeten my coffee with the honey that drips from your 
moist snatch," Smegs purred, running her fingers through the short hairs at 
the nape of my neck. Sometimes she says the nicest things.

"Did you get a note to see Moggie?" I had almost my entire hand inside her 
slippery lust-chasm.

"Sorry?" She sounded preoccupied.

"Moggie. Did she leave a note for you to see her? I was just about to go 
along there when I decided to call Orson."

"Oh, Moggie. Yes. Shall we go now. Then we can carry on later."

Sounded like a good scheme to me.

"No need to shower first, Moggie will understand."





Chapter 2:- Just Pray Miss


We walked hand in hand along to Moggie's room, stopping occasionally for 
a snog and a grope. The journey only took ten minutes.

"Good evening, girls," said Moggie, brightly. "Good Hols? Ready for the new 
term? You both look extremely flushed, I see, and if my nose doesn't 
deceive me, you are in the middle of a lesbian lust session."

"Oh, yes, Miss," I said, gushingly. Literally gushingly, I'm afraid. Moggie 
tossed me a large towel.

"Mop it up with that, then put it in the basket by the door. It goes to the 
soilery for juice extraction." I complied, slightly shame-faced. "Now then," 
she went on as I removed my knickers and dropped them into the basket 
in a cloud of steam. "I wanted to see you both with regard to St Cat's and 
our new International Image."

"Our what, Miss?"

"I've decided to throw open our doors to the whole of the world," she 
boomed, getting up and striding around the room. Her nipples quickly 
became erect as a sign of her arousal. Smegs and I both watched them as 
she turned at the end of her Axminster rug and retraced her steps. At each 
lap, her nipples became, unbelievably, larger.

"St Cat's new prospectus will be sent to every civilised country in a bid to 
attract girls from every corner of the globe!" Little patches of moisture 
were forming at the tips of her breasts, several feet ahead of her chest. 
Like a dinosaur, the damp feeling was taking its time reaching her brain. 
"Excuse me." She opened a cupboard and took out a stainless steel bucket. I 
recognised it as being from the old St Cat's Dairy.

Smegs held the bucket at the required angle as Moggie opened her shirt 
and unsnapped a panel in the front of her nursing bra. The milk made a 
ringing noise as it squirted into the pail. She raised her voice so we could 
hear her.

"Already, we have received applications from a number of countries. We 
are having some of them translated now. Oooh, that's so good!" She moaned 
in ecstasy and we looked away so as not to cause her unnecessary 
embarrassment. "By next year, St Cat's ought to be truly international. We 
will make an exception in the case of international students, and admit 
them at the start of any term, not just at the start of the school year. So I 
want you both to be ready when we throw ourselves open!"

I was ready to throw myself open right now. The sight of Moggie getting 
off with the milk-bucket was making me even hornier than I had been 
before we had come to see the headmistress, and Smegs was the same, I 
could tell by the erection of her nipples inside her sweater. Hurry up. 
Moggie, please!

"As a start, we already have an international student, whom you have both 
met. I would like you both to be present when the press meets Rumiko 
first thing tomorrow morning."

"First thing?" Smegs looked at me anxiously. "How much of the press will 
be here?"

"Just the local papers. And one or two of the quality nationals. A couple of 
tabloids are sending a photographer and a reporter. The Sunday papers. 
Television, of course. The usual. Just a little piece on Rumiko settling in at 
St Cat's." Her expression became dreamy and she raised her eyes to the 
heavens.

"I can see her, this tiny, delicate porcelain-skinned creature, child of the 
mysterious East, her rich, lush black hair, her tiny feet, her hands, her 
graceful, tiny-breasted figure ..."

"Er, Moggie..."

"In a minute, Megan, please. Where was I? Set against the St Cat's badge on 
the side of the building, this tiny figure making her way in the world with 
the help of St Cat's and St Cat's alone ..."

"Miss ..."

"Shan, please don't interrupt. She will appear in every news broadcast, on 
every front page. Her parents, back home in far-off foreign parts, will see 
her picture and swell with pride. Yes, what is it?"

"Swelling with pride, Miss. As far as Rumiko goes, we're a bit late."

"She's already swelled," said Smegs, a little too abruptly.

"She's ... what?" Moggie looked at us and a squirt of milk missed the pail 
and splashed unheeded on the rug.

"Rumiko's breasts have grown," admitted Smegs. "She's a bit big. In fact, 
she's abso- fuckin'-lutely enormous!"

"You can't be telling me this. Surely not. Japanese girls don't have big 
breasts. It's part of their unique charm."

"Rumiko does. It's very much a part of hers."

"But what can we do? It's too late to turn away the media now. They'd 
suspect something terrible and concoct a story out of it anyway. Can I see 
her? Get her up here, now."

I tried to break the news to her gently. "All right, but it's not altogether a 
pretty sight. She is very big indeed, and they haven't had a chance to find 
her a proper uniform. She looks like a sack of spuds tied in the middle, and 
her tits stick out about a mile and a half. She won't look at her best on 
telly, that's for sure."

"Send for her, Shan, please. I must see for myself." Moggie sounded utterly 
doomed.


**********

"I thought it would have been Victoria who brought Rumiko over", I said.

"She's not feeling well, Miss," said Suzanne.

"She's got one of her headaches," explained Pansy. "So we brought her."

Rumiko bowed to me, "Ah, Just Pray Miss." I would have to do something 
about that title.

"Rumiko, this is the headmistress, Miss Thunderbolt, Miss Thunderbolt, 
Rumiko Tsujimoto."

Moggie bowed, strangely. "Miss Tsujimoto, a pleasure. Welcome to St Cat's!"

"Ah, monster titties, Miss Thunnerboru!" Rumiko's English was improving 
by the minute. Moggie blushed prettily. "An' now, I too, have monster 
titties, simira Engrish giru."

Speaking personally, I would be happier when her English improved even 
more, as it would make typing and spell-checking a whole lot easier.

Moggie walked around Rumiko, who stood beaming happily. The 
headmistress shook her head. "We could find a better shirt and blazer, 
perhaps, among the Lower Sixth girls. And a longer tie, of course. Perhaps 
it would be better if we didn't try to cover this up. Let's make a virtue out 
of a necessity. Rumiko has monster titties, let the world see them. Give the 
punters something to remember St Cat's by."

That's the spirit, I thought. Go for it, Moggie. Always at her best with her 
back to the wall. Or the carpet.

She seemed to notice Suzanne and Pansy for the first time. Perhaps it was 
something to do with the way the two First Formers had thrust their own 
chests out when the talk turned to monster titties.

"Have you girls grown as well?" Moggie demanded, peering at them over 
her reading glasses.

"Yes, Miss," said Suzanne. "I'm by far the biggest," she said modestly, apart 
from Rumiko, but she *is* fourteen, Miss, when all's said and done, as my 
Mum said. Mum says I'm losing my puppy fat, too, Miss, so it shows all the 
more. Even so, Miss, sixty-four inches is pretty big, by any standards, my 
Mum says. Pansy's grown, too, of course, but Toria's still very much the 
same size. She doesn't seem too pleased about that, Miss."

Oh, do shut up, girl, I thought, you are becoming a right little pain in the 
arse.

"What has been happening over Christmas?" Moggie wanted to know. For 
some reason, she asked ME.

"These two are perfectly natural." Pansy and Suzanne inflated with pride. 
"We don't know about Rumiko, it might be a sudden spurt of growth. These 
things happen. But there was a bit of chemical activity over the holiday." 
She would be bound to find out sooner or later, better tell her now.

Moggie nodded, understandingly. "Anything worth mentioning?"

"Just routine breast enlargement stuff," I reported, "a bit of unscheduled 
fucking, and I seem to have become Uncontrollably Horny, but there were 
a couple of girls. A woman and a girl, actually."

"How big?"

"The woman was a skinny little thing, and she's bigger than Megan now, by 
about a foot or so." Moggie raised an eyebrow and Smegs looked daggers at 
me. "The girl is Baps's sister, from the girl dairy?" Moggie nodded. "She's 
become really immense, and she's only ..."

"You're right," Moggie broke in, "she's no age at all! So!" She turned to 
Rumiko again, and they bowed to each other a few times. "Tomorrow," 
Moggie shouted, "tomorrow, you meet papers, terry camera ..." She mimed 
a hand-cranked shoulder-mounted motion-picture camera of a type 
possibly last used in action during World War Two. Rumiko nodded 
knowledgeably.

"Tomorrow!"

"But first. First, we find you uniform. Clothes! Shirt! Blazer!"

"Hai, brazer!"

"That's right!" Moggie snapped. She was getting through at last. "Brazer. For 
Rumiko!"

"Miss Thunnerboru, I aready have brazer." Swiftly, she unbuttoned her 
blouse and revealed a lurid burnt-orange bra. "Brazer," she told us 
proudly.

"No, Rumiko. That Brassiere. Blazer jacket, big badge, breast!"

Rumiko nodded vigorously. "Brazer!" She cupped her improbable breast. 
"Breast!"

They bowed again.

"There you are, you see. It's just a question of communication when it 
comes to dealing with foreigners. St Cat's will surely become a benchmark 
in international education, the standard against which all others will be 
judged. Can you help her find some gear? Raid the Sixth Form dorm, there 
should be someone there by now."


**********

There was, all right. The Lower Sixth dormitory was a hive of sexual 
activity. Girls were renewing Auld Acquaintance after the New Year, to the 
extent of three or more in some of the beds. We stood aghast in the centre 
of the room as a riot of finger-fucking, nipple-sucking and other delights 
raged all around us.

Suddenly, a head emerged from beneath the sheets.

"Hold it, girls, visitors!"

Groans broke out, and faces emerged, flushed, from numerous beds. At 
least, they were all girls, there obviously hadn't been time to get any boys 
in yet.

"Hi, Miss! Good Hols?"

"Thank you, Sarita, excellent!"

They studied Rumiko with interest, some of them comparing their own 
development with the Japanese newcomer.

"Fuckin' shit, Miss, she's big for a Chinese ..."

"Rumiko is Japanese, Ethelreda, and your language is appalling for such a 
wondrously pretty girl with such magnificent breasts!"

Ethelreda blushed prettily and said, "Sorry, Miss. Sorry, Rumiko."

Rumiko bowed, and so did most of the girls, despite their being in bed.

"Right, we need shirts in Rumiko's size, please. You, Ishbel, you seem to be 
the same size."

Ishbel got out of bed and stood up, unnervingly naked. "I was the right 
size, Miss, but I'm pregnant, and my boobs have grown rather." She spoke 
with the soft lilt of the Highlands. I'd always imagined they preferred 
sheep up there.

"Golly, so you are. Congratulations! What are you hoping for?"

"Boys, Miss. So's Fraser, he wants all boys. Less trouble, he says. Anyway, 
I've grown out of all my shirts and skirts, Rumiko can have all mine."

"That's very kind of you my dear. When's baby due?" Ishbel was piling 
clothes on the bed, and Rumiko, grasping the idea, was stripping off to 
little gasps of appreciation from the crowd.

"May, Miss, or early June. With any luck, I'll get pregnant again straight 
away and have another by my birthday next February. Here y'are, Rumi, 
try these for size!"

The shirts and skirts fitted Rumiko perfectly. I was not alone in my 
overpowering feelings of lust as I watched the girl's perfectly formed body 
with its outrageous boobs disappear inside the St Cat's uniform once more. 
She fastened the buttons, then twirled like a catwalk model to display 
herself. A low growl of animal passion rose from thirty female throats. 
That was twenty-nine girls plus one teacher.

She was certainly going to make a hit with the nation's media.

"Come along, Rumiko, let me take you back to your dorm." I offered her my 
arm.

"No necessary, Just Pray Miss!" She gathered up her bundle of clothes and 
clutched them to her chest. "I find the way mysef. You stay, make sex with 
giru?"

She slipped out, after bows all round. Well, as ideas go, hers wasn't a bad 
one. A number of girls were holding back their bedsheets in subtle 
invitation.

"You don't have to go, Miss!"

"Stay and show us how to dove-fuck, Miss!"

"Oh, Miss, sleep with ME, please!"

"Some other time," I laughed, backing out of the door. Five seconds later, I 
was tearing down Smegs's door.

"What kept you?" She helped me with my clothes.

It's great to be back at school.





Chapter 3:- The Press Conference


Quite why a small-time girls' school in the middle of the countryside 
should prove to be a Mecca for the entire nation's media on a chilly 
Tuesday morning in January was anyone's guess. The story was a slim 
enough affair: the headmistress had phoned and faxed everyone she could 
think of to tell them that her private school, St Catherine's High School for 
Girls, was about to offer places to students from other countries. An 
unremarkable story at the best of times.

Perhaps it was a quiet week for news. Perhaps someone in the office had 
heard of St Cat's before in some context. Wasn't that the school that burned 
down a few years back? Girl did a strip in front of the blazing buildings? 
Big-titted girl? Grunt something. Gruntworthy. "Yeah, here it is, chief! Well 
remembered!"

Wasn't it the school that was tied up in some way with those schoolgirls 
who ran amok in the nearby town, wearing obscenely short skirts, 
shagging every male in sight? The school where they had a dairy, alleged 
to use real girls instead of cows? The place where they are believed to 
make chemicals that cause Uncontrollable Horniness and huge breasts, 
where they sell used panties in forty-seven different countries? "Oh, come 
on, chief! You old buffers don't half get carried away sometimes!"

Whatever, they turned up in their droves, and the police had to organise 
the traffic at the main gate. One or two parents, rather than subject their 
darling daughters to public transport, had chosen to deliver them in person 
on the first day of term, and they found themselves in a traffic jam 
stretching for miles through the country lanes around St Cat's. And when 
they got through the gate, they became snarled up with news crews and 
photographers filming and snapping everything they could find in one of 
those wonderfully abbreviated St Cat's skirts.

It was perhaps a mistake to hold this press conference, photo-opportunity, 
briefing, call it what you will, on the first day of term, but that was Moggie, 
or Ella Wheeler Thunderbolt, or whatever she was calling herself this 
week. The arrangements were flaky in the extreme. It was not a good idea 
to have the St Cat's choir singing "Nymphs and Shepherds (Come Away)" 
for the television camera when the girls had not rehearsed that particular 
number for months. They did a fine job under the circumstances, standing 
in a horseshoe formation and thrusting out their enormous breasts for the 
disbelieving cameras, which moved in close and low, so the girls in the 
front row had to crane their necks forward to see into the lenses past the 
peaks of their all-too-improbable bosoms. The school's Director of Music 
resigned on the spot.

But when Miss Thunderbolt produced her bombshell, a real live Japanese 
student, the bum notes and fluffed words of the school choir were 
forgotten. No sooner had she announced "Miss Rumiko Tsujimoto", than the 
scene was lit up by flashes brighter than a thousand suns, as Rumiko 
minced from the wings of the stage in the old St Cat's gymnasium. Her tiny 
delicate feet, her wondrously shapely legs in the obligatory skirt which 
barely covered her bottom - Rumiko was rather taller than the skirt's 
donor, Ishbel - and the crisp white shirt almost explodingly-full of what 
could best be described as gigantic tits; the cameras recorded it all.

And, God knows where she got the idea, Rumiko had removed her blazer, 
and trailed it negligently behind her across the stage by one hand. When 
she reached Miss Thunderbolt, who was watching her approach open-
mouthed, Rumiko circled behind her headmistress, bowed deeply to her, 
then bestowed a dazzling smile on the gentlemen of the press.

Tumult broke out as the press pressed forward, reaching for their wide-
angles and coming in for the kill.

"This way, Miss!" 

"Over here, Rumiko!"

"I'm here, Miss Kamikaze!"

"Look at ME, Rumi!"

"Lovely smile, Rumiko!"

"One more, darling!"

"Undo yer tie, love!"

"One more button, Rumi!"

"Spread those lovely legs, sweetheart!"

And Rumiko, struggling with the language, did her best to comply with all 
the instructions that were yelled at her. Five minutes later, looking less 
immaculate than before, Rumiko; her tie loosened, the top four buttons of 
her shirt revealing the creamy upper slopes of her remarkable bust, her 
skirt hiked up to her crotch; spoke a few words for the world's television 
screens.

"Ladies n' Gennelmen! Miss Thunnerborru. Thank you for inviting me to 
your schooru. As you can see, aready I have some monster titties. I hope 
they get even bigger this year. Thank you!"

A brief speech, like all the best ones. Moggie recovered quite well, actually. 
Realising that Rumiko's speech was already a matter of record, she smiled 
round at the assembled press, leaning forward just enough to reveal about 
two thirds of her breasts. Attentive silence fell.

"As you hear, Rumiko has already picked up more than a smattering of the 
language, and shows an excellent grasp of English humour. St Cat's is 
overjoyed to welcome her to its bosom, a bosom which is available to 
welcome girls from countries all over the world, large and small."

"But preferably large," yelled a voice from the back.

Rumiko instinctively felt the attention of the crowd slipping away from 
her, and decided to upstage Moggie with a few more inches of cleavage. 
The move was greeted with a satisfying volley of flashes. The cameramen 
weren't neglecting her after all.

She remembered another vital piece of her English. "I ruv you!" she 
whispered confidentially to the gentlemen and ladies of the press. A low 
moan rose up from their world-weary, hard-bitten, cynical, streetwise 
throats.

"We ruv YOU, Rumiko!" they shouted.


**********

I slipped away from the scene before it broke up. Exchanging significant 
glances with Smegs, I headed for the First Form dormitory, following the 
fleeing group of young girls who had decided it was time to put as great a 
distance as possible between themselves and Miss Thunderbolt.

Flinging wide the door, I burst in, and found a tranquil scene. Suzanne and 
Pansy reclined on their beds, reading textbooks. Anastasia was apparently 
getting dressed, being totally naked and shrugging into her bra. I inspected 
her closely. She had filled out quite nicely over the holiday.

"Suzanne." I suddenly whirled round to confront her.

"Yes, Miss?" She sounded so innocent.

"Not over at the press conference?"

"No, Miss. Too much work to finish before the first lesson this afternoon."

"So, you weren't interested in hearing Rumiko talking to the television 
news?"

"Golly, was she talking, Miss?" Pansy put down her book. "Will we see her 
on television?"

"Probably, yes, in edited form, I imagine."

"Gosh, Miss," said Suzanne, "what did she say?"

"She seemed to say everything she had been told to say, Suzanne. About 
her monster titties?"

"Oh, Miss, isn't she rude!"

"Yes, Pansy. Very rude. With what she said to the press and the striptease 
she did on the stage."

"Striptease! Oooh, Pan! Rumiko did a strip on the stage. I wish we'd seen it 
now. She's got ever such monster titties, hasn't she, Miss!"

"And did she undo her tie, Miss?"

"And undo her shirt buttons, Miss?"

"And did she say she loved them, Miss?"

"Pan," hissed Suzanne. "No!"

"I will deal with you girls later." I turned to leave. "Where's Shona, has she 
come back?"

"No, Miss," said Pansy. "Her Mum was going to kill her."

"Ah, yes, I was forgetting. Carry on, then."


**********

You can't run a girls' school on press conferences alone. Some of us had to 
do the donkey work. I made my way back to my room to change into 
something more suitable for teaching. These fuck-me shoes, this painfully-
tight leather skirt and almost transparent shirt straining over a vivid puce 
ScatBra were hardly suitable for the First Form science class.

As I turned the corner into the corridor, I became aware of a presence. It 
was like a chill hand on my heart. Well, on my left tit actually, but I 
suppose that was as close as it could get. A small figure was sitting on the 
floor outside the door of my room. Not such a small figure, at that. Possibly 
the biggest figure in her class, but still dissatisfied.

"Victoria, what a surprise. Waiting for someone?"

She scrambled to her feet. "You took your time, Miss," she said rudely. I 
opened the door and ushered her inside. Better get this over with.

"How can I help you, Toria?"

"I already told you how you could help me, and you did nothing. I also told 
you what would happen if you did nothing. The time has come, Miss."

"Toria, I must explain." An unpleasant sneer spread across her face. "I tried 
to give you bigger breasts, but I got the wrong girl ..."

"You can say that again, that little Japanese tart got them instead ..."

"... I came to your bedroom in the attic and it was dark, so I sprayed the 
girl I thought smelled most like you, but it was Rumiko."

"She smelled like me?"

"A bit, yes!"

"And her tits grew huge."

"Well, no, actually. It was the wrong girl, and the wrong spray. It had a bit 
too much delay in it, but it made her horny. She raped that petrol station 
cashier on the way to Hereford."

"*You* made her do that?" Victoria's face betrayed a flicker of respect. "She 
sorted him out, no problem. I wish I could have seen the video, but the law 
pinched it. From where I was standing, by the Mars bars, she looked pretty 
athletic. She got her leg over all right, right over his head in one smooth 
movement. She just sort of shouted 'Hai!' and there she was, straddling 
him!"

I tried to imagine the scene, but the sweet, innocent image of Rumiko 
didn't seem to fit, somehow. "Anyway, it was Miss Mountains who sprayed 
her chest and made her breasts grow. She thought I wanted to enlarge 
Rumiko, not you. Miss Mountains thought your breasts are beautiful the 
way you are, and so do I."

"You can't sweet-talk me, Miss."

"I'm not, Toria. They are very nice breasts, just the right size. Slightly too 
big by conventional standards of beauty, but St Cat's has its own rules on 
these things ..."

"Not good enough, Miss! You gave Suzanne a vast pair. Even Pansy's are 
miles bigger than mine. I want to be bigger than both of them. Rumiko was 
the last straw. You brought that delicate, petite little Japanese girl to St 
Cat's and you gave her huge breasts. What about your readers?"

"What *about* my readers?"

"That's what I said. Your readers all over the world will think all Japanese 
girls want bigger tits."

"Well?"

"And they'll get the idea that Japanese girls can't pronounce the letter 'L'. 
You've made her a caricature. It will cause loss of face. It could cause an 
International Incident."

"Toria, you're getting things blown up out of all proportion!"

"I can't believe you said that, Miss. No, you had your chance, and you blew 
it." She turned to leave.

"Wait a minute! I can still spray you. I've still got the boob-juice in my bag. 
Here it is ..." I rooted around in my bag and produced a half-empty bottle. 
"Take your top off, I'll do you straight away."

Victoria looked at the bottle with its oily yellow fluid swishing about 
inside. She bit her lip. "No, it's too late, you had your chance."

"Toria!" I shook the bottle and let her hear it fizz. She loosened her tie. I 
shook the bottle again, and she took her tie off over her head without 
undoing the knot. She undid the top button, then the next two, moistening 
her lips with her little pink tongue. Hurry up, girl, I thought, before I flood 
my pants.

She was peeling the sleeves of her shirt down her creamy-skinned upper 
arms, then she dropped it on the floor and stood proudly in her yellow bra. 
One of Sandy's, I recognised the stitching. "I'll do that," I told her, and 
released the four hooks. The bra joined her shirt on the floor and she 
turned to face me again. Wowee. There's something about a pair of big, 
natural breasts.

"You don't really need this, you know."

"Yes I do, Miss. Do it Do it now."

I did it. I gave her a twenty-second burst. Twice as long as the 
recommended dose, but I got carried away. "You may get dressed, Toria, 
and go to your classes."

She looked down at herself, as if waiting for something to happen. "I hope 
this works, for your sake!" Ungrateful bitch.

"Hang on a minute!" she paused with her bra in her hand, looking at me.

"You don't need to go just yet. There's something you can do for me in 
return." I was releasing the belt of my leather skirt. It should have slid 
easily down my hips, but it was stuck. "Shit," I cursed.

"You're getting fatter, Miss. I noticed it the other day."

"You did?"

"Here you are." She stepped behind me and helped pull down on the 
slippery leather. It took both of us all our efforts, and she was panting 
before the red dress was on the floor beside her crisp white shirt.

"Go on, then," I urged her.

"Go on where?"

"You know what to do."

"Bend over, Miss. Bend over the arm of that chair."

"Yes, Toria!" 

"Take those panties off. Those nasty wet panties!"

"Yes, Toria!" I bent over the chair and let her remove them for me.

"You're a nasty wet Miss, aren't you? Thinking lewd thoughts makes you 
nasty and wet, Miss, doesn't it!"

"Yes, Toria!"

"Youre getting a fat bottom, Miss."

"Measure it, Toria. Tell me how fat it is. There's a tape measure in the top 
drawer."

I felt the tape stretched round my buttocks, and the girl groping beneath 
my dripping thighs for the end of it. "How big were you, Miss?"

"Thirty-four."

She spluttered. "No wonder you can't get your skirt on, you fat pig. You're 
thirty-seven now. You need a good thrashing for letting yourself get so fat, 
Miss."

"I know, Toria!"

And that's what I got. It was what I richly deserved for being a nasty wet 
teacher whose hips had grown three inches in as many weeks. After six 
smacks with her bare hand, Toria decided it hurt too much, so she took the 
belt from my leather skirt, and laid into me with that.

"Oh, stop, stop, STOP!" I yelled. I could see her reflection in the dressing-
table mirror, her breasts rebounding as she raised the belt again and again.

"Stop!" I shrieked.

The door burst open, and Smegs came in. Her eyes opened wide, like 
saucers, and Toria paused, the belt cocked and ready.

"What have you stopped for, girl?" I screamed, and Toria sought 
permission to proceed from the deputy headmistress. Smegs nodded, and 
settled down to watch.

"Are you nearly finished?" she asked.

"Another five minutes," I whimpered.

"Ten!" insisted Toria.

"Ten!" I shouted, and my tormentor settled into a steady rhythm.

"There," she said at last, her chest heaving. "Let that be a lesson to you."

"Thank you, Toria!" I stood up with an effort. "That was miles worse than 
last time."

"Thank you, Miss." She picked up her shirt and bra. "I'll get dressed back in 
the dorm. I'll take a short cut across the quad." She peered out of the 
window. "There aren't too many of the newspaper men around now."

I joined her, pulling the curtains aside. A small but curious group was 
gazing up at us, cameras raised, perhaps wondering at the sounds of 
corporal punishment.

"See you later, Miss." Toria scuttled out of the door. I watched through the 
window until she appeared below, still topless and carrying her clothes. 
She called something to the press men as she passed them, and they 
responded cheerily as the cameras flashed and whined. I turned to Smegs, 
who was masturbating in a preoccupied manner.

"Well," she said. "What was all that in aid of?"

"I'd been naughty. So I had to be spanked."

Smegs sniffed the air. Besides the smell of fresh sweat and ripe female 
juices, do I detect strawberries?"

"Probably. I sprayed Toria's chest. It took quite a lot to cover her."

"What did you spray her with?"

"Boob, I hope. It was the bottle in my bag."

"Ah," said Smegs. "I see!"





Part II





Chapter 4:- First Day


"I can't think what got into you, Chauntaille," wailed Moggie, sadly. "The 
press were standing directly beneath your window, taking notes and 
recording every sound. How could be so stupid as to punish a student at 
such a time. It will be in all the papers."

"I wasn't punishing her. She was punishing me. For being a naughty, nasty 
wet teacher whose hips had ballooned from 34 inches to 37 in less than a 
month."

"Yes, I'd noticed that. That leather skirt wasn't helping. You looked a 
complete tart, and your bum stuck out. And *were* you?"

"Was I what?"

"Naughty, nasty and wet?"

"I always am nasty and wet, you know that. Naughty, yes, I suppose so. I 
had promised I would give her bigger breasts, and I had failed her. Still, 
with the spraying I gave her, she should be all right now. Either that, or 
she's about to get the fucking of her life."

"Still unreliable, is it, that spray?"

"It's okay when we know what's in it, but there are two bottles doing the 
rounds at the moment, and God knows which is which. Toria has a fifty-
fifty chance, boobs or fuck. Who knows, she may even fall madly in love."

"Who with, Chauntaille, there aren't really any boys around here of the 
right age."

"I hadn't really considered boys."

"No, you wouldn't, would you. Anyway, it sounds as if you thoroughly 
*deserved* a good spanking, so I won't take any action this time. There 
are, to be honest, more important matters. Rumiko, for instance. Staffing 
problems. And *this*."

'This' was a fat folder which she dropped on the desk. A cloud of dust rose, 
which set us coughing.

"What's that?" I opened the folder. It seemed to be full of letters. The top 
one was addressed to 'Sir Catherine's College of Girl'. It came from an 
address in Turkey.

"Requests for information from abroad. If I was less scrupulous, I could get 
rid of all the present students and fill up the school with girls from all over 
the world. Some of them are right beauties, too, to judge by their 
photographs."

"They sent photographs?" I started riffling through the file.

"I've got them in my desk drawer," said Moggie. "Photos and 
measurements, hair colour, weight, all the sort of information a school 
needs about its prospective students. All on file." She tapped her desk 
drawer.

"Aren't you going to let me see?" I was struggling with her, but she held 
me back.

"Shan, stop getting wet over a few pictures. I might let you see some later. 
There's one from Italy with tits out here ..." She tried to indicate where 
they came out to, but her own tits were in the way. "Well, huge, anyway. 
164cm, whatever that is in old money."

"Bigger than Smegs," I said. "It won't please her at all. Oh, come on, Moggie, 
just one little piccie!"

"Chauntaille, it is distasteful to see you, a grown woman, begging on your 
knees. I think what you need is a good spanking."

"I'll let you spank me if you show me one picture," I insisted.

So she unlocked the desk drawer. Claudia Corleone was her name, and she 
was decidedly bigger than Smegs. It was startling to find that she wasn't 
wearing any clothes in the photograph, but a pleasant surprise. Claudia had 
a decidedly Mediterranean look, I was enthralled to see.

"I'm keeping this." I dropped the picture into my cleavage. "How soon can 
she start here?"

"Next term. But there are complications. The family."

"Her family?"

"Not her family. The Family." Moggie touched the side of her nose and 
narrowed her eyes.

"Oh! I see!"

But then it was time for my spanking. It wasn't *quite* as enjoyable as 
when Toria did it, but Moggie used a metre-rule, which gave her extra 
leverage. Smegs came in and watched the last twenty minutes of my 
punishment, which ended more or less at the same time as Smegs climaxed 
for the fourth time. She pulled up her knickers as I stood up stiffly and 
mopped up the splashes of fluid with several sheets of man-sized tissue.

"You're being a very naughty girl today, Shan," she observed.

"Yes. You can spank me later, if you think I really deserve it."

"I can fit you in this evening," she said briskly, consulting her diary. "Six 
sharp in my room. We'll have an hour, then I have to get away. I'm fucking 
a bloke from the Sunday Smut."

"Why not do him first, then I can come along at five past six?"

"Good plan." Smegs made a note to call him later.

"When your arrangements are complete, ladies," said Moggie heavily, "we 
have a number of items to discuss. Miss Tsujimoto, for one. The resignation 
of our teaching staff is another."

"The teaching staff," said Smegs. "All of it?"

"Sir Roger, Miss Balloons and Miss Dumbo have resigned. Sir Roger on 
grounds of ill-health. He can't keep it up any longer, he says. Miss Balloons 
and Miss Dumbo feel unable to continue in view of their sudden 
unscheduled development. Miss Dumbo's breasts are too floppy, and Miss 
Balloons's are too firm."

"What will we do without those two?" I was going to miss them. "They 
were the backbone of our Dramatic Arts teaching. Where else will we find 
such experts in wrapping your legs round behind your neck and solo 
wanking?"

"It's not the end of the world, as it happens." Moggie consulted her 
notepad. "Miss Balloons has a younger sister, apparently, whose wanking is 
top class, and very noisy. She looks nothing like her, strangely enough, but 
Belinda recommends her strongly. She can't remember her sister's name, 
but she gave us the number of her agent. As for dancing, I am taking a 
new approach. We will bring in part-time teachers in various disciplines."

At the mere mention of the word 'disciplines' my pussy began to behave 
like one of Pavlov's dogs.

"We will need experts in the fields of Ballroom, Ballet, Dirty, Irish, Country, 
Exotic, Erotic, Tap and Lap. One day a week ought to be sufficient. The 
successful applicants will have experience of the problems experienced by 
dancers with a fuller figure, especially a figure which is fuller at the top 
than the bottom."

Smegs and I nodded sagely.

"We will miss Belinda and Donna. They brought a welcome breath of fresh 
air. But a transfusion of blood could prove to be the new broom that 
catches the worm. Megan, will you look after this one?"

Megan took out her diary again, crisp and efficient. God, I could really eat 
her when she's like this.

"What are you doing down there, Chauntaille?"

"Sorry, Miss. Sorry, Smegs."

"Oooh, don't be. Carry on, please." Smegs parted her thighs a few more feet 
and I dived in. The discussion went on faintly in the background. I heard 
Moggie's voice.

"Now, perhaps we can address the problem of Rumiko Tsujimoto. 
Specifically, her behaviour at the press conference this morning. It was not 
what we expect from St Cat's girls."

On the contrary, I thought, her behaviour was exactly what we expected 
from St Cat's girls. She would fit in very well. A number of our girls, 
regrettably, despite their gentle upbringing, were appalling sluts. Smegs 
shuddered massively, her thighs thudding against my ears. One!

"I have no idea where she learned to perform in such a manner."

"She has watched a lot of television, apparently." Smegs's fingers suddenly 
clasped the short hairs at the nape of my neck. I must have done 
something she found particularly enjoyable. "Trailing her coat she learned 
from fashion models. She learned stripping from a porn channel."

"Which one?" said Moggie, eagerly.

"You can't get it over here."

"Oh, shit!"

"And the moment when she hoisted her breasts out of the top of her shirt 
and waggled them in the faces of the world's press was inspired by some 
kind of Japanese animation."

I had missed seeing that, somehow. Pity.

"Apparently, the words about her monster titties - and that she loved the 
gentlemen and women of the press - she was taught parrot fashion by the 
girls of the First Form."

I emerged, spitting out hairs. "I'll be dealing with them, Miss, most 
sternly."

"Thank you, Chauntaille."

"Who told you you could leave off," whimpered Smegs, faintly, "get your 
lovely face back in my steaming snatch." I grinned up at her and resumed 
my box lunch.

"Are all the girls back off holiday? No deserters?"

"I'll check," rapped Smegs, her thighs twitching as she wrote in her book.

"No, let Chauntaille do it, it's a suitably menial task for someone like her."

"Do what?" I came up for air.

"Oh, I didn't think you could hear anything in there."

"I didn't have my head right *inside* her," I snarled, waspishly. "I'll go and 
do it now. Roll-call. Appel! Achtung! Raus, raus!" And I goose-stepped from 
the room.


**********

All the Sixth Formers were back. Two of the Fifths had called in sick, as 
had one of the Fourths. The Seconds and Thirds were all present and 
correct. I found the First Form doing homework, and being surprisingly 
well-behaved. Their look-out system was one of the most sophisticated in 
the entire school.

"All correct? Is Shona still absent?"

"Oooh, no, Miss!" Suzanne rolled her eyes at me. "She's back. Her Mum 
didn't kill her after all. She's having a shit, Miss, but she'll be back in a 
minute. You should SEE her, though!"

I wish they wouldn't say things like that. "Why, what's wrong with her?"

"Nothing's WRONG, exactly, she's just ... well, you wait till you SEE her, 
that's all!"

"Suzanne! I do not enjoy these little games you find so amusing."

"I've done nothing but shit all day," complained a voice, entering the room. 
"It's my mum's bloody cooking. Cleans me right out. Ooops! Sorry, Miss. I 
didn't know you were in here. I've got the screamers, Miss!"

"I'd rather not be privy to the details of your bowel movements, Shona. 
You were late coming back. We feared you might have been killed by your 
mother."

"No, Miss, that was only if I was pregnant. In fact, she likes my boobs, 
especially when they grew some more on Christmas morning! Look!"

I looked. Or rather, she swam into my field of vision. She had always been 
a stocky girl, large enough to carry the extra weight of her spray-enlarged 
boobs after the Christmas fancy-dress. Now, I was very much afraid she'd 
overdone things.

"What on earth has happened to you, Shona?"

"Maybe I'm an early developer, Miss."

I looked her up and down. "You *have* become rather gross, Shona!"

She blushed prettily. "I'm just large-boned", she murmured.

She was large everything else, too. In every group of girls or boys, there is 
always one who is larger and taller than the others. Sometimes it evens 
itself out later in life. Well, if Shona was going to get herself evened out, 
the others were going to have to eat themselves into a stupor for the next 
few years. Her breasts were undeniably huge as a result of the boob-juice. 
Nature had taken the necessary steps to compensate for this by making 
the rest of her more or less to the same scale. Not quite, but almost.

Shona was still noticeably big-busted, but now she was also frighteningly 
broad-hipped, plump-buttocked and thunder-thighed. Her belly was 
generously-fleshed. She had more than one chin. She was a Big Girl. Her 
uniform was well-filled in a manner which suggested that Nature hadn't 
quite finished with her.

Her skirt was tight across the front, where her belly bulged with the load 
of several Christmas dinners which apparently were only now beginning to 
find themselves discharged as waste. Needless to say, it was tight across 
the back, too. Her buttocks might have appealed to the Reverend Boyes-
Wrecktham of Fillamore Deepleigh, had she been a boy.

Some people, of course, like that sort of thing. Don't get the idea I'm 
knocking it at all. And her face was still terribly pretty. In a plump kind of 
way.

Her blouse was best left undescribed, although its strength was a credit to 
its anonymous manufacturer, somewhere on the Pacific rim. I recognised it 
as one of the very largest available blouses borrowed from the Lower Sixth 
before school broke up for the holiday. Then, it had not been full, although 
her swelling breasts had provided it with some truly spectacular radial 
creases. There were no creases any more. It was brimming with Shona. It 
might almost have been painted on.

"You don't appear to be wearing a bra, Shona," I accused her, as a sudden 
silence fell in the room. "Not, of course, that you need one for support, as 
the tightness of your blouse prevents your breasts descending any further 
than your lower stomach. However, another vital purpose of an adequate 
and effective brassiere is the disguising of the nipples. Yours, I regret - 
and on this point you must take my word, as you cannot see them - are 
protruding more than is desirable."

She couldn't reach them, either, although she stretched an arm down in the 
right direction. I tweaked one of them gently for her to emphasise my 
point. It emphasised hers as well, I observed with interest.

She hung her head in shame. "Sorry, Miss. It's chilly out in the bogs."

"You must be aware of the effect of sudden temperature changes, Shona. I 
hate to think what you would look like if you were to become sexually 
aroused!" A small cry went up from the listening girls, like a communal 
gasp of excitement. They love it when Miss talks dirty. Several of them 
began to touch themselves and each other.

"It's getting stuffy in here, girls. One of you may open a window."

"Oh, Miss, it's sexy!"

"Oh, no, Miss, we'll freeze!"

"But we like it stuffy, Miss."

"It smells ever so sexy, Miss", said Suzanne. "Like bedrooms, and kippers 
and stuff."

She was right. It was time I left them to their own devices, whatever they 
were. I almost ran back to Moggie's office.

Smegs opened her thighs immediately as I came in, and I took up my 
position gratefully. Within seconds, she was pushing my head into her with 
both hands.

"Don't fuckin' suffocate the girl, Megan!" shouted Moggie, but I found 
myself held firmly until Nature had run her course. It seemed like hours, 
but it was possibly no more than seven or eight minutes. When I came 
round, Smegs was loosening my clothing and Moggie was administering 
mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

"Hey, she's really tasty, Megan," were the first words I heard.

"That's me you can taste, Mog," Smegs reminded her. And while they were 
snogging each other, I sat up and took a look through the file which lay 
open on the headmistress's desk. Eventually, I became aware of the two of 
them sitting on the desk, one on each side of me, very very close.

"I like that one." Smegs pointed to one picture.

"A bit of a midget, though," Moggie said, dismissively. "How about her?"

"Great tits," Smegs commented. "Pity you can't see more of her arse."

"There's another picture here, bending over. There!"

"Fuckin' hell. Hey, Shan, that's a bum to rival even yours!"

"Huh!" I said, meaningfully, and Smegs must have been sorry, because she 
rubbed the back of my neck and fastened her open mouth on mine in a 
decidedly friendly manner.

"We'd better resume this meeting tomorrow," Moggie sighed. "We're 
obviously not going to achieve much more today. Off you go and do what 
you have to do. I'll call some of my boyfriends."





Chapter 5:- Two-Handed Exercise


"We're going to have to juggle the schedules until the new teachers arrive," 
said Moggie. She looked worried about something, which was unusual. 
Perhaps she was late. Serve her right. And it would be nice to have a 
pregnant headmistress at St Cat's. The girls could do a project on her. I 
forced myself back to the present. She was talking to me.

"Shan, can you manage Fifth Form Wanking and Fourths Dancing at the 
same time? They are in adjoining rooms, so you can shuttle between the 
two."

I thought about it for a moment. There were certain ethical problems, 
concerning the degree of personal attention the school was committed to 
giving each of the girls in its care. I voiced my objections to Moggie.

"I'll give you an extra twenty a week, not a penny more," she said, firmly, 
and I accepted graciously.

"Put that in writing, Miss, or it's no deal", I said.

Smegs and I left her office that morning not in the best of moods. Smegs 
was taking the Third Form in Personal Hygiene and at the same time the 
Lower Sixths for Gigantomastia in Modern Schools, a group media project 
involving the collation of audio and visual material which would 
eventually be released on a CD for the titillation of breast-aware people 
throughout the civilised world.

"It's a carve-up, a rip-off," she complained as we strode across the crowded 
quadrangle, elbowing aside the admiring girls who posed and pranced for 
our attention. They seemed to think, just because we enjoyed licking each 
other's private parts, that we were attracted by busty little sluts who 
spent the whole day trying to explode out of their shirts.

I agreed with her. "It's not good enough. I've got to try and give my full 
attention to dancing and wanking at the same time. As if anyone could."

"At least you don't have to try and think about hygiene and huge tits. 'Be 
sure to lift your breasts up and wash beneath them at LEAST once a 
month, girls!'" She adopted her best Moggie teacher's voice. "'hang them 
over your shoulders while you're in the shower, or better still, get a friend 
to hold them out of the way'. It makes you sick."

"Is that how they do it?" I said. "Put them over their shoulders?"

"You should know, if anyone does," muttered Smegs unkindly. "What do 
you do with yours?"

"I sort of bend forward from the waist, I suppose. I've never really 
thought about it. I just bend forwards, and rest my tits on the floor, then I 
can wash all sorts of places."

"Do they really? Touch the floor?"

"Not quite. I was exaggerating slightly. I can rest them on the edge of the 
shower tray. I could tie them in a knot, of course, but they'd still need 
untying to wash them, and it's terribly hard work. You could come and 
watch later, if you're really interested."

"Thanks, I'd like that!"

We had arrived at the door of the Fifth Form classroom, and I lingered for 
a moment with my hand on the door handle. We kissed hungrily.

"See ya, then. Break a leg, yeah?"

I was greeted with catcalls by the unruly Fifth Formers.

"Whay-up, Miss!"

"Great kissing, Miss."

"I loved the tongue-work, Miss."

"Christ, Miss. Look at your NIPPLES!"

Stupid remark. As if I could. I edged toward the door again and tried to 
study my reflection in the glass. Yes, they were rather engorged-looking. 
But enough of this. I whirled round on the class, then strode to the 
blackboard, my breasts bouncing heavily. Unfortunately, I underestimated 
my speed and the necessary braking distance, and they collided massively 
with the board. It was a while before I could turn round to face them 
again.

They tittered like a bunch of horrid little schoolgirls. "Wanking!" I 
announced, and waited for silence. It was a long time coming. "This 
morning, we are going to study male wanking!"

"Oh., Miss!"

The cries were fifty-fifty disappointment and feverish anticipation.

"Unfortunately, I don't have a boy with me to demonstrate, and as there 
are twenty-five of you, we would need at least fifty boys to allow proper 
hands-on practice of the best techniques. However ... Madonna, would you 
mind? In the corridor, outside the staff room door, you will find a box with 
a greengrocer's name on the side. Fetch it here, please."

Madonna hurried away, her breasts unusually pointed, I noticed with some 
interest.

"Now then. Imagine, if you will, that you are alone with a boy, walking 
home from a date. You arrive outside your house, and you have to be 
indoors in five minutes, or you will be shot. How can you best send your 
boyfriend home satisfied? Truly satisfied, NOT with a raging hard-on 
because your kisses have driven him to distraction?"

Christ, this is strong stuff, Shan, I thought. It was even making ME wet. 
Little moist moans were breaking out across the classroom as the girls 
began to imagine the scene. "Thank you, Madonna, you may take your 
seat." I plunged into the box.

"I ordered cucumbers," I told the girls, "but they said they were expensive 
and out of season. However, courgettes may be smaller ..."

Cries of disappointment echoed round the room as I handed out the first 
few courgettes to the girls in the front row.

"... but you will find them a far more realistic substitute. Cucumbers would 
only spoil things for you in later life." I placed the last courgette in the last 
girl's hand. The fingers curled round it lasciviously.

"You seem highly experienced, Jennifer."

"Thank you, Miss. This is about the size of my boyfriend's." She slipped it 
into her mouth, her eyes never leaving mine. Uncomfortably, I moved to 
the front of the class.

"Now, hold your courgettes in your left hand. With your right ..."

"Please Miss?"

"Yes, Emily?"

"I'm left-handed, Miss."

"You may use either hand, Emily. I was coming to that. Later, as a private 
exercise, you will use your wrong hand. Now, girls. Watch closely ..."

"Miss?"

"What is it this time? Yes, Cornucopia?"

Cornucopia van Lenneps was known, for excellent reasons, I am sure, as 
"The Horn of Plenty" among her classmates.

"Is it true, Miss, that *your* pussy is big enough to accept a vegetable 
marrow?"

I find such questions an infringement of my personal liberty. Those bloody 
First Formers must have been talking out of turn again.

"As you will no doubt learn, Cornucopia, size is not everything. I am, I 
understand, EXTREMELY large in my intimate regions, but that is not 
important when it comes to male wanking." I tried to continue, but the 
noise was too great. Girls were looking at me, and nudging each other, 
hungry for information. "Shut UP!" I yelled at them.

"Show us, Miss!"

I continued doggedly. "Grasp the courgette in the fingers of your right 
hand. Try two fingers and a thumb. Gently, Diana. That's it. Now, WITHOUT 
squashing it, rub the fingers and thumb up and down the length of the 
vegetable. That's the way!"

They wanked away experimentally, in silence.

"You may use the whole of your palm, Jeanette," I advised a bright-eyed 
girl, adjusting her grip for her, "but don't squeeze. Treat it like a little 
balloon. You don't want to burst it, or you won't have it any more. Now, 
faster! STOP!"

They stopped, more or less. One or two couldn't, and continued, spittle 
dribbling from their lips, their faces flushed, eyes staring.

"You have to learn this next bit. It is vital! Hold your courgette more 
loosely as you jerk inwards, tighten your grip very slightly on the outward 
stroke. I know it may seem wrong, but it is important." I watched as they 
struggled with the unfamiliar technique. "That's the way, girls, go for it. 
Keep going! Now let it get faster, and faster. Go, go, go, yes, yes YESSSS!"

I had to sit down, panting. The girls were simmering gently, looking at 
each other in suppressed excitement. Jennifer had gone down on her 
courgette, making gagging noises as she practically swallowed it. Other 
girls were caressing their vegetables with expressions of lust - even love - 
on their faces.

"Settle down, girls. Ready to try again?" They nodded eagerly. Fingering 
their new friends, they wanted more. "I will have to leave the classroom 
for a while to go next door. Now you can do it with your wrong hand. The 
ability to wank with the wrong hand is one that will set you apart from 
other girls. You will be carrying the torch of St Cat's into the world if you 
can wank wrong-handed. Later this term, you will work with both hands 
at the same time."

Gasps of astonishment.

"But for now, one hand at a time. I will be back in ten minutes. If any of 
you finish before I come back, you may use your courgettes for your own 
personal satisfaction, but not, NOT, until you have completed your wrong-
handed exercise. May I trust you on this?"

Bright-eyed faces nodded eagerly back at me. The class was in the palm of 
my hand, as it were.


**********

"Today, the smooch!" I strode around at the front of the Fourth Form 
Dancing class. "It is as much a part of the dancing curriculum as ballet. 
Imagine! You are at the college Graduation Ball. You are in the arms of 
your one chosen beloved. Later in the evening, who knows, you may allow 
him to penetrate your steaming love-tunnel with his throbbing maleness."

The first of the moans rang out, a sharp little cry that brought a few 
embarrassed giggles from the other girls. For a moment of panic, I thought 
it had been me, then I identified the culprit, a plain-looking girl with 
thick-lensed spectacles, a thick waist and thick thighs.

"Try to curb your lust, Kate, please." She blushed and farted, which made 
her blush again.

"Now, I want you to pair off." I had already counted them, and realised to 
my satisfaction that there were nineteen girls present. "Rumiko! You may 
pair off with me!"

"Ah, Just Pray Miss," she purred, confusingly, and rose to her feet. The 
class watched as she minced toward me, stopping just before our jutting 
breasts collided. I realised that the other girls were studying Rumiko's 
bottom, and I wished I could study it as well. I contented myself with 
placing a hand on it, confident that the class could see nothing as we stood 
side by side before them. Rumiko twitched her taut bottom in a most 
arousing manner against my hot palm.

"Now, are you all ready?" The class were standing, in pairs, many with 
their loved ones, others daring to approach those they had admired only 
from afar. The atmosphere was filled with naked lust. They were, in a 
word, READY!

"Now, turn to face each other." Rumiko and I demonstrated. We were not 
ideal partners, as our ridiculously overdeveloped breasts could not occupy 
the same space. I was taller than Rumiko, yet my breasts hung lower than 
hers. We were five feet apart, and squashed against each other.

I dragged Rumiko closer, until our breasts meshed together like cog 
wheels. At a pinch, if we had leaned our heads together, we could just have 
brushed lips, possibly. Or maybe, not quite.

"Right then, press your hips against his."

"Against his what, Miss?" shouted one precocious youngster, amidst giggles.

Girls were embracing fondly, dancing forgotten for the time being. Taking 
advantage of their preoccupation, I slipped next door, followed by the dog-
like Rumiko, to check on the Fifth Form Wankers. They were doing just 
fine.

Back in the dancing class, one or two couples had fallen to the floor, but 
most were still actively pressed against each other. Rumiko made a 
whimpering noise in Japanese and thrust her hips against mine. To my 
surprise, she made contact, which said something for her flexibility and 
determination.

"Now, one of you, it doesn't matter which one, just gently flex your knees 
and rub slowly up and down. Hold each other tight! Don't let go, Nubilia! 
Good. Excellent! Anybody coming yet?"

Several girls were. Some already had. Rumiko did, with a triumphant yell 
of "Hai!" which startled one or two of the less emotionally-involved girls. 
One or two began to cry, throwing themselves into their parts. I 
encouraged them to a climax. "That's wonderful. Excellent! Press harder. 
Place your hands on your partner's buttocks and squeeze her to you. That's 
it, Chloe, lift her clear of the floor! Oh, yes, that's magnificent! That's 
WONDERFUL!"

My last statement was not connected in any way with the performance of 
the class, rather was it an expression of satisfaction with the performance 
of Rumiko, who was out of sight beneath my breasts somewhere, but very 
clearly still on the job down there. We came to a close.

One or two girls reached into their bags for cigarettes, and I had to 
reprimand them sternly.

"It's only dancing, remember", I told them, and they closed their purses 
with ashamed expressions.

I left them to free expression and dashed next door again, still followed by 
Rumiko, who appeared to be on heat. The Fifths were just finishing, for the 
God-knows-how-many'th time.

"Well done, girls. That was wonderful. I am proud of you. Five minutes to 
lunch. Clean yourselves up, there's a box of tissue on my desk. Any of you 
who don't wish to keep your courgettes may drop them in the box on the 
way out. Madonna! On your way to the school restaurant, carry the box 
down there with you and present it, with my compliments, to the chef."

One or two of the girls wiped their courgettes lovingly before kissing them 
goodbye and consigning them to the ratatouille. Several slipped them into 
their bags, or their cleavage, for later.

They even thanked me as they left the classroom, their eyes big and dewy, 
their cheeks still rosy with passion. At last they were all gone.

"Aren't you having lunch, Rumiko?"

"Ah, Just Pray Miss, I not stay with you? Excerent pussy remind me of 
sushi. Monster pussy!"

"Why, thank you, Rumiko. But off you go, and enjoy your meal. Don't 
bother washing your hands first!"





Chapter 6:- Term Projects


"How did it go?"Smegs asked. She fell in beside me as I walked from the 
classroom block in the direction of our own rooms.

"Quite well, actually. The courgettes went down very nicely after the girls' 
initial disappointment. Some of them even kept theirs after the lesson. I 
think they've fallen in love with them."

"That was quick. I've never fallen for a cucumber in anything less than a 
week. Have you ever developed an emotional attachment to a marrow?" 
She can be so unfeeling. "How about the dancing?" she asked, perhaps 
sensing that she had hurt my fragile feelings.

"We did the smooch. There were an odd number in the class, so I ended up 
with Rumiko."

"Hey, great! How was she?"

"You wouldn't believe. But I don't know why I'm telling you; if you get a 
taste for her, I'll never get a look in between your thighs again."

"Is that a fact," Smegs said thoughtfully. She wrote something in her diary, 
and though I strained to see over her shoulder, I couldn't read it. "Aren't 
you going to ask me about the Personal Hygiene and the Giganto Project?"

"I prefer not to think about Personal Hygiene too much." Smegs looked at 
me strangely. "As for Gigantomastia, I'd be scared of introducing even 
more of it around here if we chose it as a project for a CD."

"Superstitious bitch! Actually, you'd have enjoyed it. We had a big enamel 
bath in the Thirds, and we stripped a girl and they all took turns washing 
her. We covered sponge-work, use of the flannel and loofah techniques. 
That was very popular, although we started out with five loofahs, and now 
we've only got four. It's a bastard."

"Maybe someone fell in love with it."

"I imagine they did, although how she concealed it about her person is 
anyone's guess. These are Third Formers we're talking about here."

"Hmm, I dunno!"

"Anyway, we got the girl so clean in the end, nobody recognised her by 
smell any more. It was young Toria."

"Gosh! Did they wash under her titties?"

"They washed under everything you could imagine. Scrubbed her until she 
was raw. They're writing up their results and observations tonight."

"Perhaps I ought to have had the Smooch and Wank classes do that, write 
up their results. I never thought..."

"It's not important, as long as they enjoyed themselves, they'll remember 
the message. The Giganto Project looks like fun, anyway."

We had reached her bedroom door, and she ushered me inside and 
indicated that I should get my gear off as a matter of urgency. I was naked 
and ready in eleven seconds, thanks to the quick-release feature on the 
ScatBra.

"What happened?" I asked, as I took Smegs's engorged clitoris between my 
lips. It was like meeting an old friend.

"We've got the five most ridiculously over-developed girls in the class ..."

"God, that would cause some friction." The rivalry in the Lower Sixth was 
notorious.

"It took some time, but we weighed the top ten candidates' boobs by water 
displacement. There could be no argument with scientific selection.

"How heavy were they? And how big?" I really needed to know this 
information.

"I don't know, apart from all five of them being well into three figures. 
That's inches, of course. Honestly! Data is still flowing in. As I say, we 
weighed their tits, but it seemed to take ages. And then we had to measure 
them comprehensively. Circumference, length, free length suspended, 
width, the lot. I'd better make a note to tell you later, when we find out." 
She scribbled in her diary, presumably something like 'tell Shan wts and 
bst mts of top 5/10 SuperBust grls in L 6th!'

"Anyway, there wasn't time to finish, but the entire class volunteered to 
stay behind and continue with the measuring. That's dedication!"

That's extreme horniness, I thought, taking a gulp of fresh air and going 
down for the third time. Smegs began bucking and thrashing around. That 
sort of thing makes my job so much more difficult, I have told her before. 
But in a strange way, no less enjoyable.


**********

The trouble with the shortage of teaching staff was that poor old Shan had 
no free periods. No sooner had Smegs and I finished than it was time to 
take on our classes for the afternoon. Smegs disappeared into the Lower 
Sixth's room again, where measuring was still continuing at a mind-
numbingly painstaking rate, while I pressed on to the science laboratory, 
where the angelic faces of the First Form gazed up at me. And because of 
our rushed lunch hour, I was still finding Smegs's pubic hairs between my 
teeth as I walked into the lab. Honest, I think that girl has a hair loss 
problem.

"Sit down, sit down!" To my astonishment, the entire class had stood up 
and greeted me in sing-song tones, 'Good-afternoon-Miss-Gruntworthy!' 
then they all subsided in giggles, the little bastards.

"Did you have a good lunch, Miss?"

"How was it for you, Miss?"

"Is it nice being a lezzie, Miss?" I thought that last one was Suzanne, 
although I couldn't put my hand on my heart and swear to it. It was only 
when I attempted to put my hand on my heart that I realised my big 
mistake. At some time during the proceedings, Smegs had removed my 
bra, the better to suck my nipples, and had neglected to put it back on 
again. The woman was so obsessed with her own pleasure that she forgets 
things like her lover's bra. I couldn't imagine how she had forgotten to tell 
me about it while she was putting my shirt back on.

My thingies were dangling down by my crotch, even inside my shirt, which 
was almost pulling out of my skirt. And with such a short skirt, if my tits 
fell out altogether, which was probably no more than two minutes away, 
all that a casual observer would have seen would have been a pair of 
socking great tits with legs sticking out underneath. If that happened, I 
would look ridiculous.

"Shall I go and fetch your bra, Miss?" asked Pansy kindly, in an 
unnecessarily loud voice.

"Thank you, Pansy," I said, hardly daring to breathe, "you'll find it .."

"Oh, it's all right, Miss. It will be in Miss Mountains's room, on the bed. I'll 
get it."

So she did. Such a sweet girl. It was several minutes before she came back, 
during which time the class sat in absolute silence.

"Here you are, Miss." Pansy had the brilliant lemon-yellow bra in her hand. 
"I ran into a few people who wanted to know whose bra it was. They 
guessed anyway. Yours is very nearly the biggest in the whole school!"

"Nearly? What do you mean, very nearly the biggest?"

"Oh, haven't you heard, Miss? A few of the girls in the Lower Sixth are 
claiming the school record. They're being measured right now!"

Why hadn't Smegs told me about this? Probably thought it wasn't that 
important! Typical! Pansy helped me, holding my blouse respectfully while 
I lowered my tits into the ScatBra and fastened all the hooks. I 
straightened up with a grunt, and the girls gasped in open admiration. 
Such sweet girls.

"Isn't it heavy, Miss," said Pansy. "It's much heavier than mine or 
Suzanne's. All those weights down the back. I hope mine never get too 
heavy, Miss."

Suzanne had no such reservations. "I don't mind, I hope mine get to weigh 
a ton each." Mild uproar greeted this statement.

"They won't, will they, Miss?"

"You can't have them that big, can you, Miss."

"My Mum would kill me if mine weighed a ton," predicted Shona 
confidently. "Even a ton the pair, not a ton each. My Dad would have to buy 
a special car just to carry my tits round, and that would make him mad."

Was this conversation really taking place? What was wrong with this 
school, with its obsession with the size of body parts and sexual pleasure? 
Shona was still droning on.

"... and my boyfriend, if I had a boyfriend, he'd have to buy a bigger car. 
He might need to buy a van so we could get in the back, 'cos the back seat 
of a car wouldn't be big enough for a girl with one-ton tits, and anyway, if 
we tried to shag in the back seat, we'd break the suspension. My Dad says 
mine are big enough to break his suspension now, and they're nowhere 
near a ton yet, although I'm still getting bigger all the time. Bigger and 
bigger all the time ..."

The other girls eyes glazed over as Shona continued her narrative. We 
moved away, leaving her to it.

"Now, then, girls. We have an important project this term."

The girls gathered round, feeling important.

"You have all seen the effects of our boob-juice, and you know how 
effective it can be. To a lesser extent, love and fuck are just as powerful. 
The problem is consistency. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. 
Sometimes it works a little bit, sometimes more than we want. The present 
batch seems to work too much, and then it carries on working, which can 
be a real nuisance for your mummies and daddies who have to buy you all 
those new bras."

The girls agreed with that, muttering among themselves, and nodding 
vigorously.

"The ScatBra is a boon, being so adjustable; how many of you wear them 
now?"

Four or five hands shot up proudly, among cries of 'I do, Miss', and 'look at 
mine, Miss!'

"Excellent. They look very good on you, too, apart from the colours. You 
may fasten your blouses now, thank you." The girls buttoned themselves 
up and I continued.

"Your task, and you have until Easter, is to identify the chemical which 
causes continued or delayed growth. It may be the slow-downer, or the 
speeder-upper. That's for you to find out."

Suzanne's hand was up.

"Can we use real girls, Miss? The trouble with mice is getting the dose 
right. Pigs might be better, but we can't find all that many pigs, can we. 
But we've got plenty of girls to test it out on."

"You can't do experimental work on your *friends*, Suzanne, can you!"

"What about girls we don't like, then?" Pansy said.

"Or girls we don't even know," enthused Suzanne. "There must be millions 
of girls we don't know. We could use those!"

I'd just had this brilliant idea. There must have been something wrong 
with me, even to think it. The St Cat's hedonistic fuck-you ethic was getting 
to me. I could hardly wait until classes ended and I could see Moggie. I 
knocked on her door.

"Shan! How nice. Sit down and take the weight off your shoulders. You may 
put your feet on the desk." She even sucked my toes as I told her the 
details of my idea. Now there are some things I don't think I could ever 
bring myself to do, and one of those would be to suck Chauntaille 
Gruntworthy's toes after a long day on her feet. Still, there's no accounting 
for taste. It was the sort of thing Tanya probably did, with her penchant 
for smelly things. Actually, I found Moggie's toe-sucking vaguely erotic, 
but then I find most things vaguely erotic.

"I was telling the First Form girls about their term project."

"Consistency of Sexual Chemistry?"

"That's the one, Miss. Anyway, I told them about the project and they 
asked if they could use real girls."

"Suzanne?"

"Of course. She suggested pigs, but where would we find enough pigs, as I 
told her. But then she said it would be all right if she didn't know the girls, 
and I thought ..."

"Foreign students, of course!" Moggie thumped her fist into her palm, and 
almost bit my toe off. "We could use the foreign students as guinea pigs. 
It's a great idea! That *was* your idea, wasn't it, Shan?"

"Well, yes, I suppose it was ..."

"Good. We will start tomorrow. The first foreign students could be arriving 
within days. They could be stripped and sprayed as part of their arrival 
and initiation. We can study them at leisure, and if any of them get too big 
to handle, we can ship them off home as unsuitable. Perfect!"

And I never thought I would see it happen, but Moggie stood up, walked 
round the desk and applied her mouth to mine. It was like snogging a sink 
plunger. She even tasted of my feet.

Smegs walked in at that moment, without knocking, unfortunately, but she 
sat patiently and waited for us to finish. It only took a few more minutes, 
and Smegs, with her finely-honed sense of timing, came three times.

"Megan. Good of you to come. And so often. Now, listen. Shan has had this 
tremendous plan!"





Part III





Chapter 7:- The Prospectus


"Miss Thunderbolt, I have had a change of heart. I think the idea is 
unsound, unethical and illegal. My conscience tells me that I have no 
alternative but hereby to tender my resignation with immediate effect. I 
bid you good day."

That pompous statement is what I should have said, and then swept out of 
her office, to start the first day of the remainder of my life.

"How soon will the girls start arriving?" I asked, excitedly. Smegs stood 
behind my chair, caressing my breasts, which she had deftly hoisted from 
my bra cups and hung over my shoulders for more easy access. She sucked 
on a nipple with a loud slurping sound, like a tramp drinking tea from a 
saucer.

Moggie consulted her notes. "Tomorrow, the first three. From Australia, 
France and Belgium. A mixed bunch. Here are their photographs." She 
handed them to me over the desk, looking at me strangely. "You look most 
unnerving, Shan, with your breasts upside down like that. Megan, could 
you lower one of them into its natural position and play with the other, 
please. Either one will do. My God, girl, one of those things ought to be 
more than enough for anyone!"

I blushed prettily at the compliment. Smegs grumbled but complied, 
lowering my left boob into my lap and carrying on with the right one, 
which, as we both knew, was slightly bigger. Greedy, that's Smegs. Just 
plain greedy.

I studied the photographs closely. They were frustratingly fuzzy, although 
the Australian girl looked interesting.

"We have several more arriving next week," Moggie went on. "It was our 
new prospectus that swung it. I rewrote the whole thing with more of an 
international flavour. Here!" She opened her desk drawer and handed me a 
thick, glossy brochure with a full colour photograph on the front cover.

"That's an old photo," I remarked. "Sports field, no chemical factory, no 
pantie soilery. This was before the school was burned down."

"Yes, lovely place, wasn't it!"

I buried my nose in the brochure. Where *was* this place, I thought. 
Sports facilites ... spacious gardens ... opportunites for private study ... 
swimming ... netball ... hockey. "We don't have *any* of this stuff any 
more."

"No problem," breezed Moggie, "we're not after the girls' minds, it's their 
bodies we want."

I read on. Ah, here was the international bit.

'St Catherine's High School for Girls,' it said, 'is set in five square kilometres 
of secluded woodland in the heart of rural England. It offers a unique 
education for girls from the age of eleven up to the time when they are 
ready for university. Home of the world-renowned St Cat's Academy for 
the Performing Arts, St Catherine's High School for Girls is recognised 
among devotees of girls' schools as second to any in the world.



'St Catherine's High School for Girls is a private, fee-paying school. Fees are 
inclusive of a number of benefits, which include ALL underwear and 
foundation garments, and (for overseas students) school uniform up to a 
maximum chest size of 100 inches (254cm). It is felt that the currently 
comparatively small number of girls whose bust circumference exceeds 
this size does not warrant provision of free uniform in sizes larger than 
this. A bespoke shirt and blazer tailoring service is however available at 
competitive prices.

'Also included in school fees is internal sanitary protection for regular girls. 
Girls who suffer from heavy flow are required to provide their own 
protection, although an arrangement is in force with a local store to supply 
students of St Catherine's High School for Girls with high-capacity sanitary 
protection at a discount of 15%. We regret that there can be no discount for 
girls whose periods have not yet started, or for pregnant girls. On medical 
advice, we have also discontinued our exclusive tampon exchange 
replacement service.

'St Catherine's High School for Girls offers FREE non-invasive breast 
enlargement to those girls who require it, although St Catherine's High 
School for Girls is unable to guarantee consistency in breast size. However, 
our experienced counsellors are on hand to offer comfort to those girls 
whose breasts fail to match up to, or down to, their expectations.

'St Catherine's High School for Girls can offer unrivalled facilities for 
chemically-enhanced love-making, especially with members of the same 
sex, although a limited supply of able-bodied young men is kept on the 
premises for the express purpose of providing relief for those girls who 
suffer from less conventional sexual urges.'



"This has gone out to parents?" I said.

"25,000 copies," said Moggie.

Smegs had been reading it over my shoulder. "Is that true what it says 
about sanitary protection?" she asked.

"Of course, it says so, doesn't it?"

"Nobody told us about it when we were students," I said, aggrieved. "I 
must have used hundreds of Tampax while I was here."

"You *do* need to use them ten at a time, Shan, darling," Smegs reminded 
me, her fingers tracing spiral patterns around my areola.

"You're missing the point," I said, and Smegs grasped my nipple tenderly. 
"It says here ..."

"Ladies, please!" said Moggie. "What we need to do is plan our campaign for 
dealing with our three new girls on their arrival. It is tomorrow morning, 
after all!"

We sat up and paid attention.


**********

"Right, we're agreed, then." Moggie summed up. "No special ceremony. 
They arrive, report straight to Labia's office, get allocated to classes, see 
Clit and Flaps for their uniforms, come in here for tit-spraying - the boob-
juice to be provided by the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group, Shan -  
then straight to their classes. Okay so far?"

"So far!" We nodded, and Smegs made a note in her book. I had a sudden 
thought.

"Why do they have to get their uniforms *before* they get boob-sprayed? 
Surely it would make sense to wait until they've finished growing before 
fitting them for shirts and blazers, let alone expensive bras?"

"Uniforms cost money, Shan," Moggie explained slowly, as if to a child. 
"Each uniform we sell, we make a small but significant profit. It is hardly 
our fault if a girl decides to grow enormous breasts *after* she has been 
fitted with a uniform, is it?"

"No, I suppose not, but ..."

"What would you do, have them walk around naked for a day or two, while 
their breasts reach the proper size?"

I could think of worse ideas, I thought. In fact, I considered Moggie's 
proposition and nodded eagerly. "Yes, please!" I said.

"It was a rhetorical question, Shan," said Smegs sadly.

"Don't see why."

"Anyway," Moggie resumed, "we will be in here to supervise the spraying 
of the girls. One can't be too careful."

"You mean, they are going to strip off in here in front of the three of us. 
Isn't that an infringement of their human rights?"

"No, Shan. This is Southern England. They don't have any human rights. 
Anyway, they won't be stripping off in here in front of the three of us. 
They will strip off in Miss Labia's office to save time. They can wait their 
turn out there. There's a chair next to the radiator, so they won't catch 
cold. Shit, spraying them won't take long. Just a quick inspection by the 
three of us, then Suzanne can spray their chests ..."

"Suzanne?" I squealed. "Her as well? That's four of us!"

"Six, actually. Pansy will be taking notes and Shona will be here in an 
observer's role. It *is* their mixture, Shan, you want to deny them the 
chance of using it themselves?"

"I know, Miss, but three of them? Okay, Suzanne, and Pansy I can 
understand, to make notes. But why Shona?"

"Because I enjoy looking at her," said Moggie, simply. "It makes me feel 
highly aroused. She's a superb example of the Considerably Fuller Figure. 
Actually, I was thinking she could be naked as well, to make the new girls 
feel more at ease. The more I think about it, the better it sounds."

I thought of a naked Shona as part of a welcoming committee for new girls. 
Well, it would be interesting. I had nothing against the Considerably Fuller 
Figure myself, not at all. Baps, after all, had a Considerably Fuller Figure, 
and she was one of my bestest friends. "All right, then."

"Thank you. Meeting closed. See you tomorrow morning. The girls arrive at 
nine. Shan, have your First Form Sexual Chemistry Group girls here for 
eight thirty. I know, it means an early start for them, but it will do them 
no harm to get up in the morning just once in their lives.


**********

I briefed the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group girls in their dormitory. 
They were simmering with excitement, and asked me to repeat the details 
again.

"Suzanne, you will spray the new girls when they are brought into Miss 
Thunderbolt's office. Pansy, you will take notes. Photographs, too, nothing 
elaborate, just front view, rear and both sides. Shona, you will be observer. 
Naked, of course, to make the new girls feel at ease."

"Why naked, Miss?"

"Because, Shona."

"That's no reason," she pouted. Schoolgirls who pout like that should be 
spanked until they can show contrition. The thought of it made me 
wringing wet.

"Miss Thunderbolt wants you naked," I drooled. "She deeply appreciates 
the Considerably Fuller Figure!"

"Gosh! Does she? Will I get better grades, do you think? My Dad will kill 
me if I don't get better grades than last term. All that money, and all we've 
got to show for it so far is a huge pair of tits and about a hundred pounds 
of puppy fat ..."

"See you in the morning, girls. Make a special effort with your uniforms, all 
right?"


**********

All right, perhaps I shouldn't have said that last bit. All I wanted was to 
see the girls smartly turned out, a credit to St Cat's. I had certainly not 
expected to see Suzanne and Pansy in the most obscenely short skirts it 
had ever been my misfortune to witness.

"Those skirts! What have you done?"

"Do you like them, Miss?" Pansy gave a twirl. "Mine's one of Danielle's, 
Miss. It's a bit tight, but I think it suits me. Really shows off my bum!"

It did, certainly. Danielle, if I remembered her right, was only four feet 
four tall, so her skirt revealed rather more of Pansy than was either 
advisable or strictly legal.

"Put your knickers on, at once, Pansy. You are a disgrace!"

"Oh, Miss, you're a rotten spoilsport." But she produced a pair of panties 
from her cleavage.

"What about mine, Miss," said Suzanne. At least, Suzanne was wearing 
knickers, the trouble was they were visible the whole time. And unless I 
was mistaken, they were yesterday's. The girl took after her mother.

"Is that another of Danielle's skirts?"

"Don't be daft, Miss. I'm miles bigger than her. Anyway, I tried one of hers, 
but it split. This is Juniper's. And one of her shirts."

I had been about to mention the shirt. It had not been designed to 
accommodate considerably more than five feet of bust. Suzanne gave the 
impression of having been left out in the rain to dry.

"You have five minutes to get back to your dorm and dress decently. 
Where's Shona?"

"She was getting ready. Here she comes now." And the girls flounced off in 
a riot of creamy thighs to slip into something less obscene.

Shona had walked all the way from the dorm to the office, naked. It was 
chilly outside, and her nipples were betraying the fact. I could have hung 
my hat on them, if I had been wearing a hat. In fact, if I had been wearing 
a crash helmet, I could have hung that on them as well. At least, her skirt 
wasn't too short, and she wasn't wearing yesterday's underwear.

"Very good, Shona. You look most presentable."

"My mum would kill me, Miss. All that money for uniforms and bras, and I 
have to walk around naked. She'd slaughter me."

So, the morning hadn't got off to the best of starts, but the two cousins did 
get back with their spray bottles and their own skirts and blouses, five 
minutes before the first of the new girls was due. They made little squeaks 
of excitement, giggling, wetting themselves occasionally and pretending to 
spray Shona's chest. Only a small squirt of the spray escaped, hitting her 
squarely in the cleavage, trickling unheeded down over the bulge of her 
belly, past her navel, then over the overhanging bulge to the mysteries 
beneath.

"My Mum'll kill me if you've made me any bigger," she predicted gloomily.

Moggie came in, rubbing her hands, followed by Smegs, in a ridiculously 
low-cut strapless top. What did she look like!

"Shona, you look positively gigantic," said Moggie.

"Thank you, Miss!" Shona blushed extremely prettily. The cousins 
twittered.

"Suzanne, Pansy. Are those your own skirts? You could have worn 
something a little more revealing on this occasion. Do they have time to 
change, Shan? They could borrow skirts from one of the shorter girls."

"They just did, Miss, they looked obscene." Suzanne gave a pleased snort. 
Pansy wriggled her bottom.

"Pity, I wish I'd seen them." She sighed. "Your decision, I suppose, they're 
your girls after all, but ..."

Miss Labia looked round the door with a harrassed expression.

"The first girl is ready, Miss. The other two are stripping. Shall I send her 
in?"

"Yes, we'll see her now. Positions, everyone!"

The door opened, and Miss Labia entered. "Miss Warninck-De Weiss," she 
announced.





Chapter 8:- Even Bigger New Girls At St Cat's 


Miss Labia stood aside to let Miss Warninck-De Weiss through into the 
office. Six pairs of eyes stared eagerly at the doorway.

"Miss Warninck-De Weiss," burbled Moggie. "What a pleasure to see ..." She 
stopped, her mouth agape. "You're not the girl in the photograph!"

"Oh, yes. It was three years ago. Now I am sixteen, I am looking more 
grown-up."

That wasn't the word for it. But I should explain. I mean, I was there, 
watching Miss Warninck-De Weiss walk into the office, so I knew what she 
looked like. My readers weren't, and didn't. The photograph in the file 
showed a bonny pig-tailed blonde girl wearing a velvet dress. Her plump 
little cheeks were like ripe peaches, and her body showed promise of 
fullness yet to be realised.

Miss Warninck-De Weiss was now, as she said, more grown-up. At least, 
she was still a pig-tailed blonde, although since she was not wearing a 
velvet dress, nor any sort of dress, her body showed a fullness realised in 
spades. Miss Warninck-De Weiss stood there, wobbling. I was closest to 
her. I thrust a probing finger into the multiple love-handles piled up 
between her hips and waist. She made no comment, so perhaps she didn't 
feel it. Too many pommes frites with mayonnaise.

The large Belgian girl gazed around at her reception committee. Two of the 
girls, she saw, were obviously students: wearing mid-thigh-length skirts 
and burstingly-full blouses with horizontal neckties, they must have struck 
Miss Warninck-De Weiss as curiously young and strangely well-developed. 
One of them, holding a spray-bottle, was unaccountably standing on a 
chair, revealing wondrously meaty thighs. A third girl, with a Considerably 
Fuller Figure, was naked. It made Miss Warninck-De Weiss feel more at 
her ease.

Then there were the three adults. The tall blonde one was wearing a 
ridiculously low-necked strapless top which revealed huge, rounded 
breasts, almost the smallest in the room apart from Pansy's and Miss 
Warninck-De Weiss's own. And the woman who had greeted her, that 
would be Miss Thunderbolt, ja? And she was wearing an even lower-cut 
strapless sweater revealing enough cleavage to bury your face in.

Miss Warninck-De Weiss looked at me. She would have seen another young 
woman, wearing an even lower-cut strapless top and three feet of 
cleavage: although as a good European, she would have thought of it as the 
best part of a metre. The top halves of my areolae were exposed by my 
new prototype ScatBra ShowItAll, For That Special Occasion. I allowed 
more of my upper regions to be visible as I am still a little self-conscious 
about the inches and pounds I have added to my waist and hips. I know 
that perhaps they are a sign of encroaching womanhood, but you know 
how it is.

But where was I? Before her, Miss Warninck-De Weiss saw a young woman 
wearing an even lower-cut strapless top and three feet of cleavage - who 
had recently thrust a probing finger into her love-handles.

"What's your first name?" I asked Miss Warninck-De Weiss.

"Isabella."

"Good. Suze, spray Isabella!"

Suzanne gave Isabella a good soaking. She evidently considered Isabella to 
be in need of considerable development to bring her up to St Cat's exacting 
standards. Isabella staggered back, gasping.

"It's COLD!" she shrieked. "What is it?"

"It's a special spray which all immigrants to Great Britain must receive by 
law," explained Moggie.

"It is strawberries, ja?"

"That's right, strawberries. Makes you feel fruity."

Steady on, Smegs, don't joke about it. It might just have that effect.

"Don't forget your pictures, Pansy," I reminded her.

"I had to change lenses," she muttered, "I couldn't get her all in the frame."

"Enjoy yourself at St Cat's," said Moggie, as Pansy aimed her camera 
approximately at Isabella's bulk. "Go and get dressed, then go to classes. 
You are late already. Your first one is Birth Control: The Basics, with Cindy 
Doubleday. Do try and catch up with what you have missed. This morning, 
you will learn about putting on a condom without using your hands. Carry 
on! Next, please, Miss Labia!"

Isabella Warninck-De Weiss blundered out of the doorway to find her 
clothes. I faintly heard Miss Labia's voice complaining at her. "Come on, 
you fat Belgian lummock, get yer bloody gear on and get your flabby great 
arse out of my soddin' office!" There was a sound of sobbing in a European 
accent.

"For fuck's sake! Here's yer next one. Miss ... er ... Mademoiselle 
Pamplemousse."

"Do I know that name from somewhere?" Smegs wondered.

"Must be fairly common in France," I told her. And as a result of talking to 
Smegs, I failed to clock la Pamplemousse's entrance. Well, I failed to see 
her come into the room. My nose became aware of her presence, to put it 
as delicately as possible. As soon as I turned round I saw her main 
entrance, which was concealed behind what was indisputably the hairiest 
pubic area I had ever been privileged to see in my life. I mean, you 
remember the ex-headmistress? The one who shaved every day and 
stuffed cushions with her pussy-hair? Forget her. This Pamplemousse 
wench made the ex-headmistress look bald as a badger. Is that right, 
badger? Are badgers bald?

Anyway. Demi Pamplemousse, for that was her name, wasn't bald. She 
didn't have a bald follicle anywhere on her body. Or her legs. Or her arms. 
Even her head was covered in hair, although not nearly as much as she had 
further down. I hope I don't get accused of stereotyping. I mean, some 
French girls, especially the dark-haired ones, do seem to wear their body 
hair a little on the luxuriant side. In Demi's case, I just report what I saw.

I make no apology if I give the impression that French girls have an 
aversion to soap and water.

"Christ, you're like a bleedin' gorilla," Moggie greeted her. "She leaned 
closer, inspecting Demi more closely. "She's even got hair on her nipples, 
look."

Smegs looked. So did I. Then we backed away as Demi's French peasant 
odour assailed our nostrils.

"Give her a squirt, Suze!"

"What eez it?" bleated Demi as Suzanne took aim.

"Deodorant," I said, and Demi shuddered at the hateful thought.

Suzanne had considerately warmed the bottle on the radiator, which must 
have made it more pleasant as it struck Demi between her firm little titties 
and formed beads of moisture on all her hairs. She looked as if she had 
been outside on a foggy night, glistening with little drops of moisture. She 
sparkled in the flash of Pansy's camera.

"Ou!" she cried. She even spelled it like that. "Ou!" I found it strangely 
appealing, and before I could stop myself, I reached out and cupped the 
nearer of her breasts. "Ou!" she said, again, licking her lips and looking at 
me out of the corner of her eye with a little moue. We exchanged make-
believe kisses while Suzanne and Pansy rolled their eyes to the ceiling in 
exasperation.

"Okay, get the hairy frog out of here," snarled Moggie. "We've still got 
another to see this morning. Demi, enjoy your first lesson, it's ..." she ran 
her finger down a list "... Fourth Form Maths. Periodic Tables. 28-Day 
Cycles and everything. On yer way!"

She passed from the room in a haze of strawberry-and-sweat fragrance, 
running her carmine-painted nails across the upper slopes of my left 
breast in a friendly manner.

"Who's the other one," said Smegs. "The Oz girl?"

"That's right ..."

Moggie stopped, speechless as the Oz girl burst in unannounced.

"G'Day," she greeted us, predictably enough. "Shaynette McDermott," she 
announced, breezily.

"Jeezus!" said Suzanne, looking at her spray bottle, and snapping her 
fingers at Shona to hand her another bottle from the radiator.

"She's in the Lower Sixth," said Smegs, in awe.

"She'll certainly fit in there," gasped Moggie.

At least, I don't need to describe Shaynette, you've worked it out for 
yourselves. Pansy circumnavigated the Australian girl's gargantuan 
breasts, taking photos from every conceivable angle.

"It's made a mess of the Giganto Project," complained Smegs. "We'll have to 
drop the smallest of the top five and slip Shaynette in at Number One."

"No contest!" I said, finding my voice. Shaynette was only a tiny thing, 
apart from her stupendous bust. What had they been feeding her on, for 
fuck's sake, forgive my language. You could see more than half of those 
things from behind her, even with both arms by her sides. "What's holding 
them up?" I cried. "Things like that are going to put ScatBras out of 
business!"

Shaynette looked over her shoulder at me, her eyes pausing briefly on my 
twin dirigibles. "Just muscle power, lady. I played Oz Rules Football until I 
got these things on my chest last year. I was flat as a dingo's armpit until I 
was sixteen. Shit! Me ma was gonna chuck me out for bringin' shame on 
the McDermott clan, then I sprouted the biggest set of tits between Dogga 
Dogga an' Witchety Creek. Christ!" She turned her friendly open features on 
Moggie, who went pale. "You gonna let me get me kit back on, I'm freezin' 
me bleedin' nips off in here?"

"Warm her up, Suze!" I commanded.

Suze raised her spray.

"No!" screamed Moggie. "Not her! She's too big already!"

Suze faltered, looking to me for a lead. "Do it," I gritted.

"Shan, you fool," shouted Smegs, "you can't do this!"

"Who can't. Just watch me. Just squeeze that trigger, Suzanne!"

"Go on, Suze, squeeze it," yelped Pansy.

"Her Mum will kill her," said Shona.

And Suzanne socked it to Shaynette with both bottles, throwing the empty 
one away and continuing with the other until Shaynette was drenched 
from head to foot.

"Bloody hell!" We all said that.

"You certainly gave her a good dose, Suze," I reproached her. "Does anyone 
have the number of the Guinness Book of Records?"

"You might as well get dressed and come to your next class with me, 
Shaynette," said Smegs, I'm your teacher. We're doing a little project on 
Gigantomastia in Modern Schools. You'll soon pick it up, you seem to be a 
fairly outgoing girl."

We heard Shaynette in the outer office, chivvying Miss Labia to rub her 
tits for Chrissakes, before the bastards turned to icicles and dropped off.

"Well, that seems to be that," I sighed. "Got your pictures, Pan?" She tapped 
her camera confidently. "Off you go, then. See you in ten minutes in the 
lab." The girls left, chattering animatedly among themselves.

"Open a window, Shan," said Moggie, "before we start growing tits 
ourselves. I wish you hadn't sprayed Shaynette. She could become an 
encumbrance if she gets any bigger. Imagine the bills if we have to widen 
the doors. She's already going to need a special double bed in the dorm, 
and if she has one, half the others will want one as well. As for bras and 
shirts and blazers, I don't know what we're going to do, I really don't."

"It was an ideal scientific opportunity to test the boob juice on an already 
gigantically-developed girl," I insisted. "A naturally-endowed girl. That's 
why I overruled your command. I am sorry, Miss, but it was the only 
decision I could have made."

"Suzanne certainly agreed with you. Was it necessary to use *quite* so 
much?"

"She got a bit carried away, I'll admit. Just youthful enthusiasm. The true 
spirit of St Cat's!" 


**********

"Jeez, Suze, you used it all on that Shaynette. There was enough there for a 
whole hockey team."

"That's all right," said Suzanne cheerfully, "Shaynette had enough tit for a 
whole hockey team. She needed it."

"I don't know if it works that way," mused Pansy, uncertainly. "Does it, 
Miss?"

"I don't know, either, Pan. None of us do. But with the help of Isabella, and 
Demi and Shaynette, we may soon know more. They'll be here at nine 
tomorrow - nude and ready - and again the day after that. So make sure 
you have enough film. Now, Pansy, take your film down to the St Cat's 
Pornography Centre, and get the girls to process it carefully. 12 by 8-inch 
prints off each. Get a spare set for the Junior IT Studies Group to scan and 
post on the erotica newsgroups by tonight."

"Yes, Miss." She hurried off, bouncing heavily.

"Shona, you may get dressed now, thank you."

"Yes, Miss."

"Suzanne, I want you to document the exact constituents of the spray you 
used this morning. We need to know how fast it acts, among other things. 
Thinking back, we should perhaps have run a control on another girl and 
kept her under close observation."

"Excuse me, Miss, but we did."

"You did?"

"That squirt that hit Shona. We could observe her, and see if she starts to 
grow any more."

"I suppose so. Shona, take your top off again. Not your bottom, spare us 
that at least. Just your blouse and bra. Oh, my God, not already!"

Yes, already. Shona began to sob as she looked down at her chest, which 
had started noticeably to swell even more than before.

"Oooh, Shona, look at them!"

"Bloody hell, Sho!"

"Look out, she's going to EXPLODE!"

I don't know which child said that, but the rest of the class screamed and 
scattered, leaving only Shona and Suzanne together in the middle of the 
lab. Somewhat illogically, they both cowered down in terror.

"There's no need for panic!" I cautiously raised my head above the edge of 
the bench and shouted over the uproar. "Shona's not going to explode. 
Look, she's not getting any bigger now. She only had a little squirt of the 
stuff."

Not like Shaynette. Nor the other two new girls, who'd had nowhere near 
as much, but still ten times as much as Shona.

One at a time, then in twos and threes, we crept out from cover, edging 
toward the two scared girls, ready to hurl ourselves back behind the 
benches again if Shona showed any signs of starting to explode.

"My Mum's gonna murder me," Shona assured us.





Chapter 9:- Eureka!


"What's this, Polly?" I said, taking the piece of paper the girl handed me. 
Polly was from the Junior IT Studies Group, so she had probably singled 
me out because it was something to do with the new girls' photos they'd 
posted on the Net.

It was a printout of a bunch of messages. I read it.



"Dumb shit, just another bunch of morphed shots!"

"We wanna see real tits, not morphed crap!"

"stop 'enhancing' women, dOOdZ, shaynette is beautiful ***without*** those 
blimps!!?!?? 8-(  "

"Small ones are best!"

"She's fake fake fake, like Zena Fulsom and Tina Small and Vicky Little, 
you shits."

"Meee tooo!"



And much more of the same.

"They don't believe our pictures of Shaynette, Miss. What's the matter with 
the world?"

I don't know.

"Wait until they see the next set, Polly," I told her. "They'll believe those 
even less."

Pansy had just delivered her film to the St Cat's Pornography Centre. The 
girls of the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group were still buzzing. Only 
Suzanne, Pansy and Shona had seen the three new girls before, so it was a 
shock when, one at a time, the three of them wandered into the chemistry 
lab, stark naked, to be greeted by Pansy with the camera. There was more 
room in the lab than there had been in Moggie's office, so Pansy didn't 
need her wide angle lens for Isabella.

Polly had hung around to see the subjects of the bandwidth-guzzling 
responses with her own eyes, and she was not disappointed. Behind her 
unusually large spectacles, her eyes seemed even bigger than saucers. One 
would think she had never seen a naked girl in the flesh before. Possibly 
she hadn't. Who knows?

The spray didn't seem to have made much difference to Isabella's boobs, 
not yet, at least. The girls oo-ed and ah-ed as they crowded round her, 
thrusting probing fingers into her love-handles. I thought of telling them 
to stop it, but Isabella didn't seem to notice anyway.

When little hairy Demi came in - looking round for me, I like to think - 
they gasped anew and even louder.

"She's even got a moustache," said one girl.

"Look at the bush on her," said another, who had evidently studied adult 
literature.

"She could do with a bath," added a third, which was a bit of an out-of-
order comment, coming from a First Form girl.

Demi's little boobs had expanded noticeably, and her puffy nipples seemed 
to promise more to come. She flinched when she caught sight of Suzanne, 
as if she anticipated another burst of spray, but nothing happened apart 
from a volley of flash photos from Pansy.

Finally, it was the turn of Shaynette, and Pansy, exasperated, rolled her 
eyes to the ceiling and reached into the camera bag for the 20mm lens.

"Wow! Hey, kewl!" exclaimed Polly as the more or less diminutive 
Australian girl stepped forward. Polly was evidently influenced by the 
speech patterns of the more academically-inclined users of the 
Information Superhighway.

"I dunno what you put in that spray, you kids, but I ain't 'ad me jacksy off 
the dunny since yez'dy arvo." The girls, brought up on a diet of Australian 
television, nodded eagerly. Polly took it upon herself to act as translator 
for my benefit.

"She's got the runs," she whispered, "since yesterday afternoon. She blames 
the boob spray."

Shaynette seemed not to have noticed the other significant effect of the 
spray. Perhaps she hadn't had time to look in a mirror yet, although there 
was a full length mirror just outside the lavatories. More than likely, her 
superior muscle tone made light work of an extra ten pounds or so on each 
side of her generously-sculpted chest.

"Fer fuck's sake, mate, dincha get enough pitchers last time? What sorta 
school is this, anyway, all this nude stuff. Buncha pervoes, the fuckin' lotta 
yer!"

"She's expressing dissatisfaction with St Cat's, Miss," Polly informed me.

"How big is that bloody Oz girl now," said Smegs, appearing at my side. "It's 
all very well, but I'm the one who has to take the shit from the Lower 
Sixth. Just when they thought they'd established a pecking order, along 
comes a skinny little Australian girl with the biggest tits in the whole 
world. And not content with that, Tanya's little raver of a daughter has to 
try and make her even bigger!"

"I think it's beginning to work, too," I said. "Although Shaynette doesn't 
seem to have noticed."

"The rest of the Lower Sixths have. They're starting to look ugly."

I didn't point out that several of the Lower Sixth girls had always looked 
reasonably ugly to me, but then again, some of them are so absurdly 
beautiful that if I wasn't a teacher at St Catherine's High School for Girls, I 
would willingly and gladly eat three square meals a day from their 
glistening minges.

"Anyway, Pansy's finished with her. We'll be getting back to the Giganto 
Project." Smegs sighed heavily. "Look at the girl. Have you ever seen 
anything so absolutely preposterous?"

"Probably not," I replied, after due consideration. Yet, somehow, Shaynette 
didn't appeal to me sexually for some reason. I can appreciate a pair of 
barrage-balloon-sized breasts on a slim young girl as much as the next 
man, but somehow I found myself strangely more attracted to the hirsute 
and odoriferous Demi Pamplemousse.

Shaynette came towards us, buttoning her shirt and beaming at Smegs. 
"Ready to go, Megs?" She collided with my breasts with a heavy thump. 
"Fuck me, sorry, teacher! I don't usually do that. Either I've grown six 
inches or you have."

To my surprise, she tucked her arm into Smegs's and the two of them 
bounced off in the direction of the Lower Sixth classroom. Had these two 
got something going? Have to ask Smeggsy later.

I felt someone touching my breast, and looked down.

"Oops, sorry, Miss, I thought it was your arm," blushed Polly, short-
sightedly.

"That's all right, Polly, the pleasure was mine," I told her, but the subtlety 
was lost on the girl. "Was there something else?"

"Well, yes, Miss, there was, in fact. It's Rumiko, Miss."

"Rumiko? What about her? She's not in your class is she? Aren't you in the 
Thirds?"

"Yes, Miss. But its the Junior IT Studies Group, Miss. She keeps coming into 
the computer lab and tidying up, Miss. We can never find anything."

"She tidies up? What do you mean?"

"Well, at first, she came in and looked around, and bowed a bit, and so did 
we. Well, it's rude not to, Miss." I agreed with her on that. "And she kept 
lining up all the hardware and peripherals in straight lines, laying all the 
leads and cables in neat bundles, stacking up the diskettes in neat little 
straight-sided heaps. But then yesterday, she came in with an iron and an 
ironing board, and she took all the curtains down and ironed them. And 
there was the usual black plastic bag in the bin by the door, you know? 
Where we put our used panties for the organic soilery?"

"There was?" This was a new one on me. The Junior IT Studies Group, 
donating knickers to the pantie soilery?

"It was Miss Mountains's idea, Miss. Some of get very wet when we're 
discussing the relative merits of network systems, Miss."

"Ah, of course. I understand that sort of thing is not confined to girls, Polly. 
Do carry on."

"Well, she ironed all the used knickers, Miss. The stink was terrible, Miss. 
All that steam! Anyway, she ironed them all flat and crisp, and stacked 
them in a neat pile. But worst of all, Miss ..."

"There's more?"

"... she logged on to my machine and tidied up all my directories. I can't 
find anything. I came back in, I'd only gone for a shit, Miss, and ..." she 
hesitated and blushed.

"Go on, Polly."

"... and a wank, Miss ..."

"A wank, Polly? You?"

"I'm in love with someone, Miss. I wank ten times a day, just thinking 
about her. Ooooh!" She shuddered and came as I tried not to stare at her. "I 
can't tell you her name, Miss."

"I wouldn't dream of asking, Polly," I said, handing her a roll of tissue 
paper.

"Thanks, Miss," she said, raising a pudgy bluish-grey leg and blotting 
herself dry. "Where was I, Miss?"

"God knows!"

"I remember, Miss. I came back from the loo, and she got up from my 
chair, and bowed, and so did I, and she said, 'there you are, Porry, I save 
you ten Megs. Storage space at premium.' That's what she said, Miss. And 
my chair was warm where she'd been sitting on it, Miss."

Well, it would be, wouldn't it. "Don't you have a password, Polly?" I am 
learning a little about these things.

"Of course, Miss, it's FRED, Miss."

"I should change it, if I were you."

"But we all use FRED, Miss. Miss Albatross told us to, last year."

"Change it to RUMIKO, she'll never think of that. Meanwhile, I'll have a 
word with our Miss Tsujimoto, Polly. Now, off you go, and see if there's 
been any more response to our girls on the Net, okay? No, keep the roll of 
tissue."

"Thanks, Miss," she said happily, and turned to go. "Oh, it's Toria, Miss, 
she's got THE most amazing tits," she said mysteriously.

"Toria? What about her ...?" But Polly had already gone.


**********

Did Polly mean she was in love with Toria? Poor girl. If Toria took a shine 
to her she could look forward to a sore bottom and little else. But I had no 
time to wonder what Polly had meant, as a cry of 'Eureka ' rang out from 
the back of the lab. Shit, not another breakthrough for modern science.

"What is it, Suzanne?"

"Eureka, Miss," Suzanne repeated, helpfully. "It means ..."

"No, Suzanne, what have you discovered?"

"I've found an area of potential discrepancy, Miss. With the slower-
downer. Look!"

I looked. She had a number of samples of a white powder in a rack of test 
tubes. She picked up one.

"The samples labelled 'A' are from one manufacturer, those labelled 'B' are 
from another. Now watch!" With a flourish, she added the white powder to 
a simmering beaker. It turned yellow, as usual. "Now watch sample 'B'". 
She repeated the process with a second beaker. It turned an evil green, 
and with a low 'whump', burst into flames.

"Shit!" said Suzanne, "it's getting fuckin' worse!" She turned off the Bunsen 
burner flame and we watched the beaker for a few seconds as the flames 
guttered and went out. Soot hung in the air, descending on to the upper 
slopes of Suzanne's white lab coat like negative snow. "It didn't catch fire 
last time until I'd stirred it with a stick, Miss. But anyway, the two samples 
are supposed to be the same chemical."

"Excellent thinking, Suzanne. Complete your notes carefully. Now, what 
about the latest batch, the mixture we used on the three new girls, and on 
Cassie and Mona? Was it made with sample 'A' or 'B'?"

"'B', Miss. From Acme Chemicals and Novelties Company. Recommended by 
Miss Thunderbolt, Miss. Apparently they're twenty per cent cheaper, 
Miss."

"Good work, Suzanne!" I placed an arm encouragingly round her shoulder, 
covering my shirt sleeve with soot. She snuggled against me in a decidedly 
friendly manner and I jerked away, looking round for snooping policemen. 
"One thought occurs to me. Are we using any more of Acme's chemicals in 
the school? Anything at all?"

"I haven't looked yet, Miss. I only found this thing this morning. It would 
explain your mother's wooden spoon catching fire, Miss! That was great, 
watching you hopping around the scullery with that spoon on fire. Your tits 
were bouncing all over the place, Miss!"

"Well, yes, they do. They are rather large, as you know."

"I want mine to be as big as yours, Miss. I think they're *excellent*!"

"Thank you, Suzanne. But you are one of the lucky ones. Yours will 
probably get to be huge quite naturally. Promise me you will never dabble 
in enlarging your own breasts by chemical means."

"Gosh, Miss. I wouldn't dream of it. Me and Pansy, and Toria, we take after 
our Mums. Anyway, we're having plenty of fun enlarging all the rest of the 
school. Do you think we could do it, Miss?"

"Do what?"

"Enlarge the whole school. I've worked it all out. If we did them class by 
class, we could work our way down to the First Formers by the end of next 
term, then all we'd have to do would be to keep up with new girls, and 
they could be done all in one go on their first morning. We could do all the 
other schools after that, Miss! Or we could keep it to ourselves, like a 
secret. St Cat's could be the only school in the country where every single 
girl graduates with a hundred-inch bust! I want our girls to be used for 
selective breeding so that future generations of girls will be bigger and 
bigger."

"Certainly a staggering idea, Suzanne. Well worth thinking about."

"When I'm Head Girl, in six years time, I want St Cat's to be on television 
every day, with our girls taking their bras off to wow the viewers with 
their ten-foot tits. And breeding, too, Miss. Right there in front of the 
cameras, sitting on boys' faces. That's what I want," she ended modestly.

"It's good to have an ambition, Suzanne, and yours is a fine ambition." She 
still didn't quite have the procreative mechanism entirely clear in her 
mind, but there was plenty of time for that.

"Let me have the results tomorrow, and I will confront Miss Thunderbolt 
about the Acme affair. Carry on, Suzanne!"





Part IV





Chapter 10:- Numbers Game


"Well, any fan mail, Polly?" The bespectacled girl stared at me blankly. 
"From the Net? Any fan mail about the photos?"

"Oh, Miss. I thought you meant something else. I was thinking of 
somebody!" She went bright red and for all I knew, enjoyed a spontaneous 
orgasm. Then I revised my estimate. She hadn't enjoyed a spontaneous 
orgasm, she was still doing her best to enjoy one by pressing her crotch 
against the corner of my desk. "Ooooh, Toria, my sweetest darling!" The 
poor girl had got it bad.

"What was the question again?" she asked, some time later.

"Oh, are you back with us, Polly? What about the fan mail about our new 
girls' pictures?"

Polly was slowly recovering. "Oh, yes, Miss. Quite a load of it. You know 
they said were morphing the pictures? Well, I sent a message and said we 
weren't and told them to go fuck themselves, Miss."

"Oh yes? What did they say?"

"Here it is, Miss, I printed it all out."

I had a touch of the old deja vu again. I thought, this feeling of having 
been here before, I've had it before. I read the replies on the sheet.



"Dumb shit, Quit morphing or we strike!"

"We know real tits when we see them, this is a load of morphed crap!"

"stop 'enhancing' women, dOOdZ, shaynette is beatifull ***without*** those 
blimps!!?!?? 8-(  "

"Small ones are best!"

"These are fake fake fake, just like Zena Fulsom and Tina Small. Cindy 
Fulsom's real!"

"Meee tooo!"

"Wow, what are the measurements of those chicks?"



"I see." I handed the paper back to Polly.

"Can we measure them, Miss. You know what Americans are like about 
numbers!"

No, I thought, I don't. I don't even think I ever met one, apart from 
Tanya's Grandma Trudy. She did seem to have an obsession with 
measurements, come to think about it, but I had put it down to her being 
such a vast-bosomed woman herself, surrounded with vast bosomed young 
women.

"I suppose we'd better, then, Polly!" Got to keep the punters happy.

"Oooh, goody-goody!"

Look, don't blame me, she actually said 'goody-goody'. And she clapped her 
hands together until her glasses fell off. "All right," I said. "In the lab, first 
thing tomorrow morning."


**********

"Would you see me after school, Rumiko, please? In my room, you know 
where that is?"

"Ah, Miss. The other girus they say I should not say Just Pray Miss to you, 
just say Miss, awright?"

"Thank you, Rumiko," I said, my head spinning, "Miss would be fine."

She knocked on my door at four o' clock.

"Rumiko, come in, thank you for coming. Tea?"

"Thank you." We bowed briefly to one another.

"I'm sorry about the lack of furniture in here, I broke my chair." We knelt 
on the floor as I poured tea into two cups. "How do you take it?"

"I beg your pardon?" said Rumiko, startled.

"Your tea? Sugar? Milk? No, not milk. It won't be very nice with lemon, it's 
Tesco's cheapest teabags."

"Ah, my tea! I thought you mean how I take it. Rike up the behind?"

We sipped in silence for a while. Such statements always tend to put a 
damper on polite conversation.

"Now, I have heard you are a very tidy girl, Rumiko. You enjoy tidying 
things up, putting things away, ironing things?"

"Ah, Miss." She leapt to her feet, moving with lissom grace despite her 
rebounding bust, and started darting round the room, plumping up the 
cushions. Papers and books disappeared into neat piles beneath her 
delicate little hands. It was a magical performance. "Tomorrow. I come, an' 
iron your knickers..."

"No, Rumiko, it isn't *necessary* to iron knickers."

"No, but I enjoy! I come." She bowed again and reversed toward the door, 
unerringly, opened it and backed out into the corridor.

Well, I thought, that went rather well, Shan.


**********

All this rushing around might do a little to reduce my blossoming hips and 
waistline. I staggered into the bra production facility and slumped into an 
armchair.

"Miss Gruntwurvy, you poor ole fing, you look shagged out. 'Ere, 'ave a mug 
of tea."

"Oh, fanks - thanks, Clit. I'm knackered, straight up." I took a slurp, and Clit 
watched me with approval.

"Yeah, get that down yer neck, put 'airs on yer chest, that stuff will."

For some reason that reminded me of Demi. And that reminded me of 
Isabella Warninck-De Weiss. Not to mention Shaynette.

"What can we do for you, then?" Clit said.

"I wanted to borrow a tape measure, please."

"Wot? You settin' up in business. 'Ere, Flaps, we got competition, young 
Miss Gruntwurvy's going into bras."

"She's wot?" Flaps came in, stark naked, about a dozen gaudily-coloured 
bras festooned around her neck.

"She wants to borrow a tape. Shall we let 'er 'ave it?"

"Ain't yer got one over there, then?"

"Not long enough. We've only got my ten-foot one."

"Jeez, who 'ave you got over there? That Miss Clarrie?"

"No, it's a new Australian girl. Called Shaynette. Only a little shrimp of a 
thing, she is, but ..."

"... but bleedin' great tits by the sound of 'er," giggled Flaps. "Well, yer 
welcome to our fifteen footer, but we've got somebody comin' in. Friends of 
yours. From your home village."

"From Fillamore Deepleigh, coming here? Who? Why?"

"For bras, why else would anyone come and see us?" Clit pretended to 
adjust her hair. She got up and reached for an overall hanging on a hook 
behind the door. I watched with regret as her generous curves 
disappeared inside it.

"It's ol' Mona, and young Cassie. Their old ones seem to 'ave shrunk!"

"Both of them? Couldn't they read the washing instructions?"

"Well, maybe the bras didn't shrink, the girls grew!"

"Oh, no," I said, "not more, not those two. What have they done to deserve 
this?"

"Well, some people were just born lucky," said Flaps, slipping into her 
overall. "You goin' to hang around and see them, are yer?"

"Well, why not. Always good to see old friends after so long. It must be all 
of a week since."


**********

"Shan!"

"Lo, Auntie Shan!"

"Cassie! Mona! How's it going? I didn't know you were coming, until I 
dropped in to borrow a long tape measure. We've got a big Australian girl 
to measure in the morning."

"Gosh! It's all go around here, isn't it," said Mona. "All these bras. Don't they 
do anything else here? I thought it was supposed to be a school."

"Well, we do a bit of teaching with the girls, when we're not actually 
measuring them."

"Golly, what do they learn, Auntie Shan?"

"All the usual things, plus dancing - all sorts of dancing - and the girls 
learn lots of exciting new ways of giving pleasure to others, and 
themselves."

"Oh, it sounds lovely, Auntie Shan. I wish I could come here, but it's so 
expensive, Mum says."

"I'm sure Baps could afford it, Cassie, and you certainly look old enough."

"I know, Auntie Shan, but I'm no age at all ..."

Clit came into the cramped little waiting room and plonked down a box of 
bras. "Try one of these, Mona, sorry about the colours."

Mona dug into the box and came up with a relatively quietly-coloured one. 
She stripped off her shirt and dangled herself into it. I remembered our 
few hours of lust. I could have done with getting my head between those 
things. Mona was noticeably bigger. She now looked dangerously close to 
falling over at any moment.

"You com wiv me, luvvie," said Flaps, clicking her fingers at Cassie. "We're 
going to need to measure you again, I'm afraid. Then we can give you a bra 
wiv room to grow."

Cassie lumbered out into the workshop. Mona fastened her last button and 
turned this way and that before the mirror. "Hey, she looks great, don't 
she, Miss Gruntwurvy," said Clit.

"I like the way she can stand up with it on. If she took it off, she'd fall 
over," I agreed with her.

"Funny how everyone talks about 'er as if she wasn't there. I noticed when 
I saw 'er the first time."

"Yeah!"

"Look at this one, then," announced Flaps, leading Cassie back into the 
room. "Dan-da-da-dan-da-da-daaaa!"

"Bloody hell, Cassie! You're positively gargantuan!"

She blushed prettily.


**********

But when I got back to the main accommodation block, they were all in a 
right old state. Moggie and Smegs were hopping up and down.

"Chauntaille, there you are. Where have you been this last two hours? We 
thought you'd been abducted."

"Abducted? I've been across at the bra factory, borrowing a tape measure 
for the morning. The Superhighway wants us to tell it the measurements of 
the new girls."

Smegs clutched my arm. Her eyes were all red. "We thought you gone out 
into the woods and been attacked. There's this bloke ..."

"Which bloke?"

"On television", said Moggie. "A prowler has been seen, he attacks girls. He 
specialises in busty young girls."

"We thought he'd had *you*," Smegs was holding on even tighter. I do 
believe she had been missing me, the old softie.

"I'm back, it's all right," I pulled her head down to my bosom and she 
didn't resist. In fact, she bagan to nuzzle on my nipple, which I thought 
showed her remarkable powers of recovery. "They had two customers in 
for new bras," I explained to Moggie. "Mona and Cassie, from Fillamore 
Deepleigh!" 

"What, them again?" Smegs surfaced, leaving teardrops drying on my 
upper slopes. "They haven't grown again, have they?"

"They've never really stopped. Mona's huge now, and Cassie's gargantuan. I 
told her, and she blushed prettily. She wants to join St Cat's, Miss. She's big 
enough, certainly."

"She sounds to me like ideal material," said the headmistress, "but what 
about this prowler? If he gets into the extensive woodland surroundings of 
St Cat's, he could terrorise the girls."

I thought they ought to let him in and welcome him with open arms. I 
could certainly give him a good going-over right now. And a quick spray of 
fuck and the Lower Sixth would love him to death. I bet little Shaynette 
could take him out single-handed.

"Listen!" said Smegs.

"What is it," shrieked Moggie. "Don't panic, anyone. Shan, call the police!"

"What for?"

"What did you hear, Megan?"

"Nothing! I told you to listen." Moggie clung to me. "Put her down, Shan." I 
lowered Moggie's black-stockinged legs to the floor. "Now, listen, I've got 
an idea. I think we might have a way of combating this menace, this threat 
in our midst, this viper in our bosom..."

And as Smegs unfolded her plan, we realised, not for the first time, that we 
were in the presence of true genius.





Chapter11:- The Biggest Bust In The World?


"Pick your squad, Rumiko. You can choose any six girls from the entire 
school! You know most of them by sight at least. Point to their photos if 
you don't know the names."

Rumiko ran her eyes across the rows of little square coloured pictures, 
choosing her hit squad. As far as we were concerned, she could have 
selected fifty strapping girls, but she said six would be enough. Five plus 
herself.

"Right," she said after a few minutes. "I decide. "My fren' Toria!"

"You don't have to choose your friends, Rumiko," said Moggie. "Choose the 
strongest girls if you like."

"Ah, Miss Thunnerborru. Big strong woman not important. I choose garus 
with inner strength. Toria has inner strength. Has character. Next, I have 
this one!" She indicated a strapping wench in the Upper Sixth.

"Jennifer Anthrax, a wise choice. If we still had a hockey team at St Cat's, 
Jennifer would be our mainstay, our cornerstone, our ..." Moggie subsided 
as Rumiko pointed to another picture.

"That's Shona," said Smegs. "She's a little young, Rumiko."

"Ah young, but fit, and heavy," said Rumiko. "An' she has big hands!" 
Rumiko demonstrated with a swift chopping motion down on to the top of 
Moggie's desk. We leapt back as Moggie's elaborately-carved hardwood 
desk-tidy, inscribed 'A Present From Weston-super-Mare' shattered into 
half a dozen separate pieces. Pencils, erasers and paper-clips showered 
across the room and a picture fell off the wall.

"Golly!" marvelled Smegs.

"Nex' my fren' Suzanne." Before we could object on the grounds that she 
was only ten, Rumiko explained. "We need what you say, a decoy? To 
attract attention of nasty man, Suzanne walk in the woods. He attack her, 
an' we attack him. An' finary. But she has no picture here. New garu. From 
Oz!"

"Shaynette?"

"Ah! Shaynette. She has muscles big as kangaroo's jockstrap. She is fit as 
horse. An' she has most monster titties in world. Sorry, Miss, even bigger 
than yours!"

Hang on a minute. We hadn't measured Shaynette yet, the jury was still 
out on who had the biggest pair in the whole of St Catherine's High School 
for Girls. I wasn't about to concede victory without a struggle.

"Those are my six. My squid."

"Squad".

"Squad. Now we need gi. One each. I have mine in my bag. With black belt. 
You buy five more."

We stared at Rumiko blankly.

"Gi," she said again. "You know. White suit?" She made a few descriptive 
flowing movements with her hands.

"Oh, right," the daylight dawned on Moggie. "You know the sort of things, 
Shan, like white pyjamas with belts. Look after it, will you. Charge it to the 
St Cat's account, don't forget to get the five per cent off. Anything else, 
Rumiko?"

"We need room to practise. Big mat on groun'. No more schoo' ressons 
untiru end of week, okay?"

"Okay," Moggie sighed, admitting defeat. "If we need a hit squad, they will 
have to train. It's all yours, Rumiko."


**********

The First Form was bubbling like a beaker of boob-juice as they waited in 
the lab. Not, though, like the rest of the school, about the news of the 
prowler with an obsession for young and big-breasted girls. The First 
Formers were more concerned with the far more vital task at hand: the 
Measuring of the New Girls.

Suzanne was telling me her mother's life story. "My Mum was telling us, 
Miss. They did the same thing with her when she was as old as me. Our 
Gran took her to the doctor's because she was frightened her boobies were 
growing too big. And the doctor said she had to keep a log of her 
measurements, once a week!"

"I expect the doctor wanted to keep an eye on things without having your 
mother in to see him every week. It would have worried your mother 
unnecessarily." The girls nodded in sympathy. In fact, I rather imagine the 
doctor was a horny bastard who liked busty little girls, so he had them 
send him a weekly log to wank over. Like the wankers who downloaded all 
these pictures from the Net, and now wanted to know the measurements 
of our girls. What was the world coming to, I thought.

"Where are those girls, they're late!" I complained. "How are we going to 
get their measurements on the newsgroup in time for the Americans to 
read at school if the girls don't get their arses here on time?"

I received instant support from my girls.

"That's right, Miss!"

"Spank their bottoms, Miss!"

Why should I give them the pleasure, I thought, although it might be 
interesting to do the spanking myself for a change. Perhaps later.

"Here's one, Miss," said a girl. "It's Isabella Thingie-Thingie."

"Come on, Isabella," I chivvied her, looking at my watch. "Get your clothes 
off. We have more important things to do than measuring girls all day."

Isabella sluggishly undressed. "My clothes are all too tight," she whined. 
"Everything they gave me is too small." She was right enough. Everything 
was too small. Her skirt was too tight. Her blouse was too tight. Even her 
socks were too tight. More expense for the Warninck-De Weiss family. The 
small print in the prospectus pointed out quite clearly that although school 
uniform was free to overseas students, this concession applied only to the 
first uniform. Subsequent clothing had to be paid for.

At last, she stood there quivering. She was surrounded by little girls with 
tape measures. Numbers were called out, and Pansy scribbled frantically to 
keep up with them.

"That can't be her waist, it's bigger than her bust. Check it again!"

"Fifty!"

"Shit, it IS bigger than her bust."

"Is that sixty her hips, or is it each thigh?"

"Hips, Pan. Her thighs are coming up in a minute, as soon as Katie gets out 
from between her legs. Give her a pull, somebody, she's stuck."

Katie emerged with a 'plop', panting slightly. "Thirty-eight," she said. "Each. 
They're both the same."

At least she was symmetrical.

"Do you really think the wankers want to read her measurements, Miss?

I looked down at Suzanne standing at my side. "Some of them, Suze. It 
takes all sorts to make a world. And don't use that word, Suzanne, it's not 
very nice."

"Okay, Miss," said Suzanne, cheerfully. "I thought they'd only be interested 
in Shaynette, Miss. Do you reckon hers are bigger than yours, Miss? Some 
of the girls are saying they are. They're placing bets on it, Miss!"

Were they, I thought. Bloody cheek. Betting on the size of their teacher's 
tits versus some over-inflated little sheila. "I won't ask you for their 
names, Suzanne. But who are they?"

"I didn't bet on it, Miss. I'm right out of money this week. And I still think 
yours are the best, Miss."

So loyal.

"Right, Isabella, get dressed and back to your class. You'd better see Miss 
Labia about getting some bigger clothes, as well. Off you go, you're taking 
up too much space."

Now where was that hairy French creature?


**********

But the next person to walk through the door into the lab wasn't hairy 
Demi, it was the predominantly small but beautifully formed Rumiko. We 
all bowed to each other.

"Ah, Miss. I have come to inform my shit-squad of selection. Is Suzanne 
here?"

"Yes, she's here, Rumiko." I decided to let the 'shit-squad' ride as it was 
close enough to the mark. "Suze? You're wanted!"

Suzanne appeared. "Hi, Rumi! You're looking huge today."

Rumiko bowed and fluttered her eyelashes prettily. "You're not so bad 
yourserif," she piped, and Suzanne beamed at her. "You watch television 
news!" Rumiko said in accusation.

"No I don't," insisted Suzanne, going pale at the very thought.

"There is a nasty man, Suzanne. NASTY! An' he lives in the woods, an' he 
attack you. Speciaru f'you have monster titties!" On the word 'attack', 
Rumiko chopped down with her hand on the bench. Apparatus tinkled and 
smashed, and girls scattered in all directions in alarm.

Suzanne looked confused, as well she might. "Nasty man in the woods? 
Where? Where, Miss?"

"It was on the news, Suzanne. There's a man been seen, and he attacked a 
girl over near Swindon. The girl had a large bust. We're taking precautions. 
Rumiko is organising a hit-squad to catch him. She wants you to be on it 
for some reason."

"Golly!" said Suzanne, her eyes shining. "Who else is on it?"

"Toria," said Rumiko. "An' big, big Jennifer from top of Sixth Form, an' 
Shona, and Shaynette. Tonight, after schooru, we train you in fighting. We 
find the nasty man, an' we sort him out!"

Even Shona seemed pleased at her selection for the hit-squad. "My Dad will 
be pleased," she suggested, in a cautiously positive reaction.

"Have you told the other girls yet, Rumiko?" I asked her.

"Toria, an' Jennifer, but not Shaynette. I rook for her, but she was not in 
her room."

"She's supposed to be here in ten minutes or so. You could hang around 
and wait for her here."

"Thank you, Miss," Rumiko bowed politely. "With every respect, what are 
you doing?"

Suzanne seemed to swell with pride in her role as Chief Measurer. "We're 
measuring the new girls. The pictures went out on the Net, and the 
wankers wanted to know all their measurements. So we're measuring 
them. They want to know how big their ..." she lowered her voice to a 
whisper "... their bosoms are."

"Ah, wankers! Miss show me about wanking. I am wanker now. Wow, it's 
kewl!"

"I like it, too," confided Suzanne. "But I prefer fucking. You know, when 
you sit on a boy's face."

"I never try it!"

"Ooooh, you should! Maybe one day, when Davie comes, we can let you 
have a try."

"Thank you," said Rumiko sweetly, and we all bowed at each other for a 
while.

"Ah, at last, it's Demi," I said. "About time, too. I'll watch from over here." 
Demi was better from a distance, I had decided.

She was developing nicely, I could see, before the girls descended on her 
with their tape measures. Every now and again, a glimpse of fur could be 
seen as part of Demi came into view between the First Formers swarming 
over her. Her breasts were now larger than grapefruit, more like young 
pineapples.

"Come on, you lot," insisted Pansy, waving her clipboard. "Let's have some 
of these numbers!"

The activity increased to a minor frenzy. How many First Formers does it 
take to change a lightbulb, I wondered. Or measure a hairy French girl. At 
last, the data was coming in.

"Hips, 33? Check it again, Shona! It's smaller than yesterday."

"It's right, Pan. They must have got it wrong yesterday."

"Bloody useless gits. You couldn't measure shit!"

The girls took the criticism in their stride, although they blushed at Pansy's 
salty language.

"Anybody got her waist? Come ON, you lot! Twenty-one? Is that right, 
twenty-one?"

Demi stood in the middle of all this activity, possibly wondering what on 
earth was going on. Relative silence had fallen as even Pansy waited for 
the Big One.

"Bust!" announced Shona. "Forty-one!"

"Thank you. Forty-one, twenty-one, thirty three. You've got to get this 
quicker next time. Get your fingers out of your arses, right?" Pansy was 
learning the rudiments of person-management.

"Why this take so rong," Rumiko wanted to know.

"I have no idea," I told her. "Perhaps they're enjoying it too much, they 
don't want it to stop. Demi, thank you. Get dressed quickly."

"Yes, Meess Gruntworthy," growled Demi, with a little grin at me. She 
gathered up her clothes and slithered sensuously across towards me. I 
could, I really could lick this girl internally, I thought.

"My boo-boos, zey 'ave grown, oui? You like my boo-boos, Meess?"

"They're very nice, Demi. Put your clothes on, please." She was driving me 
mad. All the time she was standing there, she was undulating gently like a 
vertical serpent. A serpent with big tits. A hairy serpent. Hairier than 
before? Surely not!

"I am getting 'airy, Meess? You like me au naturelle? I not shave, all for 
you, Meess." She ran her hands through various areas of body fur, her 
fingers, her whole hands, disappearing from view. I was even getting 
excited by the tang of her body odour. It would be fun to take her into a 
shower and give her a good scrubbing. All over. "I see you latair, Meess!" 
she promised, and slunk away. I watched her rear end twitch out of sight. 
She was still carrying her clothes.

"She smerru funny," said Rumiko, wrinkling her nose. "I wanna take her in 
bath an' give her good scrubbing." Her too! Serious competition around 
here.

"Where's that Oz girl? Why is everyone late this morning?"

But then I heard her ringing voice echoing around the corridor outside. 
"What the fuck do I have to come here every shittin' day for; I got better 
things to do than get me titties measured by this buncha wankers..."

She burst into the lab, brushing both sides of the double doorway, to be 
greeted by a chorus of disbelief.

"Where's your uniform, Shaynette?" I demanded.

"Split, Shan, mate" she replied with unacceptable familiarity. One or two of 
the girls looked at me, shaking their heads at this display of indiscipline. 
"Busted. Me tits have grown. As you can see."

I could see, all right. Shaynette was wearing a queen-sized yellow T-shirt 
squeezed over her epic breasts. How she could even stand up was a 
mystery, let alone walk. Yet she was walking. Right before our very eyes. 
She wasn't even wearing a school skirt. Instead, her little bottom bulged 
out of a pair of miniscule green shorts. The back of them was crawling up 
the crack of her bottom. The front was mercifully hidden by those 
elephantine breasts. God, even her thighs were hidden by those 
elephantine breasts. Her knees were only just visible. From behind, she 
looked like a skinny little woman in hot pursuit of a pair of weather 
balloons.

"You will call me Miss, Shaynette, please. None of your antipodean 
informality here." My loyal First Formers nodded and made a growling 
noise of agreement. "Now, undress, please. Completely. And do try to be 
silent for a short time as the girls measure you."

Not very good, bawling her out in front of the Juniors, but I'd had 
Shaynette up to here. And down to there. How dare she have bigger 
breasts than me? Bigger by a margin we were about to discover, as the 
girls encircled her with the tape.

The waist result came in first, after a snappy piece of work by Katie. 
"Seventeen!" she yelped, to general acclaim. Pansy wrote it down.

"Hips, anyone? C'mon!"

"I got her hips," called half a dozen separate voices. "Thirty!" 

"Thirty-what?"

"That's it. Thirty!"

All we were waiting for now was the bust. The Bust.

"Please, Miss!"

"Yes, Shona?" She came over to me and bent low over the desk to whisper.

"The tape measure isn't long enough, Miss!"

"Use the fifteen-footer, Shona. That's why I borrowed it from the bra 
factory. I knew the ten-foot one wouldn't be long enough."

"We *are* using the fifteen-footer, Miss," said Shona, mournfully. "And it's 
not long enough."

This was ridiculous. One hundred and eighty inches and then some? I 
stormed out. I was going to see Moggie.





Chapter 12:- Comforting Chauntaille


Moggie's arms were around me, at least as far as they would go. I had 
never thought such a thing could ever happen.

"Shan, dear girl, don't cry, there, there." It wasn't working. I was sobbing 
my tits off.

Smegs came in, the way she always tends to do at moments of high drama. 
"Ooops! Sorry, I'll come back later," she said, backing out.

"Megan, come back. Here, see what you can do to console this poor child." 
Moggie gently handed me over to Smegs, and I began to soak her blouse 
with my tears. It took several minutes before I recovered sufficiently to 
begin to feel ragingly horny again, and sat up, meaning to find a position 
from which I could get my face between Smegs's thighs where it belonged. 
Moggie, I saw, had removed her blouse and was drying it on the radiator.

"You don't hold back on the bodily fluids, do you, Chauntaille," she said. "If 
it's not love-juice, it's tears. Now, before you start sucking Megan's all-too 
fragrant private parts, tell me what this is all about? You came in here too 
upset to say a word."

"It's Shaynette," I sobbed, and saw Moggie exchange a significant glance 
with Smegs above my head. "She's bigger than me. She's bigger than 
anyone."

"It was always going to happen, Shan, darling," Smegs consoled me. "You 
were like the gunslinger that always sets herself up for the challenger to 
ride into town. You finally met your High Noon."

"She means you were bound to meet someone with bigger breasts than 
yours," Moggie translated, seeing my bemused expression.

"Other girls are bigger than me. Clarrie, and Baps. Maybe even Cassie, 
although she's no age at all. But not five and a half *feet* bigger!" Smegs 
comforted me. If I didn't get down there in another minute, I was going to 
explode. Moggie recognised the warning signs.

"You'd better open your legs for her, Megan, or she's going to make a mess 
of the wallpaper." Smegs obliged, and I began to drink my fill at her 
honey-fountain. Moggie had to raise her voice to be heard over my 
slurpings. "If Shaynette is fifteen feet six round the chest, she's going to 
have to go. I just had an estimate from the builders for widening all the 
fire-doors." She showed it to Smegs, who looked at the bottom line and 
grunted.

"Apparently, the whole building is a 'kin nightmare, according to the 
builders. They asked me which 'kin cowboys had thrown this lot together. 
I told them it was them. It's still going to cost thousands more than 
Shaynette's school fees bring in. We'll have to sack her. Pity, really, the 
World Bust Record would have brought no end of kudos to St Cat's."

"We've still got the World's Biggest-busted School Teacher," said Smegs, 
pushing my head firmly halfway into her womb. Irrelevantly, I thought 
that if the roles had been reversed, Smegs's head would have disappeared 
right up inside me after a shove like that.

"That's true, Megan. Shan's our biggest asset!"

"Oh, Moggie!" I whooped, and disengaging myself from my lover, I 
plastered my mouth across her lips in gratitude. When I eventually pulled 
away, Moggie wiped her mouth.

"Christ, Megan, you taste good even at second-hand," she giggled. "Anyway, 
I have decided. Shaynette is to go. Megan, get her off the premises tonight. 
We'll call her parents, God knows what it will cost."

"Not a lot," said Megan. "They only live in Earls Court."

"London? But she's been claiming Tampax and uniform allowances. I shall 
sue her in every court in the land. You mean she comes from London. Has 
she ever been to Australia?"

"Possibly not, we'd have to check. I'll get Maurice and boys to look into her 
background if you like."

"Yes, please, Megan. You do that. But get the cow out of here. Don't even let 
her feet touch the ground."


**********

I felt a lot better after that. I wandered down to the lab again, tear-
stained, red-eyed and tasting of Smegs, to be greeted by my girls with 
genuine affection.

"Hi, Miss!"

"Come and sit down, Miss."

"We love you, Miss!" That last one was from Suzanne, who came and put 
her arm around me as I sat at my desk.

"Pansy's taken the films to Porno to get them done. And we've got a little 
surprise for that Shaynette tonight on the Net. Wait 'til the wankers read 
about her later!" But she wouldn't say any more, no matter how much I 
pressed her for information.

"Shaynette's leaving St Cat's," I told them, and they all cheered. "Miss 
Thunderbolt just told me. It would have been nice to hold the World Bust 
Record, but it's not worth it. And I agree with her."

"So do we," they chorused.

"So do I," said Pansy, coming in at the end of the conversation. She came 
over to me and stood on the opposite side of my chair to her cousin. "We 
all love you, Miss," she whispered, and kissed me tenderly on the lips. 
Control yourself, I repeated several times.

"Corrr. Have you been over to the restaurant already, Miss," cried Pansy. 
"If you've eaten all the kippers we won't love you any more."


**********

It was good to get away from the school and sit on the top deck of the bus 
into town. Moggie had told me to forget this afternoon's lessons and take a 
ride into town to collect the hit-squad's martial arts outfits. They weren't 
strictly standard, thanks to the size of the girls' busts, but they were made 
to a fairly forgiving design. 'No problem, sweetheart', the assistant had 
assured me when I had phoned the girls' sizes through to the shop earlier. 
Just in case, I took Rumiko along for moral support.

Inside the shop, imaginatively called 'HAI!', we held up the traditionally 
designed outfits. We won't need this extra large one," I told the man, "the 
girl has been expelled for having too large a bust!"

"Pity," he sighed. "We've had this one hanging about the place for years. I 
thought we'd got rid of it at last. I helped him over his obvious 
disappointment by replacing it with another in a relatively more standard 
size. The shop assistant was looking at Rumiko with undisguised lust. "Aint' 
seen you in here before, darling. You the new St Cat's Martial Arts teacher, 
then?"

Rumiko bowed, startling the young man. "No, I am student. I come to 
Engran to obtain more rounded character. An' monster titties!" She 
breathed in deeply, popping open two buttons on her blouse. The 
assistant's eyes widened.

"Christ," he murmured. I could see his point. Rumiko *was* rather large-
breasted for a Japanese girl. "Maybe you'd like to join the local club? I'd 
look after you, sweetheart. Take you in hand, under my wing, as it were. 
We could make sweet Japanese music together. He leered at Rumiko.

"Time to catch the bus. All this lot is to go on the St Cat's account, is that all 
right." I started grabbing the various items and stuffing them into a bag. 
Rumiko tutted crossly at me, dragging them out of the bag again and laying 
them on the counter, folding them neatly and carefully before packing 
them away. The assistant seized his chance.

"Here, I'll give you a hand," he said coming round the counter and standing 
so close to Rumiko that he was almost inside her skirt with her. She 
showed no reaction, carrying on calmly folding and tidying, making little 
noises of satisfaction as she worked. Finally, the last of the suits was 
packed away in the bag and the assistant picked it up and placed it in her 
arms. His hand brushed the side of her breast.

"Thank you," said Rumiko "A preasure to visit your shop." She offered him 
her hand, then pulled her hand away. "After you, Miss, shake hands with 
the man."

I did, feeling a little awkward. His hand was clammy, like a raw fish. He 
extended it to Rumiko, who smiled at him. As we left the shop, bowing 
slightly, we saw the assistant getting up off the floor. He had landed rather 
heavily on his back.

"Nasty man!" said Rumiko as we hurried through the streets to the bus 
stop.


**********

"You'll need to appoint another girl to replace Shaynette, Rumiko. Any 
ideas? Why not make it a big hulking girl? We've got plenty of those."

Rumiko watched the lights of the town rumbling past the bus window. "No 
need for hunking," she said. "You see how nasty man fry ... fly across 
shop?" She looked so pleased at managing the letter 'L', I decided we 
would tackle the grammar later.

"True enough. Could you teach me how to do that one day, Rumiko? I can 
think of a few guys I'd like to do it to."

"Sure, Miss!" Her eyes became as big and round as I'd ever seen them. "I 
can teach teacher. And teacher can teach Rumiko how to have even more 
monster titties?" Fortunately, there weren't any more passengers on the 
upper deck of the bus. I gave her a big cuddle, and she rested her rich 
black hair on my breast.

"I ruv you, Miss," she whispered, almost too quietly to hear.


**********

"I have decide on my other fighter," Rumiko announced. We had stepped 
off the bus into the frosty night, and were walking down the drive in the 
light of a gibbous moon. I could imagine all sorts of nasty men behind 
every tree. But I had Rumiko to protect me. She squeezed my hand. "I 
want Pansy!" she said.

"Pansy? But she's tiny. Why not choose a bigger girl."

"Pansy is my friend," said Rumiko, simply. "I choose Pansy."

And for the whole of the next day, my Sexual Chemistry class was 
decimated, or literally more than decimated, with the loss of Shona and the 
two cousins. After classes, I passed the music room, where a huge white 
mat had been found from somewhere and laid out on the floor.

White-clad figures in a range of sizes stood around the edges of the mat, 
while Rumiko, in her black belt, demonstrated a hold on Jennifer in slow 
time. I stopped and watched through the glass panel in the door.

"Now you try, Jenny," said Rumiko. And, reaching up, she grasped Jennifer 
by the neck from the front, as if to strangle her. The big Sixth Former tried 
to break Rumiko's hold, but failed, and they crumpled to the mat in an 
ungainly heap, with Rumiko on top. The audience laughed and applauded.

"Try again. This time!" Jennifer tried again, and in a whirl of arms, found 
herself holding Rumiko from behind. The smaller Japanese girl struggled, 
but she was held fast.

"I did it! I did it!" shouted Jennifer, releasing her grip and grinning at the 
younger girls who were clapping her victory. There was a triumphal shout 
from Rumiko and Jennifer was sitting on her substantial bottom on the 
mat.

"Ouch!" she said, tears springing to her eyes.

"Concentrate," hissed Rumiko, fiercely. "You concentrate, or the nasty man 
do that to you. He is stronger than you, you must not forget that, ever. 
Jennifer clambered painfully to her feet. "You didn't even remember how 
to fall propery," scolded Rumiko. Facing each other, they bowed formally. 
"One more time, Jenny. It hurt, but you do it propery and you be okay!"

Jenny did it propery.

I saw Rumiko later, as she shepherded her battered pupils out of the music 
room. She looked as immaculate as when the class had started. The other 
five girls were like badly-wrapped parcels.

"They're doing great, Miss, but I don't want them to know, not yet", she 
confided to me as we followed the class at a distance along the corridor. 
"When we catch the Nasty Man, it wirru be serious. We got another week 
of training yet, we get it right. Hey, you got a minute, Miss, you hear my 
pran. My plan!"

It sounded crazy enough to work. I mean, the police had shown a 
reconstruction on television, getting a girl to dress up exactly as the 
prowler's victim had done, and walk along the same road at the same time, 
to see if anyone remembered seeing her. Nobody did, of course, but it 
made good cheap television.

At least, Rumiko's plan was proactive. I believe that's the modern word. 
And when she explained it to me, I realised that there was no risk to the 
decoy. No risk at all.


**********

I was walking back to my room on Sunday afternoon. Lunch had been the 
usual surfeit of calories, and I was puffing a bit up the slope past the 
caretaker's shed. I remembered how Jeremy's chocolate coloured milk float 
used to be parked outside her when the dairy had been in full flow. It was 
so much quieter now, without the constant crowds of lactating girls coming 
and going. Where the milk float had once stood there was now a big shiny 
car.

Jeremy's head popped up from behind it. He had a chamois leather in his 
hand.

"Shan!" he said. He had a funny look on his face.

"Hi, Jeremy!" I waited for him to come round to my side of the car, but he 
stayed where he was. He wiped a drop of water off the voluptuously 
curved front mudguard, or whatever it's called. "Bought a new car, then?" 

"Don't you recognise it?" I didn't. I strolled on round the front, where the 
engine was. There was a big shiny silver bit at the front end, and a pretty 
badge like a cat. 'JAGUAR' it said in silver letters on black.

"You bought a Jaguar. Things must be looking up."

"Not just a Jaguar. Not any Jaguar." He stopped, his voice a bit croaky. "This 
one's ... special!"

I carried on around the car to his side. It was miles long. I still couldn't see 
what was so special about it. "I bought it in Fillamore Deepleigh at 
Christmas. Off Mr Fuller. His garage looked after it all the old boy's life. I 
know old Fuller, so I got it cheap. It's in great nick ..." He stopped, his voice 
all croaky. "Oh, Shan!"

I took him in my arms. I suppose I should have worked it out, but all cars 
looked the same to me, even Jaguars. "Jeremy, what's up?" He was sobbing 
and shuddering against my breast. "Christ, Jeremy, stop it, you're making 
me all wet." And even as I said it, I realised I was getting all wet 
somewhere else as well as my upper slopes.

He pulled away, hiding his face. Funny how boys can cry all over you, yet 
they won't show you their faces. He opened the back door. And only then 
did I realise. I am really slow on the uptake sometimes. I grabbed him 
again, and thrust his poor wet face into my cleavage, and his whole head 
disappeared.

"Shan," he mumbled, struggling to be free. "You nearly suffocated me. You 
want to sit inside. It's warmer in there." So we got in. The seats smelled of 
warm leather.

"It's smaller than I remembered it," I said at last, and he snuggled closer.

"You're a lot bigger than you were when you were fourteen, darling!"

"I suppose so."

"I bought it for us, Shan. It will always be special. Our special place." He 
was getting croaky again.

It took less time to undress than on our first night. I slipped my jeans and 
knickers down in about three seconds. "Here," I said. "No doggie style in 
here on these bouncy seats. Like fucking on a bouncy castle. Whatever 
made me think of doing it doggie style on my first time?" And I perched 
my rump on the edge of the seat, while Jeremy positioned himself between 
my legs. "Ooooh, you're getting better at finding your way in, Suggy," I 
whispered, as he slid into me. "Darling, yes!"

I don't know who said that last bit, it might have been either of us. Or 
both.

It was almost dark when we finally crawled out of the steamed-up car and 
went into the shed, clinging to each other like adolescent lovers. We sat in 
front of his little stove, sipping Bovril from chipped mugs.

"Well, darling," I said, "what brought that on?"

"Very powerful cars, Jaguars," he said. "I'll always love you, Shan. If ever 
you get ... if ever you ... stop seeing Orson. I'll still be here for you. You 
know that. Oh, shit!" He hid his face in his hands, so I went round behind 
his chair and hugged his neck.

"I'll see you later, darling," I said, and slipping out of the shed, I carried on 
up to my room. Only about three hours late. Bloody boys. The only way 
they know how to get their way is to turn on the tears.





Part V





Chapter 13:- Love Conquers All


There was a gentle knock on the door. Not bothering with the light, I 
opened it a few inches.

"Jeremy? What do you want? You shouldn't really be up here."

"I know, Shan, but it's important, look." He was holding out a newspaper.

"What's this? Oh, it's no use. Come in." I held the door open and he slipped 
inside. I switched on the light and he immediately looked around the room 
as if memorising every detail. At least, while he was looking round the 
room, he wouldn't see my weepy red eyes.

Bastard, he was looking right at me. At least, he was decent enough not to 
mention it. In case it cracked him up again? "What am I supposed to be 
looking at in this dishrag paper, Jeremy? Honest, you boys, reading this 
crap ..." It was the 'Sunday Smut'. On the front page was a chilled-looking 
girl wearing a bikini in the snow.

"Look inside. Page five." I turned past page after page of erect nipples and 
found what I was supposed to be looking for. At first, all I saw was a 
gigantic pair of breasts. So what else is new? Then I noticed the headline, 
'EXPELLED - For Her Too-Big Tits!' A chill feeling settled in my stomach as I 
stared more closely at the gigantic breasts and saw a face between them. 
"Bloody Shaynette!"

"That's her," said Jeremy. "Have you read it?"

"No, this light. Not bright enough."

Jeremy came over and perched on the arm of my chair. "Careful," I said. 
"My last chair broke. Moggie says I'll have to pay for the next one." He 
leaned across and turned on the reading lamp, and the darling boy still 
didn't mention my puffy face.

"Look, I'll read it," he said. "'Eighteen year old Oz stunna Shaynette Mc 
Dermott was SLUNG out of exclusive POSH St Catherine's High School for 
Girls, because her BOOBS are TOO BIG!' Bastards. There's more. 'Lovely 
Shaynette, who flew half-way round the WORLD to attend St Cat's, which 
describes itself as an international college, was HEARTBROKEN last night at 
the London home of her aunt, Cherylene O'Keefe, 29. Busty Shaynette 
(pictured above) admits, 'OK, I'm HUGE, I know, but the headmistress said 
she was sacking me because of financial constraints, I reckon it was 
because my breasts are bigger than her GIRLFRIEND's!' Meanwhile, 
SHAGGABLE Shaynette, 188-18-30, who has probably the BIGGEST BUST in 
the WORLD, plans action against the school.' Bastards," said Jeremy again.

"Oh, no! It's dreadful. What are we going to do, Jeremy?"

"Whatever you decide, I'm right behind you, darling."

Which sounded like a good enough idea to me, so I dropped to my hands 
and knees in the floor, and Jeremy was right behind me within a matter of 
seconds. Of course, Smegs chose that moment to drop in, but she found 
something to occupy her fingers for the last half hour or so. At last, we 
came to a conclusion and sat in the armchair. Smegs was occupying the 
bed.

"Hi, Smegs!"

"I heard the noise, Shan, so I knew you were in. Hi, Jeremy. That your Jag 
over by the shed?"

"No, it's ours," he said, holding me tight against him. I nodded foolishly. The 
light dawned on Smegs.

"Is that the car you ...?"

We both nodded at her, grinning like idiots.

"Well, bugger me! Talk about lovebirds! Look, I'll get out of here and leave 
you two to it." She kissed us both softly on the mouth, using quite a bit of 
tongue - with me, at least. "Enjoy yourselves, you two. You probably 
deserve each other!"

"G'night Smegs. Oooh, wait, take this paper with you. Page five. We'll talk in 
the morning, okay?"


**********

"Did you have a good night, Shan?" Smegs sounded as though she really 
meant it. We were in Moggie's office, waiting for the headmistress to 
arrive. The 'Sunday Smut' lay on the desk, ready for her to see it.

"Oooh, it was great, Smegs. Just like the first time, only better...!"

"I should hope so, too. Did you have it off in the car, as well?"

"Smegs. We didn't 'have it off', as you so crudely put it. We made love."

"How many times?"

"God, girl, have you no soul? What does it matter how many times? Him or 
me?"

"Either. Him?"

"Five!"

"Not bad, kid. How was it for you?"

"Blissful. Although I feel the size of a bucket this morning."

"But you *are* the size of a bucket, darling. That's part of your unique 
appeal. Come here and give me a good licking out. Come on. Moggie won't 
mind!"

So that's how Moggie found us ten minutes later. She read the article in the 
'Smut' before disturbing us. She had all the other quality Sunday papers 
with her as well.

"We're big news," she announced. "So is 188-inch Shaynette. Although she 
rates no more than 185 inches in the 'Screws' and 180D in the 'Shag'. 
Whatever 180D means. You'd think these editors would have learned the 
rudiments of bra sizes by now, wouldn't you?"

We studied the stories. They were all much the same, with Shaynette 
promising action against St Cat's. 

"She means it, girls. Hell hath no fury and all that."

"Get it right, Miss!" I reminded her. "Heaven has no rage, like love to 
hatred turned / Nor Hell a fury like a woman scorned."

They ignored me. Philistines.

"What can we do? We don't even know where she is. If we could find her, 
we could get Maurice and the boys to have a word with her minders."

"Megan, this might be too delicate a job for Maurice and the boys. Although 
I must confess, I feel powerless. Look at us, twenty-two feet of bust in 
here, and we can't outwit one Australian bimbo."

"Any news on the other story?" Smegs turned to the front page. "The 
prowler in the woods. I saw your hit-squad training this morning, Shan. 
They look almost edible in those white suits."

"I wouldn't try it. Those hands are deadly weapons. Or they will be by the 
weekend. Rumiko reckons Friday night. That was when he struck the last 
time. She thinks she can lure him into battle on Friday. She's even started 
posting decoys about the woods."

"What, real girls?" gasped Moggie. "They haven't finished their training 
yet."

"It's all right. She's using blow-up dolls with huge breasts. Apparently, last 
night, she left a blow-up doll in the woods near the road, and she saw a 
white van pull up, and a bloke with binoculars got out, and pretended to 
have a piss. Rumiko believes he's just waiting for Friday night."

Moggie was in gloomy mood. "It may be irrelevant, if this Shaynette girl 
does the dirty on us. St Catherine's High School for Girls may be closed 
down for good by then."

We sat in silence. We had never heard Moggie so low before.

"*You're* all right," Smegs said later as we walked back to our classes. "You 
can go and see Jeremy and get fucked into oblivion."

"Hey, not a bad idea," I said. "I may just do that." And being a girl of my 
word, I asked her if she would mind dropping in on the First Formers, 
explain that I had gone off to get comprehensively laid for a few hours, 
and ask if they would care to get on with something useful. She's good like 
that, is Smegs; if it's for the good of the kids' education, she will go out of 
her way to help.

But I hadn't reached Jeremy's shed when I was waylaid by a figure in 
white pyjamas. It leapt out of the bushes and adopted a threateningly self-
defensive pose. "Toria? What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be 
training?"

She sneered unpleasantly. "I should think it ought to be *you* that needs 
self-defence training, Miss. How high can you jump, Miss Gruntworthy?"

"Not very," I admitted. "Not with these things. You know how difficult it 
must be."

She cut me off in full flight.

"Never mind the smart talk, Miss. We have unfinished business. What 
about my breasts?"

I looked at them. "They look excellent, Toria!" 

She refused to blush prettily, or even blush at all. "Take note. I am going to 
help my friend Rumiko catch this prowler. Not for you, nor for St Cat's, but 
for my friend, and because it might be exciting. I might even get a mention 
in the paper, or on television, although I imagine you will shove your oar 
in and stop it somehow. But once we've caught him, I am going to become 
so bound up in the fabric of this story, you will be unable to avoid 
recognising my true worth and giving me the breasts I deserve."

A fine speech indeed, but rather a solid block of prose. Should I 
paraphrase it for the sake of the wankers who can't read half a dozen 
paragraphs without scanning ahead to see if I've included a set of 
outrageous measurements, like 188-18-30.

Or should I just ask the reader to go back and read the last but one 
paragraph again. I decided to do just that. Go back and read the last but 
one paragraph again. It's fairly important.

Toria melted away into the bushes, which saved me having to think of a 
memorable line for her exit. I continued, my knees trembling, until I 
reached Jeremy's shed. The Jaguar wasn't outside and there was a note 
pinned to the door.

'Back at lunchtime,' it said.

I blame that bloody Victoria for this, although I would never be able to 
prove a thing.


**********

I could describe the next few days in painstaking detail, but this story is 
long enough without that. Instead, I will summarise, then cut - literally - 
to the chase.

You will be glad to hear that Jeremy did come back that lunchtime. He 
seemed quite confused when I told him I thought Victoria had hidden his 
Jaguar and pinned a note on the door just to spite me. Despite his 
confusion, we went right out and did it on the back seat of the Jag, and 
followed it up with a session in his shed. Smegs came in as we were 
approaching the end, and kindly waited for us to finish, which we did in 
heroic style, as if we'd been doing it together all our sexually active lives, 
which wasn't too far from the truth, after all.

"You're going to have to do some teaching, Shan, darling," Smegs explained 
gently, leading me away by the hand. "You can carry on fucking Jeremy 
later. Can't she, Jeremy?" He nodded vigorously. So that was all right, then.

As it happened, we did quite a lot of it during the rest of the week. We 
were like newly-weds, touching each other, kissing appallingly loudly in 
public places and being generally pretty nauseating.

What else happened that week?

The measuring continued in a jaded kind of way, without the bullying 
Pansy, the enthusiasm of Suzanne and the efficiency of Shona. Something 
had gone out of the proceedings, too, with the absence of the gigantic 
Shaynette, whatever one thought of her.

Isabella continued to blossom, although her growth tended to be all over. 
Parts of her now actually hung down and obscured other parts in a quite 
disturbing way. I'm not knocking it; I can imagine some people getting off 
on that sort of thing, just as long as they don't ask me to join them. And to 
upset them even further, Isabella broke the bathroom scales we were 
using to weigh her, so we couldn't even keep a record of her steadily 
increasing weight. At which stage the weight-wankers gave up and 
returned in disgust to alt.sex.fetish.weight-gain. and much good may it do 
them.

As for Demi, she continued to grow her hair just for me, and her constant 
suggestive behaviour was so embarrassing the girls in the class that on the 
Thursday morning, I finally snapped. The girls cheered as I yanked Demi 
struggling and squealing out of the lab and down to the showers, where I 
set about her with a loofah and a whole bottle of Wash n' Go (for Frequent 
Use). After about half an hour under the shower, she seemed to grow 
accustomed to the experience, if not actually to enjoy it.

It was a mistake, perhaps, not to have undressed myself before trying to 
scrub Demi clean. And once she had dragged me into the shower in a 
(wholly successful) attempt to go down on me, I was thoroughly wet 
outside as well as inside.

Meanwhile, the hit-squad continued their intensive training, avoiding all 
school lessons and leading very much the life of Riley. By the time Friday 
came round, they were a well-drilled team. The last few days of their 
training, Rumiko had them marching out to the woods in their gi; a brave 
sight. It brought a lump to my throat to see them as they swung past the 
window of the caretaker's shed.

"What is it?" Jeremy asked, as I craned my neck to watch them go by. We 
were doing it on the table, where we had been having a mug of coffee 
when we were overtaken by lust. I was on top at the time, so I was able to 
see out of the window.

"Those wonderful, brave kids. Look at them. Young, clean-limbed. Vast tits. 
Going out into the woods to protect us, the ordinary little people. God, I 
hope they all come back."

"Shan," croaked Jeremy", would you mind, very carefully, turning back to 
face this way, please? Careful! AAAARGH!"

"Sorry, my darling. Here, let me kiss them better..."

But it was no use. Jeremy was out of action for the next two days. He 
visited the local sports outfitter and came back to St Cat's wearing a 
cricketer's protective box, which made things only slightly less agonising 
for him.

I couldn't even join Jeremy for a mug of coffee during the day, as he 
feared the painful consequences of an erection. As I said to him, while 
stroking his taut-muscled belly with one of my nipples, the other one 
gently lodged between his lips, he didn't *have* to get an erection every 
time I came into his shed. Think about something else, I told him.

Instead, he handed me a note from his doctor, which suggested it might be 
better if we didn't see each other for a few days. So I brought him a pile of 
soft-porn magazines to read, kissed him all over and left him to his own 
devices. Then I returned to the moist and welcoming thighs of Smegs.





Chapter 14:- Jungle Warfare


It had been raining earlier in the day, but the moon was out, sailing behind 
scudding clouds as we gathered in the caretaker's shed for the briefing. 
Moggie, Smegs and I sat behind the long table at one end of the room, 
where a map of the woods had been pinned to the wall, covered with a 
sheet of plastic film.

On a half circle of chairs in semi-darkness, the five girls of the hit-squad 
sat; tense, making little black jokes that nobody listened to nor laughed at. 
Their coffee mugs lay scattered, still half-full, on the work bench along the 
side of the shed. Where the milking machines had once been, I thought. A 
couple of years ago, these same kids - or others like them - might have 
been in here, pumping milk to the soothing strains of a Beethoven quartet.

Softly, Jennifer turned to Victoria. "How ya feelin', kid?"

"I'm scared, Jen."

"Yeah, so am I. And so you should be. It's right to be scared before the Big 
One. I'm right there with ya, babe! Another time, another place, two other 
people, we might be making love. If we come back from this one ..."

The three First Formers looked about them with curious eyes, as if 
memorising every detail of this moment, a last memory of this other world 
before they went out into the unkown, to face ... what? Who knew. My 
heart went out to them. Smegs, dear Smegs, handed me a tissue. "Chin up, 
kid," she whispered, "they're all looking to you for inspiration!"

Jennifer shot to her feet. "Ten'SHUN!" she yelled, and the other four stood 
bolt upright and stock still, their eyes to the front, as the door burst open 
and Rumiko strode in dressed somewhat startlingly in beautifully-tailored 
camouflage jacket and trousers. On the almost horizontal upper slope of 
her left breast was a label bearing her name in two languages. Smegs 
hurried to the door and closed it.

"At ease," rapped Rumiko, and taking her time, laid her notes on the table. 
She ignored the three teachers and stepped up to the map, studying it and 
committing its details to memory before turning to face her girls for the 
first time. "Sit down. We have a wrong knight ahead of us."

As she briefed the girls, detailing their duties for the last time, I scanned 
the young eager faces now fixed on their leader in open adoration. They 
would follow her anywhere, out of curiosity if nothing else.

Four of them were dressed from head to foot in black. Four extra large 
black sweaters bulged dangerously with the load of four ScatBras of 
various sizes. I could hear the velcro creaking as they breathed. Black 
jeans being hard to come by, only Jennifer wore them, the others wore 
black tights or leggings. The overall effect was one of extreme top-
heaviness.

Only Pansy was not wearing black and by contrast with the other members 
of the squad, her school uniform seemed almost obscenely like an erotic 
cartoon. I realised that her bra was on maximum uplift, and that her skirt 
was almost absurdly short. Her hair was tied up in plaits with yellow 
ribbons. On her feet, unusually, she wore serious-looking Reeboks. I made 
a note to reprimand her about her non-uniform footwear. But as a decoy, if 
that's what she was, she looked most effective. If there was a prowler out 
there tonight, Pansy would represent all his Christmasses and birthdays 
rolled into one.

Rumiko was coming to an end of her briefing. "Any questions?" There were 
none. The girls knew their parts. "Here, take these," said Rumiko, delving 
into a cardboard box. I looked up startled. What was she handing out, 
suicide pills?

But no, they appeared to be large white handkerchiefs. The girls held them 
in their hands, looking at them blankly. "Tie them round your head, so!" 
Rumiko tied the handkerchief round her forehead, and the other girls 
followed her example, before looking round at each other. Only Pansy was 
without one, and she went round the others, straightening and tidying 
their headdress.

"With these, we see each other in the dark. We see Pansy with her ribbons. 
If anyone in trouble, we see you. Okay? Right, we go!"

They began to move toward the door.

I got up and hurried over to the doorway. Rumiko bowed to me, her face 
free from emotion. She seemed to have entrusted her soul to a higher 
authority. "Take care, Rumiko. Good luck!"

"Is not ruck, Miss. Is pranning. Thank you, Miss," she bowed, and turned to 
go.

Suzanne stepped up and I hugged her. "Go for it, Suze!"

"We'll get the bastard, Miss!" I made a note to have a word with her about 
her language when she came back. If she came back.

Pansy was next. "Look after yourself, Pan."

"I've been practising my sexy wiggle, Miss, I'll be okay."

"Look after yourself, Shona."

She forced a lopsided grin. "My Mum will kill me if I don't come back, 
Miss."

Jennifer approached the door. I looked up into her eyes. "I haven't had the 
chance to get to know you very well, Jenny. Maybe ... who knows ... when 
this is all over, we can do something about that, yeah?"

"I'd like that, Miss." We hugged each other tightly. Wow! I'd like it, too, I 
thought, but drove the lewd thought from my mind.

Finally, Victoria. We shook hands in silence, and she slipped out of the door 
into the night.


**********

"God, I hope all those kids come back," said Moggie, pacing up and down.

"More coffee?" Smegs swilled the pot around.

"If I have any more coffee, I'll pass out," I said, and pressed my face to the 
window.

"Can you see anything?" Smegs joined me, her arm went round my waist 
and gave a little squeeze.

"Nothing."


**********

Rumiko whispered from the bushes. "Okay, Pan. Here's the bus. Once it 
goes, you walk from the bus stop and take the short cut through the woods 
to the school, okay?"

"Okay." Pansy hurried across the road and hid in the shadows. Two or 
three passengers stepped down and made off into the night, chattering 
amongst themselves. A few seconds later, Pansy emerged, looked both 
ways, and flickered across the road, her hair ribbons and everything else 
bouncing in the streetlight. Down at the bend in the road, the door of a 
white van opened.

"Shit," said Pansy, as she reached the footpath on the other side of the 
road. Her shoelace had come untied. These bloody trainers, the laces were 
so long, and they kept coming undone. She tied it, and retied the long loops 
in a second knot, the way her Mum always used to. "I'll never get these 
off," she muttered, getting up. Then she realised she'd better tie the other 
one as well, in case that came undone.

"Pansy, get going, quick," hissed Rumiko, from her hideaway. But Pansy 
couldn't hear her. The wind in the trees was making too much noise. 
Rumiko had to get back to her position. She darted away into the darkness 
of the woods, making hardly a sound.

Meanwhile, Pansy completed tying her shoelace, tied the second knot, got 
to her feet and set off into the trees. It was only when she was almost out 
of sight of the road that she heard the crunch of footsteps and turned 
round.

"Shit," she said again. This wasn't in the script. The bastard was here, right 
behind her. He shouted something, it sounded like 'Hello, you!' Pansy was 
off like a shot, into the woods, skipping over fallen logs, avoiding trees. Her 
eyes hadn't become accustomed to the darkness after the street lighting, 
and she wasn't making the progress she needed to. He was catching up 
with her, and the others were too far away. The plan was to draw the 
prowler into the killing ground, a clear area much nearer the school. It 
wasn't working. It wasn't going to work.

"It's all right, sweetheart," the man shouted, "I know the way through here, 
let me show you the path."

He wasn't even out of breath. Pansy was beginning to puff and pant. She 
wasn't built for running through the woods. The constant ducking beneath 
unsuspected branches was tiring for her, and her big breasts, hoisted up to 
the maximum in her ScatBra were bouncing heavily and painfully. She 
began to sob.

"What's your name, darling?" He was nearly within reach. Pansy screamed 
and crashed on into the bushes. Something snagged at her leg, catching on 
her stocking and nearly tripping her up. Thorns were tearing at her knees 
and thighs. "Come on, my darling, no need to run. I'll catch you anyway."

He wasn't close behind her any more! He was over to the right, about ten 
yards away, by the sound of it. She stopped, disoriented. There was silence 
apart from the wind in the branches. Cautiously, she stepped forward. Still 
no sign of the prowler, no noise, no nothing. Pansy was pissing herself; she 
could feel it trickling down her leg. Ridiculously, she thought, Suzanne will 
tell all the others about her pissing herself with fright.

She stood stock still and thought of the other girls. They'd be in the dorm, 
doing their homework now. Pansy wasn't keen on prep, but she would 
gladly do a couple of hours of it right now in exchange for standing here in 
the windy woods, scratched, bleeding and soaked in her own piss. There 
was a movement behind her in the trees, and she was off like a shot, 
crashing through the bushes, sobbing and crying. "Suzanne!" she yelled. 
"Toria!"

This way! A gap between two trees. Pansy thought she recognised it: 
through the gap, and she would be back on the path, and only another 
thirty yards to go. Safe, with the others to protect her. She darted between 
the tree trunks, banging her bare arm against the tree on the right, 
caroming off it against the other one and bumping her hip. Hurting all 
over, her breath tearing in her lungs, she emerged with surprise and relief 
on to the broad pathway - and ran slap into the arms of the prowler.

"There you are, love! I told you I knew the way to the path." His hand 
gripped her wrist and forced it behind her back. Pansy wished she could 
remember some of the things she had seen the others learning this week. 
She tugged and jerked at her hand, but he gripped it all the harder. He 
smelled of aftershave or something. It reminded Pansy of Christmas Day, 
and the family opening their presents. That thought was all she needed to 
push her over the edge. She tried once more to wrench her hand free, then 
dissolved in tears.

He was squeezing her harder, pulling her against his body, forcing himself 
against her. She found herself being pushed backwards into the trees ...


**********

Rumiko arrived back at the clearing, and peered back in the direction of 
the road. There was the bus passing again on its way back to town. It 
didn't even stop; there would be no-one waiting at the St Cat's bus stop at 
this time of a windy night.

Jenny looked at Rumiko and they both shook their heads. Ten yards away, 
Victoria was also looking anxiously for a sign of her sister. If this crazy 
game went wrong and anything happened to Pansy, their Mum would go 
absolutely spare!

Shona stood up cautiously and looked around. No movement in any 
direction. Suzanne, crouching in the undergrowth, looked up at her. "I 
thought I heard something, listen!"

They listened, and heard nothing. "What was it, Suze?"

"I thought it was a shout. A scream. I can't be sure, but it seemed to come 
from over that way. The wrong way." They listened again.

Victoria heard it, too. "Pansy?" She stood up, there it was, definitely a 
shout. "Toria," it said. It was Pansy. The plan was to wait for her to arrive 
here in the clearing. No time for that. Victoria leapt up and set off in the 
direction of the shout, staggering through the bushes. "Pansy," she 
screamed. "Hang on, I'm coming!"

The planning had gone out of the window, the way the best-laid schemes 
are inclined to do. Suzanne and Shona set off as well, following the white 
flash of Toria's headband in the gloom. The three of them went crashing 
through the undergrowth, yelling.

Rumiko had to change the whole plan on the hoof. She nudged Jennifer in 
the ribs and pointed away to the right. "That way, Jenny, take the path." 
Jenny nodded and loped off, making good speed without the impeding 
trees and bushes. Rumiko watched her out of sight, then set off in another 
direction, vaulting lightly over the branches. She could see in the dark, not 
quite like a cat, but well enough.


**********

"Relax, sweetheart. Christ, you're a big girl for a little 'un, ain't you?" He 
changed his grip and released Pansy's bruised wrist. She felt her tie being 
ripped off. In panic, she thought he was going to strangle her with her own 
school tie. Then it was dragged off over her head. Powerful fingers ripped 
at the neck of her blouse, and half a dozen buttons ripped open with one 
sharp movement.

"Hey, you've got some bloody TITS, kid!" He pawed at them, taken aback 
by Pansy's fullness, bulging over the cups of her ScatBra. "Let's have a 
proper look at these things ...!"

"Pan!"

"Pansy?"

"What the fuck ...?" The man grabbed Pansy by the arm and hauled to to 
her feet. "C'mon, sweetheart! Let's go." He began to frog-march her along 
the path in the direction of the school. Faster and faster, now the path was 
clearer. Behind them, and getting no closer, were the shouts of Toria and 
Suzanne, with Shona crashing along behind them like an elephant. Every 
few yards, they stopped and called again, and Pansy realised to her horror 
that her sister and cousin were going the wrong way.

"Stupid bastards!" He dragged Pansy off the path and on to a grassy bank 
where he thumped her down on to her bottom. The grass was cold and 
wet, her panties were already soaked, she was a mass of scratches and 
bruises. There was a mighty wrench, as she felt the bra ripped off her, and 
she heard the man's gasp of amazement as her full breasts were revealed 
for the first time in the pale moonlight.

"You're enjoying it, ain't you, sweetheart. Go on, admit you're enjoying it!"

"Fuck off, you great heap of shit! Owww!" Her face stung as he slapped her, 
but it had stopped him for a few seconds, delayed the evil moment.

"Still got a bit of fight in yer, right, kid? Well, try fighting against ..." he 
stopped again, listening. Pansy listened, too. Not Toria and Suzanne, this 
was from the other direction. Footsteps, coming this way. The man looked 
up the path, and ducked his head down out of sight. Jenny was almost up 
with them, running fast along the pathway, when Pansy found the man's 
hand, grabbed it and bit down hard on his fingers.

"You fucking little COW!" Pansy tasted blood in her mouth, but the man had 
snatched his hand away, and she scrambled to her hands and knees, 
crawling away into the bushes, her breasts dangling and swinging, her 
nipples trailing in the mud.

He was off after her, when he felt a hand grip the back of his collar and he 
was hauled back, off balance. Whoever this was, the man thought, he was 
bloody strong. But Jenny had lost her footing on the slippery grass, and 
together they slithered down the bank on to the path. The man landed on 
top of Jenny, driving the breath from her lungs.

She lay gasping. "Christ, it's another bleedin' girl. And another pair of 
whoppers. What the f..." He had tried to grab at Jenny's fully loaded 
sweater but she broke his grip and in the same movement, rolled on to her 
back, dragging the man's body with her. To her intense satisfaction, he 
flew backwards over Jenny's head, slithering on his back across the path. 
But instead of following up her advantage, Jenny called to Pansy.

"Pan? You all right? I got him. Come on out, you're okay."

But even as Pansy turned to peer from the bushes, she was too late to 
shout a warning, as she saw a figure grab Jenny from behind and hurl her 
like an overweight rag doll against a tree trunk. Breathless from her chase, 
and now winded again, she gasped and doubled up, helpless. Pansy 
realised that her danger hadn't gone away. She found herself being 
dragged by the hand again, along the path, this time back in the direction 
of the road. Her feet skittering along, off balance, her breasts rebounding 
and impeding her progress; Pansy saw the white van gleaming through the 
trees.

It was no more than seconds away. They had reached the road. The 
prowler grabbed her hair and literally dragged Pansy to the back doors of 
the van, wrenching them open. He hoisted her off her feet and she found 
herself flung sprawling across the icy metal floor of the van, fetching up 
against a heap of something soft, like a heap of blankets. Sobbing and 
whimpering, she waited, shattered and exhausted, for the weight of the 
man to pin her down. But it never happened. She could hear sounds of a 
struggle somewhere outside on the road, shouts and grunts; then 
something slammed heavily against the side of the van with a huge 
booming noise.

A blood-chilling scream rang out.

And silence.

Pansy got to her knees, and crawled to the back doors. She was too scared 
to look out. What was she going to see? It was still dead quiet out there. 
She waited a few seconds, then looked out. Below the back doors of the 
van, in the wet mud at the edge of the road, the man lay on his back, 
breathing heavily. Rumiko was on top of his thighs, one knee firmly in his 
groin. She was sucking her hand.

"Ah, Pan. You okay?"

"I think so," she muttered.

"Can you hold this bastard down a minute? I cut my hand on the van. It is 
breeding!"

Pansy climbed stiffly from the van. "What shall I do?" she asked.

"Just hold him down for a minute. Don't worry, I'm right here."

Pansy looked down at the prowler for a minute. His face showed pain, and 
fright. No lust any more, despite looking up at Pansy's wondrous breasts 
swaying above him. She squatted above him, deciding, then sat down 
firmly on his face.


**********

They had tied his hands behind him with Pansy's St Cat's tie.

By the time Suzanne and Toria had come panting up to the van, with Shona 
helping Jenny along in the rear, they had found Pansy perched on the 
prowler's face, and Rumiko - with her head-band tied neatly round her left 
hand - kneeling on his groin once more. From time to time, every few 
seconds, she dropped her weight on to her knee again, bringing a grunt of 
pain from the prisoner.

"We found your bra, Pan," sobbed Suzanne for the tenth time as they led 
the prowler at a brisk pace along the path. They had almost arrived at the 
caretaker's shed. "And then we found Jenny, and we thought ..."

Suzanne hugged Pansy as they walked along. Rumiko grasped the 
prisoner's upper arm with her uninjured hand, Toria held his other arm. 
They walked him too fast for comfort. Jenny followed close behind, 
occasionally kicking at his heels. Then came the two cousins. Shona brought 
up the rear, jingling the keys of the white van.


**********

The banging on the door galvanised us. We all stared at each other in 
terror. Smegs opened it, and stepped back smartly as Rumiko and Toria 
thrust the prisoner inside.

"Bloody hell. You!" I gasped.

"You know him, Miss?" panted Toria, in some surprise.

"We both know him," snarled Rumiko. "Nasty man."

"He's from the Martial Arts shop," I explained to Moggie and Smegs. "Slimy 
bastard."

The others piled into the shed. I draped one of Jeremy's white coats over 
Pansy's shoulders, and Suzanne led her gently over to the sink. She took a 
wet cloth and began dabbing at Pansy's cuts and grazes.

"Ouch! Gently, Suze."

Gradually, the story came together.

"The best bit was when Pansy sat on his face," insisted Rumiko.

"After that, he wouldn't feel like raping anyone any more," said Jenny.

"Probably not," laughed Pansy, still sounding a bit wobbly. "I'd pissed in 
my pants. An' I did some more while I was sitting there!"

"Here come the police, anyway," said Moggie. "Jenny, have you got it quite 
clear in your mind what you're going to say in your statement?"

"Yes, Miss, I can handle it."

"Good. Rumiko's English is excellent, but she might still confuse the police. 
Shan, Megan, can you get these girls to bed. Don't take them to the dorm, 
take them to my room, two of them can have my bed, the other two can 
sleep on the couch or something."

"They can have my bed," said Smegs. "I'll go in with Shan."

None of us are going to get much sleep tonight, anyway, I thought.





Chapter 15:- Victoria's Secret?


The police hushed it up. All the report said in the newspaper was that a 
prowler had been apprehended at St Catherine's High School for Girls, and 
a man was now helping police with their enquiries.

The mat was rolled up and taken out of the music room. Maurice and the 
boys had returned from the Hai! Shop with a substantial cheque, and the 
girl-tuna cannery was moved into a temporary building on the old sports 
field, allowing the cannery to become a purpose-designed dojo. So the 
brochure was correct in one respect: the school now had its own sports 
facilities.

But the euphoria in the wake of the capture of the prowler soon gave way 
to apprehension. Life went on. Smut Newspapers were running a series of 
photographs showing Shaynette McDermott, 'Our Very Own Oz Girl - with 
truly the BIGGEST TITS in the ENTIRE UNIVERSE'.

They were, too! They seemed to be getting bigger every day. On the 
Sunday, a week after Shaynette's first revelation of her expulsion from St 
Cat's, her bust measurement was billed as 190 inches. 'Let's see if we can 
make Shaynette reach 200 inches by the weekend,' screamed the 
headlines, as if there was ever going to be any doubt about it. She made it 
by Friday, it went without saying, and Friday's front page proudly showed 
only one of Shaynette's tits. If you wanted to see them both, you had to 
open the paper out flat and look at the back page as well.

'SMUT's 200-inch Stunna,' it claimed, modestly. 'Look out for our FULL-
SIZE poster on Sunday!'

And each day, Shaynette had a few more words attributed to her, how she 
had been expelled, her running battle with the teachers and staff. As each 
day went by, she offered to expose St Cat's in full by the weekend. 'By 
Monday morning, the wretched, despicable St Catherine's High School for 
Girls will be closed down,' the paper predicted.

"Can they do it, Miss?"

"Not legally," said Moggie, but what parents, in this country or abroad, will 
send their daughters to St Cat's with this sort of thing going on? The only 
reason we haven't had half our girls withdrawn already is that St Cat's 
parents don't read this shitty paper."


**********

Down in the dojo, the hit-squad sat in a gloomy circle. "We've got to do 
something. Miss Thunderborru, Miss Mountains and Miss Gruntworthy, are 
not happy bunny. We gotta do something!"

"We could expose this Shaynette," suggested Jenny.

Suzanne spread the 'Daily Smut' on the floor. "Look at the cow," she 
snorted, "she's been exposed enough already. And if *she's* 200 inches," 
she continued in a lower voice, *mine* are seventy-five!"

The other girls looked at her with interest, but failed to agree whether 
Suzanne's were seventy-five inches or not.

"I wonder where she is," mused Victoria. "If we could only get to her."

"London, probably," said Pansy. "Didn't Miss Gruntworthy say that's where 
she was going when she left. She said Earls Court. Apparently that's where 
all Australians live when they're in London."

"Why?" Suzanne wanted to know.

"To keep them away from civilised people, I suppose," said Shona, 
doubtfully.

"We go to Error's Court," said Rumiko firmly. "We go tonight on train."

"We do?" asked the others.

"We find Shaynette. We sort her out."

"We DO?"

"Shaynette not say nothing about St Cat's again after we sort her out."

"She WON'T!"

They came to me for permission. I suppose they reckoned I would be the 
one most likely to say yes. I said yes. What the hell? These six could 
handle themselves. 

"Dress modestly, girls," I told them, "try not to flash too much breast 
around!" Well, I had to make a token effort, didn't I? 


**********

There wasn't a St Cat's uniform in sight as the hit-squad entered a First 
Class carriage on the London train. They had the appearance of a coven of 
rather overblown high-class tarts. Whistles and howls of animal lust had 
pursued them down the main street to the station. Jenny bought the 
tickets and they sank gratefully into their seats as the train slid out of the 
station and gathered speed.

They had no idea what they were going to do when they got to London. 
They had no idea of the whereabouts of Earls Court, although Jenny had a 
map of the Underground in her diary. Suzanne, though, had the address of 
Shaynette's folks, which was a bonus, and Shona had somehow obtained a 
list of photographic studios in West London. Not the most comprehensive 
game-plan, but time was short.


**********

"Is this the place? It doesn't look much like a swish studio." Suzanne 
turned up her nose. "When I'm a model, I don't want to come to a place 
like this." The others looked at her critically.

"Just about the right job for you," said Pansy, "modelling for the 'Sunday 
Smut'." Suzanne subsided.

"It's the right address," said Jenny, "I wrote it down."

Earlier, Jenny had been delegated to ring the bell at Shaynette's folks' 
house. "G'day!" she had greeted them. "Arm lookin' fer Shaynie." She had 
spun an elaborate tale about having come over from Oz with Shaynette on 
the plane, and she was lookin' up 'er ole mate.

She received a helpful reception, refused a Vegemite sandwich and a tube 
of Two Dogs, and came away clutching the address of the studio in 
Kensington where Shaynie was working. Pay-dirt!

Now, as the three First Formers went down a side alley and leaned against 
the wall in the shadows, Jenny and Rumiko wandered in through the front 
entrance, looking for signs of life. They were about to leave again when a 
blonde woman with big hair and an ill-advised amount of cleavage 
appeared and looked them up and down.

"Whatcha want?" she demanded, chewing noisily with her big mouth open.

"We were looking for Shaynie," said Jenny, trying out the Australian accent 
again.

"Wot for?"

"I'm 'er friend, we came over from Oz on the same plane. I wanted to see 
her before I went back."

"What about Suzie Wong, she going back as well, is she?" Rumiko's 
knuckles whitened, and Jenny put a restraining hand on her arm.

"Is she here?" Jenny pleaded.

"Dunno. She might be gone." The blonde sniffed and turned away. That 
seemed to be it. The blonde had disappeared without another word. Again, 
the girls were about to leave when a balding man came down a narrow 
staircase in the corner, caught sight of them and stopped with what 
sounded like a squeal of brakes.

"Evenin' ladies. How can I help you?" Shit! Another Australian, thought 
Jenny, biting her lip. I'll be rumbled for sure. She adopted her best St Cat's 
cut-glass accent. "We were looking for Shaynette, we were given to 
understand that she might be here." All this subtlety of accents was lost on 
Rumiko, to whom all Westerners sounded exactly the same.

"Who shall I say wants her?" said the balding man.

"Jenny," Jenny improvised desperately, remembering that Shaynette 
certainly didn't know her. The balding man's eyes flickered toward 
Rumiko. "And Miki," added Jenny, quickly.

"She won't be long," said the man, leaning back against the wall and 
regarding them with a faint grin. "You two models as well, are you?" It was 
a statement rather than a question.

"Yes," said Jenny, allowing herself a deep breath. The balding man's eyes 
widened. This girl was big. So was the Japanese. Huge, for a Japanese.

"Funny I haven't seen you before, I know most of the girls in the business."

"We're new," giggled Jenny. She had a sudden daring inspiration and 
looked around her from side to side. She dropped her voice. "In fact, we're 
still only fifteen!"

The man straightened up and looked at the girls closely. "Fifteen, eh? So, 
you ain't 'ad yer pictures published yet, then. 'Ere!" He fished in his shirt 
pocket and took out a couple of dog-eared cards. "Take one each. Any time, 
just call. When are you sixteen? As if it mattered," he muttered under his 
breath.

"Two months time, and Miki's a couple of months younger. Thanks, Mr ..." 
Jenny read the card, "Mr Gordon. I may just give you a call."

"Good to see you girls. Anyway, Shaynie's coming out at any moment. I just 
came down to check if her taxi had arrived ..." The big-haired blonde had 
reappeared from a back room.

"Ah, there y'are, Jimbo, I been looking for yer. These two was after 
Shaynie. One of em's an Aussie. The uvver one ain't!"

"Aussie?" Jimbo looked round sharply at the girls, who had started to edge 
away. "No Aussies round here, 'part from me, Jude. Hey, where are you off 
..."

Jenny and Rumiko rushed out into the street, Jenny raising two fingers to 
her mouth and whistling shrilly for a cab. One performed a U-turn and slid 
to a halt beside the curb. The driver leaned across and opened the back 
door. "Just waiting for our friends," panted Jenny, holding the door open 
for Rumiko, "then can you take us to Paddington Station ..."

"Just a minute," said Rumiko. "I mus' attend to something. She ran back to 
the door of the studio, where Jimbo and the blonde with the big hair were 
peering out at them in amazement. With a kind of shrill grunt, Rumiko 
grabbed Jimbo by his shirt and bore him backwards to the foot of the 
stairs. The blonde with the big hair was just behind him, and the only way 
she could avoid being crushed beneath his feet was to leap on to his back, 
piggy-back style. Rumiko turned sharply to the right and all three of them 
rushed up the narrow staircase and in through an open doorway. She 
slapped the blonde woman on the back, leaving her choking helplessly on 
her chewing sum. Then she left them in an untidy heap on the floor, 
unusually for her, waved bye-bye, and shut the door behind her. To her 
delight, there was even a key in the lock.

Seconds later, dusting her hands, she joined Jenny by the cab, bowed 
politely, and climbed into the back seat.

The First Formers, hearing Jenny's whistle, had emerged curiously from 
the alley and saw the older girls getting into the taxi. They rushed forward 
across the broad footpath, and Shona clambered in next to Rumiko. "Gotta 
go, girls," said Jenny, "we've been rumbled!"

Another taxi pulled up behind the first, and Jenny had a sudden thought. 
Was *this* Shaynette's taxi? Was it possible? Pansy had followed Shona 
into the first cab, leaving just Jenny, Toria and Suzanne standing on the 
kerb. And with perfect timing, Shaynette came shouldering out of the front 
doors of the studio in possibly the biggest Australian Rugby shirt any of 
the girls had ever seen.

"Into the other cab, Suze, quick," whispered Jenny, and Suzanne decided to 
act first and ask questions later, if at all. Jenny slammed the door of the 
first cab shut and banged on the side. The driver looked surprised, but 
took off anyway; as Jenny and Toria, between them, pinioned Shaynette's 
arms and forced her through the wide-open cab door like those people 
who stuff passengers into Japanese underground trains. She went in with a 
sort of plop, and the two pushers dived in on top of her.

"Follow that cab," shrieked Jenny, and they took off like a diesel rocket. 
"He's going to Paddington", she said after a moment's thought. "Can you get 
there before him?"

"Why didn't yer say so?" called the driver, performing an instant U-turn 
and heading off in the opposite direction.

"Are you under there, Suze?" cried Toria, as the taxi bucketed round the 
corners, sharp left, sharp right, sharp left again.

"I'm squashed flat, but I'm here," came Suzanne's voice faintly from 
beneath Shaynette's breasts. She emerged into the open after a struggle. 

"Oh, Holy Shit, not her," groaned Shaynette. "Bastards! Where you takin' 
me?"

"Paddington," said Jenny, helpfully. "After that, we don't know yet. 
Probably St Cat's! Miss Thunderbolt would like a word, I imagine." Jenny 
rubbed her hands in anticipation.

"I wish I could breathe," complained Suzanne, trapped against the glass.

"Oh, what the fuck," sighed Shaynette. "I'm finished anyway, but we had a 
good run. You down there, Suze, whatever yer name is. Reach up under me 
shirt. There's a valve under me right tit. Tucked right underneath? There! 
You got it."

Suzanne fiddled about for a moment, then there was a faint hissing sound, 
which grew louder. Gradually, there was more room in the taxi. "Do the 
other side, under me left tit, that's it." Jenny obliged her.

Shaynette's breasts had returned to more or less the size they had been 
when she had first arrived at St Cat's. The huge shirt hung on her like a 
rag.

"So, these are Biggest Tits in the World!" Toria jabbed at them with a 
finger. She grinned around at Jenny and Suzanne. "Are they readily 
detachable, Shaynie? You know something? I just might have a use for 
these!"




THE END