THE head teacher peered over his glasses at the clipboard in his hand. "Angk-Harrod Jones," he enunciated carefully while looking round for this dreadfully-named person. For all he knew it might be a girl or a boy. "You are to go and see Mr Lombank in the staff room immediately after assembly." Almost certainly a girl, in that case. "See-Ann Jones, you are to come and see me in my office. Thank you. The rest of you, dismiss to your classes."
    The usual uproar broke out as the school dispersed in a dozen different directions. Much of the chatter centred around those last two announcements. Mr Lombank was notorious for his one-on-one chats with the children in his care. They were nominally about mathematics and they were almost exclusively with girls. Big-breasted girls. Well, opinion had it, old Lombank had hit the jackpot this time. He wouldn't find a girl with bigger breasts than that Jones girl if he searched for a hundred years. Opinion had it that he'd already been searching for the past hundred.
    As for the other Jones girl, there was still speculation, but it was less widespread. If she had to see the head teacher, she must be in the deepest shit imaginable. Either that or it was something boringly routine.
    "They want her to fill in a form, or something," said a knowledgeable girl in Sian's class.
    "They wouldn't make her see the head just for that."
    "You know what they're like," said Pandora, anxious to keep the tone of the conversation general.
    "I know what it's about," said a quiet girl who rarely said a word in public.
    "Who said that?" one boy asked, looking around. Everyone giggled.
    "I know what it's about."
    "Okay, so what's it all about?"
    "She had her blouse undone," the girl's voice had dropped to a whisper. She had suddenly realised that she was in a trap; the only way to reveal what she knew was going to involve her in the use of some very rude words indeed.
    "Where, in the PE changing rooms?"
    "No, it was outside the dining hall."
    "She undid her blouse? Outside?" People were taking an interest. One thing you could hardly miss about young Sian was that she had a remarkably large pair of tits. Huge, in fact.
    "What did she do that for?"
    "Did she get her tits out?"
    "How do you know?"
    "I saw it. She took them out. And she was there!" The girl pointed at Pandora.
    Everyone looked at Pandora. Yes, it was possible; those two had been going around together yesterday. Didn't they live next door to each other or something? And Pandora knew something. She was blushing like a beacon.
    "She had to," Pandora blurted. "It was her milk."
    "Milk?"
    "Has she had a baby, then?" a girl asked.
    The others were silent. They didn't know enough about this subject and didn't want to show their ignorance.
    "No. She just gives milk, that's all."
    "What for?"
    "It's not for anything. It's just milk."
    "You mean like a cow?"
    "Yeah."
    "Can you drink it?"
    Pandora was getting dragged in too deep. "Of course. It's only milk."
    "What's it taste like?"
    "Just like ordinary milk, only a bit swee..."
    "You've drunk some?"
    "Oh, yuck!"
    "Eeeuuuuwww!"

"A disturbing report has reached me, See-Ann."
    "Yes, sir?"
    The head teacher looked the girl up and down. Then up again. 'My goodness me,' he thought. 'Girls certainly grow up quicker than they did in my day.' He frowned. This one was only eleven years old. Surely not...
    "It is reported that you were exposing your ... chest ... outside the dining hall."
    "Yes, sir."
    "You don't deny it?"
    "Of course not, sir. Why should I?"
    "What on earth made you do it, girl?"
    "I had to, sir. It's the only way. You can't milk yourself with your shirt on, can you?"
    "Milk?"
    "Of course."
    "You opened your blouse, and you exposed your ... breasts?" The head teacher spoke the word, expecting a thunderbolt to descend through the ceiling. "And you tell me this is something to do with milk?"
    "I wear a milking bra, sir. Nursing, they calls it. Look."
    And she swiftly unbuttoned her blouse, jerked it free of her skirt and flung it wide open to reveal her sturdy pink bra.
    "See, you undoes these flaps, yer, and you can get at your nipples. It saves taking the whole thing off, doesn't it?"
    "B-b-b..." No words would come. The head teacher found himself looking at possibly the biggest pair of breasts he had ever seen in his life. Bigger than his wife's, which was saying the same thing, really.
    "Shall I take it all the way off, sir?" She began removing her blouse.
    "No! Put them away!"
    Sian shrugged. Stupid man couldn't make up his mind. She persuaded her nipples back inside and buttoned her blouse. "Gonna be bloody gallons this lunchtime," she predicted in a voice of doom. "I dunno where it's all coming from."
    "You give ... milk ... on a regular basis?"
    Sian wondered why the man always said 'milk' as if it were a foreign word. "Of course. Can't stop it, can I?"
    You had better see a doctor. I will write to your mother..."
    "Doctor can't do nothing. S'just the way I am. I s'pose if I didn't milk myself reg'lar, I'd just get bigger and bigger and bigger until I exploded. And I'm pretty big to start with. Fifty-five inches..."
    "You must find somewhere private to do this ... milking, you understand?"
    "Okay, sir. Where do the other girls do it?"
    "Which other girls? Do what?"
    "Where do they go to milk themselves? They gotta do it somewhere, 'aven't they?"
    It was said with such chilling certainty that the head teacher wondered if it might be true; that the school contained half a dozen private little rooms full of girls milking themselves. Surely not! Somebody would surely have told him...

"Ah, sit down, Angharad."
    "You wanted to see me, sir?"
    "About Maths, yes."
    "Ooh, yes, sir. About Maths, of course. What did you want to know?"
    Mr Lombank was sweating already. The girl was leaning forward in her chair, eager for knowledge, or something. And she had unquestionably the biggest bust he had ever seen in all his teaching experience. He'd thought Betsy Smith had been big. This kid made Betsy look like a boy. Ye gods! Fourteen years old! How big were those puppies?
    "Sir?"
    "I'm interested chiefly in your progress. Your recent scholastic development. How far you have gone with your previous Maths teacher. Can you show me anything?"
    "Oooh, I got on very well with him. He let me call him Andy. Of course, I wouldn't expect you to let me do that..."
    "Certainly not!"
    "Not yet, anyway. We hardly know each other. Do we? Dave?"
    "You mustn't call me that! Who told you my name?"
    "I found out. Easy. It's a nice name. It's Welsh. You're not Welsh, are you, Dave?"
    "You mustn't ... no, I'm not."
    "Pity. Still, never mind." She sighed heavily and a dreamy expression stole across her face. "It's a lovely name, Dave. My first boyfriend was called Dafydd. Well, not a boyfriend so much. But he was my first ever fuck. You never forget your first time, do you, Dave?"
    Mr Lombank could dimly remember his first time. Right now, he was having more difficulty remembering his last time. The girl plunged on.
    "But where was we, before you started me off talking about fucking and stuff? Ooh, yeah, I remember. You was askin' about my development. Well, I've developed a whole lot in the last couple of years. Well, I mean, it shows, don't it?"
    "I didn't mean your..."
    "Dave! Of course not! You're not a rude old lecher, are you. You're not old, anyway. And it's perfectly normal for a girl growing into her teens to develop a figure, isn't it? It's a sign we're moving into adulthood, after all. Andy always said I'd already moved in years ago, but he was a saucy bugger. Anyway, we didn't come in here to talk about my big breasts, did we? No, I didn't think so!"
    "Let's talk about..."
    "Sex? 'Let's talk about sex, ba-bee, let's talk about you an' me...' You know that song? I like a man who keeps in touch with the latest hits. 1992, my mam said that one was. Anyway, carry on. What was you sayin'?"
    "Maths. Let's talk about Maths." He hurried on before she could start singing again. "Geometry?"
    "Oh, yes, Dave! The volume of spherical objects. Done that, all right. Algebra. Simultaneous equations. Simultaneous everythin', me and Andy did. Simultaneously. And spontaneously, sometimes, just thinkin' about it. I miss 'im, you know, and I bet he misses me. I must be three inches bigger now, at least. He gave me a special treat the day I passed fifty inches! Those were the days, right? Fifty!" She placed her hands on each side of her breasts and squeezed inwards, admiring the effect. "Dave, you're in charge of the school photography club, aren't you?"
    "Well, as it happens..." He had been going to mention it, as it happened.
    "Maybe you could take a picture of me to send to him, yeah? Or we could put it on the Internet and he can download it from somewhere. Still, not today, eh? Plenty of time for that."
    "I don't think we ought to be discussing nude photography, Angharad."
    "I never said nude, Dave. Did I mention nude? Wow, you are disgusting! I'm blushing all over. Look!" She unfastened two buttons and turned back the corner of her blouse, revealing a pink-tinted swell of flesh. "You'll 'ave to take my word about the rest of me, Dave."
    "Do yourself up, quick! Are you trying to get me into trouble?" He lurched to his feet and lunged towards the door, as if he were going to barricade it with desks and filing cabinets. He only got about a yard, and was forced to hobble back to his seat, snatching up a Guardian to hide his groin.
    She looked round the cluttered staff room. "I wouldn't get my kit off in yer, Dave. It's too cold. Still, I bet you knows lots of places we could go. Mind you, I don't do it on the first date. Not with men, anyway. Bein' so much under age, see, I 'as to be careful. 'Course, the law says if you're under twenty-five, you're allowed to swear you thought I was sixteen. Nobody's goin' to argue 'bout that, not with my tits, are they? A copper told me that. You shoulda seen his truncheon! You are under twenty-five, aren't you, Dave?"
    "I'm thirty-nine." Mr Lombank grated.
    "Bloody hell! We got problems, then. Still, I'm sure you'll think of a way round it, right?"
    "Angharad! I do not want..."
    "Okay, Dave," she said cheerfully. "There's no need to rush into things. I got a load of boys lined up for the next few nights, anyway. You let me know, and we'll work something out." She stood up, her immense bosom blocking out the daylight. Mr Lombank stayed in his seat, throbbing beneath his Guardian. "God, look at these things! I swear they're getting bigger every day. You want to know how big they are?"
    "No!" it was a hoarse croak.
    "I'll whisper it." She bent over him, her breasts arriving long before the rest of her. Her moist lips brushed his ear as her rubbery nipples rustled his protective newspaper.
    "No, please! Somebody might come."
    "P'raps you're right." She sighed and stood up straight, so he could no longer see her face, only the underside of her phenomenal bust. "You're so mature, Dave! I feel as if I can trust you. See you later, okay?"

"The head teacher says I mustn't do it outside, Panda. I dunno why." The two friends were strolling round the sports field in the morning break.
    "Did he tell you off?"
    "No. I showed him my bra, though. Maybe when I get a new one, I'll show him that, too. This old pink thing's not very sexy. Not like Eirlys' new one. It's all black and lacy. She measured me last night."
    "What for? Your sister can't make bras, can she?"
    "No, but she wanted to. I think it makes her wet."
    "Wet?"
    "Between her legs. Dunno why. She kept touching herself all the time she was measuring me, and you could smell it. A bit like the seaside."
    Pandora thought about that. She thought maybe she knew just a little bit how Sian's sister had felt. She'd felt it while she'd been drinking her milk. Not afterwards, though; all she'd felt then was stuffed.
    "How big were you?"
    "It's ever so complicated, and they always use inches instead of centimetres. Fifty-one inches empty."
    "Wow, that sounds big!"
    "I am big. Then we stuffed a load of socks in my bra and tried again. Fifty-five."
    They wandered on in silence, kicking at the dead leaves in the grass.
    "Could you measure me?" said Pandora.
    "What for?"
    "Just for fun. You could see if it makes you wet."
    "I get wet when I'm being milked. Maybe it would work. Getting wet feels nice. When can we try it? We're not allowed to take our blouses off at school."
    "How about at home, tonight?"
    "You'd better come to my house, unless I could borrow your bathroom to have a poo."
    "How about in your bedroom instead?"

Tina wanted to see it. She'd been hearing about it all day, in between having to listen to Eirlys speculating about why two of her sisters had had their names read out at morning assembly.
    "They'll tell you all about it tonight," said Tina.
    "Sian might tell me something, if she remembers. Angharad won't; she'll be too busy going out and getting laid. She come home, has her dinner, takes her bra off and she's gone."
    Tina was most impressed. "Without her bra? How does she hold all that lot up without a bra?"
    Eirlys partially retracted her statement. "I dunno. I never looks at her to see if she's got a bra on or not. But it stands to reason, don' it? Nobody's going out with a gang of boys while she's wearin' one of Mrs Griff's Pink Monstrosities. She'd never live it down."
    "I doubt if she can even walk without a bra on. It must be hard enough just standing up. She's enormous!"
    "She might be enormous, but she 'asn't got a sexy bra like mine!" Eirlys gloated.
    "Let me see it! Was it really a man in the bra shop? And he measured you?"
    "Not really a man, like. He was a bit funny, see? But he measured me, all right. And he went up a ladder and come down with this sexy black lace bra, just for me. A 32S!"
    "An S-cup. You're gigantic!" Tina felt uncomfortably moist and the friction of her bottom on the seat of the bus wasn't helping matters at all.
    "My little sister's bigger than me. She takes a 30Y."
    Tina had to close her eyes.
    "What's the matter, Tee?"
    "Nothing," she panted. It was happening more and more these days. She didn't even have to touch herself now, and the feeling came on its own. "Can we work on our homework together tonight, Eirlys?"
    "Sure! I'll show you my new bra. And it's Tuesday, so Mam's making a great big rice pudding, with five pints of milk! She always makes too much. None of likes it, but she makes it every week."
    "As long as I don't have to eat the skin on top."
    "Mam says that's the best part. If that's the case, I dunno why she don't just burn a bit of milk in a saucepan 'stead of making bloody half a ton of soggy rice to go with it."
    Tina was quiet. She loved rice pudding, but her mum couldn't make anything without its either being raw or burned to a cinder.

"Another spoonful of pudding, Tina?"
    "I'm full up, Mrs Jones!"
    "Nah, yew girls are all the same. Don't know what's good for yew. Have another glass of milk, anyway."
    "We're going up to my room, Mam. We're helping each other with our homework."
    "There's a good girl. Well, since you're staying, Tina, you can take another dishful of pudding upstairs. There!"
    A mountainous helping of rice pudding appeared on her dish, and Mrs Jones carefully draped a few square inches of brown skin on top.
    "Right! Eat it all up. Make you into a big strong girl. I'll bring you some milk up later, okay?"
    "Thanks." The dish needed both hands to lift it off the table. She followed Eirlys up the stairs and into the bedroom.
    "You can scrape it out the window f'you like."
    "No, I can eat it. It's nice. As long as I take my time." She took a spoonful, avoiding the skin.
    "I'm gonna take my school clothes off," said Eirlys. "You're not to look, okay?"
    Tina obediently turned to face the wall, and watched Eirlys scramble out of her skirt and replace her blouse with a huge T-shirt. It was the first time she had seen her classmate's figure, and she was tempted to turn round and see if it was as staggering as it looked in the mirror. As for her lower half, she had only seen a back view, but that was quite simply incredible. There was hair absolutely exploding out of her panties.
    "All right, you can turn round now."
    "I still haven't seen your bra yet."
    "Later, okay? After Mam's been up with your milk. We don't want her bustin' in while you're lookin' at my underwear, do we?"
    "Oh. No, I suppose not." Eirlys thought of everything. Tina rearranged her own soggy underwear. She had done it again since getting off the bus. What if Eirlys could smell it? Or Mrs Jones? Oh, no!
    "What have we got, then? History and French. Let's do History first, and we can do French later..."
    Why did that sound so rude?
    "Is there room for both of us on the bed?"
    "Why not?" said Eirlys. "I'll sit up here on the pillows and you sit down the bottom end. If we both cross our legs ... there, plenty of room." She dipped into her bag and brought out the history textbook. "Now," she said sternly. "Pay attention. The Great Fire of London. Date?"
    "What?"
    "You're not paying attention, Tee. When was the Fire of London?"
    "1066?"
    "No, that was something else, wasn't it? Ow! It's no good. Sitting scrunched up like this, my bra digs into me. I got to take it off." Somehow, she withdrew her arms inside her T-shirt and began squirming around in there. At first, Eirlys seemed to be pulling down her shoulder straps, then her expression became preoccupied and her hands went behind her back, thrusting out her breasts so far in front it looked almost painful. The T-shirt rode up more and more at the bottom, but Eirlys didn't seem to have noticed. Tina watched, transfixed, as her friend's richly-carpeted thighs and groin appeared. At last, the famous bra was ejected on to the bed and Eirlys adjusted her T-shirt, taking her time over it.
    "It's black and lacy," Tina said, picking it up. "And so soft." She placed it to her cheek. "And warm." She held it against her own chest, blushed and laid it down. "I keep forgetting how much bigger than me you are."
    "Fire of London," said Eirlys, her voice weakening.
    "1492," suggested Tina. "Or was that the Battle of Agincourt?"
    "Neither. Could I have a spoonful of your rice pudding?"
    "Okay."
    "Come and sit up yer, then, next to me."
    Tina crawled up the bed and sat on the pillows next to Eirlys, their hips and warm thighs touching.
    "You oughtta take your skirt off, case you spill any."
    "What about your mum?"
    "She won't care. We're only doing our homework."
    "I don't think I ought to..."
    "I'm not wearing a skirt. Just this T-shirt. Tell you what. You can wear one of my spare T-shirts, can't you?
    There didn't seem to be an answer to that. Tina lowered her eyes, crawled to the middle of the bed and pulled her skirt down.
    "That's better. And your blouse, too."
    Tina struggled free of her blouse, all thumbs.
    "Your bra's nice, too. I never thought of bras being anything but pink. White looks so pure, don' it? And you got a nice tan, too. It shows that off."
    "I got it at the seaside. In my bikini. Wow, it was really tight! I didn't dare try and go in the water in it. I was sticking out all over the place."
    "I wish I'd been there to see it."
    "So do I."
    "Never mind. You can show me your breasts now, can't you? Take your bra off before you put a T-shirt on. It will be more comfortable."
    Tina obeyed, the feeling in her tummy growing stronger by the minute.
    "Don't go stealing my rice pudding..."
    Eirlys had pulled one foot upwards, allowing the knee to fall to one side and rest on the bed. Almost the whole of her inner thigh was now exposed, in all its hairy glory. She patted the pillow next to her. "Your pudding will still be yer, waiting for you. T-shirts are in that top drawer."
    Tina took the first one she saw and held it up. "This one?"
    "That's fine. Hold it up a bit higher. You'd better take your panties off as well. Just to be sociable, like. I'm not wearing any."
    There was a lump in Tina's throat like an egg. She dived quickly into the T-shirt and pulled it down, then wriggled out of her panties. Oh, God, they were drenched! Eirlys must have noticed.
    "What's your bust, Tee?" She patted the pillow again, invitingly.
    "I don't know really. About forty-one or two, I think."
    "Ten inches smaller than mine. You'd never think so, to look at you. You've got lovely tits, Tina. Come on. Sit down and we'll do this History. Or would you rather I taught you some French?"
    "We'd better do our History first," said Tina shakily.
    "No, I want a mouthful of rice pudding first." Eirlys opened her mouth and closed her eyes. The spoon went in. "Wow, just a spoonful, not a bloody shovel," she spluttered. "I prefer it like this, when it's cold. My tongue don't like it too hot. Thanks, Tee," and she gently stroked her friend's hand, the one with the spoon in it.
    "Some more?"
    "In a minute. Fire of London, first."
    "I've remembered. 1666, after the Plague. It burned the houses down and stopped the spread of the Plague in its tracks."
    "Why couldn't you remember all that before?"
    "You were distracting me."
    "Me?"
    "I was looking at your big tits."
    "I saw you looking."
    "And I was looking up your legs."
    "I know. Why?"
    "I wanted to see. You're so hairy."
    "Yeah, tell me about it," Eirlys snapped angrily.
    "No! I didn't mean ... I wanted to see. It looks so sexy."
    "Don't be stupid."
    "It does. Show me, Ei..."
    "Yeah, so you can laugh and tell the other girls their new classmate's a chimpanzee."
    "Let me see!"
    "No!"
    The struggle was brief, with both girls in danger of getting sidetracked into playing with each other's tits. Within twenty seconds, the determined and lust-filled Tina had rolled Eirlys on to her back and pulled up her T-shirt to her waist and beyond. The girl's massive breasts rolled around, the long nipples peeping out the bottom.
    "I 'ope you're bloody satisfied now!"
    Tina gazed at the sight below her. She gulped and swallowed. "Have some more rice pudding," was all she could say. She took a spoonful, heaped high and wobbling. "Here it comes!"
    "You be careful with that..."
    "Don't wriggle, then."
    "Just don't drop it on my tits, that's all!"
    "Lie still!"
    "I can't. Eeek! I told you!"
    The splatt as the blob of rice slid off the spoon and landed on the end of Eirlys' right breast was followed by an almighty squirming — and a louder, wetter splosh as the dish overturned and landed upside down on her crotch. Eirlys sat up, wiping the adhesive pudding from her breast and absently transferring it to her mouth.
    "Now look what you done."
    "I'll take it off."
    "No! It will go everywhere. Get a towel first. It's all over me."
    "It's not all over you. It's still under the dish. If I hold it against you and you roll over, I can get most of it off in one go. Honest, you're like a great big baby. It's only a bit of rice. Right. I've got it. Now roll over. That's the way. Now, I've got the dish, you can roll back."
    "So, clever clogs. What's your next brilliant idea?"
    Tina held the empty dish in her hand. "How was I to know it would all come out like that."
    "It's stuck in my fucking hairs, that's fucking why!"
    "I'll dig it out with the spoon."
    "You fucking won't. You put that spoon anywhere near my pussy and you're history, girl."
    They remained, transfixed, for at least half a minute.
    Tina suddenly giggled. "History? Or French?"
    Eirlys opened her eyes wide. "Are you suggesting...?"
    "You won't let me use the spoon. What else can I do?"
    Eirlys reclined on her elbows and half closed her eyes. "Did you do this on purpose?"
    Tina blushed. "Of course I didn't!"
    "Pity!" She held out her arms. "Give me a kiss first, before you start shoving your face down there. It's probably a bit smelly."
    It was a shy, inexperienced kiss from both of them, although tongues came into the action after two or three minutes. And as soon as they came up for air, Eirlys refused to allow Tina any opportunity to talk about the experience. Tina willingly let herself be turned round and have her face pushed down into the hirsute rice pudding. Eirlys had said she wasn't all that keen on rice pudding anyway. And from what Tina could feel behind her, her friend now had something far more interesting to eat.
    It was more than half an hour later that they sat up, warm, drowsy-eyed and flushed.
    "Tina, be a love and do something for me."
    "What do you want, Ei?"
    "Just bring that glass of milk from the dressing table."
    "What glass of milk...? But where did that come from? It wasn't there before..."
    "You mean...?"
    "Oh, shit!"

"Hello, you two!"
    "Hello, Mam."
    "Hello, Mrs Jones."
    "I brought you a glass of milk. Share it between you."
    "Oh, thanks." Pandora took the glass. "We're trying some clothes on. I might borrow some of Sian's shorts and I've got some tops she can try."
    Mrs Jones looked at the two young girls and shook her head. The prospect of Pandora forcing her decidedly matronly backside into a pair of Sian's shorts was as unlikely as Sian succeeding in squeezing her bust into one of Pandora's T-shirts.
    "Good luck," she said, retreating downstairs. Mrs Jones was going in search of a stiff drink to help her recover from the scene of lesbian lust she had just witnessed in Eirlys' bedroom.
    "Hi, Mam," said Ceredwyn, who was just attaching herself to her milking machine. "All the kids seem very quiet upstairs."
    "Quiet? Yes, I suppose so. Sian and Pandora are trying on clothes. Eirlys and Tina are doing their homework."
    "Eirlys usually asks me to help her. What are they doing?"
    "Looked like Biology. I didn't want to disturb them."
    "I need some new bras, Mam."
    "I knew you'd all want new ones, once you'd seen young Eirlys showing hers off."
    "I need some anyway. Look at the state of this one."
    "Can't you borrow one of Angharad's outgrown ones? She must have some."
    "I'm not as skinny as her. I need a thirty-six. Maybe a bit more."
    Mrs Jones sighed. "I knew it. You'd better go and see Gerard on Saturday. Give him a call first, in case he's busy, but he ought to be able to fit you from stock."
    "That must be one hell of a shop, if I'm a stock size."
    "Oh, it is, don't worry! You'll be surprised at what Gerard's got."
    "Mam?"
    "No! Gerard's not that kind of a fella."

"It's not working, Panda."
    "Take it off before it splits."
    "I can't. It's stuck. I thought it would fit, but it's ever so tight. I think the milk's coming in."
    "Not again!" Pandora viewed the prospect of another bellyfull of Sian-milk with mixed feelings. It felt great drinking it, but there was so much of the stuff.
    "I can't help it. Give it one last pull. If you don't get it off now, it will split for sure. I'm going to be huge this time! Bigger than ever!"
    "How do you know?"
    "I just know. Feel them."
    Through the drum-tight too-small T-shirt, Sian's breasts felt almost as if they were swelling up by the second. Pandora whimpered. "Mum will strangle me if you rip that. It's one of hers."
    "I can't help it, can I? C'mon, try again."
    They both applied themselves to various parts of the protesting garment.
    "It's coming!"
    "Ouch! Gently!"
    It was like a small explosion. Both girls staggered backwards, Pandora landing on the bed. She looked up between her legs and saw Sian clutching the wardrobe for balance. At least, she was in no immediate danger of falling over backwards. Pandora was beginning to wonder if she had ever seen such a big pair of tits in her life. She inspected her mother's precious T-shirt for damage.
    "Never mind the shirt," Sian reminded her rudely. "You nearly pulled my tits off."
    "They're bigger than ever." Pandora rolled over and stood up. The diminutive Sian looked like a pair of tits on legs, with a little face on top as an afterthought.
    "Well, we know one thing now," said Sian. "I can't wear your tops."
    "I might still be able to wear your shorts." Pandora picked up the pale blue shorts and held them doubtfully against herself.
    "But we can't swap if your shirts are too small for me."
    "At least, let me try them on. They're a nice blue." She was already stepping into them with one leg.
    "Careful!"
    "Wow, these are tight!"
    "It's your monster bum. You're miles too big!"
    Pandora wiggled her hips and tugged at the shorts, which she somehow succeeded in pulling right up. She even fastened the button at the waist. The effect was not as the designer had intended. "They're the wrong size," she admitted.
    "They'll never be the same again," said Sian sadly. She prodded Pandora's bulging buttocks with a finger, then inspected the front. "They're disappearing up your crack. I'm not wearing them now they've been in your front bottom."
    "Maybe they'll stretch if I keep them on for a bit." They felt nice, especially in one or two places. "Why are we such different sizes, Sian?"
    "I told you I was loads bigger than you up here. I'm fifty something and you only wear a 32D. So I'm at least ten inches bigger than you."
    "I'm no good at numbers. What does ten inches look like?"
    "You're useless, you are!" Sian plucked up the tape measure from the dressing table and waved it in the air. "Measure my bum first, then I'll measure yours!"
    "Why our bums? Why not our tits?"
    "'Cos my milk's still coming in, so I'm still getting bigger. I know I'm fifty-one when I'm empty. Come on, quick."
    "Like this?" Unable to bend over, Pandora worked with difficulty in the massive shadow of her friend's bust. "Turn round. There. You've got a twenty-six inch bum."
    "They call it hips, I think. Bum's too rude. Now I'll do yours. Bloody hell!" Sian began to giggle helplessly.
    "What's the matter?"
    "You wanted to know what ten inches looked like?" Sian held up the tape in front of Pandora's blushing face. "There! Yours is thirty-six!"
    No wonder these shorts were so tight she couldn't sit down. No wonder boys looked at her whenever she walked away, her hips rolling like beachballs in a string bag.
    "It's all right," said Sian. "Boys think big things are sexy." She stopped abruptly. "That must mean they like my tits. Let me do yours first."
    Pandora raised her arms. Being measured was a pleasant process. It made her feel nice in her front bottom. So did the insistent pressure of Sian's bosom against her back as the girl grunted and wrestled the tape round her chest.
    "That's near enough. Thirty-six and a half. So I'm at least thirteen and a half inches bigger than you. I think mine are just about full now. Your turn to do me."
    Sian could probably tell when she was full up. She certainly looked bigger than ever before, including yesterday on the grass outside the dining hall. They felt almost solid now. It took both of them to hold the tape in position, balanced on the nipples.
    "Stop! We're doing it wrong!"
    "What's up?"
    "I've got to have a bra on. It's the law."
    "There's no policemen in here. It doesn't matter. Keep still. Fifty-..."
    "It's to hold your tits up properly. They hang down without your bra on."
    Pandora looked. Sian's weren't hanging down. Not like Betsy's, or even her own. They just stood up there like ... like netballs.
    "Hold them up, then. Pretend you've got a bra on, hold them up from underneath."
    Sian did so, unwilllingly, as if scared that the bedroom door might burst open and a squad of policemen would come charging in to arrest her.
    "Wow!" Pandora gasped.
    "What is it?" asked Sian irritably.
    "It's more than ten inches bigger than me."
    "We knew that."
    "Lots more!"
    "How much more?"
    "I can't work it out. I told you I'm no good with numbers."
    "Never mind the difference. What size am I?"
    "Fifty-seven."
    "Fifty-seven? That's impossible!"
    "That's what it says, look." Pandora's thumb was on the tape.
    "No it's not," said Sian. "That's only fifty-six and a half!"
    "Ah!" Pandora's face lit up. "That's good. I can work that out. You're twenty inches bigger than me!"

End of Chapter 4