BIG FEATURE AT ST CAT'S

by Some Sort of Dog



WARNING: This warning is slightly different every time, but it always says 
more or less the same thing. This story features schoolgirls with large 
breasts. If you don't want to read about such things, you know what to do. 
If you are a minor, wherever you live, read no further. It is probably 
against the law for you to read this material.

Although our young heroines are no more pure and virginal than any other 
human beings in their position, they are not depicted here as having sexual 
relations with adults. Such a prospect, indeed, would fill them with horror 
and disgust. The story is a fantasy. Some fantastic things may well happen, 
but NOBODY gets raped, killed, or explodes. You want that, there's plenty of 
such crudity available elsewhere. Go find it.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: Many of the characters in this story have appeared 
before. Although it is not strictly necessary, it might help if readers are 
already familiar with the other stories in the series. Details are given at the 
end of this story.





BIG FEATURE AT ST CAT'S

by Some Sort of Dog





Part I





Chapter 1:- They're Back - The Biggest Breasts In The World


Smegs held up the Biggest Breasts in the World against her chest. "These 
are tremendous, the most realistic I've seen," she sighed. Even deflated, 
they were impressive. "How did she keep them on, glue?"

Victoria nodded. "Glue round the edges, and on the bits that go up to the 
shoulders, Miss. It's special glue, that doesn't have a smell. Shaynette gave 
me some, and told us where we can get more."

Moggie rubbed the soft latex between her fingers, then sat behind her 
desk with her fingers clasped together behind her head. "When did 
Shaynette give you these, Victoria?"

The Third Form girl looked unhappy. "Last month, Miss Thunderbolt. When 
we caught Shaynette at the studio. She showed me how to put them on, 
and all about the glue and everything."

"So you didn't bring them straight to a teacher. Why not?"

"I wanted to try them myself, Miss," Victoria admitted in a tiny voice. To 
see what it was like to have such big breasts. I only tried them properly 
once. It wasn't very nice, Miss."

I felt like telling her I told you so. I was getting fed up with Victoria 
coming to me, out of character, asking why I didn't write her a bigger pair 
of boobs, bigger than her young sister's, bigger even than her young 
cousin's. She had promised to get even, and I confess, I was still 
apprehensive about what she might do.

"It might have been better if you had brought them to us straight away, 
Toria," scolded Smegs. "We could have exposed Shaynette and her buddies 
at the studio. Nice little story, and credit for St Cat's. It's too late now, the 
story's dead meat."

She was right enough, Smut Newspapers had found another story, about a 
bonk-crazed housewife who had taken on all comers in her street in a 
memorable night of rumpy-pumpy sex romps. They were finding more 
new comers willing to confess every day.

"What did they feel like to wear, Toria?" I asked her, as gently as I could.

She brightened a little. "Not too heavy, Miss, but they get in the way. Well, 
you'd know about that, Miss." She smiled. I couldn't remember when I'd 
last seen Toria smiling. "Shaynette was stronger than me, Miss, she was all 
muscle. No tits, though! She was flat as anything."

Moggie gently laid the latex creation on her desk. "Well, as Miss Mountains 
says, it would have been better if you had told us sooner, Victoria. But it's 
over, now. There's nothing we can do. I think we ought to have a black 
museum, then we can keep the Biggest Breasts in the World in there as our 
major exhibit. Still," she grinned at Victoria, "how's your little sister? No ill 
effects from the prowler incident?"

"She's fine, Miss. And she says she's loving the self-defence classes with 
Rumiko."

"Good! I come by the dojo now and again, just to watch. So do Miss 
Mountains and Miss Gruntworthy, I know. It's good to watch the girls 
learning new skills."

Smegs and I nodded eagerly. We agreed, as I was sure Moggie did, that the 
sight of busty young girls wearing gi was a remarkably arousing one, for 
some reason. I could watch them for hours and I inevitably felt 
uncontrollably horny afterwards. Jeremy had noticed it, and any time he 
saw me heading in the direction of the old girl-tuna cannery - now the 
Self-Defence Training Centre - he warmed the engine of the Jaguar in 
anticipation of a couple of hours of quickie sex on the back seat. Her was 
rarely disappointed, and to be perfectly honest, nor was I. 

"Well, if there's nothing else," Moggie raised her eyebrows at Smegs and 
me, "that will be all, Victoria. Thank you. Megan, a moment, if you will ..."

Dismissed, I followed Victoria out through Miss Labia's outer office - where 
the headmistress's secretary was plucking her bikini line with tweezers - 
and into the corridor.

"I'll walk down with you, Toria."

"Oh, all right, Miss." We walked in silence for a while. "Miss?"

"Yes, Toria?"

"I'm sorry, Miss. About always asking for bigger tits and threatening you 
and everything. Now I've tried wearing the Biggest Breasts in the World, 
I'm not so sure. Maybe a few inches bigger, to make me as big as Pansy's, 
but ..."

"I'm sure they will grow a bit more, yet. Your mother is much bigger than 
you still. They'll grow on their own. How's Sex going?"

She looked up at me in surprise. "Oh, Sex classes! It's great having them 
ever day! I like Mondays, Basic Wanking. And Tuesdays is brilliant, 
Applied Orgasms. I tried a G-Spot Jobbie this week, and actually did a 
squirter! But Vibrator Work, on Wednesdays, yuck!"

"What's wrong with it? That's Miss Mountains isn't it?"

"All we've done so far is learn how to change batteries. Thursdays are 
getting better, Giving and Receiving Pleasure; and Friday, Loving 
Relationships, Ooooh! They're brilliant, as well!"

"Yes, they are, aren't they!"

"Miss?"

We had stopped outside her classroom door. "You know I asked about 
bigger boobs, Miss? No, I'm not asking again. And I won't ask again. It's 
just ... I was wondering about a boyfriend, Miss. Just a little one?"

"You want a boyfriend? You want me to write you a boyfriend?" 

"I'm big enough to have one, Miss. How old were you when you ...?"

"Fourteen. You know that. You did "Fourth Form at St Cat's" for your end-
of-term test, didn't you?"

"I got 98 percent, Miss! Try me."

"Who owned Jeremy's Jaguar?"

"Easy-peasy. Mr Rawlings. Camshaft bearings, whatever they are."

"Right. What time did I get out of bed on the night Virginia's breasts 
grew?"

"12.34!"

"Jeez! You've learned it by heart. Where did you manage to lose two 
marks?"

"Virginia O'Hara's dad's car. I said a 2CV, it should have been a Rover 
Metro."

"Unlucky. I'd never have known. Who set the questions?"

"You did, Miss. Anyway, Miss. You were fourteen, and you were dead 
innocent, Miss. I'm younger, but I've had far more experience, I'm more 
grown-up, and I've got infinitely bigger boobs, so why can't I have a 
boyfriend?"

You see? How can you argue with logic like that?


**********

"Another staff meeting? Do we have to?"

"Fraid so," said Smegs. "There's a lot to discuss. Moggie and I had a chat 
about it yesterday. And we need you in on the decisions. Moggie speaks 
very highly of your talents, you know."

I didn't know whether to swell with pride or blush prettily. In the end, I 
did both at the same time. It's harder than it sounds.

"What are we discussing?"

"Future strategy: international students, the curriculum, the school choir, 
new projects ..."

"Gosh! We're still pressing on with international students, then? I thought 
Moggie had been scared off by the last three."

"Not so bad, now Shaynette's out of it. There's just Isabella, who's getting 
fatter every week, and Demi, who's getting hairier, and smellier."

"Not smellier, since I gave her a scrub in the showers. She's quite pure 
now. And her body hair is amazingly soft when it's washed. It's like 
stroking a cat. I don't know about Isabella, though, she's getting enormous. 
It's almost as though someone's encouraging her to feed. Not that she 
needs much encouragement."

"I can't imagine who would do that to the girl, or why. Have you stroked 
Demi at all, then?"

"A little." I found myself going bright red. "After her shower, I helped dry 
her off with the hair dryer. She is a hugely affectionate girl. I suppose she 
wanted to show her appreciation." I was getting wet just remembering it.

"Good to see you doing your bit for Anglo-French relations, Shan," said 
Smegs seriously. "Perhaps we can find you another hairy little European 
girl."

"I'm not fussy, you know. A smooth-shaven American would do, plump 
little mound, rounded bottom, puffy nipples, and cute little innie navel ..."

"I think I got all that," nodded Smegs, putting away her pencil and closing 
her diary. "Anyway, between now and the meeting, think about the 
curriculum, see if you think Sex once a day is enough for the girls, think 
about the school choir, everything, okay?"


**********

So I thought about it a lot. Jeremy helped me think about the Frequency of 
Sex, which was a great deal of fun. We were really getting quite good at it 
by now. Jeremy had installed a double bed in the caretaker's shed, and we 
spent our free time in there, keeping the back of the Jag for special 
occasions. Of course, I missed Orson's sweet talk. Jeremy was less inclined 
to tell me during a bout of sex that my breasts were the most gigantic he 
had ever buried his head between, or that my pussy was arguably the 
largest in the world as we knew it.

But then, I knew that Jeremy had once had his head between Baps's 
breasts, which were so much bigger than mine it just wasn't true. So had 
Orson, for that matter.

Anyway. Just because I was getting it regularly and often, that didn't mean 
there was any reason to become obsessed with sex. I had decided, in view 
of my headmistress's high opinion of me, to throw all my energies into my 
work, my vocation, my teaching.

It was with those high ideals that I strode briskly into Miss Labia's outer 
office the next day. The secretary wasn't plucking her bikini line, so I 
assumed that her pubic hair was now as neat and tidy as the ladies of her 
Church Ladies' Circle would wish to see it. She was rouging her nipples, 
which I found quite fascinating. "Go right in, they're expecting you," she 
drawled without even looking up.

"Ah, Shan," Moggie smiled. "Take a seat ... no, don't let me stop you ... I'll 
just read these letters." It was kind of Moggie to allow Smegs and me a few 
seconds to greet each other. I hadn't seen her since breakfast, and she 
slipped her tongue into my mouth as soon as I came into the office.

"Golly!" I breathed, "have you been missing me, darling?"

We finished our tender love-making and turned to Moggie with just the 
occasional gentle caress or two.

"Is that better, now?" enquired Moggie.

"Yes, thank you, Miss," we chanted in unison.

"Good. Now then. Let's get straight down to it. International students!"

We sat up straight and gazed at her in open admiration. She sounded so 
*commanding*.

"Despite the minor problems with the first batch, I think we can take in 
some more foreign girls. We will have to be a little more careful with our 
vetting, especially the problems of identification, but I do think we can 
write to another small batch. No more than three girls at this early stage, 
until we get into the routine, but three girls would bring in ..." she tapped a 
few keys on her calculator "... hmmm! As much as that? Excellent!" 

"We'll look after that for you, headmistress," said Smegs efficiently, and I 
stroked her soft, velvety, creamy upper thigh in helpless adulation. 
Without knowing or caring about the outcome, I embarked on an orgasm.

"Thank you, Megan. Now, Chauntaille, your First Formers have done an 
excellent job on the measuring of the new girls. I have had splendid 
reports from the Information Superhighway about the service you 
provided." I completed my orgasm and did my trick of swelling with pride 
and blushing prettily. "How do you do that, Shan?" asked Moggie. "It looks 
extremely difficult."

"Oh, you just concentrate on swelling with pride, Miss. The blushing takes 
care of itself."

"I'll try it later. Now, following on from that, the school choir, the St Cat's 
Chorus, is going on tour. I will be accompanying them, with Miss Rhys ap 
Llewelyn Owen as choirmistress. We have entered a competition in 
Newcastle ..."

"... On-Tyne, Miss?"

"Naturally! So we will do a few concerts on the way, to get warmed up, as 
it were. The organisers of the contest have asked us for full details of the 
choir. I can't imagine *what* they want to know about them, so I propose 
to use my initiative and provide details of each individual girl. You know 
the sort of thing: age, height, weight, hair colour, measurements, virginity 
status, sexual inclination if any. I intend to leave it all to you. I suppose 
you could say if the girl is a tenor or a bass or whatever. Do a summary as 
well: average age, average height, average weight, average hair colour, 
average measurements ... the lot. Okay? No problems? We leave on 
Monday, so you will need to act quickly and do a bit of planning so that the 
girls don't miss any classes. Your team could go round the classes and 
measure them in situ, as it were. I'll let you get on with it, then."

"Thank you, Miss," I was filled with pride and ambition. Smegs winked at 
me and I slipped a few fingers beneath her bottom on the seat, searching 
for the cleft of her behind. She wriggled happily and placed her tongue so 
far into my ear it almost came out of the other side.

"God, you young ones," sighed Moggie. "Let me get on and finish, then you 
can go to bed if you like. You really are the randiest couple of girls I ever 
saw." She started talking faster. "We need to reintroduce English into the 
curriculum. I'm sorry about it, but it's out of my hands. Any ideas?"

"How about Smut, Miss?"

"Smut, Chauntaille?"

"Smut writing. Short Smut stories, longer Smut stories. Smutty poems. Then 
there's Smut literature, Smut appreciation ..."

"Sounds great! Work it out and let me have the details. Any ideas, Megan?"

"Shan's put her finger on it as usual," she squeaked. I wiggled my finger 
about, and Smegs moaned sharply in confirmation. I certainly had! Smegs 
went on, her voice unsteady. "We could extend it to cover Filth, Miss!"

"I don't think Filth is such a good idea, Megan. Smut is usually so much 
better written. The standard of English, spelling, grammar. Filth tends to be 
so repetitive, don't you think, Shan?"

"I've never read any, Miss," I lied, not wanting to be too disloyal to my 
friend.

"That's decided, then. We'll stick with Smut. One more thing. New projects. 
How's Giganto going, Megan?"

"It's recovering, Miss. The Shaynette business was a nasty hiccup; we 
dropped Jayne, one of our top five girls, when Shaynette came in. Now 
Shaynette's gone, Jayne refuses to come back. She says she'll do it, so long 
as we'll let her get pregnant."

"Jayne Thweape? Pregnant? Why?"

"She read somewhere about a woman whose breasts became enormous 
during pregnancy, and she wants to try it for herself."

"How big are her breasts now, Megan?"

Megan indicated with both hands, failed, then tried again using the waste 
paper basket as a guide. It wasn't big enough, so she added a couple of 
cushions.

"Is that one of them, or both?"

"That's each."

"Hmmm. Can't imagine why. Those things must be well into three figures 
already. Well, it's her decision, how old is she?"

"Seventeen, Miss."

"Okay, let her go for it. She's in the St Cat's Chorus. There might be an 
opportunity to get her banged up next week, on tour, but it's one more 
worry we could do without. Let's see if we can impregnate her before we 
leave. Can you spare Jeremy, Shan?"

I spread my hands, feeling a lump in my throat, but loyalty to St Cat's 
overcame my deeper feelings for my lover.

"It's only for a few nights, Shan," sympathised Moggie, tenderly.

"I'll look after you, darling," purred Smegs.

"Oh, I suppose so, in that case." We teachers must be prepared to make 
sacrifices for the kids in our care.





Chapter 2:- Disharmony In The Choir


I took the newly-formed Junior Statistics Group to see a rehearsal of the St 
Cat's Chorus. It would give them more of a feel for the task in hand.

We sat in the shadows and watched the thirty girls in their familiar horse-
shoe formation on the stage. Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen stood in front of 
them with her baton raised. At the signal, thirty chests inflated 
impressively, thirty pure little faces were thrust eagerly forward into the 
spotlight. Then thirty mouths opened wide enough to inhale the biggest 
manhood imaginable, and the sweetest of sounds flowed from the depths 
of thirty deep throats.

The girls of the newly-formed Junior Statistics Group sighed at the sheer 
beauty of it all. As the youthful voices soared, I felt a familiar wetness in 
my knickers, and knew I shared it with the Junior Statistics Group. And 
when the song had ended, I knew I shared it with the entire St Cat's 
Chorus as well. Ah, the wonder of choral singing, for making the hairs rise 
on the back of the neck, and to set the juices flowing. Even if you are tone-
deaf.

I led the newly-formed Junior Statistics Group girls out of the hall and 
back to the lab, where they sat silently, still thunderstruck by the whole 
thing.

"Are we ready for this task, then, girls?"

"Yes, Miss, we're all right behind you," asserted Suzanne, as spokesgirl for 
the group.

"Right. I have a little list. We will measure them all tomorrow morning. We 
use the table-top method. It is more time-consuming, but it is far more 
accurate. Any questions?"

"What about the betting, Miss?" That was Pansy.

"Betting? What betting?"

"We did it on the new girls, Miss, in a small way. We said we'd try and do 
it properly next time. And this is the next time. We publish a list of ranges 
of average bust size for the choir. You know, Miss? Spread betting. 30" to 
32", 32" to 34", 34" to 36" ... and so on like that, and people bet on their 
choice. We work out the odds and with our specialised knowledge, we can't 
lose, Miss. It's candy from a baby, Miss!"

"I don't really know, Pansy. It doesn't sound the sort of thing we ought to 
be encouraging in a school."

"Miss Thunderbolt thinks it's a great idea, Miss. She won twenty quid on 
Shaynette, Miss!"

"Did she, though? Okay, I suppose it can do no harm. Who's in charge?"

"I am," said Shona promptly. "I've printed all the stationery already, Miss." 
She showed me the forms, which showed spreads from 30 inches right up 
to 80.

"That ought to cover it, Shona! Okay, you may start selling tickets."

"Oh, good, Miss. We've taken a hundred and thirty-seven pounds already. 
You're the only member of staff who hasn't bought one."

"I don't think it's very ethical for me to enter, being part of the measuring 
team."

The girls looked at me with wrinkled noses, shaking their heads in 
disbelief.

"If you say so, Miss." Shona started putting the tickets back into their 
envelope.

"How's fifty-four to fifty-six inches looking, Shona," I asked her.

"We can give you Elevens, since it's you, Miss," said Shona instantly.

"Sounds fair enough," and I handed her a crisp fiver.


**********

Some of my readers are no doubt gagging to know how thirty schoolgirls 
could possibly have an average bust measurement of between fifty-four 
and fifty-six inches. How could a teacher at that school, knowing all of 
those thirty girls personally, have been so stupid as to place a bet on their 
average bust measurement being as large as that.

Rather than confuse my readers with facts and figures, I have borrowed 
the officially approved list of the names of the girls in the choir - from 
Anstiss, Marianne to Zyldavrian, Cornetta - from the Junior Statistics 
Group, and have shown all the relevant details in a separate appendix to 
this story. Those of you who are into computers will perhaps know what I 
mean if I call it something like <bigapp-c.txt> - whatever that means.


**********

All the punters underestimated the bust size of the choir. A combination of 
circumstances, including misleadingly chubby Juniors, surprisingly 
pendulous Middles and mountainously-endowed Seniors, all measured by 
the table-top method - which called for the girls to dangle their breasts 
over the edge of a table to be measured - resulted in an average bust 
measurement of fifty-five and a half inches, which was very satisfying, for 
me especially.

We sent off the details of the choir to the contest organisers. They did send 
a fax in reply querying the average measurements, but I supposed that 
they were using a different measuring method from us. A few hours later, 
another fax arrived, listing the average measurements of all the other 
choirs in the contest, and St Cat's was in the lead by a clear nineteen 
inches. We couldn't lose!

Monday morning came round, to my joy. I would be getting Jeremy back. 
He hadn't had the best of luck in his attempts at impregnating the girl 
Thweape, despite her curiously intense love-making style. She was all 
action between the sheets of the double bed in the caretaker's shed, and 
the noise she made was beginning to embarrass the entire school. As soon 
as any of the girls heard la Thweape's fervent cries of "Oh, stick it in me, 
lover," or "c'mon, big boy, fill me up with your pulsating immensity," they 
blushed deeply and shuffled their feet.

It had the same effect on Jeremy, in the form of instant detumescence. "It's 
a pity," he confided to me, during a brief lull in their mating ritual, "Jayne's 
a great-looking girl, with tits to die for, but as soon as she starts yelling, 
my pulsating immensity turns into a limp chipolata." I hoped it was only 
temporary.

We all waved goodbye as the choir set off in their bus, its windows 
festooned with ribbons and banners, the girls in their shortest skirts and 
most uplifting bras. Every one of us had a lump in our throats as we waved 
goodbye to them.

Later, when Moggie called from their hotel, she explained that there had 
been a little trouble with the police on the motorway. But once the girls 
had been persuaded to remove from the rear window of the bus the life-
size nude poster featuring the young Countess Langsdorf - the biggest-
breasted girl in the choir - the rest of the journey went without a hitch.

"I must dash," said Moggie over the phone, "I've got a heavy date."

"But what about the girls," I asked her.

"They can make their own arrangements," she cackled. "It may seem harsh, 
but it's for their own good. In fact, I've seen half a dozen of them with 
boys already, so there's no need to worry unduly on their account."

"I hope they don't have any trouble," I said.

"The ones I saw weren't having any trouble at all," giggled Moggie, "there 
were a couple of the Junior girls who were after a bunch of young boys, 
but I don't think they'll get anywhere with them, they've got their parents 
with them. Daft bitches, but they'll learn. Do them good! Apart from that, 
three of the Middles have pulled waiters, for sure. And Miss Rhys ap 
Llewelyn Owen seems to have disappeared. I'll tell you more in the 
morning! Oooh! Pablo! You cheeky thing! Must go, Chauntaille! Byeee-ulpp!"

And she was gone.


**********

Moggie was partly right in her prediction of the choir's success on its first 
night away from St Cat's. Aside from her own liaison with Pablo, the wine 
waiter - which fell flat when Pablo's boyfriend arrived to collect him from 
the foyer at ten-thirty - there were some positive aspects to report.

Four Junior girls claimed a result with two of the young boys, who escaped 
or were abducted from parental care long enough to ensure the loss of six 
virginities, presumably permanently.

The Middle girls failed to pull anything worth writing home about, and 
retired to one room which boasted a mini-bar. A grand orgy erupted, 
which was described by all who took part as "incredible".

The Seniors - who would normally be expected to carry the flag of St Cat's 
- had mixed success, although all of them were back in the hotel in time 
for breakfast, and those who chose to entertain friends in their hotel rooms 
pronounced themselves well satisfied.

The greatest surprise came when Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen staggered 
into the foyer at nine am, her clothing in disarray, her eyes glazed, reeking 
of sex, and looking - as she was described by the Juniors - shagged to an 
absolute frazzle. She slumped down at a table with a cup of black coffee, 
muttering ancient Druidic oaths. The only words of English anyone could 
coax out of her were "never again", which seemed rather a drastic solution.

The whole choir even made it on to their bus and were safely out of town 
before the police arrived at the hotel to investigate complaints of young 
women allegedly causing a public nuisance by removing articles of clothing 
in the street.

Needless to say, the choir's progress report did not come from Moggie, who 
was not available for comment the following morning. The news was 
conveyed to me at second hand by Victoria, who was not best pleased.

"It's not good enough, Miss," she whined. "I can sing!" She trilled a few 
notes, and girls passing us in the corridor stared at her in alarm. "Why 
couldn't you let *me* be in the St Cat's Chorus? I could have been one of 
those four who pulled the lads. I wouldn't have settled for losing my 
cherry in two minutes! I'd have given those boys a night to remember for 
the rest of their lives."

"Toria, listen!" She curled her lip. "Don't you want *your* first time to be 
worth remembering for the rest of your life?" Toria still looked scornful. 
"Well, don't you?"

"I suppose so, Miss," she mumbled.

"If I have anything to do with it, then you will." The girl brightened a little. 
"But you might have to wait a little while, that's all."


**********

Next morning, there was a call for me from Moggie. Strange, normally she 
would have spoken to Smegs.

"Chauntaille? We did our first concert last night, at Stoke-on-Trent. It went 
off all right, although one of the girls got herself laid afterwards and nearly 
missed the bus to the hotel."

"Oh, no, that's terrible!"

"Yes, it could have been. Another one of the Juniors, I'm afraid. We've only 
got two virgin Juniors left now. Plenty of Middles and Seniors who are still 
intact, but we are running short of Juniors."

"That's terrible, Miss. Which two have survived so far?"

"The youngest Elphinstone girl, and Lim-Bim-Xuoyung Ng."

"But they're the two Juniors with the biggest tits!"

"Yes, I know. Anyway, the Juniors have got this sort of scoreboard they 
keep waving around on the bus, and it upsets the older ones who haven't 
managed to get laid yet. I'm afraid some of them might do something 
regrettable if it goes on much longer."

"You mean ...?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, dear!"

"Anyway, the reason I asked for you, we have discovered a number of 
empty spray bottles under the seats of the bus. The girls all look blank and 
deny all knowledge, but somebody must know something. Trouble is, I 
don't know what was in the bottles, love, fuck or tits. They all smell the 
same. Nor do we know if there are any more still unused. It might explain 
some of the Uncontrollable Horniness we've been afflicted with."

"It might, certainly."

"But you know what this stuff is like. If there's any tit-spray going the 
rounds, it could cause real problems. We don't want any girls busting their 
blouses on stage. Especially on Friday at the contest. It's on television."

"Gosh, Miss. Is it?"

"Yes. BBC2, of course. Minority appeal, huge-breasted schoolgirl choirs. 
Anyway. Have a word with your Sexual Chemistry girls, see if they know 
anything. I suspect someone may have been trying to increase a few bust 
measurements for some reason."

"That's possible, but I can't think why anyone would want to do such a 
thing."

"Who won the betting on the average bust size?"

"I did!"

"I see. Not very ethical, Chauntaille!" 

"I know. That's why I guessed a ridiculously high number, hoping not to 
win. Nobody else got near it but me. Whoever would have thought it would 
have been fifty-five and a half? It was all those Lower Sixth girls, vast 
danglers, all of them. With the table top method, there wasn't one of them 
less than eighty-five inches! The key to the whole table top method," I 
explained, "is to make sure they dangle freely for at least five minutes. 
They can stretch at least three inches under their own weight during that 
time."

"It could end up a sight more than that, if someone starts spraying tit-juice 
around this bloody bus. Do check it out, Shan, there's a love."

"All right. Where are you performing tonight?"

"A boys' school in Huddersfield."

"I see. You'd better break a leg, then."

"I'll call tomorrow and tell you how we got on ..."


**********

I hope Moggie didn't suspect *me* of trying to increase the average bust 
measurement of the choir to suit my own ends. If I had, I would have 
staked a lot more than a fiver at eleven to one.

But it wasn't nice to be under suspicion. The fact remained, though, 
*someone* had smuggled some Sexual Chemistry on to the choir's bus, for 
whatever reason. And that someone was probably a Junior girl. It was a 
sickening thought. I confronted them.

"Do I have to punish all of you for the indiscretions of one girl? Own up 
now and you will get off lightly. If not, the entire class will be in detention 
for an hour every night from tonight onwards. You have a choice." And I 
turned on my heel and stalked out of the classroom, spoiling the effect 
slightly by losing my balance and bumping my right tit against the door 
frame.





Chapter 3:- Shan Flies In


"I don't know how Moggie expects me to get on with the Giganto Project," 
Smegs complained. "She says 'go ahead', but she's taken two of the most 
important members away with her to the harmony screwfest in 
Newcastle."

"Can't the others get on with it without the Countess and the Thweape 
girl?"

"Not a lot they can do. The Countess is the biggest girl in the school - it's 
official - and Thweape is still trying to get pregnant. In fact, if she'd shown 
any sort of initiative, she'd have become pregnant back in October, so we'd 
be able to watch her breasts growing before our eyes, now. Even assuming 
she's successful, it's going to be Easter before she starts getting bigger. 
Lousy planning."

"Isn't there something else they can do instead? How about their 
mothers?"

"What about their mothers?"

"Do they take after them in the most important ways? Take the biggest 
girls in the school and study their mothers. Comparative photographs, how 
big they were when they were the same age as their daughters are now, 
the usual stuff."

"You're forgetting one thing, Shan. The Lower Sixth are a special case. They 
grew huge because of boob-juice. In fact, the whole of St Cat's is a special 
case. Can you point to any of our larger-breasted girls and put your hand 
on your heart ..."

"I can't put my hand on my heart, Smegs, you know that ..."

"... and say, 'this girl is all-natural'? I wouldn't like to swear to any of them. 
Can you hold up your hand and say that?"

I held up my fingers. Actually, what I did was, I took my fingers out of 
Smegs's moist and dewy cooze and held them up. "Oooh, look," I pointed 
out to her, "your juice is making a sort of bubble between my fingers, like 
a window!" I peered at her through it. It burst.

"Shan, try to concentrate, please!"

"There's young Suzanne, and Pansy, and Toria, for starters. I know for a 
fact, they are one hundred per cent natural." I ticked them off on my 
fingers. "That's three. Poo! My fingers don't half stink!"

I wiped them on Smegs's panties, which were lying on the table. A few of 
the girls who were sitting near us in the school restaurant got up and 
moved to a more distant table.

"So, you've thought of three!"

"There are more. The Elphinstone girls ..."

"All right, I'll grant you those."

"There's Vulva Morgenstern ..."

"Forty-eight? You call that big?"

"At any other school in the country, it would be, yes. Here, she's just 
average. Then there's young Lim-Bim-Xuoyung Ng. She's vast!"

"I don't trust her, she's probably been injected with special substances by 
the authorities."

"All you have to do is ask her for a picture of her mother, and any sisters, 
or aunties. Same with the other girls. Call it 'Gigantomastia Down the Ages'. 
There, I even thought of a title for you!"

We slowly got up from the table. Smegs climbed into her knickers and 
pulled them right up tight with a little gasp. We threaded our way 
between the tables, thronged with girls stuffing themselves with vast 
quantities of fattening food. They took little notice of us, despite the fact 
that Smegs was naked apart from her knickers.

"Will you be dressing before we go outside," I asked her, "I brought your 
clothes."

"Not worth it, we'll make a dash for it." So we did, arriving in a rush at the 
entrance to the main Voluptua Valentine Building. I brushed the raindrops 
off her breasts, using the long silky blonde hair of a passing Fourth Former.

"Thank you, Jeannine."

"S'all right, Miss. For you, any time!"

"Have you noticed, Shan? The girls seem to treat you with a new respect. 
You are the most popular of the teaching staff. You could have any one of 
these girls as your concubine, at the merest snap of your fingers!"

I inspected my fingers. They still wouldn't snap, they were too slippery 
with Smegs's lubricant. Still, it was an intriguing concept.

"Gosh! Do you really think so? Ooops, not this one, though. Look, it's young 
Toria!"

"Give me my clothes," demanded Smegs, "I'll see you in the staff room."

Toria wheeled to a halt, effectively pinning me against the wall.

"Miss?"

"Yes, Toria?"

"You know I said I wished I'd been in the choir? Well, I don't really, not 
any more. But I do want to be part of the Lower Sixth Gigantomastia Down 
the Ages Project."

"How did you know about that?"

She ignored the question. "I want the researchers to look into my parents, 
grandparents and great-grandparents," she said.

"And your sister, and your cousin?"

"No, not them, they're irrelevant."

"They're bigger than you. In fact, if I wanted to, I could introduce a scene 
where they get measured for simply gigantic new bras."

Victoria went pale. "You wouldn't, Miss!"

"Well, no, I wouldn't. There's no need to. Now they're wearing ScatBras, 
their bras automatically compensate for their constant and steady growth."

"For their WHAT?"

"Their constant and steady growth! They've been getting slowly bigger 
ever since the Holidays. You mean you haven't noticed?"

She was fleeing down the corridor in tears. Her bottom was wondrously 
shaped, and her breasts bounced quite superbly as she ran. I could have 
described other aspects of Toria's undoubted beauty, but you can overdo 
these things.


**********

Moggie didn't call until the morning after the Huddersfield Concert. "How'd 
it go?" I asked her.

"As a demonstration of choral singing by a girls' choir, it was exemplary. 
As an orgy, it left something to be desired."

"You didn't get any of the action, then?"

"I didn't say that," she muttered huffily. "In fact, since you bring up the 
subject, I did take supper with Mr Anschluss, the boys' school Music 
Master.

"Supper, eh? Sounds promising."

"So don't go jumping to conclusions, that's all. Unfortunately, we seem to 
have suffered some losses."

"Girls?"

"Virginities. Young Elphinstone, Yvonne. And her two sisters ..."

"Oh, no...!"

"And nine others. We have been asked not to visit again. Apparently the 
boys are in a state of uprising."

"I'm not surprised. Most boys would be with that lot hanging around 
them."

"And that's not all. There have been some expansions!"

"Oh, shit, no. This will upset all our statistics. Not to mention the averages. 
All bets will be null and void. I will have to hand back my winnings ..."

"Chauntaille!"

"Yes, Miss?"

"The averages are not important. Nor are the winnings. What is important 
is the question of brassieres and school blouses. Do you have a pencil?"

"A pen, yes. Will that do?"

"At a pinch, yes. I am going to need someone to fly up to Newcastle this 
afternoon, with five new brassieres in the right sizes, plus five blouses. It 
is vital that we have these girls dressed and adequately supported in time 
for the contest tomorrow night. You'd better come yourself. I'm not sure I 
can trust anyone else with this. Now, note down these details ..."


**********

"You're a genius, Shan! A bloody genius!" Smegs was jumping up and down 
in a most disturbing manner, clutching a little pile of photographs. 

"Thank you, Smegs. What are those? Naughty pictures?"

"Not naughty. These are photographs of girls' families."

"Already?"

"They all had pictures of their mothers. One or two even had family groups 
showing the older generations. I had them all copied by the Pornography 
Centre. We may have the makings of a worthwhile project. This could put 
St Cat's on the map in the area of Genealogical Gigantomastia Research."

"Is there one? A map of the area of what you said?"

What are you on about, Shan? Do you want to look at these photos or not? 
Aren't you interested in huge-breasted women or something?"

"Sorry, Smegs. I was preoccupied. Moggie wants me to fly up to Newcastle 
today with a bunch of bras and blouses. They've had some expansions in 
the choir. Here's the list."

"This will affect the averages, won't it," said Smegs, eagerly. "You will have 
to hand back your winnings."

"I don't see why. I guessed higher than anyone. This is going to increase 
the average."

"Wrong. Read the law. All bets are null and void. Stakes must be returned, 
less tax, to the investors."

"Bollocks to that! I've spent it."

"Foul and abusive language won't help matters, Chauntaille!"

"Fuck off!" I said, and made a haughty exit, bruising my left breast on the 
corner of the desk as I swept from the room. That's the trouble with 
having tits right down there.


**********

I never did see all those pictures of the girls' mothers and sisters and 
grandmothers. I would have to be specially nice to Smegs when I got back 
from up North. Meanwhile, there was my jet-setting trip on a plane. 
Teaching is so romantic. I never dreamed it would be like this.

"You should have been booked to fly Club Class," shrilled the hostess. I still 
call them air hostesses, despite what the grammar checker thinks they 
ought to be called. She spoke in a particularly piercing voice, which made 
everyone look at us.

"I can't get in there," I pointed out to her again. "It's wide enough, 
sideways - just - but there's not enough room in front of the seat."

"It's not the airline's fault if you have a problem."

"I don't have a problem, it's your seats."

"As I already told you, you ought to have been booked ..."

"Is there a space on the booking form that asks 'do you have a ten-foot 
bust'?"

The hostess blushed. Golly! I never thought I would see such a thing. She 
disappeared in the direction of the sharp end, and came back with a young 
man in the advanced stages of homosexuality. 

"I wonder if you would you like to walk this way, madam," he asked, and 
demonstrated the way he wondered if I would like to walk. I tried, but 
didn't have the hips for it. He led the way to a well-appointed cabin full of 
suits with supercilious expressions and expensive pigskin briefcases. "Your 
seat, madam!"

There seemed to be enough room for my breasts, although one of them did 
rather flop into the lap of the passenger next to me. He apologised 
charmingly and helped me lift it over the arm-rest into my lap. Then he 
picked up his briefcase from the floor where I had sent it flying.

"I'm so sorry, there's not much room in these things, is there?"

"It must be a problem," he smiled, and I felt my loins turn to warm water. 

"They can be. It can be, yes!"

But then, we started to move, backwards. I looked out of the window to 
confirm this, and must have looked worried. The nice man grinned. "Do you 
fly this way often?"

As opposed to what? Forwards? Flapping my wings? Breathing deeply and 
drifting on the wind? What sort of a chat-up line was that?

"It's my first time," I croaked, clutching at the arm-rest and grabbing his 
arm by mistake. His expression changed to acute pain. "Oops, sorry!" I 
stroked his arm with my hand, then realised what I was doing and jerked 
away. The plane was going the right way now, and making more noise.

"No need to be nervous. We'll soon be there. Hold my hand if it makes you 
feel better." He stopped, embarrassed. "Ah!"

"What's the matter?" I asked him.

"Your seat-belt. You have to belt up. How ...?"

"It's under here somewhere ..."

"Perhaps the cabin staff would ..."

"No, I can manage, excuse me. May I rest this on here for a moment?" I 
tried balancing my breast on the arm-rest but it fell off into his lap again.

"You can leave it here until you've done up your belt. It's all right, it will 
be quite safe here. It's no trouble at all ..."

"Thank you. I'll have it back now. Golly! I swear it's getting bigger. Thanks! 
What must you think of me?"

"My pleasure. Are you going up North on business, or pleasure?"

"Business. Sort of, anyway. I teach. Some of the girls from my school are 
performing in a choir contest tomorrow. I'm taking them some ... 
replacement costumes."

"Talk about coincidence! I'm going to the same place. No, honestly! I'm in 
television, well, on the fringes of it,really. I'm producing a film of the 
contest. The contest is live on television, but the film is more of an in-
depth thing; you know, the choirs themselves, the singers - the people 
behind the choirs!" The last bit he said with such deep inner meaning I 
blushed prettily.

"I'm only a dogsbody. Nothing to do with the singing. When it comes to 
singing, I'm flat as a pancake."

"I can't believe that."

The aircraft surged forward with an exhilarating burst of acceleration. 
"Wheeee!" I cried, then clutched at his hand as we tilted back in our seats 
and roared vertically upwards like a high speed lift. "My ears are going 
funny!" And he smiled at me. Gosh! Bloody hellfire!

When the light came on in the sign telling us it was all right to take our 
seat-belts off, I did mine, then found his hand again, and he just looked at 
me as he squeezed my fingers. The sodding air-hostess came round with 
drinks and stuff and she looked at us holding hands and sneered, as if to 
suggest I was a brazen hussy with no morals. Up yours, I mouthed at her, 
and she looked suitably shocked. I bet she was knobbing the pilot.

"What's your name," he said, when she'd gone.

"Chauntaille. Shan for short."

"Nice. French?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your name. French?"

"An old family name, apparently. What's yours?"

"Villiers. Villiers Strongitharm."

"Gosh!"

Well, it turned out he was even staying at the same hotel as myself and 
the rest of the St Cat's party, so we would probably see more of each other. 
But we were on our way down; and the aircraft was making horrible 
moaning noises as bits of the wings rebuilt themselves outside the window, 
and it kept going thump, thump, thump, and the ground came up to meet 
us at hundreds of miles an hour; before he got around to asking what I was 
doing for dinner. And afterwards? He didn't ask about afterwards, and nor 
did I, but I was certainly thinking it. I suppose Villiers was, too.

I hoped so, anyway.





Part II





Chapter 4:- The Growing Girls Of The Fourth Form


"I'll see you later, when I get back to the hotel," called Villiers, as he closed 
the cab door. I saw him waving from the curb as the driver pulled away 
into the traffic. Golly! Fancy meeting an absolute dish like him on the 
plane. Just wait 'til I tell Moggie. 

But when I saw her, the moment wasn't right. She seemed preoccupied, 
somehow. "Did you get all the sizes I asked you for?" she said as the lift 
door slid shut. I nodded in confirmation as the floor pushed up against my 
feet. The door opened again, and we stepped out. "Here we are. You're 
down the end of this passage. Dump your gear, then come along to 412 
with the bras and blouses. I'll give the first of the girls a call to come to my 
room."

"They grew suddenly last night, all five of them." Moggie paced up and 
down, the way she does when she's going through one of her crises. "Daisy 
Buttermilk called me in the middle of the night, she said she and her 
room-mate were ill. But when I went along to their room, I saw straight 
away what it was. The other three called me in the morning. They're 
sharing a room, too, and they didn't dare come down to breakfast."

"They're all Fourth Form Girls?"

"Yes. All five of them. There are six Fourth Formers in the party, and five 
are affected. The only one who hasn't grown is the middle of the three 
Ephinstone girls, Xanthe. She was easily the biggest in the class anyway. 
She's ranked number six now!"

"Wow! The others are as big as that?"

"You've got the list of bra sizes I asked for?"

"I know, but it's hard to visualise. You mean they're *all* bigger than 
Xanthe?"

"You wait until you see them. I felt like weeping when I saw them trying 
to get into their school blouses. They are immense. Whoever made up that 
batch of boob-juice certainly didn't skimp." There was a quiet knock on the 
door. "Come in, Daisy!"

The door opened and a short girl came in, shrouded in a capacious dressing 
gown. "I brought Steph with me, is that all right? Hi, Miss," she said to me.

A taller girl followed Daisy into the room, also wrapped in a dressing gown.

"I managed to borrow dressing gowns for all of them from the hotel. No 
questions asked. Even so ..."

I could see what she meant. The dressing gowns were an extremely large 
size. Daisy's was probably meant to be a shortie length man's size, but it 
came down to her ankles. Where it was wrapped around her bust, it was 
gaping under the pressure of its contents. Stephanie Thundersley's was the 
same, although it was as well she was considerably taller than Daisy, 
otherwise the full-length garment would have tripped her up. I consulted 
my list. By a coincidence, the two girls had originally had the same 
measurements, although Steph was five feet ten, and Daisy was a foot 
shorter.

"You first, Daisy," said Moggie, and the stocky little girl opened her 
dressing gown and dropped it on the bed. I gulped. I could see what 
Moggie had meant by immense. It was probably the ideal word. Daisy's 
breasts swelled out magnificently from her rib-cage, with a tight cleavage 
between them. They protruded to the sides far wider than her arms, and 
more than a foot in front of her.

"I hope you brought a long tape, Shan," said Moggie. I had, although there 
was strictly no need to measure the victims, provided we could find a 
ScatBra to fit them. A quick swish round with the tape, though, confirmed 
that Daisy was at least seventy-five inches, without using the table top 
method. Meanwhile, Stephanie, in response to a signal from Moggie, also 
stripped off her dressing gown and stood waiting.

"Try this," I said to Daisy, handing her a SBMMLMCW2 from my bag. "Let's 
have a look at you, Steph." She was rather more pendulous than Daisy, 
more like I used to be, I thought, although I had never remotely 
approached her size in the Fourth Form. Her breasts swung heavily around 
her crotch, hiding her knickers. No way of measuring those things, I 
thought, and fished out a SBSMLMCW6 for her.

Moggie helped them with the adjustment process, and in a few minutes, 
both girls stood up straight and admired each other with big grins on their 
faces. "That feels lovely, Miss," said Stephanie. "It really holds me up. I 
could hardly walk with them hanging right down there."

"Here!" I handed them a blouse each. Despite their radically different 
shape, the two were now the same size. In seconds, they were buttoning 
their blouses, beaming at each other.

"Long ties," I dug into my bag, "one each. You'll look marvellous."

"Daisy's in the front row, Steph's at the back," said Moggie. "We'll have to 
make adjustments to the positions when the whole choir is together in the 
hall tomorrow. Okay, girls. Go and get yourselves ready for dinner. We'll 
see you downstairs at seven." The girls went out, chattering.

"It's a funny thing," I mused, as Moggie called the other three girls and put 
the phone down. "They always seem really over the moon once they get 
their ScatBras on. It always seems to make them happy, somehow. Never 
fails!"

"I don't know about the next three. Those two were the easy ones."

I scanned my list again. "Vulva Morgenstern, she's got a tremendous 
figure, like an exotic dancer. Charlotte Chubb, a big girl. But Anna-Maria? 
Surely not?"

"You'll see!" Moggie shook her head. "Anna-Maria Oxberry isn't the way 
you remember her. Try not to stare at them, Shan!"

Fat chance of that! The door opened, and three heavily-muffled figures 
came in. Vulva had been one of the candidates for Smegs's study group 
which was doing the 'Gigantomastia Down The Ages' project. As she threw 
her dressing gown behind her, I could see she was going to have to drop 
out of the project altogether, which wasn't going to please Smegs in the 
slightest. Vulva's breasts, formerly a massive gravity-defying forty-eight 
inches, were still defying gravity, but it was becoming a losing battle. The 
tape suggested a SBSMLLCW4.

Another victory for the Scatbra! Vulva had hers adjusted, up and running 
within seconds, and she pranced around the bedroom while I was fitting 
Charlotte.

Charlotte was another SM body-band girl, but her breasts were smaller 
than any of the others so far. "A SBSMMSCW1 seems to be indicated," I told 
her, and left her struggling with the velcro as I turned my attention to 
Anna-Maria. She sat on the bed, not taking off her dressing gown.

"Come on, Anna-Maria," Moggie urged her gently.

The girl shook her head. "Don't want to, Miss."

I managed to catch Vulva's eye, and inclined my head toward the door. She 
nodded.

"C'mon, Char," she said. "Let's go and get ready for din-dins. See ya later, 
Annie!" They went out, clutching their dressing gowns and long ties.

Moggie looked at me and shrugged. "Would you like *me* to leave, Anna-
Maria?" she said.

"No, stay, Miss Thunderbolt. I'll ... take my ..." Quickly, before she could 
change her mind, Anna-Maria shrugged her shoulders out of the dressing 
gown, although she still sat, a hunched figure, on the bed. Moggie and I 
waited patiently. At last, with a huge effort, the girl stood up. Oh shit, I 
thought, this is ridiculous.

Anna-Maria used to have a most unusual figure. Her vital statistics were 
an eye-stopping 26-26-26. Her flat chest was offset by her tubby little 
tummy and her almost non-existent bottom and hips. Now, standing 
uncertainly in the hotel bedroom, she still had the tubby little waist. She 
did seem to have filled out slightly below the waist, although it wasn't 
very easy to see. I sat down suddenly, sweating.

"Turn round the other way, please, Annie," I suggested, "I just want to look 
at you from the back."

She turned round ponderously. That's better, I thought. Anything was 
better rather than staring at those gigantic tits. It also gave me a view of 
her bottom, which had filled out a little. It was more rounded than I'd 
noticed before, although to tell the truth, I had never before seen Anna-
Maria without her clothes. Nor, for that matter, had I ever really wished to.

Even from this angle I couldn't escape from the girl's breasts. They were 
visible on both sides of her body, from the point where they swelled out 
from her rib-cage, down to the point where they rested on her stomach, 
level with her hips. I glanced at Moggie, she was staring, too, although 
from her vantage point, she had a profile view of Anna-Maria.

"They've grown some more, Shan," Moggie quavered, in a far-away voice. 
"The bra size I gave you will be wrong. There's no way it would fit her 
now."

I rummaged in the bag and came up with the biggest bra I had brought 
with me. I don't know why I had brought it; Moggie hadn't suggested that 
any of the girls had even approached this outrageous size. Even so, it was 
going to be a tight fit. It was a SBSMXLCW6, one of the rare black ones. 
Standing up, I approached Anna-Maria from behind. She jumped when I 
touched her shoulder.

"Try this one, Annie," I said, gently. "Bend forward. Careful!" She took a 
few tottering off-balance paces across the room before I snared her in the 
gigantic bra cups. "That's the way. Arms through there, and there." I raised 
the straps over her shoulders, and fastened the long row of hooks at the 
back. "Now straighten up!" It took an effort, but she stood upright. "Now, 
you have to squeeze them. Like this."

I demonstrated on my own breasts, and she went scarlet in shame. "I can't 
do that, Miss. Not that!"

"It's the only way to adjust it, Annie. Just squeeze them. One at a time." 
Stupid. As if she could hold more than one at a time in her hands! "Shall I 
do it for you? It's just this once, for the first fitting. After that it will 
always adjust itself."

She was still blushing deeply, and tears came into her eyes. "Oh, Miss! 
What has happened? Look at them!"

"C'mon." I put an arm round her shoulder and sat her down on the bed, 
sitting beside her. "We need you to sing tomorrow. No..." She had started to 
protest that she couldn't possibly appear in public looking like this. "You 
are a vital part of the St Cat's Chorus, Annie! Your friends need you up 
there with them. A lot of them are big, too."

"Not as big as me," she sobbed. Which was perfectly true. Anna-Maria was 
impossible, there was no other word for it. Well, there was another word; 
several, in fact, but they didn't do her justice. She was the biggest-breasted 
girl in her class, Vulva Morgenstern or no Vulva Morgenstern. She posed a 
threat to the hyperdeveloped girls of the Lower Sixths. "I can't do it, Miss. 
I'm scared. I can't even walk with these things. Make them go away!"

"If I could make them go away, Annie, I would probably have made my 
own go away before now, many times. They are a pain in the arse. 
Sometimes. At others, I feel as if I've been blessed like no other woman on 
earth. Whatever else huge tits do for you, Annie, they get you all mixed up. 
But, right now, you've got them. Maybe they can take them away, when 
you're older, but it would be dangerous to try it now. All you can do is to 
make the most of them, enjoy them, swear at them when they get in your 
way, and right now ... squeeze them so your bra will fit. Go on, go for it!"

Her hands came up to her chest. She was still crying. She paused, her 
hands cupped over her left breast, the nearer one to me. She looked at me, 
her palms still not quite touching herself. I nodded, and slowly she began 
to squeeze the gossamer-soft material of the bra cup. "It feels horrible, 
Miss. It tickles. It creaks, Miss!"

"Carry on. It's only the ScatBra adjusting itself." She carried on. Her sobs 
had stopped. "Now, squeeze your other one." She looked at me again with a 
funny expression, and transferred her attention to her right breast. 
"There," I said at last. "Now, take my hand, and stand up."

I helped Anna-Maria to her feet, and immediately picked up a new blouse 
for her. "Put this on. Didn't you bring a skirt in with you?"

"It's too small, Miss. Too tight round the bottom."

"Never mind, we'll find you another. How's the bra feel?"

"It's a lot more comfortable now, thanks, Miss. It ... they don't bump 
together like they did before."

"You'll get used to them, Annie. Here's your new tie. Now, let's go and see 
one of the other girls about a spare skirt, shall we?"

I turned and looked at Moggie and we grinned at each other, as Anna-
Maria slipped her dressing gown over her shoulders and we went out into 
the passageway. "Feel okay?" I asked.

"They feel good now, Miss. Is ... is that how it feels, when a boy ... well, 
when a boy touches you, Miss?"

"When a boy touches you, Annie, it feels MILES better than that!"

"Gosh, Miss. The other girls were right, then."

"Annie. The other girls know nothing. Absolutely nothing!"

She gave me a scared little lopsided grin. "You know what made me feel 
funny, though, Miss? It was when you said 'squeeze your other one'! Not 
*the* other one. YOUR other one. I thought, they're *mine*, these things, 
nobody else's. All mine."

"Here's your room, isn't it. Let's see if Vulva has a skirt to fit you, she's got 
more clothes than anyone else in the whole of St Cat's!" We paused at the 
door. "Ready, Annie?"

"Ready, Miss!" She smiled bravely.





Chapter 5:- Big News From St Cat's 


"Wow!" I slumped into a chair in Moggie's room. "Well, I think we got away 
with it, just."

"How's Anna-Maria taking it?"

"She was trying on one of Vulva's skirts. It fitted within an inch or so. The 
others kept dropping into the room just to see her. They can't believe it."

"I'm not sure I can, either. It was good thinking, bringing that big black 
bra, Shan, you did really well."

I blushed prettily.

"Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen is getting the girls together tonight for a 
morale-boosting chat. I thought we'd be able to go out for a meal. Just the 
two of us, although you never know who we might bump into..." she 
stopped. She'd seen my face. "Oh!"

"I've got a date. I'm sorry, I didn't think. He's someone I met on the plane." 
I don't often feel sorry for Moggie, but I did now. She looked so crestfallen, 
I even thought for a second about calling Villiers and telling him 
something had come up. Only for a second, but it's the thought that counts.

"Oh, well. It would have been nice. Some other time, then."

"I am really sorry, Miss. In fact, I'd better go and have a shower and get 
ready. Got to look my best." I got up and made for the door.

"Okay, off you go, girl. Enjoy yourself. Have a lovely evening."


**********

"You look wonderful, Shan!" Villiers looked at me, shaking his head in what 
I could only assume was disbelief.

I had put on my posh frock. I had meant it for the contest the following 
night, but it would have to do for tonight as well. It showed a bit too much 
cleavage, really, so I wore my little jacket over the top. Even so, there must 
have been a couple of feet of breast showing at the neckline. People in the 
hotel foyer were staring at me. I'm used to that being stared at now but, 
even so, I don't normally appear in public showing quite as much tit as 
this.

"Where are we going?"

"You fancy Italian? I know this little place, I thought you might prefer 
somewhere quiet..."

"Thanks, I would. People do tend to stare rather ..."

"If you catch me staring, just snap your fingers, and I'll try to remember 
my manners. Here's the taxi." And he helped me into the black cab, then 
climbed in after me. My left breast became squashed between our bodies, 
and I had to heave it out of the way. "Sorry!" We both said it.

"Not your fault! It happens all the time."


**********

I've never been short of appetite, not for food, nor anything else. We ate 
until we both felt stuffed, then slumped across the table, gazing into each 
other's eyes and sipping our coffee.

"Were those your girls in the hotel? Blazers with big badges on the 
pockets?"

"That sounds like them. Except for one thing that you didn't mention, since 
you were being ultra-polite."

"Ah, you mean their ...?"

"Yes, their ...!"

"It's weird. I saw them in the lobby, and I'd never seen so many girls so ... 
well-developed. Some of those older ones I saw were simply enormous! 
And then there's the old girl, the headmistress? And there's you, of course! 
What's the story, Shan?"

I placed my hand on his across the table. "I don't know if you'd believe it if 
I told you. If I said that some of those girls are entirely natural, would you 
believe me?"

"If you say so, Shan."

"And some of us aren't."

"Some of *us*? You mean, they're ... *you're* enhanced in some way? 
Silicone? Saline? Why?"

"Not implants, dear. And not really intentional in some cases. Mine, for 
instance, were the result of an accident in the lab. It was in the papers a 
few years ago, although not the results. The papers don't print that sort of 
detail; those in the know just snigger about it amongst themselves." Villiers 
nodded. "I was fourteen. Moggie was involved as well, that's the 
headmistress. It all started with that one accident. A long story, I'll tell you 
one day."

It felt good, saying that, 'one day'! "Since then, we've had some other 
chemically enhanced, or contaminated girls. Look, you won't tell anyone, 
will you? We had some girls grow last night. Five of the Fourth Formers 
grew."

"Grew? Come on, Shan! Girls don't grow overnight."

"Ours do. They did."

"You mean, they started developing overnight, and suddenly they needed 
to wear a bra ...? I could believe that, just about."

"One did. Started, that is. The other four were already far bigger than 
average already. They're enormous now. And the one who started off with 
no boobs at all is the biggest of the five!"

"I don't know about bra sizes and stuff. D cups and stuff. How big are you 
talking about? What do you call big, huge, enormous?"

"You can forget D cups and stuff at St Cat's! I'm a 120-inch bust." He 
gasped. "Another of the big girls in the Sixth Form is the same size. There 
are a good few in the nineties. Anna-Maria, the undeveloped one who grew 
last night, she's well over eighty inches now!"

"Hold it! Overnight? I'm sorry, Shan. I can't believe that. I can hardly 
believe *you*; and *you're* sitting there across the table and I can see 
down your cleavage almost to your knees. But then you tell me a schoolgirl 
has grown from nothing to eighty inches overnight? Can you blame me if I 
can't take it all in?"

"I think you're doing quite well to take in any of it at all. Would you 
believe the school has developed its own design of bra? Self-adjusting, in a 
whole range of sizes. We're the real thing, Villiers. Why should we bother 
to fake such a thing anyway? What possible reason could there be?"

"Sorry. It's such a lot to take in, that's all. I ought to believe it. I had one of 
your breasts land in my lap on a plane. I've felt it. It felt real enough!"

"I'm real, Villiers. We all are. So's the ScatBra. But I can't show you in 
here." Was that a subtle enough hint, I wondered.

Apparently it was. He signalled for the bill. Five minutes later, we were in 
a cab, squashed together in the back, swishing back through the wet 
streets to the hotel.

"It's only half-past ten. Would you like to come up for a cup of coffee," I 
asked him.

"Coffee keeps you awake," he said.

"Hot chocolate, then, if you want to sleep."

We didn't want to sleep. Neither of us. 

Well, Villiers had to believe my breasts after that night. He had to believe 
a few more of my other memorable size statistics, as well. He was a super 
lover, once he got used to the sheer scale of everything. I don't like to 
compare lovers, though. They're all different, and all wonderful, in their 
way. Or maybe I've just been lucky in my selection.


**********

Sorry about that. The equivalent of a row of little dots ...

I called Smegs in the morning. I knew she'd be grumpy, she always was 
just after getting out of bed.

"What are you so happy about, you just been laid or something?"

"Smegs, how did you guess?"

"Not ...?"

"No-one you know. I met him on the plane."

"You didn't join the Seven-Mile High Club? You are getting worse, Shan! 
This is the nineteen-nineties. You can't go sleeping with every Tom, Dick 
and Harry."

"Wrong on all three. His name's Villiers Strongitharm."

"Bloody Hell!"

"And he's fantastic. Anyway, how's things?"

"So-so. You've only been away one night. The old place isn't about to grind 
to a halt. Although we did have a bit of an accident in the lab."

"An accident ...? Oh, no, Smegs! What's happened?"

"A girl has grown a bit. Nothing terrible. I mean, she's pretty big, but she's 
all right. I've seen worse. And she's taking it well. She's quite pleased with 
them, in fact. All thing considered. Most girls wouldn't want quite such big 
ones as that, but she seems very well adjusted to the idea. Mind you, she 
says her mother's going to kill her ..."

"Smegs. Who is it?"

"She's probably exaggerating. Mothers rarely kill their own daughters just 
because they've grown big tits. Well, enormous tits. No, make that gigantic 
tits!"

"Who, Smegs?"

"Actually, not gigantic, either. What comes next after gigantic?"

"Colossal? Who is it, Megan!"

"Colossal, that's a good word. It reminds you of her straddling the waters. 
In fact, how about immense? Or gargantuan? Is that bigger than colossal?"

"I suppose it would be, yes."

"Make her gargantuan, then. Or maybe Brobdingnagian."

"WHO IS IT, MEGAN?"

"OOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo"

You know how in films, whenever the line goes dead, people always rattle 
the receiver and shout 'Hello, hello?' into the mouthpiece? I always 
thought how stupid that was. So why did I do it myself?


**********

I didn't call Smegs back, because the phone rang again. It was Villiers, 
calling from his room.

"Hello, you," he said, and I felt my spleen do several somersaults.

"Oh, hello. Long time no see ..."

"Darling. I have to go to the concert hall immediately after breakfast. Do 
you want to come with me?"

"That would be lovely, thank you. What time, nine o' clock?"

"In the lobby. Bye!"

I uttered a sort of howl like a lone wolf. Why couldn't he come in here and 
service my steaming loins for me, instead of phoning from forty yards 
away? And I'd been ever such a good girl ever since I had kissed him bye-
bye and sent him off to his room. I had showered and dried my hair and 
only wanked once. Well, now it was twice.

Moggie waved to me as I wandered into the dining room for breakfast. 
Here and there were ordinary hotel guests, and as I came in, I saw them 
nudging each other as if to say 'look, there's another one'. The St Cat's girls 
were at two large tables in the centre of the room, wolfing porridge, eggs 
and bacon in a bedlam atmosphere.

"Morning, Miss," several of them greeted me, with knowing glances. What 
did they know about last night, I wondered. Had I made as much noise as 
that? I know, I do tend to scream and howl a bit, but surely they hadn't 
been able to hear me, had they?

Moggie was sitting alone. She patted the seat next to her and I sat down 
with a glass of whole orange juice. "Is that all you're having?" she said.

I looked at her laden plate: scrambled eggs on toast with tomatoes and 
mushrooms, bacon, sausages, black pudding, beans and hash browns. "I 
think so," I said. "I'll have some toast later."

"You need to eat, keep your strength up. You must have used up a lot of 
energy last night."

"Must I?"

Moggie paused with her fork halfway to her mouth and grinned, "Do what? 
We could hear you all over the hotel. It was really embarrassing. The girls 
were making excuses to go past your door and listen. I had to speak 
sharply to them. So, his name's Villiers, is it? Unusual!" 

I looked around the spacious dining room. People looked away guiltily and 
hurriedly as they caught my eye. One or two were giggling. Some of the St 
Cat's girls were staring at me, but with a sort of school pride. As they 
finished their meal and got up from the table to leave the room, each of 
them in turn seemed to take a huge breath and move past the startled 
watchers like a ship under full sail.

"I spoke to Megan this morning," I said.

"Oh, how's she getting on?"

"They've had an accident in the lab. Another girl has grown."

"Another. Which one? How big?"

"I don't know. She didn't want to break it to me, and she took so long 
getting around to it, we were cut off. But huge. No, not huge. Gigantic? No, 
not that either."

"Colossal?"

"Gargantuan. Or even Brobdingnagian."

"That's big, Shan!"

"I know. I wish she'd told me who it was.

"I'll call her later. She'll have to tell me. I'll threaten her with something. 
Anyway, you on for a quick troll round the shops this morning?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! I promised Villiers I'd go with him to the concert hall after 
breakfast. I'm helping him work out a few shots."

"Oh!"

"I'm sorry, Miss!" I stood up. "Is *that* the time? I've got to have a shit and 
get cleaned up before nine!"

"I see." Moggie pushed away her toast and marmalade. "You'd better rush, 
then, dear. Go and have your ... go and get ready. See you lunchtime at the 
hall?"

"See you then. Must dash ...!"

I almost left it too late. I nearly did it in the lift, hopping around and 
trying not to fart in case I had a major accident. And my key nearly 
wouldn't work when I shoved it in the door. I sat down just in time. Must 
have been something I'd eaten the night before.

The chambermaid came to do the room when I was on my way out again. I 
felt a bit sorry for her, but I suppose they get used to that sort of thing. 
You must do if you clean lavatories for a living.





Chapter 6:- The St Cat's Chorus


"What time are the choir coming down to the hall," asked Villiers in the 
cab.

I took my face out of his groin and said, "in half an hour or so. Miss Rhys 
ap Llewelyn Owen is bringing them down to see about their positions on 
the stage. With the five girls growing, we'll need to move one or two of 
them around, to stop us looking lopsided. Will it be too blatant if we put 
our biggest girls in the middle, at the front, do you think?"

"I haven't seen them all, but I would think you'd have to. Shan, are you 
listening?"

"It's all right, I can hear every word from down here."

Villiers shuddered. "Wow, do that again! Yessss!"

"You mean, that ...?"

"Yes, that. The choir will look more symmetrical with your biggest breasts 
in the middle. The tallest girls will still be at the back. That might be a 
problem, if you have any big-breasted girls who happen to be tall as well. 
But your Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen will be able to sort that out this 
morning. Ooooh! Oooh! Ah! CHAUNTAILLE!"

"Villiers! Glp. Mnglpmnph!"

I knew I'd get my appetite back after a while. I sucked him clean and put 
everything away. A casual observer getting into the cab now would hardly 
notice anything unusual. We kissed deeply and enthusiastically for the rest 
of the journey. The cab had been stationary for several minutes when we 
came up for air.

"Gosh, we're here already," I said.

Villiers paid the driver, who drove off to tell his mates all about his latest 
experience. "Why-aye, man, tits oot here! And down here! Biggest pair I've 
ever seen in me life. Foockin' incredible. And she's sucked this blurke off. 
At nine o' clock in the mornin'! Swallered the lot, too, norra drop on me 
back seat."

The trouble was, I'd got the screaming hots, now. We went into the hall, 
and up in the balcony, with Villiers looking for camera angles and me 
looking for somewhere to get myself thoroughly porked. I'm a pretty 
determined girl when I'm horny, and I had to have my way with him. It 
was half-past nine, so I'd lasted nearly half an hour since inhaling his dick 
in the cab.

"C'mon, we've got to go somewhere, or I'll BURST!" I said, trying not to 
sound too eager. I literally dragged him out, down the stairs, out of the 
front doors and into a passing taxi.

"St James's Park!" shouted Villiers, and we set off, weaving through the 
traffic. Within twenty yards, I was slithering down his greasy pole until I 
bottomed out with a soft thump. Within another hundred yards I was 
coming, every bit as loud as last night. We arrived at our destination, and 
Villiers gave the driver further instructions. With perfect timing, my lover 
reached a noisy climax at exactly the same moment as I did; not for the 
first time, nor even the fourth.

There was a brief delay while we adjusted our dress before leaving the 
cab.

"D'yer want us to hang on for yer here, in case yer want us again?" said the 
driver. I wondered what had been the odds against getting the same taxi 
twice in the same morning. Villiers gave the man a fiver.

"Keep the change," he said.

The driver held the note up to the light. "It was worth every penny, was it, 
pal? Shit, man, I was thinkin' of paying YOU!"


**********

"They're here, look. That's our girls on the stage now."

They were. In their familiar shallow horseshoe formation, the St Cat's 
Chorus was arranged on the stage in front of the open-mouthed stares of 
everyone in the hall; the members of the other choirs, the television 
technicians, the production assistants with their clip-boards and the 
innumerable hangers-on. Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen was moving girls 
around, pushing them here, pulling them there.

At one point, she seemed to have them arranged to her liking, when Daisy 
Buttermilk complained loudly from the front row that it was no use.

"It's no use, Miss Owen. I can't sing with Stephanie standing behind me. 
Look!" 

Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen looked. Stephanie's exaggerated breasts 
rested one on each of Daisy's shoulders, squashed against her ears. The 
poor girl couldn't hear a word anyone in the choir was singing. Miss Rhys 
ap Llewelyn Owen had to move half the choir before she found a girl with 
small enough breasts to stand behind Daisy. By the time she'd finished and 
told the choir to remember their new positions, the hall was hushed into 
an awestruck silence.

The girls filed off, wobbling and bouncing, to be replaced by a mixed choir 
from a school in Essex.

"I wonder where my camera crew has got to," fretted Villiers. "I was due 
to meet them at ten."

"You remember what we were doing at ten, darling," I reminded him, 
fondly. I was getting soaked again, just recalling it myself.


**********

Villiers's camera crew was at that moment in the wings, viewing the St 
Cat's Chorus at close quarters. Resourceful lads; Martin, the cameraman, 
and Bob, the sound recordist, had decided, in the absence of Villiers, to go 
backstage and check out one or two angles for themselves. 

"Will you get a load of these kids," Martin marvelled, dribbling slightly.

Everywhere they looked, the crew seemed to be engulfed in a sea of tit. 
The girls were dressed in crisp white blouses, their extra-length school ties 
jutting horizontally in front of them. In their position on the stage, the 
choir gave an impression of massive uniformity. It was only in the wings, 
with the girls milling around independently, that Martin and Bob realised 
that the girls were neither superhuman beings, nor giantesses, they were 
mostly less than five feet three or four. Viewed thus, from above, the 
impression of all that jutting breast was even more impressive. You 
couldn't see the floor.

"Hello," husked one of the girls to Martin, her eyes big and round, like 
pools of blue water shining out of a halo of rich dark hair. "Are you from 
television?"

Martin's knees melted. So did Bob's, and she hadn't even spoken to him. 
The blue-eyed girl was joined by another, with green eyes. The camera 
crew were concentrating hard on the girls' eyes. It was the only way to 
remain sane.

"What was the question again?" blurted Martin vaguely.

Blue-eyes laughed musically. "Watch my lips, sir" she purred, and both 
men did. Her lips were full and soft, slightly moist. Her tongue peeped out 
between them for an instant, then disappeared from view again. "Are you 
from television?"

"Not to do with tonight's broadcast, no," said Bob, "we're doing a 
programme for later in the year. Interviews with the choirs, the individual 
members, that sort of thing."

"He's sound, I'm camera," said Martin, and the two girls gazed at them in 
fascination.

"What are your names?" Green-eyes had dark red hair that gleamed 
twenty different colours in the lights filtering through from the stage. "I'm 
Gudrun, and this is Pubella."

"What lovely names," said Martin, and he introduced himself and Bob.

"Is there anywhere quieter we could talk?" murmured blue-eyed Pubella. 
"There's something we wanted to ask you."

"Sure, let's go over there, that door leads to the dressing rooms, I believe." 
Martin led the way, and the others followed, the two girls grinning at one 
another in excitement. It was quieter once they had gone through the door 
and closed it behind them.

"Gosh, let's all go in here," gasped Gudrun, opening a dressing room door. 
They were in a cluttered room with light bulbs all round the dressing table 
mirror. She sat down and looked at herself, appearing pleased at what she 
saw.

"You know I asked about television," twittered Pubella, her hands behind 
her back like a little girl. She rotated the top half of  herself slightly from 
side to side. The innocent effect was only slightly marred by the fact that 
she had an eighty-five inch bust. "We were wondering if you could help us 
do something. A little project?"

Martin and Bob stared at the girl. Now that there was a little more space, 
they were able to obtain the full effect of the girls' appearance. Apart from 
their vast breasts, both girls were almost absurdly slim. Pubella's breasts 
were slightly the larger of the two, and her waist and hips were a couple of 
inches smaller, but the difference was quite immaterial.

"You're not listening again, are you?" Gudrun had turned round in her chair 
and looked up at the two men. At some stage, she had loosened her tie and 
undone a couple of buttons of her blouse. Acres of creamy cleavage peeped 
out of the gap. She stood up and moved to Pubella's side. "Concentrate, 
boys. Make them concentrate, Pubes!"

"Do as Goodie says," said Pubes, silkily, and Martin and Bob felt the girls' 
breasts pressing against them both at the same time. A nice trick if you 
can do it, as they were standing three feet apart.

"How old are you," asked Martin hoarsely, in a desperate voice.

"Sixteen! It's all right!" Goodie looked up into his eyes. She wasn't quite as 
tall as Pubes. "We're in the Lower Sixth at St Cat's." 

"And we've got this project." Pubella's eyes gleamed. "We want to make a 
little film."

"About girls' breasts getting bigger," elaborated Goodie. She rubbed her 
nipples against Bob's stomach, or slightly lower down.

"Oh, my God!" groaned Bob. "Am I hearing this?"

"You certainly are!" Goodie loosened her tie still further and her long nails 
toyed with another button. "Look," she whispered, and ran her nails down 
into the yawning gulf between her breasts. They looked. "They're sooooo 
big, aren't they!"

"Yes!" 

"And Pubie's are even bigger than mine. And she's ever so much slimmer. 
I get jealous just watching her undress every night. But some of the 
younger girls grew the other night. And they're nearly as big as us now."

"And that gave us an idea for our film," said Pubella. "We could actually 
follow a girl around at school, every morning for a month, or something, 
and keep a constant record of her breasts getting bigger ..."

"... and bigger ..."

"... and bigger ...!"

"But ...!"

Bob found the words that had just escaped Martin. "But girls' breasts don't 
get bigger every day for a month. How are we going to show that? The 
special effects would cost a fortune."

"No special effects. We provide the girl. And we can guarantee she'll grow, 
can't we, Pubes?"

"Oooh, yes, no problem, she'll grow, all right!"

"She will?" Martin had regained his powers of speech. "You can guarantee 
it?"

"How big?" Bob was of a practical nature.

"That's hard to say," said Goodie, regretfully. "Sometimes it's difficult to 
know when they're going to stop. Look at us. Seven feet round!"

"One of our girls, the one in the middle of the front row, she's ten feet. She 
might even be more, but the teacher did the measurements, and I think 
the teacher didn't want the Countess to be bigger than her!"

"She's a Countess? A real live Countess?"

"Of course!" snorted Gudrun. "Why shouldn't she be?"

"Oh, no reason", said Bob.

"Will you help us, then. Please?" Gudrun released another button and the 
top of a lurid yellow bra cup peeped into view.

"When can we start?" said Martin.

The girls were suddenly all business. From the depths of her clothing, 
Pubella produced a thick wad of typed papers. They were slightly 
crumpled and had come from somewhere extremely warm.

"Sign there," she said, "and down there!"

Martin and Bob did as they were told.

"Excellent," said Pubella, reaching her arms around Martin's neck and 
squashing her gigantic breasts against his stomach. The same thing was 
happening to Bob.

"There!" Gudrun sighed in satisfaction. "Sealed with a kiss. Here, in case we 
don't see much more of each other later today, here's our phone number. 
St Cat's Academy for the Performing Arts."


**********

We spotted the four of them emerging from the dressing room corridor as 
soon as we came backstage.

Villiers called over to the crew. "Martin! Hi, over here!" he waved over the 
heads of the crowd, which was now made up of St Cat's girls and a 
sprinkling of curious singers from a boys' school somewhere. Liaisons were 
being formed as the confident and ever-lustful girls of St Cat's made their 
selections and homed in. Spectacular breasts were being aimed at helpless 
victims. They were falling like flies.

Martin and Bob made their way over, trailing the busty Sixth Formers in 
their wake.

"Hi, Villiers," said Martin. "Must have missed you earlier on, looked for you 
all over. We've been taking a look backstage. A couple of the girls have 
been helping us." He turned to them. "Goodie and Pubes," he said, 
indicating them with a finger in turn.

"Hi, Miss, hello Mr Villiers," the girls twittered a little, seeing my lover in 
full close-up for the first time. In their turn, Martin and Bob were trying 
not to stare at me.

"Sorry, Shan, these are my crew, two total reprobates, Martin and Bob! 
Chauntaille teaches at St Cat's."

We all shook hands. I wondered what evil plot the Sixth Form girls had 
been hatching with the camera crew. They were fast workers, these two 
girls.

The film-makers went into a huddle and I drifted away to mingle with the 
choir. They seemed in high spirits, although Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, 
when I found her, seemed worried. I asked her what was the matter.

"It's the television people. I think our girls are a bit much for them, you 
know? I heard them talking about angles to 'soften the impact' they were 
calling it. No close-ups unless it's just faces. No profile shots, no low angle 
stuff, nothing from above ..."

"That doesn't leave a lot, does it?"

"Not really. But they can't show a blank screen while we're singing. They'll 
have to show something. And wherever they point their cameras, there'll 
be girls' boosoms!"

That's how she said the word, 'boosoms'. I'd never heard it said like that 
before. It sounded rude. Then the word 'rude' made me think of love-
making again. I caught Villiers's eye across the room and my liver went 
walkabout. A shag was becoming a matter of some immediacy. It had been 
nearly two hours. If we didn't do it soon, it was going to be midday, and 
the crew was going to be shooting all afternoon, doing talking heads and 
in-depth interviews of singers and choral directors. Would there be a 
chance at lunchtime? We could do it in a taxi again, perhaps. It was quite 
exhilarating last time. We might even get the same taxi driver. It would 
make his day for sure.

I made my apologies to Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen and edged away 
across the room. I don't like crowds, they collide with my breasts all the 
time, but as I moved in the direction of Villiers, the crush melted away 
ahead of me like the parting of the waters. Spotty-faced boys, gawping at 
the cultured, polished and vast-breasted St Cat's girls, looked at me in my 
enormous shirt, looked away, then back again as I swayed past them.

Respectful voices wished me a good morning and called me 'Miss', I 
greeted all the girls by name, and they giggled at each other, basking in 
the glory reflected from my glowing, pulsating feminity.

"Is that your teacher?"

Time and again I heard boys whispering that question to the girls.

"That's Miss Gruntworthy," I heard the reply. "She's brilliant!"

"Hi, Shan," smiled Villiers. "Ready for a spot of lunch?"

Gudrun and Pubella were still attached to the camera crew, and they 
looked anxiously at me. "Ready any time, Villiers. I'd just like a quick word 
with these two ..." and before anyone could object, I bore them away to the 
side of the room.

"What are you two plotting between you?" I demanded. The two girls went 
red.

"Just a project we wanted some help with," squeaked Pubella. "We were 
asking Martin and Bob for some tips on making a film. They've offered to 
help in their spare time."

"What's the film about?"

"It's for a project, Miss."

"You already told me that. What's it about?"

"Just the school, Miss. Like a day in the life of a typical student at St Cat's, 
that's all." Pubella tried to look innocent, not easy with her eyes.

"I'll be keeping an eye on you two. Are you staying here for lunch with the 
choir?"

"Yes, Miss. Martin and Bob are coming as well. You can be alone with Mr 
Villiers, Miss." Gudrun smirked cheekily at me. I was so relieved and - for 
that matter - horny, I grinned back.

"Enjoy your lunch, Miss," said Pubella.





Part III





Chapter 7:- Big Performance


"Who were those two girls?" Villiers handed me one of the last two 
sandwiches and took the other one himself. We were sitting on a park 
bench in the wintry sunshine. Seagulls swooped around our heads like the 
big scene from "The Birds".

"Both in the Lower Sixths," I spluttered through a mouthful of Bacon, 
Lettuce and Tomato. "They all grew at the same time a few years ago, in 
the Juniors. Those two were in the Junior Drama Group, if I recall. Pubella 
Stravinsky, she's the bigger, slimmer one; Gudrun Axelschaft is the one 
with the reddish hair. That's not her proper colour, she had it done by the 
hairdresser."

"They certainly made an impression on the crew."

"All St Cat's girls make an impression on people. It's the way they ooze 
confidence!"

"Is that what you keep oozing all the time, Shan, confidence?"

"No, that's mostly love-juice," I drooled, oozing a few more gallons. I 
finished my sandwich and wriggled on to Villiers's lap.

"We can't do it here," he gasped, horror-struck. "Out in the open!"

"Why not? Where I come from, they do it on the village green. And nobody 
seems to take any notice."

"But this is Newcastle-upon-Tyne, not ... wherever."

"Fillamore Deepleigh. I'm not wearing any knickers, Villiers. You could slip 
straight into me. I'm so big it would be like a funnel, you could hardly 
miss."

"Chauntaille!"

"Oooh, I love it when you call me that. It's my being-a-naughty-girl name! 
It feels like I'm being chastised. Or spanked."

"Oh, no, you're not into spanking as well as all this other stuff, are you?"

"A little bit," I admitted, blushing. "I didn't even know until a couple of 
weeks ago, then one of the girls in the Third Form gave me a really good 
spanking, and I found I quite enjoyed it. I fully deserved it. I was a 
dreadfully naughty girl."

"Bloody Hell, Shan, you are totally beyond redemption."

"I hope so, darling!"

We almost did it there and then, but a little old lady came up and sat on 
the bench next to Villiers, and insisted on holding a conversation. They're 
so friendly in the North East.

I was still game to carry on, but Villiers didn't seem to be able to sustain 
himself. I whispered in his ear that I would slide off his lap and leave him 
fully exposed, and he wilted even further and slipped out anyway, but I 
stayed where I was until the clock struck one, and the old dear got into a 
tizzy and rushed off.

"I believe you would have climbed off and left me with my prick waving 
in the breeze, you horrible little girl!"

"And have you arrested? I need you around for later, darling, not locked 
up in jail. C'mon then. Nobody's watching, I'll get off and you can put 
yourself away." So I did. "Hey!" I pointed up at a lamp post across the 
footpath. "Isn't that one of those security television cameras up there...?"

He nearly did himself a serious injury with his zipper. Which would have 
served me right, I suppose.


**********

I joined Moggie in the audience. "They look fantastic, don't they?" The St 
Cat's Chorus were arrayed in their horseshoe formation, breasts aimed 
inwards. They presented a solid unbroken wall of titty as we looked at 
them from the front row. The auditorium, crammed with members of the 
other choirs, was hushed as our brave girls took a deep breath and opened 
their mouths wide for the first note.

At least half a dozen blouse buttons were rolling across the stage in the 
silence, but it takes more than that to divert a St Cat's girl. Their voices 
mingled sweetly and soared to the very rafters of the concert hall. I 
couldn't tell you what they were singing, I'm tone-deaf as a ... what is it? 
Not a post, or a stone? I am tone deaf. But even to my tin ear, it sounded 
wonderful. It brought tingles to the short hairs on the back of my neck. I 
came, liberally.

"Did you come just then?" Moggie accused me.

"A little bit," I confessed, ashamed.

"Try to keep it a little quieter, the judges could hardly hear the girls 
singing."

Was I as loud as that? I looked around at the audience, many of whom 
were staring straight at me. My cheeks were on fire as I faced the front 
again. At last, the song came to an end, and the applause was deafening.

"We'll walk it if the applause is anything to go by," whispered Moggie. Just 
then, Martin and Bob crept past in front of our feet, filming the audience 
reaction. I gave it some extra loud clapping and leaned forward to reveal 
another nine inches of cleavage.

That was the first round over, and the preliminary results were 
announced. St Cat's had gone into the finals, the last four choirs. The girls 
shrieked and wet themselves in ecstasy. Now St Cat's was into the 
evening's entertainment: the live contest in front of the television cameras.

The girls gathered round Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen in one corner of the 
auditorium. Three further groups could be seen in other parts of the hall, 
all receiving last-minute briefings. There was a boy's choir; another girls' 
choir, strangely and depressingly flat-chested girls in brown gymslips; and 
a mixed choir who were our chief rivals.

I could see Villiers with the brown gymslip girls, doing an interview with 
the teacher in charge. Martin was hunched behind the tripod with his 
massive camera. Bob, holding in one hand a microphone on a long pole, 
twiddled the controls of the recorder with his other hand; lost in a world of 
his own inside his headphones.

Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen was into her speech. "Forget Mountebank 
High, they are nothing. Forget Our Lady of Macclesfield. They suck! What 
do they do?"

"They SUCK, Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen!" The other choirs stared.

"The only ones we have to worry about are Sir Geoffrey Boycott's Grammar 
School. Mixed choirs have so much more fullness, roundness ..."

"We're fuller and rounder than them, Miss," shouted a voice, probably 
Pubella's, and the rest of the girls laughed. Nervously, perhaps, but we 
were the only choir doing any laughing. The other choirs looked in our 
direction in undiluted envy.

"Now, then," Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen was winding up for her big 
ending, "here's what I want you to do. While you're performing, remember 
our trick of choosing a member of the audience and singing to him, or her? 
This time, choose one of the judges. Sing to himmm. Make love to 
himmmm. Or her, if you're that way inclined. Make them cummmmm!"

"Oh, Miss!" Shocked voices gasped and girls nudged each other. "Ooooh, 
MISS!"


**********

Our turn came to be interviewed. I felt my insides turn to jelly as Villiers 
smiled at me. Then he was interviewing Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, 
whose Welsh accent became even more lyrical as she described the work 
of the choir, the hours of practice they put in every single day, the 
abstension from the pleasures of the flesh.

"We'll probably cut that piece out," Villiers confided as Miss Rhys ap 
Llewelyn Owen went back to the girls and Martin aimed the lens at 
Moggie.

"A bit lower and wider, I think, Mar, make sure it's a half-length shot." 
Martin ended up on his knees peering into the viewfinder. Moggie must 
have looked really impressive from that angle, even with only an eighty 
inch bust. She had to lean forward so the camera could see past it to her 
face.

Villiers even interviewed me. "What is your favourite piece from the 
choir's repertoire?" he asked.

They all sounded the same to me. I dredged the brain cells for the title of a 
piece of music, any piece of music. "God Save The Queen," I offered, 
hopefully. There was a sniggering noise, followed by stifled splutters.

"Cut it!"

"Sorry," snorted Bob, tears running down his face. "My fault. Go again when 
you're ready, Villy."


**********

The time was approaching. I slipped into an empty dressing room, and 
with a little help from Villiers, changed into my posh frock for the evening. 
Even backstage, you could feel the tension in the building. Perhaps, a 
thought occurred to me, I had a career awaiting me on the stage, in 
entertainment. Not a singing role, maybe, but something more suited to a 
serious and singularly attractive girl with truly mountainous breasts.

The  hall was buzzing. Every seat was filled, with brightly-hued school 
dresses, smart blazers, eager faces. With the choirs eliminated in the 
afternoon session, the organisers had a captive audience, and after a huge 
meal, an enthusiastic one. St Cat's were third in the running order. Our 
chief rivals were to follow us. I found the girls at their pre-contest 
briefing.

"Third is the best spot. Late enough to be remembered, but not last. They'll 
always mark the last ones down to compensate for having just heard 
them." Good thinking, Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, I'd never have thought 
of that. 

"Please, Miss, I don't feel very well, Miss!"

"Nor do I, Miss. I feel sort of tingly, like butterflies in my chest."

"It's nerves, Daisy. Same with you, Vulva. Once you start singing, you'll be 
all right. Everyone else feel fine?"

"I'm a bit the same, Miss," put in Stephanie.

"So am I, Miss," added Charlotte.

"Me too, Miss." That was Anna-Maria, but you've already worked that out 
for yourselves, haven't you?

"You'll knock 'em dead, St Cat's! Let's give them Hell!"


**********

"They were lousy, Shan, weren't they?" Moggie was asking me? Me? The 
second choir - the brown gymslips - had just filed off the stage to polite 
clapping and well modulated hurrahs.

"They didn't *look* very inspiring," I said. She looked at me strangely. 
"Here's our lot."

St Cat's took the stage in a welter of tumultuous applause from every boy 
in the hall. It went on for several minutes, with Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn 
Owen trying to make herself heard by tapping her baton on the rostrum. 
Whistles and catcalls echoed round the auditorium, while Martin filmed 
everything in sight and boys' school teachers sternly scanned their classes 
for the culprits. At last, with the boys exhausted, the cheering died away.

I don't know what effect St Cat's Chorus had on the judges, but they 
certainly made *me* come. Or even cummmmm! The first two songs were 
received with rapture from the boy cheer-leaders. The slightly nervous 
and preoccupied expressions on the faces of five of the Fourth Form girls 
were even starting to wear off, as Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen raised her 
baton and led the girls into the third song.

"Oh, my God, Shan! Look!" Moggie pointed at Charlotte in the front row.

Simultaneously, I pointed at Stephanie and whispered, "Oh, my God, 
Moggie, Look!"

Then Moggie pointed at Vulva.

And I pointed at Daisy.

And we both pointed at Anna-Maria. As did every red-blooded young 
male in the audience, and every red-blooded girl as well. Anna-Maria's 
huge black ScatBra was adjusting itself. We could all see that quite plainly 
as, with a great rending noise, her blouse split down the side seams, both 
sides at exactly the same moment. The vast, glistening black bra cups 
swelled out to the sides, forcing Anna-Maria's arms out sideways. Her 
neighbours reacted by pushing the busty Fourth Former's arms back 
where they had come from. Her breasts reacted predictably and with great 
force, and the girls on each side of Anna-Maria staggered half a pace 
sideways away from her.

The girls to the sides of them gave a lurch, and the movement spread like 
a ripple outward along the entire front row, until it reached both ends of 
the line, and the smallest of the girls, who were sent flying sideways, 
disappearing into the wings. I was reminded of one of those executive toys 
with the metal balls hanging in a row on bits of fine wire. I bought one for 
Daddy a couple of Christmasses ago. He quite liked it, I think.

"My God!" Moggie buried her face in her hands. I didn't. I wasn't going to 
miss a second of this.

Charlotte and Stephanie, Daisy and Vulva were expanding, too. Their 
magnificent globes swelled almost visibly. If you looked away, then back 
at them, they were noticeably bigger. During a sudden hush in the singing, 
a button popped off Vulva's blouse and rolled to a halt at Miss Rhys ap 
Llewelyn Owen's feet. She managed to ignore it, but by then a second 
button, and a third, were rolling around the stage, and Vulva's mighty 
cleavage was suddenly visible in the chasm at the front of her blouse. 
Similar things were happening to the other three girls, and the 
neighbouring members of the choir were casting horrified little glances 
into the Fourth Formers' expanding frontages.

I hesitated to turn my attention back to Anna-Maria for fear of what I 
might see. The ScatBra was doing its job magnificently, despite projecting a 
foot on each side of the girl's chest. A sudden movement caught my eye 
and I looked back at Charlotte. Her bra had become snagged on something. 
The stupid girl hadn't adjusted the cups properly. There was an upheaval 
beneath her overcrowded bodice. Both breasts fell out of the bottom of the 
cups, and their plummeting weight instantly yanked her blouse out of the 
waist of her skirt. Floppp! Both breasts were dangling down by her crotch. 
What pretty areolae, I observed with delight. Such a delicate pink. So large.

Still, Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen kept on conducting, and the girls sang 
on, like the band on the Titanic, their eyes bravely fixed straight ahead, 
each on her selected judge. The judges, too, tried to look the girls squarely 
between the eyes. They failed.

In the television control room, hair was being torn out by the roots.

"Give me a wide shot of the entire hall! Camera Four, get off that bloody 
cow and give me a shot of the conductor!"

But there wasn't a camera in the building that wasn't focused on the 
bursting breasts of one or more of the five growing Fourth Formers. In 
desperation, an exterior shot of the building appeared on puzzled viewers' 
screens, followed by shots of the Tyne bridge, the river, Alan Shearer and 
a weather map of the British Isles. The BBC switchboard was jammed with 
calls demanding to know what was going on and why weren't they 
showing pictures of those lovely, innocent girls in the St Cat's Chorus?

The song came to an end. Despite the upheaval around the centre of the 
front row, it was a relatively local disturbance. The sudden ejection of the 
two outermost girls on the front row had gone almost unnoticed. The two 
girls most directly affected, the victims themselves, were at that moment 
sitting in the wings, sobbing almost inconsolably. Almost, but not quite. In 
fact, they were receiving intensive counselling from male members of the 
Sir Geoffrey Boycott Grammar School, and were showing signs of a 
miraculous recovery.

But at least half of the choir hadn't any idea what had happened to the 
Fourth Form girls. They were too busy trying to make the judges 
cummmmm. They had certainly made themselves cummmmm. The choir 
was seized with an hysterical massed Uncontrollable Horniness. 

As Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen lowered her baton and turned to the 
audience to receive the applause, the girls broke ranks and surged toward 
the judges' desk at the centre of the front row. By some quirk of fate - 
some triumph of Natural Selection - with the girls left to choose their own 
sex-object from among the judging panel, no judge had remained 
unselected. They disappeared beneath a spring tide of surging breast flesh. 
Blouses were ripping under the strain. Loud moans rent the air, mingling 
with the screams of the audience, now aroused to the verge of ejaculation.

One boy, seeing before him a vision of loveliness from his wildest and 
wettest dreams, rose from his seat and careered on winged feet down the 
aisle to the stage where Anna-Maria stood alone, her blouse in trailing 
shreds, her black bra now big enough to contain a couple of soccer balls in 
each cup. Poor, wretched lad, he flung himself upon the weeping Anna-
Maria, pouring kisses into her cleavage, before he and his love were 
engulfed beneath something like a hundred lusty male-voices with 
recently but irrevocably descended testicles. As fast as their teachers 
pulled one off the pile, more joined in.

Judges were starting to appear from beneath their own melee. One woman 
judge saw a glimmer of daylight and set off up the aisle in the direction of 
safety, dressed only in bra and panties. She was hounded by four St Cat's 
girls in full cry, the sickening shades of their ScatBras gleaming palely in 
the dimmed house-lights.

Another judge staggered sideways from the throng and subsided to the 
floor, where three Junior girls fought each other savagely for the privilege 
of turning him over and sitting on his face.

A third, palpably unconscious, was carried furtively away by five girls, 
holding his arms, legs and anything else conveniently to hand.

A fourth, still miraculously with his wits about him, had managed to get 
his manhood out of his trousers, but despite his efforts, lunging wildly in 
all directions, he couldn't find a hole that stayed still long enough to shove 
it in. It ended up in Vulva Morgenstern's cleavage, wedged tight. As good a 
place as any, he thought, losing consciousness with a deep sigh.

The final judge stood up at last, shedding young girls like a wet dog 
shaking herself. Relative peace returned. The St Cat's Chorus, gradually 
realising the enormity of what it had just done, was retiring to its former 
horseshoe formation. Most of the girls had lost several items of clothing. 
Three or four of the Lower Sixth Formers were totally and magnificently 
naked. Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen picked herself up and stood shakily 
before them. She tapped with her baton for attention.

And the St Cat's Chorus took a bow.





Chapter 8:- The Great Escape


"I think we'd better get out of here," shouted Moggie. "Get Miss Rhys ap 
Llewelyn Owen to bring the girls."

"Sounds like a good plan," I agreed.

"What an absolute bloody disaster!" Villiers approached, charmingly 
tousled and distraught-looking. "We can never finish the film now. Not for 
the Beeb, anyway," he added in an undertone.

"Let's go!" I grabbed his arm and headed for the emergency exit. Discarded 
judges littered the aisles. I swear I saw a number of used condoms on the 
carpet, which seemed to suggest a certain amount of forward planning on 
the part of the boys in the audience. St Cat's girls would never carry such 
disgusting things, especially on to the stage at a choir contest. Would they?

"Hang on ..." I had spotted Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, looking dazed. 
"Moggie says to get the girls out of here. Better get them back to the hotel. 
We'll see you there." She nodded blankly at me. "Shit," I yelled. "Where are 
their knickers?"

"The sack is in the first dressing room, left hand side," mumbled Miss Rhys 
ap Llewelyn Owen, discovering her lucidity.

"I promised Smegs I'd be responsible for bringing it back to her. I'll get it. 
Get the girls to meet me with their panties out the back in two minutes." 
And I rushed off, with a confused Villiers in tow.

"What's in there," he asked as I lugged the black plastic rubbish bag on to 
my shoulder. It was appallingly heavy.

"I'm taking it back to St Cat's. Just got to get the last of them. Hang on ..." 
The choir were milling around by the entrance to the stage in various 
stages of undress. "Right, St Cat's! Throw your knickers in the sack. Come 
on!"

There was some dissent, and a couple of girls argued, quite reasonably, 
that they had lost their knickers. Most of them stepped out of them, 
though, and tossed them into the sack. I estimated it at twenty one pairs. 
Only nine pairs lost. "Thank you girls. See you later. Well done!"

Thanks, Miss. We did all right, didn't we, Miss?"

"You were wonderful. It made me wet just watching you."

"Ooooh, MISS!"

The sack weighed a ton now. I joined Villiers by the emergency doors.

We found a taxi immediately.

"Oh no, not you two again." The same taxi driver. Is there only one taxi in 
Newcastle? "It took me half an hour to clean me back seat this morning, 
after your bloody woman had dribbled all over it!"

"We won't be doing anything tonight," I promised him, and we set off. We 
did manage a quick snog, and I sucked Villiers off, but our hearts weren't 
in it, we could tell. And back at the hotel, the foyer was full of familiar 
suitcases.

"You've been checked out," the management unctiously assured us. "You'll 
find your cases over there. All the St Cat's Academy for the Performing 
Arts party is checked out. I'm sorry, we're full up tonight, no room."

At least, I still had a plane ticket, and so did Villiers. Half an hour later, we 
were in front of the departures desk, trying to talk our way on to the next 
London flight. At least, I thought, I could be back home at St Cat's by 
midnight, or so. Villiers was still horribly quiet. It must have been a shock, 
his film being sabotaged by one of St Cat's instant orgies.

"Never mind, darling," I comforted him as the plane swung on to the 
runway and accelerated like an electric train. I rested my head on his 
shoulder, and he slowly relaxed.

"I suppose we'll come through. The money would have been welcome, but 
money can't buy happiness!"

"Nor love, either." The seat belts light went off and we kissed, our ears 
popping. "Hey, you know what I always wanted to do?"

"Shan, no! Not in the toilet!"

"Come on, darling! I'm busting for a wee anyway. Come on, you can watch 
me do a piss, and hold my hand." I dragged him out of his seat. I half 
suspect it was the offer to let him watch me pissing that decided it.

There seemed to be quite a few passengers with strained expressions 
outside the toilet when we finally came out. You'd think they'd have had 
the commonsense to go before we took off. Honestly, some people.

"What's that smell?" Villiers was looking round as we settled in our seats 
again. The plane was already starting to descend. Had we really been as 
long as that in the toilet? Villiers was still sniffing around like a dog. "I can 
still smell something." He looked under the seat. "It's that sack of yours. 
What have you got in there?"

"Sack? Oh, *that* sack!"

"That sack. What's in it, Shan?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? It weighs a ton, and it stinks. It ain't nothing."

It did smell a bit, I had to admit. The girls of St Cat's had excelled 
themselves with five days' worth of panties for the export market. I bent 
down to try and tie the top of the bag more securely, but with tits like 
mine, I couldn't even see what I was doing, let alone find the neck of the 
sack and tie a knot in it.

"Oh, shit!" One of my breasts had fallen out of its cup.

"Shan. Not here, darling. Put them away."

"It's not *them*, it's only one. And I can't, not on my own, without taking 
my posh frock off."

"You can't? Here, let me help."

"Just a sec. While it's out, let me tie this sack. Aaargh! You were right, 
darling. It *was* 'them'. They're both out now." At least, I managed to tie 
the neck of the sack and sat back in my seat, one naked breast flopping 
into Villiers's lap, the other one hanging over the opposite arm of the seat.

"Fasten your seat belt, please, madam," said the girl in the smart uniform. 
She stopped in her tracks, her mouth open.

"You left your mouth open," I told her, and like a well-trained cabin crew, 
she closed it.

"Here," urged Villiers again. I looked and found him offering me my right 
breast in both hands. Or as much as he could hold in both hands. I helped 
him with it, and between us we got it almost tucked away.

"Come on, make yourself useful," I told the air hostess. It took the three of 
us, and we were all puffing and panting by the time my right breast was 
back in captivity. The second one followed with rather less trouble. I 
thanked the woman. "Your mouth's open again," I informed her.


**********

"You'd better come to my flat, darling. You can't get back to St Cat's tonight 
on your own. You can have the bed, I'll sleep on the couch."

"All right, darling. And thank you. I was beginning to get worried about 
the trains. May I make a phone call when we get home?"

And I did.

"I only just came in from the pub," rambled Smegs, in a slurred tone. "Go' 
boyfriend with me! Somewhere. Oh, shit! Gone. I had him when we came 
out of the pub. Life's a bitch, Shan!" She sobbed embarrassingly into the 
phone.

"Don't cry, Smegs, please. Look, I'll be home tomorrow morning, sometime. 
I don't know about the choir. They were slung out of the hotel, so they 
may have to come home on the overnight bus."

"Slung out? What they done, had an orgy?"

She thought that was a great joke, of course. You do after several pints.

"Yes. They raped all the judges. They got horny on the stage. You 
remember the five who grew? They grew some more. They're enormous 
now. Or vast. Not Brobdingnagian yet, although one of them is pretty 
monstrous."

"Great, Shan. But I'm not in th' mood for stories tonight. I was down the 
pub and they wouldn't have BBC2 on the telly, so I missed it. Did we win?"

"Nobody won, Smegs. I told you. St Cat's ravished all the judges and the 
whole thing broke up in confusion. It was a 'kin nightmare. We had to 
come home a day early."

Even when she's pissed out of her head, she doesn't miss a lot, our Smegs.

"You came home. Where's home, darling? Where are WE calling from?"

"Villiers's flat. I'll explain when I see you. Tomorrow, okay? Night, then ..."

And as I put the phone down, I remembered I hadn't asked her about the 
girl who had grown at St Cat's.


**********

"Bedtime, then," Villiers suggested, and I thought that sounded like a good 
idea. He led the way into the bedroom. A most serviceable little bedroom. 
And I certainly felt like being serviced.

The posh frock came off and my breasts came into view for the second 
time in the last ninety minutes. I unhooked the ScatBra and lowered them 
to the bed while I took my panties off. Villiers looked confused.

"What's the matter, darling?" I swayed closer to him.

He pulled a pair of almost white panties from his pocket. "I picked these 
up off the floor in the plane. You mean they aren't yours?"

"No, I just took mine off." I showed them to him. "Let's see those."

They were still damp. Soaked through. Type 'A' and 'B' stains. I sniffed 
them cautiously, and tears sprang unbidden to my eyes.

"At a guess, Third Form," I hazarded. "They must have fallen out of the 
sack."

"You mean ...?"

"I'm afraid so. I can explain. I'd rather not, but I can explain."

"It would be interesting, darling. Why you should find it necessary to carry 
half a ton of soaking wet schoolgirls' knickers from Newcastle to Windsor."

"Oooh, Villiers! I love it when you talk dirty! I'll tell you about the panties 
between our third and fourth fucks, okay?"


**********

The opportunity did arise to tell Villiers about the contents of the sack. The 
hiatus between our third and fourth couplings arrived surprisingly early, 
at around four in the morning, and although the messy details of the 
panties story could well have put me off sex for several minutes, it served 
only to arouse Villiers. It must be my gift for story-telling.

He even offered to take me back to St Cat's!

"You don't want to go messing around on trains for half the day, carrying 
that sack as well as your suitcase. I'm not doing anything on a Saturday 
morning. I'll run you down there. You'll have to navigate, though."

I supposed I could always maintain that the only way I knew to get to St 
Cat's was to go through Fillamore Deepleigh first, and that's the way we 
went.

"Oooh, look," I cried in sudden surprise, "Fillamore Deepleigh! I live here!"

We stopped off briefly at home. Daddy was out, but Mother made a cup of 
tea, drooling over Villiers in a disgraceful fashion. "What a nice young 
man," she whispered to me as we left. I suppose she called the Reverend 
Boyes-Wrecktham to find out if the church was available for a wedding on 
the first Saturday in May.

We missed Baps as well; she was out, collecting milk money, although 
Cassie answered the door, beaming at us.

"Shan! Hi. Baps is collecting money around the villages somewhere, she'll 
be really pissed off to have missed you." Even I was staggered at Cassie's 
appearance. Her jeans were skin-tight, with bare feet protruding from 
them, the toe-nails painted day-glo pink. Higher up, she wore a 
remarkably large T-shirt, with 'Baps's ALL-GIRL Dairy' across the chest. 
Actually, it wasn't across the chest, as Cassie's chest was rather lower down 
than most. "Like the shirt?" she breathed in deeply and stretched it a few 
more feet. "All the girls have them. Specially made, of course!"

"Of course!"

Villiers didn't breathe again until we were driving away up the hill out of 
Fillamore Deepleigh. 

"Who the bloody hell was SHE?"

"That's young Cassie. She's nice, isn't she?"

"But ... what is this all about? She must be as big as you!"

"Bigger, if anything, darling! And she's no age at all! She's another victim of 
chemically-induced breast growth. She gives milk, too."

"MILK?"

Strange how, when people first discover that girls give milk, they always 
say it in capital letters, like that. It now occurred to me that Villiers didn't 
know about the milk side of things, about the old St Cat's Dairy, and Baps's 
All-Girl Dairy either. "Her girls provide all the milk for a five mile radius 
around Fillamore Deepleigh," I explained, although I don't know if he really 
took it in.

"They drink milk from humans? From girls?"

"Of course. It's sweeter, and needs less sugar. It's what you had in your 
tea."

It was a fairly quiet drive back to St Cat's after that, although Villiers 
brightened noticeably when we rolled down the gravel drive and pulled to 
a halt in front of the imposing entrance. What had caused Villiers's 
noticeable brightening was the fact that it was a sunny Saturday morning, 
and St Cat's was busy with casually-dressed schoolgirls.

As ever, casually-dressed St Cat's girls are a memorable and arousing 
spectacle. And for a big-tit fan, as Villiers was clearly in danger of 
becoming, a sunny Saturday morning is an excellent time to see them.

He might just have worked that out for himself before we departed that 
morning. But still, ulterior motive or not, I was grateful to him for driving 
me down here.

"Come to my room and meet my very bestest friend!"

We walked through the broad corridor of the Voluptua Valentine Memorial 
building, passing groups of girls who looked up at me shyly yet with 
somehow knowing glances.

It's weird," whispered Villiers out of the corner of his mouth. "It's almost 
as if they KNOW we've fucking been continuously for the past two days!"

"Is that all it is, darling? It seems like months." I caressed his arm, and a 
passing trio of almost painfully, staggeringly beautiful Fifth Formers 
giggled at us.

"Hello, Miss," one of them called, and the others squealed as if she had 
come out with the most incredible witticism. St Cat's girls, I realised for 
probably the first time, were most extraordinarily attractive. Not just their 
figures - although even the non-enhanced ones did seem strangely well-
developed - but their faces as well. They seemed to have such huge round 
eyes.

Even Rumiko's eyes were huge and round. I saw an expression of pure, 
unalloyed lust cross Villiers's face, and turned to see what had caught his 
eye. Rumiko had emerged from the corridor leading to the Dawkes 
Memorial dormitory block, followed by a jiggling, jogging group of girls 
dressed in gi. It was a sight calculated to moisten the loins. They waved to 
me and loped on, looking disgustingly fit and filling the baggy top halves of 
their costumes with their disturbingly large breasts.

"Who were THEY?"

"The Japanese girl was Rumiko. She's our martial arts instructor, although 
she's only in the Fourth Form herself. She seems to have recruited some 
new students, too."

"Even she's got huge breasts. I thought Japanese girls were all supposed to 
be petite and dainty."

"Rumiko *is* petite and dainty. She just happens to have enormous tits as 
well. Here we are. Up these stairs." We went up to the staff 
accommodation, where it was much quieter. The sound of girls' voices 
carried faintly to us from below. The only sounds now were the usual 
Saturday morning noises of staff members in their beds, snoring 
drunkenly or making love.

I knocked on Smegs's door. "Come in!" came a muffled croak.

Perhaps we shouldn't have taken her at her word. She told us to come in 
automatically, without thinking, certainly without expecting me to have 
my boyfriend with me. The curtains were still drawn, so the first sight that 
Villiers had of Smegs was perhaps less shocking than it might have been. 
But I made the mistake of opening the curtains and letting the sunlight 
flood in.

"Fuckin' hell, Shan!" came a cry from the bed.

I had the advantage of knowing Smegs's preferred sleeping position. Just 
maybe it would have been better if she had not been alone in her bed; a 
lover would have hidden some of the more intimate detail with his or her 
body. As it was, Smegs's rear view was exposed, in fact, artistically 
spotlighted by a shaft of sunshine. It was too late to try covering her up. 
Villiers was already gaping in shock at the stunning sight.

"Sorry, she always sleeps on her knees and elbows like that, I forgot how 
awful it looks the first time you see it."

"Who are you talking to ...?" Smegs turned her head and opened one eye. 
With her usual mental agility, she realised that it was too late to prevent 
Villiers seeing so far inside her he could tell what she'd had for supper, so 
she rolled gently on to her side, then sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing 
her eyes, then embarking on an extensive programme of scratching her 
verdant armpits. "Hello," she said, blinking and squinting at Villiers. 
"HELLO!" That came as she reassessed the target. Her eyes widened, and 
she transferred her right hand to the more urgent duty of scratching her 
crotch.

"This is my friend, Villiers. Villiers, this is Megan."

Smegs extended her hand. It was only when she had clasped Villiers's 
hand that she realised - in fact, they both realised - that it might have 
been better to have wiped it first.

"Sorry!" She rectified her omission, wiping her fingers on the bedsheet, and 
sniffing them before deciding it would be impolite to offer him her hand 
again. "Call me Smegs, everybody else does. It's short for smegma, 
apparently." She sniffed her fingers again as if even she couldn't quite 
believe it. "Jeezus!" Her eyes were watering. "Oh! Take a seat," she said, 
remembering her manners. "I'll get dressed."

I dropped on to the bed, still warm and damp from my bestest friend's 
body, leaving Villiers the armchair. He removed a few items of EXTREMELY 
intimate soiled girlwear before sitting down, then tried without success not 
to watch as Smegs stood up, still scratching herself, and found a crumpled 
T-shirt to cover her jutting spherical breasts. I was reminded, as ever, of a 
girl smuggling soccer balls.

"What have you got in the sack?" Like a child on Christmas morning, she 
untied its neck and peered into the dank interior. A wave of 
unpleasantness probably wafted out of the sack, but in our present 
surroundings it was scarcely noticeable. "Mm, nice!" She plucked one or 
two pairs out and rubbed them between her fingers. "Good batch, Shan. 
They all here?"

"A few pairs missing from last night, but as far as I know, that's the whole 
week's output."

"A whole week!" She dived her arm to the bottom of the sack, like a 
veterinary surgeon examining a cow, and came up with something 
crumpled and festering. "Perhaps you're right," she said, seeing Villiers and 
I both holding handkerchiefs over our noses. With regret, she twisted the 
neck of the sack shut and dumped it in the corner.

She looked up brightly, changing the subject. "Well? Did we win?" She 
honestly didn't know, or didn't remember what I had told her last night. I 
gave her the whole story again, not just the recorded highlights. Villiers 
helped with some of the more outrageous things I had conveniently 
forgotten.

"When are they coming home, then, today?"

"Dunno. They were slung out of the hotel. Half of the choir had lost their 
clothes, or most of their clothes. None of them had knickers on..."

Smegs tutted crossly. "A waste of good juices. I'll have a word with Miss 
Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen about that when I see her. The last thing I said 
before they left was 'never let them forget their knickers'! And what does 
she do?"

"It's not her fault, Smegs. She was under a lot of stress. All the girls were 
getting serious action and nobody fancied her at all. Moggie, too. I think 
she's gone through the entire week without getting laid once. Even I began 
to feel sorry for her once or twice."

"If you were feeling sorry for Moggie, you were obviously getting plenty 
yourself," she grinned, and Villiers looked hotly embarrassed.

I threw something at Smegs. I don't know what it was, in fact, I shudder to 
think. It was cold and wet, and it missed her by a foot and slapped against 
the wall. "We had some trouble with girls growing, too, Smegs. Five of them 
in the Fourth Form."

"That's why she sent for you with the emergency bras. You mean they 
grew some more?"

"At the concert, on the stage. Four of them had boobs already, but Anna-
Maria didn't, and now she's got..."

"Anna-Maria Oxberry? She's flat as a plank."

"Not any more, she's not! She was the biggest of the five even before the 
choir contest. Then on stage, they started growing and growing. She got 
wider and wider, and her arms got forced out to the sides. I was watching 
her, and her arms got to about here ..." I demonstrated "... and the girls on 
either side shoved them back down again. They never stopped singing, but 
you could tell, it was a surprise when Annie started trying to push them 
away, as they thought."

"What happened then?" Smegs was on her hands and knees trying to 
retrieve her knickers from under her bed. She grinned wickedly over her 
shoulder at me. The slut was showing her entire rear end to Villiers, who 
had closed his eyes. See one, you've seen them all, I supposed, although the 
sight of all that glistening pinkness was having its customary effect on my 
loins.

"Her arms bounced off her tits and went whang! Back up again, and the 
girls each side sort of fell over and knocked into the girls on each side of 
them and they bounced into the next and so on. And the little kids on the 
outside of the choir went flying into the wings. We never saw them again."

"What, not at all?" She was climbing into her knickers and I was seized 
with a desire to help her. She has the most creamy thighs, have I told you 
before? And the softest fur! She pulled them up, ensuring as usual that 
they partially disappeared into various orifices. She made a quick check, 
front and back, then sniffed her fingers, more tentatively this time. I 
continued with an effort, clutching my groin with barely suppressed lust 
for her.

"No, we found them later, crying their little eyes out. But by then, all five 
of the ones with the growth problem were ballooning away, and Annie was 
in the middle of the stage with her blouse hanging off her like a bunch of 
old rags. But then the song finished ..."

"What were they singing?"

"Christ knows, they all sound the same to me. It wasn't God Save the 
Queen."

"No, it wouldn't be ..."

"... and they had all been told to concentrate on one judge and sing to that 
one, and make them cummmmm!"

"Who told them that?"

"Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen. But they took it literally, the way girls do. 
They weren't sure if the judges were coming or not, so they went to make 
absolutely certain. And all hell broke loose."

"So how big are they now?" Always practical, our Smegs.

"We'll have to get the newly-formed St Cat's Junior Statistics Group to 
measure them on Monday, but considering Anna-Maria was something like 
eighty-five inches on Thursday night, I hate to think how huge she is 
now!"

"Shit. Not another one bigger than me!" Smegs said through gritted teeth.

"Five of them bigger than you. Even Stephanie Thundersley was five feet 
round, and she was the smallest by miles. Still, all this talk is going to 
make Villiers think we're obsessed with numbers." It was certainly 
upsetting Smegs. I had remembered the question I needed to ask Smegs. 
"There was something you didn't tell me. Who was the girl here who had 
the problem in the lab?"

She stepped into a pair of jeans. With deepest regret, I watched her thighs 
disappear from view. She wriggled her hips extravagantly and raised a leg 
in an attempt to get comfortable around the crotch. Unable to help myself, 
I approached her and smoothed the soft stone-washed denim down the 
yielding flesh of her upper thighs. Villiers watched us open-mouthed as 
our tongues met briefly. No more than a few minutes passed, the only 
sound being the gentle lapping of our open mouths.

Smegs remembered the question. I had completely forgotten it. "Oh, her. 
Nothing to worry about. Sister's keeping an eye on her over in the sick-
bay."

"The sick-bay! What's the matter with her?"

"Nothing really. A slight mobility problem. I've ordered a wheelbarrow for 
her, but it won't arrive until Monday. And her wider bed should be here 
by then, and she can move back into the dorm. Provided the builders have 
widened the doors. Everything's under control. Leave it to old Smegsy!"

"Megan! This is terrible! A wheelbarrow? A wider bed? Wider doors? How 
big is she? And WHO?"

"Oh, shit. You were going to have to find out some time. It's Shona!"

"Shona? Her Mum will kill her!"

"That's funny. That's just what she said. Anyway, you know when your 
newly-formed St Cat's Junior Statistics Group measured all the choir and 
the Countess came to 118 inches?"

"Yes, what's that got to do with it?"

"There was some talk, just the girls, it was nothing. Anyway, some of the 
girls reckoned she was really bigger than that, but ... it was just some of 
the girls saying this ... you told them to make sure to keep her bust below 
ten feet, so you'd still be the biggest in the school. Not me, just a few of the 
girls."

"That's ridiculous! As if I would ..."

"... anyway, it doesn't matter any more!"

"... how could they even think it matters to me who is the biggest in the 
whole sch ... what doesn't matter any more. What do you mean?"

"The Countess isn't biggest. And nor are you. Shona is! No contest, Shan! 
You are out of the frame."

It had to happen sometime, I supposed. The way this lot were getting 
bigger and bigger, it was only a matter of time before one of them grew a 
bigger set than mine. Or all of them grew a bigger set than mine!

"Anyway. She asked for you, Shan. She said, 'could you ask Miss 
Gruntworthy to come and see me when she gets back. Please.' I said, sure, 
and it seemed to make her happy."

"You said it was an accident. What happened?"

"Dunno. Mouse or something. She fell in a tank of stuff."

"Why? Why was there a tank of stuff in there at all? Who was in charge of 
the class?"

"Clarrie, actually. We were short with you up North, so I sent for Sir Roger, 
but he was indisposed. Clarrie came over by courier, they delivered her in 
a crate in the back of a van. Davie came, too, unfortunately. He was in the 
lab, chatting up Suzanne and Pansy, and Pansy tried to sit on his face for 
some reason, and Suzanne was trying to drag her off, so Clarrie waddled 
over to keep order, and meanwhile Shona was getting chased by a mouse, 
and she fell in a tank. She grew straight away. She's giving a bit of milk, 
too, so perhaps her breasts won't be quite as big when the milk stops."

"Her Mum will kill her this time, for sure!"

"We haven't told her Mum yet. I think that's why she was asking for you. 
She wanted you to break the news to her Mum!"





Part IV





Chapter 10:- An Even Bigger Shona


"We'd better say bye-bye, then. Thanks for the ride and everything. I'm 
sorry about the film job. The whole thing's been an absolute nightmare. 
And thanks ... for having me! And so many times."

"Shan ... you're a wonderful girl. Thanks for everything. Can I, may I call 
you?"

"Of course. I'd love that!" I leaned in at the window of his car and we 
kissed. Not easy, I couldn't get very close to him with my boobs squashing 
against the door. We clung desperately to the bits of each other we could 
reach.

"I'll call you tonight. At bedtime."

"Oh, darling!" I came copiously.

The car drove off, quite slowly, down the drive, and I turned round and 
started walking wetly in the direction of the sick-bay. I passed girls, who 
looked at me; sideways, not with their usual knowing glances. I think 
they'd witnessed our tearful farewell scene.

The sister met me at the door. "Hello, Miss Gruntworthy, Shona's been 
expecting you. She's through there..."

Shona looked quite bright and cheerful. She was usually a slightly serious-
looking girl. Plain bloody miserable, even. But she grinned as I went into 
the room. It was as well she did. Shona was, in a few words, a disturbing 
sight. Even, as she was, under the bed covers, with the duvet pulled up to 
her chin.

"Oh, hi, Miss! I hoped you'd be back today. Did we win?"

"Hi, Shona. Not exactly. Didn't you see it on television?"

"Oooh, yes, but it got as far as St Cat's singing, then it got sort of cut off. We 
recorded it." I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she picked up a 
remote control and aimed it at the screen, thrusting it forward, the way 
people do. A familiar scene appeared, with the St Cat's Chorus in their 
horseshoe formation on the stage. It was a wide shot, so there wasn't too 
much detail of individual singers, but then there was a closer shot of two 
or three of the girls, and the camera panned across the front row.

"There's Belinda," she said, indicating a fellow First Former, "and Katie. But 
who's that one there? It looks like Annie from the Fourths, but she's 
different ..."

"Yes, she grew a bit. So did some of the others," I admitted, as other 
enlarged Fourth Formers appeared on the screen. We watched as the choir 
went through its first two songs.

"Isn't it beautiful singing, Miss!"

"Oh? Oh, yes! I'm sure it is." I was sure it was.

On it went, the show. Then I began to realise that the camera was looking 
straight at Anna-Maria. And zooming slowly in. Anna-Maria was getting 
bigger on the screen just as she had in real life. The scene cut away to 
another view, from the side, at a high angle. That one started to zoom in as 
well. Again, the scene changed, to a portable camera below eye-level, the 
girls looking out over the top of the camera. I could see the lust in their 
eyes as they tried to make the judges cummmmm. Meanwhile, the 
cameraman had spotted a movement in one girl's blouse. He had been 
slowly moving past the girl - I saw now that it was Vulva Morgenstern - 
then he did a double-take and twitched back to concentrate on Vulva's 
chest. Again, the view changed back to the original wide shot. Which was 
beginning to zoom in on Anna-Maria.

A picture of the outside of the hall appeared, then quite a pretty shot of 
the Tyne Bridge.

"That's Alan Shearer, isn't it, Miss? Was he there, too?"

"Looks like him. I suppose he must have been."

Mr Shearer was followed, inexplicably, by a weather map of the British 
Isles. And although there were occasional pictures of the stage after that, 
the show never quite got back into its measured stride, somehow.

"And that was it," said Shona. "It went off. What did happen, Miss?"

"It's a long story, Shona!"

"That's all right, Miss. I've got *stacks* of time!" She snuggled happily 
down in the bed and waited. So I told her the story. I was getting quite 
good at it by now. Shona listened, spellbound. At last, in a hushed, thrilled 
voice, she breathed, "oh, that was marvellous, Miss! I wish I could have 
been there to see them all. I wish I could *sing*, Miss!"

"It wasn't much fun at the time, Shona. And those girls who grew are 
probably feeling a bit uncomfortable. As you must be."

"Are they as big as me, Miss?"

"I haven't really seen how big you are yet, Shona."

She said nothing, but grinned at me, then whipped the duvet off herself 
and threw it down so that she was completely uncovered. Almost 
completely; she was wearing only panties.

If there's one thing you never quite get used to at St Cat's, it's the sight of 
newly-grown girls. Strange, really, with so many girls getting bigger all the 
time, for whatever reason, you'd imagine it would be such a commonplace 
experience. 'Huh, only another twenty inches, girl? Feh!' I'm not altogether 
sure what 'feh' means, but Vulva Morgenstern uses it quite a lot, and it 
seems to suit most occasions. Except this one. Whatever was the right 
word, it certainly was NOT 'feh'.

Shona was ...! Sorry, there wasn't a word for it. We've used them all up, 
including Brobdingnagian. Mind you, lying there, I was reminded of 
Gulliver surrounded by those tiny Lilliputian figures, tying him down with 
dozens of ropes no thicker than a human hair.

I had remembered Shona as a very big girl. Whenever there had been 
boob-juice flying around, Shona seemed to get herself squarely in the way. 
And at Christmas, she had indulged in some pretty conspicuous over-
eating. Then with the decision to enlarge the new girls, Shona, stark naked 
in the headmistress's office, had taken a burst of boob juice plumb 
between her already mountainous breasts.

Now, those breasts lay on each side of her body, almost falling off the side 
of the bed. The sister had pushed the bed hard against the wall on one 
side, but on the other, Shona's right breast was teetering on the brink. If it 
fell over the edge, it was going to hurt. She noticed the direction of my 
glance.

"It fell off the bed last night, Miss. It nearly dragged me out with it. Sister 
woke up and came in and put a chair beside the bed to hold me in."

They must have reached down to her knees as she lay there, and the left 
one, on the same side as the wall, was sort of piled up so it was about twice 
as high as Shona's chest. The right one had more room, and spread out 
more, so it didn't stick up quite so high. I was sitting down by her feet, and 
the nipples were uncomfortably close to me. I could have reached out and 
touched one. Or grabbed it in the palm of my hand. It was surrounded by 
an areola the size of a plate. You hear about them being like dinner plates. 
Shona's weren't that big, but they were as big as ... saucepan lids. That's 
right. Saucepan lids! With thick brown handles.

"Yours are the biggest tits I've ever seen in my life, Shona," I whispered. I 
had chosen my words carefully.

She blushed prettily.

"I'm sorry, Miss."

"Sorry? What for?"

"For being bigger than you, Miss. For being the biggest in the whole school, 
Miss!"

"Oh, Shona, my little darling!" Not the happiest choice of adjective, but it 
would do for now. I stood up and went to the top of her bed, and stroked 
her soft hair. Tears appeared in her eyes. Shona had been brave long 
enough. Her bravery had just about run out. She clutched at my hand with 
a plump little paw.

"Oh, Miss. Will they always be this big?"

"It's up to you, darling. When you're older, they'll be able to make them 
smaller. Meanwhile, you'll have your wheelbarrow, and you'll be able to 
get around just fine."

"My Mum'll kill me, Miss!"

"No she won't, Shona. She loves you. And so do we. All of us love you."

"No, it's about the wheelbarrow, Miss. Dad's got one, but he keeps it down 
the allotment. If I go home, I can't take my own barrow with me on the 
train, and Dad won't let me have his."

"Perhaps they'll have one next door they can lend you." Was this bizarre 
conversation really taking place?

"Perhaps, Miss." She was quiet for a minute. I began to wonder if she had 
fallen asleep. "Miss?"

"Shona?"

"Do you really all love me, Miss?"

I bent and kissed her eyes, one at a time, tasting the salt water, and 
stroked her hair again. This time, she did fall asleep.

Of course, I thought, as I walked back to my room, I could only kiss her 
eyes one at a time, unless her eyes were extraordinarily close together or I 
had an unusually large pair of lips. As opposed to labia, if you see what I 
mean. I thought of labia and began to hurry. My bestest friend would be 
ready for me.


**********

But I didn't get as far as my room, nor Smegs's room, more's the pity. As I 
crossed the campus, the sun went behind a cloud, and slanting rain began 
to fall. I can't run, it goes without saying, I fact, I can't even walk very fast, 
so I was soaked by the time I reached the shelter of the main building.

There was a bus outside, and a tatty collection of vast-breasted schoolgirls 
were getting off it. The St Cat's Chorus was back from its partially 
successful tour. Moggie was looking haggard. She is quite elderly, I 
suppose. She must be all of thirty-five or forty by now. And was that Miss 
Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen being led away by two men in white coats?

The choir itself stood around in the rain, looking hopeless, waiting for the 
driver to unload their bags. Most of them were still dressed in the 
remnants of their uniforms. Those who had been left naked or partially 
clothed had dipped into their baggage to make themselves more or less 
decent. They looked as if they hadn't slept for days. I was filled with 
compassion for them.

"Come on, don't stand around in the rain catching pneumonia, you idle 
slags, get your arses indoors." I smacked a plump bottom or two to get 
them moving, and like a herd of cows - very much like a herd of cows - 
they began to move up the steps of the Voluptua Valentine Memorial 
Building. Moggie joined the others, looking a dejected and beaten woman. 
That must have been the effect of a week without sex.

Once indoors, they hung together in a sad bunch, and other girls, passing 
them, looked at them as if they were lepers, keeping their distance, while 
staring at the newly-enlarged Fourth Formers with wide eyed incredulity.

So, for that matter, was I. The last I had seen of them was when they had 
just come off the stage, and there had been little opportunity to study the 
enlargees at close quarters. Now, though, I was able to see the full glory of 
their development. Stephanie was still smaller than some of her fellow 
classmates, but her danglers were still quite impressive, hanging loose 
inside her T-shirt. The last time I had seen them, they had just escaped 
from under her bra and were trying to get away at ground level.

Charlotte had obviously lost all her clothes somewhere along the way, and 
had been outfitted by other girls who matched her more or less closely in 
size. Her skirt was only a couple of sizes too tight and too short, and her 
shirt was intended for a hulking lumberjack. A hulking lumberjack without 
the job-threatening handicap of a pair of sandbags tied to his chest might 
have looked reasonably dapper in it, but not Charlotte. She had tied the 
ends of the shirt together beneath her tits, which I thought certainly 
created an interesting effect, but she hardly cut an elegant figure.

The diminutive but chunky Daisy had found a night-dress from 
somewhere, possibly one of the larger-boned members of the choir, like 
Sam Smith-Smythe. It hung down to her ankles like a shroud, apart from 
the two big round bits at the front which made Daisy resemble a balloon-
smuggler.

I had always thought of Vulva Morgenstern as a sexy little bitch. Or rather, 
a sexy big bitch. She was an even bigger bitch now, and every bit as sexy. 
She had come out of her adventure relatively unscathed. Somehow, despite 
adding something like a whole yard to the circumference of her bust, her 
blouse seemed to fit perfectly, without a crease. I made a mental note to 
ask her how she managed it. Must have been because her Daddy was in 
schmutter.

And of course, in line with my policy of keeping the best until last, there 
was the incredible Anna-Maria. From a flat-chested, more or less 
cylindrical girl less than a week ago, she had grown on Wednesday night to 
the size of an exotic dancer with pretty strong grounds for a lawsuit 
against her plastic surgeon. During the course of the choir's closely-
targeted erotic singing, which led to Uncontrollable Horniness, she had 
expanded again. For the first time ever, I saw a ScatBra damaged beyond 
economical repair. Anna-Maria had hung it round her neck, a stretched 
and ripped tangle of black fabric and velcro. Her blouse was one of the 
Countess Langsdorf's spare ones, and it was too tight for Anna-Maria. 
Another one bigger than me! I was beginning to feel like Smegs.

Let me put that another way, I was beginning to feel the way I imagined 
Smegs must occasionally feel. On the other hand, too, I was beginning very 
much to feel like Smegs! Casting a furtive glance around, I edged away. As 
soon as I reached the staircase leading up to the staff accommodation, I 
lumbered as fast as circumstances would allow up to my bestest friend's 
bedroom, and knocked with trembling hands.

"Come in!"

"Smegs!" I blundered into the room, "I've missed you so MUCH!"

"Shan! DARLING!"

I don't know if she ever called me that before, but it was all the 
encouragement I needed. Smegs was already showered, clean and naked 
apart from a sprinkling of talcum powder. She half reclined on her bed 
with one knee raised just a little; her thighs slightly parted in anticipation.

The only thing to spoil the scene was that she was rummaging through the 
sack of knickers, making instant decisions and sorting them into the usual 
fourteen separate piles. She patted the bed next to her. "Get undressed, 
then you can help me finish these off. What are yours today? The usual 'B' 
with just a touch of 'A' and the merest hint of 'C'?"

"Oh, Smegs! You know how that sort of thing makes me feel ill."

"Well, it's *your* panties we're talking about. The answer is in your hands. 
Or more accurately ..." she snaked a hand up my skirt "...in MINE!"

It was time for one of those rows of little dots...





Chapter 11:- A Very Nice Wheelbarrow


The rest of the weekend passed with the shadow of the choir contest 
debacle hanging over the school like a pall. Newspaper reporters 
descended on St Cat's on the Saturday afternoon, having traced the bus 
company which had provided the choir's transport home from Newcastle.

My hoped-for afternoon with Smegs was disrupted by uproar beneath the 
bedroom window. I put up with the noise for a few minutes; then crawled 
off my bitterly complaining friend with a sound like a rubber-booted foot 
being extracted from deep mud; and peered out of the curtains.

"Smegs, get up, quick, look at this lot!"

She did, pulling curly hairs from her mouth, and joined me at the window. 
"Fuckin' hell," she ejaculated. "Who are they?"

"The world's press, if I'm not mistaken. Better get dressed."

"Oh, Shan, no! I've been simply days without you!"

"Come on, we can carry on later." We clung to each other by the window, 
naked, until I saw several fat white telephoto lenses aimed in our 
direction. "I think we just made tomorrow's 'Sunday Smut'," I said.

"Shit, and just look at my hair," shrieked Smegs.

We dressed quickly and made our way down to the paved area 
surrounded on four sides by weathered brickwork almost six years old 
which we were trying to get used to calling the quad, rather than the 
playground. The choir, inadequately dressed for the season of the year, 
were posed on the steps leading down to the ornamental fountain, turned 
off to save money. Cameras whined and clicked at them, and hoarse voices 
yelled for attention.

"This way, girls!"

"Over here, Annie!"

They had identified Anna-Maria as the chief attraction and arranged the 
less abundantly endowed girls around her. With true St Cat's spirit, they all 
pointed their impressive cleavages into the lenses and adopted cheesy 
grins. I had never seen such a disgusting collection of absolutely 
disgraceful teen sluts, and I felt a genuine surge of pride in the old school.

"Look, lads! Teachers!" The cry went up, and half a dozen photographers 
detached themselves from the group and came streaming over to us like a 
plague of rats. "This way, lovey!"

"You stand at the back, lanky! You with the knockers, bend down in front!"

I could tell Smegs wasn't too pleased, but I told her it would be better not 
to make an unpleasant scene, and we posed prettily in the doorway, before 
the lads led us over to the girls from the choir.

"Gather round yer teachers, girls!" The choir formed a loose scrum around 
us: Anna-Maria kneeling in the centre with her boobs resting on the 
ground on either side of her knees. At last, after a few more pose changes, 
the group broke up, with one or two of the girls making private 
arrangements, presumably for prints to send home to mother.

"You'd better get dressed, girls," I shouted. In their bras and panties the 
choir was ill-equipped for outdoor work on a chill January day. Unsightly 
goosebumps were visible on bare thighs, girls were clutching each other 
for warmth and nipples were big enough to hang your coat on.

"No press inside the school buildings, please, gentlemen," I shouted in an 
authoritative manner. "The girls' privacy must be respected. Thank you." 
And we all streamed inside, to be greeted by a fusillade of flashguns. The 
cameras were there before us.

At moments like this, Smegs is so masterful. As she grabbed the nearest of 
the photographers by the collar and the seat of his pants and ejected him 
out of the door and down the steps, I felt a deep love for her. She came 
back for another, and got rid of him as well, by which time I was a spent 
force.

"Take me, Smegs, my darling," I pleaded. But she continued until she had 
dealt with the last cameraman. She returned, dusting her hands together.

"Why aren't they coming back in? What did you do to them?"

"Trade secret," she said, touching the side of her nose. And I literally 
dragged her up the stairs into her bedroom.


**********

Needless to say, we were on all the front pages. Moggie dropped a pile of 
newsprint on the table at breakfast.

"Clean sweep," she said. "Even the 'Telegraph'!"

We spread the papers out. The 'Smut' was probably the best, with its 
colour spread in the centre pages, which had necessitated dropping the 
planned-for feature on 'Just-Sixteen - Lisa Lay-tex - Smut's Stunna With 
200-Inch Gazongas'.

It was just as well, Lisa's expansive charms weren't even a patch on mine, 
let alone Anna-Maria's. There was another picture tucked away in Page 
Seventeen.

"Who's this?" I asked Moggie. It showed a fairly well-endowed young 
woman bending over and presenting her private parts to the camera, while 
hoisting her skirt up to her waist. The innermost core of the woman's being 
was covered by a black rectangle, but it didn't fool me.

"I know that pussy," I said, and saw Smegs trying to slide down in her 
chair out of sight beneath the table.

"Megan!" said Moggie. "What is the meaning of this?" She read the caption, 
her glasses perched on the end of her nose. "'Teachers were never like this 
in our day! Steaming stunna Megan Mountains is Deputy Head at St 
Catherine's High School for Girls, but she is second to none when it comes 
to giving HEAD to her students, nor (see page 21) to other teachers on the 
staff of the exclusive private school in rural Southern England...'"

With numbed fingers, I turned to page 21. There, in surprising clarity, 
were Smegs and I looking out of a window, absolutely naked and clutching 
each other in a decidedly affectionate embrace. A black rectangle covered 
Smegs's crotch, and another - considerably larger - obscured mine.

"I'll see you both in my office first thing tomorrow morning," gritted 
Moggie, and she stormed out, leaving us to gather up the papers before 
they could corrupt the minds of the girls.


**********

We presented ourselves outside Moggie's office the next morning. Miss 
Rotten Labia told us to go straight in, we were expected.

"Did you stick an exercise book down your knickers?" Smegs asked me. 
"She might be in a spanking mood."

"Gosh, do you think so?"

"I don't know what you two think you have to giggle about," said Moggie 
sternly, fixing us with a grim stare. We stopped laughing, although every 
time I caught sight of Smegs's face, I started again. Moggie stood up with 
her arms akimbo. "If you behave like schoolgirls, you will be punished like 
schoolgirls!"

To my delight, she took a whippy cane out of her top drawer and tested it 
on the palm of her hand. I began to squirm in anticipation. "You will report 
to me here every evening this week for an hour, and you will write out 
one *thousand* times, 'I must not giggle in Miss Thunderbolt's office'."

"Oh, MISS," we both whined in chorus.

"TWO thousand. Starting tonight!"

We sat glumly looking at her, our thighs touching warmly. I was becoming 
randy again.

"Now," said Moggie, brightly. "Let's get down to business. She was a 
different woman all of a sudden. "The choir performed admirably last 
week, although we had a couple of unfortunate occurrences. I mean, of 
course, the enlargement of five of the Fourth Formers, and the regrettable 
orgy at the choir contest. The two may not be entirely unconnected. 
Chauntaille, you will look into this, with the aid of your First Form Sexual 
Chemistry Group."

"What about the measurements of the enlarged choir members, Miss?"

"That will naturally take precedence. Try to get it over quickly, please. 
What method will you be using?"

"That's the task of the newly-formed St Cat's Junior Statistics Group, and 
ultimately, their decision, Miss!" I was being pompous and huffy. "One 
assumes they will use the table top method. It is the industry standard for 
bust measurement throughout British schools."

"That's as may be. You may need a taller table, that's all. I'm only warning 
you." She turned her attention to Smegs. "Megan!" Smegs sat up and looked 
at her. "What progress on the Giganto Project?"

"Well, none, Miss. A lot of the Lower Sixths were away with the choir, 
including the Countess."

"That needn't have stopped you. You're slacking, falling down on the job. If 
you can't handle it, I can demote you and promote Chauntaille to Deputy 
Head. You don't want that, do you?"

"No, Miss."

"Well you know what to do, then, don't you! Right then. Run along! I can't 
sit here all day talking to you."

"Both of us, Miss?"

"Of course, both of you. Do I have to spell everything out in words of one 
syllable?"

We stood up to leave, but stopped when Moggie let out a shriek.

"What's this bill here? Widening fire exits and interior doors? And this one, 
double beds? And a WHEELBARROW?"

"For Shona, Miss. We needed to widen the doors to the First Form 
dormitory and certain of the doors between there and the classrooms. She 
needs a double bed to accommodate her breasts and a wheelbarrow to 
carry them around with her."

"Have you seen the COST of these things? THAT much for a bed?"

"They were essential. If the Health and Efficiency inspector came round 
and found that one of our girls couldn't get through the doors, he would 
close us down and you would go to jail."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't have done it. But did you get alternative 
quotes for all these things. Was this the cheapest wheelbarrow you could 
find?"

"Not the cheapest, Miss. I asked for a barrow capable of carrying 150 
pounds. If Shona was wheeling her breasts around and one of them fell 
out, her parents could sue St Cat's for every penny they ..."

"All RIGHT! Haven't you any work to do? Get out! OUT!"

Smegs hadn't told Moggie everything, quite. The bill for a double bed was 
rather expensive. But not as expensive as two double beds would have 
been. By ordering two, Smegs had obtained a nice discount. And later, 
when the new beds were delivered, one would be placed in the First Form 
dormitory for Shona. The other would go in Smegs's room. For us!

Well, having spent almost the entire weekend in Smegs's bed, we had 
decided to save a lot of unnecessary creeping about between rooms in the 
middle of the night. It was Smegs who suggested it, of course. She can be 
so forceful, so decisive, and yet, somehow, so tender.


**********

It was a lovely wheelbarrow. It had a nice fat inflatable wheel, rubber 
hand-grips on the handles and no unnecessary sharp edges. Smegs and I 
proudly wheeled it down to the sick-bay for Shona to practise loading 
herself into it.

Shona was sitting on the edge of the bed in her nightdress, which wasn't a 
nightie as such, since it couldn't cover her breasts. Instead, it was like a 
slip or skirt, pulled up under her boobs. After all, it was warm in the sick 
bay, and she slept on her back with her breasts by her sides.

"Help me up, please, Miss," she said, offering me her hand. She gave Smegs 
the other one, and stood up unsteadily. "That's better. Once I'm stood up, I 
can balance." We processed slowly to the doorway.

"Well, there she is, Sho, what do you think?" I said.

Her face lit up. "Oooh, it's a lovely one, Miss. Thanks ever so much." She 
turned to Smegs and beamed at her. "Can I try it out, Miss?"

"Of course," said Smegs. "It's your barrow."

"You can get your name painted on the side if you like," I told her, and she 
gasped in delight. "But you'd better try loading yourself into it. Put one of 
them in, and keep it to one side, then load the other one on top of it."

She struggled to get both arms beneath her right one, and lifted the 
wobbling great thing in front of her while Smegs and I watched. We 
wanted to help, but she had to learn to do this thing on her own.

Suddenly, with a soft metallic clang, she flopped into the barrow. "Ow! It's 
fuckin' COLD! Ooops, sorry, Miss!"

"Perhaps you could line it with a blanket or something," suggested Smegs. 

"It needs *something*, Miss. Look at my nipple!"

We did. It was sticking out like the cap of one of those thick ink markers 
you can get, you know the sort of thing? We've got one we use for putting 
the addresses on parcels.

Shona, meanwhile, had piled her left breast on to the barrow, where it 
settled with a soft, silent squish.

"Here we go, then," said Shona, picking up the handles. "Oooh! Oh, no!" She 
set the barrow down with a bump. "I nearly fell over." She tried again, 
then took a cautious step forward. Then another. It was like baby's first 
steps. We should have had a video camera. But Shona was moving steadily 
now, and we set off after her down the path away from the sick bay 
toward the quadrangle.

She was up to a brisk, wobbling walk, and we had to hurry to keep up as 
she reached the end of the path and headed for the centre of the quad, and 
the fountain, still turned off to save money. In fact, a notice on the school 
notice board seized the moral high ground for Moggie by claiming that 
turning off the fountain was saving the entire planet. Bullshit, in my 
humble opinion.

Turned off the water may well have been, but the pool was still partly full 
of murky water, and Shona was well on course for disaster. We caught her 
with difficulty. Smegs get there first, with her long legs and less tit to 
carry, and grabbed Shona's pudgy left arm. All she could do was swing her 
off course to the left.

From classroom windows all around the quadrangle, horrified girls stared 
out at the sight of a massively topless girl in a diaphanous waist-slip, 
pushing two huge pink things along in a wheelbarrow. She was being 
barely restrained by a tall busty woman grabbing her left arm - and a 
shorter, much bustier woman just about to fall on her front, but saving 
herself by catching hold of the elastic of the girl's filmy garment.

It didn't stop Shona completely. It couldn't, at the speed she had worked 
up to. But it slowed her down, and Smegs brought her head round like an 
obese runaway horse. They stopped, panting and snorting, and looked back 
at me. I was sitting on my fortunately well-padded bottom, still holding 
the remains of Shona's nightie.

Shona was realising, perhaps for the first time, that she was stark naked in 
the centre of St Cat's, with her tits in a wheelbarrow, under the eyes of 
several dozen of her schoolmates.

But it was a very nice wheelbarrow.

"It's harder than it looks," she told Smegs. "It might take a few days to get 
used to it."





Chapter 12:- Give Me The Twelve Footer


Shona's was such a lovely wheelbarrow, it was only a matter of time 
before everybody wanted one. Well, not everybody, but all those girls 
whose breasts showed a tendency to dangle to wheelbarrow-level started 
bleating about human rights.

"I want one of those wheelbarrows like Shona's," said Anna-Maria. She had 
waylaid me in one of the school corridors shortly after Shona's first driving 
lesson had almost ended in disaster. "Why shouldn't I have one? Mine are 
nearly as big as hers."

"Yours are quite a bit smaller than Shona's," I told her, "and they're far 
more firm than hers. If you put them in a barrow, you would have to bend 
down to push it around. All you need is a bigger bra, and you're being 
measured for that this morning, aren't you?"

"Yes, Miss," she said in a subdued voice. "But I'm much bigger than the 
Countess, and *she's* got a wheelbarrow."

"She's WHAT?"

"I saw it. The van from the hardware store delivered it. It's dark chocolate 
brown with purple polyester lining and it's got her family crest on the 
sides. It's parked outside the Lower Sixth's classroom if you don't believe 
me."

It was, too, surrounded by a little crowd of admiring girls. The body of the 
machine must have had at least fourteen coats of superior enamel paint, 
rubbed down between each coat for that ultra deep showroom shine. The 
elaborate Lansdorf crest was emblazoned on the side panels. The rim of 
the barrow was trimmed with simulated ermine, and my fingers sank into 
the plush velvet cushions at the bottom. As Anna-Maria had mentioned, 
the inside of the container was lined with a silk-like material.

"Nice, isn't it, Miss?" Victoria was by my side, admiring the gleaming 
vehicle.

"Very nice, Toria." I looked at her closely. "You're looking quite full-
breasted today, aren't you?"

She blushed prettily. "Yes, Miss. All natural, too!" She looked down at her 
chest and cupped her full breasts with both hands. We began to stroll 
slowly in the direction of the classrooms. "I'm as big as Pansy again, now, 
Miss."

"They jiggle beautifully, Toria, yet they're so plump and full. Like melons."

"Melons, Miss? I've never heard of breasts being likened to melons before. 
I suppose they are, when you come to think of it. Anyway, thanks, Miss!"

"What for?"

"For these. They're just what I wanted!"

"They're none of my doing. They're natural, as you said."

"I know. And thank you!" She placed a hot little kiss on my cheek, then 
wobbled off up the corridor, leaving me standing there. Other girls stared 
at her as she went jiggling by. She really was so extraordinarily beautiful, 
and now she had these amazingly wobbly well-developed tits! A bunch of 
Toria's classmates appeared.

"Toria's got lovely big tits now, Miss!" They all looked at me, bright-eyed.

"Yes, she has, hasn't she."

"Could we have some, too, Miss, please? Let Toria still have the biggest in 
the class, but boost us up a bit. Please, Miss! Just six inches or so?"

"It's nothing to do with me. I'm not Mother Nature. Toria comes from a 
large-breasted family. It's only natural she should have such big ones. I 
didn't do it to her!"

"We know you didn't, Miss. But could you let *us* get bigger, Miss. The 
Thirds are getting left behind. We are witnessing the erosion of proper 
differentials."

Ah, a bunch of militant agitators. If they didn't get what they wanted, now, 
they would be forced to take industrial action. Unwillingly, of course. 
Withdrawing their co-operation. Picketing the bra assembly area. 
Withholding their panties. No, not that, surely. They wouldn't dare!


**********

I told Smegs about the rebellious Third Form, but she seemed to have 
something else on her mind.

"It's the Lower Sixth Form's project to replace Giganto," she complained. 
"Some of them want to make a film."

"Oh, I heard about that idea. Those two biggish girls, what are their names? 
Gudrun and Pubella. Sexy little bitches were chatting up the film crew up 
at Newcastle last week. Well, I've heard worse ideas than making a film. 
Why not?"

"It's their choice of subject. Pubella came to me with an outline of the 
script. She wants it to be a study of the psychological effects on a schoolgirl 
of the sudden development of a very large pair of breasts."

"Well, okay? It's a subject of interest to every mother in the country. Every 
Mum's worst nightmare, I should think. What's the problem?"

"They want to enlarge a girl to do it. They want to use the First Form 
Sexual Chemistry Group's boob juice to enlarge a girl over a period of three 
days while they're shooting the film. They'd got it all worked out. First day, 
she's completely flat, then she gets little apples, then oranges, grapefruit. 
Melons, watermelons, pumpkins and bean bags."

"No refrigerators?"

"Of course not! Fridges are oblong, with square corners."

"I was thinking we'd need a refrigerator for keeping all this fruit fresh 
more than anything else."

Smegs was suffering from total sense of humour failure today. "I think it 
sucks," she said.

"Oh, I don't know. Who had they thought of having as their star? We are 
desperately short of flat chested girls these days."

"Dunno. Some junior, I suppose. Someone dispensable. I'm going to tell 
Moggie I don't agree with the idea."

I reckoned Smegs just didn't want yet another girl around the school with 
bigger ones than her. I thought, under the circumstances, this wasn't quite 
the right time to tell her where I was just going. She wouldn't appreciate 
learning that I was going to supervise the measuring of the newly-
enlarged members of the choir.


**********

We'd decided to do it down in the bra manufacturing facility. They had the 
equipment down there: the long-legged table for extra large girls to dangle 
over the edge of, the fifteen and twenty-foot tapes, and best of all, Flaps 
and Clit. Or Clit and Flaps.

"Hi, Miss Gruntwurvy. Long time no see!" Clit is always glad to see me. I 
was overjoyed to see her, too, especially naked, as she was.

"Still problems with the air-conditioning, I see!"

"They fixed it, din' they, Flaps, but we still prefer working naked. It's what 
you get used to. Oi! What are you doin'?"

"I'm just a bit horny, sorry!" Regretfully I stood up and plucked a stray 
pubic hair from my tongue.

"Your Miss Mountains slung you out, then?" Flaps seemed to know about 
Smegs and me. Well, who didn't?

"No, she's a bit grotty today. Probably her time of the month."

"Never mind, sweetheart, come 'ere. We got ten minutes before the girls 
are due..."

They were very sweet. Between them, they laid me out on my back on the 
table and went to work without a word, each knowing her role with no 
need to discuss tactics. Clit took my top half, laying my tits up each side of 
my ears and giving my nipples a good sucking. Meanwhile, Flaps was busy 
down below. For the first time, I noticed that the ceiling was one enormous 
mirror. I was able to watch Flaps at work, and excellent entertainment it 
was, too.

It was like one of those out-of-body experiences, where you float above 
yourself attached only by a slender silver cord. Not that I ever had one of 
those, but I could imagine what it would be like. Gazing upwards, I could 
see the two splendidly naked seamstresses lapping away at my erogenous 
zones, and I thought, yes, teaching has its compensations.

At last, the two young women brought their ministrations to a close. Flaps 
was wiping her hands, face and breasts on a large white towel. There was a 
prolonged banging on the door.

"Here they are," said Flaps, and Clit opened the door wide.

"You had finished, hadn't you?" said a voice and Vulva Morgenstern came 
in, followed by the other four girls of the Fourth Form. "Hi, Miss! We heard 
you from across the quad, so we gave you a few minutes to finish your 
climax. How was it, Miss?"

"Excellent, Vulva, thank you very much. You're most kind."

"Oh, good. We're all here. Isn't this exciting!"

"A new ScatBra is always an exciting event," said Clit, sounding like a 
television commercial. "You can all get undressed. As you can tell, it's quite 
warm in here." She was right, I hadn't even felt the need to get dressed 
again myself.

"Did you see the St Cat's Junior Statistics Group on your way over here, 
girls?"

"You mean the newly-formed St Cat's Junior Statistics Group, Miss? Yes, 
Miss. That Suzanne Woods said they were just coming, Miss. Fat cow."

"Good. Now, you've all worn a ScatBra before. All happy about the 
adjustments? And the fitting procedure?" Clit cocked her head on one side 
and the five girls nodded happily. "Right, you first." She took Charlotte by 
the arm and sat her on the table. "You haven't been measured like this 
before, have you?" Charlotte shook her head and both Clit and Flaps gave 
her a helping hand.

"Let your boobs dangle over the edge, down there, that's right. Just lie on 
your tummy..."

"Yeugh! It's all wet. There's a puddle on here!"

"Oh, sorry," I said, grabbing a towel and darting forward. "That was me. I 
leaked a bit."

"Where?" Vulva Morgenstern shoved me out of the way and dipped her 
finger in the pool. She raised it to her lips, eyes closed, and smiled as she 
slid her finger into her mouth. "Gosh, Miss, was that all yours? You're 
REALLY wet, aren't you!"

"So people say, Vulva."

"Oooh, yes, Miss. And tasty, too. I can see why Miss Mountains loves 
lapping at your cu..."

"Thank you, Vulva!"

Regrettably, the other three girls had gathered round the table, dipping 
fingers into the moisture and tasting it with expressions of delight.

"Oooh, it's so sweet!"

"It's like slippery yet it's not slimy."

"It's a lovely taste, Miss!"

I put the towel down. The puddle was all gone. Meanwhile, Flaps had run 
her tape over Charlotte in all directions. I wished the St Cat's Junior 
Statistics Group, newly-formed or not,  had been here to witness a true 
expert at work. "All finished!" Flaps slung the tape around her neck and 
took Charlotte's fingertips in her hand. The girl swung her legs to the floor 
and stood with her breasts swinging like big soft pendulums on her 
stomach.

"They've stretched, look!" She pointed to her nipples. "They're lower down 
than they were a minute ago."

"That's why we let you dangle for a couple of minutes before we measure 
you, to let them stretch to their full length," said Clit. "Here's your bra".

"Sorry about the colours," said Flaps, handing Charlotte two vomit-yellow 
bras. "You're up to sixty-six inches. What were you before?"

"I dunno." She looked at me.

"About sixty."

"Gosh! Six inches, Miss?"

"Very well done, Charlotte!"

"Who's the next one," Clit rubbed her hands together and Stephanie took a 
pace forward. Stephanie was very pendulous when she had first grown. 
Now, her breasts gently grazed her thighs. She held them to stop them 
swinging as she clambered on to the table with some difficulty. "You've got 
a fat little arsehole, darling," cried Clit with a certain familiarity and a 
smack on Stephanie's bottom.

"Ouch!" She dangled herself over the table, and Flaps knelt down to stop 
them swinging.

"Sorry we're late, Miss," it was Suzanne, with her head round the door.

"Come in, quickly, all of you." Three girls came in, looking around them at 
all these naked bodies. "You missed the first one, but she was quite little. 
Right, dive in, watch Flaps with the tape. Ask any questions you want to, 
Clit and Flaps will try to give you the answers."

"Do we need to undress, Miss," said Pansy, "only I haven't changed my 
knick..."

"No, that's all right, Pansy. Be sure to put them in the basket tonight, 
without fail, all right?"

"Oooh, yes, Miss. Miss Mountains will love them, they're really crunchy..."

"Thank you, Pansy. I really do not want to know about your crunchy 
panties. Now, Anastasia, gather round where you can see. Gosh, *you've* 
grown!"

Anastasia blushed prettily.

"I think she got too close to the mixing bucket again, Miss," said Suzanne.

"We keep telling her, Miss," sighed Pansy.

Meanwhile, Flaps had finished with Stephanie.

"Right, fatso, down you get. Eighty-eight, thank you."

"Eighty-eight? That's nearly twenty inches!"

"We gave her a good dangle. You probably didn't stretch her properly 
when you did her. Next one. You, Daisy?"

Little Daisy blushed as she scrambled on to the table, helped gently by Clit. 
Hello! Did I detect signs of more than just friendship here? Flaps was 
looking at Daisy with a sour expression, and occasional daggers in the 
direction of Clit. Gosh! A bit of intrigue at St Cat's. A bit of lesbian rumpy-
pumpy behind the bike sheds. No law against it, of course. In this country, 
lesbians do not officially exist. Which is a bit hard on those of us who enjoy 
a spot of the old ...

"When you're QUITE ready!" Flaps was glaring at Clit, who had paused with 
her hand gently caressing Daisy's plump buttocks. Daisy was squirming 
softly on her stomach, no doubt leaving a puddle for the others to taste. 
She parted her thighs slightly and moaned a soft moan.

"If you'd rather we all came back in ten minutes, Clit," I suggested, kindly.

"Sorry, Miss Gruntwurvy, I came over all funny for a minute." She 
removed her hand with a final twitch, and Daisy's thighs snapped together 
with an audible squelch.

"You can get down," grated Flaps harshly, and Daisy slid off the table. As I 
had suspected, there was evidence left behind and Vulva helped herself. 
She winked at me and shook her head, screwing up her nose and wiping 
her finger on her buttock. "She's ninety-two inches", said Flaps without 
further comment. "Now, Vulva!" Her voice softened noticeably. "Your turn, 
my sweetness!"

"Cow!" muttered Clit under her breath.

They're all at it! So young Vulva Morgenstern was seeing Flaps in her 
spare time. These girls needed more homework to occupy their minds. I 
would see Moggie about it. Several minutes passed while Vulva and Flaps 
wrestled on the table top and the girls looked the other way and talked 
among themselves. Finally, after a polite cough from Clit, the two lovers 
broke off their entanglement and Vulva hung her breasts over the edge of 
the table.

Flaps busied herself with the tape. "That's two-hundred and ninety inches," 
she said proudly.

"Excuse ME!" Clit whipped her own tape from round her neck and encircled 
Vulva's dangling massiveness. "She's eighty-two. If that!"

"I beg your pardon!" Flaps wrapped her tape around the girl again. "There. 
One hundred and forty!"

"You've got it round the table leg. Admit it, your fancy bit hasn't grown as 
much as some of the others!"

"She has, too. And she's not my fancy bit."

"So who was snogging her for ten minutes when you got her on the table?"

"I was not snogging her. Our tits got caught up with each other, that's all."

"And your tongues?"

"Fuck off, you slimy cow."

"Oh, yeah, why don't you get personal, bum-face?"

"Hairy-arse!"

"Kipper-breath!"

"Ladies, please!"

"You stay out of this, shorthorn," Flaps told me rudely. The girls made an 
ugly noise at this insult to their teacher. The First Form members of the 
newly-formed St Cat's Junior Statistics Group clapped their hands together 
in anticipation of a fight.

"Ladies! We were measuring Vulva. If you aren't going to get on with the 
job, my girls will do it for you. We have classes to attend."

The two seamstresses snarled at one another, but got on with the 
measuring in silence. They finally agreed that Vulva had reached eighty-
five inches. The girl climbed off the table, disappointment showing in 
every wobble of her breasts.

"Your turn, Anna-Maria," I said, taking charge. "Are you sure you've 
stopped growing?"

"I think so, Miss. I was a bit bigger yesterday morning, but today I seem to 
be the same as yesterday."

"Get up on the table, then. Help her please,Vulva. Not like THAT!"

"Ouch, Miss. She pulled my nipple."

"Sorry, Miss, I thought it was her hand." I glared at Vulva and she 
subsided slowly. "Sorry, Annie", she murmured.

Anna-Maria's breasts were still stretching, and the seamstresses were 
busily measuring everything else they could find in the meantime. They 
still weren't speaking to each other, but the threat of violence had passed. 
Occasionally, their fingers brushed each other and their eyes met.

Finally, at an unspoken signal, they draped the tape around Anna-Maria's 
vast, bloated circumference. It was too short.

"Give me the twelve-footer!" Clit passed it over.

"There," said Flaps at last, "agreed?"

"Yep!"

"One hundred and forty inches!"

A great sigh went up from eleven throats. That was all of us.

"We've nothing that size, Miss Gruntwurvy," said Clit. "She'll need a custom 
job. Can she come back after school for three nights?"

"Make it five," said Flaps.

"Five it is," said Clit.

The two women were rubbing their hips and thighs together in 
anticipation of five nights with (arguably) the biggest unwheelbarrowed 
breasts in the entire school.

"Right, then. Start tonight, Annie, all right?"

"Yes, Miss," she said mournfully.

"We'll be gentle wiv you, Annie," Clit assured her.





Part V





Chapter 13:- The New Project


I found myself hurrying back to the main block after that episode with the 
tape measures in the bra manufacturing facility. I knew Anna-Maria had 
become huge, but seeing her with her breasts dangling over the edge of a 
five-foot high table, and swinging only inches above the floor, I realised 
just how big she had become.

Five days to make a bra? Even a mammoth SBSMXXCW9. Ridiculous! I 
would tell Moggie that as well, when Smegs and I went in to do our 
punishment tonight. I had so many tales to tell the headmistress. Illicit 
relationships between the seamstresses were bad enough, but when the 
girls became involved as well, it was a bit much.

Before then, though, I had one more class. I stopped outside the Third 
Form classroom and smoothed down my rumpled clothing. I had dressed in 
a hurry. In fact, I had left the bra manufacturing facility naked, and had to 
go back for my clothes when I realised how cold it was outside. Not one of 
the girls saw fit to remind me, of course.

I had found Clit and Flaps in the middle of a reconciliation.

I coughed politely. "Just came back to get dressed," I murmured. "Don't let 
me stop you."

They both squealed in ectsasy and rushed over to me. It's quite a luxurious 
feeling, being dressed by two naked, busty young women. Their fingernails 
trailed across my fevered skin, and I felt little wet kisses planted en 
passant on various parts. I finally emerged looking like a sack of rather 
large potatoes.


**********

The class went silent when I entered.

"Right, girls. The subject for today is, as you are all aware, Blushing 
Prettily."

Little cries of 'oooh' went up, and there were soft squeaking noises as the 
girls wriggled their magnificently plump little bottoms on their chairs.

"Now. There are two types of blushing. Anyone?"

"Prettily, Miss."

"Thank you, Gwendolyn. Good to see you're paying attention. Any others?"

"Embarrassment, Miss. Like Gwendolyn is doing now!"

"Excellent. Stand up, Gwendolyn." She rose to her feet, bright scarlet. "Take 
a good look at her, class. Note the lowered eyes and the wriggling. Thank 
you, sit down. Now, I need a girl to demonstrate the other sort. Toria, 
stand, please."

Victoria stood up, grinning around her.

"Golly, Toria," I said in some surprise, you're even bigger than you were 
this morning!"

She blushed prettily.

"That's fine. See the colour as it spreads down the neck to the upper curves 
of the breasts? Just a couple of buttons, please, Toria ..."

She unbuttoned the top three, and the class craned its necks to see the 
pink glow of her big, wobbling boobies. She *was* bigger than she had 
been this morning! And how did she make them jiggle like that?

"Note also the lower lip. Toria is biting it gently with the upper front teeth. 
She is lowering the eyes very slightly. Just enough! This is an excellent 
ploy to use with the pretty blush. And those of you who are next to her, 
what about her feet, anyone?"

"Toes turned inwards, Miss?"

"That's right," I intoned, striding to the front of the class and turning to 
face them. "The toes are turned inwards." I demonstrated the toes and 
lower lip biting for the class, and they giggled.

"There's one other thing you can't actually see, anyone?"

There was silence as the class stared at me and Toria in turn.

"Come on, now! Nobody have an answer? Theresa? Nesta?"

Nesta blushed fiercely behind her thick glasses. On her desk lay her 
notebook in which she made a note of rude words which she would later 
enter into the database of words which were not allowed to pass the 
school's firewall into the computer network. She shook her head.

"How about 'wet', Nesta?"

"Oooh, Miss!" Nesta scribbled the word in her notepad. "That's disgusting, 
Miss!"

"Disgusting, perhaps, but very much a fact of life." I wrote the word in 
large letters on the blackboard before turning to face them again. "Class! 
Victoria is getting wet! Anyone near her care to confirm that? Don't all 
RUSH!"

A stampede had broken out to get closer to Victoria. They stopped in a 
rough circle around her, pawing the ground.

"Gwendolyn, you may check for us."

Gwendolyn squealed in delight at being selected. She checked, and 
emerged, rubbing her fingers together. The rest of the class laughed.

"Yes, Miss. She's soaked."

"Soaked?"

"Sopping, Miss. Drenched!"

"Good girl. Don't be afraid of using alternative or additional words. Did you 
get all of those, Nesta?"

"Yes, Miss. And 'moist', 'dripping', 'squelchy' and 'saturated'."

"Those are lovely ones, Nesta. Well done. Thank you, Toria, button your 
blouse and sit down."

She complied with an audible splats!, and the girls around her giggled.

"Toria, stand up again! Thank you. There you see the embarrassed blush. 
As you see, not the same thing at all. Thank you, Toria!" 


**********

Victoria caught my elbow as I followed the girls out of the classroom.

"That wasn't very nice, Miss. I mean, thanks for making my breasts seem 
even bigger than they were this morning. It's this bra, Miss, by the way. 
But making me embarrassed, and sopping wet. That was bang out of 
order."

"It's swings and roundabouts, Toria. Some you win, some you lose. Don't 
forget, knickers in the basket as soon as you get to the dorm! See you later 
..."

And I was off, leaving her staring after me open-mouthed.

Smegs was already in Moggie's office when I knocked and walked in. Our 
thighs touched when I sat next to her, and she didn't pull away, which was 
a promising sign, at least.

"Sorry, Miss. I had Third Form Blushing."

"No problem, Shan. I bet they've all gone off to change their knickers after 
that."

"They'd better," growled Smegs, just like her old self.

"Yes, you should get a good crop of Type 'A' out of them. Some 'B' as well, if 
my nose didn't deceive me."

"Oh, well DONE, Chauntaille!" Moggie was in an excellent mood. She must 
have been laid at lunchtime. "Right, now listen up." God, she'd been 
listening to contemporary music as well. Smegs nudged me and it was all I 
could do to stop myself burying my face in her steaming snatch. Moggie 
was still talking.

"... let you off the punishment. You have learned your lesson, I am sure, 
and I am not a vindictive old woman. I am not an old woman at all. Not 
after this lunchtime ..." she gathered her thoughts. "Where was I? Yes, 
Megan. Your Lower Sixths want to make a film. I chanced to meet the 
camera crew at lunchtime..."

Both of them?

"... and we discussed, among other things ..."

I bet you did.

"... the proposal to make a film of a girl whose breasts grow dramatically. I 
suggested a meeting tomorrow. The camera crew have arranged to stay in 
a nearby hotel tonight. I may see them later..."

You probably will, yes.

"... and will discuss having a meeting here in the morning. You two should 
attend, and the two associate producers, Pubella and Gudrun. Among other 
things, we need a flat-chested girl who will be expanded during the course 
of the film ..."

"But, Miss," I broke in, "is that wise, in view of all the expansions we've 
had recently?"

"We won't be expanding her. Remember, here in my drawer, we have the 
Biggest Breasts in the World!" She slid the drawer open and produced 
Shaynette's monster artificial bosom, still slightly inflated. She must have 
been trying it on herself. Either Moggie or Miss Labia. "So, there's no need 
to expand a girl in real life. Shan. A Junior would be most suitable for the 
role. Can you find an innocent-looking one?"

That wouldn't be so easy. Most of the Juniors looked about as innocent as 
Kings Cross streetwalkers. I thought about it for a while.

"No, Miss!"

"No, I supposed not. Well, an almost innocent one would do. Perhaps she 
could put her thumb in her mouth and stand with her toes turned inwards. 
One of the Drama Group. We still have a Drama Group, don't we?"

"I think so, Miss."

"Good, that's settled then. She's got to be absolutely flat, remember. In her 
first few scenes she's got to be naked. Topless, at least."

"What about the British Board of Film Censors, Miss?"

"What about them, Chauntaille?"

It was no use arguing with Moggie sometimes. "Nothing, never mind," I 
said.

"Right," she peered at her watch. "Shit, is that the time? Off you go, and 
have your tea, or whatever you're going to have. See you both in here at 
ten sharp."


**********

"Whatever happened to Ten Sharp?" Smegs rubbed against me sinuously 
as we walked along the corridor with our arms around each other.

"What?"

"Never mind." Her tongue slid into my mouth and passing girls giggled 
happily at the sight of two of their teachers so obviously enjoying 
themselves. 

"Let's go and have our tea, or whatever," I purred in my huskiest voice. We 
were undressed and in Smegs's new double bed within thirty seconds.

Behind us, on the stairs, girls were collecting up stray items of underwear 
and dipping their fingers cautiously into the dribbles of moisture I had 
inadvertently sprayed on the walls.


**********

We did have our tea afterwards. Supper, it was, actually, but it was hardly 
worth getting out of bed, so I ran to the restaurant and grabbed a few 
handfuls of food before scooting back to Smegs again.

"Anyone see you?" she said.

"What do you mean?"

"You weren't wearing any clothes."

"Oh, shit, Smegs, you could have SAID."

"I shouldn't think it matters a lot. The whole of St Cat's knows what we've 
been doing, the noise you've been making. You're getting louder, Shan, 
darling!"

"Am I?" I bellowed at her, and dived in once more.

She's not so quiet herself!


**********

We were up bright and early, and took breakfast together in the 
restaurant. Perhaps we should have showered first, but the girls probably 
understood. Some of them moved away to more distant tables, but I did 
see some of the Juniors fighting for the privilege of getting a table right 
next to ours and immediately downwind. Obviously they were overdue for 
their first lessons in The Role of the Five Senses in Lovemaking.

We were clean and scrubbed by ten o' clock, though; having shared a 
shower cubicle, a loofah and a sponge. The loofah seemed to disappear 
after a few minutes, but no doubt it would turn up eventually.

Moggie did the introductions.

"Shan, you've met Martin and Bob: Megan, this is Martin, and this is Bob. 
Our film crew. That's it, we all know each other. The two Sixth Formers, 
Pubella and Gudrun sat thigh to naked thigh in microscopically 
abbreviated skirts and their ScatBras hoisted to just above the horizontal. 
They nodded to me, looking as if butter wouldn't melt either in their 
mouths - or any other of their all too readily-accessible orifices.

"Did you find a flat-chested girl, Chauntaille?"

"Not yet, Miss. We were otherwise engaged last night."

"We'll find you one, Miss," Pubella chirped brightly. "Young and innocent? 
Flat chest? Goes like a train, Miss?"

I didn't know about the last requirement, but the rest of her sounded okay 
to me. I nodded to Moggie and she agreed.

"Thank you, Pubella. Bring her along here after the meeting and we'll vet 
her."

Sounded painful. I wondered if it was anything like what mother had done 
to the cat.

And after that, the two girls and the camera crew got into a deep and 
meaningful discussion on scripts and treatments and outlines and above 
and below the line costs and stuff like that. I nodded off, and Smegs woke 
me with a probing hand. I sat up with a jerk. No-one had missed me.

I wasn't comfortable, somehow. An itchy sensation, down there. Not the 
usual one, which meant I needed a good Smegging, or even a stiff cock, but 
a more nagging feeling.

Only when the meeting broke up, at lunchtime, and Smegs and I dashed 
back to bed for a quickie before the drudgery of afternoon classes, did the 
reason come to light.

"Oooh, look, Shan, my sweet! I just found the loofah!"





Chapter 14:- Pubella Comes Good


"We brought the star, Miss."

"Sorry, Pubella?"

"The star of the film, Miss, this is Abi." She stood aside and a miniscule girl 
appeared. She had been standing there the whole time.

"Abi? Aren't you in the Second Form?" 

"Yes, Miss. Abi Goodyear."

"Not Dunlop," said Gudrun with a snigger. "Although she's going to be a 
walking advert for rubber by the time we finish shooting this epic."

She certainly fitted the part. Her chest, inside her starched blouse, was not 
calculated to trouble the bra-makers. Her face, if not entirely innocent, 
possessed a certain wide-eyed charm. Her hair was long and blonde, and 
she frequently had to flick it away from her face. Smegs used to have this 
habit but she had grown out of it now. Perhaps because of the association 
with Smegs, I found it quite alluring. Abi did it again and I became almost 
turned on. She smelled nice, too; not at all cheesy, like most Junior girls, 
but a fresh scent of springtime flowers.

Stop it, Shan, I rebuked myself sharply. You are unnecessarily horny of 
late. Perhaps what you need to cure you is another damned good knobbing. 
It had been almost a week since Villiers! 

"Are you feeling all right, Miss?"

"Sorry, Pubella. Did you say something?"

"I asked if you were feeling all right. You went all quiet and your eyes 
glazed over."

"I'm perfectly all right, thank you. Take ... take Abi to Miss Mountains and 
show her, no, better still, go to Miss Thunderbolt's office. Ask Miss Labia if 
it's all right to see the headmistress."

"All right, Miss. Miss Thunderbolt is in there with the camera crew. We 
know, 'cos we're seeing them later, after school." She winked. She actually 
winked! What was St Cat's coming to, girls getting laid after school. In the 
woods, probably.

"In the woods?" I asked, without really meaning to. It sort of slipped out.

"Nah, too wet. In the caretaker's shed. We've got a booking for the bed. 
Two hours, Miss."

"Three," said Gudrun. "I changed it to three. Six till nine."

"Fine, I can make it last. Are you coming, Miss?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"To the shed. There's plenty of room. And we won't be using the crew the 
whole time, we like to get off with each other now and then, so there'll 
always be one spare for you ..."

"Absolutely not! I have never heard of such a thing!"

"Suit yourself, Miss. We can get Miss Mountains instead, can't we, Pubes?"

"Yeah, no trouble. She said she fancied that Bob Martin."

"See ya later, then, Miss!"

And they were gone. I went to my own little narrow bed and had a good 
old cry.


**********

"Shan? You in here?"

"Go away."

I felt her hand on my shoulder. I wished it didn't feel quite so nice.

"I'll put the light on, mind out for your eyes."

The light came on and I buried my head deeper in the pillow. Smegs 
stroked my hair and I moved my head slightly to get away from her hand. 
I felt her hankie brush my cheek. "It's all right. Tell Auntie Smegs all about 
it."

So I did.

"Those little bastards," she said fiercely. "I'll kill them!"

"Smegs, don't go! Where are you going?"

"I won't be long. Wash your face. See you around six. My room." And she 
was gone. No point in crying any more. So I sat up. It was twenty minutes 
to six. Twenty minutes later, feeling not much better, I was in Smegs's 
room trying to watch her television. It seemed to be a programme about 
schoolkids. Strange kids, they were, a school with boys as well as girls, yet 
they didn't seem to spend their every waking hour trying to climb into 
each other's pants. I watched it with growing impatience.

"Hi, she's here, come on in. I'll put this nosh into some dishes, get your 
coats off..."

Smegs bustled off and I stood up, blinking. "Lo, Shan," said Bob. "Smegs 
said you were feeling lonely, so we thought you'd fancy an evening in."

"Oh? Oh, lovely!"

"Chinese all right, kid?" Smegs came in from the little room that served as 
a makeshift kitchen area. She piled dishes on the low table and we all 
squatted on the floor. 

"We got a banquet for eight," said Martin. "In case you were as hungry as 
we were." He passed me a prawn cracker, one of those things made of fish-
flavoured expanded polystyrene.

Smegs looked at me closely, and grinned a secret little grin. We all dipped 
into the dishes.

"Shit, I forgot the beer!" Bob got up. "Can I find my own way out of here to 
the car park?"

"Down the stairs, turn right, on your left outside the double doors."

"Back in a minute. Keep my cushion warm, Shan."

"They'll all be double doors soon, the way we're going," said Smegs. "The 
builders are doing the dorms this week. It's hard enough getting a big girl 
through, let alone a wheelbarrow."

"How many girls are using wheelbarrows?" said Martin.

"Only two, but I think it will catch on. Anna-Maria wants one. She's the girl 
that exploded out of her shirt on the stage."

"I should think she does need one. I never saw anything like it. It was all 
we could do to keep filming with that going on."

"We measured her yesterday," I said. "A hundred and forty inch bust!"

"I don't believe it. I mean, what's yours?"

I blushed prettily. "Ten feet. It doesn't sound quite as outrageous as a 
hundred and twenty inches."

We had to tell him the whole story of our tits, and how they grew at first. 
Bob brought the cold beers, and the banquet for eight gradually dwindled 
to a pile of empties. "Toss them in that sack, Mar," said Smegs. "No, not that 
one. You wouldn't like what's in there."

I lay back with my head in Bob's lap, and he stroked my neck. I could tell 
he wanted to feel lower down, but he was too shy. It took a bit of 
organising, but at last, I sat up and altered my position, my head against 
his shoulder, and my right breast flopped on to his arm. Get yourself out of 
that, I thought. He didn't try, and once he did move his hand - he'd 
probably got pins and needles - I gave such a moan and rubbed myself 
against him, he seemed to get the message.

Of course, by then, the conversation had died away completely, and when I 
chanced to glance over at Smegs and Martin, they were well away on the 
rug. So I suggested to Bob that we got ourselves more comfortable, and 
that was when my shirt came unbuttoned right the way down to the waist.

Enough of this. Why should I tell what we did? I got one surprise, though. 
Bob had nothing to be shy about, unless he was worried in case he scared 
me with it!

Anyway, it fitted beautifully, as if it had been made for the job: although 
as all my friends know, I am EXTREMELY accommodating.


**********

They left our room quite early in the morning, before the girls were up 
and about.

"What happened last night, Smegs? Pubella and Gudrun said they had a 
date with Bob and Martin."

"I persuaded them it would be better if they changed their minds. They 
listened to reason in the end."

"What did you say to them?"

"It doesn't matter. It worked." I had crawled into her bed as soon as Bob 
had left. "How are the knees?"

I rubbed my knees a little ruefully. "Recovering. These hardwearing carpet 
tiles are all right, but they aren't best for getting doggied. Sorry about the 
rug, by the way. I hung it on the radiator to dry."

"Something told me you had," she said. "What happened to it?"

"I squirted all over it. After the third lot, it got so wet we had to get off it 
on to the carpet. It is washable though."

"We'll leave it on the radiator for now. It smells nice!" She's a funny girl 
about smells, is Smegs.

Martin and Bob said nothing at all when we all met up in Moggie's office. 
Nor did the subdued Sixth Form girls, who looked at us with a mixture of 
hatred, envy and sheer terror. The star was in there as well, smelling just 
as nice as the day before. And the decision was made that the two 
associate producers would go away and write the whole story by the 
weekend, we would fax it to the crew for approval, and we would start 
shooting on the following Monday. 

Outside, in the corridor, Smegs and I spoke to the crew. They had gone 
back to their hotel for breakfast and a freshen-up before coming back to 
the school for the meeting. We stopped talking for a moment as Pubella 
and Gudrun hurried past, studiously looking the other way. Then the 
corridor was quiet, and we even had time for a goodbye kiss from Bob and 
Martin before they went off. We stood by Smegs's window and watched as 
their car slipped away up the drive.

"Thanks for everything, Smegs, darling. I know you did all that just to 
cheer me up!"

"Well, most of it, yes. But it was nice to have a good screw again. It was 
Christmas week, my last time."

"With all those people, remember?"

"I didn't sleep with them all," she protested. "Well, only twelve of them. 
And I thought the little Irish one was best. The one that sucked. What was 
her name again?"

"Megan."

"No, that's my name."

"Megan," I insisted. "Fuck me again, please, right now!"

She can never resist gentle sweet-talk. We were late for our next classes.


**********

"Quiet please on the set! Lose those house lights somebody. All ready, Mar? 
Bob?"

Pubella wanted to direct. She had the right sort of voice to make herself 
heard across a crowded studio, classless, received pronunciation with 
slightly flattened vowels giving away her parents' Northern origins. The 
voice of a girl whose parents had more disposable income than was good 
for them.

"Lights, then. Turn over, please. Can I have absolute silence. And ... action!"

Abi, discovered in bed in a darkened dormitory, woke and sat up, saw the 
sunlight streaming in through the window, reacted, rubbed her eyes, said, 
"oh, fuck it," and lay back down again.

"Cut," shrieked Pubella. "She's forgotten her lines. Abi, darling. You wake 
up, you sit up in bed, you see the sunlight, you react, rub your eyes and 
repeat after me ..."

"Repeat after you ..."

"Ughh!"

"Ughh!"

"That's it. Not too hard to remember, is it? Right, let's go again. Ready 
everyone. Stand by. Turn over, Mar, darling! And ... action!"

Again, Abi went through her routine. This time, she got the words right, 
and didn't say, "oh, fuck it" until she had said "Ughh!" and couldn't 
remember what she was supposed to do next.

"We can use that as far as it went." said Martin. "We'll shoot a cutaway of 
the clock or something. If you carry on to the next scene, Abi will soon get 
into the swing of it, won't you, sweetheart?"

Abi nodded gratefully and prepared for her next bit of action, where she 
stretched, showing a featureless chest beneath her new Marks and Sparks 
nightie, and crawled out of bed.

I could stand no more of this. I slipped out of the commandeered dorm and 
down the corridor to my room. "How's it going," said Smegs, coming round 
the corner with two enormous sacks over her shoulders. "Last weeks 
knickers," she explained unnecessarily. "Can I leave them in your room, 
mine's full."

"Full of what, knickers?"

"No, I've got Martin's and Bob's gear in there. They're not booking in to the 
hotel until they know how well they get on today. I thought they might 
like to stay the night."

"Oh, all right." I stood to one side and Smegs dumped the sacks on my bed. 
I would swear they were moving. "Is there something alive in there?"

"No, it's just the steam pressure building up. They're not a bad batch. Many 
more pairs like that and we can bump the price up another ten per cent! 
Have they done the bit with the tits yet?"

"No, they were still on the first scene, where she gets up. They've got the 
washroom sequence, the toilet, dressing ..."

"Toilet? You mean we see her having a sh ..."

"No! What sort of film do you think this is! No, we see her go into the toilet 
cubicle and close the door. Then some other girls come in and start 
discussing the way they all have breasts but little Abi doesn't. They don't 
know she's listening, you see."

"Gosh, I see! Do we hear her, then?"

"Hear who?"

"Abi. She's doing a jobbie in the bog. Do we hear anything. Splashes or 
anything?"

"Of course not. What would be the point of that?"

"Realism. These other girls would get suspicious if they were in the room 
and there was a girl in the bogs and absolute silence. There ought to be 
farts and things. Ask your Bob!"

"Oh, Smegs! You are disgusting. It's those knickers that have this effect on 
you. And he's not my Bob."

"No, you just fuck each other occasionally. And very loudly, Shan-tail! I 
still think Abi ought to fart. You don't need her to do it for real, you can 
record the sounds and put them in afterwards. Like this."

She performed a credible farting noise with her mouth on her bare arm, 
then produced a groan.

"What was that for?"

"Just a bit of accent. Why shouldn't she groan as well. Absolute silence for 
a few seconds, then she could strain a bit, then a fart, a groan, and a 
socking great splash! Then the girls would giggle, make some rude 
comment about the air quality, and run out. I ought to have written this 
script. I've experienced life."

"It's not a film about the toilet habits of schoolgirls. The scene only takes 
place in the loo so that Abi can overhear the conversation. It's a device."

"So's farting and splashing. That's a device that says there's a girl in the 
bogs having a dump. If you don't tell Bob, I will."





Chapter 15:- We've All Got To Grow Sometime


They shot the toilet scene in the afternoon. Abi came in, carrying her 
sponge bag; her towel over her shoulder. She inspected herself critically in 
one of the full length mirrors, provided by a thoughtful management for 
the girls to see what was happening in that mysterious area below their 
waists. She disappeared into the cubicle and locked the door.

A gaggle of busty girls came in. The pick of the larger Juniors, they 
included Suzanne, Pansy and Victoria. They held an animated conversation 
while inspecting themselves in the mirror. Suddenly, they all cracked up, 
leaning against each other and giggling helplessly.

"Hold it, what's the matter?" Pubella yelled.

"It was Abi," said Pansy. "She let one go!"

"She what?"

"She farted, Pubes," said Victoria.

"Abi! Can't you keep quiet in there. You're supposed to be listening."

"I tried, but I farted. Sorry!"

"All right, go again!"

"What, from the top, Pubes?"

"Mar?"

Martin sighed. "No, from the point where the girls come in. We'll shoot a 
close up of the door lock changing from 'vacant' to 'engaged'."

Again the girls came in, chattering. The scene was going well. It was alive. 
Even when Abi farted again, they carried on without laughing too much. It 
was the splash that stopped them in their tracks. It was a truly thunderous 
splash, like a hippopotamus leaping into a watering hole. SPALLOSHHHH! 
Slowly, the red-faced girls helped each other to their feet. Pubella 
hammered on the cubicle door. Sheepishly, Abi opened it. The cast reeled 
back several paces.

"Fuckin' hell, Ab!"

"Wowee!"

"Jeez, Abi, what have you been EATING?"

"Sorry, Pubes. As soon as I sat down, I wanted to go. I haven't been for 
three days ... Well, I hadn't. I've been now!"

"I can tell that, Abi," shouted Pubella from the far side of the room. "We'd 
better give it five minutes and try again. Make it ten."

"'Scuse me, Pubes."

"What is it this time?"

Abi whispered something.

"I can't hear you from over here!"

"Well, come over here, then."

"You gotta be joking."

She whispered again, a bit louder.

"Oh, Abi!" Pubella's voice rang out throught the echoing toilets. "Can 
somebody bring her a roll of PAPER, please!"

I decided it was as good a time as any to leave them to it. Smegs had got 
her ripe sound effects one way or the other. And probably better than any 
simulation. It was all there, including the groan, and the reactions of the 
girls was spontaneous and totally authentic.

I gave her the full story and she brightened immediately. "We'll have some 
nice Type 'C' stains, then?"

"Well, no, not exactly. She wasn't wearing any knickers. She was in her 
M&S nightie, and nothing else."

"Typical bloody Juniors, going to bed without knickers. Absolute disgrace!"

They wrapped after the following scene was shot. The chattering girls with 
the improbable breasts charged out of the toilets and their yelling voices 
dwindled out of earshot. A few seconds later, Abi emerged, pale-faced and 
about nine pounds lighter, and washed her hands. Well, you have to set the 
right example, don't you.


**********

They did manage a few more shots during the next few days. On the 
Wednesday afternoon, I dropped in and found them shooting a scene in a 
classroom. "What happens in this one?" I asked Suzanne who was waiting 
for her turn to sit at a desk and look surprised.

"This is the first enlargement scene," she whispered. "Abi is in class and 
she feels a tingling in her chest, and when she looks at herself, she's 
grown."

"Is she wearing the inflatable breasts under her blouse now?"

"Not yet, Miss. She's not going to be very big in this one. Just like little 
bumps. They're going to shoot her from another angle and they'll be there."

"When's she going to wear the Biggest Tits in the World?"

"Tomorrow. Goodie wants to see them inflating!"

"What, just like that? Before your very eyes?"

"Yeah!"

"Gosh!"

**********

"What did she want?" Pansy asked her cousin.

She was asking about the Biggest Breasts in the World."

"What did you tell her?"

"Tomorrow."

"Will the mixture have worked by then?"

"Probably. If we spray her tonight. She'll start to grow overnight."

"I can hardly wait," said Pansy. "We haven't done any enlarging for 
months!"

"Well, we know the stuff works. That business with the choir ..."

"We still don't know who did that."

"I've got a good idea. It was those cows from the Fifths."

"Yeah, but why?"

"Maybe they wanted to get some tits of their own, but it went wrong. 
Anyway, this won't go wrong. We'll get Abi when she's changing after this 
shoot. She's shy, so she changes her shirt in the bogs."

"I'm not going anywhere near the bog if she's in there. There's something 
wrong with her insides. I can still taste it from Monday."

"I'll just give it a quick in and out. Ten seconds, a smell of strawberries, 
and Bob's your uncle."

"He's not, is he?"


**********

"I want to see her getting bigger," said Gudrun obstinately.

"You will, I keep telling you. We'll blow her tits up a bit more each time we 
shoot her."

"No, Pubes, I want to watch her tits grow. We look at her and she grows. 
Like a balloon."

"Breasts don't grow like that. It's gradual. Ours took all day to reach this 
size!"

"I still want to see them grow. It's more exciting."

"There's something wrong with you. What's exciting about it?"

"I dunno. It just is. I've always been excited by balloons. If someone blows 
up a balloon, I get all wet."

"You do?"

"There's nothing wrong with that. You get wet sometimes."

"Not when people blow balloons up. Anyway, we can't. You have to pump 
these breasts up with a pump."

"We could have a hose connected to them."

"Goodie, how could we connect a hose to the girl. You'd see it."

"Let's ask Mar."

So they did. Martin looked at Gudrun a bit strangely, but shrugged his 
shoulders and said, yes, you could shoot her with the hose passing under 
her arms and beneath the desk. Her tits could blow up quite quickly that 
way. If that was what was wanted.

Yes, insisted Gudrun, it was.

It was quite simple in the end. Jeremy was called for and he arranged for 
an electric pump to be placed outside the window, with a long hose leading 
to the Biggest Breasts in the World, hidden beneath Abi's arm, inside her 
blouse.

Ten minutes it took, and they were ready for a test. The breasts slowly 
grew in size. You couldn't even hear the pump.

"Right, let them down." Pubella yelled. "Right, listen! We'll do this one 
where her breasts start growing. Instead of stopping after you feel them, 
Abi, carry on, and the camera will truck round to the other side, and you 
will start getting even bigger. Happy?" 

Everybody said they were happy. "Did you let those things down, Abi?"

"Yes, Pubes, but ..."

"Good. Ready with the pump, Jeremy? Switch it on when I say so. Juice 
'em! Roll, and ... wait for it. Action!"

Suzanne nudged Pansy and pointed. The two kids hugged each other in 
delight.

Abi started to feel her chest. A worried look came over her face and 
Pubella smiled at Gudrun and they exchanged silent high fives. The kid 
was acting! At last! 'Ready with the pump,' she mouthed, and Jeremy gave 
a thumbs up. As soon as Pubella pointed, he switched on.

The crew and audience watched spellbound as Abi's shirt began to look 
tighter. It was barely perceptible, and Gudrun was on the verge of telling 
Pubella to start the scene again when there was a ripple beneath Abi's 
blouse. A big ripple. A just audible gasp ran round the classroom.

It even affected me. What an incredibly erotic sight, I thought. Abi was 
getting bigger by the second. Her breasts had reached apple size, and she 
was still stroking them with both hands, although an even more anxious 
expression was by now on her face. Oranges, grapefruit.

Abi's blouse was straining now. Pubella signalled Jeremy to stop the pump, 
putting up her hand ready to shout cut. But something was wrong. Jeremy 
was shaking his head vigorously and jiggling the switch. Still Abi 
expanded. She had melons up her blouse, pineapples!

Martin looked up at Pubella in alarm, but she wasn't paying attention, so 
he shrugged and carried on shooting. The camera move complete, he was 
now viewing from the window side of Abi, and keeping a close lookout for 
any sign of the hose. No fear of that, he thought, she's so big now, you 
could hide a fire hose under those things. Why couldn't that bloody 
director follow the script? The kid will split her shirt in a minute.

Wronggg! It wasn't a minute. Abi's expression changed to horror as her 
blouse bulged more dangerously, then started to creak as the seams down 
the sides gave up the unequal struggle. Jeremy jiggled the pump switch 
one more time, then threw it away and darted out of the back of the room, 
on his way outside. Gudrun was open-mouthed in a silent scream. Her 
fingers were a blur beneath her skirt.

Watermelons. Pumpkins! Abi's breasts were bigger even than Shaynette's 
had been. I was expecting her to start rising into the air at any moment. 
They bulged out of the top of her blouse as three buttons ripped undone. 
The girl's St Cat's tie slowly levitated to the horizontal as the latex breasts 
grew and grew.

All around the room, nervous watchers were seeking shelter behind 
substantial objects. Martin, feeling safe behind the camera, glanced up 
from the viewfinder and saw an explosion getting ready to happen. He 
cringed behind the viewfinder again, and felt a little safer. Bob didn't. He 
sank behind a desk, cowering down so that only his microphone peeped 
over the top, ready to record the devastation of Abi. Poor child, so small, so 
fragile. Smithereened in the cause of an inflation fetish.

Her vast pink breasts were capped with pointy plastic nipples. The blouse 
material was no match for these, and they ripped their way through into 
the open air, closely followed by absurdly large areolae and great fat tits. 
They were getting greater and fatter by the second now they were no 
longer constrained by the crisp white cotton.

Jeremy nearly made it in time. As he reached the pump battery and 
yanked the leads off the terminals, he heard a dull thump from inside the 
classroom, followed by a scream. I saw his face appear at the window as he 
tried to see what had happened.

"Cut!" said Pubella, weakly.

Abi was sobbing, the remains of her blouse lying in shreds on the desk. 
The Biggest Breasts in the World had lasted well, but a split had appeared 
beneath the left breast. A simple enough repair.

The girl rested her head in her arms, crying piteously. "Help her out of the 
Biggest Breasts in the World, somebody," called the director, and Suzanne 
and Pansy darted forward.

"Sit up, Abi," said Pansy.

"Let's get that off you," said Suzanne. They released the apparatus, which, 
for the initial clothed scene had not been glued on. Pansy placed the 
Biggest Breasts in the World on an adjacent desk, and gave a giggle that 
she managed to turn into a gasp. It merged with all the other gasps that 
filled the room.

"That's what I was trying to tell you, Pubes," Abi said at last. "I've got tits 
of my own!"


**********

She certainly had. When the two First Formers helped Abi to her feet, the 
whole crew could see that she had a splendid pair of melons on her chest. 
Firm and plump, they swelled out almost horizontally in front of her, with 
erect nipples crowning them, perched on top of the sort of great big puffy 
areolae that tend to suggest there's a good bit of growing still to be done 
around here.

"Hey, *they're* nice ones, Ab!" 

"Cor, you've got some whoppers, Abi," enthused Pansy. "You didn't need 
that pump really, did you?"

"No," said Abi, utterly confused. "Where did I get these, Suze? Pan?"

"We've all got to grow sometime," said Suzanne.


**********

They all looked at me. So, I was a teacher. It was nothing to do with me. 
But they obviously expected me to do something.

"You'd better call it a day, Mar," I told him, but Martin was already 
unmounting the camera from the tripod. Bob was disconnecting leads.

"That's a wrap, Pubella," Bob called, and Pubella, stunned, could only nod.

"Come on, you lot," I held out my arms to Abi and the two First Formers. 
"Let's find you some clothes, shall we?" I led them out of the classroom and 
upstairs to the dormitories. Abi was still shivering with the shock of it all. 
Even Suzanne and Pansy had run out of words.

"Can I go to the loo, Miss?" Abi had screeched to a halt by the doors to the 
toilet area. "It's an emergency!"

"Go on, then. Do forgive us if we don't come with you." Abi shot into the 
toilets and we heard the distant slam of a cubicle door.

Pansy shook her head, sadly. "There's something wrong with her insides, 
Miss. I told Suzanne."

"She's had a nasty shock, Pan," I said. It was nearly ten minutes when we 
heard sounds of life from the toilets, and then there was a scream. "Abi? 
What's the matter?"

She appeared, white and shaking. "I saw myself in the mirror, Miss. I'm 
huge!"

"Not all of you. The rest is still tiny. Just your boobs are huge." Abi was still 
getting used to having boobs, so she didn't even blush, although I bet she 
could blush as prettily as any of them once she'd had a bit of practice.

"Come on, then." I placed my hand on the girl's bare back and guided her 
into the First Form dormitory. How many more times was I going to go 
through this routine?

"She's about your size, Pan. Can you find her a bra and a blouse, please?" 
Pansy scrabbled in her drawers and found the items. Abi held up the bra 
helplessly.

"Which way up does it go, Miss?" The weight of the thing became too much 
for her arms and they flopped down, setting her boobs in violent motion.

The two girls helped her stop them bouncing, before they broke something. 
They got her into the bra, and even showed her how to squeeze the cups to 
activate the self adjustment mechanism. "Gosh," she said at last. The first 
experience with a well-fitting ScatBra always made its wearer say 'Gosh'.

"Golly," she elaborated, buttoning Pansy's blouse across her jutting bosom. 
"Look at these things!" Then a preoccupied expression came over her face. 
"Whoops! Got to go again, Miss!" She left rubber as she shot out of the door 
and hurtled into the toilets.

"What is the matter with that girl?" said Pansy.


**********

I was awakened by a noise. What was it? There, again. Someone knocking 
on the door.

I elbowed Smegs and she snorted and made a noise like a dog drinking. 
"Whaddya want? Oh, Shan! Not again, darling!"

"No. Well, later, perhaps. There's someone at the door."

"Answer it, then, you idle cow." She turned her face away.

"I can't answer it, it's *your* room. It's *your* bed!"

She muttered something about me being such a stickler for protocol, and I 
could always sleep in my own bed if I felt that way, couldn't I? But she got 
up, scratching her hair and her crotch, and went to the door. "Who's 
there?"

"Miss? Miss Gruntworthy. Is that you?"

"No, it's Miss Mountains. Miss Gruntworthy's room is next door."

"Is she in there? Please, Miss?"

"Who is it?"

"It's Abi, Miss. Please. It's an emergency!"




Part VI





Chapter 16:- Visitor By Night


Smegs let her in. The girl crept through the door, and stood just inside, 
peering around in the shaded light of the bedside lamp. I ducked down 
under the duvet and hoped to disappear. "Shan? It's for you," said Smegs. 
And she got back into bed. She actually got back into bed. 

I emerged from the bed covers and peered at the girl. "Abi? You shouldn't 
be up here. This is out of bounds. What's the matter?"

"I've got bigger again, Miss. Look!"

She stepped out of the shadows. She was wearing the M&S nightie she had 
been given for the film. The last time I had seen her wearing it, she had 
been lost in it. It was like a tent on her. I thought, that's the trouble of 
sending a man to buy a nightie for a little girl. Now, though, as I could see, 
the thing wasn't nearly big enough. I swung my legs out of the bed to take 
a closer look at her. Abi looked at my nakedness with interest.

"Gosh, Miss, you're fantastic!"

It was really a waste of time blushing prettily in semi-darkness, but I 
thought I'd better do it, just in case.

Abi's breasts, which had been full and firm when she had loaded them into 
Pansy's bra earlier that afternoon were now a whole lot fuller and heavier. 
The overburdened nightie sloped outwards from just below her shoulders, 
and was still sloping out for some way past her waist.

"Come here, Abi," I told her, and she came willingly to the side of the bed. I 
could feel the heat being radiated from her breasts. "When did all this 
happen?"

"I woke up, and it was about midnight. I had to go to the loo again."

"Of course."

"And when I reached the door, I thought, this doesn't feel right, but I 
guessed it was because I wasn't used to them without a bra, but when I 
got to the bogs - sorry, Miss - the toilet, I had my shit, and wiped my 
bottom ..."

I would have been happier with a little less of the intimate detail.

"... and it was *ever* such a good one, but then, after I'd flushed it away, I 
came out and saw the mirror, and I thought, bloody hell. Sorry, Miss!"

"No, no, Abi! I think it was quite a reasonable comment under the 
circumstances."

"And I lifted up my nightie to have a look at them. Like this, Miss."

She demonstrated, hoisting the nightie up in front. "Bloody hell," I gasped. 
"Those are some serious tits, Abi! Thanks, you can put your nightie down 
now."

"Shit, Miss, they're still growing!" She was staring at herself in the mirror.

"They are?"

"Yeah! In the loo, they were down to about there, because I was scratching 
my Thing. You know, my ... well, my ..."

"I know, Abi. Your Thing!"

"Yes, Miss. And I could see all of my hand. Now I can hardly see it at all!"

She was scratching her Thing again. Either it was always itchy, a bit like 
Smegs, or she enjoyed the feeling, a lot like me.

There's one thing, Miss."

"Are you thinking the same thing as me, Abi?"

"It's going to make a right mess of the film, Miss."

I was right, that's just what I was thinking.

"They'll just have to rewrite the ending. Now they've shot all the early 
scenes, they won't want to start again. Once Martin and Bob see your new 
titties, and Pubella and Gudrun, of course, they'll write a new ending. Don't 
you worry."

"Oh, Miss." Her face crumpled and she flung herself at me, throwing her 
arms around my neck and burying her face in my cleavage. I could feel 
her hot breasts pressing against mine. It was a weird feeling, knowing that 
hers were still getting bigger.

"There, there, Abi," I comforted her, with great originality, and held her 
close. She whimpered loudly and clung tighter, shaking the bed.

Smegs grunted, turned over and sat up. "What the bloody hell are you 
doing? Shan! What are you doing with that girl?"

I didn't answer, as I didn't really know. All I did know was that I was 
getting terribly turned on.

Abi let go of my neck and sat up straight on my lap. Smegs's eyes goggled. 
"Bloody Nora, Shan, look at the kid's tits!"

"I'd noticed them, yes. They're growing."

"Growing. Growing? You mean, now?"

"Yes, Miss. I was scratching my Thing in the bogs..."

"Your Thing? You mean...?"

"Yes, Miss, I went in for a shit and afterwards, I wiped my bum, then when 
I came out I looked in the mirror and they were bigger, but at least I could 
see my hand. And I scratched my Thing just now, and I could only see half 
my hand. So they're still growing."

Smegs was staring at her with horror. "Are you wearing panties," she 
asked.

"No, Miss. I was in bed."

"Oh fuck!" Smegs looked disgusted. "Let's see your tits, then. Sit on the bed 
and let's watch them growing."

Abi contentedly crawled on top of the bed and sat down beside Smegs's 
feet. My feet were cold, and I swung my legs into the bed as well, so Abi 
was sitting in the depression between us. We sat in silence for a while. It 
was like watching paint dry.

"They feel bigger," said Abi, as if she was afraid we were losing interest. It 
was difficult to see whether they were getting bigger or not, she was 
sitting with her legs in front of her, and they were squashed against her 
thighs anyway.

"Are you going to sit and watch those things all night, Smegs?" We had 
been waiting for signs of growth for twenty minutes. I was nearly asleep.

"I want to see them grow," she muttered obstinately. I knew that tone of 
voice. Smegs would wait until morning if necessary.

Abi decided to make polite conversation. "Do you always sleep with Miss 
Mountains, Miss Gruntworthy, or were you just fucking?"

"Abi!" I was wide awake again. Smegs awaited my reply with interest.

"I was feeling cold, so Miss Mountains suggested I came in her bed." Smegs 
snorted and hid her face. I thought I detected amusement at my use of the 
word 'came'.

"It's cold out here," whined Abi. "Can I come in the bed as well? I won't 
kick or snore or do rude things or make any nasty smells. You'll be able to 
see if I grow then."

"How can we see if you grow if you're under the bedclothes," I growled, 
desperately.

"Well, you can feel, then. I'll let you feel my tits, Miss. Both of you if you 
like. You can feel one each!" She didn't wait for an answer. There was a 
minor disturbance and there she was between us! "Night night!" she 
murmured, and lay down. We had to fit ourselves into what was left of the 
bed once Abi had occupied the prime real estate in the middle.

Now that St Cat's was beginning to acknowledge that a double bed was a 
necessity for the larger girls, I could almost have submitted a convincing 
case to have one for myself. Smegs's double bed was a very comfortable fit 
for herself and me. Add a growing girl between us and the bed became 
overcrowded. I lay on my back feeling decidedly sulky. My right breast 
was trying to escape over the edge of the bed, my left one was squashed 
against something hot and soft, presumably one of Abi's. I could only 
imagine Smegs was in the same discomfort. It wasn't much consolation.

Abi's promises not to kick, snore, do rude things or make nasty smells 
were all long-forgotten memories within the first ten minutes. In fact, she 
was managing to do all four at the same time. Fortunately, most of the 
rude things she was doing were happening to herself or to Smegs. 
Unfortunately, that left most of the more anti-social things happening to 
me. After an hour, I could stand it no longer.

I crawled out of bed, and with all the dignity I could muster, I went to my 
own room and crept between my freezing sheets.


**********

"Oh, so you got your arse out of bed then?"

Heavy irony is lost on Smegs sometimes. "Yes, thank you. Sleep well?"

"Eventually, in my own cold, damp bed, yes."

"It's not my fault it's damp, is it?"

She began cutting up her bacon with a noise like someone sawing through 
human gristle. I was determined to make no attempt to ask the question.

"Has Abi gone back to her dorm," I asked, my determination lasting at least 
five seconds.

Smegs nodded, her mouth full. She was already working on reducing an 
egg to bite-sized plastic pieces. Spearing one, she aimed it in the direction 
of her mouth, then changed her mind and anointed her plate with another 
glop of tomato ketchup. I averted my gaze. It was like a scene in an 
abattoir. An absolute shambles.

It was all of five relatively silent minutes later that Smegs polished her 
plate with a slice of bread, belched decisively and sat back. She was resting 
before an assault on the toast.

"Six o' clock, it was. She got up and said she had to go. I assumed she 
meant back to her own bed, but it might have been somewhere else."

"The bog, I imagine. There must be something wrong with that girl's 
insides."

"Nothing wrong with her tits though," Smegs chuckled lasciviously. "They 
grew some more after you'd gone."

"After I'd gone? You mean, you were awake? You heard me go?"

"Course I was awake. How was I supposed to sleep with that little hussy 
rubbing her nipples against me? At least, once you'd gone, we had more 
room, and she stopped kicking my shins. She gives quite excellent tongue, 
by the way."

"Oh, Smegs! How could you?"

"I didn't do anything. It was her!" She sounded genuinely aggrieved.

"You could have kicked her out."

"I suppose so," she sighed. "But you know how I am when someone with an 
excellent tongue gets to work on me. I just melt. Well, I just melted."

Fickle slut. My so-called bestest friend. "How big are they now," I heard 
myself asking.

Smegs held up both hands and described an improbable object in mid air. 
She thought about it for a while with her head tilted, then made the object 
longer and wider. "Bigger than yours, then," I taunted her cruelly.

"Oh, yes. Much bigger than mine!"

"I'll see for myself soon enough. I've got the Seconds this morning for Basic 
Blushing."

"You won't see Abi. She won't be there."

"Why not? They're not scheduled to shoot any more of the film until this 
afternoon."

"She's seeing Moggie. I told her to see her about emergency bras and 
clothes and stuff. Moggie has set up a contingency fund for sudden 
expansion cases. She's slashed the budget for International Students by 
reducing their Upper Blouse Threshold to eighty inches."

"Sneaky cow!"

"The money has to come from somewhere, she told me."She said it doesn't 
grow on trees. I think she's still mad at me for ordering the beds and that 
wheelbarrow."

"Essential items, both of them."

"Not the wheelbarrow, she says. Apparently, Shona keeps crashing into 
things. Glass doors and the like. Shona says it hurts her breasts to go round 
corners."

"That's no excuse to try to go straight through any obstacle in her path."

"Explain that to Shona. Perhaps you can get it into her head that if she 
turns to one side or the other, the breast on the outside of the turn will be 
stretched away from her body. She should compensate by bending her 
knees slightly and moving closer to the back of the barrow. Not Shona! Oh, 
no! She comes to an obstacle, turns sharp right, says 'Ouch!' straightens up 
and crashes into it. She ran over some Fourth Formers the other day. They 
weren't at all happy. That barrow weighs a ton with her tits loaded in it."

"I'll speak to her about it."

"Don't be surprised if Moggie has a word with you. She was saying that as 
Comptroller of Bra Studies, wheelbarrow training is your baby. But that's 
not all. There's the milk."

"MILK?"

"You remember how Shona was giving milk when she was in the sick bay? 
Well, Sister thought she'd stopped. But the wheelbarrow seems to be 
stimulating her flow. In fact, she's started to give quite a reasonable yield."

"Smegs, no! You are not going to start milking Shona."

"No, of course not. Anyway, we can't. We gave Baps all the equipment. But 
I thought just the odd pint or so at weekends, enough for our coffee and 
corn flakes ..."

"Smegs!"

"It wouldn't do any harm, Shan! Anyway, she's driving her barrow around 
and her blouse is getting all wet round the ends of her tits, and there's a 
puddle of the stuff slopping around in the bottom of the barrow. Cats are 
starting to follow her around the school. It spills out when she crashes, and 
stains the floors. If we drank it, we'd only be doing everyone a favour."

"I don't like it, Smegs. Shona's not a cow, she's a girl."

"We wouldn't be making any money out of it."

"No, it's not right."

"Good, I'll see to it, then. I can get her hand-milked morning, noon and 
night. Jeremy or Darren or the disco-lad can still do hand milking. She'll 
feel much better for it."





Chapter 17:- Make This The Big One


"Chauntaille, darling, come in and sit down. Not there, come round and sit 
close to me on the desk where I can fondle you!"

"Yes, Miss!" I complied meekly and slid my bottom on to the shiny desktop. 
My thighs, bare above the tops of my stockings, squeaked on the polished 
green leather. Moggie placed a friendly hand on the inside of my leg, and 
not wishing to give offence, I parted my knees several more inches.

"Ooooh, that's lovely, Shan! I could fondle you all day. No wonder Megan 
gets so jealous ...! Still, that's not why I called for you." Her attentions were 
making it hard to concentrate. I placed my hand on top of hers and moved 
it slightly. "How is the teaching going? You've been very busy lately, I 
know. Coping all right?"

"Oh, yes, Miss. It's a challenge, teaching two classes different subjects 
simultaneously." I moved her hand a bit more, and gave a shudder as her 
fingers crept inside the crotch of my panties. It became necessary to 
spread my legs a few more inches.

"Good," purred Moggie. "I have been thinking of ways to reduce the load on 
you and Megan. We haven't had a good three-way fucking session for 
weeks, have we? Anyway, I am going to employ another teacher. An angel 
has come up with the money, as it were."

"An angel, Miss?" It was time for another shudder as several of her fingers 
found what they were seeking for.

"God, Shan! You are so big down there!"

"Yes, Miss!"

"An angel, yes." I took my hand off hers and placed both my hands slightly 
behind me on the desk for support as I slid my hips forward to the edge of 
the desk. Moggie leaned towards me and our mouths met, with parted lips 
and questing tongues. "I slep ... I saw an old friend last night, and he 
agreed that we were underfunded. To cut a long story short, we can afford 
a new teacher. But where do you fit in?"

"Me, Miss?" I was beginning to pant.

"You, darling! You are due to return to college after the Summer holidays. 
Perhaps you ought to reconsider your future plans? Fuck ME!"

I looked down to confirm the cause of Moggie's last exclamation. Her whole 
hand had disappeared, up to the wrist. We looked at each other, wide-
eyed.

"My plans, Miss," I quavered.

"We need you here, Shan. Of course, it will mean a substantial raise in your 
salary." She had evidently given up her left hand as missing in action. She 
was now moving in with the right one. Her fingers approached from the 
other side of my crotch gusset.

"You do, Miss?"

"We do, Shan."

"I'm sorry, Miss!" Moggie looked at me sharply for a moment. "I'm sorry. 
I've made a puddle on your desk!"

"Oh, my sweet little darling! Come and sit on Moggie's lap! Make puddles 
on Moggie instead!"

Wow! seemed an appropriate thing to say. "Wow!" I said, and shifted 
myself and my soggy panties on to Moggie's lap.

Half an hour later, Moggie outlined her plans for me and for St Cat's. She 
summed up. "So, we will be interviewing two new applicants. One is a man, 
or rather, a male. Never taught before, but quite a good background. The 
other one is a woman, younger than you and Megan, but excellent 
qualifications." She opened her drawer and pulled out a photograph.

I studied it briefly. "Are those things REAL?"

"We'll have to find out at the interview. Just you and me and Megan, this 
time. It was perhaps a mistake involving the girls in the interviewing 
procedure. We may have worn out some perfectly sound applicants last 
time by subjecting them to quite so much intensive sex at the hands of 
such inexhaustible schoolgirls."

"But the girls weren't actually fucking them, were they?"

"The Juniors weren't. But what they *were* doing was far more 
demanding, apparently. Mr Ackroyd, Dennis ..." her eyes misted over "... 
will never be the same again. Retirement on grounds of ill-health. Same as 
Sir Roger. They can't handle it after a certain age!"

"How old is the male applicant?"

"Mr Windlesham? Getting on for middle age. Two boys at public school." 
She studied a piece of heavily embossed paper. "Gosh! Eton. Divorce coming 
up. No teaching experience, but deeply consuming interest in the 
Environment, Youth Issues, the Plight of the Inner Cities ..."

"He sounds ..."

"...like a right Burke, yes. Still, he'd be an impressive acquisition for St 
Cat's."

"When are they ...?"

"I thought Friday. Then we could decide on our choice over the weekend. 
All three of us, together?"

"Sounds yummy!"

"Great! That's decided, then. Right, when's your next class?"

"I've got the Second Form for Basic Blushing."

"Aaaah, cut it! Let them practise blushing by themselves. Get your gear off 
and let's take the phone off the hook!" She extracted her wrist from my 
aching snatch and lowered me to the floor with surprising strength...


**********

Moggie completely forgot to mention Abi's newly huge breasts, or Shona's 
erratic barrow-driving. When I emerged from her office, feeling as if I'd 
gone fifteen rounds with an industrial vacuum cleaner, I had barely the 
energy to stagger along to the film studio, where the crew was scratching 
its heads and staring at Abi in blank amazement.

Smegs had been right about the girl growing some more in the night. The 
script called for Abi to be dressed in the same school uniform as in the 
previous day's scene, the one with the inflation pump. A new blouse, one 
of Suzanne's, replaced the one so cruelly savaged by the Biggest Breasts in 
the World. 

Jeremy held up the repaired Biggest Breasts in the World helplessly, then 
tossed them on the desk. "We won't have any use for these," he decided.

Pubella tore her eyes away from Abi's straining chest and looked at 
Martin. "Can we use part of yesterday's shot, Mar, where Abi grows?"

"With a change of angle, probably, yes. What did you have in mind?"

"Like she started growing, and you came round behind her, looking over 
her shoulder, then when you got to about ... here ... she got huge and 
burst."

"That's right. So by coming round to ... here ... we could cut to a new shot 
showing Abi's real new breasts ..." Martin still looked disbelievingly at the 
girl's overloaded blouse. "Are they big enough for your purposes, Pubella?"

Any sarcasm was apparently lost on Pubella.

"They are a bit smaller than we *really* wanted. Smaller than Gudrun 
wanted, anyway, but we can probably get away with them as they are. It 
will save us time later, with the make-up we'd have had to do, fitting the 
Biggest Breasts in the World to Abi for the topless shots."

"This is true," said Martin. "Right, let's go for it. You ready, Robert?"

"Ready, Cap'n!" Bob gave a left-handed salute.

"Ready, Abi?"

"Nearly, Martin. I just think I'd better pay a visit before we start shooting. 
In case it becomes urgent later on." She got up, an anxious expression on 
her face.

"Couldn't you have gone to the toilet before you came here, Abi?" Pubella 
said, severely.

"I did, Pubes. Twice. I think there must be something wrong with my 
insides."


**********

Martin and Bob joined us later in Smegs's room for toasted crumpets.

"I wouldn't have believed it possible. I mean, I saw them grow yesterday, 
but the size of those things today!"

"Nothing, Mar!" Smegs bit into a crumpet and butter squished out across 
her cheek. I licked it off for her and she thanked me with an enthusiastic 
kiss. "She was in here last night, growing before my eyes. It's a wonderful 
experience watching Mother Nature at work like that."

"Nature?" Bob's eyes boggled. "You call that natural?"

"Did you get much work done?"

"Could have been more, Shan," admitted Martin, "but Abi's bowels cost us 
an hour or more. We've shot all the first half now. Tomorrow, there's a 
whole sequence of shots involving a crowd of other girls, pretending to be 
in the dorm getting ready for bed."

"Why shoot it there?"

"Just an excuse for gratuitous nudity," grinned Bob. I liked Bob. I felt it was 
necessary to do something to show him how much I liked him. He went 
pale as I unzipped his pants and stuck my face inside.

Smegs giggled. "Don't mind my bestest friend. She's a bit forward 
sometimes."

"Oh, I see."

"One thing, Mar, when you shoot the girls getting ready for bed, don't 
forget their panties."

"What about them?" Martin's voice sounded faint, even allowing for my 
position inside Bob's pants.

"They take them off and put them in a special bin just inside the dormitory 
door. They are collected and taken to be sorted and packed. It's an 
important part of the routine here. Since it isn't really bedtime, some of 
them might try to get away with not taking their panties off. They're dirty, 
lazy little sods, some of them. So just make sure they do, okay?"

I emerged briefly. "Does it really matter, Smegs? Will it advance the plot at 
all, showing them putting their knickers in the bin?"

"That's not the point. It's the principle of the thing. It's like Abi being in 
the loo and not shitting. Attention to detail! Anyway, you get back in there 
and finish the job you started!"

"I think I did. Did I finish, Bob?"

"Yes!" he croaked, faintly. "Thanks, Shan!"

"My pleasure. Sorry I didn't swallow, darling, but I've had so many 
crumpets, I couldn't manage another mouthful."

"Oh, no problem. It will dry out in time."

"Here, let me!" Smegs grabbed a pair of panties from a pile and leapt in, 
wiping up the deposits. Type 'E' stains are very rare at St Cat's," she 
explained. "Not much demand, of course, but we like to be able to cater to 
the needs of our more specialised customers."

"So, you two will be joining us in the Seconds' Dorm in the morning? We'll 
need a few figures of authority around to control that crowd of horny 
bitches."

"Martin! Those are St Cat's girls you're being so disparaging about."

"Exactly."

I consulted the timetable. "We've both got double-headers tomorrow. I'm 
taking Third Form Wanking Revision and Fifths' Seductive Talking. Smegs 
has got the Fourths for Games and the Upper Sixths for Advanced Positions 
in Congress."

"Games? At St Cat's?"

"Strip Monopoly tactics," said Smegs. "But talking about double-headers, 
Martin, sweetheart. Bring your loins over here. You, too, my special love. 
Bob can join us in his own time!"

She called me her special love! O, Megan!


**********

"All ready, Pan?"

"Yeah!"

"Did you test it out?"

"Course, Suze! Trust me. Here, take a sniff."

"No smell at all. No trace of strawberries, anyway. Who did you test it on?"

"Shona, of course. She was asleep, and I gave her a five second burst."

"Did it work?"

"She complained when she got up that her right boob nearly overturned 
her barrow, so they're probably a few pounds heavier. It's impossible to 
tell just by looking at the things."

"Good! Let's go, then."

Suzanne slipped a bottle into her bag, and Pansy did the same, then the 
two dreadful little girls set off for the Second Form dormitory.

**********

"All the curtains drawn, girls, thank you," sang Gudrun, and the curtains 
were drawn tight to keep out the daylight. Only the bedside lights 
remained lit. Jeremy was going round, replacing the bulbs in each one with 
an extra powerful lamp.

"All done," he reported.

"Positions, everyone!" Pubella had found a megaphone from somewhere. 
Girls in nighties milled around. There were fleecy nighties, lacy ones, long 
ones and frankly embarrassing ones. Smegs plonked the pantie bin down 
in a marked manner by the door, and pointed to it with a long finger. She 
has long fingers, I am really glad to say.

"All ready, then? Abi, you happy with your lines?"

Abi was mumbling something over and over to herself. She nodded at 
Pubella as if frightened of forgetting everything if she spoke.

"Ready, Martin, Bob?"

"We're running!"

Like a highly-drilled squad, a well-oiled machine, the girls began playing 
their parts. With our classes earlier, Smegs and I had missed the 
rehearsals, so we were most impressed at the sense of purpose with which 
the girls climbed into bed and called goodnight to each other. It was as 
impressive as 'The Waltons'. Then the lights went out one by one, ending 
with Abi's.

"Cut!"

The lights came on again.

"That was nice, girls! Abi, you looked at the camera at the end, darling. 
And we need to tighten up the timing as the lights go off. More of a ripple 
really, if you can. Let's try again."

Suzanne and Pansy were sitting watching by the doorway, innocently 
enough. They had a free study period, I supposed, and they were doing no 
harm.

"Here we go, then. This is a take. This time, if it looks all right, leave the 
lights out for half a minute, and we'll shoot the voices in the darkness bit. 
Okay? Let's go!"

The girls milled around again.

The crew reported they were running.

Pubella called "Action!"

Even more well-oiled, the girls did us proud. They climbed into their beds, 
with a certain amount of token bottom-flashing. I noted with considerable 
interest those girls with pubic hair and those without. Such information 
can be valuable. The lights went out, with almost a ripple, and in the 
darkness, goodnights and best wishes rang out.

I thought perhaps they were building up their parts a bit. There was an 
occasional "God Bless, Tess!" and even a "Take Care, Claire!" Nothing to do 
with me, though. Not my film.

"Cut, thank you!" the lights came on. And we all blinked. There were 
congratulations all round. "Nice one, girls!"

I was trying to puzzle out why Suzanne and Pansy were now sitting, 
perfectly innocently, at the *far* end of the dormitory. Look at them. 
Butter wouldn't melt in those sweet rosebud mouths.

"What's next, Pubes?"

"We're shooting these in reverse order, remember? The next scene is the 
one where the girls undress, mill around, drop their knickers in the bin 
and put their nighties on, right?"

Bob came over and whispered to me. "Hi, Shan, lovey. We're doing this one 
last because it's so complicated. They'll be tripping over each other on their 
way to drop their knickers in the bin. And we don't really want to see too 
many hairy bushes, if they've got them."

"I can tell you which ones have," I offered, eagerly.

Bob looked at me in an odd way. "Yes, knowing you, Shan, I bet you could, 
too!"

The girls were almost dressed, buttoning their blouses, pulling up their 
skirts. Still struggling into their bras, some of the slower ones. Grunts and 
little straining noises filled the air.

"Nearly ready, girls? Okay, complicated scene, this. Don't worry if it doesn't 
work out first time. This first one's a rehearsal, but we'll shoot it, right 
Mar?"

Martin nodded. Pubella was getting the hang of it.

"Don't forget your panties in Miss Mountains' bin, girls. You all got plenty 
of spare pairs?"

A dozen voices shouted, "NO!"

Smegs groaned in dismay. "You useless lot," she yelled. "It's Thursday, how 
can you have run out already? You'll just have to collect your panties from 
the bin after each take. Try to remember which are yours."

"Oh, yucky, Miss!"

"Oh, no, I'm not wearing HERS!"

"Poo, Miss! What happens if one of gets Abi's, Miss?"

"OH, NO!"

The prospect of any one of them getting Abi's used knickers was obviously 
distasteful to the girls. I must confess, it wouldn't have thrilled me greatly, 
either. Smegs had no problem with the idea. It probably quite excited her.

"Stop being a load of babies and do as you're told!"

They grumbled, but assumed their places, ready to start undressing again.

"Here we go, then, girls! Let's make this the big one!"





Chapter 18:- The Really Big One


"Now this really IS the big scene," shouted Pubella through her megaphone. 
"I'm sure we learned a lot from that rehearsal ..."

Which was true. Bob's prediction had been uncannily correct. A grand pile-
up had occurred with girls coming and going between the centre of the 
dorm and the pantie-bin. It had ended in a disgraceful heap of semi-naked 
girls of all sizes, kicking and struggling in the middle of the floor. Blows 
were struck before authority waded in and separated them.

"It was her fault, Miss! Fat cow!"

"It wasn't me, Miss. And she punched me in the eye!"

"She started it. She grabbed my tits."

"I didn't know they were hers."

"Whose tits *were* you grabbing at, then you horny bitch?"

"Look at this blood all over my fuckin' nightie! Anyone would think I'd just 
come on!"

Smegs and I held the assailants apart, all four of them. It took Martin and 
Bob to help us. With Suzanne's and Pansy's help, we swabbed away the 
blood, dried the tears and cuddled the injured until they were better.

The girl with the blood on her nightie *had* just 'come on', as it happened, 
which was a source of some relief to her, as she unwittingly revealed 
during the course of our investigations. She was allowed to continue with 
her part in the film on the strict understanding that she avoided showing 
the camera her little piece of string when she undressed.

Meanwhile, the actresses were dressing again. The grunts and squeaks 
were renewed.

"This bra's shrunk," snorted one girl in disgust.

"So's MY fucker!"

"Really, girls, your language! There are teachers present, as well as men!"

"Sorry, Miss. But look!"

I looked. The girl was a plump little thing, and her bra was decidedly tight 
across her boobs. "Did it fit before, Gloriana?"

"Yes, Miss!"

"What about yours, Felicity? Gosh, I see!"

Felicity's didn't fit, either. Nor did Katherine's. She had been on the choir 
trip, and remembered it clearly. "Are we all growing, Miss?" She cupped 
her swelling globes and viewed herself in profile in her wardrobe mirror. 
The effect seemed to please her. "Like the Fourth Form in the choir?"

"We ARE, Miss!" Another girl screamed. It was Salacia, another choir 
member, whose bra cups were now clearly a couple of sizes too small for 
her. A good handful of breast bulged over the top of each cup. Having 
checked that this was so, I let go hastily in case the others all wanted me 
to have a quick feel of theirs as well.

Too late! "Feel MINE, Miss!" Requests came from all around the dormitory. 
All the girls had started to overflow their bras. One or two who had 
already buttoned their blouses were swiftly loosening them before 
something gave way. Uproar had broken out. Martin and Bob looked close 
to panic.

Something strange was happening. Cupping their breasts, the girls were 
whimpering and tearing at their burstingly full brassieres, helping each 
other out of the restricting garments, and emitting low moans. They edged 
closer to Smegs and me, and to Martin and Bob. Big, erect nipples were 
being rubbed against us by a bunch of girls clearly under the influence of 
Uncontrollable Horniness.

The only one not affected seemed to be Abi, who sat on her bed looking 
around her in dismay. She was still the biggest by a comfortable margin, 
but the differential was being whittled away by the second. Suddenly she 
was overtaken by a call of nature, and made a hasty excuse and left.

I looked around for Suzanne and Pansy. Unaccountably, they had 
disappeared. How very strange.

It was a yell of mingled panic and lust that brought my attention back to 
the happenings closer to hand. The panic came from Bob and Martin, the 
lust was kindly provided by a dozen supremely randy twelve-year-olds, 
who bore the camera crew to the floor by sheer weight of numbers and 
fast-growing breast tissue. They poor lads couldn't get up, although I had a 
suspicion they weren't trying as hard as they might.

Pubella and Gudrun were at my side.

"What can we do, Miss?"

"God knows, Pubella. There'll be no stopping them. This is Uncontrollable 
Horniness, and it's not called Uncontrollable Horniness for nothing. It's 
totally uncontrollable!"

"But these are Juniors, Miss!" Gudrun sounded indignant: a girl cheated of 
her basic human rights.

"You're welcome to join in, Gudrun, but you won't stand a chance against 
these kids. They will not be denied." I was right. Even as I spoke, two girls 
were lowering their fevered loins on to Martin's face. Three more were 
dealing with Bob. I noted with some relief that none of these girls was the 
anonymous menstruating girl, who was doing some amazing things with 
her tits to Martin's face. I had to look away.

Smegs looked pale. "Can't we stop them, Shan?"

"What do you suggest. A bucket of water? I think we'll just have to leave 
them to it. Fortunately, ignorance is bliss. Most of them don't have a clue 
how to do it, anyway."

We studied the writhing heap dismally. They may not have had a clue, but 
half a dozen of the girls were clearly on the verge of a staggering 
discovery. Fingers were ablur across dripping pussies, and it was only a 
matter of time before *somebody* tried to see if there was anything 
around that might fit nicely in one of these convenient holes.

"What in the wide, wide world ...?"

Moggie!

Such is the power of Authority. The pile of lust-crazed Juniors 
miraculously unravelled itself. The girls all stood up. "Good morning, Miss 
Thunderbolt," they chanted dutifully. They stood in a mournful cluster, 
their now spectacular breasts thrusting out of their inadequate bras in a 
most disturbing manner. It was even more disturbing when you looked at 
them and realised that not one of the girls was wearing anything but a bra. 
The rest of their clothing lay in an abandoned clutter. Smegs was sifting 
hopelessly through it in search of recyclable knickers.

Martin and Bob sat up unsteadily, putting themselves away.

"I am deeply, deeply shocked," said Moggie, sounding deeply, deeply 
shocked. "Miss Mountains, Miss Gruntworthy, come with me, please! 
Pubella and Gudrun, kindly resume work at once." She cast an eye over the 
camera crew, shook her head and said nothing. Martin and Bob looked 
desperately ashamed.


**********

"What brought that on?" Moggie demanded, as we strode down the 
corridor at high speed.

"Uncontrollable Horniness," I explained. "Their breasts all grew, as well. 
Somebody must have sprayed them all."

"All except young Abi. She came to see me in my office and said something 
had happened to the girls in the film. Something terrible. Couldn't you 
STOP them, either of you?"

"Stop them, Miss?" Smegs's voice was all squeaky. "It's the Uncontrollable 
Horniness, you can't stop it!"

"Have we lost any virginities?"

"It's a bit late for *us*, Miss!"

"You know what I mean, Shan," said Moggie dangerously.

"I don't think so," murmured Smegs. "Although we were getting pretty 
close in a few cases. Luckily, most of them were foolish virgins anyway, as 
it happened."

"It's going to cost us the earth in double beds and wheelbarrows if this sort 
of thing goes on. Come into the office."

We followed her inside and she shut the door.

"I am very disappointed, Megan. And Chauntaille, you have let me down." 
Then she just sat in silence and looked at us as we bawled our eyes out. 
Ten minutes went by, the only sound being our howling and sobbing. 
Moggie took a box of tissues out of her drawer. "Oh, for fuck's sake, shut 
up!" she yelled.

We stopped crying instantly. It was getting a bit difficult to keep going, to 
tell the truth. I took a handful of tissues and handed some to Smegs.

"Are you going to give us a good spanking, Miss?" It was worth a try, at 
least.

"Not this time, Chauntaille. I think you are both truly sorry. Come here!" 
Her voice had softened, and we both looked up at her in astonishment. She 
was holding her arms out to us. Moggie picked up the phone and spoke 
briskly to Miss Labia.

"No more calls this afternoon, Labia, please!" She planted the handset in its 
cradle and began to loosen my shirt buttons.


**********

I got my spanking, although it took over an hour of persuasion. Smegs took 
over from Moggie when her wrist became tired, although she found 
somewhere soothing for her wrist while Smegs finished me off.

Later, I stood and watched while Moggie and Smegs snogged in a jaded 
way, curled up in Moggie's armchair. "Please come and join us," they 
pleaded, but sitting down was not high on my agenda for the foreseeable 
future. But I hobbled over and licked everything that looked vaguely 
edible. They looked suitably gratified.


**********

"I am deeply disappointed, Suzanne. Pansy, you have let me down!"

The girls wailed miserably. Where is this leading, Chauntaille, I asked 
myself. "Oh shut up, for crying out loud," I told them, in language suitable 
for the ears of First Formers. "Here, use my hankie."

"These aren't a hankie, Miss," Suzanne informed me, holding up a flimsy 
undergarment. She sniffed at the area of the crotch. "Miss Mountains', at a 
guess!"

I took them from her and raised them to my nostrils. Tears sprang to my 
eyes. They were Smegs's, all right. "Use them anyway," I said, "they're 
perfectly clean."

The girls politely declined, and wiped their eyes on their sleeves.

"Now, then. Are you going to tell me the truth about this business? Why 
did the Second Form grow? And why did it suffer from Uncontrollable 
Horniness?"

"It must have been Miss Thunderbolt's cheap chemicals," insisted Suzanne, 
still sobbing occasionally, which had a curiously disturbing effect on the 
contents of her blouse. The decidedly ample contents. "It was supposed to 
be a little bit of a boost, that's all. The girls asked us themselves."

"They were jealous of Abi, Miss," continued Pansy, also doing the heaving 
bosom trick in a slightly smaller way. Suzanne watched her for a while 
with interest, then joined in with a great shuddering sob that nearly had 
her breasts exploding all over the room.

"They only wanted an inch or so. More of a statement of intent, they called 
it. Just to show what they could do. It got out of control a bit, didn't it, 
Miss!"

"You could say that, Suzanne. Button yourself up, there's a love. I think 
that bra's about on its limits, isn't it?"

"Yes, Miss. So's Pansy's, Miss!"

"We were trying not to get bigger bras, Miss, in case it upset Toria."

"Better Toria should be upset than you squash your titties into a too-small 
bra, Pansy. See the fitters tomorrow, both of you!"

"Oooh, yes, Miss," they chanted happily in unison.

Somehow, I thought, the interview hadn't gone entirely to plan.


**********

"It all went according to plan, Miss," I reported to Moggie. "They'll never do 
it again."

"Good girls. It's only youthful high spirits. And what's the damage, no lives 
lost, no virginities, just a dozen girls with six inches or so added on to their 
bust measurements. They'll be grateful, once they've got their new 
ScatBras on, and especially when they discover how sensitive their tits are! 
I remember how we all were when ours first grew!"

Smegs grinned in recollection. "How I was always the biggest."

"Apart from me," insisted Moggie.

"Apart from you. But you had the milk, didn't you?"

"And little Shan!" Moggie hugged me to her and my loins melted for 
possibly only the fourth time since Smegs had awakened me by nibbling 
my clitoris at four in the morning. "Remember how little Shan used to be 
so tiny. Little B cups?"

"Now look at her. We've come a long way together, Moggie!"

"We certainly have, Megan. Now, even our Juniors can whip up a mixture 
that can turn an entire class of twelve year olds into exotic dancers ..."

"... and Uncontrollably Horny sluts ..."

"... and set fire to spoons!"

They stared at me. I didn't know *why* I'd said that.

"Are we all ready for the interviews, then? First one's at ten. Mr 
Windlesham. Are you going to change into something more suitable?"

I'd thought my black and white looked rather smart.

"You look like a tarty waitress, Shan. And Megan, a bit of cleavage is fine, 
but when you start showing the undersides of your breasts, you have 
overstepped the bounds of decency. Blouses, please, both of you. Skirts 
down to mid thigh, as well. Especially yours, Megan. You have been 
showing a tendency to reveal your knickers in public. Let us show a little 
respect for Mr Windlesham. He is, after all, a gentleman. As for your 
cleavage, Shan, no more than two feet. I shall measure it with this stick on 
your return. As a gesture of goodwill, I shall warm the stick first." She 
placed it on the radiator.

I would rather she had given me a good spanking with it, but Mr 
Windlesham had to be put at his ease for his interview, and to have a 
young woman member of the interviewing panel hobbling about holding 
her burning bottom was not calculated to make him feel comfortable.

"C'mon, Smegs, let's go and change." I almost dragged her out of the door.

"And don't forget to shower before you get dressed, we don't want Mr 
Windlesham thinking he's being interviewed in a fish market!"

"Oh, MISS!"

She's such a rotten spoilsport, is Moggie.





Part VII





Chapter 19:- Windlesham And Meadowlark


We were all strangely nervous for some reason. No real reason for it; after 
all, we were the ones doing the interviewing, not applying for the job. 
Moggie had placed three chairs behind her leather topped desk, herself in 
the middle, I sat on her right, Smegs on her left. For some ridiculous 
reason, I wanted to be next to Smegs, with our thighs touching instead of 
mine and Moggie's. I tried to comfort myself by remembering that Smegs's 
thigh was touching Moggie's other one, and pushed harder against her.

"What's the matter with you two girls," she said, "I can't move with you 
two squashing my thighs together."

"Oooh, look, Miss, there's that patch on your desk from where I leaked the 
other day!"

Smegs looked disgusted and sniffed loudly. Oh, no, Smeggsy, don't get all 
stroppy with me, please. I never had a chance to find out whether my 
bestest friend was stroppy with me or not. Miss Labia knocked and came 
in. She seemed excited, was that the word? Disturbed, perhaps?

"Mr Windlesham's here, Miss Thunderbolt. But he's not ..."

"Show him in, then, Labia."

"He's not, Miss Thunderbolt, it's ... Somebody Else ...!"

"What's the matter, Labia, show him in!"

"All right, but don't say I didn't warn you ..." She rolled her eyes and left 
the room. The door opened and she came back in. "Mr W-W-W-W-
Windlesham."

I was looking down at my note-pad, when I heard Moggie say under her 
breath, "Oh, my God!" She was trying to stand up, for Chrissakes. I looked 
up at the Windlesham man.

"Oh, my God!" I said, and started struggling to my feet. Out of the corner of 
my eye, I saw Smegs getting up as well.

"No, please do sit down, ladies," drawled a deep and strangely familiar 
voice. Mr Windlesham was a tallish man with a big, familiar St Bernard dog 
face, and big familiar ears. He was wearing a conservative, safe, utterly 
predictable double-breasted suit, in a pattern called a Prince of Wales 
check, for some reason. His eyes scanned along the row of us, as we 
struggled to sit down again. My breasts had become entangled with 
Moggie's, one on top of the desktop, the other underneath. We stood up 
again, and Moggie became caught up with Smegs, who had half sat down.

I took advantage of the confusion to unhook my left breast from the 
desktop and hold it up with both hands out of Moggie's way. As soon as 
Moggie and Smegs crashed down in their seats, I dropped it in Moggie's 
lap, all fifty pounds of it.

"Ooof!" she grunted. "Ah, good morning, Your High ... erm ... Sir, Mr W-W-
Windlesham, sir!"

"Most extraordinary," he said. Actually, what he said was "Maist egg-
strwoard-nary!"

"Did you have a pleasant journey, Mr Sir?" Moggie, get a grip, please.

"Maist pleasant. We flew in to Upton Silage. One took the controils for part 
of the flight."

"Gosh!"

I drifted away. Somewhere, in a mist, I could hear Moggie's lame 
questions, the cultured answers. I gazed at Mr Windlesham's ears. They 
were really as big in real life as in his photographs. I found myself 
wondering about the other parts reputed to be well above average in size, 
as well.

"... One has a little place in the West Country. Cornwall, it's called ..."

I floated off again. Vaguely, I heard of one's ex-wife, one's two boys, one's 
hice, one's love of sport and the open air, one's brief career in the Navy. He 
couldn't come here. Not to St Cat's! "... Chauntaille?" Moggie had just asked 
me a question.

"Whaaa ..." I turned it into a cough, and the cough started me choking. I 
came to, with Moggie thumping me on the back. My eyes were streaming, 
and my tits were banging and flopping on the desk like great goatskin bags 
of half-melted butter. "Stop it," I gasped. "I'm fuckin' choking!"

"I say, are you all right, Miz Gruntworthy? How appallingly dreadful."

"Yes, thank you," I croaked. I struggled to remember my question. "You list 
among your interests Youth Affairs, have you ..." my mind had gone blank. 
"Erm. How many youthful affairs have you had?" I concluded, uncertainly. 
That wasn't right, Chauntaille, I told myself with some conviction. 
Conviction for High Treason, at the very least.

Mr Windlesham was laughing uncertainly. "Jolly good," he chuckled. I could 
hear Moggie gibbering on my left, and recognised Smegs's groan.

"I mean, if you came to St Cat's, how would you feel, in your lack of actual 
teaching experience, which is not, of course, a disabling disability by any 
manner of means, about actually becoming a girl's tampon?"

"Aaaargh!" That was Moggie again.

"Ooooh, no!" And that was Smegs. 

"I mean, a teacher of girls," I said, perhaps a little late.

"One would adapt, one feels certain. As a tampon, one could conform to any 
... as a teacher, that is, one would see one's role as ... would you mind 
repeating the question, please?"

"I think we can take that one as read," Moggie interrupted. "Megan?"

"How about sex?" asked Smegs, rather abruptly, I thought.

"Sex?"

"Our girls are all female," gabbled Smegs, blushing furiously and not at all 
prettily. "What would your attitude be to them becoming wheelbarrows? I 
mean ... you know?" she ended helpfully.

"Megan means, if their ... if they get so ... their brea ... their tit. Oh shit!"

"You do all have thee maist extraordinarily large breasts, ladies."

"Ummm. We do?"

"Yairs, indeed."

We all fell silent. Somebody had to say something. Incredulously, I heard 
myself saying it, and nothing I could do would stop the words pouring out 
of my lips.

"Is your cock really as huge as they say it is?"


**********

"Is this the Tower of London?" 

"Sorry? Shan, you've come round. We were worried. Smegs has been giving 
you the kiss of life. She wouldn't let me do it. We had quite a fight over 
you. You might have died."

"Shit, and I missed it, I must have been unconscious. Do it again, Smegs, 
please!"

"Not now, Shan! Later, perhaps."

"What happened? Did he get the job?"

"He's gone, Shan, darling." Moggie bent over me, and Smegs grabbed her 
arm and dragged her away jealously.

"Did he get the job?"

"I don't think so, my sweetness. You may have frightened him off."

"Isn't that treason, Miss? I'll go to jail! I'll be hanged!"

"Darling!" they both held me down, stroking me in various erogenous 
places. That felt good. At least, before I was taken to the place of execution, 
I could have Moggie and Smegs bring me last comfort. "He wasn't who you 
thought. We thought. It wasn't him, you know. He was an impostor."

"Well, he wasn't actually an impostor," Smegs pointed out, "he always said 
his name was Windlesham, didn't he?"

"Well, he looked like him, and he certainly sounded like him. And 
everything else was right, too. Were those *really* his boys' names? And 
*Eton*?"

"Yes, all correct," confirmed Moggie. "But pure coincidence, all of it. Small 
world, you know!"

"Well, wow! Where does that leave us? The woman this afternoon. Miss 
Meadowlark? Corinne Meadowlark. What sort of a name is Meadowlark, 
anyway?"

"It's Miss Meadowlark's name, Shan. She's certainly hot favourite now. And 
with those tits, I could fancy her myself!"

"Moggie!" Smegs placed her hands on her hips and looked disapprovingly 
at her. She was so commanding!

"I love you, Smegs!" I yelled at her, and they both stared at me and 
shrugged at each other. Moggie picked up the picture from her desk and 
studied it closely. It was the sort of picture most suited to close study. I 
wished it was bigger; about four feet square.

"How big do you think those things are, Megan?"

"Bigger than mine. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"No, of course not. Although they certainly are. They are fucking enormous! 
Seventy inches?"

"What's enormous about seventy inches?" I wanted to know. "You're bigger 
than that, and I'm ten bloody feet. Even Smegs is nearly seventy inches. 
Good grief, young Suzanne must be nearly that big now!"

"This is news to me," said Moggie. "Why wasn't I kept informed?"

"Sorry, Miss," I informed her meekly. "Suzanne's been growing again."

"Thank you, Chauntaille."

"What time is she due?"

"Two thirty."

"Time for a leisurely lunch, then," suggested Moggie. "It's not quite twelve. 
Let's go down the pub in the village!"

"The pub? For lunch?"

"The Goat and Compasses?" 

"The same."

I looked at Smegs and she looked at me. Why not? It would make a change 
from spending two hours fucking. I looked down past my yawning 
cleavage at my fairly austere navy skirt. My thighs were creamy, but 
distinctly heavy-looking above the tops of my black stockings. "Are we 
going out dressed like this?"

"Why not? You won't get arrested for flashing two feet of cleavage and 
some stocking-tops. Come on, we're wasting valuable drinking time."


**********

We rolled back into Moggie's office at twenty-five past two.

"Shit! Jus' in time," yelled Moggie, flopping down into her chair. I tried to 
sit next to her but ended up in her lap. "Ooooh, Chauntaille!" she gargled at 
me, and gave me a hearty gin-flavoured snog. "Where's Smegan? She's 
gone. Did we leave her at the Goat n' Pencil Case?"

"Gone for a piss. I told her to have one for me while she was there." I felt 
glad to be reasonably sober. It would be a sign of respect to our job 
applicant for one of the interviewers to be reasonably sober. "I got 
hiccups," I told Moggie gravely.

"Good!"

Miss Labia appeared. "Miss Meadowlark's here, Miss Thunderbolt. Did you 
want to see her?"

"Course we want to fucking see her," Moggie roared, shaking the windows, 
and Miss Labia cringed. Smegs pushed past her rudely in the doorway.

"Look out, yer slag!" cried my bestest friend. "Hey, I was too late. I pissed 
meself outside the bogs. Puddle on the floor. Look!" She held up her 
panties triumphantly. "Type 'B'!" then she flopped her soggy underwear 
down on top of the desk, sat down and fell asleep with her head on her 
arms.

"Black coffee?" Miss Labia suggested.

"What for? For Meadowlark? Is she drunk, or what? Hey, Shan!" She 
nudged me heavily. "Meadowlark's pissed. She's drunk on parade. 
Interview. Drunk!"

"Yes please, Labia," I said urgently. "Four cups, three of them strong and 
hot and black. Quick as you can." I emphasised the urgency of the request 
by thumping my fist on the desk, creating a hailstorm of paperclips which 
pelted down around our heads. Moggie ducked. Smegs was mercifully 
unconscious.

"Raining in here?" Moggie fumbled beneath the desk and emerged with an 
umbrella. One of those huge multi-coloured golf ones.

"Quick as you can, Labia."

Miss Labia disappeared, and I faintly heard her asking Miss Meadowlark if 
she would like a cup of coffee as the board was just finishing the previous 
interview. "Well done, Labia," I said to myself, and hiccupped again.

"BOO!" shouted Moggie. "Shock. Good cure for hiccups, Shan. Have a shock. 
Boo!" It didn't frighten me unduly. I hiccupped again. "Rain's getting 
worse," she said. "The rain in ... Spain ... stays mainly in ... the plain."

"Oh, no!"

"I think she's got it," roared Moggie. "By George, she's got it!"

"Oh, my God!"

"She's got it! She's really got it!" Moggie flung herself to her feet, twirling 
her umbrella so the coloured panels swam before my eyes as she danced a 
gallumphing tango round the room, her breasts leading the way. "The RAIN 
in SPAIN stays MAIN-ly in the PLAIN! FUCK!" She collided with the hat-
stand and brought it crashing to the floor in a spectacular finale. "In 
Hertford, Hereford and Hampshire," she observed quietly, "Hurricanes 
hardly happen!"

Miss Labia hurried in with a tray and three mugs which she placed on the 
desk. I was trying to pick up Moggie, but she seemed to have become 
enmeshed with the furniture. Somehow, one of the elaborately bent wood 
hooks had entered her cleavage and was acting as an underwire for her 
left breast.

"How did she get caught up like this?" said a strange voice.

"Twelve G and T's, I suppose," I told the owner of the voice, then looked up 
from the floor at the girl who was trying to help me. An astonishingly 
lovely little blonde-haired girl, with the most amazingly REAL big breasts 
I'd ever seen in my life. My performing spleen did its usual cartwheels as I 
fell instantly, deeply in love. "Thank you, spleen, that will be all," I said.

"Sorry? Did you say something?"

"No, nothing. Just holding a conversation with my spleen."

"I do that sometimes, too. Bloody thing turns cartwheels! Here. Look, I'll 
hold her, you pull the hatstand out of the top of her frock. I can't imagine 
how she got it in there, there isn't a great deal of room to spare." Moggie 
had thankfully lapsed into blissful unconsciousness on the rug. "Who is she, 
anyway?"

"Miss Thunderbolt, the headmistress. She was dancing the tango with a golf 
umbrella. Ah, here it comes ... THERE!" I leaned the useless remains of the 
hatstand in the corner and offered the girl my hand. "That sleeping beauty 
over there is Megan Mountains, my bestest friend. And I'm Chauntaille 
Gruntworthy. Shan to my friends."

"Hi, Shan. I'm Corinne Meadowlark. If you let me have this job, I think I 
might quite enjoy it here!"





Chapter 20:- The Job's Yours


Unmusical snores echoed round the room as we sipped our mugs of coffee. 
I was still having trouble with the old spleen as I studied Corinne, trying 
not to make it too obvious. I took a peek at her CV: only twenty-one? With 
what looked like masses of blonde hair tied up in a severe-looking bun, 
she could have been my mother. Yet at the same time, she was so tiny and 
vulnerable. Part of her was, anyway. God, she was fantastic! Even in her 
heels she was still shorter than me. If she took them off ...

The thought was too much for me and I took another sip of coffee, spilling 
most of it down my front. I put down the mug and dabbed at the stain 
with my hankie. Corinne looked concerned.

"Are you all right? It's hot, isn't it!"

"It's all right. It will wash out, thanks." I noticed Corinne had a 
handkerchief of her own in her hand, as if she had been on the verge of 
coming over and wiping up the mess herself. Was that a touch of regret on 
her face when she slipped the hankie back in the top pocket of her blazer. 
Despite her phenomenally huge breasts, she looked so much more ... what's 
the word ... tidy than I ever can. I know, I'm bigger, but Corinne looked 
immaculate. The immaculate conception, I thought, for some reason. That 
blazer was obviously made to measure, so was that skirt. Such a modest 
length, too. Even with her knees crossed. I needed to see Corinne's knees, 
as a matter of some urgency. And that white blouse. Silk, wasn't it? Hidden 
beneath her blazer, what an utter waste!

I felt ridiculously coarse and sluttish in my mid-thigh length skirt, and I 
uncrossed my legs and tried to pull it down. Hopeless! Corinne was smiling 
gently at me.

"Do you mind if I say something? It's a bit personal."

"Go ahead."

"Those two." She gave a nod down at Moggie's corpse, and at Smegs, 
breathing noisily into her panties. "And you. Especially you. You've got 
such *enormous* breasts. And I always thought I was big!"

"Ooooh, but you are! Big, that is. Huge, even! Yours are wonderful. Mine are 
big, I know, but they're not natural."

"Those are *implants*? Come on, Shan! You couldn't get implants that size. 
I mean, look at mine ...!"

"I'm looking, I'm looking!"

"They're real, and bigger than basketballs. You couldn't get implants 
anywhere *near* the size of these, even, and you're twice as big as me! 
What's *your* secret?"

"It's a long story, Corinne. Have you got an hour to spare?"

"For this, I've got all day." She made herself comfortable, although I 
imagined the word 'comfortable' was relative with those things hanging 
round her neck.

I gave her the abridged version, touched briefly on the chemical aspects of 
breast enhancement and its current impact on the student body of St Cat's 
and rounded off with the story of how my own breasts had ballooned from 
five feet to ten in a couple of otherwise uneventful years.

"Golly, Shan!" Corinne looked down at her own monsters and back at me. 
She couldn't look me in the eye, her gaze kept sliding away downwards. 
More or less as mine was. "Are they ... very sensitive?" she whispered.

"You've got to be joking," I whispered back. "One touch of these nipples. 
And round *here*." Trying to look her squarely in the eyes, I let my 
fingers do the walking, describing a shaky circle around where my areola 
might be. Show Corinne how big it is! Not as big as Shona's saucepan lids, 
but big enough for a mouthful. Her eyes widened. I moved on, out to the 
sides of my quivering breasts. "And especially just HERE! Touch me here 
and I'm anybody's!"

"Anybody's? You mean absolutely anybody's?"

"Mmmm!"

"Gosh!" Her little pink tongue came out and moistened her lips.

Look here, spleen. I won't tell you again.

"How about yours?"

"About my what, sorry?"

I couldn't even say the word. "Your ... breasts! Are they sensitive, too?" I 
wanted to go to the lavatory, and crossed my legs again, revealing 
practically the whole of my lower half.

Corinne gave a little gulp. Her voice shook. "It's hard enough to get a bra 
made for these things. Expensive, too. But if I didn't wear one, apart from 
having them dangle down by my ... you know ...?" She blushed prettily. 
Very prettily! "Well, apart from that. I'd be coming all day long!" She 
ended with a bit of a rush, and went bright red. "Oh, God, listen to me. And 
we hardly met five minutes ago. This always happens to me, you know?"

"Does it?"

"No, not really. Not often."

"Good!"

We just sat and looked at each other. We might have been sitting there to 
this day, if Miss Labia hadn't come in. "More coffee?" she dropped her 
voice to a whisper. "God, they're still asleep, those two?"

"Yes please, Labia. Just the two cups. White for me this time. I'm not drunk 
any more. In fact, I'm extremely lucid all of a sudden."

"White for me, too, please, Labia," said Corinne, softly.

"And Hob-nobs, Labia. Any of those Hob-nobs left?"

"Plain chocolate digestives, that's all. Tesco's Economy. Times is hard, Miss."

"So be it, Labia," I sighed.

"That's an unusual name," Corinne said when the secretary had left the 
room.

"It's her surname," I explained, as if that made more sense somehow.

"Oh, I see. That explains everything."

"I suppose," I said, uncertainly, "we'd better get on with the interview, if 
those two are going to carry on snoring the afternoon away. We ought to 
wake them, really. Smegs will be like a bear with a sore head by tonight. 
But I haven't the heart, somehow."

"What's that she's resting her head on?"

"It seems to be her panties. She pee-ed in them."

"Oh, bless her!" Corinne looked at me wistfully. "You love her a lot, don't 
you?"

"What?" My face was aflame down to my neck somewhere. Talk about 
Basic Blushing! "Do I? I never really thought about it," and I put a hand on 
my nose to feel if it was growing. I sat up straight, and cleared my throat. 
"Interview, then?"

"Interview!"

"Moggie's got a job description down here somewhere. S&M Mistress, it 
says."

"Golly, Shan. Could be quite fun reading up all about that."

"Ah, no. Here it is. Support and Mobility Mistress. How does that grab 
you?"

"Sounds just dandy. What does it mean?"

"She's written a few words down. Wheelbarrow technique ... ScatBra 
design, construction and fitting ... custom clothing ... mobility for the Larger 
Breasted Girl..."

"I dunno about the rest of it, but that last bit sounds just like me. I'll take 
it!"

"You're on! Welcome to St Cat's!" I looked at her, between the eyes, this 
time. "Are you sure? You still want to come here after this?" I nodded at 
the rest of the panel of interviewers.

"Of course! If you're as fond of them as you obviously are, there can't be 
much wrong with them. My only regret is that I never saw them awake. 
What about the money?"

"Oh, they pay you, it's all right."

"Oh, excellent. I'm a bit strapped for cash ..."

"How soon can you start?"

"I need to move my stuff. Is there accommodation here at the school?"

"How many rooms do you need? Two or three?"

"Great. How about Monday?"

"Can't fault it, kid! Monday it is, then. You want a hand moving in?"

"I haven't got much gear, just books, a laptop, a few clothes. As you can 
imagine, I'm a difficult size."

"We can help you, there. You know your measurements?"

"Not exactly, no. I'm still growing."

"Golly! Never mind. We can measure you on Monday, then Clit and Flaps 
will run you something up in no time. That's not their real names. We don't 
know their real names. But a finer pair of seamstresses and bra-makers 
you will not find anywhere. Raving lezzies, of course!"

"Of course!"

I blushed again, and stood up quickly. "I'll light a fire in your room, and 
get it warmed up for you." So did Corinne, she had the same difficulty 
getting to her feet as I did. I could feel the moisture practically trickling 
down my thighs.

We held out our hands to each other, but the expected handshake turned 
into a little hug, somehow. 

"Well. See you at the weekend, some time?"

"Sure, okay."

"Bye, then."

"Bye, Shan. And thanks for everything."

"No, it was my pleasure."

"You're just saying that."

"No, I mean it, honestly. Have a Tesco Economy Plain Chocolate Digestive 
for the journey."

"Thanks. Well. Probably Sunday, then. In the morning."

"I'll tell Smegs to get out of bed to help us move you in. I suppose she'll be 
awake by then."

We tiptoed to the door, and closed it quietly behind us, then I watched 
Corinne as she teetered slowly and carefully away down the corridor to the 
main entrance. She held her arms steady by her sides, with her fingers 
extended sideways for balance. She could have been crossing the Niagara 
Falls on a tightrope. 

Even with her arms at her sides, the bulge of her breasts was visible 
beyond her arms. And her hips were so tiny! How could she even stand up, 
let alone walk?

I wondered about her bust size. Smegs would want to know, for sure. My 
breasts were certainly much bigger, but hers seemed almost as heavy as 
mine, somehow.

"Nice kid," said Labia. "Pity we couldn't give her an interview."

"Never mind the interview, I just gave her the job!"

"YOU did?"

"There was nobody else awake. And Miss Meadowlark will do just fine."

Miss Labia was reaching for her dictionary. "Meadowlark," she mused, 
running a finger down the columns. "Strange name, I suppose. Here we are. 
'Meadowlark: - Pipit or TITLARK'. Who ever heard of a bird called a 
titlark?"

"Corinne Meadowlark. Excellent name," I said. "Suits her nicely."


**********

Meanwhile, back in the office, something was stirring. So, Moggie was 
awake. I heard a heavy body blunder into an item of furniture, and a bout 
of fluent swearing. So was Smegs. Time to go in.

"Didn't we have an interview this afternoon?"

"We did, Miss, but she left."

Smegs sat up, peeling her partly dried panties from her face. She swore 
creatively, then clutched her head between her hands. "Strong and black 
this time, Labia," I shouted.

"Coming up!" Three steaming mugs arrived. Moggie took one cautiously and 
sipped. If you looked closely, you could just see her head bulging 
rhythmically where the man with the hammer was pounding away inside.

"Left? You mean she's gone?"

"Yes. Five minutes ago. She got the job. She's eminently suitable."

"Oh, that's all right, then. WHAT?"

"I gave her the job. I explained you weren't drunk all the time and she 
seemed to understand."

Smegs sat up again, pulling her mouth into strange contortions. "Oh, yuck! 
Never again. Never, ever again! Never again!" She could have gone on 
developing that theme for some time, but I stopped her.

"She thought you were sweet, Smegs, sleeping like a baby with your face 
on your panties. They say ammonia's good for the complexion." She took up 
her coffee like a poison draught.

"Did you say she'd gone? And you gave her the job without a proper 
interview?"

"No, we had an excellent interview. We talked about our breasts quite a 
lot."

"How big are they?"

"Smegs, you know how big they are. I've been steady on ten feet for nearly 
..."

"Not yours, arsehole! Hers. Fucking Meadow pipit."

"Lark. Meadowlark. Corinne. I don't know, you saw her photo."

"You mean you didn't measure her?" They screeched that almost in unison, 
as if they'd been rehearsing.

"You don't measure school teachers at job interviews."

"How else can you find out how big their tits are?"

"What does it sodding matter how big her tits are. They are huge! Miles 
bigger than yours. Nearly as big as Moggie, and all natural, home grown. 
She's like Suzanne, and Lim-Bim-Xuoyung Ng, enormous!"

"What size?" Smegs seemed to have an obsession about it. "Sixty? Sixty-
five? Seventy inches?"

"How do I know? Seventy, seventy-five?"

"Aaargh!"

"It doesn't matter. She'll be measured on Monday, when she starts work. 
You'll be able to see then. Meanwhile, she's coming over on Sunday 
morning to move in. I told her I'd light a fire and warm her room up for 
her."

"Why don't you warm her bed up for her as well," snarled Smegs. Poor 
insecure Smegs, jealous as hell.

"I might just do that. If she asks me. At least she won't wake up grumpy 
every morning, smelling like a brewery and not speaking a civil word to 
her bestest friends. You're disgusting!"

Smegs pushed past me and the door slammed behind her. Moggie sat down 
heavily behind her desk. "Perhaps you should have woken us up, Shan. I 
know we were a bit tipsy, but ..."

"You were dancing the tango with a golf umbrella. You tried to seduce the 
hat-stand. You fell asleep on the rug. Smegs crashed out on the desk with 
her face pillowed on her wet knickers ..."

"I wondered why the hat-stand was over in that corner. Is it badly 
broken?" She started to get up to inspect it.

"Fuck the hat-stand!" I yelled. "Listen to me. You don't deserve somebody 
like Corinne Meadowlark working for you. But she still wants to come here, 
despite your performance this afternoon." I spun on my heel, not a simple 
manoeuvre with ten foot tits, and headed on a great circle route for the 
door. I wrenched it open, and Miss Labia came reeling past me into the 
office and measured her length on the floor. She had evidently been 
listening at the keyhole.

The girls had finished classes for the week. Little groups of them were 
making their way to their dorms and common rooms. They looked 
sideways at me with respectful glances as I passed. Nobody said a word to 
me. My expression must have been enough to put them off. In through the 
door of Smegs's room I slammed, without thinking.

There was a hunched shape on the bed in the darkness. Although she was 
lying over on her side of the bed, I hesitated to lie down next to her. I 
chose the armchair instead, having to pick up several items of an intimate 
nature. Why couldn't the slovenly cow pick her gear up after her, the place 
was like a garbage tip. I had been sitting there for five silent minutes 
before my anger died away, to be replaced by empty desolation. I wanted 
to lie down and cry my eyes out, but the bed was occupied.

"Megan?" I whispered it as quietly as I could, in case she heard me.

"Smegs?" A little louder. She stiffened as I touched her back. "Turn over 
this way. Please." 

"Don't want to."

The phone rang. I picked it up without thinking. "Miss ... Miss Mountains' 
room."

"Shan? It's Corinne."

"Corinne, hi! Did Labia put you through to this room?"

"She said you'd be there. Look, I changed my mind ...!"

"You mean ...?"

"Yes. Could I move in tomorrow instead of Sunday? If it's extra work for 
you, forget it, but if you can, it would be lovely. I thought it would give me 
a chance to get settled in at St Cat's on the Sunday. Last day of freedom 
and everything?"

"Course you can. Hey, I'll go and light your fire now. What time? Ten-
thirty? Great. See you then."

I slammed the phone down and changed into jeans and a huge sweater, 
then bolted out of the room and down the corridor to the empty room next 
to mine. As I closed Smegs's door behind me, I thought I heard a faint cry, 
but maybe it was just one of the girls shouting outside.





Chapter 21:- A New Girl At St Cat's 


It was the same as my room, only the other way around. Whoever had 
designed the staff living quarters had decided that the St Cat's teachers 
would be so hard-working and dedicated, they would eat in the school 
restaurant, mark a few exercises in the staff room and retire to their 
narrow beds, exhausted.

Hence, the layout of the rooms. Moggie's was more or less palatial, round 
the corner and down the corridor. Smegs had graduated to the Deputy 
Headmistress's room, and even with our double bed, she had room to 
swing an average cat, and there was even a small kitchen with plenty of 
room to unwrap a Chinese takeaway banquet for eight persons. "It's a cat 
o' nine tails," I tried to explain to her, "not a real cat. It means there would 
have been room to swing a cat o' nine tails, one of those whip things they 
used to use on ships to beat naughty sailors to a bloody pulp." She didn't 
take the hint. I don't think she believed me.

Smegs even had a little en suite shower and toilet, which was a blessing to 
the other occupants of the block, given Smegs's occasional dietary 
deviations, although no comfort to me when I shared her room.

The ordinary teachers' bedrooms were rather more Spartan. A single bed 
took up most of the usable space, and there was a wardrobe, a chest of 
drawers cum dressing table for my bras and stuff, and a little desk thing 
where you could have a computer. No good for me, of course, I can only 
type standing up. So, I figured, would Corinne. She would have the same 
problem, although I realised I was looking forward to watching her try and 
perhaps fail in the attempt.

The fire was crackling in the grate, there were crisp new sheets and a 
fresh duvet cover on the little bed, and I went through into the domestic 
area to tidy things up in there. The designer of the staff living quarters 
must have had some romance in his soul, because he had allowed each pair 
of bedrooms to share an adjoining room which wasn't really big enough to 
call a kitchen. It had a sink, and hot water, a table to do your ironing, and a 
microwave that scared me rigid ever since it had cremated my sweet and 
sour crispy prawn balls with special fried rice one Saturday night when 
Smegs had gone off somewhere on her own in search of some hot cock.

Perhaps a toilet would have been a nice thought, as well as a kitchen, but 
perhaps the designer felt that while re-heating snack meals was a 
necessity for young teaching staff, shitting was a luxury, and better 
conducted twenty yards away down a chilly corridor.

Right now, the kitchen needed cleaning out, and more importantly, a clear 
thoroughfare had to be established for me to get from my room to 
Corinne's, and perhaps vice versa. Better she should arrive and find it a 
fait accompli, this ease of access between our rooms. I dragged the table 
and the microwave out of the way, and practised coming out of my room 
and straight into hers. I got it down to seven seconds, although I bruised 
my tit badly on the edge of the table top.

I was even tempted to do a swap. Corinne seemed to have a much cosier 
room than me. But when I thought of moving all my clothes and junk, I 
decided to let it go. Perhaps it was the roaring fire that made it seem such 
a nice room. Mine was cold and empty. The bed felt moist. I went back in 
and shut the kitchen door. Sat down on the bed and thought about Smegs. 
Why did she have to be so horrible to me all the time? I didn't really even 
want to nip along the way to her familiar room with its comfortable bed 
and its assorted smells, not all pleasant, but familiar all the same. Smegs 
would be there, we could make up, I could say sorry, we'd have a cuddle 
and go to bed.

She wasn't there. Her bed was rumpled and empty. Her interview clothes 
were in a dank pile on the floor. She'd gone out, the bitch, and never even 
thought of inviting me, her bestest friend. Bitch, bitch, bitch!


**********

When I woke up, it was daylight. It hadn't been daylight when I awoke the 
last time, and the three times before that. The bed was icy and I was the 
only one in it. Smegs's clutter was still disgracing the carpet-tiled floor. She 
hadn't come back, the filthy slut. She'd roll in about midday, stinking of 
booze and cigarettes and sex and then she'd just want to lie around all 
afternoon reading some smutty book, playing with herself and farting.

With an armful of my clothes, I trailed back into my own bleak room and 
dressed, in a foul mood. I went through the kitchen into Corinne's room, 
thinking as I did that this would be the last time I'd be able to come 
through this way without knocking politely. She might even keep the door 
locked! The fire had nearly gone out, although I had banked it up last 
night. It took ten minutes work with the poker and a newspaper held in 
front of the grate before it began to roar comfortingly. Stone-age man 
certainly knew what he was doing when he invented fire. The spirits were 
starting to recover when I pulled on my most enormous sweater and set 
off for the restaurant for scrambled eggs on toast, and maybe a kipper or 
two, even though I knew they would remind me of my bestest friend.

"Hi, Miss!"

"Hi, Toria, sit down." The girl straddled a chair and watched me splosh 
marmalade on to a piece of toast.

"I see. Suzanne and Pansy have just got new bras." Ah, I thought it wasn't 
just a social visit. I poured a fresh dollop of tea into my cup and offered 
the pot to Victoria. She refused it with a shudder.

"Don't you eat breakfast?"

"I can't face food at this time of morning."

"No wonder you're always complaining about your sister getting a bigger 
bust than you. You have to eat *something*, Toria."

She refused to play. "Scrambled eggs and marmalade don't make tits 
grow," she said. As one-liners go, it wasn't a bad one. "We've had all this 
out before, Miss. Every time you let mine get bigger, you let those two kids 
have twice as much."

"Yours are still very lovely, you know." I gazed at them. They jiggled, oh, so 
gently beneath her T-shirt. She wasn't wearing a bra this morning, and her 
nipples were rude little points surrounded by radial creases in the soft 
cotton. Nice shirt.

Toria snorted like a pig. She saw me looking and crossed her arms in front 
of her chest. The movement squashed her breasts in every possible 
direction except forwards, and my eyes nearly fell out on to my plate, 
marmalade and all. She was getting far too big to do that and get away 
with it. "It's no good them being lovely if they're half the size of my 
sister's. And a third the size of my cousin's!"

"Don't exaggerate, Toria! I've told you a mill ..."

"I'm not exaggerating! You haven't seen them, have you? Pansy's huge 
now. Huge! And Suzanne ..." she couldn't think of a word to describe 
Suzanne. I thought of a few I could have offered her, but she'd gone, 
overturning her chair with a crash that caused several girls to look in my 
direction as I stared after Toria's departing figure. Magnificent in retreat. 
Full, bouncing breasts, a slender waist and in her tight jeans, the most 
delightful bottom in the Third Form, with enough daylight between the top 
of her legs to accept the width of my hand, palm uppermost, third finger 
slightly raised. I poured another cup of tea with trembling fingers.


**********

"Have you seen Megan, Chauntaille?"

"No, Miss, not this morning."

Moggie raised an eyebrow slightly. "I thought you two ..." she thought 
better of it, whatever she had been going to say. "I know it's Saturday, but 
I did want to ask her something before I dash off for the weekend. I might 
be late back on Monday. Perhaps you could explain to Miss Meadowlark 
when she arrives on Monday that I have been away on business and I will 
see her as soon as I return."

"Sure. She's arriving today to move her stuff in. I'm giving her a hand."

"She's a fast worker, anyway. Have you found her a room?"

"Yes, Miss. The one next to mine, with the shared kitchen. I've made her 
bed and lit the fire to air the room a bit."

Moggie's eyebrows were almost in orbit by this time. "Excellent. Most 
convenient, having an empty room so close to yours, you'll be able to look 
after her. Pity, really, I won't be able to see her before I go, but ..."

Not so fast, Inspector.

"If you've got five minutes, Miss, I think this might be her now."

"What? Now?"

A taxi had pulled up outside the main entrance and the driver was lifting 
two large suitcases out of the back. Despite being dressed far more casually 
than at her interview, Corinne was unmistakeable in profile as she 
rummaged for some change in her purse. It can't have been easy, doing 
that at arms' length. The taxi driver was watching her with his eyes out on 
stalks as she counted the money into his shaking palm.

"That's her?" Moggie's voice trembled.

"That's her. Let's go over and introduce you."

"I can't. Not now! She can't see me out here."

I peered at Moggie. She didn't seem invisible to me. "She'll be dying to 
meet you, come on!"

"No!" I was nearly dragging Moggie along by the hand. Girls were staring at 
us in curiosity and open amazement. Other girls were staring at Corinne 
with fascination and envy. Moggie gasped as we got closer. "Look at the 
size of those things!" she whispered.

I already was. I didn't need a written invitation to look at the size of 
Corinne's breasts. She'd obviously decided it was a good day to wear her 
best bra. I felt a genuine need to shake the hand of her bra maker. The 
ScatBra is one thing, but for a conventional bra to support a pair of tit's 
like Corinne's the way they were being supported right now was the work 
of a true genius.

"Are you sure she's twenty-one?" Moggie spoke out of the side of her 
mouth.

"It said so on her CV, college and everything."

I could see what Moggie meant, though. Corinne in her flat shoes was tiny, 
and her hair wasn't in a bun any more. Pulled back in a pony tail, it hung 
down her back past her waist. Apart from those basketballs inside her 
sweater, she looked about twelve.

She'd spotted us, and her lovely face lit up. My spleen went into a warm-
up routine. The sun came out, birds began clearing their throats. The taxi 
driver almost went into a song and dance number, accompanied by a 
hundred prancing scantily-dressed schoolgirls and a forty-piece orchestra. 
Almost. In fact, he clambered behind the wheel and drove off, only stalling 
the engine twice.

"Moggie, this is Corinne. Corinne Meadowlark, Miss Ella Wheeler 
Thunderbolt, Headmistress of St Catherine's High School for Girls."

"How do you do, Corinne, and welcome to St Cat's," said Moggie, stiffly.

"My pleasure, Miss Thunderbolt. I've heard so much about St Cat's, and 
your work here. It's been an ambition to come here, although I never even 
dreamed ..."

Steady on, young Corinne, I thought. No need to lay it on with a bloody 
shovel. Corinne brought her speech to a close, leaving Moggie with her 
mouth opening and closing like a freshly-beached kipper.

"We hope you'll be very happy here. I'm sure, now I've met you, you will 
fit in."

"Oh, you mean my ... well, these? Well, I must confess, I never expected to 
find myself in such company." She looked around her at the St Cat's girls 
who had crawled out of the woodwork to stare at the new arrival. They 
were their usual Saturday morning sluttish selves, all tightly-jeaned 
bottoms and thrusting unsupported breasts. "Even some of the girls seem 
to have caught it. Is it something in the water round here?"

"You could say that, yes," agreed Moggie, uncomfortably. She had just 
caught sight of Suzanne and Pansy on the outskirts of the group of 
Corinne's admirers. Moggie and I exchanged significant glances. Toria had 
been right, I reflected with horror. Obviously, the two cousins were still 
breaking in their new ScatBras and had elected to try the maximum 
support position for enhanced impact.

Corinne noticed the direction of our gaze, and a look of panic came over her 
face at the sight of the two outrageous little girls. "Even the younger girls!" 
she sounded suitably awestruck. Suzanne and Pansy would have been 
gratified if they had been close enough to hear.

"Are your cases heavy?" I tried one, and it barely left the ground. Her 
driver must have been blessed with the strength of ten men.

"The other two are lighter. That one's mostly books and my computer stuff. 
Is there a janitor or something?"

"We can take these in, then call Jeremy." I took one case, Corinne took the 
other. Moggie made her farewells and climbed into her BMW. "Jeremy is 
sort of my boyfriend," I explained as we went up the stairs. I had to stop 
halfway and change hands.

"That's the case with my bras and clothes. Sorry!"

Funny how she listed her bras before her clothes. Probably in order of 
expense.

"Your boyfriend? Funny, I rather thought you ..." Corinne stopped, 
embarrassed. 

We arrived at her room and I opened the door. It was warm and cosy. The 
sun, which had come out when Corinne first smiled outside, was now 
beaming through the window on to the flowered bed cover, flames danced 
in the fireplace and a robin was perched on the window-sill peering at his 
reflection in the glass.

We dumped the cases. "Oh, Shan, it's lovely!" She bounced on the bed like a 
child, practically sitting on her hair. Even when she stopped bouncing, her 
breasts carried on for a while. She stopped the movement with both hands, 
apparently without thinking. Then she looked around the room again, at 
the appalling wallpaper and the little framed prints of British Wild 
Flowers. She giggled musically, got up and went to the window and looked 
out over the quad,  with its fountain still busily saving the planet. Her face 
was alight when she turned round. "I can't believe how lovely everything 
is! Where's your room?"

"Through that door there," I blurted. "I mean, that's the kitchen. We share 
the same kitchen. Well, more of a utility room, really, but there's a 
microwave in there, and a kettle." I showed her around the facilities. It 
didn't take me long. "My room is through there," I said, indicating my door. 
"It's the same as this, but the other way around."

We wandered back into her little room and she heaved a case on to the 
bed. "I'd better call Jeremy, before someone runs off with your case." I 
picked up the phone.

"Shan! I'm sorry, what I said just now. About Jeremy and everything. It's 
just that ... well, after seeing the way you talked about Megan, and looked 
at her ... I just assumed you were, well, lovers!" Corinne was blushing 
deeply. Prettily, too.

Without realising what I was doing, I took something out of her case and 
stood with it in my hand. "It's all right, honestly. Jeremy was my first time. 
And I was his. He lived in Fillamore Deepleigh, we both lived there, and 
we, sort of ... did it! Not very well."

"Where? In the back of a car?"

"A Jag!"

"Gosh!" I could tell she was impressed.

"It wasn't even his. He worked in a garage and it was in for repair. But he's 
bought it since. He parks it outside his shed, here at St Cat's."

"Shan, how absolutely romantic!"

"I suppose so."

"So, you and Megan, you don't ... I mean, you're not ..."

"Oh, yes! Well, we were. I'm not so sure this morning. She got a bit upset 
yesterday after the interview and I screamed at her. She went out last 
night and she hasn't come back."

"That's terrible! Has she done that sort of thing before?"

"All the time. Sometimes she fancies something I can't give her, and she 
goes and finds it. She's big enough to look after herself. In fact, I wouldn't 
fancy the chances of any boy who tried anything on with Smegs, not unless 
she wanted it. I imagine last night, she wanted it."

The sun had gone behind a cloud. The flames were replaced by a little gust 
of smoke that slipped out into the room. The robin had flown off 
somewhere. I looked at the garment I was holding and held it it up. It was 
an enormous pink bra.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to ..." I handed it to her.

"Look at the size of this bloody thing!" She toyed with the bra for a while, 
stretching the elastic a couple of times. "Pity it's too small. I only keep it in 
case I lose a few inches one day. No chance, the way things are going."

"You say you're still growing?"

She nodded, going red. "I'll tell you all about it later. Did your Jeremy 
answer that phone?"

"No reply, sorry." I'd forgotten the phone was still pressed to one ear, going 
brrr, brrr! I put it down carefully. MY Jeremy, she'd called him. And MY 
Smegs? "Let's go fetch your case anyway. We can manage it between us."





Part VIII





Chapter 22:- A Missing Person


When do you start getting worried when your bestest friend doesn't come 
home? An hour or two? Lunchtime? Late afternoon? Bedtime?

Okay, I should have noticed, but Corinne and I were so busy unpacking; 
stowing all her stuff away, all her nice interesting clothes; getting her 
laptop computer thingie working. She even had a modem and a connection 
to the Internet, and it was well dark outside before we'd finished getting 
that to work without blowing every fuse in the school switchboard. She 
used it standing up, I noticed. Perhaps if she took her bra off, she could see 
the keyboard ...

"... you must be getting worried about Megan, aren't you?"

I went red. Confession time. I hadn't even thought of Smegs more than half 
a dozen times all day since finding her room still empty this morning. Now 
here it was, getting late, and she still hadn't showed up.

"Are you sure she's done this before? As long as this, I mean?"

"She's disappeared before, but not as long as this, no. She usually gets 
home before lunchtime."

"Has she gone home for the weekend? You could ring her folks ..."

"She hasn't anybody. Only an aunt up North that she hates. She hasn't 
anywhere to go but here. This *is* her home, Corinne."

Corinne came closer. I was sitting on her bed and I suppose I must have 
suddenly started to look worried. She sat next to me, our breasts bumping 
against each other as the bed sagged. Normally, we might have laughed, 
but somehow - although we were both aware of it - we said nothing. Her 
arm was around my shoulders. Her fingers were digging into my upper 
arm. Little soft fingers, but strong, somehow. She gave me a squeeze.

"Should we call the police, Shan?"

"The police? But what if she's not lost, if nothing's happened. She'll create 
merry hell if we've set the police on her."

"The hospitals?"

"Corinne, don't, please!" Her arm tightened its grip.

"Give me the number of the local hospital. I'll try the police as well. You go 
and put the kettle on. White coffee for me, no sugar." Corinne picked up 
the phone and tapped out three nines. That's done it, I thought, this is now 
officially an emergency. I could hardly see through the tears as I went into 
the kitchen and filled the kettle. In the background, I could hear Corinne 
talking to the operator. 

"Shan, quick!" I hurried through. Surely they haven't found her already? 
She's not ...

"What is it?"

"Megan Mountains. Yes, last night. Twenty-two?" Corinne looked at me for 
confirmation. "How tall, Shan?"

"Five ten."

"Five ten, blonde hair, shortish. What was she last seen wearing?"

I choked. "I don't know! She went out without ..."

Corinne gave a few more details, a number, gave her name, spelled it out. 
"Yes, Meadowlark, like the bird," and put the phone down. I was well away 
by then, bawling my eyes out. She didn't even say a word, she just held me 
tight until I quietened down a bit.

"Where did Miss Thunderbolt go?"

"I don't know. Business, she said."

"Shan, try to think. Boyfriend? Does she have a regular boyfriend?" 

"Not regular, you could try ... oh, I can't remember his name, he's on the 
school board of governors. I don't even know where he lives. I'm USELESS! 
And it's all my fault Smegs has gone, and now she's ... she could be...!"

"Are there any more teachers around, Shan? We need to get something 
organised. Think, love, come on!"

Think! How can I think?

A police car came up the drive, its siren whooping. We already had an 
emergency. Now we had a drama as well.


**********

Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen was in residence. She heard the police car 
arrive, and emerged from her room, fully dressed and immaculately made 
up. "Is it a fire?" she asked, in a voice filled with hope. But she provided 
moral support as we sat in Corinne's little room, trying to help the police 
with their enquiries.

There was a nice police woman who sat with us, totally engrossed by the 
size of Corinne's and my bosoms. She was taking notes, but was unable to 
keep her eyes away from the two pairs of heaving breasts which seemed 
to be occupying half the room. "Are you a teacher, Miss, or one of the 
students?" Corinne still had her hair in a ponytail and looked about twelve.

"I'm the teacher who called you, Corinne Meadowlark. This is Chauntaille 
Gruntworthy, she's Miss Mountains' friend."

The policewoman looked at me sharply, probably wondering where I had 
dumped the body. A jealous lover?

"Have we any idea what she was wearing, Miss Gruntworthy?"

I led the way into Smegs's room and we plundered her wardrobe, sorting 
out the clothes and avoiding the mysterious black plastic sacks filling the 
wardrobe. "Don't open those!" I told the policewoman. Mercifully, she 
didn't. I bet she made notes in her book that I was storing female body 
parts in a wardrobe.

At last, by a process of elimination, we worked out that Smegs was 
probably wearing cord jeans, Doc Martens, a stripey shirt and possibly her 
bright red sweater.

"Build?" asked the policewoman.

"Sorry?"

"Her build. Miss ... Mountains?" Her eyes rolled in their sockets as she 
confirmed the name of the missing person from a form. "Megan. How tall? 
Slim? Well-built? Stocky? Obese?"

"Sixty, twenty-four, thirty-five." The policewoman's pen wrote a few 
strokes, then stopped in disbelief. She looked up at me from the page and I 
continued. "Five feet ten and a little bit. Athletic, apart from her ... you 
know? Blonde hair, shortish, hangs down across her eyes and she has to 
keep flicking it away ..." No good, I was too choked to say any more.

"Thanks, sweetheart. You've given us a lot of help." The policewoman 
stared at the unlikely measurements she had written down, but after she 
had looked again at Corinne and me, she evidently decided not to say 
anything more. She closed her book with a little plop and stood up. She 
was going. Back to the station for sandwiches and a cup of Bovril or 
whatever the constabulary had for their duty supper in the police canteen.

"Look after her," she said softly as she left, and Corinne nodded. She 
already was looking after me.

Minutes later, we stood in my cheesy little room. "Your bed's freezing! 
Damp! You can't sleep in there." She led me by the hand into her room. 
"You can have the bed. I'll stay by the phone. That armchair looks 
comfortable enough for me anyway." She even turned away politely when 
I undressed, with numb fingers, and slid between the clean sheets.

I know I woke up once and saw her tapping away at her keyboard with 
the desk lamp pulled down close so it didn't shine on the bed and keep me 
awake. In my muddled state I noticed that she was managing to use a 
laptop although her lap was fully occupied. Extremely fully.

She was so young-looking, and fragile, and tiny, and vulnerable, and 
lovely. Yet so capable. She had just walked in and taken over. Finding 
Smegs, looking after me. I turned my face into the pillow and cried, 
making just enough noise so she could hear me. Corinne let me cry for a 
few minutes, then I felt the bed dip under her weight. The weight of her 
huge breasts? Then her sweet breath was on my wet cheek, and her lips ...

I could sleep soundly now.


**********

"How d'you like your tea, Shan?"

Smegs wouldn't ask me that. Not only did Smegs know exactly how I took 
my tea, a cavalcade of wild horses would never have persuaded her to 
make me a cup in the morning. A face swam into focus. Long blonde hair, 
pure blue eyes: weary eyes, but still bright.

"I brought you a cup, here, sit up. It's just gone seven o' clock." I 
shuddered. Seven o' clock on a Sunday morning? Was there even such a 
time? I took the mug from Corinne's tiny hand, our fingers touching 
briefly. It felt like a little electric shock. This was ridiculous, I thought.

"No news from the police, but they said not to worry. They're trying all the 
usual places, whatever that means. Here. Sit up straighter." She shoved a 
pillow behind me, and I tried to touch her hand with my lips as she 
withdrew it.

"Thanks." She looked knackered. "Did you sleep at all?"

"A bit. I dozed off in the armchair." She yawned, and sank down, sitting on 
the edge of the narrow bed, her head going down on to the pillow. Oh the 
poor love, she was exhausted!

"I'll get up and you can have a couple of hours. Come on." I took a gulp of 
the tea. Mother used to have a teaspoon with the words 'Tea Revives You' 
embossed inside the bowl. Until now, I'd been sceptical. Not any more.

I got out of Corinne's bed, and found my clothes, dressed quickly and 
stirred the fire. A couple of tired embers glowed and I tipped a few lumps 
of coal on top. "I'll have to clear out the ashes later. Do you fancy 
breakfast? They start serving at seven thirty, even at weekends. I'll go and 
brush my teeth."

Corinne wasn't answering. She was out like a light, dribbling slightly into 
her pillow. A strand of hair was across her eyes and mouth, lifting slightly 
each time she breathed. I tucked it away, then lifted her legs carefully on 
to the bed. They weighed nothing. She was lying on the duvet, and now 
that her feet were up on the bed, I had rolled her on to her back. No 
chance of moving her off the duvet to cover her up properly.

More than anything in the world, I wanted to undress her, make her 
comfortable. At least, on her back, her boobs weren't getting squashed. I 
slipped her sensible little black shoes off. Her feet were tiny, in pink socks. 
Little feet, little hands. Shan, for God's sake, cover the girl up before you do 
something unfortunate. I fetched the duvet from my room and gently 
covered her. She stirred in her sleep, but didn't wake, even when I 
smoothed back her hair and kissed her forehead.


**********

Corinne was just waking when I came back from breakfast, clutching a 
crisp bacon sandwich wrapped in a paper napkin. "Hungry? I brought you 
a little snack."

She fell on it and it disappeared in five seconds flat. "What's the time?" She 
put a hand across her mouth and her eyes opened wide as she gave a 
refined belch. She bit her lip and looked thoroughly ashamed of herself. 
"God, you are a little pig, Meadowlark!" she muttered.

"Just gone half past eight. Starting to rain. I hope Smegs isn't out in it. Did 
the law say we should call them again?"

"No, they said they'd call us if anything came up. That bacon sarnie was 
lovely. I must have been starving."

"Did you want something else? They're still serving breakfast, I think."

"No, I'll last out. But a cup of coffee would be ..."

The phone rang. And again. "I'm frightened, Corinne!" 

"Shall I?" Corinne reached for the phone. "Hello, Corinne Meadowlark."

She listened for a moment, then without a word she handed it to me.

"Shan? That you?"

"Smegs? Smegs, is that you. Where are you? We've been looking 
everywhere. The police, everything. Where are you, at the police station?"

Her voice was cracking, she sounded muffled.

"I'm at Fillamore Deepleigh. The police? Shan, why? What's happened?"

"What's *happened*? You bloody disappeared without a word, that's what's 
happened. We've been worried sick, the police are dragging all the rivers 
and searching the woods. I'll have to call them and tell them you're all 
right. Why didn't you just say something?" I could see Corinne waving her 
arms about, trying to tell me something, shaking her head until her hair 
flopped around and her breasts wobbled massively beneath her sweater.

"Shan, don't be mad!" Smegs's voice wasn't muffled, she was crying into the 
phone. "I'm calling from Baps's house. I haven't slept all night. I don't 
know what to doooooo!"

There was no use both of us crying, it wasn't going to solve anything. But I 
tried to speak, and nothing would come out but a croak. I shook my head 
and gave the phone to Corinne. "Say something!" I gasped.

"Megan," I heard her say. "Corinne. I know. You don't know me. No, Shan 
can't talk at the moment. She can't SAY anything. How soon can you get 
back before this poor girl breaks down completely? She hasn't slept either, 
and nor have I!" The voice at the other end said something, just odd words 
with long gaps in between. "That's all right, I'll call off the police dogs. I'll 
tell them you're safe and sound. By train? On your own? No, no way on 
your own!" Another silence, while Corinne drummed her fingers on the 
desk and examined her fingernails. My insides were turning to water as 
she looked up at me and grinned, then started speaking again.

"You've got a return ticket? Good. Shan sends you all her love, you hear? 
Right. Okay! We'll see you soon. Take care." She puffed out her cheeks and 
put the phone down. "Wow! Is she always like that?"

"Like what? She was crying."

"Worse than that. She was going on about how sorry she was and she'd 
make it up to you if you were still here when she got back, and would I 
explain to her. That's you I have to explain to, not her. I dunno what it is 
you two have got going, but I hope I never catch it! Well, not too soon, 
anyway," she said more softly, catching sight of my face.

"She's coming back today?"

"Who's Cassandra?" Corinne went off at a tangent.

"Cassandra? Cassie? That's Baps's little sister. Well, not so little! She's 
bigger than both of us, and she's no age at all. She works at Baps's Girl 
Dairy. Baps is my old girlfriend from Fillamore Deepleigh. What about 
Cassandra, anyway?"

"She needs to come up to St Cat's, for some reason, urgently. She's going to 
come up with Megan and they can look after each other on the train. 
Bigger than *you*, even?" I nodded. "This I must see!"

"She's big all over." I imitated a gorilla, without the sound effects. "But her 
tits are gigantic. Brobdingnagian, actually. She's really a sweetie. You'll like 
her. I wonder what she wants."

"Smegs said something about another new bra, or something."

"Another? She's only had that one a couple of weeks! Bloody hell, Corinne. 
Forget what I told you about how big she is. Cassie's even bigger than 
that." I watched Corinne as she gathered up her hair and inspected the 
ends of her pony tail. "How did Smegs take to you? I mean, you've never 
met or anything."

"Dunno. Once she calmed down, she sounded relieved. As if ... I don't know. 
Anyway, she's coming back. That's all that matters!" She clapped her hand 
across her mouth. "Hey, I'd better call the fuzz. They'll be dragging all 
those rivers, still! At least, I can make their day."

"And mine, Corinne! Thanks for everything!"

She was laughing as she unwound my arms from around her neck.

"Hey, save it for Megan, right? Shan, get off, please!" She held me at arms's 
length. She was surprisingly strong for a little girl. Must have been 
something to do with carrying those bloody great things around for half 
her life. She giggled again, infectiously. "That's better. Honestly, carry on 
like that, and I won't be responsible for my actions. How's about that 
coffee, anyway?"

I floated into the kitchen on silver wings, still feeling the spot where 
Corinne's fingers had casually brushed the outside of my breast; hearing 
Corinne's lovely, oh-so-competent voice as she explained to the nice 
policewoman that Smegs was all right, and she was on her way back to St 
Cat's - home to her loved ones.

"How d'you take it again?" I called, and felt the performing spleen do a 
triple Salchow as Corinne blew me a kiss, her blue eyes sparkling and full 
of fun.

"Any way you care to do it, Shan-tail!"





Chapter 23:- Reunion


I must have jumped up ten times if it was once. The last time, I didn't get 
up at all.

"Is that a car?" Corinne went to the window. "Look, it is, see the 
headlights." I joined her, pulling back the curtains.

"It must be a taxi, it stopped at the front door, where they always stop. It's 
them, isn't it? I'll go and see."

"Take a coat if you're going outside, you're shivering already, look." That 
was nerves, Corinne. I took the jacket she offered me.

"Hey, nice one. Nearly fits, too!" A towel hit the wall above my head as I 
ducked happily and went out of the door. It was the taxi, I saw Smegs 
signing the chit for the driver to put it on the St Cat's taxi account. Cassie 
was getting out of the other side with an overnight bag. Smegs, of course, 
had no baggage at all. I was out of the door in the drizzling rain, wrapping 
myself around Smegs as the taxi pulled away and Cassie watched us 
uncertainly.

"Smegs, I missed you so much. I was terrified something had happened to 
you. We looked everywhere, and it was all my fault for being so rotten to 
you, darling ..." Kiss, kiss, kiss, snog, snog, snog. Smegs wasn't exactly being 
passive through all this. If we didn't get indoors, we'd have been tearing 
each other's clothes off right there on the gravel path.

"Let's get in," she said at last. Poor Cassie was glad to get inside anyway.

"Hello, Shan," she said, shyly, perhaps a little taken aback by our 
passionate greeting.

"Hi, Cassie. Sorry about keeping you outside. What brings you down here 
again?"

"Same again. My bra shrunk!"

"One way of looking at it, I suppose. Let's have a look at you." She stood 
under the lights in the lobby. "Bloody hell, Cass, you don't go in for half 
measures, do you! You must be bigger than your sister now."

"I was bigger than her *last* time they grew. She got all nasty until she 
realised she could borrow my new clothes. She can have them now, they 
don't fit me any more. Sweaters, three made to measure shirts, and three 
new ScatBras. Mum's right pissed off. And I'm Cassandra now, I've decided. 
It sounds a bit more grown up."

I linked arms with Smegs and grown up Cassandra took my other arm. 
"Come on. Corinne's put the kettle on and I lit the fire in your room. We've 
tidied up a bit. Cass, you can have my bed tonight. We lit the fire in there 
as well."

"Can I get milked in the morning, Shan?"

"Oh, Cass, darling! I forgot. Can you express it yourself?"

"It seems a horrible waste, Shan," Smegs squeezed my arm. "Can't we just 
milk her and keep it for our coffee?"

"I suppose so." No arguments with Smegs for at least twenty-four hours, I 
had promised myself. We had arrived at my door. "This is yours, Cass. 
Make yourself comfortable then come next door. We'll see you there."

"Okay, Shan," she giggled, thrilled at being away from home for the night.

"Come on, Smegs. Time to meet the new teacher." She looked nervous. I 
pulled her behind me, her feet dragging in protest.

"Smegs, meet Corinne Meadowlark. Corinne, the long-lost Smegs."

Corinne looked a little apprehensive, but then she saw Smegs's expression. 
She held out her arms to the taller girl and without a word they hugged 
each other, not saying a word. At last, they pulled back to arms' length, 
looking each other up and down.

"Shan was right about one thing," Smegs said softly. "You've got the most 
amazing tits!" Corinne blushed prettily. She was learning the ropes by now. 
"But she didn't do you justice. She forgot to mention how lovely you are. 
Our Shan's a very forgetful girl, sometimes."

"Find a seat," Corinne bustled away into the kitchen. "I found a big can of 
soup. Where's Cassie? Is she coming in?"

"She's Cassandra now, apparently. She just grew up. In a minute. She'll 
have some."

"Mugs be all right? We're fresh out of soup bowls and spoons." Corinne 
brought in three steaming mugs and set them down. "Don't burn your 
tongues, it's boiling hot."

"No, mother!"

Corinne aimed a gentle punch at my arm.

"What did the police say?" Smegs cupped her hands round her mug and 
gazed into the steam as if looking into the future.

"I spoke to the nice policewoman." Corinne dipped a finger into her soup 
and fished out a speck of detritus. "I should have washed the mugs, really. 
She may want to see us tomorrow. She said we did the right thing, calling 
them. It's a pity, she said, but it would have been worse if we hadn't ... and 
something had happened." We were in danger of getting morbid. Cassandra 
saved us by knocking on the door and poking her head round it.

"Come on, Cass. Grab your soup and tell us all the news."


**********

"You were right!" Corinne shook her head. "Can she hear us through that 
door? She is bloody preposterous, isn't she! But does she always go to bed 
early?"

"She gets up early at home. Five o' clock for the milking. So she's in bed by 
ten. And she's only a kid. No age at all. Anyway, that's a good word, Cee," 
said Smegs. "Preposterous? We haven't used that one. Where does it rate 
alongside gargantuan?"

"Or Brobdingnagian?"

We were quiet for a bit.

"Funny you should call me that. They called me Cee at school. When they 
talked to me at all, that was."

"Well talk to you, Cee," I told her, squeezing her hand.

"Thanks, Shan!" And she didn't insist on having her hand back.

"I don't know about Cass," Smegs stretched her ams above her head. "But 
I'm knackered myself. I didn't sleep much, with one thing and another."

"If you two are tired, don't wait up for me, darlings. I had a bit of a rough 
night myself!"

"Oh, Cee, you didn't sleep at all. Smegs, she spent the entire night in that 
chair while I was in her bed. Let's leave the girl to get some sleep."

"Well, in that case, Cee." Smegs stood up and offered me her hand. I felt 
embarrassed somehow. Blushing, I touched Corinne on the arm.

"Thanks for everything, Cee. Breakfast at seven thirty?" I said, and Smegs 
groaned. I suddenly hugged Corinne to me and we clung together.

"Hey, lover girl, go to bed and have a cuddle or whatever. We're going to 
be a great team, but not until tomorrow, all right?"


**********

"That's her, Pan!"

"Where?" Pansy craned to see over the heads of the other girls at 
breakfast. "What? That little blonde one? She's only a girl!"

Suze sniggered. "She might look like a girl, but she's got real woman's 
titties."

"They're not as big as Shona's."

"Not many people *are* as big as Shona. But those things are heavy. Look 
at how she walks."

"What's she going to teach?" 

"Support and Mobility," announced Suzanne importantly. "That will be all 
about bras and wheelbarrows and stuff."

"And how to get on buses," suggested Shona. "They won't let me take my 
barrow on a bus."

"And typing," offered Anastasia.

"A whole teacher just for that?" Pansy sniffed. "She'll have it easy."

"Not if she has to teach the whole school," said Suzanne. "Now even the 
Juniors are getting huge, we all have to learn about it. It's vital!"

"Looks like she needs a new bra herself." Pansy knew about such things. 
"That's not a Scat she's wearing."

"She's getting measured today. This morning."

"How do you hear all this, Miss Know-all?"

Suzanne swelled with pride. It was hardly necessary, given her current 
state of development. "Miss Gruntworthy told me. She said we might be 
able to measure the new teacher, since we're the Junior Statistics Group."

"Gosh! Will they let us?" Anastasia was staring at Corinne across the 
crowded restaurant. The group of three teachers had sat down at a table 
and Corinne was looking around the faces and figures of the girls with 
nothing short of incredulity.

"I hope so. It would be better than measuring *girls* all the time!"

"Look, Suze, there's Cassie! What's she doing here? She's sitting with the 
teachers." Pansy waved across at her friend, who stared for a moment then 
laughed and waved back.

"Let's wander over and see her. I've finished my brekkers anyway. C'mon, 
Pan." They got up. "See ya later, girls," snd the two cousins headed for the 
teachers' table with an air of importance.


**********

"Who were those two, Shan?"

"Suzanne was the big one, the other was Pansy. They're cousins, and both 
natural, same as you."

"Same as me, but not for long. What are they, fourteen?"

"Eleven. In fact, Pansy's eleven, Suzanne's not eleven until April. There's 
another: Victoria's thirteen and she's Pansy's sister. That's her, over there. 
Just leaving," I whispered out of the corner of my mouth.

"She's pretty. Gorgeous figure, too." Victoria must have known Corinne and 
I were discussing her, as she flounced out, everything in magnificent 
motion. Every eye in the restaurant followed her undulating form until it 
disappeared. "Bloody hell. She knows it, as well!"

"I could watch her walking for hours," I said.

"It's all right for some, with time to spare for getting horny over little 
thirteen-year-olds," muttered Smegs, her usual cheery morning self. She 
stood up, towering above us. "I'm off. Things to do I should have done over 
the weekend."

"Pity we don't have hours to spare," sighed Corinne, starting to stretch 
luxuriously then changing her mind. "It's my big day, isn't it."

"Soon be over, and you'll be part of the scenery. Let's go, get ready for 
Moggie. You all set, Cass? Bring your bottle."

Cassandra put her almost empty gallon plastic milk bottle into her bag and 
joined us. I could feel the eyes of the school following us out of the room, 
but for once they weren't on me, preferring to study the new teacher and 
the frankly quite mountainously overdeveloped Cassie.

Corinne laughed shakily once we were safely outside. "Wow, talk about an 
ordeal. Do they always stare like that?"

"It depends what they think of you. We seem to have a couple of hundred 
breast fanciers here, so if they see a pair worth looking at, they look at 
them. Cassie says she used to it! You still think so, Cass?"

"It even got to me a bit," the girl admitted. "I'm used to being the biggest 
in the whole of Fillamore Deepleigh by now, but there, it's the boys that 
stare. Two hundred girls is different. They're all wondering what right I 
have to grow a pair like this at my age!"

"I wonder that myself sometimes, Cass. Right, you're going straight down to 
see Clit? You know the way?"

"I'll be fine, Shan. Or ought I to be calling you 'Miss'?"

"Not until you start here. Come up to Miss Thunderbolt's office after you 
get your bra, she'd love to see you. Tell Miss Labia I sent you. Maybe she'll 
have some news about getting you in here after the Summer Holidays."

"Do you think she might, Shan?"

"I hope so, and Pansy and Suze would love you to come, even if you 
weren't going to be in the same class. See you, then. And thanks for 
keeping Megan company on the train." I gave her a kiss on the cheek, 
having to approach her from behind and over the shoulder. There was no 
point in approaching her from the front because the combined size of our 
breasts kept us so far out of kissing range that we might as well have 
posted letters to each other.

We watched Cassandra plod away carefully down the slope. "Right, then, 
young Cee! Moggie's back, there's her car in the car park. Let's go and see 
the old dear."

"Not so fast, Chauntaille! I look too much like one of her schoolgirls. Time to 
put my hair up. But I'll let you watch, if you're good!"

I didn't say it in so many words, but I did want to watch, although I didn't 
really want to be good.





Chapter 24:- Story Time


"Chauntaille, and Corinne! Settled in to your new room? A bit cramped, but 
cosy, and it's private, too. You look different, somehow. Not so young as 
you did on Saturday?"

"I put my hair up. It helps me to look a little older than the girls." She 
patted her hair with both hands, the action causing lots of delicious 
movements inside her silk blouse. I swallowed, hoping Moggie wasn't 
noticing me staring.

"We got Cee settled in. In fact it was a good thing she was here. We had a 
crisis, and I'm afraid I went to pieces!" I explained the whole story of 
Smegs's disappearance to Moggie, while she listened with concern.

"What about the police? Are they going to be happy that they wasted their 
time?"

"There's a policewoman," Corinne explained. "She's coming today, just to 
clear it up. We did the right thing, she says. Megan *might* have been 
kidnapped, or injured, or anything. She might want a word with Megan, 
though, to remind her to tell somebody next time she does a runner." 

I hung my head. "It was my fault. You heard me shouting at her. You know 
what she's like. I should have thought."

"I'll speak to her, don't worry, Shan. And thank you, Corinne! You seem to 
have jumped straight in at the deep end at St Cat's. We're not like this all 
the time, luckily." Moggie changed the subject, the way she does so well, 
and so abruptly. "Now then. If we had carried out a normal interview, we 
would have taken a few of your personal details, Corinne. Perhaps this 
morning we can clear up the omissions?"

"Sure, what did you want to know...?"

"Just little things that aren't on your CV, your measurements, things like 
that ..."

"My measurements? You mean that's *normal*?"

"It is at St Cat's! We're a rather special school in some respects. And since 
we offer breast enhancement to needy girls, we now have a policy of 
recording the measurements of all our girls, and maintaining a log of all 
variations. And of course, if the girls have to provide this information, it is 
only right that the teachers should do the same."

"Oh, I see ..." Corinne began to look around the office, as if for escape. "You 
mean, you would have measured me right here in this office on Friday if 
you hadn't been ... if it had been a normal interview?"

"Yes, the central heating was on, it was quite pleasantly warm in here."

"But ...! I'd have had to undress?"

Moggie looked closely at Corinne's bust, as if noticing it for the first time. "I 
think that would be advisable. You are a very large size, and we would 
prefer to measure *you* rather than your existing brassiere." Poor Corinne 
looked strangely flustered. Not at all the capable girl who had taken 
control during the Smegs crisis. "Is something the matter? Do you have a 
problem with that?"

"N-no. Well, no, not really." Corinne was bright red. Moggie seemed to be 
waiting for something to happen.

"Miss," I interrupted. "We don't have to do it here, do we? Here and now, I 
mean?"

"I don't see why not. Won't take a minute."

I had to come to Corinne's defence. "We need to do it properly. As you say, 
Corinne is very large. You can't take chances. You would want to get the 
correct data."

"I suppose so, but what are you suggesting? Doing it privately, in her own 
room?" She made it sound like some sort of shocking perversion.

"Privately, yes. Maybe in the bra facility. They can do it most efficiently 
there, and it will be an opportunity for Miss Meadowlark to inspect the 
facility for herself, as Support and Mobility Mistress." 

"I suppose she could," Moggie said doubtfully. "It seems an awful waste of 
the seamstresses' time, though."

"Ten minutes. And they're usually stocktaking on a Monday morning 
anyway."

"Oh, all right. Just make sure you do it right, that's all."

"Oh, and Cassie ... that is, Cassandra Uddamore, from Fillamore Deepleigh? 
She's here again for yet another bigger bra..."

"Bigger again? You must ask her to see me."

"I was going to send her up. She wants to come to St Cat's, but she's 
worried about her mother not being able to afford the fees ..."

"Let me have a word with her. How big is she now?"

"Mammoth!"

"That's big. We can probably fit her in after Summer, or even after Easter. 
How old did you say she was?"

"I didn't."

"Well, how old is she?"

"She's no age at all, really, but she's big enough and bright enough."

"You'll get me thrown in jail, Chauntaille. All right, send her up, I'll ask her 
a few questions."


**********

"Whew, thanks, Shan! I thought I was going to have to strip off in her 
office!"

"So did I! Cee, is there a problem with stripping off? I mean, you're shy 
about it, but is there anything we ought to know ...?"

Corinne had gone an even deeper red. We had almost reached her room.

"Come in a minute, Shan. Can I show you something?"

I was puzzled, and a bit worried. Corinne's breasts were real, weren't they? 
Nothing else could possibly jiggle like that. If they weren't real, we had a 
problem on our hands. We'd have to enlarge her chemically, and that was 
risky.

"Sit down," she told me. Corinne remained standing, took off the little black 
bow round her neck and unbuttoned her blouse. A glimpse of creamy flesh 
appeared between the edges of the blouse, and she quickly held them 
together. "I am shy, and you will see why when I show you. It might take 
me a while to summon up the courage. Can you be patient, Shan? Please?"

I was eating myself up with curiosity. "I've got a class after lunch. Will it 
take that long?" her face clouded, and I realised it hadn't been the right 
moment for jokes. "Sorry, Cee. Take your time. Tell me about it."

She hesitated for so long I wondered if she had fallen asleep on her feet. 
"Nobody has seen me like this ... I mean, without my top ... for a couple of 
years. I've grown a lot in that time. And the last time anyone saw me was 
a most unpleasant experience. For me." Tears came to her eyes. "I can't do 
it, Shan!"

I stood up and held her shoulders. She was so tense. "Come on, sit down. 
Tell me everything."

"Everything?"

"From the beginning."

She swallowed and gulped.

"I was ten. Perfectly normal. Now I look round at girls like Suzanne and I 
think ... I dunno what I think. But I was ten, and flat. Nothing. It didn't 
matter, most of the other girls had no boobs either. And when mine came, 
they were nothing special, just little things. Little bumps. I was a skinny 
little kid, and I had these two little ... like mounds on my chest. I suppose I 
was pleased with them. I mean, they showed I was growing up. My Mum 
had a nice pair, nothing huge, just a bit bigger than average size, whatever 
that is. How big's yours, Shan?"

"My what?" I asked, startled.

She re-focused her gaze on me. "Your Mum's bust," she said, as if 
wondering how I'd thought she could have meant anything else.

"Pretty large," I told her. "She had ... the whole of Fillamore Deepleigh 
village had a bit of a mini-plague of breast growth and Uncontrollable 
Horniness. My mother grew as well. She's a nice fifty inches now."

"Nice small ones then," said Corinne. I don't know if my Mother would have 
agreed with that. Corinne continued. "My Mum's are about thirty-eight, I 
suppose. You know, firm and rounded. She's a bit bigger than me in the 
body, not tiny, like I am. I suppose all my growth's gone into these. 
Anyway ..."

She'd stopped again, and we sat side by side on the bed. I could feel the 
heat of her thigh and the weight of her breast where it rested on my upper 
leg. I gave her shoulders a little squeeze to encourage her to carry on.

"Anyway, I sort of kept pace with the other girls in my class, or maybe I 
was a little bigger up top. I guess it looked a bit that way because I was a 
skinny little thing compared to the others - big fit healthy ten year olds. 
And eleven year olds. We were getting older. I didn't go to a posh private 
school like St Cat's, just the Secondary school in the next town. It was 
because we lived on the edge of two towns, I mean our address was in one, 
but I had to go to school in the other 'cos of where we lived, and it meant 
catching the school bus. And I was growing up, and since I was skinny and 
had reasonable-sized boobs and blonde hair, some of the boys thought 'this 
is a sure thing', and tried to get off with me."

"On the bus?"

"On the bus, behind the bike sheds, anywhere. Mostly on the bus, though. 
And I didn't want to. They were the same age as me or a little bit older, 
and they were just spotty-faced kids who wanted a quick grope so they 
could tell their mates all about it. They kept score, would you believe. The 
bigger the tits, the more points they got. Shit!"

"How many points were you?" I heard my voice say.

"Five, then. The others in my class would have been one, two or three. Five 
wasn't bad for an eleven year old. See, I knew I was a five-pointer, and I 
was proud of it, in a way, but I didn't want the groping and feeling-up that 
went with it. Then I shot up to ten points, and twenty!"

"Gosh!"

"It was gosh, all right! There I was, still skinny and short, and I went from 
a sort of little B cup right up to an F, in about a month! It was crazy. There 
I was with these great big things sticking out, and suddenly the boys 
weren't bothering with accumulating points from the other girls any more. 
I was worth twenty, and that was worth any five of the others. If they 
went for me, they collected one slap in the face and twenty points: if they 
went and grabbed five other girls, they'd come up with three slaps in the 
face, maybe, and fifteen points. No contest! It was open season for Big Cee."

"Is that what they called you? What did you do?"

"I found out where they kept their balls. That worked all right!" She 
giggled at the recollection.

"Did they ... did you keep on growing?"

"For a while, it got even faster! By the time I was twelve, my Mum couldn't 
get me a ready made bra anywhere, being such a small body band size and 
such zonking great cups. So I had to have them custom made. Well, you 
know the problem, I don't need to tell you all that."

"Yeah, tell me about it!"

"I am! Anyway, after that it sort of slowed down. Mum said I was growing 
just fast enough to make sure I never wore my clothes out, I just got too 
big for them. No little sisters to hand them down to, and my old cast-off 
bras were no use to *anybody*!"

"At least I never had trouble with boys when I got my big ones," I told her. 
"I was safely tucked away in here. Lock up your daughters! And anyway, I 
was nowhere near the size of you at that age."

"Seems funny, that." Corinne glanced at my shirt-filling breasts where they 
rested on my thighs next to hers. "I mean, look at yours now, miles bigger 
than mine, yet you say they were never all that big when you were a little 
kid."

"That's right. It all happened to me in the last couple of years. Didn't you 
find any nice boys? That was the trouble with being here, you only saw 
boys at holiday time."

"I found them, but every time I saw one I fancied, he would run a mile. 
Boys have to conform, don't they. They're not allowed to have a girlfriend 
who's too fat, or too skinny, or wears thick glasses. Or who has fucking 
great tits!"

That was two things I'd just realised about Corinne. First, I'd never seen 
her without all her clothes on, and second, that was the first time I'd heard 
her swear. I guess you don't notice, we all use bad language the whole 
time. Someone comes along who doesn't swear, and the only time you 
really notice it is when they eventually do. She'd gone very quiet after her 
moment of weakness, and I only realised she was crying when she put her 
hand up to her face and a teardrop splashed on to my left tit.

"Whay-up Cee? Come on!" My arm was already behind her, on the bed. I 
placed it round her back, just below her arm, and pulled her close to me. 
Maybe I pulled too hard, or I caught her off balance or something, but she 
was suddenly almost on top of me, her head buried in my cleavage, 
somehow. It felt nice, even with her tears soaking through my blouse, her 
little body was all limp and helpless. She was even trying to climb into my 
lap, but that was a waste of effort, there's no room in there for me, never 
mind anyone else.

What I did notice was that the view of her cleavage had improved quite a 
bit, and I certainly wasn't about to do anything to change that, so I held 
her close and whispered comforting noises , bending to place my mouth 
next to her ear, and to try and sneak a glimpse of that overloaded bra.

"You're making me all wet," I said, and I did really, honestly mean it was 
her tears that were soaking me, but then I realised I was also overdue for 
a change of panties. At least, Smegs would be pleased with me for that.

"Sorry," and she raised her face from my breasts, just as I bent again to 
whisper something else to her. And when my lips made contact, it wasn't 
with her little pink ear, it was with *her* lips; hot, wet and parting under 
mine, then our tongues touched at their tips, and went exploring, the way 
tongues always do, the little devils. We didn't come up for air for several 
minutes, then she tensed and began to go rigid in my arms. I opened my 
eyes. "Shan, no!"

"Darling, Cee, it's all right!"

"It can't be all right." She sat up, caught sight of her open blouse and pulled 
it together with her hand. "I shouldn't be feeling like this, it's all wrong!"

"You can't tell yourself how you should feel, Cee!"

"But I'm not a ... I'm a girl." I let her get up and watched her walk to the 
window. She looked out, watching the girls walking to and fro outside, 
between classes. "On my first day, as well. What am I going to do, Shan?"

"Well, for a start, I'll tell you what you're *not* going to do! You are not 
going to be measured today!" I joined her at the window. "Turn round and 
face this way."

"Why?" She sounded apprehensive.

"Just turn round. How can I do these buttons up if you don't? There!" We 
both looked down at her, all neatly put away out of sight. Then that little 
black bow. I tied it and made sure it was straight. More than anything else 
in the world, I wanted to tear that blouse off her, and follow it with that 
huge bra. "Now, hold still. Close your eyes."

This time, she didn't struggle, she just melted against me until we reached 
a natural point to break the kiss, and even then we carried on holding 
tightly to each other for what seemed like simply ages. "Now, I have to 
take you round the school and introduce you to the girls. You'd better put 
your hair up again: that tousled look makes you look good enough to eat, 
but it also makes you look even younger than the students; and they are 
quite capable of having their wicked way with you. Some of them are even 
hornier than I am when they see something as wonderful as you."

Corinne blushed prettily.

"Shan. Can I finish my story later? This afternoon? I have to tell you. And I 
know Miss Thunderbolt wants to have me measured. We can do that, too. 
But not today! Is tomorrow too late? Please?"

"Tomorrow will be fine. Your hair looks lovely like that. Quite like a 
schoolteacher, really. Schoolmistressly. Are you ready, then? Let's go into 
the lions' den. I'll look after you, don't worry."

She squeezed my hand. "Thanks!"

Halfway down the stairs, I realised something. Smegs was going to kill me 
for this.

I had forgotten to change my panties. Again!





Part IX





Chapter 25:- New Love Conquers All


Corinne scanned the bundle of printouts I had given her. "These are pretty 
comprehensive, aren't they? Measurements and all, for all the girls. What 
are these letters against each name?"

"N is for natural, M is for macromastia, the C's are chemically enhanced. 
Some of the N's convert to M's, but we do have more than our fair share of 
macro girls, as the list shows you."

"It certainly does. Some of these numbers are ridiculous! Surely they're not 
right?"

"We take extra care to verify all our figures." I felt like a Government 
official. "Some of the figures may be a little out of date, they're last 
Monday's. Could be a few inches out. May I?" I took the sheets from 
Corinne and she looked at me wonderingly as I ran a finger down the list. 
"Hmm. Not bad. Look, all the chemical girls are stable at the moment, apart 
from young Abi. Let's see ... Shona's milking ... she'll be yo-yo-ing about a 
foot or so each way. And a couple of the macro girls will be the usual inch 
or so bigger. Apart from that, they're pretty representative."

I handed her the list, and she tucked the sheets into her notepad. "I'll be 
jotting down the odd note about some of the girls, if that's all right?"

"Fine! Right, we'll start with the Juniors and work our way up, although I 
don't know which are more unnerving. The First Form is in the lab this 
morning. Normally, I'd be with them, but Darren is looking after them 
today. He's our technician. He joined us when we had a girl dairy a few 
years ago. Some of the girls like him. All right if you fancy that sort of 
thing. He's ... how can I say it? Hung like a stallion."

Corinne's eyes widened as she glanced at me. "Is that natural, or 
chemically enhanced?"

"Don't ask!"

We went down the steps and round the corner to the Chemistry laboratory. 
"Here we go," I said, and we managed a little touch of the fingers as I 
opened the door.

Sometimes, when you walk into a classroom, all the girls stand up and 
chant "Good Morning, Miss GRUNT-worthy" in that cloying sing-song 
unison. One could cheerfully throttle the little bastards. The First Form 
never went in for such organised mockery of their elders and betters. They 
ignored you totally and magnificently.

In groups of three and four, they were gathered round their workbenches, 
heating flasks of luridly bubbling potions, weighing things, making notes or 
just giggling. They carried right on doing it as we went in. Darren had his 
feet up on the desk, reading a mass-circulation tabloid newspaper. A tinny 
little rhythm was leaking from his headphones. I couldn't recognise it, 
although it certainly wasn't 'God Save the Queen'.

"Good morning, girls!" The class looked up in well-rehearsed surprise. A 
few rebelliously conventional  voices wished me a good morning. "Pay 
attention, please. This is our new Support and Mobility Mistress, Miss 
Meadowlark. Please carry on with your work. Miss Meadowlark and I will 
move among you, and we may speak to some of you. The rest, please carry 
on."

Darren, meanwhile, had an expression of indignation on his face at having 
his reverie shattered. "This is Corinne Meadowlark," I said, sweetly, and 
Corinne offered a tiny hand, which Darren grasped in a moist paw. He 
looked her up and down, before deciding where his priorities lay and fixed 
his gaze firmly on Corinne's breasts before saying 'Hi!'

"Hi!" said Corinne, looking closely at Darren's hair, then taking a few paces 
to one side to study his bottom, as well as she could. She even raised his 
upper lip like a horse doctor. Finally, she bent slightly and peered at his 
groin, before standing back, apparently satisfied.

"What's she looking at?" Darren demanded, peevishly.

"I don't know, Darren. I doubt if Corinne does, either. Carry on with 
whatever you were doing. We'll go and see if the class has burnt the school 
down yet."

We started our little tour. Most of the groups were working on Sexual 
Chemistry of one sort or another. When I asked them what they were 
producing, they answered in appropriate monosyllables. 

"Tits, Love and Fuck are the three basic elements of the First Form Sexual 
Chemistry Group's work," I explained, seeing Corinne's alarmed expression. 
They are usually present in varying quantities, and the proportions are 
critical." We wandered down the centre of the lab, aware of eyes following 
us warily. "Criticality is the major problem, that and chemical 
contamination of one sort or another. Now, this group is most advanced, 
and we've let them fly at their own pace. They're on the verge of a major 
breakthrough."

We stopped next to the bench at the front of the lab. Suzanne was 
decanting a putrid-looking sludge-green treacle into an orangey-pink 
liquid topped with canary-yellow froth. Little burps of reddish steam 
jetted forth, and bubbles burst occasionally with tiny squeaks, which made 
the girls sound oddly pleased.

"Here's Pansy, Suzanne, Anastasia and Shona. You met some of these at 
breakfast. That was Shona's wheelbarrow parked outside. What are you 
girls working on? It looks unfamiliar."

"It's New Love, Miss. We've gone for a radical new formula. We're all set to 
try it out this afternoon, Miss, if we can find ... ouch! Pan!"

"It won't be ready for testing yet, Miss," said Pansy. She had jabbed her 
cousin in the ribs for some reason. These girls were up to no good, I could 
tell. I wished I knew what was going on.

Corinne consulted her data sheets. She looked up at Suzanne and Pansy 
and raised an eyebrow. Nudging me, she pointed at the letter N against 
their names with her pencil. I nodded. "Not M's?" she whispered. I shook 
my head. They were borderline cases, I supposed.

"Shona," Corinne said, smiling up at the huge First Former. "How are you 
managing with the wheelbarrow?"

"I can't turn corners, Miss," Shona complained. "I keep crashing and 
breaking things. But it *hurts*, Miss! My tit gets caught on the edge of the 
barrow, and I have to straighten up."

"Perhaps we can have some wheelbarrow driving lessons," said Corinne, 
brightly. "Are there any more barrow girls at St Cat's?"

"There's the countess," offered Anastasia. "She's got a lovely one. I want 
*mine* to be like that!"

"Yours, Anastasia?" I looked at her. She was slightly bigger, but well out of 
the wheelbarrow league.

"Mine, Miss!" She seemed pretty convinced.

"Your mixture's boiling over," Corinne pointed out. "You'd better turn the 
gas down."

"Shit, Pan!" Suzanne shouted. "Can't you watch out? You can't be trusted 
with the simplest little job, can you ...!"

The mixture gave a great fizz, the froth bubbled over the edge of the 
beaker and sprayed all over the place.

"Yow!" Corinne jumped back, rubbing her wrist. "It splashed me!" Suzanne 
darted forward with a paper towel and dabbed at it. 

"Sorry, Miss," she fretted, "I think that's got most of it. He-he! Good job it 
was only New Love, not Old Tits, Miss. You don't need any of that!"

"No, I suppose not," said Corinne, unsteadily.

"Are you all right where that stuff splashed on you?" She was rubbing it. 
We were out of the lab in the corridor, having told the girls to carry on the 
good work.

"It itches a bit. It was fairly hot, I suppose that's what's causing it."

"Let's have a look. Hey, it's gone a bit red, look." I touched it. "It feels 
warm."

"Oooh, Shan! That feels *fantastic*!"

"Sorry? I only touched it!"

"Do it again, Shan! More. God, you really turn me on when you do that. 
Fucking hell, Shan, I want you right now!"

"Cee?" It was only eleven o' clock. We had six more classes to see today. I 
glanced at the clock. No, if we went to bed now, we would be hard pressed 
to finish fucking by two, and then we'd need a shower. It would be three 
before we could ... "Sorry, Cee!" I lowered her hand reluctantly. "I'd love 
nothing more than to take you to bed and give you a good seeing-to, but 
we're too short of time, darling!"

"What?"

"I said we're running late as it is. Maybe tonight, after school ...?"

"What do you mean, Shan? Bed? It's only eleven o' clock!"

"But ..." Had I perhaps misheard her, or misunderstood? I could have 
sworn she said she wanted me right then. "Ah. We'd better go see the 
Second Form girls, then. They're doing ..." I consulted my list ."...primary 
Wanking!"


**********

And they were. We barged in at a fairly inopportune moment. Miss Rhys 
ap Llewelyn Owen, not the first person I would have chosen as a suitable 
candidate for teaching masturbation techniques to twelve-year-old girls, 
was turning out to be a right little raver.

A chorus of moaning hit us as we entered the classroom, led by Miss Rhys 
ap Llewelyn Owen in her distinctive and vibrant contralto. The girls 
themselves were perched on the edges of their desks with their skirts 
hiked up. As this was a primary wanking class, there was, in theory at 
least, no penetration and no direct clitoral stimulation. All work had to be 
conducted through the material of the underwear. This would obviously 
cramp the girls' style, but I must confess, you could have fooled me. 
Several of them were clearly in the final throes.

"Sorry to interrupt, Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, if it's a difficult time, we 
could come back...!"

"No, no problem. Morning, Miss Meadowlark, so glad all that business with 
the police is over and settled. GIRLS!" The cry rang out through the 
classroom and the girls came to a halt, as it were. "When you're ready, 
Mandy! AMANDA!! Honestly, sorry about this!" She strode down the aisle 
and seized Amanda's wrist, bringing the girl back to the present, amid a 
chorus of giggles and titters. "Now, pay attention. Miss Gruntworthy has 
something to tell you all."

I introduced Corinne, who was clearly not quite believing what was 
happening in front of her very eyes. "You have some biggies in here." I 
whispered, pointing to her list. "The young Elphinstone girl is a very large 
N, and we think Miss Ng, the Chinese girl, is probably an M." I pointed 
them out for Corinne and she gasped.

"They're so slim. I know it says what their waist sizes are on the list, but I 
never realised how small sixteen inches looked, especially with such vast 
breasts. Do they get around all right?"

"I think they have a bit of mobility awareness at times, but they're well 
compensated. How is their wanking coming along, Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn 
Owen?" 

"Considering they can't see their pussies, they do very well indeed. I have 
them both down for an A this term."

"Excellent. No cheating? No crafty mirrors?"

"Duw, no!" Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen looked horrified at the mere 
suggestion. "The next lesson is wanking in a public place, though. That 
really brings out the best in a girl."

"Yes, I can imagine it would. Well, if that's all, Cee? Thank you, girls, I'll 
leave you in the capable hands of Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, and your 
own, of course!"

Always try to leave them with a laugh, it helps the orgasm go down well. 
The moaning had broken out afresh before we even reached the door.


**********

But it was when were emerging from the door of the IT laboratory, where 
we had witnessed Third Form girls of the Junior IT Studies Group 
preparing an FAQ for newsgroup users who experience perennial difficulty 
in downloading and viewing erotic binaries, that we were accosted by 
Suzanne and Pansy, who seemed more than usually agitated.

"Miss! Oh, we've found you," Suzanne panted. "Tell her, Pan, I can't run 
with these tits!"

Pansy wasn't much fitter herself. "It's Anastasia, Miss. In the lab!"

Those are words to strike terror into any teacher's heart. "What's 
happened?"

"You know how she likes to sniff the mixture, Miss?" We had turned and 
were hurrying in the direction of the lab, with Suzanne puffing and 
bouncing along behind us. "Well, she was sniffing the New Love, and all 
this froth on top was sort of luminous green. And she'd got her face really 
close, and she sneezed. And the froth blew off the beaker and went all 
over her face."

"Oh, no!"

"She looked ever so funny, Miss, like she had a green beard. Anyway, we 
wiped it off as well as we could, then thought we'd better show her to Mr 
Darren, 'cos he was like in charge. And we took her up to his desk and 
woke him up, and he sort of screamed when he saw Anastasia, 'cos she still 
had the stuff in her hair and round her neck. Anyway, when he recovered, 
he got his hankie out and started to wipe it off."

"Did he get it all off, Pansy? Why didn't he wash her face?"

"Well, it's sort of dry froth, Miss." She screwed up her nose. "Not nice, but 
dry. Anyway, that's not the best bit. He was wiping it off, and Anastasia 
started to like ... moan, and she goes 'Oooh, Darren!' and he drops his 
hankie and he's staring at her, and old Anastasia, she moves in and snogs 
him, right there in front of the whole class!"

"She what? Anastasia and Darren?"

"She did! She was really horny, Miss. I never saw anyone as horny. She's 
got both arms round his neck and she's just about eating his face off, and I 
think Darren was starting to enjoy it, Miss, because his ..." Pansy looked 
uncertainly at Corinne as if she thought that Corinne was perhaps too 
young to know about such things. "His thingie was sticking out, Miss!" 
Pansy went scarlet when she heard her own voice saying such a dreadful 
thing.

"Sticking out? You mean ...?"

"Not out of his trousers, not out in the open air! Well, not at first, anyway. 
Anastasia took it out for him with one hand."

"Then what happened?"

"Anastasia started fucking him, Miss!"

Corinne gasped in horror and clutched my arm. I clutched hers, and felt a 
stirring of lust, most inappropriately.

"Fucking him? What happened?"

"Three of us dragged her off him, Miss!" I winced at the thought, and 
Corinne gave a shudder.

"Was any damage done, Pansy," I asked her, gravely.

"They broke a test tube, I think. And Darren's nose was bleeding ..."

"His nose?" Corinne gasped. "But how did ...?" I squeezed her arm and held 
up a warning hand.

"... it was where we pulled Anastasia off his face. She got blood on her 
knickers, and she's scared because she doesn't know which bin to put them 
in for recycling. Miss Mountains is very strict about getting our knickers in 
the right bins. 'Bloody ones in the bin marked D', she always says. But 
Anastasia says that's to do with having periods, and she says she never has 
those, Miss."

"She never will, the way she's going," muttered Corinne. 

Pansy took a deep breath.

"Where is she now?"

"Writing up her notes, Miss." Suzanne seemed to have recovered some of 
her breath, although her bosom was still heaving massively. Her bra 
creaked under the enormous stresses, and a button had come undone on 
her blouse. "As soon as we pulled her off, she sat down and starting 
writing up her notes."

"We'll have a look at her, Suzanne. You did the right thing." Both girls 
swelled dangerously with pride, and Corinne took a pace back in case of an 
explosion. "It's nearly twelve, off you go and get in the queue for lunch."

"Oooh, thank you, Miss!"

Anyone would think I had offered them a sack of gold coins.

"C'mon, Cee," I said as the cousins hurried away in search of food. "Let's see 
this victim of the New Love."

Anastasia was writing busily in her neat, backward sloping handwriting. I 
let her finish the paragraph and she put her pen down with an air of a job 
well done.

"Are you feeling all right, Anastasia?"

"Oh, hi, Miss! Yes, Miss, why shouldn't I?"

"We heard about your little accident. And about Darren."

"Mr Darren?" She was genuinely mystified.

"She seems a bit flushed, still," Corinne placed a hand on Anastasia's brow. 
The effect was sudden, and devastating. Anastasia stood up and sidled 
closer to Corinne, throwing her arms around her neck. I watched aghast as 
the child's wide open mouth applied itself to Corinne's, and there came the 
most disgraceful sound of sucking and slobbering. Despite herself, Corinne 
was hugging Anastasia closely to her, or as close as was possible, given 
Corinne's unique construction, and her tongue was just as busy as the girl's.

"Cee! Corinne, what are you doing? Let her go!" I managed to drag them 
apart, although I was sorely tempted to join in and make it a threesome. 
Anastasia and Corinne stood panting for a few seconds, then Anastasia 
picked up her books, and Corinne tucked her notepad under her arm.

"Can I go to lunch, Miss, please?"

I was so flabbergasted, I told her to run along.

"What came over you, Cee?"

"Shan? Came over me? What do you mean?"

"You and Anastasia. You were snogging. Really going at it. You were making 
me wet just watching you."

"Oh, Shan! It's going to be so much fun working with you! You've got the 
most amazing sense of humour! I know you'll be just as much fun in b ..."

She stopped herself just in time, but far too late.





Chapter 26:- Turn On


What was going on? Corinne was subdued at lunchtime, perhaps beginning 
to wonder if I had heard her embarrassing almost-statement. Or was she 
thinking about the ridiculous accusation I had made about her snogging 
Anastasia. Was she recalling the moment we had shared in her bedroom.

But what *had* caused Anastasia to virtually overpower Darren and sit on 
his face. Not for the first time, I blessed the First Form's inability to grasp 
the first principles of sexual intercourse. If a girl as determined as 
Anastasia had read the manual before attacking Darren, she would have 
been in very real danger of being split in two. Mercifully, the only damage 
was to the bewildered Darren's nose, and a broken test tube. Which I was 
going to have to explain to Moggie.

"All ready for the Fourth Form, Cee?"

"Yeah, fine," she replied, her gaze lowered to her plate. Not the right time 
to press her for information. We finished our coffee and wandered off to 
the Fourth Form classroom. "What have they got?" she asked.

"Birth Control, with Cindy Doubleday. She brings some of her kids in so 
they can be fed during the day."

"How many's she got?" Corinne's curiousity was aroused.

"I always lose count. About nine, and another due in the Spring."

"Golly! She knows her subject, doesn't she. When did she start?"

"Cindy's a twin, her sister's got nine more of her own. They're the same age 
as me, but they've cheated a bit, all of the children are twins and triplets."

"Even so ...!" We paused outside the classroom door, while Corinne studied 
her list. "Any support and mobility cases in here?" She ran her finger down 
the list, stopping next to Xanthe Elphinstone's name. "Another of the 
Elphinstone girls, I see."

I leaned closer to scan the list myself and pointed to Anna-Maria Oxberry. 
My nostrils were full of the scent of Corinne, of her hair, her light, fresh 
fragrance. Mischievously, I let my fingers trail lightly across her wrist as I 
showed her Anna-Maria's details. Corinne tensed slightly.

"Gosh! I must have missed that one somehow. Practically a wheelbarrow 
case, isn't she?" Her voice began to quaver slightly, and I rested my fingers 
lightly on her wrist. I could feel her pulse. "Shan!" she whispered. "Yes!" 
She began to rub herself against me.

"Cee, stop it! You're driving me mad, darling!"

"Come on, then. Do it to me! Kiss me all over. Suck my nipples, lick me 
down here!" She turned and threw her arms round my neck, then as I 
thrust my hips forward to press myself against her, she seemed to lose all 
interest. She bent down to pick up her book, and I watched her breast 
flatten itself around her leg. "Okay," she said brightly. "Ready when you 
are." She put her hand on the door handle.


**********

"Afternoon, Cindy."

"It's Melanie," muttered the twin coldly. I'm sure she still blamed me for 
her spraying incident at the Christmas party.

"Of course, sorry. A trick of the light. I'd like to introduce Corinne 
Meadowlark, our new member of the teaching staff, who is going to be the 
Support and Mobility Mistress. If you could spare five minutes of your 
valuable time, we'd just like the girls to meet her, so they'll know who she 
is."

Melanie shrugged. "Go ahead. I'm paid by the session anyway."

I made a mental note to speak to Moggie about Melanie's attitude. "Miss 
Meadowlark will be meeting you officially in a few days, but if any of you 
have any Support and Mobility questions ...?"

Anna-Maria put her hand up. Corinne recognised her straight away from 
her description. "Anna-Maria, isn't it?"

The big girl looked somehow startled and pleased at the same time. "Yes, 
Miss. Will you be in charge of allocating wheelbarrows, Miss?"

"I'll be making recommendations, although Miss Thunderbolt will have the 
final say. Wheelbarrows cost money, just like computers and exercise 
books."

"Good, Miss. Only I want one. I'm suffering from stress, Miss."

"I think we all are, Anna-Maria. But believe me, I have the interests of the 
bigger-breasted girls very close to my heart." Corinne made a note in her 
book and Anna-Maria sat down. "Any more questions, anyone? Thanks for 
your time, Melanie. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Thanks, I'm sure,", said Melanie, gruffly and she resumed her 
demonstration of fitting a condom to the handle of a cricket bat, although 
what useful purpose that would serve, I had no idea.


**********

The Fifth Form was down to be learning about Long Term Relationships 
from Smegs. Corinne and I slipped into the room, where Smegs was 
sprawled in her chair in a jumble of arms, legs and breasts. A vigorous 
argument was in progress, but Smegs put a finger to her lips and motioned 
us to come closer and wait.

One girl was in a crumpled heap on the floor. Another was screaming and 
yelling at a third, who was saying very little at all, just trying occasionally 
to get a word in edgeways. Watching them was a camcorder on a tripod, 
and a classroom full of enthralled girls.

From the tirade that was going on, we gathered that the taller, dark haired 
girl had come home early from the office and discovered the slender 
blonde girl in bed with the body that now lay at their feet, trying its best 
not to sneeze. The little blonde eventually managed a complete sentence.

"You didn't need to kill him," she claimed, confusingly. The corpse lost its 
battle and sneezed three times. The wronged husband tried to get back 
into his harangue, but cracked up. So did his wife and her late lover.

"Okay, girls, that was fine," called Smegs, unwinding her limbs from the 
chair with coltish grace. Corinne watched her intently as she strolled down 
to the front of the class. "Switch off the camera, Yolanda, please," Megan 
ordered without even glancing at the 'husband'. The dark-haired girl did as 
she was told, her adoring gaze never leaving Smegs's face. This was a girl 
with one serious crush on her teacher.

"Now, before we press on and watch the playback, let me introduce Miss 
Meadowlark, our new Support and Mobility Mistress." She spoke with 
quiet authority, and I realised again that it had been a long time since 
Smegs had given me a good spanking. She smiled at Corinne, and indicated 
with a sweep of her hand that the floor was hers. Follow that, Corinne, I 
thought.

Corinne followed it. "St Cat's is an unusual school, you'll all agree. The 
reason I'm here is to help you with any problems you may experience as 
you grow into well-rounded adults. Not the emotional problems, like this 
tragic family here, but the sort of physical problems many of you are 
already experiencing. We won't detain you any longer, but take a look at 
me so you'll know my face. And anything else you may recognise as well."

An appreciative buzz ran round the class. Corinne bowed slightly to them 
and stepped back. Smegs was looking at Corinne with the sort of light in 
her eye that I knew well. Smegs fancied taking Corinne to bed, I realised, 
and felt unaccountably jealous. Unaccountably? 


**********

"Well, just the Sixth Form, now. They're combining on a project at the 
moment, making a film about the problems a girl experiences when her 
breasts grow."

"They could have asked me about those. I'd still be telling them in six 
months time. Who's the star?"

"Abi, she's a Third Former. Funny thing. The intention had been for her to 
wear an artificial pair of breasts that were confiscated from a past student. 
But while were filming, Abi's breasts miraculously grew. About three times 
in quick succession!"

"Naturally?"

"Probably not. I suspect the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group, but we'll 
never be able to pin it on them without proof. The film is produced by a 
couple of big-busted sluts called Pubella and Gudrun - they're on your list 
- and the filming is being done by a couple of television professionals, 
Martin and Bob. Megan and I had a bit of a session with them a while ago. 
Bob's quite ... you know!"

"Is he really?" Corinne opened her eyes wide. "I'd better watch out, then." I 
was beginning to wonder if Corinne liked boys at all.

"I suppose, if they're shooting, there's not a lot we can do without 
interrupting things. Let's just play it by ear and I'll introduce you here and 
there. Some of the Sixth Form girls are gigantic, they all had chemical 
enhancement en masse when they were Juniors. Smegs did it to them. She 
got mad at the school for some reason. Several of them are up around the 
magic three figures."

"They're only magic if you count in inches. If we were using centimetres, 
the magic three figures would only be about a forty inch bust. That's 
practically the entire school."

What a strange girl Corinne is, sometimes.

"What was it about?"

That came after fully two minutes of silence. "Sorry, what was what 
about?"

"You said Megan got mad."

"I can't really remember. But she enlarged the Drama Group, the Hockey, 
the Swimming and the Netball teams, this was when used to have sports 
here. That was when the dairy first started up."

We slipped into the room which had been fitted out with dozens of lights. 
Girls bustled around with reflectors, sheets of polystyrene and long poles. 
They looked horribly busy and efficient, and some of them were 
worryingly overdeveloped. "Plenty of candidates for you in the Sixth," I 
whispered. "Let's watch from here. Look, that's Bob, with the headphones 
on!" But Corinne was watching the busty girls.

"Quiet please, everyone," Pubella sang out, "we're going for a take."

Abi, diminutive in two dimensions, but making up for that spectacularly in 
the third, flounced across  the set and flopped down into a seat behind a 
desk. It was obviously not going too well, and Abi was being a bit of a 
prima donna. The lights came on, the camera rolled, and Abi forgot her 
lines.

"Oh fuck it," she screamed, while everyone studied their finger nails. "Who 
wrote these crapping lines, anyway?"

"Take five, everyone!" Pubella stormed off, yelling. Gudrun burst into tears 
and buried her face in her hands. Martin and Bob wandered over to us, 
looking quite calm.

"How's it going?"

"Not too bad at all. Going well, in fact. Who's this?"

"This is Corinne Meadowlark. She's our new Support and Mobility Mistress. 
Corinne: Martin, and Bob."

"Hi, Corinne!"

"Hi!" She sounded unenthusiastic.

Martin beamed at her. "Another one of these special St Cat's girls. Where 
do you find them, Shan?"

"We didn't. Cee found us."

"Cee? That's a nice name. A bit bigger than a 'C', though." Bob grinned at 
her and she froze him with a glance. She wasn't enjoying herself.

"Not much we can do in here, Cee. You want to go back over to the room 
and we'll sort out your notes?"

"Yeah, okay."

"See you, Bob, Mar, give us a call before you finish, we'll have a drink, 
right?"

"Look forward to it, Shan. See you, Cee!"


**********

"Shan, I've been an absolute bitch, I'm sorry!"

"What's up, Cee? You haven't been very happy since lunchtime. Is it me?"

"No, it's me! I'm a miserable cow." We crossed the quad in silence and went 
up the stairs to her room. "I'll put the kettle on," she said, wearily. I heard 
her pottering about in the kitchen, while I looked out of the window. I've 
heard when people do that it that means they want to escape. Corinne 
slumped on the bed, her face in her hands.

"What's the matter. You look totally pissed off."

"I don't know. Before lunch, I seemed to get the strange feeling that I 
wanted to grab you and tear all your clothes off. Then I wanted to grab 
young Anastasia. And I even felt like raping you I the corridor outside one 
of the classrooms! It was weird. I've never felt like that before."

"Corinne, listen. You've got to believe this. You *did* grab me, you *did* 
snog Anastasia, and you *did* try to rape me outside the classroom! 
Unfortunately, you failed. But you mean you can't remember doing it?"

"No, of course not. I wanted to, sure, but ..."

"I think something's happened, something to do with New Love. Look at 
Anastasia. You put your hand on her forehead, and she came on to you like 
a ... well, like ME! Then you started eating each other's tongues. You did!" I 
insisted when she shook her head in disbelief. I sat down beside her, and 
took her hand. "Now! Hold on a minute. I'm going to try something."

The spot on her wrist was still there, a pinkish area like a birthmark. 
Gently, I held her hand, then placed my fingertips on the pink mark. She 
tensed, her shoulders stiffened. I stroked her wrist and she began to rub 
herself against me. I raised her hand and kissed the mark and she 
practically took off.

"Shan, darling! Love me, please! NOW!"

"Cee! Yes! Come to Shan. Let me help you with your blouse. Here!" The little 
black bow came off, and she began to tear at the buttons of her blouse. I 
helped her, guiding her fumbling little fingers until the blouse was off and 
lying on the floor in the corner of the room.

Then I let go of her wrist.

"Shan! What's happening? Where's my blouse? It's over there!" and she 
crossed her arms over her breasts, which I was staring at as they wobbled 
inside the straining cups of that giant black bra.

"Well, you believe me now? Look at the clock and give me your hand." The 
second hand ticked round to the minute. "See, it's exactly twenty three 
minutes past." I kissed her wrist again, giving it the full Shan treatment. 
"Cee, take your skirt off. I need to feel your lovely firm bottom ..."

"Shan, yes, help me with it. Help, it's too tight for just ickle me, poor lickle 
Cee can't manage on her own ..." Her skirt came off and I helped her to step 
out of it before letting her wrist go and watching her closely. "And it's now 
thirty seconds later," I announced, like a speaking clock.

This time, Corinne could be in no doubt. Her skirt was over in the corner 
with her blouse. Unfortunately, I was in no condition to explain rationally 
what had happened. Corinne was standing before me in her black blouse 
and silk panties. I folded her in my arms. Corinne was puzzled, confused, 
but she was almost as turned on as I was by this time. "Shan. Be gentle, 
please, Shan!"

Good grief. Just what else did she *think* I was going to be?





Chapter 27:- Interruptus


"Who's that?"

The knock came again. "Corinne, you at home?"

Smegs!

"Megan?" Corinne, turned to stone at the sound of the knock on the door, 
turned to overcooked spaghetti. She started to go to the door. "I can't 
answer it like this!" she hissed. I didn't really see why not. She was still 
comparatively decent in her bra and panties. In fact, dressed like that, she 
was making my head spin. Meanwhile, the old spleen was doing its usual 
somersaults. And I was still fully dressed, in white shirt; a rather nice dark 
grey woollen skirt with pleats which tended to disguise any tendency to 
increased fullness around my hips; my leggings and flat shoes, the faithful 
ScatBra and the wettest pair of panties you ever imagined. That's if you 
ever imagine wet panties. I can't think why anyone would want to.

I was sitting calmly on Corinne's bed, with my insides melting, watching 
the panic-stricken Corinne trying to climb into her skirt. Even inside that 
industrial-strength bra, there were so many things going on, I couldn't 
keep track. "Won't be a minute, Megan, I'm just changing!"

I could imagine Smegs outside the door, wondering why that should 
prevent Corinne letting her in. We're all women, right? She would be 
pacing up and down in that long-limbed way of hers. She'd knock again in 
a minute.

She knocked again. "Corinne! I'll be down in my room. Give me a shout."

"Okay, Megan. Won't be a minute." She was actually shaking. The half-
moon shaped curves of her breasts where they overflowed the bra cups 
were quivering independently of each other. She picked up her blouse and 
struggled to get into it. It was inside out.

"Here you are, darling." I helped her. She was about as co-ordinated as a 
rag doll, but I got her more or less tucked away inside her blouse. Never 
mind the black tie thing. Shoes! "Off you go!" I sent her on her way with a 
warm little kiss on her soft, cool cheek, which she appeared not even to 
notice, then I made my way through the tiny kitchen into my room and 
flopped on to the bed. I had an attack of the shivers. What the hell, it had 
only been Smegs at the door. What was the matter with me?

I began to wonder what Smegs wanted Corinne for. *Began* to wonder? To 
put it another way, I finally allowed myself to think about it. Was Smegs 
feeling horny? Did she fancy a heated session with Corinne before her 
evening meal. What about me? Where did Smegs think I was all this time? 
She hadn't asked. Did she even care? I knew this feeling that was coming 
on. I was wretchedly unhappy, and lonely and insecure. Not five minutes 
before, I had been gazing on a vision of incredible voluptuousness, and she 
was begging me to take her, and to be gentle while I was about it. Five 
minutes, and the world had come crashing down, the way it had a habit of 
doing.

It was cold in here. Freezing. It always was a chilly room, not like Corinne's 
cosy nest next door. Through that door, there. "Oh, FUCK you, world!" I 
wriggled beneath the duvet, where it was slightly less arctic, and tried to 
cry. Ten seconds later, I wriggled out again, ripped off my leggings then 
my type A stained knickers and threw them at the wall; then crawled back 
into my dank pit again. I watched my knickers slowly unpeel themselves 
from the dressing table mirror and flop heavily into the clutter of make-up 
pots and students' exercise books, leaving a steamy patch behind them. I 
tried crying again, but it didn't work.

All I could do was lie there, on my back, and feel empty.


**********

"Shan, are you still in?" The door handle rattled. It was the kitchen door 
handle, so someone was trying to get into my room from Corinne's. "Come 
on, Shan!"

Had I been asleep? I sat up, feeling sick, and ran my tongue 
experimentally around the inside of my mouth. Yes, I decided, I had been 
asleep, not doubt about it. "Hello? Who's that?" my voice sounded weak 
and watery, even to myself.

"Are you all right?" Corinne looked up at me anxiously as I opened the 
door a few inches and peered at her. She didn't seem to have altered much 
as a result of what could have been several hours of furious love-making 
in my bestest friend's well-used double bed. "Oh, Shan, I'm sorry, I woke 
you up! You should've said you were asleep." Yes, I suppose I should, 
really. Thoughtless of me.

"Coming for a bite to eat? I'm starving." I retreated into my room and she 
followed me in, looking round. She noticed the rumpled bed. "You were 
asleep, weren't you. It's half past five. Megan kept me nearly half an hour 
with those bloody forms."

"Which forms?" I was prowling round, looking for a pair of shoes or 
something.

"Are these what you're looking for?" Corinne picked up my knickers, 
realising her mistake instantly. She held them between thumb and finger, 
looking embarrassed.

"No, I'll get a clean pair."

"What shall I do with these?"

"It's all right, leave them there."

"I can't leave them on these books, they're students' work. There's a big 
wet splotch on the top one already." She searched for somewhere suitable 
and finally dropped them on the bare floor by the doorway. "What 
happened, did you have an unfortunate accident in them?"

"You could say that, I suppose." Was she being deliberately insensitive, or 
just plain cruel? I found another pair and wriggled them up my thighs. 
Corinne watched in a detached manner as I hoisted my skirt and settled 
the crotch of the panties into some kind of position where they weren't 
being entirely gobbled up. She seemed to be about to say something, but 
changed her mind.

"Which forms?" I asked again, absently sniffing the crotch of my leggings. 
They smelled surprisingly pure, so I decided to let them have a few more 
hours wear.

"What? Oh, something to do with my contract. Some forms I should have 
filled in at the interview. Miss Thunderbolt gave them to Megan for me to 
sign. In about sixteen places, in triplicate. I've got galloping RSI now." She 
flexed her fingers and rubbed her wrist with a strange expression on her 
face. Then she shook her head. "All ready, then? 

"Just about. But Corinne? What were we doing when Smegs knocked on the 
door?"

"I was changing. I didn't answer the door because my zipper stuck."

"That's what you told Smegs." It was a statement, not a question.

"'Course! That's what happened, isn't it?"

"You were changing. But you're wearing the same clothes as you were 
earlier."

"The same skirt. But I changed my panties." She blushed a little. "That's 
what I meant when I said I was changing."

"You had to take your skirt off to change your panties?"

"What is this, the Spanish Inquisition? What's the matter, Shan?" Corinne 
looked troubled, her eyes searching mine. Lovely, lovely blue eyes.

"Sorry!" I touched her shoulder, close to the flesh of her neck. I could feel 
the muscles, tense and almost rippling. "I'm all ready, let's go."


**********

It was starting to snow a bit when we came out of the restaurant. What the 
weather men call a wintry shower.

"I could use a cup of tea after that," said Corinne. "A memorable 
experience, those fishcakes."

We passed the entrance to the main classsroom block. There was a light on 
in the lab.

"I've just got to collect something from the lab. Do you want to go on up to 
the room? Shove the kettle on. I'll be up in a couple of minutes. No sugar in 
mine!"

The First Form Sexual Chemistry Group was working overtime. They 
sometimes did, when there was an experiment that needed longer than the 
usual time. One group was working, under the nervous supervision of the 
disco lad. It was the New Love Group.

"Hi, Suzanne, how's it going?"

"Just finished, Miss. Then we'll be letting it cool overnight and bottling it 
tomorrow." The girls were gathering up their belongings and stuffing their 
bags with papers. They shuffled their feet, anxious to get away.

"Excellent. Well done! Off you go, and enjoy your evening."

The girls brightened up instantly, realising that I wasn't going to keep 
them hanging around. "Thanks, Miss! See you tomorrow."

"Night, Pan, Suze. Night, Anastasia. Careful with your barrow, Shona, it's 
started to snow out there." I watched them bouncing and wobbling out of 
the door. Anastasia held the door for Shona, and I heard them giggling as 
they helped Shona load her barrow.

There was a flask, sealed with a stopper, and a beaker covered with plastic 
cling film. A luminous green froth covered the inch or so of liquid inside. 
Quickly, I stripped off the film, found one of those flat plastic bags with a 
sort of zipper seal at the top, and scraped about a teaspoonful of the froth 
into the bag. I replace the cling film on the beaker, dropped the plastic bag 
in my skirt pocket, and took a quick look around. All clean and tidy. I 
shouted goodnight to the disco lad, who seemed relieved to be able to get 
away to whatever he did with himself in the evenings.

Now for that cup of tea.


**********

The bedside lamp was on, and a portable radio was playing.

"Pour your own cup, Shan, I didn't know how long you were going to be." I 
came back into the bedroom, where Corinne was swaying slightly, 
presumably to the music.

"I love this one," she said, singing a few words. "Do you like this band? A 
bit teeny-ish, but that lead singer! Yow!"

"Oh, yes. Very nice. As far as I was aware, it wasn't God Save the Queen. 
Corinne attempted a more elaborate step but admitted defeat and had to 
retire, steadying her rebounding breasts with both hands. She picked up 
her mug and drained it in one gulp.

"Can I tell you the rest of my life story? I'd only reached the school bus, 
hadn't I?"

"It's as good a time as any." Perhaps it would give me the opportunity I 
needed. Carefully, I eased the plastic bag from my pocket. The bag was 
quite thick plastic, and flat. The luminous green froth had squeezed up to 
one end, but it was still luminous green, and still frothy. I made myself 
comfortable on the bed, and she joined me in the story-telling position, on 
my left, close enough to feel the warmth of her and smell that fragrance. 
No doubt she could smell mine, which was possibly a little more ... well ... 
sort of animal,really.

"Where was I?"

"School bus. Twenty points a feel."

She wriggled her bottom, getting comfortable. "Touch me, Shan!"

"What? Where?" 

"Just anywhere. Put your arm around me. Mmm, that's nice." Her fingers 
touched my hand softly and I felt her hair brushing against the side of my 
face. "Right, school bus. Yeah! Well, there were two boys who were always 
together, who didn't join in trying to grab me. One was quiet, but really 
dishy, so my Mum always reckoned. I fancied him. The other one was a 
right smarmy dick. The other girls all fancied him, but he was so yuck! 
Smooth, all the chat, the lot. But as my favourite one wasn't interested, I 
had to sort of play along with smarmy 'cos that was the only way to get to 
talk to the other one. Not that he ever said much, but ..."

Corinne was getting nicely into her story. Holding her a little more tightly 
round her shoulders, I gave her a reassuring squeeze. With my right hand, 
I found the plastic bag on the bed, opened the top and slipped a finger 
inside. A quick glance confirmed it was glistening with green foam.

"... and he said did I want to go to the pictures with him, and I said, 'what, 
just the two of us?' and he asked if my granny wanted to come as well, so I 
supposed he meant yes, just the two of us. So anyway, I said I would, 'cos I 
might get the chance to ask him about James, the one I really fancied ..."

Keep going, Corinne! She had crossed one leg over the other, and there was 
a glimpse of the back of her knee, the left one. I rubbed my own knee, and 
as she came to one of the highlights of the story, I sneaked my finger 
across and wiped the froth on the soft skin between the tendons.

"Ow!" She stopped her narrative. I gave the froth a rub, making it 
disappear into the skin. "What are you doing?"

"Sorry, I just saw it and I wanted to touch it."

"You'd better not touch me there, of all places. I go *wild* if anyone 
touches the back of my knees!"

"What, you mean ... here?"

"Eeeek!" She jumped as if I had poked her with an electric cattle prod. 
"Wow, Shan!" Her hand settled on my thigh and gripped. "I told you. That's 
my most sensitive spot, apart from my boobs. Touch me there again and 
I'll never get this story told."

Shit! What a waste. I'd have to find another bit of bare skin to try it out. 
"Sorry, go on. You were in the back row."

"Oh, you *were* listening. Anyway, as soon as we'd sat down, his arm was 
round the back of my seat, and he grabbed my shoulder and squeezed me 
so I was right over on top of him, then his other arm came round my front. 
Like this, he was." She demonstrated the position, but didn't quite touch 
my breasts. Then his other hand, the one that was ..."

"That's three hands, Cee!"

"No, listen. The one round my shoulder, that one slid down and started 
stroking the outside of my breast." Her voice had gone a bit funny.

"Show me how." She did, touching me briefly. Too briefly.

"You mean, a bit like this?"

"A bit," she said, uncomfortably.

"And meanwhile, his other hand was ... here?"

"Yes. Well, further over."

"Here?"

"Ye-es...!"

"Or here!"

"Shan, please. Careful."

"You're all tense, Cee. Here." I stroked her hair again, feeling her relaxing 
slowly. Her head rested on my shoulder.

"That feels so nice, Shan. All sort of secure and ... comfy!" She snuggled up 
closer. Our breasts were tending to get in the way of each other. And with 
one finger still smeared with the magic green froth, I couldn't really get to 
grips with Corinne. 

"Let's try another position. You sit on the floor between my feet, carry on 
with the story, and I'll rub your neck. It helps!" She grunted and struggled 
into a sitting position, leaning back against me until she realised that she 
had rested her head on my breasts. She sat forward again. I checked that I 
still had a finger-full of froth. Everything was ready. She'd reached the 
point where she stormed out of the cinema and tried to catch the bus 
home, when I blew softly in her ear.

"Oooh, Shan!" The voice was getting weaker, more unsteady, and her head 
tilted over to one side. My fingers found the tense muscles at the side of 
her neck, and I rubbed gently there.

"There, is that getting better?"

"Shan! Darling!" The stuff worked! It was working. Three cheers for the 
First Form Sexual Chemistry Group! "Undress me, now! Make me naked!" 
Gosh! An extra strong batch, or what?

I carried on rubbing gently, and Corinne arched herself back against me, 
rubbing her body against my knees. "Please," she whispered urgently. Rub, 
rub, stroke, stroke. "Please!" she squealed, and crawled away across the 
floor. Then swivelling round, she undid all the buttons on her blouse with a 
single tug. Here we were again. Like an old friend, the black bra filled my 
vision. Leaning forward, I stroked her wrist and she scooted over to me on 
her bottom, wobbling extravagantly. Time for another rub on the neck, and 
she practically climbed into my lap. Not easy with that lot between us, but 
Corinne was pretty determined. It was time to stand up.

Her skirt came off much more easily this time, and her blouse slipped 
down her arms. I took her limply unresisting body in my arms and held 
her gently, as if she was about to break. Our lips met, and she didn't hold 
back. Nor, for that matter, did I.

"I'm going to have to get undressed, Cee!"

Obliging girl, she lent a hand. In no time, we were similarly dressed, or 
undressed, in our bras and pants.





Part X





Chapter28:- A Bit Of A Heavy Session


I looked at hers, and she looked at mine. Corinne swallowed noisily. This 
was the moment of truth. I reached behind me and released the band of 
my ScatBra.

"Gosh, is that velcro?" she asked in a faint voice. "Is it strong enough?"

"It's special heavy duty velcro. And yes, it's strong enough!" One at a time, 
the shoulder straps slid down my upper arms. Although I was keeping my 
arms tight against my sides, not letting the bra fall, the vast weight of my 
tits was dragging it down. There was nothing I could do to stop it. At last, I 
let go of the bra and slipped my right arm beneath my breasts as they 
began to cascade mightily downwards. I managed to slow their fall slightly, 
and when I dropped the bra to the floor, they fell the last nine inches or 
so, swaying massively and bouncing against my thighs.

"Oh, Shan. You're magnificent! I've never seen anything like them. Corinne 
took a step closer and rested her hand against the side of my breast. The 
tiny fingers pressed ever so slightly inwards and her mouth opened. 
"They're so soft, yet so firm, somehow! And SO dangly!"

"Your turn, Cee!"

"I suppose so."

"No, wait. Let me take your panties off. I got down on the floor in front of 
her, my breasts flopping to the carpet in front of me. From here, her face 
was invisible, but I heard her moan softly as I ran both hands round 
behind her and cupped her buttocks through the cool silk. I squeezed 
gently and her breath hissed through her teeth.

"Take them off, Shan!"

I hooked my thumbs inside the elastic and began to ease them down 
across the swell of her bottom. She parted her feet a little, and bent one 
knee in a delightfully innocent way to release the crotch of her knickers 
where they were trapped between her legs. They made the faintest of 
whispering sounds as they slid down her shapely legs. Shapely, yet strong. 
They had been carrying a huge load for a number of years. She stepped 
out of them and my hands ran back up her legs, across the ankles, the 
calves, the back of her knees!

"Chauntaille!" 

"Corinne!"

It was very much a time for full names. It was a wonder we hadn't 
addressed each other as Chauntaille Gruntworthy and Corinne 
Meadowlark! She was quivering like a great big vibrator as I rested my 
fingers in the indented backs of her knees. Then I let one hand roam up 
the back of her thigh, and down again while the other one went for a walk 
as well. Higher, higher, until she parted her thighs enough to let one of my 
hands between her thighs. They felt hot and damp. Damp?

There! I let my eyes feast on her plump pussy for the first time. From 
down here I had a perfect view. It was sparsely furred with silky light 
brown fur. The merest hint of an opening in her lips now that her legs 
were lightly apart. And trickling down the cleft of those lips, a single 
pearl-like drop of purest nectar.

I intercepted it with my tongue before it could reach freedom and course 
down her inner thigh like its predecessor. It was almost sweet. How 
different from Smegs Corinne was! Smegs's pubic hair was a dirty blonde 
colour, and coarse by comparison. Smegs's pussy-lips were rude and 
ravaged-looking. And Smegs was, to put it delicately, more reminiscent of 
a fish-market round about closing time. Corinne was like a fresh seaside 
morning, an ocean breeze.

Another drip trickled on to my tongue. And another, and Corinne began to 
moan again as I licked my way up and down her slit, until there was no 
way of knowing if it was my tongue making her so wet, or her own juices. 
I felt her hands pressing my face closer to her, and my nose made contact 
with the very top of her lovely opening, and she sighed sharply and began 
to buck her hips. I needed to cup her buttocks and grip her between my 
hands and my face until she settled down.

"Cee, darling!" I began to stand up. It is hard enough for me to do at the 
best of times. Now, my knees were turned to water by the closeness of this 
wonderful girl. "Take my pants off," I ordered, or pleaded, I'm not sure 
which it was. "Wait ..." I squeaked; she was fumbling between my breasts 
for the elastic top of my panties. "Wait, I'll have to turn round, you'll never 
find them behind my breasts!"

From behind, her capable fingers quickly peeled them down. They were so 
wet, they rolled themselves off rather than sliding down in a well-behaved 
Corinne-like manner, and I felt the crisp lace of her bra rub against my 
bottom as she got down on the floor behind me.

"Oh, Shan! What a sight!"

Most people said something like that on first acquaintance with my vagina 
and its immediate surroundings. From Corinne's lips, it sounded like a 
love-poem. I turned round and gave her the front view, and felt my 
breasts hauled apart and her fingers exploring me busily. Well, there's 
such a lot to see down there: so many places to visit. She was doing her 
best to visit them all! I rested my hands on her shoulders, between her 
neck and the indentations where her bra straps dug into her flesh. Even as 
wide as the straps were, they were still trying to slice into her like cheese 
cutters. I found her brand new erogenous zone and rubbed gently. A 
gratifying response came from down below, and my breasts were being 
tossed and tumbled as Corinne's hands worked even more furiously. I felt 
several fingers now inside.

She had enough to occupy her attention for a while, so I reached down her 
back and explored her bra strap. It was hugely wide, and her conservative 
designer hadn't yet discovered the joys of velcro. One by one, I wrestled 
the hooks undone, and although I felt her pause for a moment, and a 
tension came into her body, she resumed her attentions when I softly 
stroked her neck again. The last hook was free, and the bra, under 
insurmountable stress, pulled away from her body, allowing her breasts to 
slip out of the undersides of the cups and plunge down. The bra hung 
uselessly by its shoulder straps.

Corinne resisted as I grasped her beneath the armpits and pulled her to 
her feet. "No! I want to play down here," she squeaked like a petulant 
child, but I carried on lifting her up until she was upright and looking 
pleadingly into up my eyes. "Please, Shannie! Pleeeease!"

I let go of her and she instantly tried to get between my breasts again, but 
I took half a pace back and she had to straighten up. This time, she stood a 
couple of feet in front of me, and a deep blush spread over her face as I 
took in the full details of her magnificent body.

Under their vast weight, her breasts plunged well past her navel, although 
not quite far enough down to reach her pubic hair. The nipples, 
considerably larger than mine, were erect, and were aiming themselves at 
a point on the floor perhaps six feet in front of her. From what I could see 
of her areolae, they, too were bigger than mine, possibly more than four or 
five inches, and irregularly shaped, not puffy like my halved-apples.

Gradually, she allowed her eyes to rest on mine, although she still looked ... 
ashamed, was it?

"You have the most beautiful body I ever saw," I told her, and I meant it. 
"Your breasts ..."

"No!" She shook her head. "No, they're not!"

"... your breasts are magnificent!"

"They're too big," she insisted. "Everyone says so!"

"I say they're beautiful. The finest breasts in the whole of St Cat's! And 
trust me, Cee ..."

"No, I ..."

"Cee, we really *know* about breasts here!"

Her eyes fell for a moment, and she gave an involuntary shudder. 
"Shannie!"

"Yes, darling!" I hoped I knew what was coming.

"Fuck me, please!"

It's always pleasant to be proved right!


**********

"Shannie?"

"Yes, Cee?"

She was kneeling astride my stomach. I could feel her wetness on my 
tummy. My breasts were piled up on either side of my hips: hers were 
dangling down on my chest in my widely spread cleavage. Her hair 
brushed against my body. So did her amazing nipples. I captured one and 
suckled on it, and she helped feed it into my mouth with both hands.

"Shannie!" Her voice rose to a squeak as I sucked harder on her, feeling the 
nipple filling my mouth.

"Nobody called me Shannie before."

"I will, from now on, because you're so special to me."

"Oh, Cee!" My mind went blank as what could well have been another 
orgasm began to build in my overheated loins. Cee rubbed her bottom 
slowly back and forth, up and down against me. She farted and I felt it 
against my belly.

"Oops!" Her face went bright red and a hand went to cover her mouth. 
"Sorry! Oh, my God!"

"You terrible girl, doing that when I can't escape. Come here, kiss me 
again!" Her breasts squashed as she bent forward and we giggled into each 
other's mouths when our lips met, our tongues leading the way. There was 
even a minor clash of teeth. "You're really not very good at this sort of 
thing, are you!"

"Teach me, Miss!" She sat back, her hair falling across her face. She 
brushed it away, and pouted at me, then reached down and clutched at one 
of my breasts.

"What are you trying to do with that?" I asked her.

"I wanna suck yours, Shannie!" She sounded like a great big baby.

"You'll never be able to pick it up on your own," I said as she struggled 
with it. With her own huge floppers in the way, she could only use one 
hand. She slipped it underneath and grunted as she tried to lift it. It kept 
rolling off. "Ouch, Cee!"

It took both my hands and one of hers to get it up to her mouth. "Little 
teensy-weensy nipples, Shannie! Would-ums like gweat *big* nipples like 
Cee? Cee make dem gwow!" She sucked furiously, and perhaps even 
succeeded a bit.

I even did the same for her. Time for a change of position, I thought, Cee 
was too much in control here! It took several minutes of hip-bucking and 
thrusting before the giggling girl was unseated, and lay beside me on the 
bed.

"What Shannie gonna do to Cee?" She put a thumb in her mouth. Having 
such vast breasts makes me a bit slow-moving in bedroom situations, but 
Cee was pretty big, too, as well as much slimmer, so her breasts were 
surprisingly close to mine in bulk and awkwardness. So, like mating 
hippopotami, we changed position: her underneath, with me tasting the 
delights of her seafood special; while I lowered my meaty rump over her 
face.

"What Shannie doing?"

"Shannie gonna fart," I threatened, and heard a nervous laugh from 
somewhere between my thighs. Then there was an inexperienced but 
rapidly-learning tongue lapping at me, and I abandoned the baby talk and 
began to howl until the windows shook!


**********

"Shannie!" It was much later.

Yes, Cee?"

Her voice was serious. "You know I've got to be measured tomorrow? 
Couldn't *you* do it, tonight?"

That sounded like a simply splendid idea. We were lying side by side, 
recovering, touching each other here and there, and occasionally 
shuddering with delight.

"Why not? We don't need anyone else, just us."

"Let's do it now then!"

"Do what, Cee?"

She punched me playfully. "Measure Cee first. We'll do it later!" And her 
sweet mouth settled on mine again.

"C'mon, then!" I half-rolled off the bed and dragged her up.

"Hang on," she said, "there's something stuck to your bum!"

"What ...?"

"Some sort of plastic bag. Oh, yuck, it's got green stuff in it ..."

"Yeeuch, get it off!" I swatted at it and did a little baby-elephant dance 
step as the bag fell to the floor. I trod on it. It stuck to the bottom of my 
foot. "Oh, shit! It's getting everywhere!" I sat down on the bed again, my 
bottom landing on Cee as she failed to get out of the way.

"What is this stuff?" She wiped some of the green froth off her thigh and 
sniffed at it. A little luminous dab appeared on the tip of her nose. 
Meanwhile, I had peeled the bag off the sole of my foot and thrown it 
away. That was when I found some froth on my fingers. I wiped it off on 
the first place that came to hand, my pubic hair.

"It's New Love!"

Corinne sat bolt upright. You mean ... and I got it on my thigh?" She rubbed 
at it.

"And your nose, dear!"

"And your fat bottom! And your foot!"

"I wonder how long it takes for the effects to wear off?"

"We're going to have to wait and find out, I suppose. Meanwhile ..."

"Yes, meanwhile," she said with a little laugh, "we're going to have to be 
very careful where we touch each other, aren't we!"


**********

"Ouch!" Corinne wriggled. "That tape's bloody cold!" I had extended it 
round her hips, and my fingers were gently brushing her pubic hair. My 
other hand was lodged gently in the cleft of her bottom, with one finger 
extended slightly downwards. I wiggled it and she allowed a soft, wet kiss 
to alight on my cheek like a butterfly. "What is it then?" she demanded 
impatiently.

"Shan't tell you! These measurements are for Moggie's eyes only!"

"Shannie! You must tell me!"

The tape slipped up around her waist. She jerked her stomach in when my 
fingers toyed with the soft skin around her narrowest part. "Bloody hell!" I 
exclaimed. "That can't be right!"

"What can't be right?"

I took the measurement again. "Shit, it wasn't right! It's even smaller!"

"Come on, Shan. You must tell me." She grabbed the tape. "You're not doing 
my bust until you tell me!"

"Shan't!"

"All right. I'll measure myself." She started to stretch the tape round her 
bottom.

"It's all right, I'll tell you!"

She laughed, and stopped trying to see what she was doing down there.

"Thirty-one!"

"Golly! Is that right?" She grinned helplessly. "I've lost weight!"

"And your waist is nineteen. I made it twenty at first."

"It *used* to be twenty-two. Gosh, Shan!"

I reached for the tape again. "Let's do your bust now."

"Shan't!"

"Cee!" I whined.

"Nope!"

"Oh, come *on*, Corinne!" 

"No, I want to do *your* fat bottom first."

"Cee," I pleaded, but she hung on to the tape. So I let her. My waist was up 
to nearly twenty-nine, my hips nearly thirty-nine! This was getting 
beyond a joke!

"I told you, fat bum," but she could tell I was shocked and her heart wasn't 
in it. "You can do my bust now," she said quietly, and put the tape measure 
in my hand. "I don't want to spoil your fun or anything, but it's seventy-
four!"

"How do you normally *do* yours," I asked her.

"With a table." 

"What, the table-top method, same as us?"

"I rest them on the table and get someone to pass a string round them, all 
the way round. Then we measure the string with a ruler."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why use string and a ruler?"

"Because we only have a six-foot tape, dummy!"

"Not a problem at St Cat's. Ours go up to eighteen feet on demand. This 
humble ten-footer will do for you, shrimp!" She poked her pink tongue out 
at me. It stuck out a long way, so I took time out and sucked it. "Right, 
then, on the desk top!"

Corinne moved slowly to the desk and bent her knees. "Ouch! It's a long 
way down!"

Her breasts rested on top of the desk like two great oval basketballs. 
Bigger than basketballs. They stuck out more than a foot in front of her 
chest.

"Hurry up, Shannie, my knees are killing me! Oooooargh!" She lowered her 
head and rested it on the tops of her boobies. They were some way bigger 
than her head.

"That's all right, plenty of time. Hold that end against your right one and 
pass the tape round to me." She handed me the end, with a pained 
expression on her face.

"Please, Shan!"

"Won't keep you a moment, modom." Quick! Round the back. I scuttled 
round behind her and applied the tape to the side of her breast until it met 
up with its starting point.

"Shan, my knees are going!" Corinne's thighs were trembling. The poor girl 
was nearly collapsing.

"Hang on!" I left the end of the tape in her right hand and went behind her. 
"There, I've got you, let me support you ..." My hands were beneath her 
shapely little bottom, and I felt the weight settle into them. My fingers 
moved around, exploring her tight cleft. She shot almost upright with a 
squeal and her breasts went into convulsions on the top of the desk.

"Shan! You bastard!"

I took pity on her. "Stand up, my pet." She did, trembling weakly, then 
turned round into my arms, and our breasts became enmeshed somewhere 
way down South.

"You rotten pig," she murmured into my mouth. "You did that on purpose. 
You took advantage of me!"

"I know. But Cee?"

"Yessss! Oo!" One of my fingers had just encountered an orifice and slipped 
inside.

"You didn't let go of the tape, did you? We don't want to have to do it all 
over again, do we?"

Actually, she had let go of the tape, and we did have to do it all over again, 
but I was a lot quicker the second time.

"There you are. Christ, it's seventy-six!"

"Still growing," she sighed.

"You're just about to grow some more, Cee!"

"Gerroff! These things are quite big enough and heavy enough to carry 
around all day, thank you very much. I'm not as beefy as you."

"You won't get any bigger, or heavier. But you will gain a few inches, I can 
guarantee! Let me show you the St Cat's table top method! Ta-da!"

"We just did ..."

"No we didn't. Get on the desk and lie down with your breasts hanging 
over the edge." I had to help her scramble on top of the desk, and held her 
huge breasts steady as she let them dangle over the precipice.

"Gently, Shan! Don't drop them. Ooooh, wheee, ouch, oh Mummy!"

"There, that's as far as they go. They didn't reach the floor."

"It hurts, Shan. They're so heavy stretched out and dangling like this."

"It's all right, Cee. Just relax. Think nice things for a few minutes while 
they stretch on their own."

She looked so vulnerable lying there on her stomach. It was a major 
decision which bit of her to eat first. I decided to kiss her between the legs. 
She seemed to enjoy it rather, and from all the available evidence, 
performed a most productive orgasm.

Her breathing returned to something like normal. "Now, then," I said, "they 
ought to be nicely done by now. Let's see how big you are by the official 
industry standard, shall we?"





Chapter 29:- The Feel-Good Factor


"Gosh, you're up early!" Smegs looked at me grumpily for daring to speak 
to her at this time in the morning.

"I couldn't sleep!" She finished washing her hands and made a savage 
attack on the towel dispenser. "Some animal was keeping me awake."

"Animal ...?" I felt myself going red. Oh, shit!

"Two animals, actually. Fighting or fucking. How was she, Shan? Better than 
me?"

"Smegs, please ..."

"Oh, it's all right. There's no need. You were obviously enjoying yourselves, 
both of you!" She tried for a smile, but it was still only seven thirty in the 
morning and it came out as a lop-sided snarl. "Shannie!"

"I'm sorry, Megan. We ... I was measuring her for Moggie's records, and ... 
well, we ... we did make love, actually."

"Before or after? Or both?" She saw my face. "Both! It's a nice way for me 
to find out, being kept awake by the noise." She couldn't keep the quaver 
out of her voice, and it only made me feel worse for her.

"Smegs, don't ..."

But that had been her big exit line. I heard her footsteps diminish as she 
went along the corridor to her room. Halfway there, she broke into a 
canter, and I was sure I heard a sound like a sob.

I felt numb as I joined Corinne in her room. She had just loaded herself 
into her bra and was inspecting the effect in the mirror. "Do you think I 
could get my new ScatBra in this colour, or ..." She broke off, turning round 
and seeing my face. "What's the matter, Shan?" Her fingers were soft 
against my cheek.

"I just saw Smegs ..."

"Ah. So, she heard us last night?" I nodded, close to tears. "We weren't 
exactly being quiet, were we? I should have warned you, I make a bit of 
noise as a rule when I come. But it's not the sort of thing you can slip into 
polite conversation over lunch ..." That fell flat. No time for lightweight 
jokes. "Come here, Shannie."

If she hadn't used our pet name, I might just have been all right, but when 
she called me that, I just dissolved. Corinne held me until I stopped crying, 
then dabbed my eyes with a tissue, and kissed them: left, right, and once 
on the mouth. I tasted the salt on her tongue.

"Come on. She's upset, right?" I nodded again. It was better than trying to 
talk. "Well, it's hardly surprising. She's had you all to herself." 

"Apart from Villiers, and Orson, and Jeremy, and Bob."

"Not the same, is it!" She grinned. "You told her?"

"She knew anyway. She heard you calling me Shannie. Nobody calls me 
that. But what if she runs away again? She did on Friday, and we hadn't 
even done anything then. Now ...!"

"What's she like? Megan? In bed, I mean!"

"Big and strong. She likes to be in charge. Her tongue's a bit longer than 
yours. She's not as wet as you, down there." Corinne blushed and looked 
uncomfortable. She'd been embarrassed about that last night.

"She's better than me, then."

"No! I mean, I didn't say that. She's ... oh, I don't know. Cee? Is it possible 
to love more than one person at the same time?"

"*You* are asking ME? Shan, you love everybody! You've got enough love 
to spare for the whole world. I'm just lucky enough to have been one of 
them. Especially since I know nothing about sex."

She stood there, dejected, her shoulders drooping. That might just have 
been the weight of her breasts. I rested my hand on the side of her neck, 
and she gave a moan. Shit! The wrong moment to touch Corinne on one of 
her new erogenous zones.

"You'd better get dressed, darling," I said. "Breakfast. Build your strength 
up after last night. I love you, Cee!" That wasn't the right thing to say, 
either. Hadn't she just told me I loved the whole world?

"I love you too, Shannie," she said, very quietly. "What's happening to me?" 
When I didn't answer, she sighed heavily like a dog trying to get attention, 
and delved into her wardrobe for a shirt. It was one of her made-to-
measure silk ones, and it made my loins swim when she fastened the pearl 
buttons. Pearl buttons. They reminded me of that first tiny drop of juice I 
had lapped from her perfect pussy, and I almost crushed her against me.

"Don't leave me, Cee! I want you to stay for ever."

Talk about two confused girls. Three, if you include Smegs.


**********

"Should we make it stronger, Pan?"

"We don't even know it works at all yet," said Suzanne. "Anastasia might 
have been nothing to do with getting froth all over her face."

"What are you talking about," Anastasia demanded. "What about the 
froth?"

"Oh, shut up, you! We keep telling you, you snogged Darren and you'd have 
fucked him, too, if we hadn't dragged you off him. And you can't 
remember a thing about it. It was the froth you blew off the New Love."

"Bollocks", said Anastasia rudely. If a teacher had been present, perhaps 
Miss Gruntworthy, she would have spoken sternly to Anastasia about her 
un-St Cat's-like language.

"Is little Anastasia upset, then?" Suzanne taunted her. She gently stroked 
Anastasia's cheek with the back of her hand. The effect was surprising.

"Suze, darling", whined Anastasia. With surprising strength and 
determination, she seized Suzanne round the back of the neck and crushed 
her mouth with hers. "Darling, darling, darling!" she continued not too 
creatively, then took a substantial handful of Suzanne's copious bosom in 
her spare hand. She began to mould and knead the swollen flesh with 
something approaching frenzy.

"Gerroff, yer slag!" Suzanne backed away, wiping her slobber-coated mouth 
with the back of her hand. "You've squashed me tit! What are you playing 
at?"

"What do you mean?" Anastasia asked, puzzled.

"We saw you, Staze," Pansy confirmed. Anastasia looked at Shona.

"That's right, we did. You snogged Suze and grabbed her tit. It looked ever 
so sexy, Staze!"

Anastasia bit her lip. "It felt all warm and nice, then I felt nothing after 
that. Suze. Did I hurt your tit?"

"Yes," pouted Suzanne.

"I'm sorry." Anastasia came closer. Suzanne backed off some more.

"You keep away. That's close enough!"

Pansy pointed out the obvious. "That froth has made Anastasia erotic," she 
said. "Her head is an erroneous zone. If we put some of this froth on 
somebody, it will make them fuck people as soon as they touch the part 
where we put it. All anyone has to do is to touch Staze's head, and she eats 
you alive. The only trouble is, she can't remember afterwards ..."

"Yeah, that's rotten," said Anastasia. "You tell me I do all these things, but I 
remember none of the pleasure of it."

"Maybe we can do something about the memory thing." Suzanne consulted 
the formula. "How about a bit more delay in it. Stronger, with more delay."

"Who are you going to test it on?" said Anastasia, thrilled at the prospect of 
seeing New Love in action for herself. 

"You, of course! We know your head works. So we just keep changing the 
formula and putting it on your head until you remember what you did. 
Simple!"

"Simple? What about my head, getting more and more erroneous?"

"You'll be all right, Staze! Place yourself in our hands."


**********

"Who've you got first, then?"

Corinne bit her lip. "Third Form. Miss Beautiful Victoria and that lot. But 
I'm going to set them all the same project, but get them to look at it from a 
different perspective. 'Mobility For The Gigantic-breasted Woman', it's 
called. Each form will have a different aspect to address. The Thirds are 
looking into motor vehicles."

"Like seat belts, you mean?"

"And steering wheels. Design of a car that a big girl, a really big girl can 
drive. Or even get into and out of!"

"Tell me about it. I was getting a jeep for my twenty-first birthday, then 
this lot happened. What about the rest?"

We had almost reached the Third Form classroom. The Seconds will 
examine Sports for the Gigantic-breasted Woman, the Firsts are getting 
Office Furniture Design. The Fourths are doing Wheelbarrows and the 
Fifths will do research into Walking."

"Walking?"

"Weight transfer and distribution. Arm swinging. Balance, changing 
direction, route planning to avoid collisions with stationary objects ..."

"Okay! Sounds great." I put my hand up to exchange a high five and she 
touched it gently.

"See you after the break down at the bra shops. Just a formality, we've got 
your measurements. You're an SBSMLLCW5."

"What was my bust measurement with it dangling, you never did tell me, 
Shan?"

"That's for me to know and you to wonder. See ya later!"


**********

"Eighty-WHAT?" Moggie sat bolt upright and stared at the piece of paper in 
her hand.

"88-19-31. I let her dangle for five minutes. By the old method, she'd only 
be seventy-six."

"And I'd only be sixty-nine. That tiny waist, too! What's she like in bed? 
We're all dying to know."

"In bed?" I went scarlet.

"Oh, Shan, come on. The whole school heard you both. The windows were 
rattling. I never thought I'd hear anyone as loud as you ... Shannie!"

"I'd rather not say. It's a private matter."

"She's wetter than Megan, though!"

"Who said that?"

"You did. You bellowed it at the top of your ten-foot lungs at two in the 
morning. And Corinne yelled 'Oh, Shannie' immediately afterwards, so the 
entire school would be forgiven for thinking *she* became even wetter 
round about that time!"

"Oh, God!" I remembered the moment with crystal clarity, as well as the 
puddle of Corinne's sweet juices that had collected in my navel. I had 
avoided washing my navel since, and I had every intention of not washing 
it for the foreseeable future.

"Don't worry, Shan. The girls will think all the more highly of you. 
Although I believe Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen is having them write an 
essay on 'Screaming Orgasms in All-female Societal Groupings'."


**********

"When have we got Miss Meadowlark?" Suzanne looked up from her books 
and asked Pansy the question out of the blue.

"Tomorrow. Why?"

"She's nice. I like her." She stretched her arms above her head and her 
ScatBra creaked in noisy protest. "These things don't half give you 
backache! Mum was right when she said about huge boobs not being all 
they're cracked up to be."

"You could put some of the weights back in. You said you took them out 
because they were too heavy, but they're only there to balance your boobs 
in front."

"'Spose so, I'm loads bigger now. That was weeks ago."

"About two weeks, yes."

"Do you think Miss Meadowlark has backache, too?"

"She must do, she's huge. I mean, you're huge, but she's huger."

"You can't say huger, it's not a word."

"What is it, then, if it's not a word?"

"You've got to say something else, like ... bigger," Suzanne ended 
uncertainly.

"But she'd only be bigger if you were only big. You're more than just big, 
you're huge. So Miss Meadowlark is huger."

"Oh, all right. She's huger than me. I bet she gets backache. I bet she gets 
them something horrible. I'd like to help her feel better."

"How can you make her feel better. You going to learn massage, or what?"

"I was thinking of something we could spray on her back to make it feel 
better."

Pansy closed her exercise book and lay back on her bed, her head resting 
on her hands. Her breasts were smoothly rounded humps in her blouse. Big 
ones. Not huge, but big. "It would be nice to be able to give her something. 
How about New Love?"

"New Love? How's that supposed to cure backache?"

"Well, it makes you feel great. Didn't Anastasia say it felt great just before 
she tried to rape you? All warm and nice, she said. All we need to do is to 
make it stop working at the warm and nice stage, and before it gets 
erroneous."

"Just like that?"

"I should have thought you could have done that, easy. You're the 
chemistry genius. Just mess about with the delay and the speeder-upper 
and the strength. Bob's your uncle."

"Maybe. We could try. We could use it on Anastasia's back. Same as on her 
head, only a different experiment. It would save time, running two tests on 
the same volunteer." She opened a notepad and began to scribble figures. 
Frowning with concentration, her little pink tongue sticking out, she tapped 
away at her calculator and scribbled some more. "Right, we'll try it 
tomorrow. And when we see Miss Meadowlark, we'll ask her how her back 
feels."


**********

I suppose I should have noticed when the First Form Sexual Chemistry 
Group tied Anastasia to a chair, gagged her and stripped off her blouse in 
the laboratory, but I was helping another group a few yards away at the 
time. I did hear some noise, and a stool fell over, but I told them to behave 
themselves and it went quiet after that, so I assumed everything was all 
right.

And when I saw Anastasia, crying and decidedly topless, I was far too 
busy admiring her still-burgeoning breasts to ask what was going on. They 
really were growing quite beautifully.

"Your breasts look magnificent this morning, Anastasia!"

She blushed prettily. "But, Miss!"

"You'd better get dressed, though. We don't want you catching a cold, do 
we?"

"No, Miss," she conceded hopelessly. And she got dressed. And I did notice, 
she had a beatific smile on her face for the rest of the lesson.


**********

"It's working, Suze. I feel fantastic!" Anastasia was wriggling sensuously. 
"It feels just like I'm going to have an orgasm but it never quite happens."

"Organism", said Pansy. "You missed a bit out. You called it orgasm, it's 
organism."

"No, Pan, what it feels like is an orgasm. You know, like when you feel as if 
you're fucking, like when the boy's nose rubs against your little love bud 
thing ...?"

"Yeah," said Pansy, who had almost forgotten what it felt like.

"That's how it feels," sighed Anastasia, dreamily. "It's felt like it ever since 
I got sprayed, and that was before the morning break, two hours ago, 
now!"

"Maybe Suze does get things right every now and again. Psst! Look out, 
here she comes!"

The class stood up to greet their teacher.

"Good after-NOON, Miss Meadow-LARK!"





Chapter 30:- Come Here, Little Wet Girl


"And I walked in, and they all stood up and chanted 'Good After-NOON 
Miss Meadow-LARK'! The little darlings."

"I think of them that way sometimes, too," I said, with deep uncertainty. 
"How did the lesson go?"

"Not bad," said Corinne. "I told them the subject of the project for the term, 
and gave them a few ideas about Office Furniture, and how it affects the 
Gigantic-breasted Woman in the Working Environment, and then we all 
had a free discussion. They're really intelligent girls, some of the brightest 
I've met in the school so far."

"Oh, yes, they're bright enough."

"They kept asking about backache. Funny, that. Whatever I said, the 
conversation kept coming round to backache. It was a weird feeling. It 
seemed to be that Suzanne who was leading the discussion. After a while, 
she seemed to have taken over, and it was a discussion about Backache 
and the Gigantic-breasted Woman. Of course, she's going to be pretty 
enormous herself. Even I was never that huge when I wasn't even eleven!"

"Talking of backache, how's the ScatBra, by the way?"

"Fantastic! I've never felt so comfortable since I started getting gigantic! 
Years and years. If only I knew!"

"Nobody knew. It was only invented a couple of months ago. It's not too 
heavy?"

"I thought so, until I got used to it. It's harder on your feet than your back, 
carrying an extra twenty pounds around in counterweight, but the comfort 
more than makes up for it. And this is the bit I like about it!"

Corinne breathed in deeply. These latest ScatBras were almost silent in 
their adjustment. The thing swelled to accommodate Corinne's deep 
breathing, then as she reached behind her, the bra miraculously slid into 
its maximum uplift mode. My jaw dropped open as the best part of ninety 
inches of Corinne jutted out horizontally in front of her. No, I tell a lie, it 
was above the horizontal. Standing there like that, in just her bile green 
Scatbra and chrome yellow silk knickers, her hair down and flowing down 
around her waist, I wanted to eat her alive.

"Wow!" She lowered them down a few degrees. "I can only stand that for 
just so long!"

I surreptitiously mopped up the leakage where my panties would have 
been had I been wearing any.

"Cee's weally sowwy she made you come, Shannie!" Corinne didn't miss 
much, it seemed. She sidled over to me. "I'd invite you to bed, but there 
isn't one!" We gazed into each other's eyes for an hour or two.

"It will be here by tonight," I managed to say at last. "I checked with the 
shop, the van is on its rounds already." Everything else was ready for the 
new bed in Corinne's room: a new double-sized duvet, with a floral cover, 
pure silk sheets - Corinne had insisted on silk - and big fluffy pillows. We 
seemed assured of a perfect night's rest. Not!

The phone rang.

"Corinne Meadowlark, hello?" I gazed helplessly at her as she listened to 
the voice at the other end. She was studying the back of her hand, she 
brushed a little fluff off her left breast, she tucked her hair behind her ear, 
scratched her nose, bit her lip, then caught sight of me watching her and 
grinned a special grin. She turned a little bit pink. Here we go again, I 
thought, as Mr Spleen got busy. "Right!" she said, briskly. "I'll be right 
down and let them in!" She put the phone down.

"The bed's arrived. They're at the front doors and Jeremy's letting them in. 
I'll go down and ..."

"Like that? You want to get ravished?"

"Hmmm. Nice thought. Perhaps not, though. Could you go, Shan? You're 
slightly more decent than me."

I suppose I was, although I was wearing nothing but a giant specially 
made T-shirt. Not even a bra! I was just as likely to cause instant 
ejaculations among furniture delivery men as Corinne, looking the way I 
did. Which seemed as good a reason to go as any. The effect, as expected, 
was devastating. Two men, or a middle-aged man and a youth, had 
brought the bed into the lobby when I appeared. "Fuckin' 'ell," said the 
man faintly, and the youth grabbed at his groin. Better, I thought, than 
grabbing at mine. I don't know, though.

"Would you like to follow me? It's upstairs!" Perhaps a mistake, I realised 
as the front door was open, allowing a cool breeze to come in. It had a two-
fold effect. First, my nipples sprang to instant, pointy erection. And second, 
as I mounted the stairs, the breeze insinuated itself under my T-shirt and 
brought the whole of Lower Chauntaille Gruntworthy into the public 
domain.

I heard a crash and turned round. The bed was back at the foot of the 
stairs, and the boy was underneath it. The man was half sitting, half lying, 
clutching his chest and giving off grunting noises. I ventured back 
downstairs.

"I hope you haven't broken that. What happened?"

The boy filled in the events leading up to the present time. "Jack was at 
the back, and the wind blew your skirt ... your ... thing ..."

"It's a T-shirt!" I showed him, holding my arms out to the sides and giving 
a cautious twirl, perhaps an unwise move, certainly without a bra. The 
shirt billowed up, and the business end of one breast gollopped out into 
the fresh air. Fresh moans came from the floor.

"Anyway," the boy continued, holding himself intimately, "he saw your ... 
your ... underneath your ..."

"My T-shirt."

"No, your hairy bits. And he had one of his turns. He has them when he 
gets a shock."

"Oh, the poor man." I went over to give him my attention, perhaps some 
mouth-to-mouth, but he had passed out completely. Pity, really, he wasn't 
bad looking considering he was about forty. The youth had extricated 
himself from the fallen bed by now, and stood up. He was wearing tight 
jeans, I noticed, and he dressed on the right, unusually in my experience.

"Is everything all right?" Corinne had appeared at the top of the stairs. She 
leaned over, dressed in a denim work-shirt that would have looked quite 
boring on a man. She had so far neglected to put her jeans on.

"Fuck me, another of the fuckers!" whispered the boy. "Can I get a glass of 
water? Jack's got some tablets he has to take when he passes out."

I fetched him a glass from the toilets, taking the opportunity to put my 
breast away. The boy drained it in one gulp. "Thanks, I needed that. Can 
Jack have one as well, please?" I got him another, and he bent over his 
lifeless colleague. "He's still alive," he reported sadly.

"You look after him, my friend and I can take this thing upstairs." I waved 
to Corinne to come down, and we womanhandled it to the top of the stairs 
without too many disasters, although the boy spent more time watching us 
than her did reviving his workmate. At last, we heaved the bed into 
Corinne's room and returned downstairs, adjusting our dress to some 
semblance of decency.

"Do we have to sign for anything?" I asked the boy. He rooted around in 
the man's pockets and came up with a bundle of papers.

"Just there, thanks."

"Thanks. Can you manage, or shall we call an ambulance?"

"Yes please, it might be best."

So we did, calling 999 from Corinne's room.

"Did you see that disgusting slob," she said with a horrified expression. "He 
was practically raping us."

"Oh, I don't know. It would have taken him ten minutes to get his jeans off 
with the erection he had."

"They're all the same, boys!"

Most of them are, I thought, but that one certainly wasn't. Corinne can't 
have known all that many of them!


**********

Fortunately, we had the instructions for assembling the bed, putting the 
ends and the legs on. It looked most inviting with its pillows and bed 
covers in place. Especially the silk sheets. I'd not been too sure about silk 
sheets, but Corinne was undoubtedly right. They felt so cold when we 
stripped off and had a trial run that we instantly hugged each other to get 
thawed out, and one thing very nearly led to another.

Downstairs, the ambulance came and went, disturbing us only briefly, 
although we were pleased to hear that the driver didn't use his siren as he 
drove slowly away. Most thoughtful.


**********

"What are you doing, Suze? It's most offputting, you know."

"I'm sucking my tit, what's it look like?"

"That's what it looks like. But you mustn't, it's horrible."

"No law against it, Pan. 'Sides, it feels nice!"

"I bet there is a law against it. A St Cat's School Rule."

"Go on, then. Show me a St Cat's School Rule that says Junior girls mustn't 
suck their tits ..." Her nipple escaped, and bounced away, glistening with 
wet. "Anyway, I've stopped now," she said, more distinctly.

"Put it away, Suze," Pansy entreated. "Anyone might come in. We shouldn't 
really be in here after school, and if we get caught, you having your bloody 
great boobies hanging out won't help."

"That's why I've got them hanging out. It feels as though we're committing 
a major crime. Anyway, hurry up with that mixture, it's getting cold in 
here." Suzanne inspected her nipple with interest. It seemed to be growing. 
"Golly!" she said.

"Nearly done. Just got to pour it into the bottle." Pansy concentrated hard, 
and Suzanne stuck her tongue out to help her. "There!" They both breathed 
again.

"You'd better label this one, we don't want any mistakes. It's just Feel-Good 
Mixture."

"How are we going to spray Miss Meadowlark with it? We can't just walk 
up to her like we did to your Mum as she comes out of the bathroom. Do 
you reckon she's as big as your Mum?"

"We could hang around the teachers' rooms and catch her when she comes 
out to go to the loo. And no-one's as big as my Mum!"

"Except Miss Gruntworthy, and the Countess, and Shona, and half the Sixth 
Form, and Clarrie, and Baps and Cassie. Especially Cassie, 'cos she's no age 
at all."

"She can't be no age at all, unless she hadn't been born yet."

"I know, but that's what they all say about her. She's joining St Cat's after 
Summer holidays. She'll be in the Firsts and we'll be in the Seconds!"

"We can still talk to her, though," Suzanne said anxiously. "She is our friend 
even if she's not as old as us."

"Oh, all right then. It's not the done thing, but I suppose we could. In 
secret." Pansy stopped, and a smile slowly spread across her face.

"What's up with you, Pan, you got wind?"

"No, I was thinking. I had an idea. We don't need to spray Miss 
Meadowlark at all!"

"I thought that was the whole idea of this operation, cousin."

"No. The idea was to cover Miss Meadowlark with this stuff, not to spray 
her with it. All we need to do is to make sure she pours it all over herself." 

"Oh, right. Will you ask her? Or shall I?"

"Neither of us. We're going to put it in her shampoo bottle."

Suzanne stared at Pansy and slowly offered her a high five. "You're not 
such a dumbo as everyone says, you know!"

"Who says I'm a dumbo? Who says ...?"

"Never mind, I'll give you a list of names later. It's a brilliant idea, young 
Pansy! Now screw the top on that bottle, and let's get out of here." Suzanne 
piled her breasts back into her blouse and began fastening a few buttons.

Pansy secured the cap on the Feel-Good bottle. "You should have worn 
your bra. If that lot gets loose you'll get a detention."

"You're a scaredy-cat, you know that?"


**********

"What are you doing, Shan? It's most offputting, you know."

"I'm sucking my tit, what's it look like?"

"But why? You could be sucking one of mine. And Cee's nipples are twice 
as big as Shannie's!"

"And the rest! Four times or nothing. But I'll be coming to yours in a 
minute. I got some dust on mine while I was picking my panties up. Smegs 
will want those, for sure. They're an excellent example of pure Type A." I 
wiped my nipple and lowered the whole thing down to its fullest extent.

"I can't believe you, Shan."

"I can't believe you, Cee!"

"Come to bed, then. We've got some heavy cuddling to do."

"It's only seven o' clock, darling!"

"That's true." She looked at the clock, then turned it to face the wall. "You 
don't want to, then?"

I went over and sat on the edge of the bed. Corinne was sitting up, 
surrounded by pillows, brushing her hair. "May I do that for you?" I asked, 
with a lump in my throat. Her face lit up and she handed me the brush. 
"Lean forward," I told her, and she obeyed, her hair falling evenly from the 
crown of her head, covering her face and cascading over her breasts. I 
brushed in long slow strokes, and she made little sensuous sounds of 
rapture. Finally, I parted it from across her face and she looked out at me. 
"PeekaBOO!" I touched her on the end of her nose and felt her shudder. 
"Ooops!" I said, half to myself. Erogenous!

When I bent my head to touch her on the lips, her mouth opened softly 
against mine. "Let's cuddle! Please, Shannie!" I felt the words rather than 
hearing them. Her shoulders and neck felt so much softer tonight, not tense 
at all. She inclined her head to the side when I caressed the soft skin, and 
the fuzzy roots of her hair at the nape of her neck. She gave a soft squeak 
of pleasure, like a happy rabbit.

"Every time I look at your breasts, they seem bigger," I said. "You're sure 
they're not growing?"

"They'd better not be!" she looked down at where the back of my hand was 
gently tracing the soft, plump curve of the outside of her right breast. 
"They do look big, though!"

"They must be nearly as big as mine."

"C'mon, Shannie. You're thirty inches bigger than me. Forty even!"

"You know how mine dangle, Cee. Yours are so much fuller. I could look at 
them for hours."

Corinne turned the clock round to face us again. "Go on, then! I've got the 
time, if you have."

"Wouldn't you rather make love?" I fretted.

"But this *is* making love!" She laughed huskily. "I'm almost beginning to 
think you're a man in disguise. Ten seconds of foreplay, two minutes of 
action, then it's thank you and goodnight."

I tried to think of any men I had met that answered that description. All of 
them, I decided, at some stage in their career. "At least I say thank you," I 
muttered.

Corinne half turned towards me, and I felt the weight and fullness of her 
mighty breasts as they rested against the upper halves of mine. "It's a 
pretty good disguise, though," she whispered wetly and noisily in my ear.

Perhaps I am a man, after all, I thought, reaching for the box of Kleenex 
beside the bed.

"Oh, Shannie! You haven't christened these silk sheets in our first twenty 
minutes, have you? Whatever am I going to do with you?"

"You could try a cuddle, for a start. I'm all wet and cold. I warned you 
about silk sheets."

"Come here then, little wet girl. Cuddle up to Cee and get warm. Golly, you 
*are* wet, aren't you!"





Part XI





Chapter 31:- Feeling Better


"Sit down, all of you." We perched ourselves on the row of four chairs 
ranged in front of Moggie's desk. "As you are our four full-time teachers, 
I've decided to call a meeting to discuss a few matters to do with the 
running of the school. I won't detain you long." We settled in our chairs, 
ready for a lengthy stay. Corinne sat on my left, with Miss Rhys ap 
Llewelyn Owen beyond her, while Smegs was on my right, at a fractionally 
greater distance from me than always used to be the case. Moggie seemed 
to notice our separation.

"Chauntaille, how are you settling in with Corinne, your new double bed all 
right?" Moggie can be so considerate, at times: so diplomatic.

"Yes, thank you, Miss. Very comfortable." Corinne nodded her agreement 
and rested her little hand on my thigh, just above the hem of the skirt. I 
parted my legs a little and she left her hand where it was. It seemed to me 
a perfectly reasonable place to leave it.

"Remember to turn off the heating in your old room if you're not using it, 
Chauntaille, save the planet, remember!"

"Yes, Miss," I said glumly. My old room was more like a fridge than ever, 
even with the heating turned fully on.

"And you, Corinne? Settling in okay?"

"Thank you, Miss Thunderbolt."

"Good. Now then. A few more items ... er ... Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, 
what are you doing, please?"

Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen had stood up, unsteadily, and was rubbing 
the juncture of her thighs against the corner of Moggie's leather-topped 
desk. Her eyes were glazed and staring; she was emitting low moans.

"She's masturbating, Miss," said Smegs helpfully.

"I can fucking well *see* that," squeaked Moggie. "Why's she doing it in 
here?"

"She'll be finished in a minute, why not ask her then?"

We sat and talked amongst ourselves for a while, about last night's 
television, school meals, the local bus service, the fortunes of the England 
Rugby team. Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen was apparently and 
embarrassingly multi-orgasmic. Moggie looked at her watch and coughed 
politely. "Can you interrupt her; next time, Corinne, please?"

Corinne looked sheepish, but placed a cautious hand on Miss Rhys ap 
Llewelyn Owen's buttock during a brief lull in proceedings. The choir-
mistress looked round at her in annoyance. "What is it?" she demanded, 
irritably.

"I wonder if you'd mind, Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen," Moggie said with 
sweet reasonableness. "But we're holding a meeting here. We don't really 
have time for wanking. You ought have done that before school hours, you 
know."

"I did," Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen informed her, "Four times. No, five, if 
you count the once in bed while I was still asleep."

"Don't you think that's a little too frequently?"

"She *is* the Wanking Mistress, Miss," said Smegs. 

"That doesn't mean she has to do it all the time, Megan. Look ... stop her 
Corinne, she's at it again." Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen was restrained and 
sat down, panting raggedly. Moggie hurried on. "How about you, Megan? 
Getting plenty of action?"

"Ooooh, yes, Miss! My bed's getting a real workout. I'm sleeping with the 
Lower Sixths."

"What, all of them?"

"No, only about six. I had to get rid of the Countess because she insisted on 
bringing her wheelbarrow into the bedroom. There really isn't room. It's 
bad enough having it off with six girls with an average bust measurement 
of a hundred inches, let alone having to share the room with their personal 
transport systems."

Despite myself, I was becoming excited by the thought. Corinne sensed my 
increasing arousal somehow - she was highly sensitive to such things - and 
gripped the soft flesh of my inner thigh, her nails digging in. Smegs had 
gone on to describe last night's escapade, which had involved what seemed 
to have been several gallons of baby oil. I was starting to pant. My face felt 
hot. Corinne's fingers probed higher, above the hemline, into the loose leg 
of my knickers. She pushed the crotch-piece to one side and traced the line 
of my moistening slit with a practised finger. Moggie watched, leaning 
forward in her chair and propping her chin in her hands. She nodded in 
appreciation of Corinne's technique. My busty lover was working entirely 
by feel.

I came, shudderingly and not at all quietly.

Smegs stopped talking and placed her left hand tenderly on my right thigh.

Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen glanced across at me as if considering an 
action for breach of copyright.

Moggie clapped politely like a spectator at a Lawn Tennis match at the 
vicarage.

Corinne received a brimming handful of bodily fluids.

"Don't waste that lot," Smegs said sharply.

"I wasn't going to," Corinne said. With her gaze fixed firmly on Smegs's 
face, she raised her dripping hand to her lips, and lapped at it like a 
contented cat.

"Bloody hell!" said Moggie. "Shan, does she always drink that stuff?"

"She says it makes her boobs grow," I told her, recovering my power of 
speech.

"It certainly seems to be working!" Moggie tried hard to remember the 
next topic on the agenda. "Where were we?" she admitted defeat at last.

"I was describing last night," said Smegs, with relish, and I started moaning 
again, despite my best intentions.

"We'd better leave that subject for later," said Moggie, hurrying on. "Now, 
International Students."

"What about them?"

"Do we need some more? They are a valuable source of funds. Now, we 
have two at the moment. Demi Pamplemousse and Isabella Warnick-de 
Weiss. How are they progressing, anybody?"

"Demi is getting even hairier," I reported.

"Isabella's getting fatter," announced Corinne. 

"I rather meant their academic achievements, actually. Although it's 
interesting about Demi. Does she have hairs on the inside of her thighs and 
her calves?"

"Oooh, yes. She's like an animal. As for her crotch, well, she's getting to look 
like she's got a black cat tucked in her drawers."

"Lucky, some might say."

"And her armpits, " Smegs reminded us. "She's regularly late for classes 
because she says she has give each armpit one hundred strokes of the 
brush every morning."

"Hmmm. How about the Belgian slag? What's she weigh now?"

"She broke the scales," said Corinne.

"More fucking expense," complained Moggie. "What did they go up to?"

"Twenty stones. But she's more than that now, that was last week."

"God, she must be eating St Cat's out of house and home. Is there nothing 
we can do?"

"Not really," I said. "If she's gaining several pounds a day, she's likely to 
carry on growing faster and faster. It's a hormonal thing, probably."

"Can't we expel her?" Smegs wrinkled her nose. "She's just an overweight 
slob."

"Megan!" Moggie reproved her. She's a European! And she brings in 
thousands of pounds profit every year."

"Yeah, but she eats most of it. We can't even sell her panties."

Moggie looked up sharply. "Why not?"

"No demand. They sent the last lot back. Everything over fifty inches - 
rejected!"

"You heard that, Shan," said Moggie. "Bear that in mind. At the rate you're 
sticking weight on, you'll be rejected soon. What are your hips up to now, 
thirty-eight?"

"Thirty-nine, Miss," I confessed, going deep red. An embarrassed, ashamed 
silence fell on the meeting.

"Shan, that's utterly dreadful!" Moggie said at last. "Only five months ago 
you were thirty four. What about your waist?"

"Twenty-nine."

"Seven inches. Oh, Chauntaille!"

"Scandalous!" agreed Smegs.

"Disgusting!" said Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen.

"Shameful!" said Corinne, unnecessarily, I thought.

I began to cry.


**********

"Did you manage to do it, Suze?"

"Yeah. Piece of piss. They were making so much noise, I could have gone in 
there on a motorbike and they wouldn't have noticed."

"What were they doing?"

"I don't know. But I heard Miss Meadowlark shouting for somebody to fuck 
her, and Miss Gruntworthy joined in as well, so they must have had 
Jeremy or somebody in there with them. I thought of having a look, but I 
didn't want to be rude."

"You're not usually all that bothered by being rude. You're probably the 
rudest girl I know!"

"Gosh, thank you, Pan!" Suzanne gave her cousin an affectionate squeeze.

"How will we know when she's used it?" Pansy freed herself with an 
expression of distaste and readjusted the left half of her bosom, which 
seemed to have escaped out of the bottom of one of her bra cups.

"We'll just watch her every day and see if she looks particularly happy all 
of a sudden."

"Happy? But she's a teacher, Suze!"

"Well, she sounded pretty happy in bed last night. Even teachers laugh 
sometimes."

"What about?" Pansy wondered.


**********

I came out of my bedroom, through the kitchen area, wrapped fairly 
ineffectively in a giant beach towel. Corinne stared at me, sitting up in bed. 
"Ah, you're awake. Can I borrow your shampoo, Cee? Mine's run out."

"I wondered where you'd gone. I woke up and there you weren't. Thought 
it was something I'd said."

"No, I didn't want to disturb you, you looked so beautiful and peaceful 
lying there, I decided to let you have another five minutes. I thought I'd 
wash my hair." I raked at it with my claws for a while.

"I think mine's nearly all gone as well. It was on the shelf in the kitchen. 
There was just about enough for one go."

"We'd better share it, then!" I poked around on the shelf and found the 
bottle. "Is this yours?" I took it through and showed it to her. "It's full. 
Well, nearly." It was, too. The bottle was full almost to the top. "My offer 
still stands, though!" I gave her what was probably a wolfish grin. "I could 
scrub your back."

Corinne was out of bed with almost indecent haste, most unbecoming in a 
young lady. "I'm ready," she said, grabbing a towel and winding it round 
her waist, the weight of her breasts holding it in position. Mr Spleen was 
up and about early this morning, I thought.

The showers in the staff accommodation were quite palatial, compared to 
the size of the bedrooms. Each cubicle was fully four feet square with a 
plastic curtain closing off the opening. The shower heads gave out a thick, 
powerful spray of plentiful hot water. They would have been quite 
effective for removing winter road grime from the chassis of cars.

Four feet square or not, the cubicle was a tight fit with both Corinne and 
me in there. One assumed the designer made each of the cubicles big 
enough for two women, but failed to take into account that they might be 
sharing eighteen feet of bust between them. But then, that's designers for 
you, a total lack of forethought.

"Let me do your back!" I dumped the endlessly long wet tresses of her hair 
over her shoulder and felt the powerful back muscles beneath the skin. 
Hardly an ounce of fat on her anywhere. So soft, her skin, with the gentle 
foaming action of the suds. Or was that something else, like washing up 
liquid?

"What have you stopped for?"

"Sorry!" I began smoothing the lather up and down her back again, 
massaging her shoulders - still indented with the impression of the bra 
straps - the wings of her shoulder blades. "I was thinking about 
something."

"Good. So was I!"

"What were *you* thinking about?"

"I was wondering when you were going to get round to the front."

"I thought I was the impatient one! You can wait." Corinne's firm little 
bottom, the crests of the hip-bones ... she made room for my hand to 
attend to her inner thighs, but I was too occupied with the taut cheeks.

"C'mon, Shan, please!"

"In a minute. God, you're so tiny round the middle!" My hands slipped 
round the sides of her waist, slithery, slickery-wet, darting round to the 
front, feeling my hands trapped beneath Corinne's hugely full and heavy 
breasts.

"Shan!"

"Wait, Cee!" I moved closer behind her, feeling my breasts squash soapily 
against the backs of her thighs. She wiggled her hips and buttocks against 
me and I had to bite my lip or I'd have screamed. Those breasts! They 
seemed to go on and on for ever. They moved massively, swinging together 
like great shiny slippery ... oh, I don't know what they were like ... breasts, 
I suppose, but like no others. I had to bend slightly to reach the nipples 
and found them already erect, almost trying to push their way through the 
palms of my hands. Corinne decided she'd had enough of waiting.

She turned to face me, and I felt her breast as it slid across my chubby 
belly, and since Corinne was shorter than me, the nipple was perfectly 
placed to flick itself across the top of my streaming slit. We were made for 
each other. More soap, down the front of Corinne's chest, between the 
mountainously heavy breasts, which she squeezed playfully together to 
trap my hands.

Then she wasn't squashing her boobs together any more, her hands were 
elsewhere. I felt them on my shamefully heavy rump, pulling me closer 
until we were practically inside one another. They were around my waist, 
I felt her explore my newly-acquired love-handles. Love-handles, ME!

Corinne reached her face up and whispered in my ear above the rushing of 
the steamy waters. "Shan, please, I can't wait any ..."

"Who the bloody hell's in there?"

No, not Smegs!

The curtain was twitched aside. Smegs stood there, stark bollock naked, a 
towel in her hand; peering through the steam. "Can't you confine your 
*love-making*" - she spat out the word - "to the bedroom, ladies? If any of 
my Sixth Form girls came in, they wouldn't know what to think."





Chapter 32:- Chemical Solution


Corinne and I had no time to ponder on our discovery by Smegs in the 
shower. We had rinsed off the soap suds and trailed back to our room, 
subdued and deeply frustrated. We could hardly summon up the 
enthusiasm for more than half an hour of fondling before Moggie's latest 
emergency summit meeting in her office.

"Sorry we're late. My zipper stuck," I said, magnanimously taking the 
blame. Smegs gave a snort, an unpleasant sound.

"Sit down, both of you. Tuck yourself in, Corinne, please," said Moggie 
sternly, in no mood for young lovers this morning. "Emergency meeting! 
Won't detain you long."

We settled down again for the duration. Smegs, surprisingly, produced a 
carrier bag and started handing round currant buns and assorted fancies. 
A free discussion broke out concerning the relative merits of hot cross 
buns from various retail outlets. Moggie brought us back to reality, rapping 
on her desk with a heavy glass ashtray. Strange, I'd have thought it would 
have been stronger than that. Maybe it already had a crack in it.

We picked up most of the pieces and wrapped Corinne's silk panties round 
Moggie's bleeding hand. 

"Are these real silk, Corinne?" 

"Yes Miss Thunderbolt, all mine are real silk."

"Are they? Very nice ...!" Moggie had raised her hand to her nose and was 
sniffing appreciatively. She remembered herself. "Emergency meeting. 
Some of this concerns the Support and Mobility Mistress."

Corinne sat up straight in her chair. She had produced a notepad from 
somewhere and looked instantly so capable and efficient that I felt my 
loins melt instantly.

"Have your loins just melted, Chauntaille?" Moggie accused me.

"Yes, Miss. Sorry, Miss!"

"Mop it up before you leave, it's getting like a fish market in here. Now, 
Corinne, Support and Mobility. One of the girls came to me with a problem 
which is in your domain. She has one breast larger than the other."

"Gosh, Miss!" I said, "which one's that?"

"Which girl, or which breast?"

"Both. Which girl? And which breast, too?"

"That information is confidential, I'm afraid. It is Amelia Murgatroyd, 44-
25-35, from the Fifth Form. She came to me, tearful and distraught."

"Did she show them to you," said Smegs, eagerly.

"Eventually. I had to persuade her. It is a most distressing condition."

We all nodded in agreement, except Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, whose 
hands were busy with something in her underwear.

"So you reasoned with her, and she showed you her distressing condition?"

"Exactly. I told her if she didn't get her gear off in ten seconds, she was in 
detention for a month."

We all sat back happily. That's the way, Moggie, show the bastards who's 
boss.

"What were they like?" We all sat forward again, tongues moistening lips.

"Her right one is probably two or three cup sizes larger than the left. She 
had written to her mother, who saw her doctor, and they agreed she 
needed surgery."

"But surely reduction is unwise for a growing girl? What if it grew again?" 
Corinne obviously knew about such things.

"Who's talking about reduction? Do you think that's what her mother and 
the doctor meant?" Moggie looked flabbergasted. "I just automatically 
assumed they were going to make the left one bigger."

So had I.

Can't the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group help here?" I suggested. "They 
could give her left one a limited dose of boob spray. A couple of days and 
Amelia will be right as ninepence!"

Murmurs of assent broke out.

Moggie looked relieved. "Well, that seems to be settled then. Shan, will you 
tie up closely with Corinne on this one, please? Work together." It sounded 
all right to me, and I felt Corinne's hand grasp mine softly, somewhere 
between my upper thighs.

Smegs snorted and said "Huh!" or something like that.

"What was that, Megan?" Moggie looked sharply at her. "Are you doubting 
the ability of Chauntaille, Corinne and the First Form Sexual Chemistry 
Group to reach a satisfactory conclusion on this case?"

"No, I'm sure they will achieve total satisfaction," grunted Smegs. She's 
getting so bitter these days.


**********

We emerged from the meeting hand in hand.

"Do your breasts feel funny, Shan?"

"What do you mean, funny?" There's nothing funny about a ten foot bust. 
She should have known that, having the best part of seven and a half feet 
herself.

"Tight? Full? Tingly? Heavy?"

"Of course," I said. "They always do."

"Is you bra sort of tight?"

I felt around its edges. "Yep," I confirmed. "Tight as a drum."

"Not more tight than usual?"

I tried to grasp this improbable concept. "No. Is yours?"

"Oooh, yes! It feels as if it's shrunk in the wash."

"The ScatBra, manufactured as it is of the most up-to-the-second high-
technology aerospace-developed cost-effective cutting-edge materials, 
does not shrink in the wash."

"I know. That's why I'm a bit worried. I mean, it's not as if it's painful or 
anything, in fact it feels great! It's just ... well ... tight! Shannie! Do you 
think we ought to go back to the room and have a look at it?"

I was unable to find any fault with this idea, although I tried hard for 
several milliseconds.

"You don't have to drag me there, Shan, I'm going as fast as I can!"

Strange girl, Corinne. I could have sworn *she* was dragging *me*!


**********

"We'll see the results this morning, Pan! We've got old Titlark for Bras n' 
Barrows after the break."

"You shouldn't call her that, Suze. It's Miss Meadowlark."

"Jeez, what's up with you all of a sudden? You called her Titlark yourself 
yesterday."

"I dunno. She's nice. I was thinking it might be better to call her by her 
real name, that's all."

"Course she's nice. She's the best teacher of the lot. Nearly as good as Miss 
Gruntworthy, but we can still call her Titlark. It's a pretty name. I bet 
she'd like it herself."

"Maybe. It's only ... I hope we haven't done anything wrong, with the 
chemicals, I mean. She'll have been soaked in the stuff, after all. If 
anything did go wrong ... it would be horrible!"

"It will be all right, Pan! We tested it, didn't we? You getting cold feet or 
something? When did any of our special mixtures ever fail to work?"


**********

"Gosh, it's so tight. I can hardly breathe! Are you sure it can't have shrunk, 
Shan?"

"It must be stuck. Maybe the adjustment is stuck or something. Let me get 
the thing undone ... there!"

"Oof! Bloody hell, that's better. Ouch! Fuck me, look at them!"

"I see what you mean, Cee. You seem to have grown a bit." I ran my hands 
around the smooth taut curves of her breasts. They felt like over-inflated 
basketballs. They quivered slightly, but not as much as they ought to. "Do 
they feel all right?"

"Funny thing. They don't hurt at all, now the bra's off. They feel fantastic, 
in fact. I mean, I know they're bigger just by looking at them, but they're 
not uncomfortable. Does that make sense?"

"Well, you're going to need a bigger bra, for a start. That one's useless, it's 
cutting you in half. No wonder it felt tight. Has this happened before?"

"You've got to be joking, Shan. It's never stopped happening, not since I 
was ten! But it never happened this fast before, like overnight. I must be 
six inches bigger!"

"Would you like me to check? Just for our own personal satisfaction, I 
mean?"

"No time, Shan. I've got a class after the break. The kids, for Primary Bra 
Fitting: Phase I."

"That's a laugh, with that lot. Shona, Phase I!"

"They're sweet, those Juniors. They always ask the loveliest little 
questions. Like, 'if I get to be as big as you, Miss, how can I persuade them 
not to make me get them reduced?' This was a little flat-chested kid, and 
she's expecting to be as big as me one day!"

"If she's at St Cat's, anything might happen to her. Anyway, you won't let 
me measure you. Is that what you're saying?"

"Later, Shannie! I'd love nothing more, you know that." She snuggled closer 
and I felt better. Her breasts felt red hot against my naked chest. I should 
have mentioned, I had been taking all my clothes off while she had been 
telling me about the Juniors asking questions. "Golly, Shan, you talk about 
*me* growing. What about your nipples?"

"What about them?" I hate it when people say things like that. As if I could 
even see my nipples, let alone hold a reasonable and sensible discussion 
about the things.

"They're all puffy. Look!"

"It's no good. You're going to have to describe them to me."

"Well," Corinne said carefully, touching my left nipple with what felt like a 
moistened finger. "Your nipple itself is bigger than usual. You know how 
they're only a quarter the size of mine?"

"Yes, Corinne," I responded a little acidly.

"Well, I'd say it's only about a third as big now. Even with mine fully erect. 
So yours are bigger than I've ever seen them!" Well, that was promising 
news, anyway. "And your areolae." I felt her finger nail trace the 
periphery of one of them and gave an involuntary jump.

"It's sensitive," I said, wonderingly.

"So it ought to be, the way it's puffed up. Honestly, if you could see these 
things ...! It's the way a young girl's nipples look when she's growing, as if 
her breasts still have to catch up with the rest."

"Oh, no!"

"Oh, yes!" She gave my breast a friendly little pat. "Put them away, love. 
I've got to go to class." She picked up her discarded bra. "This is going to 
kill me!"

"Here, wait. Try mine." I took it off the bed and offered it to her. She bit 
her lip and blushed.

"I can't wear this, it's vast!"

"It's adjustable. Come on. No time to fuck around. Get your pumpkins in 
here. We'll get you a proper one later."

It fitted frighteningly well. Corinne's new figure was staggering. She 
couldn't fasten any of the buttons on her silk shirt, unfortunately, so we 
took it off her with regret and she had to wear one of mine. It was a bit 
loose, but not much. I wanted her badly.

"Later, darling," she patted my cheek with a soft hand. "See you later. 
You'd better get dressed before you catch a cold on your chest."

It was only when she had gone, and I had watched her from the window, 
an unlikely figure crossing the quad followed by disbelieving eyes, that I 
realised she had gone off with all my clean clothes. Everything else was in 
the laundry. Almost everything else.

Feeling conspicuously under-dressed, I dropped in on my Fourth Form 
Relationships class wearing only a pair of beach shorts and an extra-extra-
large T-shirt. No bra of course, and those shorts had even been a snug fit 
before I added five inches to my hips and seven to my waist.

The girls were very good about it really, when I broke down in tears and 
explained that all my clothes were in the laundry and this was all I had. 
They rallied round, offering sundry items of only slightly moist and soiled 
clothing. At the end of it all, I was slightly more presentable below the 
waist, and the one girl whose skirt had fitted me more or less perfectly 
was so thrilled to have been of such help to her teacher that she scarcely 
noticed when the class broke up for lunch and she accompanied her 
classmates into the restaurant completely naked from the waist down.

Being such polite, well brought-up girls, of course, the schoolgirls of St Cat's 
pretended not to notice.

And I, with my confidence and self-esteem restored to its high-water 
mark, accepted the good-natured howls and cat-calls of the entire school as 
I wobbled and jiggled in to lunch with one of the shortest skirts even St 
Cat's had ever seen. It was as well I couldn't see my nipples, really, or I 
would have almost died of shame.

"Look at the state of you," said Smegs, unkindly, as I took my seat.

"What's the matter?"

"Did you dress in a hurry after your latest session of love-making. In case 
it escaped your attention, you aren't wearing a bra. Girls with ten-foot 
busts ought really to wear a bra, Shan-tail!"

"I lent it to Corinne, she grew out of hers this morning. And my shirt," I 
added, before Smegs could mention it. "And I got this skirt off a Fourth 
Former."

"After a brief struggle, I should imagine." She looked me up and down. 
"Your nipples are sticking out obscenely," she kindly informed me.

"So everyone keeps saying. Can't you describe them to me?"

"Why should I give you the pleasure of having your engorged nipples and 
areolae like halved grapefruit described to you? Like I say, they're 
obscene. What's the matter, Shan? Not content with turning into a slut, 
you're letting your body go as well."

I wiped a tear away with the hem of my T-shirt before lowering it and 
stuffing my breasts back inside it where they lay in my lap. "You're so 
rotten to me, these days, Smegs." 

Just for a moment I thought I saw a soft look come into her eyes, then she 
sneered again like a human rights campaigner. She seemed to be about to 
say something, but closed her mouth again, got up from the table and 
stalked out.

I wasn't alone long. A great communal gasp suddenly ran round the room, 
and girls put down their knives and forks, craning their necks to see what 
was the cause of the disturbance. Above their heads I could see a blonde 
ponytail as it bobbed along toward the serving hatch. And as every eye in 
the restaurant followed her progress, the unbelievable Corinne 
Meadowlark undulated over to my table and squeezed herself into a 
vacant chair.

"Hi, Shannie," she murmured softly, "your nipples are really obscene, you 
know that?"




Chapter 33:- Amelia Murgatroyd's Treatment


There was a knock on the bedroom door. Not Smegs again, surely. No, she 
would have pounded on the door and yelled at us. We weren't making that 
much noise anyway. I was sitting on the floor with my mouth full of 
Corinne's lightly-furred moist bits, and she was eating an orange. So 
shouting was out of the question.

"Who is it?" Corinne said, thoughtlessly adding, "come in, the door's not 
locked."

"Aaargh!" I yelled, but there was no time to find a less compromising 
position before the door opened and a girl came in. She stopped in her 
tracks, taking in the scene.

"Amelia?" I said, rather indistinctly.

"Yes, Miss." She looked uncertainly at me and at Corinne, both stark naked 
and obviously busy. "Should I come back later, Miss?"

"No, no. Take a seat. Excuse us, we were just trying something out for the 
Sixth Form Relationships class."

"Golly!" Amelia looked impressed. "Do we get to do this next year?" She 
perched herself on the edge of the bed and watched intently, her chin in 
her hands.

I struggled to my feet with a sigh. Sometimes I find it difficult to do things 
in front of an audience, even such a well-behaved and appreciative one as 
Amelia Murgatroyd. Corinne finished her orange and stretched 
extravagantly, causing Amelia's eyes to pop almost clear out of their 
sockets. She was a pretty, dark-haired girl, with what in any other 
surroundings than St Cat's would be considered to be an extremely large 
bust. Here, she was just pleasantly average.

"We heard you had a bit of a problem, Amelia," said Corinne. "Is that why 
you're here? I should warn you, of course, that the staff domestic area is 
strictly out of bounds to students."

"Yes, I know, Miss. Sorry, Miss, but it was very important, Miss. And I 
followed a big crowd of Sixth Form girls up the stairs. They went round the 
corner at the end of the corridor."

"Yes," I told her, "they would have been going to Miss Mountains's room. 
How many of them?"

"Eleven, Miss."

"Golly!" Amelia was sitting sideways on the bed, so no matter which way 
we looked at her, we only got a profile view. "Now then, what seems to be 
the problem?"

"It's my breasts, Miss," the girl said promptly and without embarrassment. 
Perhaps, in view of Corinne and my state of total nudity, Amelia felt she 
was in the presence of women of the world. She spoke freely. "They're two 
different sizes."

"Reminds me of the woman who came from Devizes", I said, in perhaps 
doubtful taste. "Hers were two different sizes. One, in fact, was so small it 
was nothing at all, the other was large, and won prizes." I expected an 
embarrassed silence and I was well rewarded. The silence was broken only 
by Amelia's sobs.

"That's what all the girls keep chanting at me. I can't help it if I come from 
Devizes, Miss."

One couldn't help wondering if Amelia was perhaps missing the point.

Corinne had her arm round the girl's shoulders, offering support and 
comfort. "Get your blouse off," she said, "and let's have a look at them." No 
point in beating about the bush, I supposed.

Amelia stood up. From a full frontal view, she was definitely lop-sided, we 
could see as we bent and squinted at the girl critically. "Oh, yes," I said, 
"that one's miles bigger." The blouse came off, and Amelia stood there in 
her glory. Her bra was startlingly black and new-looking.

"Where did you get that?" Corinne asked her.

"In town. But that was before my right breast started getting too big for it."

Yes, well that did just about sum it up. The right one overflowed its cup in 
every imaginable way. The left one was a nice fit. "It's a 34J, Miss," Amelia 
said over her shoulder, as I tugged at the label trying to read the size. "Will 
it hurt, Miss?"

"Will what hurt, Amelia?"

"The surgery, Miss. If I have to go to hospital to get them made the same 
size, will it hurt when they do it. And afterwards? And could I choose how 
small I have them?"

How small? What on earth was the matter with the girl. "It needn't hurt at 
all, Amelia. Especially if they do it here."

"Here? You mean I wouldn't need to go into hospital? The doctor could 
come here and do it?" She seemed brighter already.

"I should see no reason why not. It certainly wouldn't hurt you. The latest 
products actually feel quite pleasant." Corinne nodded vigorously and 
cupped a tiny proportion of one of her breasts in both hands.

Amelia clapped her hands together. "Oh, goody! When could I have it done, 
Miss? Soon?"

"Tomorrow, I should think. And you will have a perfectly matching pair by 
the day after. I'll see you in the Sexual Chemistry laboratory at nine thirty 
tomorrow morning. Okay?"

"Ooooh, Miss!" Amelia reached around my neck and planted a generous 
kiss on my lips. Possibly my instinctive reaction startled her, but I did find 
her gesture remarkably arousing for a moment or two. "Miss?" she said 
uncertainly, taking a pace or two backwards.

"Yes, Amelia?"

"Oh, nothing, Miss." A strangely seductive expression crossed her face and 
she rubbed herself against my thigh like a hungry cat. "I'd better be going, 
then," she said, making no move to do so. In fact, her hand slid round 
behind me and caressed my embarrassingly plump buttock.

"Don't forget your blouse," Corinne reminded her, practically bundling her 
out of the door.

"Oh, she's gone," I said when I opened my eyes.

"What did you do to her?" Corinne demanded.

"I only put my tongue a little way into her mouth. It was only a friendly 
gesture, Cee!" Corinne was speechless. "Come here," I said. "I wasn't trying 
to get into Amelia's knickers, honestly. You're the only one for me, Cee, you 
know that."

"Huh," she said.

I sat on the floor again. "Where did we get to before she came in ...?"

But Corinne seemed not to be in the mood, for some reason. God, she's so 
changeable.


**********

At least, Corinne thawed out a bit before bedtime. During the afternoon, 
she had been down to see Clit and Flaps and get herself fitted out with a 
brand new ScatBra. It took a little longer than we had anticipated. She 
called me on the phone to explain.

"Shan? I'll be another hour. They need to run another bra up for me, I'm a 
difficult size, it seems."

"Oh, shit, Cee. This will screw up our evening."

"It's all right," she said, "you can still measure me later, if you like. Or 
tomorrow, it doesn't matter. Anytime, whenever."

"Thanks," I said. "What size is your new one?"

She was silent for a while, presumably while she squinted at the label. "It 
seems to say 'WASH SEPARATELY'. And SBSMXLCW6. What a ridiculous 
system! Is that very big?"

"XL? Did you say XL? That's ginormous!"

"Oh, super! Well, we both knew I got a bit bigger, didn't we!"

Well, that put me in a really happy mood. Not! I stormed off down to the 
First Form Sexual Chemistry Group and told them to get a good brew of 
boob-juice ready for the morning. "Enough for one breast ought to be 
enough. It's for Amelia Murgatroyd."

The girls twittered around excitedly, in a flurry of laboratory glassware 
and brightly coloured steam. I stomped back to the bedroom in the 
drizzling rain. As if everything else wasn't bad enough, now my nipples 
were hurting.


**********

"What's the deal with Amelia?" asked Pansy.

"You've seen her," said Suzanne. "She's got one tit bigger than the other. 
She wants them the same size. She's tiny anyway, only about a forty-four!"

"So we only get to do one tit?"

"Yeah. Better mix plenty, though, you never know."

"I am! About a five-litre batch. Tell you what, though. If we're only doing 
one side of her, wouldn't it be better if we didn't spray it on. We could try 
making it up as a cream, like we talked about."

"Then it has to be rubbed in? Who's going to volunteer to rub Amelia's 
tits?"

"I wouldn't mind rubbing Miss Meadowlark's," admitted Anastasia, amid 
general gasps of horror.

"Why can't we make some stuff to make tits smaller?" Shona wondered. 
Shona was having a bad tit day. She had rolled her wheelbarrow on to its 
side on some rough ground that morning, and she was still sore. The others 
looked at her in disbelief.

"Smaller?" Suzanne said, as if she had never heard the word in her life 
before.

"Smaller. We could rub it on her big one and make them both the same size 
that way."

The other girls ignored Shona, apart from suffering shudders of horror at 
the big girl's obscene suggestion.

"Will it be ready by morning, Pan?" said Suzanne.

"Should be. But we can always put some extra hardener in it if it looks as 
though it's not going to set properly." She dipped a finger into the brew 
and sniffed it cautiously. A slow smile spread across her face. "I think this 
is going to be a good batch," she said.


**********

The First Form Sexual Chemistry Group packed away their apparatus and 
waved bye-bye to the disco lad. Anastasia toyed with the idea of giving 
him a good face-sitting, but reluctantly followed her classmates in the 
direction of the restaurant.

"I'll follow you in a minute," Shona shouted, waddling back into the lab. 
She quickly took a book out of the drawer, and ran her finger down the 
handwritten list of ingredients for the latest boob-juice.

Ah, here it was. She studied the formula for a moment, then took the 
gallon-sized container of boob-cream down from the shelf. Working 
quickly, she began to mix chemicals together.


**********

It was almost nine-thirty. The lab was empty of students. The First Form 
Sexual Chemistry Group were with Corinne, learning about wheelbarrow 
theory. Shona, with her practical barrow experience, had been excused, 
and we had asked her to come along to the lab and help administer the 
boob-juice to Amelia Murgatroyd.

Amelia sat on the edge of the bench looking nervous and lopsided, then we 
heard Shona's barrow trundling down the corridor at a brisk rate. A 
mighty crash heralded her arrival outside the lab. It was several minutes 
before Shona blundered into the room, flushed and sobbing.

"I crashed again, Miss," she whined.

"Never mind, Shona," I said comfortingly, and to my surprise, Amelia slid 
her bottom off the bench and enfolded the huge girl in her arms. I saw 
Shona's expression change from surprise, to alarm, to delight to ecstasy as 
Amelia's tongue filled her mouth. Their hands wandered restlessly across 
each other's bodices.

"Erm ... excuse me, girls. Could we perhaps get on? You can make love later 
if you still feel so inclined."

"Ooooh, thank you, Miss!" said both girls feverishly.

"Strip off, Amelia," I said, and turned away while she removed her blouse. 
Shona, I noticed, watched with fascination. "And your bra, please," I said. 
"Now sit down, and just relax."

"May I rub it on, Miss?" Shona pleaded. "It's this new cream, Miss. Less 
risky than the spray."

That was fine by me. With Corinne's hot-and-cold behaviour I was going 
off girls. A session of rubbing the breasts of a nubile, if lopsided, teenager 
was the last thing I needed. Shona, panting with the effort, took a gallon 
container down from the shelf.

"God, you made enough of it, didn't you? Go ahead then. Rub it well in!"

Shona dived her hand into the tub and came out with a generous handful. 
It was a bilious green. She weighed the handful for a moment, before going 
'sploshhhh!' with it, squarely on to Amelia's right breast.

"Yaaaagh!" screamed Amelia. "You could have warmed it up first!" Then 
she began to smile as Shona massaged the cream into the skin. Quickly, the 
girl's breast took on a glistening sheen and she began to moan softly in her 
throat. She began to nuzzle at Shona's arm each time it came within reach. 
In no time, they were both moaning and pawing at each other.

"Good God, you two! Show a little decorum, please!"

Too late, they were rolling on the floor hugging each other. Shona was on 
top, which was unfortunate for Amelia, almost smothered beneath the vast 
bulk of the Junior girl's gigantic lollopers. I wrestled them apart, and they 
sat there, panting and trying to get to grips with each other again.

"Amelia! Shona! NO!" They looked up at me at last and I looked from one to 
the other. Eventually, their passion faded away and they stood up 
apologetically. Amelia got dressed.

It wasn't until she had gone back to her class that a thought occurred to 
me. "You did put that on the the right breast, Shona, didn't you?"

"Of course, Miss!" She said it without a trace of guile or craftiness. I gazed 
into her eyes. No doubt about it. Shona was telling the absolute truth.


**********

It was lunchtime when I saw Amelia in the restaurant. "How is it feeling?" 
I asked her.

She patted her larger breast tenderly. "It's tingling a bit, Miss. Better than 
having them cut it off, though!"

What did she mean by that, I thought, watching her walk away. And a 
sudden icy cold sweat came over me. No, surely not!




BIG FEATURE AT ST CAT'S

by Some Sort of Dog





Part XII





Chapter 34:- The Girl From Devizes


"How are they, Cee?"

"A bit full. This new bra's been adjusting itself all morning. And I wanted 
you, Shan! I wanted to talk to you ever since you went off to the lab at 
nine."

"And I wanted you, too. My nipples have been sore all morning."

"You should see them, Shannie," she said, peering at them.

"Don't start that again. You know I can't see them!"

"They're sticking out even through your bra and sweater. Bigger than ever. 
Can't we go back to the bedroom and look at each other for a while. I want 
to look at you, Shannie!"

"All the girls are looking at us, Cee," I said out of the corner of my mouth. I 
grinned stupidly round the restaurant at the girls who were staring at us. 
They stared right back, stony-faced.

Corinne reluctantly took her face out of my lap and went back to her seat 
on the other side of the table. I stood up and wriggled my skirt back up 
over my hips. Gosh, it was tight. Surely I wasn't getting even bigger.

"You're getting even bigger, Shan," Corinne confirmed.

"Thank you, dearest heart! You are most kind."

"How did it go with Thingie. Amelia?"

"One of her breasts wasn't big enough," I said. Which one was it, again?"

"Her right one was too big."

"So what you're saying is that her left one was too small. Shona rubbed the 
cream into the right one."

"Good. She's a sensible girl."

"No, that was the wrong one."

Corinne ran a hand over her face. "But you said it was right. I saw Shona 
on her way to the lab with her barrow this morning. She ran over my foot, 
in fact. She said she'd made some special stuff to rub on to Amelia that 
would make her right breast smaller. I said I wouldn't mind some of that 
on both of mine. Funny, I don't think she really believed me."

"*She* didn't believe you? *I* don't believe you."

"You think I *enjoy* being this size?"

"You mean you don't?" I was absolutely horrified. The thought that anyone 
could *not* want gigantic breasts filled me with dread. Especially Corinne!

"Well, not all the time. It's great when we're together. In bed, in the 
shower, all wet and soapy ..."

Corinne was getting moist again. So was I.

"Come on," I said. "We just need to get through the afternoon, then it will 
be bedtime. The simple life."

Corinne clung to my arm as we sashayed out of the restaurant. I don't 
know what that word means, but I'm sure that's what we were doing. Two 
hundred pairs of eyes followed us, and I'm sure not all of them were 
focused on my fat bottom.


**********

The afternoon really dragged. I kept looking at my watch, convinced it was 
going backwards. If it was going backwards, it was going so slowly that I 
couldn't see the hands moving even when I really concentrated hard and 
stared at it for several minutes.

"Excuse me, Miss!"

I came back to the land of the living. "Yes, Toria?"

"Are you going to bother to teach us anything, Miss, or can we all go and do 
something more interesting? You've been gazing at your watch for the last 
ten minutes."

I sat and stared at her, and to my horror found tears streaming down my 
cheeks.

Victoria got up from her desk and came to the front of the class. "I'll send 
the rest of them off to do something else, Miss," she said quietly. "You're 
too upset to carry on." I heard her clapping for attention, then she 
dismissed the class, telling them to go and do general studies in the 
common room. "Now," she said gently. "What's the matter, Miss? You can 
tell me."

I couldn't think of anything to say.

"Have you got a tummy-ache? A headache? Is your period late? Have you 
been sick in the mornings? Your nipples look enormous. Are you sure 
you're not pregnant, Miss?"

I shook my head. Tears splashed on my desk. Victoria came and put her 
arm around me. "Take the rest of the afternoon off. Go and lie down for a 
bit. Shall I tell Miss Mountains, Miss?"

"No!" I said hurriedly.

"Miss Meadowlark, then?" I nodded dumbly, and she smiled. "Okay. Off you 
go. I'll find her." I felt her soft lips brush my cheek. What was going on 
round here? When I looked up, Toria had gone. Had it all been a dream? 
No, the classroom was empty. And my watch wasn't going backwards. It 
was three o' clock. I got up, my swollen nipples sore and throbbing, and 
moved slowly to the door.

It was almost dark, drizzling with rain. I decided to take a short cut around 
the side of the main block, beneath the trees. I had reached the last five 
yards, almost under the shelter of the porchway, when a shadowy, hooded 
figure sprang out of the shadows and reared up above me. I screamed and 
tried to run, but the ground was slippery and I felt myself falling.

All these years, wasted. So young, so much love to give, this young life 
snuffed out, like a candle in the wind. The irony of it was that I had found 
a real, warm, affectionate and incredibly large-breasted lover; only to be 
murdered almost within screaming distance of our own bedroom. I 
stumbled to the ground and it all went dark.

"Miss? You all right? You fell over."

The hooded figure loomed over me, a silhouette against the dim light of the 
wintry sky.

"I was waiting for you, Miss." I knew that West Country accent.

"Amelia?"

"Oh, Miss. You're all right. I thought you might have lost your memory 
when you fell down. Can you walk? Steady?"

She helped me to my feet. I was staggering a bit, but Amelia was strong 
enough to support me.

"Come on, up the stairs."

I opened the bedroom door and we went in. Amelia stood just inside the 
door, shrouded in a blanket. She pointed to it with a rueful grin. "I had to 
wear this. It makes me look a bit strange, Miss."

"What's the matter?" But I'd already guessed. She slipped the blanket off 
and dropped it on the floor. I'd guessed the nature of Amelia's problem, 
but not the extent of it. Her right breast was vast. Her left one was still a 
mere J-cup. "Oh, dear. Amelia! Shona got the wrong boob."

"No, it was the right one. It was the chemical that didn't work properly."

"It looks as if it worked just fine," I said, indignantly.

"But it's three times as big as this morning, not smaller."

"We can't make boobs smaller! Who ever heard of such a ridiculous idea?"

Amelia looked as if she didn't really understand. "But what are we going to 
do? I can't walk around like this."

"That's simple enough. We'll just make the left one bigger to match. It 
won't take long. If we do it tonight, you'll be nice and symmetrical by 
morning. We can hide you in the bedroom next door. There's a bed in 
there. You'll need your security blanket, but it's not a bad little bed. Look, 
I'll call the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group, and we'll get you 
equalised."

"But, Miss! You can't make my left one as big as this other one. I'll be 
gigantic."

"You'll be gargantuan, actually, Amelia, but at least you'll be symmetrical. 
Symmetry is a girl's best friend. Men tend to steer clear of asymmetrical 
girls." I was rambling and we both knew it. I picked up the phone and 
called Miss Labia. She promised to send a message and get the First Form 
Sexual Chemistry Group up here with the tub of cream urgently.

"There," I said. "All under control."

The door opened suddenly and slammed back on its hinges.

"Shan? Shan! Are you all right? Toria said you'd had an attack of 
pregnancy or something!" She flung her arms around me and we hugged 
for several minutes. Then over my shoulder, she spotted Amelia. "What the 
bloody shit happened to *her*?" she gasped.

"They got the wrong boobie, the stupid cows!"

"No, Miss, this is the right ..."

"Let's not go through that again!" I turned to Corinne again. "The First Form 
Sexual Chemistry Group are coming over with some more of the boob 
cream. They're going to do her left one this time."

"Wow!"

"Wow?"

"Well, I mean. Are they going to make it as big as the right one? Amelia's 
going to become a major player in the St Cat's Big Bust League."

"But, Miss, I don't want ..."

"At least, she'll be symmetrical, Cee. Being so beautifully symmetrical 
yourself, you will appreciate the benefits of that."

"I suppose so." Corinne didn't sound convinced. Some women are so 
ungrateful to Mother Nature. There was a knock on the door. Two knocks, 
in fact. That is, several knocks, but two people knocking. A sound of 
unseemly scuffling came to us as well.

"Come in," Corinne shouted. The door opened, and a dishevelled Suzanne 
and Pansy burst in. They jostled each other, giggling and being generally 
little-girlish.

"Hi, Miss," said Suzanne.

"Lo, Miss Meadowlark," murmured Pansy, blushing deeply. Ah, I thought, a 
sub-teenage crush is making its presence felt. Suzanne plonked down a tub 
on which was scrawled the legend 'TIT CREAM'. She looked at Amelia and 
her eyes goggled.

"Fuck ME! Ooops! Sorry, Miss!"

"That's all right, Suzanne, under the circumstances, it's understandable. 
Now, you girls can see the problem. Shona did the wrong tittie."

"No, Miss ..."

"It's all right, Amelia. We only need one briefing. Too much conflicting 
information will only confuse Suzanne and Pansy. Now, you three, would 
you like to go and do this in the next room. Through that kitchen, there. 
It's a bit cold, but I have turned on the heating."

The three of them trudged through into my old bedroom and closed the 
door. I had a sudden thought. Opening the door, I shouted to them a last 
minute instruction. "And make sure you do the right one this time!"

"Are you feeling better, darling?" Corinne placed a cool hand on my brow. 
"What was the matter? Was it pregnancy? Was Toria right?"

"I don't think so. I haven't missed a period since I don't know when. 
Maybe Toria misread the symptoms. I just came over all weepy in class. I 
wanted you."

Corinne's arms were around me, tightly. One of her Number One Hugs. 
"Ouch! My nipples are sore."

"I never touched them," she said. "Not right down there."

"No, your knee bumped one of them."

"I think we'd better have a look at those things. Get them out!"

I fumbled with my buttons and unveiled everything. It took some time to 
get my bra undone, I was so tender. At last, Corinne carefully removed the 
bra and laid it on the bed.

"Oh, Shan," she said, "they're terribly swollen! Here." She took an areola in 
her cool hand, held it softly. "Does that feel better?"

"Yesssss. Hold my other one."

"Like this?"

"Yes, Cee. Are they really swollen badly?"

"About twice as big as they were this morning. They must be about D-cups 
on their own!"

No wonder my bra was uncomfortable. "What should I do? Should I take 
them to see the doctor?"

"No, I shouldn't think that's necessary. Just pop them in the post."

That's one of the nice things about Corinne, she has such a hugely-
developed sense of humour.


**********

"But you heard what Miss Gruntworthy said, Pan. Make sure you do the 
*right* one."

"But it was the *left* that was too small, and we've done that."

Amelia's left breast, the dinky little J-cup sized one, gleamed faintly with 
the cream which Suzanne had rubbed in with the vigour she brought to all 
her undertakings.

"You've done the wrong one ..." Amelia started to complain for the 
umpteenth time. The First Form Sexual Chemistry Group ignored her 
protests.

"I think she meant we have to do the left one, like she said, then do the 
right one as well."

"But Suze! The right one's enormous already. Why make it even bigger?"

"We only obey orders, Pansy!"

"Oh, I wish Miss Meadowlark was here to help us," Pansy said, blushing at 
the mention of her beloved's name.

"Yeah, I bet you do. Are you in love with her or something?"

"NO!"

"I knew you were. Anyway, give me that tub. I'm going to do her right one 
as well. Then we can get back to the common room. I can watch telly and 
you can wank yourself silly over Old Titlark."

"I wish you wouldn't call her that, Suzanne." Pansy stopped speaking, 
fascinated and horrified, as a huge glop of cream landed on Amelia's right 
breast. Suzanne began rubbing it in, evidently enjoying herself. "That's too 
much! Suze, there's enough there for ten girls!"

"Well, it's a big tit. It stands to reason it will take more cream than a small 
one. There." She patted Amelia's right breast then stood back and admired 
her handiwork. "All done, Amelia!"

Amelia began to cry.

Embarrassed by the sight of a Senior girl weeping in their midst, the 
Juniors picked up the tub and took their leave.


**********

"All done, Miss," announced Suzanne.

"Good, well done, girls. I think that will be all. See you tomorrow. Enjoy 
your evening."

Pansy stopped at the door, reluctant to leave. "Miss Meadowlark," she said 
quietly.

Corinne seemed to know. "Yes, Pansy," she said with a little smile.

"Oooh, nothing, Miss." Pansy brightened visibly. "Thank you, Miss!"

The door closed behind them. Corinne blew out her cheeks. "Does that 
happen often? Do girls fall in love with *you*, too?"

"All the time, Cee. You handled it just right."

"But all I did was say her name?"

"That's all it takes, Cee. They're easily pleased. She'll cry herself to sleep 
tonight, with three fingers inside her sopping love-tunnel."

"Three?"

"The number is probably immaterial, Cee. You're right, as usual. But there 
was something you promised earlier." It was my turn to blush. "May I 
measure your bust, now, please?"





Chapter 35:- Shaping Up Nicely


"You look even bigger this morning, Cee!"

"You're not measuring them again. You know what it led to last night. We 
can't keep changing the sheets like this every day. God knows what Amelia 
thought!"

I clapped a hand to my mouth. "I forgot she was in there. She's so quiet. 
You should have reminded me."

"What, tell you to keep quiet while you're making love? Come on, Shannie, 
get real!"

"I suppose so," I sighed. "You weren't exactly the soul of discretion 
yourself, though, from what I remember. Did you, or did you not, at one 
stage, shout the words - and I quote: 'Oh, Chauntaille, I wish you could 
nipple-fuck me in three holes at once instead of just two'."

"I may have done," Corinne said guardedly. "Should we wake her up, do 
you think? She'll have had a disturbed night."

"We'd better. She'll be wanting her breakfast."

I watched Corinne clamber out of bed and wiggle heavily to the kitchen 
door. From behind, her breasts were easily visible on each side of her 
body. The tape measure had given a measurement of ninety-one inches 
last night, using Corinne' method of laying them on the top of the desk. She 
said the St Cat's table-top method was too painful for her, at least, for the 
time being.

Each of those mighty whoppers was now as wide as her waist. No, wrong! 
Each one protruded to the side as far as the width of her waist. Does that 
make sense? It made a lot of sense to me as I saw her disappear next door 
with a cheeky little grin over her shoulder.

"Shan!" She had reappeared, an anxious expression on her face. "You'd 
better come and have a look at Amelia." She withdrew her head, and filled 
with foreboding, I struggled out of bed and stood up. My D-cup nipples felt 
incredibly sensitive this morning, even when they brushed lightly against 
the bed or the furniture. They bounced off the door, then the ironing table, 
and finally the door of my old room.

Amelia was sitting up in bed, unable to believe what her own eyes were 
showing her. Corinne stood with a horrified expression, looking at me. 
"What can we do?" she whispered.

Good question, Cee, I thought.

Amelia's left breast had filled out nicely. Perhaps a further small 
application of cream would be required to bring it up to the size we had 
envisaged. That was the good news.

The less good news was that the right one had doubled in size from it's 
already wholly inconvenient girth of the previous evening. It was now 
taut, rigid and spherical. It quivered only slightly when I jabbed it with a 
finger. Amelia grunted and began to cry again. She was such a cry-baby. 
On this occasion, though, I did feel a little sympathy for her. It was clearly 
only the fact that the skin of her right breast had said 'enough' and refused 
to swell any further that prevented Amelia from reaching an even more 
outrageous size. Maybe in time it would relent and enter into negotiations.

Meanwhile, Amanda's left breast was perhaps sixteen inches in diameter. 
Her right one was two feet! I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, 
the situation was unchanged.

"We'd better get her out of bed, I suppose," I said.

"What for? She'll never be able to stand up with those things."

"She'll have to learn to stand up some time. She can't lie there for the rest 
of her life. Come on, you take her other hand."

Together, we got Amelia in a sitting position on the edge of the bed, then, 
with her breasts bumping on her knees, we tried to get her to stand up. It 
didn't work! Her right breast was squashed between her chest and her 
thigh, and nothing we could do would allow her to straighten her body. I 
tried pulling her breast out of the way, but it was so full and rigid, it 
wouldn't move far enough, and Amelia cried so piteously we had to call a 
halt and lower her to the bed again.

"Let's try rolling her on to her side," Corinne suggested. An entertaining 
five minutes followed, with all three of us rolling on the narrow bed. At 
one stage, I became aware of Corinne's fingers exploring my most private 
area, and I was sorely tempted to give her a good licking out, but I 
decided, after due consideration, that this was not the time, although it was 
probably as good a place as any.

That was when I realised that Corinne and I were alone on the bed. We 
peered over the edge, and saw Amelia on her hands and knees. She was 
leaning against the bed with her left side because of the list to port caused 
by the greater size of her right boob, which was big enough to prevent her 
getting her right hand down on to the floor. So, hands and knees wasn't 
quite the right term. It was hand, knees and one breast. Not that the 
terminology mattered.

"I think we've got her, Cee!" I scrambled down to Amelia's side, and hauled 
her legs out straight behind her. She squealed in fright and began 
whimpering. She was now lying on her front at an angle of around ten 
degrees from the horizontal, balanced on her vast tits. "Hold still, Amelia, 
don't bend in the middle," I told her, and between us, Corinne and I 
managed to raise the poor girl to the vertical position, where she stood, 
defying gravity and belief.

Already, I saw, her right breast had decided that it couldn't carry out a 
single-breasted campaign against the forces of nature for ever, and had 
slumped into a sort of pear shape which I found actually quite attractive 
once you got used to it. Her left breast had fewer problems. It had settled 
with its nipple just below the level of Amelia's crotch, and was jiggling 
gently to itself, awaiting instructions.

The right one had already reached mid-thigh level and was on its way past 
her knee. It was beginning to look more like a breast and less like a 
weather balloon.

"That's much better, Amelia. No, don't try and walk just yet!"

"I wasn't, Miss. I was only trying to breathe."

"I think you can probably let nature take care of that, Amelia, dear. You 
just concentrate on staying on your feet."

And, to her eternal credit, she did. She even began to enjoy standing up 
after a while, and gave little giggles whenever she lost her balance and 
tottered a few steps, usually forwards. She only fell over a couple of times, 
and she soon learned her lesson about that. Not that she had very far to 
fall, but it must have hurt her a little bit.

"Can you keep her balanced there, Cee? I'll go and get dressed and fetch 
help."

"What? How long will you be? I can't stand here much longer, I badly need 
a piss. Very badly." She considered her internal workings for a while and a 
haunted expression crossed her lovely face. "And probably something a bit 
more serious, too. Five minutes, max, okay?"

"I'll do my best," I promised, coming back into the room and struggling into 
my bra. "Ouch!"

"Where are you going, anyway?"

"Jeremy first. We've got to get the doorway widened. We'll never get her 
out through there. Then the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group."

"What for!"

"To get her left one up to the size of the right! She looks simply dreadful 
like this." I buttoned my blouse. "Okay, babes, see you in a little while."


**********

I did become unfortunately detained, but not for long. Jeremy's shed was 
in darkness, but his Jaguar was outside, so I took a look in the sleeping 
area and found him still in bed. He was not alone. In fact, he had the 
company of two of the Sixth Form girls I vaguely recognised, one who was 
over six feet tall, the other well under five feet. Both were phenomenally 
beautiful and equipped with staggeringly overdeveloped breasts.

They sportingly made room for me in the bed and I snuggled up to Jeremy 
while I explained the situation. Of course, he wanted me to describe 
Amelia's development in intimate detail, which I did, although it was a 
little off-putting to find that he was giving the smaller girl a hearty 
pumping as I completed my description.

"It's all right," he panted, "I'm still listening!" So was the taller girl, who 
seemed to become quite excited at the thought, and showed the fact by 
rubbing herself on my leg like a randy dog. I had to help her to a climax or 
two, which took no more than seven minutes.

So I was back in the bedroom without too much delay, and found Corinne 
going practically ape-shit. "It's all right," I told her graciously, you can 
have your piss now.

"It's too late for that! It's touch and go whether I'll make it to the bogs in 
time for the other." And she shot out of the room, still naked, and bumped 
heavily into Suzanne and Pansy. Especially Pansy, who wet herself 
copiously and had to go and lie down to get over it.

Ungrateful wretch that she was, Amelia cried the whole time Suzanne was 
plastering the boob cream on to her left breast, but the First Former did 
her usual competent job and put the lid back on the tub.

"There's still plenty left, Miss. Have you got anyone else who needs doing?"

"I'll have a think about it, Suze. Don't throw it away. We might need to give 
Amelia a bit more."

A fresh chorus of howls came from Amelia, so I put a chair next to her and 
let her hold on to that.

"Come on, Suzanne." I had to jerk my thumb in the direction of the door 
before she understood, Amelia was making so much noise.

"You can't hear yourself think in there, Suze! Now what was it you were 
trying to tell me?"

"I was going to ask if you thought Amelia might want to go to the loo at 
all?"

"God no, she'll be all right. It's only ten o' clock. Jeremy will have her out of 
there by this afternoon."


**********

It was quite successful. The First Form Sexual Chemistry Group had really 
done a tremendous job on the boob cream. It was now almost consistent 
and repeatable in operation.

Amelia's left breast had become only slightly bigger than the right, six 
inches or so bigger in diameter, but by the time we had given the other 
one a quick dose, and a few more minor applications here and there, 
Amelia was beautifully symmetrical by the end of the week.

Of course, it was inconvenient that Jeremy couldn't make the door wide 
enough to get her out of my old bedroom, and we had to have the builders 
in to take down half the wall, but we managed to get hold of a portable 
toilet, and we fed her on sandwiches and stuff, so I'm sure Amelia was 
quite happy in there. I bet she was so happy, that it was a disappointment 
for her when she finally emerged, after no more than eight days in 
captivity, with her breasts - now magnificently shaped and with a soft and 
yielding consistency - swaying around her ankles.

"Thank you, Miss," she said when we let her out. There were tears of 
gratitude in her eyes. I suppose they were gratitude. Not many girls get 
the opportunity to become as hugely developed as Amelia.

As we watched from the window at Amelia weaving her wheelbarrow 
across the quad, Corinne softly stroked my pubic hair and said, "she looks 
wonderful, doesn't she? I was wrong to doubt you. Symmetry is so 
important."

"Where's she going?"

Amelia was steering an approximate course for the school gates.

"She'll get used to her barrow soon. It can't be easy, making it go where 
you want. Do you think it's really big enough for her?"

"Probably a bit on the small side. Maybe we can get her a bigger one." I 
stroked the side of her breast. "You'd better start getting some 
wheelbarrow practice yourself, Cee, the way you're growing!"

She didn't answer. She looked a bit apprehensive.


**********

"There, try that, Miss Gruntwurvy. It ought to be okay now."

"Oooh, thanks, Clit! It looks a bit strange." I dangled myself into the 
curiously shaped bra cups. The now enormous swollen areolae fitted into 
the specially shaped ends of the modified ScatBra. It felt marvellous. 
"That's lovely. It makes all the difference."

"I don't like them," Flaps said sourly. "They look stupid sticking out like 
that."

"She can't help the shape of her tits, you daft cow. Look at them. I fink 
they look quite erotic. I'm gettin' wet just lookin' at them!"

"Are you really?" I looked at my watch. "I could manage half an hour ..."

"Sorry, Miss," Clit sounded genuinely regretful. "We're rushed off our feet 
wiv new orders for export. Whole bunch of girls in the States have 
discovered ScatBras. Any uvver time, I'd have sucked your clitty and 
fingered your twat 'til you creamed yourself, you know that!"

I knew that. I missed Clit's forthright language almost as much as her 
prehensile tongue. With a sigh, I loaded everything into my blouse again 
and examined myself in the mirror. The ends stuck out like halved rugby 
balls on the ends of my breasts. It did look a bit strange, I had to admit. At 
least, I didn't have to look at them. "Well, thanks for everything. I'll bring 
my other bras down for alteration tomorrow, if that's all right?"

Their voices were raised in furious argument again as soon as I left. In 
another ten minutes, they would be lapping contentedly at each other's 
love fountains. The rejection had left me feeling horny as a goat, though, 
and I seriously began to doubt if I could make it back to the bedroom 
before I wasted a perfectly good orgasm out here in the open air. Jeremy? 
It was worth a try.

"Twice in a week, Shan? I can fit you in if you'll settle for a quickie." He 
showed me through into the bedroom, shoo-ing a flock of scantily-clad 
Second Form girls out of the door. I hated to think what he had been doing 
with those.

"They are the Junior Handicrafts class," he explained.

"Why are they dressed like that?" The girls had been wearing nothing but 
panties, pulled right up into the cracks of their bottoms, and what 
appeared to be stockings with suspenders and high heels. "We do try to 
discourage the younger girls from wearing heels, Jeremy."

"I know, but they insisted, and I hadn't the heart to refuse once they 
started whining the way they do, rubbing themselves against me and 
pawing at my bare chest with their little chewed fingernails."

"No, I don't suppose you did. Handicrafts? What are they doing in here 
with you, anyway?"

"I'm not sure. It was Moggie's idea, so I just went along with it. They're 
pretty, though, and fun to have around the place. And they're not so 
smelly as cats." He found an abandoned pair of frilly knickers and sniffed 
them automatically. "Well, perhaps they are, come to think of it."

I had my blouse off by this time. He was staring at my modified bra.

"Bloody hell, Shan. What have you got on?"

"Do you like? It was necessary, my areolae have got so big and sticky-out."

"Say that again, Shan!"

What, sticky-out?"

"No, that other word!"

Unfortunately, by the time I had said 'areolae' thirty times, Jeremy came 
liberally and ceased to be of any further service to me. "You bastard!" I 
said, fairly good-naturedly, and gave him a wet kiss.

"I won't wash it for a week now you've kissed me there, Shan."

"It tastes as though you haven't washed it for a month already."

"Sorry." He looked ashamed. "It's that Junior Handicrafts class!"

"Jeremy, you haven't been shagging them!"

"Only a little bit, Shan, honest. I didn't put it in. And it only went a *teeny* 
way in, anyway - just the very end - and I didn't *move* at all!"

"You are a disgrace to St Cat's!" I stormed, and flounced out. The Junior 
Handicrafts class watched me go with open curiosity. Some of them were 
filling out nicely. I was halfway across the quad when I remembered to go 
back for my blouse. I will not attempt to describe what was going on when 
I blundered into the shed. You'd never believe the sheer depravity these 
girls were capable of getting up to in less than two minutes.

Or getting down to.


**********

Feeling somewhat jaded, I wandered off in search of something hot and 
comforting. How about Martin and Bob? It had been pretty quiet on the 
film scene for a while. The Sixth Form common room looked like one of 
those abandoned film stages. Lamps, reflectors, snakes of cable, but not a 
living soul. No Martin, no Bob. In the next room, I found Pubella sorting out 
some dusty power cables. She wore a pair of thick working gloves, which 
made her school uniform look somehow frivolous.

Her nose and the extremities of her breasts were smeared with dust. She 
looked up at me with thinly-veiled hatred. "If you're looking for Bob, 
they've taken a week off," she said aggressively.

"Oh. Why should I be looking for Bob?"

"You're fucking him, aren't you?"

"Only once, Pubella!" I felt aggrieved; wrongly accused.

"Once!"

"One night. Fourteen times." I may have allowed a little exaggeration to 
creep in, but I felt that Pubella needed to be taught a lesson. It seemed to 
work. She spoke with a new respect.

"Was that fourteen times for him, or you, or both?" Her eyes pleaded with 
me.

"About three for him, actually. Twenty-five for me. An average of 
fourteen." Not far out, in fact.

"Oh, Miss!" Tears sprang to Pubella's eyes and trickled down through the 
dust on her cheeks to splash on the dusty floor like little balls of mercury. 
"Teach me how to have one, please!"

"Have one what? An orgasm?"

She bit her lip. "Yes. I know we've done Wanking in class, but ... I've 
always faked it!"

"You've never ...?" It is a question best left unspoken. She shook her head. 
Well, you know how these things happen. Sort of on the spur of the 
moment, really. Not that it was over in a short time. Pubella took quite a 
lot of hard work before she came - most satisfactorily - with a great deal 
of screaming and fuss. She sat up afterwards, her eyes shining.

"Do you have a cigarette, Miss?"

"I don't use them, Pubella."

"No, nor do I, but it seemed right, somehow. How was it for you, Miss?" I 
reminded her that all I had to show for it was a very smelly hand or two. 
She looked suitably shame-faced.

"Is that the best way to do it, Miss? Do I always have to do exactly what 
you did to me?"

"You will find that the finger up the bum is optional, Pubella, but I can 
recommend it as a great help in stubborn cases."

"Golly! I think I'll do it every time. Thank you, Miss. I'll always remember 
what I've learned today." She gave me a warm, soft kiss on my cheek. Her 
mouth was open at the time. Wow! I shuddered. She kissed me again, 
intrigued by the apparent cause and effect. The third time, she hit the 
jackpot.

Within a few minutes, I had recovered almost fully. "Don't worry, Pubella," 
I panted, hoarsely. "Keep practising, and you'll find *you* can come 
without touching yourself as well."

I made a note to speak sharply to Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen. Imagine, a 
girl in the Sixth Form at St Catherine's High School for Girls, faking her 
orgasms for three years, and getting away with it! If word got out about 
this, we would be the laughing stock of the entire education industry.





Chapter 36:- Frustration


Walking slightly uncomfortably, I had reached the foot of the stairs when I 
heard Moggie's voice.

"Ah, Chauntaille! Everybody's been looking everywhere for you. Where 
have you been?"

"Getting my bra altered, Miss." I showed her, with a twirl which like most 
of my twirls, ended in near disaster. Moggie caught me just in time, 
although she was just too late to prevent a collision. The major victim, a 
Third Form girl, was slammed against a nearby wall. A number of her 
friends gathered round her inert body.

"It looks nice, Shan. I love those end bits." She ran a hand across one of my 
still tender areolae and I was forced to cling to her, passionately, but with 
due care. "How long did it take them?" she asked through a mouthful of my 
lips and tongue. "Ouch, Shan, darling! Don't squeeze Moggie's nipples, 
sweetheart, there's a love!"

"Sorry, Miss! Half an hour. But I've had a couple of bits of sex since then."

"Have you?" She brightened visibly. "Goody-goody! Come on, then, whom 
have you had?"

In the background, the group of Third Formers carefully lifted their 
classmate's body on to a stretcher and bore it away. The double doors 
closed behind them with an air of doom.

"Well, Clit and Flaps were too busy with export orders and couldn't fit me 
in. So I tried Jeremy, but he had the Junior Handicrafts class with him. I 
was getting my gear off and he came. Just like that, spontaneously."

"Yes. You do have that effect on people, Shan."

"Anyway, I kissed him bye-bye, and he tasted of Junior girl."

"Oh, yuck!"

"So I stormed out. And when I went back in because I'd forgotten to get 
dressed, you could hardly see Jeremy under this huge pile of Junior 
Handicrafts girls."

"Lovely girls, but terribly oversexed. Carry on."

"Is that why you sent them to him? He didn't seem to know why he had 
them or what he was supposed to be doing with them all. And why are 
they dressed like that? Completely topless. Frilly lacy knickers 
disappearing half-way up their plump little arses. Stockings and suspender 
belts. Absurdly high heels."

"They're not allowed heels at their age," Moggie was suitably indignant. 
"They'll damage their feet. I'd better get over there and take a look at 
them."

"Knock before you go in. They may be doing something rude."

Moggie raised her eyebrows until they practically disappeared over the 
top of her head. "In that case, I'll definitely go and see them. What else did 
you get up to?"

"I went to find the film crew. I was gagging for it by then."

"Poor Shan. And they weren't there, of course. You should have come to see 
me. Where's your Corinne?"

"Working, unfortunately. Anyway, the best bit, Pubella was in the film 
studio, tidying up, and she was very rude to me about Bob, and I told her 
we'd only done it once." Moggies eyebrows disappeared again. "One night 
anyway. And Bob had come three times to my twenty-five. That was when 
Pubella told me she'd never had an orgasm!"

"Pubella Stravinsky? Never ...? But ... the girl's nearly seventeen! What 
about her Wanking classes?"

"Faked. The lot!"

"That does it. I'm expelling her straight away. It's a disgrace. St Cat's will 
be a laughing stock."

"It would be, Miss, if the press got hold of a story like that. 'Sacked 
Schoolgirl Faked It'."

"I suppose so, yes. But it's ... it's simply not good enough. Seventeen and 
never had an orgasm? It's sick! Disgusting!"

"She has now, Miss," I said simply. "I brought her off. Two up the front, one 
up the back. Sucking the nipples at the same time, of course. It took quite 
some time." I showed Moggie my fingers as pathological evidence.

She took a pace back, indicating that she had no real desire to sniff my 
fingers as well as look at them. "Well, it should have worked, that little lot. 
Well done, Chauntaille! I trust she showed her appreciation in the usual 
way?"

"Yes, Miss," I said, although I had no clear idea what the usual way was. 
My usual way of showing appreciation might well not be anyone else's. In 
fact, it almost certainly isn't.

"Where are you going now, then? Corinne won't be back yet. You'll be at a 
loose end for a while?"

"I suppose so, yes."

"Come on up to the office. We'll have a little meeting. I want to see if your 
pussy is quite as huge as I remembered. And those nipples, too. Do they 
look as fascinating without the bra as with it?"

"I don't know, I've never seen them yet. I can't see them, right down there. 
Everybody says what they look like but nobody really describes them to 
me."

"Darling! Come on." Flecks of spit and dribble were beginning to run down 
her chin and cheeks. She looked like a warning poster of a dog with rabies. 
"Let me describe them to you. Just for an hour. When your Corinne gets 
back, you'll be all ready for her, won't you."

"I'm ready for her now. I've been ready for her all afternoon." I could feel 
my voice beginning to sound hysterical. The group of Third Formers with 
the stretcher case came back through the double doors and headed off in 
the opposite direction. Obviously, they had tried to take the unconscious 
girl to the Nursing Sister outside surgery hours. If they had only asked me, 
I could have told them. Sister entertains medical sales representatives 
during the afternoons. Much of her work involves the routine destruction 
testing of contraceptive devices.

Moggie walked behind me. Actually, she ran behind me, such was our 
urgency. By the time we arrived at the Headmistress's office, we were 
going flat out, and my breasts were flying in all directions. We burst 
through Miss Labia's office, where the secretary was reading a lurid 
gentlemen's magazine with her feet up on the desk. I averted my gaze to 
avoid staring at her wetly glistening eponymous parts.

With Moggie in hot and moist pursuit, we flung our clothes off in the 
middle of the floor and we were already locked in feverish embrace when 
we realised we were not entirely alone. Another couple were coupling on 
top of the leather-topped desk.

"Megan!" cried Moggie in disbelief.

"Corinne!" I screamed.

If she answered, I never heard it. I didn't wait for a reply. I stumbled out 
through the door and down the stairs. Girls scattered from my path as I 
lumbered on, blinded by tears of frustration and despair. I didn't stop until 
I arrived in the bedroom, where I threw myself down on the bed, fully 
prepared for a comprehensive cry.

Unfortunately, the bed was already occupied.

A grunt came from the occupant.

"What the fuck ...?"

"Cee? What are you doing in here?"

"Oof. Gerroff. You're heavy, Shan. Get off."

I got off.

"What are you doing in here?"

"I live here. It's my room, remember? We sleep here. We cohabit. This is 
our bed. You squashed me," she complained. "Why?"

"I didn't expect to find you in here. I just saw you over in Moggie's office. 
You were ... well, no, you probably weren't."

"Wasn't what, Shan? Here, have you been crying again?"

I scrubbed at my eyes with both hands. "No!"

"What about?" She watched me for a while, then held her arms out. The 
duvet slipped down her body, revealing several square feet of her breasts. 
Perhaps a third of them. "Come on!" It certainly looked inviting between 
those things. It was, I discovered a few seconds later. It was warm and 
yielding, soft and velvety. And it smelled of Cee; slightly sleepy, warm and 
musky. "There!" She rocked me gently. "I don't know what the trouble is 
this time, but it's all better now, isn't it."

"Yes," I mumbled into her cleavage. And it was. All better. Then a thought 
came to me. If it wasn't Corinne in Moggie's office, who was it? It was 
certainly a long-haired girl with huge breasts. Smegs had been on top, and 
I had recognised her well-used rear end. True, her rear end was concealing 
the girl's face to a certain extent, but the breasts, squishing out from 
beneath Smegs's stomach, were Corinne's without a doubt. But they 
weren't, were they! She couldn't have got back here before I did and 
tucked herself up in bed ready for me to arrive and land on top of her.

It was round about then that I realised I was still stark naked, having left 
all my clothes scattered around Moggie's office. Wrong, actually. I still had 
my shoes and socks on. It seemed a good moment to think back over my 
brief journey from Moggie's to here and wonder if my nakedness might 
have caused undue embarrassment to anyone. On reflection, I decided 
probably not.

"What are you doing here at this time of day, anyway?" I said.

"I thought you'd never ask! I finished my class and looked around for you, 
but nobody knew where you were. So I came back here. My back ached 
and my feet were killing me. So I thought I'd just maybe warm up the bed, 
but I fell asleep. Then you landed on top of me. You spoiled a perfectly 
good dream. You were in it, too."

"I was? What were we doing?"

"Shan't tell you! Well, maybe, just a little bit. We were ..." she whispered 
something hot and noisy in my ear. It tickled.

"Corinne!" I was genuinely shocked. "I didn't even think you knew that 
word." I made a mental note to ask somebody else what it meant.

"I don't know what it means," she admitted. "I thought you might."

"As if you think I'd tell you. It's too disgusting. Cee!"

"Yes?" She stroked my hair.

"Undress me, please. Take my shoes and socks off." I lay back on the bed 
and waited.

"Shannie, you certainly know how to smooth-talk a girl, don't you?"





Part XIII





Chapter 37:- Something Nasty In The Shower


There was a gentle knock on the door and a voice whispered, "Shan?"

"Smegs?" Funny how her voice could still do things to my backbone. I 
slipped out of the bed, where Corinne was sprawled, sound asleep and 
exhausted, and opened the door.

"I brought your clothes." She handed me a bundle. "Look, earlier, in 
Moggie's office, were you very upset?"

I felt my face going scarlet. "I thought it was ... well, you know!"

"I know." Smegs touched the back of my hand lightly. "Every long-haired 
girl you see is her, now, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," I said, miserably, and placed my bundled clothes on the 
dressing table. Half of them fell off but I was too tired and top heavy to 
bother picking them up.

Surprisingly, Smegs did it for me, placing my skirt on the little pile and my 
bra on top of that.

"Nice job they made of the bra cups. Are they very sore, your nipples?"

All I could do was nod. Smegs almost put her hand out to touch one of 
them, but changed her mind. "Mandy was very upset when you rushed out 
of the office."

"Mandy?"

"The long-haired girl. You shouted 'Corinne' and rushed out, and I jumped 
up to stop you ..."

"You did?"

"Of course. Anyway, that was when Mandy got upset. Moggie dragged me 
back, or I'd have chased you and brought you back."

"You would?"

"Yes." She still had my knickers in her hand after picking them up off the 
floor. She said nothing, but just held them up and looked at me. I nodded, 
and she tucked them away somewhere. "You're all right for clean ones?"

"Corinne fetches them for me. She's most fastidious about that sort of 
thing."

"I noticed. It's a pity she wears silk ones. I'm sure we could get a 
tremendous price for hers, they're so subtle. But I can't get silk 
replacements at a reasonable price. Too risky."

"Pity. How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"How did you know Corinne's knickers are so subtle?"

"I don't. I was just guessing. I'm right though?"

"Of course you are." I clutched her arm as she turned to go, and she looked 
down at my hand on her sleeve. For a moment, she touched it, stopping me 
from taking it away, then she turned to go.

"Get back into bed, love. You're shivering with the cold."

It wasn't just the cold.


**********

Smegs sat with us at breakfast, too.

"Amelia's new wheelbarrow just arrived. Jeremy's assembling it."

"That was quick."

"I warned them we were going to need quite a large quantity, so they said 
they would get a special stock in, especially in the larger sizes. Jeremy's 
putting the padding in for her. Same as the Countess's but not velvet. 
Something washable, in case she starts giving milk."

"MILK?"

"No, nothing yet. Just a precaution."

I noticed Corinne looking down at her own breasts. That look of 
apprehension I'd noticed before. Was it imagination, or was she a bit fuller 
this morning? Surely, we couldn't have been zapped by the First Form 
Sexual Chemistry Group, could we? We hadn't been anywhere near the 
boob juice, even the new cream. Not that close, anyway.

There was the erogenous zone stuff, but that seemed either to be wearing 
off with time, or coming and going. Last night, when Corinne had finally 
consented to suck my toes - she'd made me wash between them first - 
there had hardly been any erogenous effect from the sole of my more 
sensitive foot.

So, my thoughts returned to the question of Corinne's still enlarging bosom. 
And my nipples. Even with the rugby ball bra, which had attracted 
considerable attention when I had swayed into the restaurant that 
morning, my nipples were really tingling this morning. It was as bad as 
when they had first grown. Worse, if anything. Every little touch set them 
off. It was a sick-making sort of feeling. What was causing it?


**********

"She doesn't look very happy, Pan. Do you think she's pining for you?"

Pansy blushed and punched her cousin on the arm, setting several dozen 
pounds of breast wobbling precariously inside her blouse. "That's not 
funny, Suze. I wish you wouldn't keep on about it."

Suzanne suddenly felt sorry for Pansy. "Sorry, cuz! She doesn't look happy, 
though, does she? Do you think she needs another go with the Feel-Good 
Shampoo?"

"You could have left the original bottle of Feel-Good in her room. You didn't 
need to swap bottles. That's what is making her unhappy. It must be like 
withdrawal symptoms."

"We couldn't leave it in there. It might have gone off. It's better kept in the 
fridge. I'll do another swap for a day, make her all happy again. Maybe 
she'll even speak to you, then. Like that time in her bedroom, remember?"

Pansy smiled. She remembered, and felt moist, just thinking about it. 
"Swap it today, Suze!"

"Just for you, cousin. I'll do it now!"

Arm in arm, the two of them left the restaurant.


**********

"Do you think Suzanne's wearing a bra?" I asked Corinne.

"There's a lot of movement in there. Maybe she's overflowing!"

"Bloody hell. And she's all natural. She could be our first unenhanced 
wheelbarrow girl!"

"A worrying thought. Did you see Pansy looking at me again?"

"She's got it bad, Cee! Perhaps you'd better speak to her next time you get 
a chance."

Corinne went pale. "I wouldn't know what to say."

"Anything! Just her name. Say hello. She'll be in ecstasy for hours, days, 
afterwards."

"Mmmm. Maybe, if that's all she needs. What's the time? I want to wash 
my hair before the first class. Coming back to help me? It's so long, it 
needs extra attention ..."

I was already on my feet, dragging Corinne out of her chair. "Excuse us, 
Smegs!" With indecent haste, we made off. I happened to glance back at 
Smegs, expecting to see her looking after us, but she had already got up 
from the table and was talking to a giggling bunch of Sixth Formers. They 
all turned and looked at Corinne and me as we went out the door. I could 
hear them all laughing, probably at something Smegs had said.

We had plenty of time for a shower together. This time, we weren't 
interrupted. It was a heavenly experience, with Corinne's inventive fingers 
everywhere. Literally everywhere. She had me gasping within seconds. I 
was reminded of Pubella the day before. Corinne achieved the same result 
on me, using the same methods, in five seconds. I must have been ready. 
Corinne needs a bit longer than me as a rule, but after ten minutes beneath 
the water spray, she was panting and ready as well.

We stepped out of the shower and I finished her off with a rough towel. 
"Let's go back to the room," she murmured. "Oooops, nearly forgot the 
shampoo!"

I don't know how it happened, probably just Corinne's centre of gravity 
being slightly higher and further forward than she was used to, but she 
grabbed for the shampoo bottle and saw it slip from the shelf and skitter 
away across the wet floor of the shower tray. A glob of green fluid oozed 
out of the neck. "Shit!" She bent to pick it up, and lost control of herself 
again. I managed to catch her before she fell down or bumped herself 
painfully. It was while I was still holding her - a couple of minutes later, in 
case she overbalanced again - that we noticed a sharp smell of burning.

"What's that?" I spun round, but couldn't see anything past my own 
breasts and Corinne's.

"Aaaargh! Look!" Corinne's scream chilled my blood. Then I saw it. The 
shampoo bottle had spilled out a glob of green fluid. It was that which had 
apparently burst into flames! We put it out fairly quickly, and hosed it 
away down the drainhole, but Corinne was quivering with shock. I had to 
hold her to steady her nerves, and mine.

"What made it do that? I've never seen anything like that before!" She 
looked up into my face with a troubled expression.

"I think I have," I said. "The trouble is not that whatever was in that bottle 
caught fire on its own. The trouble is that we've both just showered in it!"

"You think it was something nasty?"

"I think somebody has been interfering with your shampoo. And I'm afraid 
my D-cup nipples are about to get even bigger and more uncomfortable, 
and your ninety-one inches may well become eight feet."

"Oh, Shan! No!"

"Oh, Cee! Yes!"


**********

"How long before it happens?" Corinne carefully inserted the towel into her 
cleavage. You could lose a towel in there. It could be gone for weeks, and 
nobody would ever think of looking for it there.

"Sorry?" I returned to the present. "How long? A few days. Maybe less, 
maybe a bit more. The only thing is that it's happened now, all we can do 
is wait for the results to show."

"How did I get mixed up in this crazy business?" She towelled her hair 
furiously. "I must have been fucking mad to come and work here."

"We'll pull through somehow, Cee." I felt desperate. She couldn't go away 
and leave me? Not now? "Please don't go away!"

But of course, she couldn't hear me with the hair dryer switched on. She 
could see my forlorn expression and my lips moving. She just made a sort 
of kissing motion with her mouth and it was time to cue Mr Spleen. While 
she could still do that, there was hope for us.


**********

Amelia was pleased with her new wheelbarrow. The miserable moo, it was 
about time she was pleased with something.

"I've always wanted a barrow like this," she told me confidentially, her 
eyes shining. She looked quite pretty when her eyes shone like that.

"You have?" It was a surprise to me.

"Ever since I was ten, and I got these gigantic boobs, I wanted my own 
barrow. I used to load my breasts into Daddy's and wheel them round the 
farmyard, but this is the first one I've had that was all mine! Look at the 
lining ...!"

I stopped her. "Wait a minute. You always wanted one like this? But you 
only grew to this size a week ago!"

"No, Miss! You must be thinking of some other girl. I was this big when I 
came to St Cat's. Remember how I had to be excused nearly everything 
because of them. You must remember. How often do you get a First Former 
with a 160-inch bust?"

"Not very often, Amelia," I said, humouring her. I wondered if there was a 
good psychiatrist in the Yellow Pages. Either for Amelia or for me. "It's a 
lovely barrow. Such pretty lining. Polyester, is it?"

"Yes, Miss. It's softer than it looks, and when the milk comes in, it's fully 
washable. I'd take the lining out and show you, but you know what a 
hassle it is taking these things out and loading them back each time. Just 
think, five years I've been carrying these monsters around St Cat's, with 
wheelbarrows banned, but now, Amelia Murgatroyd has her own wheels. 
Or at least, her own wheel."

No doubt about it. The girl was barking mad. She was honestly convinced 
she'd *always* had boobs this big. As if there weren't enough problems 
round here, we now had a Fifth Form girl with three foot diameter tits; the 
combined resources of Clit, Flaps and the whole ScatBra Project Design 
Team were working flat out to design her a bra that worked ... and she was 
firmly convinced she'd always been this ridiculous size. After all the 
trouble I had been to, just making sure her breasts were equal in size. How 
inconsiderate could some girls get?

"You don't have a bra on, do you, Amelia?"

"Of course not! Who ever heard of a bra this size? That's why I needed a 
barrow so much more than that cow Shona, yet she got hers first for some 
reason!"

"Of course she got hers first ..." I started to shout at her, but she looked 
blandly at me and carried on with her closely reasoned argument.

"I suppose it was because I have such a superb muscular structure, I can 
carry them unsupported, whereas that Shona is a great elephant of a girl 
without a muscle in her flabby body. Look at me!" She flexed a bicep. It 
looked just like any other girl's bicep to me: soft, rounded and totally 
inappropriate for supporting a pair of gigantic breasts.

I looked round frantically for help. Where was Corinne when I needed her. 
Or Smegs, or Moggie? 

"Are you looking for somebody, Miss?" Two small, innocent voices at my 
elbow.

"Suzanne. Pansy. I was looking for Miss Thunderbolt, or Miss Mountains. Or 
Miss Meadowlark." I noticed Pansy's face turn instantly red, like a 
chameleon placed on a guardsman's tunic. "Hang on, though." A thought 
occurred to me. "Suze! You remember last week, when you rubbed the bust 
enhancement cream on Amelia's breasts for me?"

Suzanne looked at me as if I had taken leave of my senses.

I felt rising panic. "Pansy? You remember?"

She slowly shook her head.

"You rubbed the cream on her left breast to make it grow to the same size 
as the right one. Then you put too much on the right one and it grew even 
more gigantic, so you had to put some more on the left? And the left one 
got too big, and you needed some more on the right again?"

Suzanne laughed nervously. "You say the daftest things, Miss! You almost 
had me thinking you were serious for a minute. But Amelia's always been 
this big, ever since we came to St Cat's! When Shona got her barrow, we 
wondered why Amelia hadn't been the first to get one."

I backed away a few paces. The two cousins smiled encouragingly at me 
the way you do at someone with short-term memory difficulties. "I'll go 
and find Miss Meadowlark or Miss Thunderbolt after all, thanks, girls. No, 
don't bother looking for them. I'll find them. It's all right!"

I turned and lumbered away as fast as I could.





Chapter 38:- Insufficient Memory


"Come on, Shona!" Suzanne grumbled. "You are the worst wheelbarrow 
driver in the whole world."

"You want to try pushing this lot around everywhere you go. It's not as 
easy as it looks. I hope you get this big one day," Shona muttered darkly. 
"Oof!" she grunted. The barrow wheel came to a full stop against the 
doorstep and Shona's body shot forward between the handles. Cushioned 
by her mighty breasts, she floundered on her belly on top of the barrow, 
with her feet momentarily off the ground. The other girls watched her 
with interest.

"You can't do anything without showing off, can you?" Pansy complained in 
a cross voice.

Shona recovered her composure if not her dignity. "It's your fault, all this," 
she panted, backing up a few steps and taking another run at the doorstep. 
This time, the wheel went bumping up the step and Shona followed the 
vehicle through the door at a brisk, bouncing trot. "That fuckin' hurts," she 
groaned. "If you'd let me get on with the breast reducer, I could have 
made these things smaller by now."

"Our fault?" Suzanne was indignant. "We've never stopped you making 
breast reducer if you wanted to. You certainly need it."

Shona stared at her. "That's rich, coming from you, the ace breast enlarger 
in the whole of St Cat's!"

"What are you going on about?" Suzanne was genuinely mystified.

They lurched around the corner to the door of the First Form Sexual 
Chemistry Laboratory, and the two cousins watched critically as the 
wheelbarrow struck the wall and came to an abrupt halt. "Give me a hand 
with these things," Shona pleaded.

Suzanne and Pansy each took a breast in both hands and lifted them out of 
the barrow. They lowered them carefully to rest against Shona's legs. 
"Come on, Sho," said Pansy, "take your time." The three girls moved slowly 
into the lab and approached their work bench.

Shona slumped into a chair with a heavy grunt and took her notebook out 
of the desk. "Look," she said, pointing to a page in the book, a maze of 
scribbles and crossings out. "I reckon all you've got to do is put more of 
that in, and take some of that out."

The others gathered round, interested but puzzled. "What's it do, Sho?" 
Pansy screwed up her face and studied the page of incomprehensible 
gibberish.

"I can't believe ...! You wrote all this yourselves. All I did was copy up your 
notes. It's your breast enlarging cream. You used it a couple of weeks ago 
on Amelia, from the Fifths. It certainly worked on her!"

"Amelia?" Pansy shook her head with chilling certainty. "No, not her. 
Amelia has always been as big as that. She's been growing steadily since 
we've known her, but she was always huge. I think Suze was jealous of 
her."

"Me? Jealous?" Suzanne laughed. "Why should I be jealous. I've got more 
than enough tit to be proud of!"

Shona looked from one to the other. The cousins' faces were open, innocent. 
As far as Shona could tell, they had no knowledge of bust enlargement and 
no memory of having enlarged Amelia. This was too weird for her to 
handle. "So you won't help me with this reducing cream then?"

"We'll help you mix the chemicals and stuff, if that's what you want. But 
we can't tell you anything else. We don't know anything, do we, Pan?" 
Pansy didn't.

"Why don't you look in your own notebooks," said Shona. "It will all be in 
there. Pan! Your book is always lovely and neat and methodical. Get yours 
out and let's see it."

Pansy took her book out of the desk. "Is this mine?" she said, thumbing 
through the neatly handwritten pages. "I don't know any of this. It must 
be someone else's book."

"It's yours. Look, there's your name on the front."

"Pansy Woods," read Pansy. "That's me," she said in tones of wonder.

"Course it's you! Now read it, and see what it says."

Pansy read it, while Suzanne peered over her shoulder, her tongue sticking 
out as she read it, too. It took some time.

"Wow!" said Pansy, at last.

"What do you mean, wow?"

"I mean, somebody has really worked this out. Imagine going to all this 
trouble, getting another book the same as mine, then copying my 
handwriting and writing all this stuff in here. All just to make me think 
I've been working on bust enlarging cream! Why would anyone go to all 
that trouble?"

"Exactly! Why would they? They didn't! You've got ambrosia, that's what 
you've got!"

"I haven't got anything of the sort," objected Pansy indignantly. "What's 
ambrosia, anyway?"

"They make rice pudding," said Suzanne, puzzled. "It comes in cans. We 
haven't got any of that, Sho!"

"Maybe it's something else, then." Shona sounded less confident. "What 
word sounds like ambrosia?"

"Custard!" Pansy announced in triumph. "They make custard, too."

"It's when you forget everything? It's like a disease."

"We haven't got a disease, Sho! We're perfectly healthy."

Shona had to agree. Suzanne was the healthiest-looking girl Shona had 
ever seen. 

Anastasia came into the lab, carrying her books in front of her chest.

"What is that word called where you forget everything, Staze?"

"I can't remember," she said.

"Sounds like ambrosia."

"I dunno. Anaesthesia?"

"Could be. That's a disease. You've got anaesthesia, Pan!"

"Fuck off," Pansy said, insecurely. "I'm going to ask Miss when she comes 
in. She'll know."


**********

"Sit down, girls! Carry on with your projects, please."

The class sat down with a great scraping of seats.

"Miss?"

"Yes, Pansy?"

Pansy came up to the front of the class. "Shona says I've got anaesthesia," 
she whispered urgently. "Is it catching? Will the others get it, too?"

There was an other-worldy quality to this conversation. "Do you mean you 
keep falling asleep, Pansy?"

Pansy considered this aspect of her condition. "Yes, Miss. Every night."

"You've probably got it, then. What are the other symptoms?"

"Someone stole my notebook and copied a load of stuff into it that I don't 
remember. About a breast enlarging cream." She began giggling at the very 
idea of such a thing. Her breasts bobbled up and down alarmingly. "I mean, 
why?"

I could see her point, as it were.

"What project were you working on, Pan?" I asked, on an impulse.

"I can't remember, Miss. Somebody stole all my notes. Suzanne can't 
remember either. It's only Sho who says we were trying to make stuff to 
make breasts get bigger. And Sho was trying to make them get smaller. 
She even said we'd made Amelia grow, Miss. That's stupid. Why would we 
want to make Amelia get bigger than she is? She uses a wheelbarrow 
already!"

"I see what you mean. Look, just for today, go and help Shona with her 
reducing cream or whatever it's called. You and Suze. I'll see if I can find 
out anything about anaesthesia for you. Okay?"

She didn't seem too satisfied, but she went back to the group, and I saw 
them whispering among themselves for a while. Eventually, Anastasia 
came up to me.

"Is it amnesia, Miss?"

"Probably. What about it?"

"I think that's what they've got. I told them they'd got anaesthesia, 'cos 
that used to be my nickname at my last school. I think it was because I 
was so boring, Miss."

"Anastasia," I yawned, "please get on with it."

"They don't remember anything about Amelia at all. They think she was 
always like that. Nothing about her tits being two different sizes or 
anything. They've forgotten it all. It's spooky, Miss!"

"It's certainly that. I'll tell you what you'd better do. Go back and work 
with your group, and make a note of everything Suze and Pan seem to 
have forgotten. There must be a reason for it. Perhaps it's an effect of one 
of the chemicals. I'll try and find out all I can. Okay?"

"Yes, Miss!"

"You're looking enormous this morning, Anastasia!"

"I grew again, Miss," she said mournfully, while blushing quite prettily. "I 
must have sniffed too hard at the mixture again."

"Never mind, love, when the reduction cream is working properly, you can 
have first try."

"Oh, I don't know, Miss. I'm getting to quite like them!" She gave a cautious 
twirl, and the effect was certainly startling, until her glasses fell off. I 
watched her fumbling around on the desk for a while, then put her out of 
her misery.

"Here they are, Anastasia. Off you go and carry on with your work. Don't 
forget, write it all down."


**********

"I'm worried, Cee! Those girls can't remember a thing. It's Suze and Pansy, 
and Amelia herself. They can't remember rubbing cream on her breasts, 
nor about them being different sizes, nothing!"

"It's got to be the cream affecting them in some way. Did they all touch it?"

"Dunno. They did it next door. And it's no good asking them, they've 
forgotten!"

"It could be the smell it gives off, or something. I'm guessing. We'd have to 
try it on somebody."

I raised an eyebrow. Was this really Corinne, suggesting we carried out 
tests on live subjects? She was falling into St Cat's ways of thinking.

"I suppose so. But how? If we rub it on a girl and she gets huge, we'll think 
she was always like that, and so will she!"

We sat and thought about the problem for a while. Eventually, Corinne had 
an idea.

"How about if we get someone else to rub the cream on to a girl? We can 
see if they remember afterwards. All we need is a couple of subjects. We'll 
need a relatively flat-chested girl so things don't get out of hand. Miss 
Thunderbolt will go absolutely spare if we need another wheelbarrow so 
soon after Amelia. She'll blame me as Support and Mobility Mistress." 

"So, one flat-chested girl. Plus one girl to rub it in. I can find those. 
Anything else?"

Corinne considered carefully. "We ought to have a control experiment. We 
need another girl to rub with plain cream, instead of breast reducing 
cream. That's the reducing cream that enlarges them, of course."

I wrote down 'one plain cream'.

"... and another girl to rub plain cream on the girl we use for the reducing 
cream ..."

I wrote 'another girl to rub pl crm on girl used for reduc crm (enl)'.

"... and another girl to rub plain cream on both girls. That ought to do it."

Once more I obediently wrote down Corinne's instructions.

"Right," she said, "just to avoid arousing suspicion, *you* had better order 
the reducing cream from the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group, and I will 
ask for the plain cream."

I gave up. Corinne's soaring intellect had left me grovelling far behind her. 
"I love you, Cee," I said helplessly.

"Not here, Shannie!" She shook me off with some difficulty. "The driver 
keeps watching us in his mirror."

But once the bus had stopped in the High Street, I managed to drag Corinne 
away round a corner and we snogged freely for a while until one of those 
trucks came along that washed the streets with revolving brushes and 
sprays of water.

"Golly, Cee, I'm absolutely soaked!"

"Come on, let's walk it off, Shan."

We set off to do our shopping. I suppose having a combined bust 
measurement of over eighteen feet does count as one of the advantages. 
We negotiated excellent discounts on several items and piled back on to 
the St Cat's bus with an air of a job well done.

I tried to get to grips with Corinne yet again.

"Wait 'til we get home, darling!" she purred, and somehow I realised she 
meant it.


**********

"This cream feels really nice, Suze!" Pansy gave the mixture a final stir and 
began spooning it into a tub. "It's ever so smooth."

"But what's it for, Pan?"

"It says, 'Breast Reducing Cream' on the label. You want to try some? Yours 
are a bit big."

"You can keep that stuff. Mine are just fine the way they are, thank you. 
What's in the other pot?"

"Plain cream. Miss Meadowlark asked for some. Dunno why."

"You sure it was for Miss Meadowlark? Maybe you got it the wrong way 
round and it was Miss Gruntworthy who really wanted plain cream and 
Miss Meadowlark wanted the reducer?"

"I know it was Miss Meadowlark." Pansy blushed painfully. "She 
remembered my name."

"Wheeee! Pansy's still in love with Miss Meadowlark!"

"Oh, stop it, Suze! It's not funny."

"Look, Pan. You might have got it wrong. You know what you're like when 
Miss Meadowlark is around. What if you did make a mistake and it was 
Miss Gruntworthy who wanted the reducer and Miss Meadowlark who 
wanted the plain cream? It stands to reason, doesn't it? Which one's got 
bigger boobs?"

"Miss Gruntworthy," said Pansy, sounding uneasy.

"Well, she'd want the reducer, wouldn't she?"

Pansy nodded.

"It's all right, Pan. You do things like that when you're in love. I won't tell 
anybody. It was a good thing I was here to spot your mistake. Just think if 
we hadn't noticed!"

"All right," Pansy conceded. Despite having equal intelligence and brain-
power to her cousin, she was sometimes overawed by Suzanne's three 
months and sixteen jiggling inches advantage. "I'll label them and take 
them up to their rooms."

"Room, you mean. Don't forget, they sleep together in the same bed!"

"I hadn't forgotten, thank you!"

Suzanne wobbled away to the restaurant, leaving Pansy with the two tubs 
of cream. She thought about it for a while, then peeled the backing off a 
new label.





Chapter 39:- A Controlled Experiment


"When are the girls arriving, Cee? Have I got time to go to the loo first?"

"I think that would be wise, Shan. Who knows what might happen if you 
got excited? They'll be along in half an hour."

"I'll make it a quickie, then!"

I do my best thinking while seated. Certainly, Corinne's plan sounded 
workable. We had four girls coming. Two of them were the victims, the 
other two were the cream rubbers. Each victim would be rubbed by the 
two girls. One victim would be rubbed with the reducing cream by one and 
with plain cream by the other. The second victim would be rubbed with 
two helpings of plain cream. Simple. So why did I have a nagging doubt at 
the back of my mind?

All nagging doubts were driven away when I discovered there was no 
toilet tissue in the loo. Why can't this school do anything right? Dark 
thoughts crossed my mind: that it was an economy drive by Moggie; that it 
was a crafty scheme by Smegs to boost her Type 'C' stains count. That was 
probably it, I decided, waddling with difficulty into the next cubicle and 
making do with the two sheets that were left in there. By the time I 
presented myself back in the bedroom, half an hour had gone by.

"Bloody hell, Shan, I nearly sent a search party with grappling irons and 
breathing apparatus. What kept you?"

"No sodding toilet paper," I grated harshly.

"You should plan ahead, darling. Take your own. Now, the disco lad brought 
this video camera, do you know how it works?"

"Sort of, yes."

"Good! Go and set it up next door, pointing at the bed. We'll record 
everything, then if they get amnesia, we'll be able to play it back to them 
afterwards. Go on, then!"

I hurried off to do Corinne's bidding. She was so masterful. I wondered 
what it would be like to have her spank me. I made a mental note to ask 
her later, and instantly converted my knickers to Type 'A' and 'C'. By the 
time I had finished, and had a clear picture in the viewfinder, I could hear 
voices back in the other room.

"These two are the girls who are going to be rubbed with the special 
cream, Shan," said Corinne. "The special skin cream," she said with careful 
emphasis. "We'll just refer to them as Miss A and Miss B."

I studied the two victims. They seemed perfectly relaxed about it all. 
Corinne had found two Fourth Form girls who were matched fairly 
adequately in build and development. Personally, I would have preferred 
girls with slightly larger breasts, to make it more obvious if the reducer 
was working, but they both had nice little C cups.

"And these two, we will refer to them as Miss X and Miss Y, will do the 
rubbing. Now then, if you'd like to go into the next room. Miss A and Miss 
B, get undressed."

"Undressed, Miss? To put on face cream?"

"It's not going on your faces. It's for your breasts. Right, you two." Corinne 
handed two small pots to each of the two rubbing girls. "Here you are. You 
will both rub some of the cream on each girl, okay? Your little pots are 
labelled A and B. You rub them on Miss A and Miss B respectively. Any 
questions?"

"Yes, Miss," asked one of the rubbing girls. "Do we rub both breasts, or just 
one?"

"Both. Be sure to rub it well in!"

"Ooooh, I will, Miss. Thank you!" She was going to enjoy herself, anyway.

They all trooped off into my old room.

"Is the camera running, Shan?"

"Yes, Cee."

"Good. Well done. I suppose we just have to wait, now."

"Cee! I was wondering ..."

"What's the matter, Shan?" She took my hand. "You look worried about 
something. What's up?"

"I wondered if, one day, when we had a spare hour or two .. you could ... 
erm ..." I couldn't say it.

"Come on, Shan. Think about it. Really, your concentration is getting quite 
terrible, lately. I think you need a bit of discipline. Strict discipline."

"Yes, Cee. I think I do. Really strict!"

"Gosh, that sounds terrible, doesn't it? Almost as if you were going to get a 
good spanking!"

"Yes!" I croaked. "Yes, please!"

"You funny girl, Shan. Come here!"

I snuggled closer to her, smelling her warm fragrance, tasting her soft lips.

There was a polite cough. "Excuse me, Miss?"

It was the rubbing girl, the knowing-looking one who so obviously enjoyed 
her work.

Corinne and I broke our clinch and blinked up at the girl from where we 
lay on the bed.

"Yes, what is it," asked Corinne, dreamily.

"We've both rubbed each of the girls, Miss, and there's plenty of the cream 
left over. Is there anything else you wanted rubbed, Miss?"

"As long as you rubbed plenty in to each girl?"

"Oooh, yes, Miss. Loads of it! I really enjoyed it, Miss. That's why I 
wondered if there was anything else I could rub for you."

This girl was dangerously aroused. A cold shower would be the best 
treatment. Corinne licked her lips and looked at the girl. The girl looked at 
Corinne and licked her lips. Two pairs of nipples sprang into erection. Mine 
made it three. Corinne glanced at me and grinned. She leaned over and 
whispered damply in my ear.

"She's the plain cream girl! What do you think? She's got nice big hands!"

"Sure, why not!"

"What's your name, girl?" asked Corinne. 

"Amy," said the girl, with a secret little smile.

"Go and tell the others they can go, Amy. We'll see them in the morning. 
Then bring your cream pots in here. And if you're very good, we'll rub 
some of the cream into your little nubbins, too!"

"Ooooh, Miss!" Amy shot out of the room. In a short while, she was back, 
tearing off her blouse.

"Don't you wear a bra, Amy?" I asked sternly.

"No, Miss. I only got these this week, Miss."

'These', as she called them, were two delightful little halved apple-sized 
breasts, topped with nipples of what seemed to me to be quite an 
unnecessarily large size. The breasts were almost entirely covered with 
puffy areolae.

"Will you be undressing, too, Miss," Amy asked me. I looked up with some 
surprise to see that Corinne was already stripped off, ready to be anointed. 
I joined them, and Amy's eyes, already goggling as she stared openly at 
Corinne's magnificence, nearly popped out of her head as my ScatBra 
joined Corinne's on the floor.

I had to wait for my rubbing, as Amy was giving her fullest attention to 
Corinne. My lover lay back, her mouth open, panting as Amy did her 
expert best. When my turn came around, the first jar was empty, and Amy 
had to use the last of her second jar on me. It was cool and soothing, 
especially on the still swollen nipples and areolae.

"Are these sore, Miss? They're enormously swollen!"

"They are, Amy, but that lovely cool cream and your beautifully long 
fingers make them feel much better. Thank you!"

"Thank YOU, Miss!"

And when it was over, Corinne and I both took a handful of cream from 
the large tub and rubbed it freely into Amy's little apples, one apple each. 
The girl moaned in a totally abandoned manner. This was going to be one 
hot piece of tail in a few years' time. Or even a few hours.

"Wow!" commented Corinne, when Amy had gone, after thanking us most 
kindly with big wet kisses. "Is she a hot one or what?"

"Funny," I said. "I don't remember seeing her before." 

"That's how it is when they suddenly start growing up. They're so 
anonymous, then they just blossom!"

"Well, *she* certainly has. She's got me so hot and horny, Cee!"

"Well, what's keeping you, then. Get the rest of your gear off and stop 
wasting time."

"Mmmm, that's nice!"

"You know, I was tempted to let her rub me in a few other places, not just 
my tits!"

"Cee! You are a schoolteacher. Remember your position!"

She sighed. "I suppose so. And I was only *thinking* about it. But hey, 
Shannie! Talking about positions...!"


**********

There was a pounding on the door.

"What's the time?" I couldn't see the clock.

"Five past five!"

In the morning?"

"Who is it?" Corinne called.

"It's Amy! Miss? Let me in!"

"Amy who? Do you know what the time is?"

There was a long silence before Amy spoke again, slightly breathless. "It's 
five past five, Miss. I had to go and look at the clock, Miss."

"Oh, my God," I muttered. 

"It seems to be one of the girls. Let her in, Shan, there's a love."

"ME?"

I opened the door and Amy slipped inside. I could hear her shivering in 
the darkness. I seemed to spend half my life letting girls into staff 
bedrooms at dead of night. The next thing, she'd be telling me that she'd 
suddenly developed enormous breasts!

The girl whispered to me. "My boobs hurt, Miss. Here ..."

She grabbed my hand and placed it on her chest. Golly, I thought.

"What do you think it might be, Miss?"

What sort of a question was that? "They're very nice, Amy," I said. I 
imagined her blushing prettily there in the dark.

"No, silly! What I meant was, why do they hurt, Miss? They're all sore. 
What was in that cream?"

"Nothing," I said. "It was plain cream in your pots. You were the control. 
The other girl had ... something else in hers."

"Shan? What's going on over there. Come back to bed."

"It's Amy, Cee! She's bigger!"

"She's what? OUCH!"

"I'm what?" echoed Amy, faintly.

"What's the matter, Cee?"

"I sat up and bumped my boobs," said Corinne. "It hurt ... Oh, my 
Godfathers! I'm fed up with these fucking things!" She fumbled around by 
the bed, and the light came on. Amy stood blinking in front of me, her 
breasts thrusting confidently out through a T-shirt. Her nipples were still 
bigger than I liked to see on a young girl. Then I did a double-take and 
spun round to see what was troubling Corinne.

"Ooooow, that hurt!"

I looked at her and my jaw slowly opened. Now, after a pair of breasts 
reaches a certain size, it's not so easy to notice if they get a little bigger. I 
mean, looking at Amy's, it was easy to tell that she wasn't half-apple size 
any more. She was more like half-pineapples. With difficulty, I took my 
hand off her breast and Amy gave a disappointed little pout. The point I'm 
trying to make is that if Corinne was to add the same amount of flesh as 
Amy, it just would not show.

But it did. Corinne had thrown back the duvet and revealed herself in all 
her glorious nakedness. She was noticeably bigger. Make that Noticeably 
Bigger. Or even NOTICEABLY BIGGER!

"They hurt something awful! They do get tender every month, but not 
usually until another week. They've always been like this, for years. I wish 
I'd had them reduced when Mum first took me to the doctor."

"Sorry? Cee, what are you talking about? You've grown. You're huge!"

"I've always been huge, Shan. Is this supposed to be a joke of some sort? 
It's too early in the morning for jokes!"

This was a distinctly worrying development, in every sense of the word. 
There was obviously something wrong with the cream. Not only had it 
been incorrectly labelled, it also worked in reverse. The breast reducer had 
turned out to be more effective at enlargement than the old boob juice.

But far, far worse, Corinne had no memory of the experiment, nor of the 
aftermath with Amy.

I considered the problem out loud. "We've got to think about this. Which 
cream is which. And Amy had better know ..."

"I'd better know what?"

"Why your breasts have grown so big. One of the pots of cream was 
supposed to be a new breast reducer. Some of our girls have become a 
little too big lately, and wheelbarrows are so expensive." I was careful to 
give Amy the party line on this. "Anyway, we were going to give the 
reducer to one of the girls, A or B. The other one would be getting plain 
cream, nothing else. There was something else, which is going to be a little 
hard to explain." It certainly was!

Amy laughed nervously. "But my breasts *haven't* grown big, Miss. 
They've always been this size, since I was nine. It's just that they hurt, 
that's why I came to see you."

"They hurt because they're nearly bursting your T-shirt, Amy. It fitted 
when you put it on, but you must be six inches bigger now."

Amy looked at me as if I was going crazy. She shook her head. Corinne was 
no help. "Who is this girl, anyway? I've never seen her before in my life. Is 
she a student here?"

"Eeek!" Two amnesiacs in the same bedroom. Let me out! "At least, mine 
haven't grown," I said.

"Pity, really, Shan," said Corinne soothingly. "You've always wanted to have 
breasts as big as mine. Never mind, love. Perhaps there's some cream you 
can rub into them and little Shannie's will get to be as big as little Cee's!"

"But, Cee ...!"

She was bigger than me now, for sure. It would be most pleasant to get the 
tape measure out and see just how big she was, but Corinne would calmly 
say she'd always been the same size. But she knew who I was. How? 
Obviously, she remembered everything else, but nothing about the 
circumstances surrounding her latest enlargement.

I could feel rising panic. It was getting to be an increasingly regular 
occurrence these days. I sat on the bed and dissolved into tears. 
Fortunately, help and sympathy was at hand. Corinne and Amy hugged 
and soothed me, stroking my hair, my thighs, my face, my breasts. If it 
hadn't been quite such a stressful occasion, I might have enjoyed it more. 
As it was, I was being touched all over by two experts. One of them was a 
trainee expert, but she was undoubtedly a fast learner.

It hadn't finished. Fingers began fondling me in ever more personal 
regions. I made a mental note to have a word with Amy's Wanking 
teacher, Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, and have the girl reassessed for 
moving into a higher class. "Whooowhooowhooo!" I said, loudly, making 
rather a mess of the sheets.

Amy looked suitably impressed. She had obviously not been at such close 
quarters to a squirter before. Or a gusher, which was what I felt like.

"Bloody hell, Miss," she told me. "You've pissed yourself! I haven't done 
that since I was five."

Never mind talking to Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, I thought. Amy is 
probably in the correct class, after all.

"I'd better be getting back to the dorm, Miss," said Amy. "My breasts feel 
much better now."

"Your what?"

"My breasts. I've decided to call them that from now on. Boobs sounds so 
babyish, doesn't it!"

No wonder they didn't hurt any more. Her T-shirt had split from top to 
bottom, and those half-pineapples had emerged proudly into the open air.

"I'll see you later, then, Miss," she said, in a voice reeking of promise.

"Erm ... yes, I suppose so, Amy!"

"Who was that girl, Shan?" asked Corinne, once Amy had bounced 
deliciously out of the room and closed the door with an over-the-shoulder 
wink and a blown kiss. "She seems terribly over-familiar toward the 
teaching staff. I think she needs much stricter discipline."

That reminded me of the night before, when Corinne had still been 
Corinne. And I burst into tears yet again.





Part XIV





Chapter 40:- Reviving Old Memories


The effect was devastating. Moggie had called a meeting about something 
or other vital. I hurried ahead to tell the headmistress that Corinne would 
be a little delayed. Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen and Smegs were there 
before me. They all looked up quizzically as I came in.

"Is Corinne on her way?" Moggie asked. "We have lots to discuss."

"Just coming. She's having a bit of difficulty getting her clothes on this 
morning."

I lied. In fact, Corinne was having difficulty getting *my* clothes on this 
morning. Her own were useless. She didn't even acknowledge them as hers. 
How big she was I didn't dare even to guess. My latest ScatBra creaked 
under the strain but the specially extended ends to the cups were just 
about big enough to accept the tips of her breasts. The appearance, though, 
when the whole thing had finished adjusting itself, was bizarre. And apart 
from those fantastically shaped cups, there was surplus Corinne poking out 
of every conceivable open space: over the top of the bra, out at the sides, 
underneath.

All she could find big enough to cover it was a giant T-shirt with the word 
'LooK' on the front. By the time I had watched as she loaded herself into 
that, I was ready to prostrate myself before her. If it hadn't been for 
Moggie's meeting, I think I would have done. As it was, I had to be content 
with a swift lick of honey-flavoured Cee-juice and a promise.

"These have shrunk," she complained. "They've always fitted up to now. 
It's your fault, Shan, you should have read the washing instructions."

It was no use arguing with her. We sat in Moggie's office, awaiting her 
arrival. There was a scream from outside the door, presumably as Miss 
Labia got her first look at the newly-expanded Miss Meadowlark, then I 
braced myself for the reaction as the door opened and Corinne came in 
sideways, one breast at a time. The reaction could be described as 
gratifying.

Three voices said in unison, " FUCKING HELL!"

On the other hand, it might have been three-part harmony, you know what 
my ear is like.

"Sorry I'm late, Miss, did Shan explain how she'd shrunk all my clothes?"

"Whaaa...?" Moggie's eyes opened even wider as she read the legend on 
Corinne's chest. "Oh, yes, she did. Most careless of her."

Corinne sat down in the vacant chair between Smegs and me. The space 
wasn't nearly wide enough, and I felt the drum-tight bra material rasp 
down the right side of my breast as she took her seat. Smegs obviously felt 
the same thing. I heard her early-morning grunt with a strange feeling of 
tenderness.

"I do feel a bit full this morning," said Corinne, "but it could be these bra 
cups. They've gone right out of shape." They certainly had. That was my 
best bra, too. It would never be the same again.

"Wheelbarrows!" Moggie announced with another disbelieving glance at 
Corinne as she wedged herself further down into her seat. I allowed her 
another inch of width and she slid down a bit further with a sigh. Her 
bottom must have finally made contact with the chair. Inevitable, I 
suppose, when your breasts weigh more than the rest of you. It's not a 
problem I have, not now my waist and hips are becoming more matronly: 
more suited to childbearing, God forbid.

"We now have two official wheelbarrow girls in the school, plus one 
owner-driver. I am thinking ahead. It is clear that wheelbarrows are going 
to become a more frequent sight in the corridors of St Cat's. In fact, 
Corinne, you are probably going to need one yourself before long."

"Who, me, Miss? I haven't needed one for ten years, why should I start 
needing one now?"

"You what?" Moggie was speechless.

"A wheelbarrow. I've had at least a 100-inch bust since I was nine, so you 
could say I'm used to it by now."

"Corinne, are you sure you are feeling all right?" Moggie asked her 
solicitously. "Would you like to lie down for a while?"

"But I've just got up! I feel fine ... apart from this ... fucking bra! Ouch!" She 
fixed me with a baleful glare.

Smegs stood up. It was probably that or be rolled bodily off her chair as 
Corinne's bosom expanded with her breathing. "Corinne," she said gently. 
"I'm not sure what's been happening to you, but are you honestly telling us 
that you think you've *always* been as big as this?"

"Not always, silly! I wasn't *born* with them. They arrived when I was 
nine. They've grown a bit since then, of course, but not much. I quite like 
them," she admitted, with a proud little look down at herself.

We all looked at each other. "What's the matter with you all?" Corinne 
demanded. "Have you all gone crazy or something?"

Moggie gathered up her papers suddenly. She handed a wheelbarrow sales 
brochure to Corinne. "Here! Would you like to take this to all the girls over 
a certain size. Don't promise them anything, of course, but ask them for 
their preferences, colour, thickness of hand-grips, lining material? You 
know the sort of thing. Let me have some sort of idea about the number of 
barrows we need to order. Can do? By close of play tonight, okay?"

Corinne took the glossy leaflet and got up from her chair. I boosted her 
from beneath, feeling a surge of naked lust as my hand contacted her taut 
bottom. Corinne thanked me politely.

"You three, if you could spare one more moment?" Moggie waved the rest 
of us to stay. Corinne waddled out, and we watched her squeeze herself 
through the doorway.

"Wow!"

"Bloody hell!"

"Duw!"

"Well, Chauntaille? When did this happen?"

"Last night, Miss. There seems to have been a sinister development with 
the new breast reduction cream."

"Yes, you could say that," said Moggie. "Are there any more cases of 
selective amnesia in the school?" 
 
"Yes, Miss. Amelia Murgatroyd thinks she was always big enough for a 
wheelbarrow, and wonders why she didn't get one years ago. Suzanne and 
Pansy rubbed the cream on her breasts and agree with her completely. 
They say she's always been as big as that."

Moggie let out her breath. "Never a dull moment with the girls of the First 
Form Sexual Chemistry Group! What are we going to do this time?"

"It may not be the end of the world," I said. "I'm sure the kids are on the 
verge of a breakthrough with the reducing cream. The amnesia thing is a 
little worrying ..."

"A little? A *little* worrying?"

"... but once we isolate the substance that's causing it, we can sort that out. 
The girls are convinced it's all to do with impurities in those cheap 
chemicals you ordered last year."

"Oh, yes, it would be *my* fault, of course!" She pouted unhappily, like a 
schoolgirl. "I can't imagine why the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group 
should be working on a breast reducing cream at all, anyway! It's so 
unhealthy, it's just plain sick!"

"It was Shona, Miss. She is *extremely* big. And every time she crashes 
her wheelbarrow it really hurts her breasts so much."

"She's not even 180 inches, for Chrissakes!" stormed Moggie. "Young 
Cassandra's much bigger than that, AND she's giving milk, AND she's no age 
at all!"

"Cassie's strong enough not to need a barrow. She was brought up on a 
farm, heaving straw bales and delivering calves. And Shona's lactating as 
well, don't forget ..."

"Nothing. Pints, not gallons, like Cassandra. She's just a great big baby, and 
allowing her to work on a dangerous substance like breast reducer: 
honestly, Shan, I'm disappointed in you!"

I hung my head in shame. Hot tears tricked down my cheeks and soaked 
into my cleavage. I felt gentle hands on my shoulders, and a comforting 
arm went around me in a warm hug.

"Leave her alone, Moggie," said Smegs. "She's had enough. Imagine what 
it's like seeing the breasts of the woman you love suddenly grow to double 
their size overnight. And amnesia on top of all that! Shan's doing very well 
not to crack up."

I buried my head between Smegs's breasts. Well, I got my nose between 
them, at least. Corinne had spoiled me recently. Smegs's hug tightened. The 
silly girl had been missing me. She was wearing a skirt that buttoned down 
the side, I discovered, and Smegs had to raise her bottom from the chair 
for only a split second while I lowered it and her panties down to her 
knees. I engulfed myself in her familiar and friendly ambiance, and with a 
low moan, she held my head so I couldn't escape.

Vaguely, the voices of Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen and Moggie came to 
me, chatting about something inconsequential, as Smegs came with a 
triumphal, aching rush and I buried my lips against her yielding mouth. 
We broke away after a while, panting and spitting out fine blonde hairs.

"Well, that was quite like old times," said Moggie. 

I may have blushed prettily. Even Smegs was blushing prettily. We kissed 
again, more softly this time, our fingertips brushing lightly over all those 
little details of each other's bodies we had almost forgotten, but not quite.

"Look," said Moggie. "I think we can adjourn this meeting. You two had 
better nip off to your room and have a cuddle. You've got things to talk 
about, I'm sure."

But I heard no more. When I did chance to look up, half an hour later, 
Moggie and Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen had gone, leaving Smegs and me 
rolling on the floor in a kaleidoscopic variety of positions.


**********

"It's funny, Suze," said Pansy. "I keep thinking I remember something 
about us inventing some stuff to make breasts get *bigger*! Can you 
imagine?"

"I had that feeling, too! Spooky! Why would anyone want to make their 
breasts bigger? Not that we'd need it, anyway!"

"Another thing." Pansy lowered her voice and looked around. They were 
out in the open, walking to the lab for a lesson. "Last night, in bed, I felt a 
sort of Uncontrollable Horniness."

"An Uncontrollable Horniness? You, as well? Was yours with capital letters, 
too?"

"I think so. But I wanted to ... to sit on somebody's face." She went scarlet. 
"But worse. I wanted to do things to my thingie!"

"Oh, Pan! That's gross! Did you wash your hands before breakfast?"

"I only said I wanted to do things to my thingie, I didn't say I did them. 
Well, not much, anyway. I only touched it a bit. It made me jump, like 
when their nose touches you ... there!"

Suzanne looked at her cousin with raw envy. She wanted nothing more 
than to go back to bed and feel the same as Pansy said she had felt. "That's 
dirty," she said, predictably.

"I couldn't help it. I didn't mean to dream about sex. But I'm going to 
tonight, again, if I can! I'm going to rub my titties and suck my nipples and 
touch my thing, before I go to sleep."

"You'll never get to sleep if you do all that," said Suzanne with the absolute 
certainty of a girl who had tried it many a time.

"I'm still going to try," said Pansy, dreamily. "I shall think of Miss 
Meadowlark!"

"You don't need to, Pan. There she is! Fucking hell!"

"Wha...?"

"Look at her! She's fucking gigantic!"

The two girls gaped as Corinne wobbled massively toward them.

"Hi, Suzanne. Hi, Pansy!"

"Hi, Miss Meadowlark," said Suzanne. "You look *huge* this morning!" 
Pansy nudged her, blushing desperately.

Miss Meadowlark refused to blush prettily. She tugged at her bra straps 
with an expression of annoyance. "What on earth are you talking about? 
You're late for your class. Get in there at once!"

The girls watched her walk away, most of her bosom clearly visible from 
the rear.

"What's eating her, Pan?"

Pansy was crying quietly, mopping at her eyes with her hankie. "She was 
horrible to us, Suze. And all you said was that she looked huge. She *is* 
huge! She's grown. What's the matter with her?"

"I don't know," mused Suzanne. "But I had another of those funny feelings 
just then. You know, like when you've been here before? Yet this time it 
was ever so strong. It felt as if it wasn't about Miss Meadowlark, either, it 
was about Amelia for some reason."

"Amelia?"

"There, it just happened again! It felt ... oh I dunno, Pan. It was there, then 
it went away again." She put an arm around her cousin. "C'mon. Let's go in 
and see how Shona's getting on with her reducing cream!"





Chapter 41:- Brave New Scheme


Smegs and I sat up in the middle of Moggie's carpet and looked at each 
other with deep affection.

"I missed you!" I said.

"And I missed you. But it's all right now. Thanks, Shan!"

"Oh, silly. You don't have to thank me! And we can do this any time."

"What about Corinne?"

"What about her? I think she's going off me. We don't talk any more. And 
now, she's grown and she can't remember anything about it. It's too 
spooky to get my head round. I'm scared to talk to her about it. She seems 
so *sure* she's always been like that."

Smegs stroked my neck, where the hair is all fluffy. "What about Amelia. 
And the kids? They got it, too?"

"The kids who rubbed the cream on to Amelia, yes. Only one of them 
rubbed the cream on, but they were both there. It must give off fumes or 
something when it's rubbed in. It doesn't seem to have affected Shona and 
Anastasia. They helped with the mixing, but they weren't there with 
Amelia when the others rubbed the cream on to her."

"It's a problem, Shan. All these chemicals seem to be overlapping,  
somehow. It's not just love, fuck and tits any more. There's this cream, and 
the reducer they're trying to make ..."

"And another, the erogenous stuff."

"You never mentioned that. Sounds fascinating."

"It's got a bit of built-in amnesia to it as well, but I tried it out on Corinne, 
and it definitely worked. Wow! It certainly did! But I know I got some on 
myself. The trouble is, with the amnesia, I can't remember where."

Smegs ran her fingers across the sole of my bare foot. I flung myself on 
her. It was twenty minutes before we disengaged, wetly.

"Well, that stuff certainly seems to work," said Smegs in admiration. "I only 
just touched your foot and you broke all records, even for you! Make a 
note of that one, Shan. Sole of foot."

"Thanks, Smegs. My voice was still quavery. There may be others, so be 
warned!"

"I think I may already have found some of them, darling," she smiled. 
"Later, perhaps?"

I nuzzled her gently and leaned against her lithe body. "Later, Megan!"


**********

"That feeling came again, Pan!"

"So did mine."

"Yours? You mean the feeling that you've been here before?"

"Yes. But it's more than that. I'm getting the Uncontrollable Horniness 
again! I suddenly wanted to rub my thing against Darren."

Shona and Anastasia gasped at her. "Pansy!" Shona hissed. "Quiet! If he 
hears you ..."

Pansy seemed not to hear them. "Not against his nose though. Not any 
more. I want to rub my thing against his willie!"

"Pan!" Suzanne looked disgustedly at her cousin, but there was a strange 
look in her eyes. Her nipples had become unusually prominent. She ran her 
tongue around her lips and looked over at Darren with new interest. He 
was oblivious of their interest, lost in his musical world. "I dunno, though, 
Pan. Maybe it's not a bad idea."

"I thought of it first," said Pansy. She began to fumble with the belt of her 
skirt, her eyes alight with passion and brimming with lust.

"Pansy! NO!" Shona grabbed her arm, but she was too late to prevent Pansy 
dropping her skirt and stepping out of it. She stood there with her bosom 
heaving, her thighs and calves shapely and womanish even in their short 
white socks and clumpy flat shoes. The others looked at her with interest. 
Pansy had the air of a volcano about to do what volcanoes did best.

Suzanne tried to restrain her as well. "You'd better not, Pan, you'll get us 
thrown out."

"I don't care. I want to fuck him!"

Even Suzanne blushed at that. It sounded so *rude* somehow. It was 
almost as if she felt the word 'fuck' would never be quite the same again.

"Come back, Pan, you can't go up there like that. You've got no skirt on!"

"I know, I took it off, remember? Let me go!" She shook herself free from 
Suzanne's grip. The rest of the class was paying attention now, aware of 
the disturbance. Shona and Anastasia grabbed Pansy by the arms and 
hauled her back to the bench, and Suzanne pushed her down on to a stool. 
"Let me go. I want him," Pansy whimpered.

"No, Pansy! Sit still and don't move." Suzanne stood over her cousin, 
determination on her face. 

But suddenly Pansy's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't 
know why, but I had this urge. It's gone now. Can I have my skirt, please?" 
Anastasia dusted it off and handed it to her. The other girls in the class 
returned to their work. The antics of the cousins' group were always 
entertaining, but this time nothing more seemed to be happening. A mere 
half a striptease and a bit of a struggle hardly rated a raised eyebrow.

"Do you feel all right now?" Suzanne whispered to Pansy.

She nodded. "It was just like last night. I got this funny feeling about us 
having this stuff to make boobies grow, then I felt all strange and wanted 
to fuck Darren. But it's gone now. What's going on, Suze?"

"You *did* have stuff that made boobies grow, Pan," said Shona with 
exasperation. "We keep trying to tell you. It made *me* grow. So it 
certainly works!"

"No, how could we do that to you, Sho?" Suzanne said, but even as she said 
it, there was a haunted look on her face.

"Shona's right," said Anastasia. "I know I'm not as big as you two, but I 
used to be flat-chested. Then we all made this stuff. Shona grew, and so 
did I. And we all made it into a cream and you rubbed it on Amelia, and 
she grew as well."

Suzanne and Pansy buried their faces in their hands, unable to grasp this 
absurd notion.

"But that stuff you're mixing now," Suzanne pointed to the simmering flask, 
"that makes boobs smaller?" Shona said it did. "Who's it for?"

"For me," said Shona, simply. "I want to get rid of that wheelbarrow and be 
a normal girl with an ordinary 100-inch bust again! When it's ready, I 
want you to rub my boobs with it."

"There won't be enough there," Pansy assured her.

"That's just a sample. We're going to try it out on somebody else first. 
Somebody with tits, of course. Once it works, we'll make enough for me, 
then when I'm small again, we'll make enough for everybody ..."

"Everybody?" Suzanne backed away. "Not me!"

"Everybody who wants it. It won't be compulsory. Even though you are a 
bit big for eleven, Suze. So you will help us, won't you?"

"Yeah. We'll help, won't we, Pan."


**********

"Miss? Oh thank God I've found you!" She had been running. Her hair was a 
mess and her tie was askew. Her blouse had come untucked from her skirt.

"What's the matter, Anastasia? Bloody hell, girl, you're even bigger!"

"It's Suzanne and Pansy, Miss," she said, blushing prettily and panting at 
the same time. "They're behaving a bit strange."

"You mean they can't remember about Amelia's breasts getting bigger?"

"A bit of that. But Pansy suddenly ... well, she got all horny and she was 
going to fuck Darren!"

"She WAS?"

"She took her skirt off. We all had to drag her back, Miss. Then she got 
better all of a sudden. Shona and me, we tried to explain, and I thought we 
were getting through once, but then they sort of forgot everything again."

"That's excellent, Anastasia. Good work. Can you carry on doing what 
you're doing. Watch them if they seem to start remembering again. And if 
they seem to get suddenly horny, try and stop them doing anything too 
terrible. If you can't stop them, come and find me. I'll come straight away."

"Yes, Miss, thanks, Miss!"


**********

I sought out Smegs for help.

"What can you remember about the Uncontrollable Horniness antidote?" I 
asked her. We were walking across what used to be the sports field. Apart 
from the pantie-soilery with its chimney belching yellowish-grey smoke, it 
was quite like the good old days in the Fourth Form at St Cat's. 

"I've got the formula in my books somewhere. It was straightforward stuff. 
Have you got the latest formulae for the breast enlargement cream and the 
reducer?"

"I can get them. Anastasia's in on this with me. With us. She said it looked 
as though Pansy and maybe Suzanne were just starting to remember 
occasional things. And then Pansy got horny and tried to fuck Darren."

"Poor Darren. What a problem for him, having a horny ten-year-old with a 
bod like Pansy coming on to him. Literally coming on to him! Has he 
recovered?"

"She didn't make it. Apparently she got her skirt off but the others 
dragged her back. Then it stopped, just like that, Anastasia said."

"Okay, Shan. You get the formulae and we'll go over them together. We'll 
find out what's causing the Uncontrollable Horniness, and we can control 
that. And the amnesia will be all part of the same thing. It will be all 
right." She stopped for a moment and looked at me. Hesitantly, she asked, 
"where are you ... are you still sleeping with Corinne?"

I nodded, and swallowed a lump in my throat. "I still love her, Smegs, even 
though she's spooky."

Smegs fingers brushed my hand. It was like an electric shock. "It's all right, 
Shan. We'll get her back for you."

"Oh, Megan!" I buried my face in her chest and she held me gently. 
Tenderly, she placed her arm round my back and we walked slowly back 
toward the school. Our hips bumped gently against each other.

"Your bottom is getting obscenely huge, Chauntaille," she said in a shocked 
voice.

"Yes, Megan," I murmured, looking up helplessly into her eyes. "Thirty-
nine inches!"

"In your dreams, Shan, thirty-nine. You're forty if you're an inch." She 
shook her head sadly at me. Then she placed a soft kiss on my lips, and 
loped off to her next class.


**********

"Shona! I've got it!"

"Ouch, Suze. Don't punch like that. Look, you've made me spill this stuff on 
Anastasia. Wipe it off, quick, before it soaks into your blouse." She dabbed 
at the stain with a wad of paper towel. "Gosh! Is that all you in there, 
Staze? Bloody hell! Those are some tits!"

"Yes, it's all me," said Anastasia, blushing prettily. The bright green stain 
was centrally placed between her thrusting orbs. "What was this stuff, 
Sho?"

"Reducer. You'll start shrinking soon, Staze!" Shona tossed the tissue in the 
waste bin. "You've got what, Suze?"

"Do what?"

"You said you'd got it."

"That was *years* ago. I've forgotten what it was all about now." Shona 
punched her arm to help her remember. "All right, then. I've found the 
answer."

"What was the question, Suze?"

"You know you're spending all this time making breast reducer? You're 
going down the wrong track. Look!" Suzanne pulled a newspaper out of her 
bag. "I don't read this thing, but I saw this ad." She spread the paper flat 
and jabbed at the page with a stubby finger.

"I can't see, Suze, your tit's in the way." Suzanne took a couple of paces 
back. "That's better! What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Cooking fat," shouted Suzanne. "Super Lite for Super Pastry!"

Shona studied the advertisement. She read it through twice. "What's this 
got to do with boobs, Suze?"

"It's fat, but it's not as heavy as ordinary fat. Your boobs are FAT, Shona!"

"I know they're fucking fat, that's why I want to make them smaller."

"No, it's fat they're made of. But if we could change that fat into lightweight 
fat, your boobs would be ... well, lighter, wouldn't they? And you wouldn't 
need a wheelbarrow."

"They'd still be just as big, though."

"That's true. But if they only weighed half as much. Sho, it would be great 
wouldn't it. You'd be able to run."

Shona went pale. "Run?" 

"Well, nearly! Walk, anyway."

"What are you going to do, Suze?"

"I'm going to find our how to make Super Lite Boobs. You can forget boob 
reducing cream, it will never work, Sho!"


**********

"Miss!"

"Come in, Anastasia, it's open."

The bedroom door burst open and Anastasia came in. She stood there, her 
glasses glinting as she studied me. I realised that it would be a fairly 
uncommon experience for her, confronting a stark naked school teacher in 
her bedroom. I decided to ease the girl's embarrassment by covering up a 
few acres of breast. The easiest way was to put my bra on, but that meant 
lowering the great huge things into the cups. Anastasia watched, 
speechless and spellbound. At last I stood up straight and looked at her.

"What's the matter, Anastasia?"

Too late, I realised that by hoisting my breasts up to above the level of my 
crotch I had revealed that other area of my anatomy which tends to attract 
comment. Anastasia was far too polite to say anything, but her jaw had 
dropped. I turned away and bent to pick up my panties off the bed. They 
slipped to the floor. I bent further, again realising too late that Anastasia 
was getting an eyeful of the nether regions of Chauntaille Gruntworthy. Oh, 
what the hell, let her look. See one, you've seen them all. More or less. I 
stepped into my knickers and hauled them up until they would go no 
further. At last, I could face Anastasia with a clear mind.

"Sorry about that. Now, how can I help?"

"Look," she said simply, pointing to her blouse.

"Mmm, that's a nasty stain. Put it in to soak in cold water before it goes 
into the laundry. Funny colour. What is it?"

"Boob reducer," squeaked Anastasia, very close to tears. "It worked, Miss!"

"It what? You mean ...? Take your blouse off!"

Dumbly, Anastasia undid her buttons and shrugged out of her blouse. Even 
though I had never seen her breasts uncovered before, I could see she was 
right, the breast reducer had worked.

"Why me, Miss? I was just getting to like mine, now they've gone!"

"Not gone, Anastasia, they're just smaller. They're still very nice breasts."

She blushed, but not very prettily, I noticed. "Yes, Miss," she mumbled 
unhappily.

"Now, darling, come here." I held her against me. She seemed to quiver like 
a scared cat. "Is there any more of that stuff left?"

"No, Miss", she sniffed.

"Does Shona know you've shr ... got smaller?"

"Not yet, Miss, but she will."

"Not necessarily. You could stuff your bra for a day or so. Then we can 
grow you bigger again. Have you got a note of the formula?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Right, give me five minutes, then we'll go down to the lab and mix a big 
tub of that stuff, okay? We won't involve Shona and the others for a while, 
or they'll all want some. First of all, I need some for Miss Meadowlark. 
She's more urgent than anyone, understand, Anastasia?"

The girl nodded, and sniffed again. "Get dressed," I said. "The lab will be 
empty for the next two hours."





Chapter 42:- Kissing Cousins


"Where have you been, Staze, we've been looking for you everywhere." 
Suzanne was squatting on her bed in a bulging T-shirt. Pansy perched on 
the edge of the bed, looking anxious about something.

"I've been helping Miss Gruntworthy do something in the lab," said 
Anastasia, unable to lie convincingly to her friends.

"Teacher's pet, then, are you," Suzanne jibed at her, while Pansy blushed, 
feeling insecure about such matters.

"No, she just wanted a hand with something, and she asked me. Probably 
'cos I'm the most reliable. What did *you* want me for, anyway?"

"'Cos you're the most like a boy!"

Anastasia huddled her shoulders and folded her arms across her recently 
diminished bosom. Even with her bra stuffed, she felt conspicuously flat-
chested around these two busty cousins.

"What did you want somebody like a boy for?"

"For practice. Pansy wants to practise on a boy before she gets another 
dose of the Uncontrollable Horniness. Well, she can't do that, so we thought 
we'd use you. We'll both have a go, while you're in the mood."

"Who says I'm in the mood?" demanded Anastasia.

"'Course you're in the mood," said Suzanne, generously. "And you won't get 
pregnant, we're only using you to get off. Snogging," she explained at 
Anastasia's look of horror and incomprehension.

"Snogging? With you two?" Anastasia had gone pale. She took her glasses 
off and wiped the lenses, then they fell from her trembling fingers to the 
floor. "What if I don't fancy you?"

"That's all right, Staze," said Suzanne kindly. "We don't fancy you either. 
That's why we're not going to fuck you. That means sitting on your face."

"Oh, good," said Anastasia, who had an idea that fucking was perhaps not 
quite what Suzanne imagined, but didn't feel sufficiently confident to 
argue with her. "When are you going to do this, then, and where?"

"Now! And here!"

"But the other girls ... they'll all see us."

Suzanne looked about the dorm as if seeing the rest of the girls for the first 
time. "So?" she said. "What's wrong with that? We're only kissing."

"Nothing, I suppose." Anastasia looked resigned. "What do I have to do?"

Suzanne swung herself off the bed. "Good old Staze, I always said you 
would, but Pansy said you'd be too scared. You can do it with Pan first." 
She dragged her cousin roughly into position facing Anastasia and pushed 
and pulled the two girls until they were about a foot apart. Anastasia 
looked down at the gap between them, most of it filled with Pansy's 
exuberant bosom.

"Right, Staze. You're the boy. Snog Pan."

"I don't know how," whined Anastasia, unhappily.

"Oh, come on. Grab her and pull her towards you. Give her a big hug."

Anastasia did more or less as she was told. Pansy thrust her away.

"She's too close," she complained. "She's shoving her naughty bits at me. If 
she was a boy, I'd be able to feel her willie!"

"'Course you would," agreed Suzanne. "That's the whole idea."

"It's horrible."

"But Anastasia hasn't got a willie, Pan. So it's all right."

"That's not the point. It feels rude."

"Pansy, just get on and snog Anastasia, will you. We'll never get round to 
my turn at this rate."

The lovers assumed the position again, and their faces moved closer 
together. Their eyes instinctively closed, and their noses bumped gently 
but firmly together. Anastasia's glasses fell off.

"Oh, fuck ME!" said Pansy.

"You shouldn't say that to a boy, Pan," Suzanne explained patiently. "He 
might not understand. You are supposed to tilt your heads to one side, then 
your noses will miss each other."

"Which side," Anastasia wanted to know.

"Either fucking side! It doesn't matter. The opposite way to Pan. Watch her 
and tilt the opposite way."

"Can't I close my eyes?"

"No, the boy's supposed to keep his open. Now get *on* with it."

Their noses slid past each other and their lips met inertly. A few seconds 
later, they broke apart again.

"She's trying to stick her tongue in my mouth," cried Pansy in outrage.

"You're supposed to, aren't you?" Anastasia looked surprised.

"Not yet, Staze. You hardly know each other. Just wet your lips and put 
them against Pansy's, then enjoy it." The girls obeyed her instructions, as 
far as possible. Suzanne watched them with ill-concealed impatience. At 
last, she could wait no longer. "Come on, it's my turn now!" She elbowed 
Pansy roughly aside and seized Anastasia by the shoulders, then bored in 
for a huge wet kiss.

"Hang on! Get her off! Grrrrrmphflupp!" Anastasia wriggled herself free 
and stood quivering with shock. "She was eating me!"

Pansy looked aggrieved. "You said that was wrong, Suze. You hardly know 
each other, remember?"

"But I *do* know Staze," Suzanne replied with a wolfish leer. "She's my 
friend!" She grabbed at her friend again in a decidedly friendly manner. 
Despite herself, Anastasia was beginning to respond. Suzanne's huge 
breasts squashed between them like pillows, Suzanne's tongue flickered in 
and out of her mouth like an inquisitive snake, Suzanne moaned softly 
with passion. Anastasia entered into the spirit of the occasion and thrust 
her hips forward. She encountered Suzanne thrusting back at her. Her leg 
was between Anastasia's thighs, gently forcing them apart. The girls' loins 
melted into each other.

Several minutes went by, while Pansy paced up and down nervously and 
the other girls in the dormitory formed a ragged circle round the snogging 
couple. A certain amount of panting and moaning could be heard from 
members of the audience. Eventually, the lovers came up for air.

"Hey, Staze, you're pretty good! I really fancy you. I'm getting soaked!"

"What have you stopped for, then?" A strange light shone in Anastasia's 
eyes. Her hands met behind Suzanne's neck and pulled her close.

They recommenced their female bonding. One or two of the other girls had 
formed pairs and were pawing at each other clumsily in an experimental 
way, while keeping an eye on Suzanne and Anastasia for fear of missing 
anything vital. Their vigilance was rewarded. In a bold move which 
brought a gasp from the onlookers, Anastasia made her first truly overt 
move. One of her hands detached itself from Suzanne's neck and sought 
her breast. It wasn't really too difficult to find, after all.

Suzenne appeared to stiffen slightly as Anastasia first touched her, then 
she relaxed and began to escalate the intensity of her kissing. It was 
Anastasia's turn to be cautious as Suzanne's long tongue became ever more 
adventurous. Her caution lasted all of five seconds. She went in for a spot 
of tonsil hockey herself, and backed it up with a determined frontal 
assault, up inside Suzanne's fully laden T-shirt, to cup her hand round 
Suzanne's breast. It was far too big to get her fingers even part of the way 
round it, but she tried, and Suzanne responded generously, rubbing herself 
against Anastasia with a little cry of abandonment.

The audience was beginning to look concerned. Things were getting out of 
hand. At this rate, someone was going to end up seriously pregnant. 
Suzanne found Anastasia's right breast with her own hand and began to 
explore. She mistook Anastasia's writhing for mounting passion and 
practically ripped off the buttons of her blouse, then plunged her hand into 
the warm nest of the smaller girl's cleavage.

There was one of those moments of silence.

Anastasia pulled away and stood stock still, looking up into Suzanne's eyes 
in mute, dog-like appeal. Suzanne seemed to be about to say something. 
Her mouth even opened ready to say it. But the words never came out. 
Instead, she placed both hands behind Anastasia's head, and soft as a 
feather, kissed her lips one last time.

Anastasia relaxed and practically fell into Suzanne's arms, burying her face 
between her huge, warm breasts. Suzanne cuddled her gently, rocked her 
like a little baby.

"The show's over, break it up, you lot," she said, and the spell broken, the 
audience moved away. The First Form at St Cat's did not argue with 
Suzanne.

With a little private glance into Anastasia's face, Suzanne led the girl to her 
own bed and sat her down. She glanced around the dorm. The girls were 
occupied with other things. They had plenty to talk about. Even Pansy was 
missing, presumably in the toilet, playing with herself.

"Well, Staze!" Suzanne said quietly. "And we thought you were growing all 
this time. How long have you been stuffing your bra, then?"

Anastasia shook her head. Tears came to her eyes. She couldn't say a word.

Suzanne placed a hand under her chin and raised it slightly for another 
sisterly kiss. "I won't tell anyone, Staze, but I'd like to know the answer. 
Later? After lights out, okay?"

Anastasia gulped. "Okay!"


**********


"You look whacked out, Cee, what's up?"

Corinne looked up at me. She was sitting listlessly on the edge of the bed. 
"I'm shattered. I don't know why, I've never felt this tired before. My 
back, my shoulders, my feet, even." She looked at the big tub of cream I 
put down on the dressing table. "What's in there?"

"It's for you. I thought you'd be tired after running round all day, so it's 
some special relaxing rub we've made for you. It's all natural oils and 
essences. If you like, I'll rub it on. It really works."

"I certainly need something." She stood up with great difficulty. My bra 
creaked dangerously. "I split my shirt," she complained. "Look!"

Since that was the word printed right across her chest, it was exactly what 
I was doing. She showed me the split, as if I could miss it! The T-shirt 
being knitted in the form of a tube, there was no seam to give way. 
Instead, the material had simply parted under the strain. It now said L    
oOK. Most distracting.

"When did this happen?"

"On the way back, fortunately, so nobody saw me. You must have shrunk 
this shirt as well!"

"Take it off. I'll help you."

Helping her was easier said than done. The poor girl was so tired that she 
flopped around as I pulled the shirt over her head, then released the 
velcro fasteners and eased the bra straps off her shoulders.

"Thanks, Shan," she said wearily. "I really fancy taking you to bed right 
now, but I honestly don't feel up to it. You'd think I'd be used to these 
things by now, wouldn't you!"

"That's all right. Lie down and I'll do your back."

She tried to lie on her tummy, but things got in the way. Eventually, she 
lay half on her side with her breasts spread out before her.

"Where does it ache?"

"Everywhere. Oooh, there, yes. And there, too. That's lovely, Shan. Keep 
going."

I had to be sparing with the cream on her back, to make sure of leaving 
enough for the far greater surface area at the front. "Now turn the other 
way," I said. "That's right, beautiful." There was still the problem of getting 
her on to her back, but she solved that one herself. As I smoothed the last 
of a handful of cream into her buttocks, she stretched luxuriously and 
rolled on to her back.

"Cee's boobies are tired as well, Shannie," she pouted, and I just about wet 
myself. "Rub Cee's monster boobies, Shannie. Make them all better!"

Never mind *just about* wetting myself, I thought, let it go, Shan. I was so 
wet, I didn't know whether it was one thing or the other. Well, I did, but 
you know what I mean.

There she lay, with those two great big THINGS on her chest, lying on both 
sides of her body, yet still standing up about a mile and a half in the air. I 
had never seen anything so totally *rubbable* in my life. I took two great 
handfuls of cream and went 'Splat!' It might even have been 'Splats!' 
Singular or plural, Corinne's mammoth breasts absorbed the best part of a 
pint of cream each, and by the time I was finished rubbing it in, I was so 
thoroughly drenched I had to change my knickers as they were literally 
dripping!

"Don't go away, Shannie," Corinne wailed.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'm just taking these things off."

A hand grabbed mine, and I was dragged back to the bed. With surprising 
strength, seeing how tired she was, Corinne positioned my helpless body 
above hers, my knees each side of her face. I peered longingly down her 
slender body to her lightly-furred pussy. I strained to reach it, like a dog 
trying to get at a juicy tidbit of meat.

"Shannie, your bottom is getting obscenely huge," she scolded me from 
down there somewhere, and I felt something touch me. Was it a finger? 
Her tongue? It didn't really matter what it was, I was coming yet again.


**********

"You don't mean to tell me it works, Staze?" Suzanne groped under her 
pillow for her torch. "Show me," she ordered.

Anastasia reluctantly turned on her side to face Suzanne, and pulled up the 
bottom of her fleecy nightie. Suzanne played the beam of the torch over 
Anastasia's chest, then looked under her arms as well, as if she thought the 
girl might be hiding her boobs somewhere else.

"Where did they go?" she whispered at last.

"I told you. When Shona spilled that glob of stuff on my blouse, I shrank. 
My boobies were coming along nicely until then." There was deep sorrow 
in her voice, and Suzanne was touched.

"Don't worry, kid. We can always grow you some more, that'll no problem 
at all as soon as we've finished developing something to make boobs grow. 
How big do you want them? No, tell me later," she said as Anastasia 
opened her mouth to say something. "The important thing is that the 
shrink works. Or at least, that batch did. Right, nobody else knows but us?"

"No. I mean, yes. Miss Gruntworthy knows."

"Her? Why? What did you go and tell her for?"

"She was the only one I could think of. I was scared of you lot finding out. 
You'd all take the piss out of me."

Suzanne took the girl in her arms, gently easing her head into her deep, 
sweaty cleavage. "As if we'd do a thing like that, Staze. So, it's just you, me 
and Miss Gruntworthy?"

"There's one other thing." Anastasia's voice was muffled until she prised 
her face out of Suzanne's chest. She went on more distinctly. "Miss 
Gruntworthy has a great big tub of the stuff. We made it earlier. That's 
what I was doing when you were looking for me. I don't know what she 
wanted that for."

"I wonder who she's going to use it on. Not herself, surely?"

Anastasia clapped her hand across her mouth. It sounded loud, even 
beneath the bed covers. "It's not for her. I just remembered! It was for 
Miss Meadowlark!" 





Part XV





Chapter 43:- It Seems To Work


I couldn't sleep. It was like one of those Christmas Eves when you're a kid, 
when you know your presents are there, downstairs, but it's still the 
middle of the night: too early to get up and investigate. Corinne lay beside 
me, snuffling softly in her sleep.

I wanted to see if the boob reducer had worked, but I didn't want to wake 
her. She had been so tired that she had fallen asleep even while we were 
making love. It had been all I could do to get her turned round so her head 
was on the pillow. Corinne was heavy: so much heavier than usual. It was 
all breast, all the extra weight. If only they could make these things 
lighter, I said to myself.

Eventually, I suppose I must have dozed off, because the next thing I 
remembered was feeling a kick on the shin. Corinne was stirring in her 
sleep. There was daylight creeping through the curtains. It took a few 
seconds as usual to work out where I was, and who was here with me, 
then I remembered. And I couldn't bring myself to look. Had it worked? 
Slowly, so as not to wake her, I sat up, still looking straight ahead.

"God, I'm so stiff," grumbled a voice from beneath the covers. There was a 
lot of rustling and Corinne emerged, nose first. "Hello," she said. "I am 
deeply knackered. All that walking around yesterday. My back. My poor 
little feet!" She sat up and placed a kiss on my cheek. "My hair feels a right 
mess. Look at me!"

For the first time, I looked at her. And gasped.

"Bad as that, huh?" She ran her fingers through it, combing out the tangles 
with little grimaces.

I was still staring at her. We hadn't bothered putting on nighties. That is, I 
hadn't bothered, and Corinne was flat out anyway, so she couldn't. So I had 
a perfect view. The sun peeked through a cloud and a golden beam of 
morning sunlight fell on Corinne's chest. No, there was no mistake. She was 
back to where she had been before her disastrous enlargement. In fact, she 
was back to the size she had been when she had first arrived at St Cat's for 
her interview.

She decided to look at her hair for herself, if it was bad enough for me to 
stare wordlessly at her for fully fifteen seconds. She slid herself out of bed 
and undulated gently to the dressing table mirror.

"I see what you mean," she said, tugging at a stray hank of hair, then 
picking up the brush. She began to brush tentatively, standing in front of 
the glass and occasionally tossing her hair back over one shoulder. I 
watched, fascinated. Had she always been as slim as this? Was it just a 
trick of the light? "How's that?" She turned and showed me. "Not one of my 
better hair days, but better?"

"Better," I agreed. "How does it feel?"

"Could do with a visit to Madame Alfred's, but it will do for today."

"No, not your hair. Your ... the rest of you?"

"Weary, as I said. All that time wandering around asking the girls about 
their wheelbarrows. I don't know why that should make me so tired, but it 
did."

"You don't feel any different? Any smaller?"

Corinne grinned at me. "It made me tired, it didn't wear me away. No, I'll 
recover. Just give me time." She studied her reflection critically again, 
turning slightly this way and that. "Have you seen my bra?" she asked, 
poking around in a pile of clean clothes.

"In your drawer?"

"How would it get in there, if it's the one I was wearing yesterday ... 
hmmm, it was, though!" She took the bra out of the drawer, where I had 
tucked it out of sight yesterday when she had been struggling to fit herself 
into my clothes. I watched her put it on.

"Have you been wearing this?"

"Whaaa...? Me?"

"It's too big. All the adjusters are stretched way out. Look!" She squeezed 
at the cups and we both watched as the ScatBra made itself smaller. At last 
it stopped creaking, and she shook her breasts experimentally from side to 
side. God, if she'd tried that yesterday, she'd have gone through the wall. 
"Seems better now." She found a clean blouse and put it on. "Are you 
getting up today, or shall I take a sick note in for you?"

"No, I'm fine ..." I groped for my bra, the one she'd been wearing 
yesterday. It creaked and squeaked as the cups made themselves smaller.

"Yours too? Anyone would think we were both shrinking. The Incredible 
Shrinking Schoolteachers." She disappeared into the little kitchen area and 
I heard the water running. I managed to hide the ripped T-shirt in the 
laundry basket, and piled a load of dirty washing on top. I was looking out 
of the window when she came back in.

"Are you sure you're feeling all right?" she said, coming close and touching 
my temple with one or two cool fingers. "You've got a bit of a 
temperature."

"No, I'm fine. So long as you are, that is?"

"Me?" She took a deep breath and jiggled around. "I feel better than I have 
for ages! Must have been that cream you massaged me with last night." 
She took the lid off the tub and dipped a finger into the contents. "Was this 
full? You've used gallons!"

"No, it was only half a tub. Good stuff, isn't it! Seems to work just fine."

"Yes!" Corinne stroked my neck softly. "Just fine!"


**********

"There they go. I thought they were never going!" Suzanne crept slowly out 
of her hiding place and glanced both ways. The carpeted corridor was 
empty. "Come on, Staze!"

Anastasia followed Suzanne into Miss Meadowlark's and Miss 
Gruntworthy's bedroom. "There it is!" She spotted the cream tub straight 
away. "Come on, bring it, let's get out of here!"

"Don't panic! Hey, was this full?"

"Near enough, yes." Anastasia inspected the tub. "Gosh! They've used loads 
of it. What have they been doing?"

Suzanne narrowed her eyes. "Well, it was hard to say, I didn't get a very 
good look, but I would think they used it to shrink Miss Meadowlark. She 
was huge yesterday, but she seems to be back to normal today. Either they 
shrank her with this cream or she had some of that water redemption."

"That what?" said Anastasia, then she decided not to challenge Suzanne. 
"Let's go," she pleaded. "Before somebody comes."

Together, the two girls sneaked back to the dorm, and Suzanne hid the tub 
in the bottom of her wardrobe.


**********

I knocked on Smegs's bedroom door. There was a muffled snort from 
inside.

"Who the fuck's that," she wanted to know, and my heart filled with love 
for her.

"It's me, you idle cow, shift your smelly arse," I advised her.

"It's open ..."

She was sitting on the edge of her bed in well-remembered pose, 
scratching an armpit and squinting up at me. "What's the time?" She ran an 
experimental tongue round the inside of her mouth and shuddered.

"Eight o' clock. Corinne's in the loo. I wanted to tell you before she came 
back. She's shrunk."

"Shrunk?"

"Didn't I tell you? I didn't, did I? Anastasia had some of the prototype 
shrink juice spilled on her chest, and she came to me. It had worked. So 
straight away, I grabbed her and we went and mixed a load more - a big 
tub full - and last night I rubbed Corinne with it. All over. It worked, like I 
say. She's smaller."

"Well, that's great news, Shan. What does Corinne think?"

"She doesn't know! You know how she thought she'd always been the huge 
size she was yesterday, when she was bursting my best bra? Well, now 
she's back to her original size, and as far as she's concerned, she's always 
been that size. She thinks the cream was ..."

"She remembers you rubbing the cream on her?"

"Yes. She thinks it was just a nice massage to relieve her aching back. She 
says she never felt better."

"Wow, Shan! You realise what this means?"

"Not really, no. I'm not thinking too clearly at the moment."

"We can make women larger or smaller at will, and they will think they 
were always like that. So will the people who rub the stuff on. Like 
husbands and boyfriends. But ... wait a minute...!"

"You mean ...?"

"Yes, I mean! YOU rubbed the cream on to Corinne, yet you can remember 
that she wasn't always as small as she is now."

"But I knew when I was rubbing the cream on, I mixed it. If I hadn't 
known, as Suzanne and Pansy didn't know, and Amy ...!"

"What?" the voice came from the bed. Smegs looked uncomfortable. She 
couldn't look me in the eye. "Who's talking about me?"

My eyes boggled as the bed covers gave a writhing motion and Amy's face 
appeared, her hair tousled, looking unutterably desirable. I pointed a 
wavering finger at her.

"Sorry," muttered Smegs. "We spent the night together," she explained. 
Rather needlessly, I thought.

Amy sat up in bed, brushing her hair out of her eyes. She rubbed both 
eyes, sticking her elbows out sideways, a pose which thrust her breasts out 
mightily. They wobbled heavily. I clutched my groin in case anything 
dreadful happened down there without warning.

"Hi, Miss," said Amy, cheerfully, stretching hugely. "I could murder a cup of 
coffee, Meggo," she yawned.

"Meggo?"

"I'll make you one, darling," murmured Smegs, heading for the kitchen. 
"You too, Shan?"

"No, none for me, Meggo. I'm off for breakfast." I followed her, admiring 
the sway of her hips, her endless thighs and strong calves.

"It's what she calls me," Smegs whispered out of the side of her mouth. 
"Sort of a pet name."

"Which one of you's the pet? You never made *me* a cup of coffee in five 
years!"

Smegs blushed. "Amy's a bit demanding, but she's pretty good in bed." She 
sounded so ashamed I felt sorry for her. Almost.

"I'll see you after breakfast and we can try and work out what's 
happening," I told her, opening the door. "See you later. See you, Amy!"

"Later, Miss!" My spleen did a soft-shoe shuffle as I went out. Had I 
imagined it, or was Smegs already spreadeagled on the bed in an attitude 
of total submission? I must have imagined it. Surely. Not Smegs! 


**********

"Where were you?" Corinne was back in the bedroom when I got back. "I 
needed you to tell me what you think of this skirt. It feels a bit baggy 
round the waist, somehow. Did you wash it with some of your things and 
stretch it?"

It was my fault again! Her skirt this time. I slipped a couple of fingers 
inside the waistband. It was certainly loose on her. She must have become 
smaller all over. Okay, she'd lost pounds off her bust, but the rest of her 
was shrunk, too: not by such a great amount, but enough to notice.

"It's not stretched, it's still the right shape. You must have lost a bit of 
weight since you last wore it."

"I wore it last Friday," she said, with no doubt at all in her voice. "I 
certainly haven't lost two inches from my waist since then, have I?"

"Well, you do look a little more trim, Cee. Thinking about it, you could 
easily have lost an inch or so. You look great, anyway. Really fit!"

"Gee, thanks, friend. That's what men say when you walk past building 
sites, isn't it? Look at that then, phworrr! She's FIT! You know what they 
mean I'm fit *for*, don't you!"

"You're that as well, darling. If we weren't going to breakfast, I'd take you 
back to bed, but if you're wasting away, we'd better eat. Not that I'm 
wasting away, though!"

A sinister thought had just come to me. If this new wonder mixture 
worked on waists and hips as well as breasts, why couldn't I have a little 
application where I really needed it? I could get Corinne to rub it in to my 
bottom, my tummy and my thighs! Tonight! That was something to really 
look forward to.

"Come on, then." She held out her little hand for me. It was always nice, I 
thought, the way Corinne liked to hold hands. It was so friendly, yet at the 
same time, we both knew it meant something more.


**********

"Why did you steal the reducer back from Miss Gruntworthy, Suze?" 
Anastasia wrinkled her nose and looked at her buxom friend.

"To use on Shona, of course. It will save her having to use her wheelbarrow 
and keep crashing all the time. If we can get her down to a hundred 
inches, she'll be ever so happy, she says. She wants to be a normal girl, 
that's all."

"How about Amelia, too?" said Anastasia.

"I don't know about her. She's always been big. It might not work on her, 
you see?"

"But, Suze...!" Anastasia started. "Oh, never mind. What about me, now? Can 
we make me bigger again?"

"Not yet," explained Suzanne with great patience. "We haven't invented 
anything to make boobs bigger yet."

"But you *have*," howled Anastasia. How do you think Amelia got that size, 
and Shona?"

"Same as me, only more so. It's just Mother Nature!"

Anastasia sighed heavily. She was beginning to feel as confused as Suzanne 
obviously was. She pulled her notepad from her bag and sat down. With 
the tip of her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, she
began to write.

      Fuck:  Makes you horny.
      Love:  Makes boys fall in love with you from half a mile away.
      Boob:  Makes your tits get bigger.
      Shrink:  Makes your tits get smaller.

Easy so far. She scratched her head and wrote some more.

      Erroneous:  Makes you get all horny when it gets on parts of you and 
people touch you there.
      Ambrosia:  Sometimes you can't remember anything, but sometimes 
you can.

Her head was spinning. All she really wanted was her boobs back.





Chapter 44:- Creaming


Anastasia thought about the problem for half an hour before the solution 
came to her. It was blindingly obvious. She had watched Miss Gruntworthy 
mixing the shrink cream. It was perfectly straightforward. By changing 
from a liquid to an easy-to-use cream, they had even overcome the 
tendency of the stuff to catch fire. All she needed was the formula for boob 
juice, and then she would be able to substitute the vital ingredient from 
the shrink cream.

She turned back a few pages in her notes to where she had carefully 
copied out Suzanne and Pansy's boob juice formula. Taking a clean page, 
she began to write boldly.

An hour later, everything was ready and stashed away in the cupboard. As 
soon as the others went to have their evening meal, she would plead a 
stomach ache and mix her own special boob cream. She even had a tub 
ready to pour it into. Just like when Miss Gruntworthy had mixed the 
shrink, the cream would set in the tub to a rich spreadable consistency. 
Anastasia could hardly wait. The other girls had never hung around so long 
after the class ended. Didn't they want their dinner, Anastasia thought, 
wildly.

"Come on, then," Suzanne said at last. "There'll be none left if we don't get 
over the restaurant. Come ON, Staze!"

"I've got a tummy-ache. I'll see you guys in the dorm. Later."

"Later, then. You don't want us to bring you a doggy bag?"

"Oh. Maybe a little bit, Pan. I might feel better later on. Thanks."

The girls left, and silence descended at last.

The mixing took longer than she thought. Anastasia reached the dorm, 
panting, only thirty seconds before the others came back from the 
restaurant. They found her curled up on her bed with a book.

"How's your guts-ache, kid?" said Suzanne.

"Oh! Oh, fine."

"Good, 'cos Pan's brought you a whole bag-full. She's gone to the loo, she 
said she was busting for a crap. She's brought you meat pie, potatoes and 
vegetables. Gravy, bread and butter pudding and custard. No cabbage."

"All in the same bag?"

"She only had one bag. But it all goes down the same way, Staze."

Pansy came in and dumped the bag on Anastasia's bed. "That's better," she 
informed anyone who was interested in her bowel movements. "Here you 
go, Staze, I got you some of everything."

Anastasia peered into the bulging bag and felt less hungry. "Thanks. 
Maybe I don't feel quite so hungry just yet. I'll have it later."

"Best have it while it's hot, Staze!"


**********

Anastasia sat up and peered at the clock. It was midnight. They'd all be 
asleep by now. She really did have a tummy-ache now. Having to force 
that dinner down while the others stood round her bed and watched every 
mouthful had done her no good at all. She put her feet on the chilly floor 
and reached into her wardrobe for the tub of cream. Then she padded out 
into the toilets.


**********

"You awake, Sho?" Suzanne shook the big girl by her toe. Acres of breast 
wobbled massively in the reinforced double bed. Shona opened an eye 
reluctantly. "Come on. It's gone twelve. Let's go and do it!"

"Where?"

"In the bogs. If we do it in here and make a noise, they'll all wake up. 
Come on."

Shona followed Suzanne out of the door and down the corridor to the 
toilets. "In here!"

"In there? In a cubicle?"

"If anyone comes, we don't want them to see, do we? Go on, and take your 
nightie off."

Shona squeezed her bulk into the cubicle and flopped her bottom on to the 
cold seat. Her breasts lolloped to rest on each side of her knees, resting 
lightly on the floor. "Ouch, this floor's bloody cold," she complained. "How 
are you going to rub that stuff on? There's no room for you in here as 
well."

Suzanne had already found that out for herself. "You'll have to do your 
own. Do it by feel. Can you reach everything?"

"You mean can I reach all of my boobs? Nearly. I suppose I can, if I stretch. 
I don't know why you can't do it for me, it would be much quicker."

"If you'd got on with it, you'd have been half done by now," scolded 
Suzanne crossly. "You ought to be thankful to me for getting up at midnight 
just to help you. You're an ungrateful bitch, you know."


**********

In the last cubicle along the row, Anastasia heard the others come in and 
froze into stony silence. She would have to stay now until they'd gone. She 
knew what they were doing, all right, from the conversation, although why 
it had been necessary to squeeze Shona into a toilet cubicle she had no 
idea. She sat with her tub of cream between her feet, shivering with the 
cold.

She might be here for hours! What if the other two didn't go back to the 
dorm? Anastasia would be found, frozen solid, in the morning. Might as 
well do what she came for, then. At least, she thought, grimly, if they find 
my body in the morning, it might as well have decent-size tits. She peeled 
the lid of the plastic tub and dipped her hand into the cream. It was still 
not completely cold, even though it had been mixed seven hours ago. Even 
so, it struck a chill into her boob when she dobbed a handful of the stuff on 
to the upper slope of her left one. It was all she could do not to cry out.

Fortunately, Shona was making enough noise for both of them.

"What are you moo-ing about in there?" Suzanne asked her with some 
impatience. "Can't you just spread the stuff on and be done with it?"

"I can't reach. I'm too big. I can't reach the ends!"

Suzanne snorted with disgust. "I'm going back to bed. I can't hang around 
here while you mess about. You'll have to finish it yourself. Make sure you 
do, now you've started. You'll end up a horrible shape if you leave it half 
done. I'll see you in the morning." Her bare feet padded out and the door 
slammed shut behind her.

Anastasia felt a little better. With Suzanne gone, she only had to run the 
gauntlet of Shona to get back to the dorm. And the cream felt nice, now she 
was rubbing it into the flesh of her breasts. They felt warm and tingly, and 
the nipples had become erect, pressing against her palms every time she 
rubbed across them. She did it again, and was shocked to hear a moan 
coming from her own mouth. Was that me, she thought. She rubbed more 
insistently, round and round, squeezing, kneading herself. She took two 
more handfuls of cream and lashed it on, then smoothed it out and rubbed 
until it was all absorbed. Her flesh gleamed in the dim light. Her nipples 
were like twin cherries, strawberries, even.

Panting slightly, Anastasia shuddered and stopped rubbing herself. Easing 
her thighs apart, she touched herself with her index finger, and nearly shot 
off the seat. Wow! She touched herself again...

"Who's that?"

Anastasia sat bolt upright, not daring to speak.

"Who's there?" said Shona. "Who's in there? I know you're there."

Anastasia slowly stood up and opened the door of the cubicle. She peered 
out. There was nobody in the room. She scanned the row of wash-basins, 
looking in the mirrors for signs of movement. Nothing. The door creaked as 
she opened it still wider and stepped out into the room. Then she began to 
creep silently towards the door. In a second or two she would be outside 
Shona's cubicle door. It was almost shut, but she could hear Shona grunting 
to herself as she tried to rub the cream on to the more unreachable 
portions of her giant breasts.

Ready? Now!

Anastasia shot past the half-open doorway of Shona's cubicle, hearing a 
squeak of fright from within. 

"Who's that?" she heard as she shot through the door into the corridor. 
Seconds later, she was trembling in her own chilly bed, her breasts still 
curiously warm and throbbing. She ducked her head beneath the covers, 
almost expecting to see them glowing like beacons in the darkness.


**********

Shona listened for several minutes before summoning the courage to prise 
herself off the toilet seat and look out of the door. Nobody.

She sneaked along the cubicles, looking into each one. There was nobody 
there. It was only when she reached the end one that she turned with a 
shrug. May as well carry on rubbing my tits out here, where there's a bit 
more room, she thought. That was when she saw the tub of cream in the 
end cubicle. Somebody else creaming herself?

A bit more in this tub. Shona dipped her fingers into the cream. Hmm, not 
too cold. On an impulse, she took a generous handful of cream, reached 
way down and sploshed it on to her left nipple. Another on her right. It 
was much easier out her in the open. Suzanne was a strange girl, wanting 
her to rub the stuff on to her breasts in secret in case anyone saw!

"We're all girls here," she muttered to herself as she squeezed the cream 
generously around the fullness of her mammoth breasts. It felt great! Like 
nothing she had ever felt before. Warm. Sure, the cream was slightly warm 
but it felt even warmer when she rubbed it in. Just the thing for a cold 
night, she thought. "There!" She stood in front of the big full length mirror 
and admired her reflection. "Hey, not bad! Seen worse! She turned this way 
and that, admiring the way her gigantic swollen breasts swayed and 
rebounded, slick with cream. Had she missed a bit there? No, fully covered.

With a satisfying click, she replaced the lid of the cream tub and set off 
back to the dorm. She was halfway there when she remembered she had 
left the other tub of cream in the loo.

Three minutes later, both tubs in the bottom of her wardrobe, Shona 
sighed heavily as she slipped into her extra wide bed. She had pulled her 
nightie on, cool cotton over her blazing nipples. Her breasts felt amazing. A 
strange thought came to her. They had looked so wonderful in the big 
mirror. Shona almost felt a sort of regret to be losing them. Not completely, 
but down to a mere 100 inches! What a shame. And they felt 
tremendously tingly, and sexy! They had never felt like this before. With 
some difficulty, Shona pushed her hand beneath the vast weight of her 
right breast where it lay beside her body. Up and across her loins, until her 
impatient fingers thrust the nightdress aside and came to rest on her 
pussy.

She almost cried out in delight as her fingers found their target. The clock 
glowed in the darkness. It was a few minutes before one o' clock.


**********

It was another of Moggie's meetings! Again, we found ourselves sitting in a 
row before the headmistress's desk.

"You're looking very fit, Corinne!" Moggie smiled at her.

"Thank you, Miss," said Corinne without enthusiasm.

"Much slimmer," said Moggie.

"Yes, Miss."

Corinne didn't really believe her. She had no reason to think she'd lost any 
weight at all. Hadn't she always been this shape? Why was everyone 
telling her she looked so fit? We'd been through all this earlier, as we had 
been dressing.

"Everybody was telling me I'd lost weight," she had told me. "All day long: 
I was getting pissed off with it. I was nearly starting to believe it myself."

"If that skirt really has shrunk, Cee, it might be an idea to get another. I'll 
measure you if you like."

"No need for that," she sniffed. "My waist is seventeen and my hips are 
thirty. They've been that size for ever!"

I gazed at her out of the corner of my eye. It would be worth trying some 
of that shrink cream on my bottom half. It could do no harm at all. A word 
with Anastasia as soon as the chance came along.

"... do you, Chauntaille?" Moggie was always asking questions when I was 
thinking about something else.

"Yes, Miss," I guessed.

"You what?" Moggie gasped. Smegs, Corinne and Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn 
Owen were staring at me.

"Sorry. I meant no, Miss!"

"I should think not. Thank you then, ladies. That will be all. Right, no 
questions? Good. Carry on, St Cat's!"

We filed out of the office.

"Was that true, Shan?" Corinne asked me as we headed for the classrooms.

"Was what true?"

"Moggie asked you if you had ..." She stopped. Pansy had appeared. She 
seemed agitated, hopping up and down. Things moved generously inside 
her blouse.

"Yes, Pansy?"

"Sorry, Miss! Sorry, Miss Meadowlark." Pansy blushed hotly, bit her lip and 
pointed her toes inwards. "It's Anastasia, Miss. And Shona! Both of them, 
Miss. I think you'd better come and see them, Miss."

Here we go again, I thought. The First Form Sexual Chemistry Group strikes 
again. "See you later, Cee," I said. "Lead on, Pansy, let's see what you've 
done this time."

Pansy shook her head. "Not me, Miss. I've been out of it. I can't shit, Miss! 
Nurse says I've got consternation ..."

"That seems like a logical conclusion, Pansy. I'm sorry to hear of your 
problem. You'll find nature will eventually take its course. The pain will be 
similar to having a child. Character building. Anyway, what's happened to 
these girls of yours?"

"They've grown, Miss. Substantively."

"You don't say. You mean Anastasia has grown back to where she was. She 
got smaller, didn't she?"

"Smaller? No!" She looked at me strangely. "She's huge now. You wait 'til 
you see her!"

"I think I'd better. What about Shona?" Shona couldn't have grown. She 
was the size of a house already. Several houses.

"You know her wheelbarrow, Miss?" Pansy asked, darkly.

"It's a very nice wheelbarrow, Pansy."

"But it's too small." We had arrived at the lab. "They're not in here, Miss," 
she said as I was about to go in. "They daren't leave the dorm."

"As big as that, huh?"

"As big as that." Pansy said no more as we went up the stairs and along the 
corridor to the wide door marked 'First Form - No Male Staff Without Prior 
Arrangement'.

We paused outside the door and Pansy took a deep breath. "I hope you're 
ready for this, Miss. It's not a pretty sight!"

"I'm ready, Pansy. Lead the way."





Chapter 45:- A Bit Of Love And Attention


Pansy opened the wide dormitory door. It swung silently on its heavy duty 
hinges. The builder had done an excellent job on this occasion. A strange 
tableau confronted us.

Shona was still tucked up in bed. Suzanne was sitting beside her, an 
anxious expression on her face, saying something reassuring. 

"Oh, Miss," said Suzanne, getting up. "Shona's not very well. And Anastasia 
seems to have ... well ... grown, Miss!"

"Where is she?"

"In the bogs, Miss. She won't come out."

Time to see her later. For now, Shona was perhaps the more urgent case.

"Well, Shona? You've done it again!"

She gave a nod. "Yes, Miss."

"But why? Have you been spraying boob juice again? Or creaming 
yourself?"

"She's been creaming herself, Miss," said Suzanne. "Every fifteen minutes. 
She's grown as well, but not a lot. Probably no more than half a metre, a 
couple of feet, maybe."

Bad enough, I thought. But the other symptom was distinctly worrying. 
Creaming herself every fifteen minutes? What did Suzanne mean? "What 
do you mean, Suzanne?"

"She's got the Uncontrollable Horniness, Miss. It comes and goes. It's pretty 
powerful, Miss, so it's just as well her tits are so big she can't move. She 
just lies there and comes, Miss. Have a look at her. She's not due for 
another seven minutes." With a flourish like a music hall conjurer, she 
whipped back the duvet.

I've described this problem before. Once a girl's breasts reach a certain 
size, an increase of a few pounds, or a few dozen pounds, makes little or no 
difference. Well, it does to the poor girl, of course, especially when she 
wants to get out of bed to go to the loo, or wherever. I took in Shona's 
newly enlarged monstrousness with a single glance. The cotton nightdress 
was stretched drum tight across her upper body.

"What have you been putting on yourself this time, Shona?" I asked in 
exasperation.

"Reducing cream," she said numbly.

"It doesn't seem to have worked very well, does it, dear?"

"No, Miss."

"Is there any of this cream left?" Nagging doubts were playing at the edge 
of my mind.

"Bottom of my wardrobe," said Shona with a nod in that direction.

Suzanne opened the wardrobe door and took out two plastic tubs.

"Two?" she said, looking quizzically at Shona.

"I used some of the other tub that I found in the end toilet. Where 
Anastasia had been rubbing herself."

"That stuff seems to have made Anastasia grow," said Suzanne, looking 
puzzled. "I didn't think there was such a thing yet!"

I couldn't believe she just said that, but I let it pass.

"Pansy," I said. "Take these two tubs down to the lab and find out what's in 
them. Where did this one come from?" I held up the almost empty tub that 
looked somehow familiar. I remembered the torn label that had once said, 
'Vanilla, Chocolate and Coffee.'

"From your room, Miss!" said Pansy, hanging her head.

"We'll talk about that later, Pansy. Get those things analysed straight away. 
Did you use both creams, Shona?"

"Yes, Miss. I used that one first, and then Anastasia's." She began to sob.

"All right, darling," I said. "We'll sort it out. Perhaps you shouldn't have 
mixed the two, but it's done now. Can you get out of bed if we help you?"

"I'll try, Miss. I need a piss, Miss!"

We helped her off the bed. There was a big wet patch on the bottom sheet. 
"Looks as if it's too late for the loo, Sho!" said Suzanne.

"No, that's my love juice," said Shona, blushing. "Gosh! All that lot from me? 
I didn't know I was such a wet girl." She stood forlornly in her nightdress 
which was almost exploding.

"How long before the next burst of Uncontrollable Horniness, Suzanne?" I 
asked her urgently.

"A minute, maybe. She's not exactly regular, Miss. In fact, I think she's 
starting now."

Shona's eyes had glazed over. A trickle of spit was running down her chin. 
I watched it drip unchecked onto her breast, where it soaked into the 
material. Her mouth opened and she gave a little moan. Shona was trying 
to reach down past her breasts, but her arms weren't remotely long 
enough to get past her breasts, tightly enclosed as they were. She began to 
whimper softly.

"I can't reach, Miss," she complained. "I need to touch myself!"

Well, at least we knew where we stood with Shona. No false modesty here.

"Touch me. Please," Shona wailed. "Touch my thing. Somebody, please!"

"Touch her thing, Suzanne," I said.

Suzanne squatted down, her breasts squeezed against her thighs. She 
probed with an experimental finger up beneath Shona's nightdress. Shona 
gave a sort of jolt and her eyes opened wide. "Yow!" she said. 
"Suzannnnnnnnnne! Do that again!"

Suzanne did it again, whatever it was. To judge by the effect, it was quite 
pleasing. I was tempted to ask Suzanne to do it to me, too. Shona writhed 
around as if balanced on Suzanne's wriggling fingers. Masses of flesh were 
on the move inside the nightie. I clutched Shona's hand in case she fell 
over and did some damage to the furniture. She gripped my fingers tightly 
and damply.

"Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!" she said, not very originally, but it had a 
rhythm to it which I was beginning to find not unexciting. I was getting 
moist myself. Suddenly, Shona's arms were around my neck, her 
stupendous breasts between us like great big goatskin sacks full of hot 
butter. Like what? I asked myself. Great big goatskin sacks full of hot 
butter? Where had that image come from? It was certainly quite a good 
image, if you started from the premise that it was possible to make 
goatskin bags as big as that, and had the means of heating such a vast 
amount of butter to melting point. A minor point, but these things have to 
be considered.

Right now, there were other things on my mind. Despite all my 
schoolteacherly instincts, I was becoming terribly aroused. Wonderfully 
aroused. I was experiencing Uncontrollable Horniness at close range, and 
the effects of Shona were rubbing off on me. Was this a contagious form of 
Uncontrollable Horniness? A concept too ghastly to contemplate.

Our lips met, not at all softly. Shona's lips opened in a snarl and sucked my 
tongue almost out of my head into her mouth. It was getting drawn almost 
down her throat. She was almost swallowing my head. Don't struggle, Shan, 
I told myself, you'll only excite her.

 My arms were round her. Not very far round, but as far as they'd go, 
squashing into the yielding masses of girl flesh. I could feel wetness 
through my skirt, something soaking into my thighs, and realised that milk 
was flooding out of Shona's mighty nipples. It dribbled down on to my 
knees and trickled on down my legs. She screamed into my mouth and tore 
her head free, then yelled at the ceiling. She was shuddering, quivering in 
my arms. With a mighty rrrripppp, her nightdress split from top to bottom 
at both sides simultaneously.

Both vast breasts plunged out, much bigger now they were freed from 
captivity. At the same time, Shona's struggles began to die away. She 
heaved a few more great sighs, clutching at me spasmodically. To my 
surprise, she raised her lips to mine and kissed me with a tenderness and 
sheer eroticism that finally brought me to a comprehensive climax. Then 
she disentangled herself from me and stood back, swaying slightly.

To my surprise, or maybe not, I realised that Suzanne was still crouched at 
our feet. She had removed her hand from Shona's steaming, sopping nether 
regions and was examining her fingers with interest. She sniffed them and 
nodded with deep satisfaction.

"Fuck me, Sho," she said respectfully. "That was your best one yet!"

Shona shivered, and I watched the ripples run across her breasts to the 
nipples, which danced up and down entertainingly, little droplets of milk 
catching the light as they flew. Suzanne reached for the nearer of the two 
goatskin bags and applied her lips to the turgid nipple. Shona's eyes closed 
as slurping sounds filled the air. I became aware of the odour of sex, of 
fluids and arousal: Shona's and mine, and probably Suzanne's and Pansy's 
too.

"You still here, Pansy?" I said, in a voice not my own.

"Yes, Miss." Both her hands were up her skirt. I could tell she wanted a 
drink of Shona-milk as well, but was too shy to ask. What the hell, I 
thought, grabbing Shona's spare breast in both hands and hauling the 
nipple to my lips. It squirted into my mouth, sweet, like melon juice.

"Ooooooh, Miss!" It was Shona's voice, as if from far away. "Look at my new 
nightie. My Mum will kill me!"


**********

We had dumped Shona's exhausted body back on her bed and covered her 
with the duvet. Pansy went off to the lab, no doubt in a state of high 
arousal, Suzanne went with me to the toilets to find Anastasia. 

"There she is, Miss, in that cubicle, there. She always goes in the same one."

It was the end cubicle. Soft whimpering came from inside.

"Anastasia," I whispered through the door. The crying stopped, although 
she said nothing.

"Can you open the door, darling? Come on, it's only me."

It took almost a minute before soft rustlings came from inside the cubicle 
and the lock turned. I pushed gently on the door and it opened a little. 
Anastasia was perched, hunched on the toilet seat, her bare knees pressed 
together. Her shoulders and arms were bare.

"Come to me, darling!"

She looked up, tears glistening in her eyes. Still hunched up, she tried to 
stand up without revealing herself to me. With a sudden movement, she 
lunged forward and flung herself against me. I hadn't seen her breasts 
very clearly, but from here, I didn't need to. They were obviously back, 
with a vengeance. I cuddled her to me, holding her close, absolutely 
consumed with curiosity. We backed out into the room, where Suzanne 
stood watching.

"I've brought you one of my blouses, Staze," she said thoughtfully. "It 
ought to fit you."

Anastasia wiped a tear away and looked up at Suzanne. "Thanks," she 
whispered, reaching out a hand for the big blouse. She held it against her 
chest and looked up at me. "Miss," she said, "would you let me put it on in 
here, please?"

"Of course you can. We won't look." I let go of her and turned quickly 
away. Anastasia ducked quickly back into the cubicle. Suzanne and I just 
stood and looked at each other until she reappeared, her shoulders still 
hunched forward, buttoning the blouse. There was a lot of Anastasia inside 
it and the blouse bulged dangerously between the buttons. As fast as she 
did up one button, another came undone. In the end, she had to admit 
defeat, but she folded her arms across her chest. That didn't work, of 
course: her arms were thrust ridiculously far out from her chest, and her 
breasts were crushed against her body, trying to burst out in all directions.

She looked so scared, vulnerable and woebegone, I held out my arms to 
her again and she came to me, a lonely little girl.


**********

"Well?" said Moggie. "What's the latest news?"

"Thanks for seeing me, Miss. I saw Pansy and she told me there was a bit 
of a problem with two of the girls, Anastasia and Shona. Obviously they'd 
been creaming themselves."

"There's nothing wrong with that, even for First Formers. Kids grow up so 
quickly these days."

"They'd been experimenting with sexual chemicals, Miss," I corrected 
myself. "I found Shona in bed. She'd been trying to use the reducing cream 
that worked so well on Corinne. Unfortunately, it seems, Shona was so big, 
she ran out of cream. A pity, really." There had certainly been enough 
cream there to do a job on my haunches and flanks. "Anyway, meanwhile, 
young Anastasia had decided to make her breasts bigger again, after the 
shrinking cream had worked too well on her. So she made her own and 
took it in the bogs to put it on."

"Well? Did it work?"

"Only too well, I'm afraid. The usual problem. She used fifty grams of a 
vital ingredient instead of 0.5 grams. She's down with Clit and Flaps at the 
moment, getting a new bra."

"Ah, well," sighed Moggie, "no real harm done, then? Worse things happen 
at sea."

"They happen here, too. Shona used the cream that Anastasia had been 
using on her own chest to try and reduce it. Not only did it make her even 
bigger ..."

"... not Shona? She's a wheelbarrow case already ...!

"... but it also combined in some way with the reducer to bring about a new 
strain of the Uncontrollable Horniness. It comes and goes with enormous 
vigour every quarter of an hour. And I can vouch for its effectiveness. She 
hugged me and it affected me, too."

"You, getting Uncontrollable Horniness? Chauntaille, that I cannot believe!"

"It's true, Miss. I came by the pint. And Shona was trying to eat me alive, 
and she was coming in bucketfuls and spraying milk all over the dorm ..."

"MILK?"

"... and Suzanne was drinking the milk and she had her hand up Shona's ..."

"... you'd better sit down, Shan, darling. You're getting over-excited."

I slumped in the chair and Moggie wiped the sweat from my brow with 
her hankie in a solicitous manner. In an even more solicitous manner she 
gently raised my skirt and settled herself between my knees on the carpet. 
I regret that I had already discarded my panties on the way to the office. 
In fact, I was passing a classroom and Smegs had come bursting out, 
sniffing the air like a hound on the scent.

"I thought I could smell your puss, Shan," she had said, practically tearing 
the sodden garment down my unprotesting legs. "I'll take these, thank 
you!" Without a further word, she had disappeared back into the class 
again, leaving me standing, legs apart, with curious girls staring at me as 
they passed.

But I digress.

It possibly helped, not having any panties in the way, as Moggie was able 
to get straight to the point with thrusting tongue and trembling lips. I 
never take long at the best of times, and the morning's events had left me 
in a state of some enhanced receptiveness. It was three hours later when 
we staggered to our feet and Moggie shouted to Miss Labia for some coffee.

"Now, then," she said, stirring her cup. "Where had we got to?"

"I was describing Shona's orgasm. She'll have had a few more since then. I 
left her tied to her bed just in case she ran amuck and ravished somebody. 
The girl's got it bad. She was pretty intense."

"You had the cream analysed?"

"Both types, yes. As I say, Anastasia's was incorrectly mixed. And in 
conjunction with the reducer, it seems to induce Uncontrollable Horniness. 
Apart from that, there are no major problems," I concluded with some 
satisfaction.

"You say this reducer is the same cream that shrunk Corinne? And made 
her lose her memory?"

"The same."

"Ah!"

"Ah?"

"Yes. It seemed to work, didn't it? It made Corinne lose all the extra bust 
she'd grown, and made her waist and bottom smaller as well?"

"Of course. You saw her, didn't you!"

"But you haven't seen her today? Since breakfast time?"

"Of course not. I've been sorting out these Juniors. And getting fucked by 
you, Miss, of course."

"Of course. Thank you, by the way, Chauntaille. You are even more fragrant 
and even wetter than I have ever known you!"

I blushed prettily.

Moggie stared at me. "But you haven't seen Corinne? I think you'd better. 
She's probably lying down in her room. The nurse sent her there in mid-
morning."

"The nurse! What's the matter with her?"

"It's all right. She's fine in herself. In fact she's getting her memory back 
slowly. But some of the effects of some of the other chemicals are wearing 
off, too."

"What's happened to her, Moggie?"

"Let go of my throat and I'll tell you," she gurgled. "You'd better go and see 
her. I think she's going to need a bit of love and attention!"





Part XVI





Chapter 46:- Corinne Makes It Big


I sat for a moment, staring at Moggie. 

"You knew all this? You knew that Corinne had been sent back to her room 
by Nurse because she was ill. And you didn't tell me a word of it?" I got to 
my feet. I couldn't believe it. Moggie had known all along, yet she had gone 
down on me on this very chair. The puddle of my juices was still seeping 
insistently into the carpet. While my little Corinne was lying at death's 
door; for three hours, THREE HOURS, Moggie had lapped at my foaming 
moistness without so much as a word.

I stormed out, sending Miss Labia flying as I surprised her at the keyhole. 
She clattered in an undignified sprawl across her photocopier and a 
mushroom cloud of toner burst upwards from the bowels of the apparatus 
to descend as fall-out on her pristine white blouse. At any other time, I 
might have felt sorry for her.

Down the stairs two at a time, narrowly avoiding destroying a flock of 
Third Formers, girls of almost painfully indescribable beauty before whom 
I would normally have considered prostrating my pantie-less body; 
begging to be licked and sucked and pleasured to a noisy and flooding 
climax. Angrily, I elbowed the smelly little scumbags out of my way.

The bedroom was in darkness, the curtains drawn. I stood for a few 
moments inside the door, my eyes becoming accustomed to the dark. 
Corinne's humped form was on the bed, breathing softly and deeply. I 
tiptoed closer and sat on the edge of the bed, wondering what to do next. 
Corinne decided for me. She stirred in her sleep and her eyes opened. I 
could just see the startled whites as she looked around her.

"Shan?"

"Yes, my love. Are you all right?"

"I'm shattered," she said thickly, and worked her tongue around her 
mouth. "What's the time?"

"Just gone two."

"In the afternoon?" She tried to sit up, but sank back. "Oh, yes, daylight." 
She was silent for so long I began to think she'd fallen asleep again. "I'm 
beginning to remember things, Shannie. It's horrible!"

"Take your time." Her hand was hot where it lay on top of the duvet. It 
wrapped itself around my fingers like a little friendly animal. "Can you 
remember what happened?"

"About growing, and getting smaller again? Yes. It's hard to believe, but it's 
all up here in my head. That Amy rubbed cream on me and I grew 
overnight. Amy grew as well, didn't she?"

I nodded in the dim light. Corinne was remembering quite a lot.

"Then you rubbed me. I remember that." She squeezed my hand. "After 
that - today, was it? It's all a bit woolly still. I daren't look at myself, but I 
feel enormous."

"You what?"

"Shan? You don't know? I saw the nurse. I must have fainted in the 
classroom. I've got bigger again, Shan!"

I tried to see but she was beneath the covers and she clutched them to her 
neck. "No, not yet. I have to get used to the idea first. When I came here to 
St Cat's, I wanted to be bigger, I can remember that much. The idea of it 
was fantastic, it made me excited just thinking about getting as big as you. 
Or even bigger! But now, I'm not sure I can handle it, Shan."

I wasn't being much use, but I stroked her hand and she seemed to get 
some comfort from it.

"What did it feel like," I enquired, uncertainly. "When you were ill today?"

"It felt funny. Like nothing I ever felt before. Not unpleasant, really. In 
fact, for some of the time it felt great, amazing. Really sort of sexy. My 
nipples were buzzing, tingling, like little electric shocks, only it kept 
coming and going, and there were little tingly feelings running through my 
tummy, and lower down."

"Lower down?"

"Lower down!"

"Golly, Cee!"

"But it got so much I started feeling sick, it was so bad. Or so good. I don't 
know. And I could feel my bra getting tight, and adjusting itself, then it 
ran out of adjustment and just got tighter and tighter."

"It did?" My voice wasn't working properly. "That bra would nearly fit 
*me*!"

"I suppose you want to see?"

Was it as obvious as that, I wondered. With an effort, I tore my hand out 
from my knickers and wiped the dribble off my chin on a corner of the 
bed covers. "Oh? You mean, see?"

Corinne wriggled her bottom underneath her and sat upright, although she 
still kept the covers up to her chin. She gave a little shy grin and bit her 
lip. "It's funny. But I feel shy all of a sudden."

"What are you wearing under there?" I asked her, making polite 
conversation.

"Nothing. I managed to get my bra off before I got into bed. It would have 
exploded otherwise."

"ScatBras don't explode," I told her sternly.

"That one would've. Look at it. It's over there on the dressing table. It will 
never be the same again, I'm afraid."

I went over and picked up the sorry-looking bra. It was mangled. It looked 
as though it had been used for one of those traditional tug of war 
competitions where two rival villages try to pull each other into a river. 
"You've made a right mess of this," I scolded her.

"It's not my fault, Shan!"

"You could have taken it off before it got this bad."

"I couldn't. It got like that in the classroom, by the time I'd seen the nurse, 
and got over here, it was so tight I couldn't undo the velcro. My tits would 
have gone all over the place. I was trying to hold them in one arm while I 
undid the thing with the other hand. Anyway, what about my feelings? 
Why are you going on about my bra all the time?"

"Because it's not yours, it's mine!"

"Yours? You mean ...?"

"Yes. Look." I showed her the bra. "See that stain on the cup. I remember 
doing that the first day I got the bra. I spilled some wine on it. It's one of 
mine, all right. And you've completely buggered it."

"But that means ... I'm bigger than you. I can't have got that big without 
noticing."

"Even with selective amnesia that comes and goes when it feels like it? 
Come on, whip those covers off and let's have a look at you!"

I reached for the corner of the duvet and tugged hard. Corinne resisted for 
a moment, clutching the covers in both fists. I pulled more insistently and 
she looked down, away from my eyes. Slowly, she let go, and the duvet 
slipped down. At that stage, I could have plucked it away with a flourish 
like a matador's cape, but I stopped. Already, the tops of Corinne's breasts 
were revealed. A deep cleavage was visible, apparently bottomless. She 
looked up at me, her cheeks pink, her eyes moist and bright. She wet her 
lips.

"Don't you want to see the rest, Shannie?"

I was choking. Of course I wanted to see the rest, but all in good time. 
What I wanted most of all was to make love to this incredible girl. The bed 
creaked as I sat on the edge of it, and I noticed Corinne's half-amused 
glance as she observed the undiminished size of my bottom. There was an 
inconvenient amount of breast between us as I bent my head to kiss her 
lips. She turned to meet me and our tongues flirted like old friends. After a 
couple of minutes we had to pull apart from each other, there was far too 
much breast squashed between us, mine and hers.

We adjusted our positions and kissed some more. I would have been 
content to die and go to heaven, just like this. Thinking about it, though, in 
the light of my past record, I might have been destined elsewhere. But I 
just lay beside Corinne and went with the flow. The flow was as copious as 
usual, and I could feel the trickles running down the inside of my thighs.

"Suck me, Shannie," Corinne whispered suddenly.

"Do what?" I said, startled.

"Suck my nipples, suck my breasts, I need sucking, quickly, now! Please!"

It sounded pretty urgent. I swept the duvet off the rest of Corinne's body 
and crawled into a new position where I could reach her nipple. It seemed 
further down than I remembered. She gave a sharp little cry as I took her 
in my mouth, and the nipple, already quite swollen, became even more 
erect and turgid as I sucked on her. Corinne let out a great shivering moan 
and ... surely not ... I tasted a new sweetness in my mouth. I sucked more, 
feeling the puffy shape of her areola being drawn into my mouth. The 
sweetness was more intense, and there was definitely some liquid in my 
mouth now.

Corinne's hips began to move beneath my arm where I was supporting my 
weight. Her moaning was more insistent. "Milk me, Shan!" she whispered.

"MILK?"

I sat up suddenly, Corinne giving a little howl of dismay as her nipple 
slipped from my mouth and her breast flopped to the bed, sharp squirts of 
watery-looking milk spurting from its strawberry-sized tip.

"MILK?" I said again. It certainly was. "Cee, you're giving milk, look!"

"I fucking know," she growled hoarsely. "Now get back on that teat and 
suck me before I burst ...!" I started to obey. "NO! Do the other one, it's 
pouring out."

"I can't reach it, it's too far away!" Her other breast was lying on the bed 
beside her, on the far side of her body. To get to it I would need to climb 
over the nearer one.

"Shan, get up. Give me the left one. You carry on with the right one 
yourself. But give me the left one, I'll suck it myself." Corinne was at her 
capable best all of a sudden, and I felt my old friend Mr Spleen do a quick 
triple somersault.

After a brief moment of confusion while I worked out which was her left 
and which her right, I crawled on hands and knees - my own breasts 
trailing heavily on the bed - reached across and grabbed the enormous 
sack-like breast, and aimed the dribbling, squirting tip in the general 
direction of Corinne's eagerly reaching lips. She seized her breast between 
two tiny hands and began sucking deeply, while I resumed work on her 
right one, which seemed to have plenty more milk left for me.

"Ooooh, Cee!" I mumbled, through a mouthful of spurting tit.

"Shannie!" Corinne gave an urgent cry and I felt her hips bucking on the 
bouncing mattress as her orgasm came ever closer. With hindsight, I can 
reveal that mine was no more than twenty seconds away. We came 
tumultuously, shatteringly and loudly, even by our own exacting 
standards.

It didn't end there, of course. We continued to drink and come, drink and 
come back for more, and gradually, as the milk supply was exhausted, we 
sought each other's streaming girlhoods, licking and fingering each other 
until at last we lay, shattered, in total abandonment. It was some time 
before I could rouse the energy to roll off her and turn myself around so 
our heads were pointing the same way.

"Wow!" I said, inadequately.

"Wow," she agreed. We lay for a while, breathing heavily. "Can you give me 
a hand up, Shan. This bed needs changing."

I lowered my feet to the floor and stood with some difficulty; then turned 
round, my knees trembling, and looked down at Corinne where she was 
trying to raise herself to a sitting position.

"My God, Cee, look at you!"

"I am, I am. Isn't it terrible?"

"I suppose it is, yes." Actually, from where I was, it looked just fine. A bit 
improbable, but certainly quite entertaining. I offered her a hand and she 
eventually struggled to the edge of the bed, sitting there with her breasts 
resting one on each side of her thighs. The areolae and nipples were still 
distended from all the sucking and milking. "Here," I said. "Try to stand 
up."

She managed fairly well, all things considered, and stood looking up at me 
uncertainly.

"Will I be able to walk, do you think?" she asked.

"Not far. And you'll need a new bra straight away, of course. No good 
trying to walk down to the bra facility. We'll need to get Clit and Flaps up 
here to measure you." Was it my imagination, I wondered, or was it only 
her breasts which had grown again, grown to an unprecedented size? Her 
hips, what I could see of them, and ... I walked round behind her ... yes, her 
hips and her waist were both as small as they had been after the over-
enthusiastic rubbing I had given her with the shrinking cream. She seemed 
to be in grave danger of snapping in half across the middle.

"What am I going to wear?" she wailed, practical as ever.

"You can still wear your own skirts and jeans and stuff. I can probably find 
you a top that you could just about squeeze into. Maybe the school still has 
some maternity smocks in your height. We'll ask Clitty. You'll be all right, 
Cee!"

"But I'm vast, Shan! I'll need a wheelbarrow. Moggie will go ballistic. And 
I'm lactating! How often will that be. I'll need milking all the time. I can't 
keep asking you to suck me, can I!"

I didn't see why not. In fact, the very thought of anyone else doing it made 
me feel deeply jealous.

"Smegs will know," I reassured her gently. "She has plenty of experience of 
milking. And if I'm not around, or in class, there's sure to be some 
equipment you can use. Jeremy will have a couple of heavy duty breast 
pumps left over, I'm sure. The industrial ones, or the agricultural ones, all 
went down to Baps's Girl Dairy, but I'll bet he's kept some personal milk 
apparatus on hand in case of emergencies. Girls like Shona use them, I 
expect. You'll be okay! Give me the phone, I'll get busy!





Chapter 47:- It Wears Off Overnight


By next morning, Corinne was ready to face the world. Well, not the world, 
exactly, but the St Cat's restaurant at breakfast time, a far more gruelling 
ordeal than anything else on the planet. Clit had responded to my appeal 
for help and had come along with the biggest bra she could find in stock.

I recalled the scene from the night before.

"Luckily, it's a maternity model," Clit grinned. "We're finding these are 
getting very popular lately. There's a bit of milk about." She showed us 
how to open the front of the cups, and there was a highly diverting half 
hour which started when Corinne's nipples peeped out at the ends of the 
bra. Clit and I were unable to resist applying our lips to them, just to see if 
they still worked. They did.

"I'll take these wet knickers along to Miss Mountains on my way out," said 
Clit, gathering up the steaming heap of underwear.

"Not mine, you won't!" Corinne snatched the black silk pair from Clit's 
surprised fingers. "Those things cost money!"

"You mean you don't get them provided free?" Clit sounded horrified. "I'm 
surprised Miss Gruntworthy hasn't told you."

My fault, was it?

"Thirty hips? Twenty-nine! I'll bring you thirty-six pairs of silk, in your 
style. Same every week. Give me your wet ones. Don't bother going 
through Miss Mountains for this. We've got a little high class operation 
going. Nothing but the best. Pure silk. Not for the general export market. 
Just a Pasha somewhere in the Middle East. He'll go ape-shit once he gets a 
taste of these, Miss Meadowlark!"

"Oh, I don't know," said Corinne. "The thought of anyone with my panties, 
doing ... what *do* they do with them?"

Clit looked at me. I shrugged helplessly. "Do they wear them?" I guessed.

"Wear them? Thirty inch hips?" Clit shook her head. "Maybe on their faces. 
How would I know *what* they want them for. But so long as they pay 
what they're paying, they are welcome. Right, Miss, are you on?"

"I suppose so. Do you really want these?" Corinne held on to her panties, 
despite Clit having hooked a finger into the elastic waistband. They 
stretched enticingly between them and despite myself, I found that I was 
nuzzling the soggy crotch. I couldn't have done that with a pair of Smegs's, 
I thought.

"Excuse me," I said, and withdrew my face, blushing.

"Yes, please!" said Clit.

"Oh, all right, then."

"I'll send thirty-six pairs over tonight, soon as I get back."

She'd been as good as her word. The thirty-six pairs were in assorted 
colours and patterns, but even after weeding out some of the more bilious 
designs, Corinne declared that four pairs of silk knickers a day would be an 
undreamed-of luxury.

Now, with breakfast approaching, Corinne switched off the breast pump 
and disconnected her left nipple. I reluctantly let go of her right nipple and 
wiped my streaming lips on a towel.

"Smegs will go mad when she finds out," I predicted.

"She needn't know, if we're careful," said Corinne, closing the flaps on the 
bra cups to my deep sorrow. "Is this the shirt you said might fit me?"

"That's the one." I winced in sympathy for the shirt as Corinne shrugged 
into it and began to fasten the row of tiny mother-of-pearl buttons. The 
material bulged dangerously. Six buttons from the top, she stopped.

"That's about as far as I can get," she said. She tried a cautious breath and 
unfastened two of the buttons. "Wow. I should be able to get away with 
that, at least, until the milk comes in. How do I look?" She held her arms 
out to the sides but wisely decided against a twirl. 

"Unbelievable!"

She did, too. So did my poor shirt. It was only a shirt, but I felt a surge of 
pride in the thing, standing up to this sort of pressure without complaint 
and - so far - without splitting from top to bottom. From the top, where it 
leapt out in a quite ridiculous manner in front of her chest, revealing a 
cleavage tight enough to trap a five-pound note; to the bottom, where it 
overhung by several inches the miniscule waist of her straight dark navy 
skirt; my shirt was playing a blinder. It would never be the same again, for 
sure.

Corinne blushed prettily. "Do you like me like this?" she sked, fluttering 
her eyelashes and melting my loins.

"I could get used to it in time, darling!"

"Good! Just let me get used to it myself. You didn't mention to Smegs about 
the milk?"

"No. It would lead to awkward questions about your panties again. You 
know what she's like. Jeremy said you'll probably need milking every four 
hours or so. Perhaps that explains the traditional pattern of the school day. 
Milking before classes, again at lunchtime, again after school. Most 
convenient! It must have been arranged that way way back at the turn of 
the century to avoid causing undue embarrassment to lactating girls."

"I suppose so," she said. "Tell you what! I'm starving."

"You'll have to eat enough for two now," I reminded her, giving her a 
cautious squeeze as we headed for the restaurant.


**********

"Jeez, Pan, look at your Miss Meadowlark!"

"Suze, she's not MY ..." Pansy caught sight of her cousin's open mouth and 
turned quickly, in time to see Miss Meadowlark and Miss Gruntworthy 
entering the restaurant. "Christ!" she blasphemed.

The cousins weren't the only ones staring. The hall fell silent as the two 
vast-bosomed teachers wobbled and bounced to the cafeteria servery. The 
sight of Miss Gruntworthy on one of her more spectacular days was enough 
to bring a flush of admiration to a schoolgirl's face, but she was totally 
overshadowed by Miss Meadowlark this morning. No one was sure what 
had happened. The whole school had been agog, trying to keep pace with 
Miss Meadowlark's yo-yoing dimensions, but this latest development - 
literally development - had them flabbergasted. Gobsmacked, even.

"She's HUGE, Pan!"

"Who's done that to her?" Shona leaned forward across the table, her eyes 
alight. A wet patch had appeared on one of the girl's cow-sized udders. 
And the other one.

"You need milking, Sho," Suzanne pointed out, not unkindly.

Anastasia was animated, squirming her bottom on the chair. Her 
spectacular bosom rested before her on the table, one breast sitting 
heavily in a bowl of abandoned porridge. She hadn't yet noticed. No doubt 
she would get used to them in time, and learn to keep them from doing 
such things. Meanwhile, she gazed at Miss Meadowlark in barely-
suppressed excitement. Anastasia knew a little of the background to Miss 
Meadowlark's growth. She had, after all, helped Miss Gruntworthy with the 
mixing of the reducing cream.

"Somebody must have given her a dose of boob juice. Either that, or she's 
been creamed!"

The others looked at her blankly.

"Miss Gruntworthy and me, we made the reducing cream for Miss 
Meadowlark, that made her all skinny a couple of days ago. It worked 
great! Look at her skirt. Have you ever seen such a skinny waist, apart 
from Lim-Bim-Xuoyung Ng's? But she must have been pissed off that her 
boobs got too small, so she had them made bigger again. Somebody must 
have made her some boob cream."

More blank stares met hers.

"Well?" Anastasia looked from one face to another. "Who did it? It has to 
be one of you!"

"Not me," said Suzanne.

"Nor me," Pansy shook her head.

They all looked at Shona who was inspecting the growing wet patches 
round her teats.

"What's up?" she asked. "What, me? Mix boob cream? I'm staying away 
from that stuff!"

"Then who?" Anastasia bit her lip and looked at the three innocent faces. 
No deception, the other girls knew nothing about any boob cream. Suzanne 
and Pansy, for that matter, were still a bit sceptical about the very 
existence of such a thing. "But if nobody's mixed anything and given it to 
Miss Meadowlark or Miss Gruntworthy, you know what that means?"

The others waited for Anastasia's great revelation.

"It means the effect of the reducing cream is only temporary."

"Oh, shit!" said Suzanne, looking haunted by something.

"And worse than that ...!"

"You mean there's worse?" bleated Suzanne.

"When it wears off, it makes them even bigger than they were before! That 
might explain why I'm so huge now, 'cos I shrank before I got enlarged 
again." Anastasia sat back from the table, stretching herself. The other girls 
looked at her with interest as she ran her little hands around the massive 
curves of her swollen breasts. A distracted expression crossed her face.

"Somebody might have told me I had this dish of porridge stuck to my 
boob," she said crossly.

"We thought you were saving it for later," said Pansy.

Suzanne had gone strangely quiet. It was such a rare occurrence, the 
others looked at her in alarm. The girl's face was deep red and she was 
biting her fingernails.

"If that's true - about them growing again after they've been shrunk - 
that's terrible news," groaned Suzanne. She buried her face in her hands 
briefly. At last, she looked up at the others. "Last night, I went and rubbed 
reducing cream on Amelia Murgatroyd."

Pansy had gone quiet, too. When she confessed in turn, it was in barely a 
whisper. "I went and rubbed some on Sexy Amy. She asked me to. She said 
she was getting too big and they were getting in the way when she had 
sex. Whatever that means. I thought sex what something we all had all the 
time. It means like being a girl or a boy. Anyway, I told her she could rub 
it on herself, but she made me do it to her. I used half a tub on her. I 
haven't seen her yet this morning ..."

Shona was crying quietly. The other girls looked at her in dawning 
realisation. "Sho, you didn't ...?"

She nodded, unable to say anything. The ends of her breasts were soaked 
now, huge wet patches about a foot across. She pointed dumbly to her 
breasts and mimed a circular rubbing motion. In a faint croak, she said, "I 
rubbed some shrink on these, last night. They're smaller, all right, not that 
it really shows at all. But now ...!"

"What are we going to do?" Anastasia said at last. She was secretly 
congratulating herself on her decision not to try reducing herself after her 
most recent expansion. Even allowing for the tendency of her breasts to 
attract dishes of cold porridge, she was overjoyed with them. The thought 
of them ever getting smaller was not one that appealed to her. The thought 
that they might get even bigger brought a strange but exciting tingle to her 
front bottom, which was how she still thought of it. Meanwhile, for the 
time being, she was resigned to learning to walk all over again.

Anastasia thought about Amelia Murgatroyd, already a wheelbarrow case. 
She thought about the wildly over-sexed Sexy Amy, whose breasts were 
getting in the way during her nighttime adventures. And she thought 
about her dear friend Shona, already ridiculously overdeveloped. "What 
are we going to do?" she said again.

"We'd better see Miss Gruntworthy," sobbed Suzanne. "She'll know what to 
do."


**********

Why do they always come to me? Why do they assume I know about these 
things? The improbable quartet stood around the breakfast table. As ever, 
I found myself calculating their total bust measurement in feet. As ever, I 
disbelieved the result. Corinne and I stared up at them.

"You're leaking, Shona," I pointed out.

"Yes, Miss," she said, dully.

Nobody else said anything, and we remained transfixed, a grim little 
tableau.

"What's the problem, Suzanne," I said at last.

"Shrink, Miss!"

"Me?" I felt myself going pale. Only seconds before, Corinne and I had been 
discussing the effects of the reducing cream. We had decided it was 
perhaps a good thing I had not been tempted to rub any of it on my hips 
and thighs. Its effects were obviously not altogether predictable.

"No, not you, Miss," said Anastasia, coming to the rescue. "But it looks as if 
Miss Meadowlark has been using  reducing cream, Miss."

No point in denying it, after all. She'd helped me mix the stuff and she 
knew who it was for.

"Well, it seems to be temporary, doesn't it, Miss. And, begging Miss 
Meadowlark's pardon, Miss, it looks as if it makes your boobs even bigger 
once it wears off."

"It seems so," Corinne agreed with a heavy sigh. I glanced at her. She was 
obviously feeling the weight of those things, and it wasn't even half past 
eight in the morning.

"That's what we thought, Miss." Anastasia took a deep breath and a 
hitherto unnoticed dish of butter detached itself from the underside of her 
left boob and smashed on the floor at her feet. The other girls winced. 
"We've used reducing cream on some other girls, Miss. Some of the ones 
who were too big!"

"Go on," I said with a feeling of doom, and we all listened as Anastasia 
repeated the dread catalogue of names. Shona sobbed quietly throughout, 
getting several decibels louder as her own name was mentioned. She was 
still leaking, I noticed, the wet patches now a couple of feet across, and 
drips of milk were plopping unheeded into a spreading pool on the floor.

"Amelia Murgatroyd," said Corinne, heavily. She's going to need a bigger 
barrow.

"And Sexy Amy," I said. At least, Smegs wouldn't object if *she* grew a few 
feet.

"And Shona, Miss," groaned Anastasia. "Poor old Shona! If she gets any 
bigger, she might explode!"

Corinne and I looked at Shona with a sudden stab of fear. I wanted to duck 
down behind the table, but settled for making myself as small as possible. 
Corinne was already trying to hide behind a box of cornflakes. Suzanne and 
Pansy backed away a few paces, and Anastasia came smartly round behind 
me, peering at Shona over my shoulder while her new breasts squashed 
themselves heavily against my back. I supposed I would absorb the worst 
of the blast when it came.

Shona looked down at herself, as if wondering where *she* could take 
cover when it happened.

"Oh, shit, look at all this fucking milk," she wailed. "My Mum said she was 
going to kill me if I lactated all over another blouse."

"I shouldn't worry, Shona," I comforted her. "That blouse will be far too 
small by tomorrow morning."

She's such a cry-baby sometimes, that bloody girl. I really don't 
understand her.





Chapter 48:- Amazing Steam


Corinne stretched this way and that, then sighed in frustration. "I know 
they're lovely and everything, and they're so sensitive I could come right 
now just by looking at them", she moaned. "But how I'm going to get 
through the day, ScatBra or no ScatBra, I don't know. They're so huge, 
Shan!"

"And there's no way of making them smaller. Shrink only makes them 
grow bigger!" I stared at them, wondering if I could make Corinne come 
just by looking at them. She bit her lip and looked away, her hand straying 
to what Anastasia would perhaps have called her front bottom. Amazing as 
it seemed, my staring at Corinne's breasts hard enough seemed to have 
triggered an orgasm. Unfortunately, it appeared to be hers. I resolved to 
try this out again later. Meanwhile, we had classes.

"It's no use adding more counterbalance weights," she said, supporting 
some of the weight with an arm while she tugged a shoulder strap into a 
new position. "They're so heavy, they're nearly cutting my shoulders off. I 
suppose some well-meaning people might suggest I should do exercises to 
build up my muscles. They don't seem to realise that these tits are fifty 
times the normal size."

I held her from behind and she rested her cheek against mine. "Make me 
better, Shannie," she said softly.

"If only we could make them lighter ..." I mused.

"I'm not having anyone attacking them with knives ..."

"I wasn't thinking about cutting you about, Cee." The very thought made 
me feel ill. "I was just wondering. They're made of heavy stuff. If that stuff 
wasn't so heavy ...?"

Corinne turned to face me, and there was a massive collision of breasts. We 
staggered away from each other, gasping for air.

"Is this just an idea, Shan? Or have you done any work on this? I mean, if 
they only weighed half what they weigh now, they'd be fantastic! Just 
think, all this tit, and all this sensitivity, and that lovely horrible full 
feeling when the milk comes in, and the sheer sensation of the let-down ... 
wow! It would be ... But what's the use? There's nothing we can do. I'm 
stuck with these things unless I get some bastard surgeon to hack them 
off."

"Darling!" I held out my arms to her, and we carefully hugged each other. 
"It was just an idea, pet, but there may be something in it. I was thinking 
of getting the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group to look into it some time 
ago."

This could be the answer. My little bestest friend and lover was suffering 
from a pair of the biggest breasts in the world, attached to the most petite 
frame imagineable. I had to help her. Our lips met in a warm, wet kiss. We 
both sighed deeply. "Come on, sweetness. Let's go and teach these kids 
some of the facts of life. Who have you got this morning?"

"Fourths," she groaned. "The bra sizing system. As if it mattered to this lot. 
Most of them are custom sizes anyway, yet I still have to teach them how 
to measure themselves for a 34B."

"It's an area of deep mystery and ignorance, Cee! At least, St Cat's teaches 
its girls the rudiments of the system so they can advise other women they 
meet as they go through life. And men."

"Men? Tell me about it. They all think I wear a 120DD!" 

"Well," I said. "I've got two lots this morning. I have to divide myself 
between Fifth Form Positions in Sexual Congress (Advanced) and the First 
Form Sexual Chemistry Group."

"Advanced positions?" Corinne's eyes were glowing. "How advanced is 
that?"

"Pretty advanced. They're quite imaginative. All I need to do is make a 
suggestion or two and they're off and running. Still, I must dash. Got to 
hand out the strap-on cocks. Funny thing, there's never any argument 
about who is going to wear them. They always seem to divide themselves 
up into couples even before I arrive to start the lesson. Last week, I was 
three minutes late and the entire class was quietly getting on with its 
work. It restored my faith in modern youth."

"Golly, I wish I could have seen them!"

"Well, to be fair," I said. "They were getting on with their work, but they 
weren't showing a great deal of imagination. I counted at least six 
Missionary couples and four straight Doggies. But that's not the point. They 
got on with what they were doing, and as they finished, two by two, they 
rolled over and said, 'Good morning, Miss Gruntworthy!' Their big dewy 
eyes, the musky smell of their wet sex. They're really good girls."

"They sound lovely. But these strap-on cocks. I've never seen one. I was 
wondering ...?"

"Corinne! I am disgusted! And it wouldn't work for us. How would we ever 
decide which of us was going to wear it? They're very good, though. The 
Mark VII model actually *comes*!"

"It does?"

"I wish I had time to tell you the whole story. It wasn't developed here, 
but the designers - actually it was a Welsh girls' school where Miss Rhys 
ap Llewelyn Owen used to teach - decided we had the capability to 
develop and manufacture it."

"Gosh! And do we market it?"

"Not yet. It's a hell of a job. The Mark VII comes, but sometimes it comes 
far too soon. Sometimes it doesn't come at all, and goes all soft and floppy. 
What sort of girl would want to buy a cock like that?"

"I don't know," murmured Corinne. "A lot of them do."


**********

"We'll ask her when she comes in," said Suzanne. "She's got Fifth Form 
Fucking first."

Pansy gave a stir to a bubbling beaker. A cloud of heavy vapour rolled 
over the brim and settled on the bench top in a swirling fog. Papers curled 
up at its touch. "I don't see that it could work. It's a great idea, sure, but 
how could we turn fat into something not as heavy. Without surgery. You 
want to make a sort of cream a girl could rub on, and her boobs would stay 
the same size but get lighter?"

"It was only a thought. Just to see if it's possible." Suzanne studied the 
rolling cloud of vapour which had spread over the edge of the bench and 
was trickling down her legs. It tickled, strangely. "What is that stuff you're 
mixing, Pan?"

"I don't know," Pansy admitted. "Anastasia got me to help her finish it off 
while she went to see the nurse about her periods. She says it's called 
Lube."

"Lube?"

"It's for rubbing on your pussy when you feel like fucking. She wanted to 
call it JY Kelly."

"Why?"

"Dunno. It's just a name."

"No, not the name, although it's pretty stupid. Why do you need Lube to 
fuck?"

"I suppose the boy spreads it on his nose so it slips in easier. Don't ask me. 
Fucking's over-rated, if you ask me."

"You can't be doing it right, then. Did Staze say she was going to try it out 
for herself? She's a quiet one, you can never tell what she might do. In fact 
..." she looked around the lab and lowered her voice. "I bet she's gone to 
the nurse to get put on the pill. She's got these huge tits and now she 
thinks boys are going to be crawling all over her to get fucked. And this 
Lube stuff is for *her* to use." 

Pansy noticed the cloud of vapour for the first time. It had surrounded 
Suzanne's legs like a shroud, clinging and eddying. It had stained her white 
socks a vivid yellow and was trying to force its way up her brief skirt.

"Golly, Suze," she said. "Look at that steam!"

Suzanne had slightly parted her legs and the Steam appeared to sieze its 
opportunity, rolling in creamy folds in between her meaty thighs.

"Bloody hell, Pan!" she cried. "Oooh, it tickles! OOOOOooooooooh!" Suzanne, 
red-faced and panting, sank back against the bench, clutching at herself. 
"What was that?" she asked weakly.

"I think you just had one of those organisms, Suze. This Steam did it. It got 
between your legs. Gosh! It's good stuff." She had hoisted her skirt to her 
waist and was following the cloud of vapour around the lab, trying to 
straddle it with her thighs. Other girls watched her in amazement as she 
pranced around. Sadly, the cloud of Steam seemed to have lost interest in 
girls.

Pansy returned to her cousin, frustrated.

"Stop touching yourself, Pan," said Suzanne, sternly, "you'll get spots."

"I don't care," said Pansy. "I want some of that stuff." She stirred the 
beaker with vigour, but it was apparently a spent force. "Fucking thing," 
she snarled. "Typical!"

"Have you seen Sexy Amy since breakfast," asked Suzanne, to change to a 
less delicate subject.

Pansy was still fondling the crotch of her white St Cat's panties in a jaded 
way. At last, she admitted defeat and lowered her skirt to mid-thigh. "No," 
she said. "Perhaps she's sick. Whatever, if the shrink did work, she'll be 
smaller this morning. If she gets bigger again, it will be later, like this 
afternoon. Same as Amelia Murgatroyd. Have you seen her?"

"Only from a distance. She was walking! There was her and a bunch of 
other girls from the Fifths, and Amelia didn't have her wheelbarrow with 
her. So she must have shrunk. They were going to Miss Gruntworthy's 
Fucking Class, so maybe she'll be able to tell us when she come in. But 
talking of shrink, where's Shona?"

"She had a nail in her tyre. She said she was seeing Jeremy to get it 
pumped up. Can you imagine how uncomfortable it must be, driving your 
wheelbarrow over rough ground with a flat tyre. It must be really 
painful!"

Suzanne touched her breast abstractedly as she considered the thought. 
She was still recovering from her recent affair with the cloud of horny 
Steam, wondering if it had really happened. "It will be a whole lot more 
painful by this afternoon, when her tits have grown again. They were a 
tight fit in that barrow as it was!"


**********

Of course, I was late for the Fifth Form Fucking class, although I shouldn't 
really call it that. It would be terrible to think that the girls might call it 
such a horrid name. It was Corinne's fault I was late. She kept asking 
questions about the strap-on cock. She even wanted to know what size 
they were, as if it mattered!

"It can't be unimportant," she said, "how big are they?"

"They're all sizes. From so big ... right up to ... this size."

"But what about the average size?"

"Cee, they're ALL average sized!" Sometimes I begin to wonder if she's as 
intelligent as she pretends to be.

I told her that usually the less gifted girls tended to go for the bigger ones, 
while the brighter girls just took what came. But she still kept asking 
questions about the size of the stupid things, until I got quite snappy with 
her and made an excuse to leave.

As I knew they would be, the girls had quietly got on with their work. It 
was encouraging to see that some of them were putting into practice the 
positions they had learned the week before. I strolled round the classroom, 
giving encouragement and advice, patting a shapely bottom here, caressing 
a plump breast there.

"Excellent finish, Jessamine. Nice to hear really smooth panting like that." 
The girl in question blushed prettily.

"Amelia! I scarcely recognised you. You're so slim! Been working out?"

"A bit, Miss," she admitted, shamefaced, then she brightened. "Most of it 
was down to the cream young Suzanne rubbed on me. Overnight, I lost 
pounds!"

"You look great on it, my dear. Well, carry on fucking, or whatever you 
were doing."

Amelia wasn't very good at it, unfortunately. She seemed to lack co-
ordination in her lower limbs. Her partner's strap-on appendage kept 
slipping out in a manner which, in real life, would have been too painful to 
contemplate. It was a cue for me to slip out of the classroom and make my 
way to the lab. A chance to discuss a means of making fat lighter. I would 
sow the seeds and let them ripen in the fertile minds of the First Form 
Sexual Chemistry Group. 


**********

The girls seemed excited about something. They were all talking at once.

"How's Amelia, Miss?" Suzanne wanted to know.

"I've got to go on the pill, Miss," said Anastasia. 

"My Mum's going to kill me again, Miss," said Shona.

"I've made some great Steam, Miss, it gives you organisms," said Pansy.

Although Pansy's revelation seemed potentially the most interesting, I 
decided to take questions in strict rotation, clockwise from Suzanne, easily 
the loudest.

"I was wondering about Amelia Murgatroyd, Miss. Has she shrunk?"

"Yes, she has, Suzanne, and she looks very well on it, although perhaps we 
ought to reassess the situation later today. You had a question, Shona?"

"Not a question, Miss. I said my Mum was going to kill me again, if I ruined 
another blouse with milk, Miss. Well, I have. The milk's made it shrink."

"That may be true, Shona. Or it may mean that you have started to get 
bigger already. I would be prepared to take your blouse off if you want to 
avoid ripping it to shreds. Not that it will be much use to anyone else, a 
blouse as big as yours. Anastasia, what did you say?"

"Nurse says I have to go on the pill, Miss! She says if I'm going to get laid 
every night, it might be better if I didn't keep getting pregnant."

"I can't fault Nurse's reasoning, Anastasia, but her moral stance is 
questionable. I am not sure that an eleven-year-old girl, even one with 
your undoubted physical attributes, ought really to be getting laid every 
night."

"Oh, Miss!" Anastasia sounded so crestfallen I almost relented.

"What about you, Pansy?"

"I was mixing Anastasia's JY Kelly ..."

"Anastasia's what ...?"

"Her Lube, Miss. It was while she was away seeing Nurse, and all this 
Steam came out and went up Suze's skirt and gave her an organism, Miss. I 
tried to get it to do it to me, but it would only work once."

"You never told *me*, Pan," said Anastasia, aggrieved.

"You never asked. You were too busy talking about getting laid."

"Well, that was my Steam, you had no right giving it to your cousin."

"I wouldn't have given it to her if I'd know what it was going to do. And 
anyway, it was the Lube you wanted, not the Steam. Steam is a by-
product. And you've got the Lube, in that beaker."

Anastasia dipped a finger into the beaker and inspected the greasy 
deposit. She sniffed it cautiously before swiftly raising her skirt and diving 
into the dimmest recesses of her underwear. An expression of deep 
content came over her face, her nipples became noticeably erect and her 
glasses steamed over.

"Bloody hell!" she said. I was tempted to try some of that myself but 
remembered my position. I was forced to watch helplessly as the other 
three girls each took a finger-full and followed Anastasia's example. "Sorry, 
Miss," said Anastasia with regret. "There's none left for you. You'd take 
loads of it, anyway, being so big."

"My clit's not big," I pouted, and I was on the verge of going into one of my 
sulks when I realised that we could always mix some more. "Mix some 
more, Pansy," I ordered. "Ten times as much as last time."

Pansy willingly set to work and I resolved to keep a close eye on the 
proceedings so as not to miss the arrival of the Steam.

"Now, Suzanne," I said as soon as the others were busy. "I've got an idea I'd 
like the group to work on." And I explained in broad and simple terms 
about the new Lite fat. Suzanne seemed to catch on surprisingly quickly.

"I already started working on it, Miss!" She showed me several pages of 
scribbled notes. "I stopped working on it when Shona's shrink started 
working. Do you want me to carry on?"

"Yes, please, Suzanne. Consult with me at every stage, and don't go testing 
it on anyone, even Shona. Especially Shona," I said, noticing that Shona had 
already removed her blouse and was inspecting the various fastenings of 
her immense bra with apprehension. It creaked ominously as she 
breathed. I made my way round behind one of the stouter benches and 
cowered down. Around the lab, other girls were putting away glassware 
and opening windows to let out the blast when it took place.

I knew I should be setting a good example to the girls, but on the other 
hand, it would be better if I survived the explosion to render first aid and 
bereavement counselling to the survivors. On hands and knees behind the 
bench, I continued to brief Suzanne on the subject of Lite.

"A nice, easily-applied cream would be best," I said, "and don't make it too 
strong. Better it should take ten small applications than one. Good? Carry 
on."

Suzanne, Pansy and Anastasia seemed oblivious to the fast-expanding 
Shona, who was now alone in the middle of the lab. The cups of her bra 
were cutting deeply into the creamy whiteness of her flesh. "Undo it! Undo 
the bra!" I urged her, but she seemed unable to move a muscle to help 
herself.

Meanwhile, Pansy was stirring the Lube mixture, and clouds of vapour 
were starting to roil up out of the depths of the big beaker.

"Here it comes," shouted Pansy in excitement, and she hoisted her skirt up 
round her waist. Anastasia followed suit. Suzanne cackled wickedly and 
did the same. Viscous vapour came pouring and surging out of the beaker, 
flowed across the bench and poured liquidly over the edges. The girls 
applied their nether regions to the vapour in quite disgracefully lewd 
manner, elbowing me rudely out of the way as I tried to get my share.

There was no need to worry. Pansy had mixed enough for all of us. Four 
female voices rang out in different keys as we orgasmed luxuriously. The 
class looked on in envy, especially at their teacher, who was well-known 
and respected for her multi-orgasmic capability.

"Bloody hell," I shuddered, minutes later. "Give me the formula for that 
stuff, at once."

I was so shattered by my ordeal that I was too late to grab a finger-full of 
the residue and apply the soothing balm to my engorged and quivering 
thingie. As a result, I was still shuddering, on hands and knees, 
contemplating a further orgasm just for old times' sake, when a shadow 
fell across the light. I looked up and received a spray of girl-milk in my 
face.

"Ooops, sorry, Miss. I didn't see you under there. I didn't actually explode, 
Miss, see?"

Shona sounded happy not to have exploded. The other girls seemed 
pleased, too, emerging from cover with giggles and catcalls of relief.

"I've stopped, Miss. I think this is as big as I get!"

Shona stepped back a few yards until she could see me on the floor in 
front of her. Milk was jetting from her nipples in two little sprays, arcing 
through the air to splash on the floor. More milk was dribbling down her 
purple-brown areolae, trickling on to the huge curves of the undersides of 
her breasts, then forming streams down her thighs, round the insides of 
her knees and down her calves to flow over her socks. Her shoes were 
already overflowing, I noticed. A dreadful waste. It was as well Smegs 
wasn't here to see it.

"You'd better see if anyone wants your wheelbarrow, Shona," I said. "You'll 
never get into it now."

She began to realise what I was saying. "Oh, Miss. It was such a lovely 
wheelbarrow."

"Never mind, darling. You've still got your friends. You need your friends 
at a time like this. And you're going to need at least six friends to carry 
those things. Three each side. Get them to take you down to the bra 
facility, and have a new blouse made while you're there. But I'm very 
much afraid your Mum's going to kill you."






Part XVII





Chapter 49:- Toria's Return


A small but noisy and agitated crowd of Second Formers had gathered 
round the notice board. It took some time to elbow them politely out of the 
way to see what they were getting so het up about.

"What's it mean, Miss?" asked one girl, plaintively. I curled my lip in an 
unpleasant snarl and gave her a blast of scorn.

"Can't you read, four-eyes?" I enquired.

"No, Miss", she replied meekly. "Your breasts are in the way, Miss."

A typically lame excuse. I approached the notice board until my breasts 
contacted the wall and squashed inwards several inches. The notice was 
still too far away to read. Why couldn't that bloody Labia woman use a 
larger typeface? Fortunately, one of the less disadvantaged girls was 
reading it out loud.

"Avoid Reducing Cream," she read. "Girls are advised that the present batch 
of Breast Reducing Cream obtainable from the First Form Sexual Chemistry 
Group is corrupt and should not be used." A gasp went up from the girls.

"Corrupt?"

"Oh, shit!"

"What's 'corrupt' mean?"

"This means," continued the Oracle, "that although the cream appears to 
work satisfactorily at first, with substantial reductions in breast size as 
well as the size of other body parts, the effects are temporary."

"Temporary? Oh, no!"

"Oh, my God!"

"Those rotten First Formers!"

"Furthermore, when the breast tissue grows again, there will generally be 
an increase to between 10% and 50% in excess of the ORIGINAL size. 
Students are warned that their rights to subsidies on larger brassieres, 
blouses, extended neckties and wheelbarrows will be affected if they are 
found to have employed Breast Reduction Cream in contravention of this 
notice."

The girls had rather a sing-song reading voice, but she handled the longer 
words nicely.

Silence fell. I formed the distinct impression that some of the girls in this 
group had already used the cream themselves, probably during the last 
few hours. There were certainly one or two girls in the group who would 
have been described - at any school other than St Cat's - as considerably 
overdeveloped. The truth was written in their faces. They were blushing, 
not at all prettily.

The consensus of opinion was that their Mums would kill them.

"Have you used this cream, Salacia?" I asked one heavy-set girl. She 
nodded. "And you, Oksana?" Another nod. "Well," I said, to cheer them up. 
"You may find that your other parts will remain smaller after your busts 
grow again. It's a dark cloud that has no silver lining. Although your 
families will find themselves paying the full price for your next bras and 
blouses. It's a case of swings and roundabouts. A chicken and egg 
situation."

"Sort of Catch 22, Miss?"

"Probably," I admitted, vaguely, and made my way up the corridor with all 
the dignity I could muster. Each of the other public notice boards had its 
little crowd of girls, and from what I could gather, quite a number had 
been using the Breast Reduction Cream. I would have to have a serious 
word with young Suzanne. The opportunity came sooner than I expected.

"Ah, Suzanne! A brief word, please!"

She had tried to flee when I came round the corner, but had collided with 
the doorway with a great rubbery splosh of entirely unenhanced breast. 
She staggered back into my path, breathing heavily.

"A word, Miss? With me?"

"Reducing Cream. Shrink. Have you been selling it?"

"No, Miss!" She quivered in righteous indignation. "I never heard of such a 
thing, Miss!"

"One of the girls said you did her for two pounds," I said, craftily.

"Two pounds?" Suzanne shrieked. "It's a fiver a go. Who's been 
undercutting me? Anyway, we were going to cut you in on the profits, 
Miss, as you helped us mix it and everything." She fished under her skirt 
and emerged with a roll of grubby notes from somewhere. "Here's a 
tenner, Miss. Your share."

The money was warm and smelled powerfully of girl. I thrust it back at 
her, but she refused to take it. At last, rather than throw it away, I slipped 
the note into my cleavage, and Pansy appeared from round the corner with 
a camcorder over her shoulder. She gave a thumbs up sign to her cousin.

"It's all gone, anyway, Miss," said Suzanne. "And we only had enough to do 
about twenty girls. Maybe two dozen at the most. And they all needed it."

"Needed what?" I yelled, heedless of the crowds of curious girls passing. 
"Needed smaller breasts? They're going to finish up even bigger. Their 
Mums are going to kill them."

Some of the passing girls began to cry. Well brought-up girls, they were 
strangers to such violence. Throughout their lives they had been gently 
cossetted, cocooned, buttressed against harsh reality. They probably even 
thought all girls everywhere had huge breasts like their own.

I lowered my voice and scowled menacingly at Suzanne and Pansy. "You 
have not heard the last of this," I told them. "It is a disgrace."

"All right, then, Miss," sighed Suzanne, producing her roll of money again. 
She peeled off three more five pound notes and tucked them into the 
neckline of my blouse. "Twenty-five, Miss. Sorry, Miss!"

"That's better, Suzanne." I patted my bodice to make sure the money was 
safe. "We'll say no more about it, then. Off you go!"

I watched them bounce away. Children today! I shook my head. Twenty-
five girls at a fiver each, split five ways ... and she'd offered me a measly 
ten pounds. Did they think I was still wet behind the ears?


**********

"Miss Gruntwurvy! Wot a surprise, innit, Flaps? We was just saying we 
hadn't seen our Miss Gruntworthy for ages, and she turns up." Clit looked 
me up and down. "Whatcha want? New bra?"

"No, not me. I'm still the same size."

"Yer arse ain't," said Flaps, rudely. "You're gettin' a right fat pig!"

"Don't mind her," Clit comforted me. "It's her time of the month again. It 
comes round every week. Mind you, you *are* getting a bit of a backside 
on yer. And a gut, too." She prodded my stomach none too gently and 
patted my bottom hard enough to make everything quiver. "Not enough of 
the right kind of exercise, my girl, that's your trouble."

An hour later, after a session of the right kind of exercise, I struggled back 
into my skirt. It was unfair, Clit and Flaps never needed to undress nor 
dress again afterwards; one of the advantages of working in the nude.

"There's one thing about you having such a big bum, Miss Gruntwurvy," 
sighed Clit as the last of my generous rump disappeared from view, 
"there's plenty to hold on to."

I blushed prettily.

"Right, then," enquired Flaps, looking at the clock, "what was it you came 
for?"

It wasn't easy to remember. I was still buzzing away down below, as if one 
of them had left a vibrator inside me. Tingles ran all over my body from 
my nipples. I shuddered helplessly a few times.

Clit watched me with interest. "Your friend come in yes'day, your Miss 
Meadowlark. She's fuckin' enormous! Miles bigger than you, now. And only 
tiny, and skinny. I nearly flooded the place out, just measurin' her." Clit 
was touching herself as she replayed the memory. "What happened to her, 
growing like that?"

I had suddenly remembered the purpose of my visit. "It's a new cream 
we've been trying out. It makes you smaller, all except for your boobs. It 
seems to make them bigger."

"Cor, we'll have a gallon of that, won't we, Flaps?"

"No, it's all gone," I said. "The First Form Sexual Chemistry Group used it all 
up on some of their friends in the Seconds and Thirds. There will be about 
twenty five girls coming to you, tomorrow, for bigger bras and new 
blouses. Anything from fifty inches upwards. Are you prepared?"

Flaps threw down her scissors and swore bitterly. "Fuckin' place," she 
complained. "We no sooner get on top of our stocks and they grow another 
bunch of kids to some stupid size. What's up with them?"

"Don't you mind her," Clit giggled. "Soon as she gets her tape measure 
wrapped round some of them nubile tits and arse-holes, she'll be 'appy as 
a pig in shit. Send 'em over, we'll fit them up okay. In fact ..." Clit began to 
rummage under her work bench. "'Ere, try this for size!" She handed me a 
bile-green bra in a plastic bag. "Not NOW!" she yelled, as I started climbing 
out of my blouse again. "If you get that lot out, I'll have to fuck yer for 
another hour, and we're pushed for time as it is. Try it later, in yer room. 
And tell us what you fink."


**********

Corinne watched me with interest from the bed. She had just finished 
pumping her breasts when I came back into the room. "Oh, shit!" she had 
said. "If I'd know you were coming, you could have sucked this lot instead 
of me using that that bloody pump. What's in the bag?"

"New bra of some sort. Clit gave it me to try." I unwrapped the plastic and 
held the thing up.

"Nice colour", said Corinne, and I looked at her quizzically. "Compared to 
some of their stuff," she said. I supposed it was a slight improvement. Bile-
green was a great improvement on diarrhoea-brown. I held it against my 
chest. Where are the ends?" she asked.

"God knows. This is the first time I've seen it. What's it say on the bag?"

The bag bore the usual ScatBra logo, and the legend 'FreeTips', in a flowery 
script. That was all, apart from the size.

"FreeTips?" Corinne gave a giggle. "Does that mean what it sounds like? It 
looks as if your nips stick out of the ends of the cups! Golly! Talk about 
peek-a-boo!"

It looked that way to me as well. Somehow, I couldn't see this being the 
best idea I'd ever heard of. My nipples were so sensitive, I needed steel 
toecaps on the ends of my bra, not my nipples waving around in the wide 
blue yonder. I took my blouse and bra off, and prepared to dangle my tits 
into the FreeTips ScatBra.

"God, it feels really weird!"

"It looks fantastic, Shannie!"

I took a look in the mirror. Fantastic seemed to sum it up fairly well. The 
holes in the ends of the cups were about six inches in diameter, so the 
whole of my areolae protruded into the fresh air. The pressure forced 
them into a really bizarre, exaggerated shape, and the nipples, already 
erect, leaped out like guided missiles.

"Fuck me," I said in awe.

"I was just going to," panted Corinne, "come here at once!"

It took a few more seconds to get my skirt off and I wiggled across to the 
bed dressed only in the new bra, my panties and my shoes and stockings. 
Quite why I had worn heels this morning, I didn't know, but it seemed a 
wise choice now, since it gave me the appearance of an absolute slut.

"Hello, darling!" I purred huskily, crawling on all fours across the bed 
covers.

"Aaaargh!" said Corinne, clawing at me. I think she was aroused about 
something. It must have been the milking that turned her on so much. "I 
want one of these," she said, plucking at the straps of the bra.

"Have this one if you like." I fumbled with the fastenings.

"I'd never get into it."

"You could always try. You might be surprised!"

Off it came, and my tits flopped to the bed. The nipples felt like nothing I 
had ever felt before.

"Give me a hand with it, Shan." Corinne sat up and turned her back, passing 
the two ends of the band back to me beneath her arms. She gasped as I 
heaved the ends together and attached the heavy duty velcro. "Bloody hell, 
it's tight!" She began to adjust the shoulder straps, the way women always 
do. At last, she peered over her shoulder at me. "You ready for this?"

"Turn round, Cee! Quick!"

She turned round slowly.

"Jeeeeezussssss!" I said.

Corinne's creamy breasts were compressed into the huge cups. The nipples 
and areolae were being forced out of the holes at the ends like chocolate 
cream coming out of an icing bag. Even the amount that was protruding 
was probably far too big for the largest ready made bra you could go to a 
store and buy. And it didn't just protrude, it bulged out, almost obscenely.

The flesh left inside the bra was trying to escape by every other available 
exit; under the cups in great big crescent moon shaped handfuls; beneath 
the arms; and at the top, in the form of a mighty cleavage nine inches long 
and who could even begin to guess how deep.

"It doesn't fit too well," complained Corinne, "but maybe if I could get one 
in my size ...?"

She said no more as my lips fastened on to one of her nipples, engorged 
and thrusting. It seemed to fill my mouth. I tasted the sweetness of her 
milk, a drop or two at first, then a trickle, then a flood. Our lower limbs 
were getting in an unimagineable tangle as we squirmed together in 
ecstasy.

We never even heard the knock on the door, we were making so much 
noise. We never even noticed we were no longer alone until something like 
half an hour of strenuous loving had passed like a flash.

I nearly hit the ceiling.

"Amy! How long have you been in here?"

Sexy Amy glanced at her watch. She was sitting in a chair across the room, 
a wad of exercise books held across her chest. "Twenty minutes," she said. 
"Hey, Miss. Fantastic bra! Pity about the size. Could I get one like that, do 
you think?"

"What did you want, Amy? You've been told before about coming to the 
teachers' quarters."

"Just some hints, Miss, if you don't mind. I'm on the pill now, and I thought 
I ought to ..."

"You're what? You're on the pill?"

"It's okay. I saw Nurse. She says I'm old enough and I'm certainly big 
enough. Hey, you know I used that Reducing Cream? Dumbest idea I ever 
had. Anyway, it wore off, the way it does. And look!"

She lowered her exercise books and revealed herself. She'd certainly had 
good value from the Reducing Cream. Corinne was staring at her, too, a 
droplet of milk about to fall from one nipple. I watched it, mesmerised, 
and I was quite disappointed when Corinne scooped it up with a finger and 
transferred it to her mouth. We both gazed at Sexy Amy, who had gone 
pink. She was one girl who I thought would have completely forgotten how 
to blush.

"What do you think, Miss?" she said quietly. "I'd love a bra like Miss 
Meadowlark's. I could really pull the boys with that."

"Amy, somehow I don't think pulling the boys is going to be a problem."

"You don't, Miss? Nurse was saying it's really hard. She says they don't 
take any notice of you. That's why I'm not wearing a bra. Do you think it 
shows enough, or should I tweak my nips a bit more? We're going to town 
on the bus, Toria and me. We've got a pass from Miss Thunderbolt."

"Toria as well? Has she seen the Nurse, too?"

"She's over at Sick Quarters seeing her now. That's why Miss Thunderbolt's 
given us both the afternoon off, to get used to being impregnable. So 
anyway, I thought I'd come and see if there were any good chat-up lines I 
could try - just to get the boys to look at me."

I was beginning to feel faint. We never had this trouble at St Cat's in the 
old days. Perhaps society had changed. Boys certainly always looked at me 
- although perhaps not when I was in the Third Form.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," called Corinne. 

It was Victoria.

"Tremendous bra, Miss Meadowlark," she enthused, her nipples hardening 
instantly into big points.

Corinne blushed prettily.

"I'm on the pill, Miss," Victoria said to me, as if to ask what I was going to 
do about it.

"That's great news, Toria. But you must still take precautions, you 
understand. Remember what you learned in Sex."

"I've got it all written down, Miss!" Victoria patted her bag confidently. "I 
will get a boyfriend, won't I, Miss?"

"Well, it's a game of glorious uncertainty, Toria. If we knew we were going 
to score, it would take half the fun out of it, wouldn't it?"

"No, Miss," she said dangerously. "You remember what you said? Wasn't it 
that time when I gave you a damned good spanking?"

Sexy Amy looked at me with sudden interest.

So did Corinne.

I blushed with shame and a certain amount of arousal.

"You said you weren't going to give me huge tits," Victoria continued, "so I 
asked you could I have a boyfriend instead, and get fucked absolutely 
rigid?"

"I never promised you that, Toria."

"Ooooh, you rotten liar, Miss! You did."

"I told you not to worry about your breasts, because they'd grow on their 
own. I seem to have been right, don't I? They're rather huge."

She sneered unpleasantly. "Yeah, look at them. But they're still not as big 
as Sexy Amy's. They're still not as big as my baby sister's. I want a 
boyfriend!"

"Toria, don't be silly ... why can't you have some real girl-fun? Same as all 
the others. You could fuck Amy ...!"

Sexy Amy licked her lips and nodded eagerly.

"Oh, you're gross, Miss. Who wants to fuck a girl?"

Amy, for a start, I thought. She was beginning to pant and squeeze her 
breasts. She seemed to be radiating moist heat as she stood there. Corinne 
and I both reached out to her, imploring her to come to bed and make 
heaving, shuddering love.

But not Toria. She was obviously some kind of sick pervert. "No, listen. A 
boyfriend, this afternoon, not just a quick shag behind the bus shelter. A 
fulfilling, adult relationship. I want to move in with someone. So does Sexy 
Amy," she added for good measure.

Sexy Amy opened her mouth to say something, but decided to go with the 
flow.

"Right, Miss?" Toria took her friend by the arm and steered her toward the 
door. "We'll be back on the eight o' clock bus. I want to be fixed up by 
then, or you are in deep shit, okay?"





Chapter 50:- The Whores of St Cat's


Corinne and I had hardly got back into our stride again, when there was 
another knock on the door. "Who is it this time," I said, struggling upright 
and watching in dismay as Corinne slid off the bed in a top-heavy sprawl 
on the rug. This sort of thing happened all the time with her new weight 
distribution.

She picked herself up and shouted, "Come in!"

"Megan, hi!" said Corinne, searching for her panties. Hardly worth 
bothering, I thought, but if it made her feel more comfortable, who was I 
to stand in her way. I handed them to her, and Smegs's eyes lit up as the 
scrap of sheer silk changed hands.

"No you can't," I said as Smegs thought about saying something. "They're 
real silk, and far too expensive for you to sell to Japan."

Smegs shook her head sadly. "Lovely bra, Corinne!" she said. "Really suits 
you."

Twenty minutes of hectic romping since the two Third Form girls had 
wiggled from the room had made Corinne's bra even less of a perfect fit 
than before. So much of her was bursting out of the peek-a-boo cups that 
it was distinctly worrying. How was she going to get the bra off again?

Smegs took out a lacy handkerchief and wiped a trace of dribble off her 
chin. The sight of Corinne was affecting her quite deeply. I realised at the 
same time as Smegs that what she was using to wipe herself wasn't a lacy 
handkerchief. "Oh, shit," she exclaimed. "Young Pam's knickers. I hope I 
haven't diluted her juices too much ..." She sniffed at the little garment 
tentatively before tucking it away into the top of her shirt. Something 
seemed to remind of the purpose of her visit.

"Did you see those two kids earlier? Toria and Sexy Amy?"

"What about them?"

"They seem to have gone to town on the bus. They went walking up the 
drive, wiggling their bottoms about a yard and a half to each side, skirts up 
to here, no bras, bloody great tits bouncing about like pineapples, and 
nipples the size of champagne corks. They had a crowd of girls cheering 
them on. You must have heard the noise."

"No, we were a bit occupied."

We both watched Corinne, who was sitting on the floor with her back 
propped against the bed. She had raised one of her partly-exposed breasts 
to her lips and seemed to be enjoying a drink. I wondered if this was 
cannibalism, or something.

Smegs removed her hand from up her skirt and pulled herself together 
with a supreme effort. "I bet you were, too. Anyway, if ever two little girls 
were going out to get themselves laid, it was those two. I hope you've had 
a word with them about precautions."

"Me? Why me?"

"They're Thirds. You're in charge of Third Form welfare. If they come back 
pregnant, you'll be the one who carries the can."

"They won't come back pregnant. Well, Toria won't. She still thinks you 
have to sit on boys' faces. Although Sexy Amy might have read the 
textbooks. But what about Moggie? She's the one who gave them the pass 
and the afternoon off. She put them on the pill."

"It's called delegation, Shan. Moggie makes the higher decisions. You get to 
shoulder the blame. Still," she turned to go, " I thought I'd better warn you 
about girls in your charge behaving like sluts, debasing the uniform of St 
Cat's!"

"They were wearing their school uniforms?"

"Of course. I must say, they looked most impressive, too. Very neat and 
well-presented. Perhaps bras would have kept things a little more under 
control, but all round, they did look quite fetching."

I felt a surge of school pride. I wished now I had seen those two brave 
kids setting off on their great adventure into life's stormy waters.

"I hope those two kids get screwed absolutely rotten," I said, fervently. 
Somehow, it possibly wasn't quite the right thing for their teacher to say, 
but I really meant it.


**********

Corinne looked troubled. "Do you think Toria meant that? About moving in 
with a boyfriend? She can't do that, it would mean leaving St Cat's."

"I suppose it would, unless she found a boyfriend and had him move in up 
at the school. They could have a little space at one end of the dorm. The 
others could use him when Toria got bored."

"Shan, you cannot be serious!"

"I don't see why they shouldn't! The Seniors have boys in. At least, they 
can do, although it seems they prefer each other, most of them. I imagine 
they realise that they are likely to be stuck with men for better, for worse, 
once they leave St Cat's, so they make the most of it while they're here. I 
don't blame them."

"But a Third Form girl! Just think if it got out, the way these stories tend to. 
Every television station and every newspaper in the country would be 
camped outside."

"We've had that before. Smegs would handle them. She has a way with the 
media. So have I, come to think of it. No, we'd soon get rid of them. Not 
that the word would get out, anyway. St Cat's is a close little community. 
No girl is going to blow the whistle on Toria. They all know which side 
their bread's buttered."

I felt my voice fading away. Just looking at Corinne in that ridiculous bra 
with the holes in the ends of the cups was proving too much for me. She 
had got up and gone into the kitchen area to put the kettle on. She came 
back into the bedroom, preceded by the first foot or so of her breasts.

"Are you all right, Shannie?" she asked with concern. "Your mouth seems to 
be open. Tea or coffee?"

"Milk, please," I murmured. "Warm, creamy and sweet, spurting into my 
mouth, trickling down my chin to drip unheeded on to my naked breasts 
..."

She had gone back into the kitchen. She emerged again. "Sorry? Tea or 
coffee, dear?"

"Oh, what? Coffee, please. Very white."

"Of course, darling! I wouldn't dream of making it any other way."


**********

Victoria had promised me that if she came back on the eight o' clock bus 
without being fixed up with a boyfriend, I would be in deep shit. Victoria 
and Sexy Amy didn't come back on the eight o' clock bus, so in a way, I 
was off the hook. Unfortunately, Victoria and Sexy Amy came back from 
town in a police car.

"They were talking to a car driver in Sutcliffe Street, an area notorious for 
its low reputation," the nice policewoman told us. "While this one was 
engaging the driver in conversation," the policewoman indicated Victoria, 
"the other one was parading up and down on the footpath, wiggling her 
bottom. When I approached and spoke to them, the car quickly drove off, 
and this young woman ..." Victoria again "... swore at me, saying ..." the 
woman produced a notebook and read out loud, "... blank, you blank blank, 
you've blanking well scared the blanking blanker away!"

"Toria, I am disgusted in you. A St Cat's girl, in uniform, apart from the 
regulation effective brassiere, using language like that to a member of the 
police force."

"Service, Madam," insisted the policewoman.

"Do what?"

"It's the police service now, not force. We don't use force. We prefer gentle, 
insistent pressure."

I bet she would use gentle insistent pressure, too, I thought. The woman's 
eyes, I had noticed, were resting on Corinne's chest, which despite being 
concealed by an extra-huge T-shirt, was still quite ridiculously eye-
catching. She was still wearing the FreeTips bra underneath. Things were 
on the verge of splitting asunder.

I continued doggedly. "You used foul language, Toria. Do you deny it?"

"I didn't say all that blankety-blank stuff. I said she was a fucking shit, 
because she'd scared off my new boyfriend."

"Your what?"

"He had a BMW, Miss. Same as Miss Thunderbolt's, only black. I fancied 
him. He was going to give Sexy Amy and me a lift back to St Cat's, Miss. 
Afterwards, that is."

"After what?" I felt faint.

"After he'd taken us to McDonald's, Miss. We were starving, and Sexy Amy 
wanted a cheeseburger and regular fries, and I wanted McChicken 
McNuggets and a McMilk McThick-Shake. But this cowbag came along and 
screwed everything up."

"Is this true, constable?" I asked sternly.

"I don't know about the McChicken bit, but she was certainly soliciting the 
attentions of a male person, to whit, a kerb-crawling motorist. She had 
exposed one of her breasts."

"That was an accident, Miss," Victoria protested. "I leaned in at the car 
window and slipped off the kerb with these fucking fuck-me shoes, and 
my tits flopped out. I caught one, but the other one got away."

I fixed the policewoman with a baleful glare. "It's a pity you people don't 
spend a bit more time catching criminals, instead of hounding innocent and 
unfortunate schoolgirls who are attempting only to keep their strength up 
by eating good wholesome food."

The policewoman backed away a few paces, her mouth open. "But she was 
..."

"I know what you think she was doing," I stormed. "You see everything in 
terms of filth and smut. How our poor children can ever hope to preserve 
their innocence in the face of such all-pervading sleaze, I do not know, I 
really don't!"

The policewoman was at a loss, but came back strongly. She wagged a 
finger at Sexy Amy. "What about the other one, prancing up and down like 
a tart, wiggling her great big sexy bum in all directions?"

"If your bosom had grown overnight from the size of yours ..." I pointed at 
her inadequate chest with a scornful finger "... to the size of hers - literally 
overnight - *you* would need practice at walking, too. Those things are 
heavy. You can't just go straight out and walk, you know. You people have 
no idea about the real world out there."

My tirade was interrupted by a low moan from the bed. Corinne suddenly 
began tearing off her T-shirt. The FreeTips bra sprang into view, and she 
cupped one breast in both hands, running them down toward the nipple. 
The policewoman screamed and backed away to the door.

Sexy Amy gave out a growl of pure lust and sprang on to the bed. "Please, 
Miss, please let me suck!" she cried, in a voice dripping with lasciviousness.

The door slammed.

"Where's she gone?" Victoria asked, surprised.

"Back to the police canteen for sausage rolls and sticky buns, I imagine." I 
was still quivering with rage.

Victoria came up to me and threw her arms round my neck. Her nipples 
telescoped intriguingly against the upper slopes of my chest. Her soft lips, 
slightly open, met mine with all the subtlety of a sink plunger.

"Thanks, Miss! You were great. A pity you couldn't get me a proper 
boyfriend, but matey-boy with the BMW was a bit ancient. He must have 
been thirty! I'll know better next time. I'll try and pick up something in an 
Escort." She planted another kiss on my lips and rubbed herself 
suggestively against me. I hoped Victoria wasn't going to turn into a slut.

"Come on, Amy," she whined. "That cow wouldn't stop at the fish n' chip 
shop on the way back. I'm starving. And you've got that packet of Hobnobs 
in your locker. Come on, we can get a drink off one of the girls in the dorm! 
Or maybe we'll call on the Juniors and have a suck of Shona. She's got 
enough for both of us."

Amy reluctantly slipped her lips off Corinne's breast, and wiped the 
surplus off her chin with a finger. She looked with longing at the torpedo-
shaped monsters peering out of the FreeTips bra, patted them gently in 
farewell, and crawled off the bed.

She kissed me on the mouth, and I tasted Corinne's milk.

"Thanks, Miss. For standing up for us and everything. You did great. That's 
why all the girls love you, Miss. Any time you need a fuck, Miss, come to 
the Thirds' dorm. Make it after midnight, if you can, when we've got rid of 
the Fourth Formers and stuff."

The two girls left, remembering to wiggle as they waved over their 
shoulders and closed the door behind them.

"Wow!" Corinne lay back against the pillow. "I hope you won't be taking 
Sexy Amy up on her kind offer, Shannie." She grinned and beckoned me 
lewdly over to the bed.

"Well, I would be tempted. How about both of us going one night. It's a 
standing invitation, after all."

"Just you dare!"


**********

"Sho! Put the lights out, someone's coming!" Suzanne pulled the sheets up 
to her nose and began snoring unconvincingly. The others joined in. The 
dorm sounded like a particularly vulgar pigsty.

The lights went off just as Victoria and Sexy Amy blundered into the dorm. 
Victoria stopped dead and Sexy Amy's breasts squished against her back 
like a couple of sacks of low-fat spread.

"You can get your tits out of my arse, too, you horny little slag," hissed 
Victoria, a trifle judgementally. "All the way back here in the cop car you 
were trying to get off with me. You want a bucket of cold water over you, 
that's what you want."

"It was your fault, stopping suddenly like that. We big girls can't stop on a 
five-pence piece, you know."

They resumed their faltering progress into the dorm, and Victoria fumbled 
her way to her sister's bed.

"Eeeek!" squeaked Pansy, surprised while masturbating. "Who's that?"

"Me. Toria. And Amy. We came for a drink."

"It's no good coming to me, is it?" The girls continued their conversation in 
fierce whispers.

"We were looking for Shona."

"Shona's just been milked. There might be some left in her bucket, if you're 
lucky."

"Where's her bucket?"

"At the end of her bed. You can't miss it."

A clang of stainless steel confirmed that beyond all possible doubt. Curses 
echoed through the dorm, mingled with muffled thumps and metallic 
noises.

"What the fuck ...?

A bedside lamp came on, and blinking faces peered out of musky 
bedclothes to see the cause of the disturbance. The glow of the light 
revealed Sexy Amy with her foot wedged in a stainless steel bucket. She 
was stomping around, trying to get free. Milk slopped over the rim of the 
bucket. There was obviously more left than Pansy had estimated.

"Get me out of here," pleaded Sexy Amy, hobbling up and down: thump, 
clank, thump, clank.

"You daft shit. Look what you've done!" Victoria was livid. "How can we 
drink that stuff now you've had your sweaty foot in it."

"My foot's clean," hissed Sexy Amy. "Not like your great hairy pussy."

"What's my pussy got to do with it?"

"It's where you keep your brain, shit-face. I wish you'd been arrested for 
prostitution tonight. It would have served you right!"

"It was you that dangled your keys on a chain, not me. All I did was chat 
him up and lob one of my tits in through his car window."

The First Form girls gazed from one to the other, following every turn of 
the conversation.

"And now you've polluted the milk," ended Victoria, crushingly.

"I'm going to drink it, anyway," insisted Amy. "If someone will help me get 
out of here." She shook her foot vigorously and the bucket finally let go. It 
skittered several yards across the floor and ended upside down.

"Now nobody's having any," said Suzanne. "Do you two mind if we get some 
sleep? We've got a busy day tomorrow, it's our first attempt at mixing the 
new FatLite."





Chapter 51:- Steam And Lube


Several days had passed since the Whores of St Cat's made their debut in 
the town. No further action was taken by the policewoman, although we 
did receive a visit from a rather smart young man in a sharkskin suit and 
a Mercedes. Not really my type, a bit common, a bit too sharp. He 
introduced himself as Hercules Raleigh, or something, and from what we 
could gather, his interests included a number of young ladies who were no 
better than they needed to be. These ladies earned money, which enabled 
them to buy certain substances, which he provided at a reasonable 
discount. It seemed like a profitable business, and I said so, and he got 
quite cross.

Luckily, Smegs had spotted his car outside, and called for Maurice and the 
boys, who persuaded Mr Raleigh to leave the premises. They made it clear 
he would not be welcome here again.

I suppose everyone is waiting for me to mention whether Mr Raleigh was 
white or black, but I honestly can't remember. The light wasn't very good. 
Does it really make any difference? Tell you what, let's say he was white, 
shall we? That will make *everyone* happy. Maurice and the boys are 
black, by the way, but that's neither here nor there.

Anyway, enough of the light political satire, several days had passed. The 
girls who had been treated with reducing cream grew to their maximum 
size and stabilised. They were fitted out in brand new ScatBras, and felt 
instantly happier about the whole business. One or two went into milk 
production but kept it amongst their immediate circle of friends.

Corinne got her own FreeTips ScatBra, in a more appropriate size, and 
presented the old one back to me. It was totally useless, the holes in the 
ends of the cups stretched to such a ridiculous size that my breasts 
immediately worked their way out of them and ended up at full dangle. 
Angrily, I threw the bra away in the used bra skip that had been parked 
outside the bra measurement facility, and was interested to see a number 
of topless Lower Sixth Formers fighting over it. Still, it was a warm 
afternoon, so they wouldn't come to much harm, I thought.

I watched the grim struggle from the bedroom window, and Corinne came 
over to watch with me. The eventual winner was a girl whose breasts, 
while not quite up to my standard in sheer bulk, were far less dangly. She 
punched her weight to beat off the opposition, and bore the bra away in 
triumph. In a quiet corner, thinking she was unobserved, she loaded 
herself into it, and Corinne agreed with me that it suited her.

We had a quick fuck to celebrate her good fortune.

Meanwhile, the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group had been working flat 
out on FatLite. At least, two of them had. Anastasia and Shona were fully 
occupied with making up samples of Lube. They weren't doing anything to 
improve the formula, but they must have made a hundred batches of the 
stuff. As clouds of the horny Steam billowed around the lab, girls contorted 
themselves willingly to persuade the stuff up their skirts, and fought good-
naturedly for a finger full of the slimy residue which brought them such 
remarkable pleasure between their creamy thighs.

The Sexual Chemistry Laboratory was not a quiet place at all.

Suzanne and Pansy complained to me.

"How can we get on with the FatLite formula with all this coming going on 
in here," whined Suzanne. "Every five minutes, there's another batch of 
Steam. It's too disturbing."

"And we have to keep interrupting our work to grab another finger full of 
Lube," added Pansy.

"I understand fully, kids," I said, understandingly. And I did understand. 
Lube and Steam were truly compelling. It was as well Corinne had never 
discovered them or she would have been insatiable. "The best thing is to 
let them get on with it. They'll run out of the vital ingredients before long."

"I don't think so," said Suzanne. "There was a delivery yesterday. Two 
forty-five gallon drums and a whole truck-load of sacks. I think Anastasia 
has managed to persuade Jeremy to order in bulk."

"I hate to think how she did that," I said, half to myself.

"She fucked him," asserted Pansy. "She told me. Thirty-seven times in an 
hour."

"She did?" I didn't feel inclined to ask how Anastasia had accounted for the 
thirty-seven times, nor how she managed to keep count. "Perhaps she's 
exaggerating," I said, with little hope. "Anyway, with all these 
interruptions, how have you got on with the FatLite?"

"We've managed to get a cream that is absorbed when you rub it in." Pansy 
flipped over several pages of her notes. "It's the same as the reducing 
cream, without the active ingredient that makes you shrink."

"Or grow," said Suzanne.

"The next thing was the agent that turns fat into something lighter. We 
persuaded Maurice and the boys to break into a suet and cooking fat 
factory laboratory and photocopy some documents for us."

"How did you persuade them to ..." I started to ask her, but Pansy's face 
took on a closed expression, so I thought better of it.

"We've got it working on a rabbit," said Suzanne. "Come and have a look!"

She led the way through into a store room, normally kept padlocked. A fat 
rabbit sat in a cage, doing what rabbits do. Its fur was matted and greasy, 
but it looked happy.

"There," said Pansy. "Meet Chauntaille."

"That's an unusual name," I said.

"We couldn't think of anything else to call her," lied Suzanne. "Go on, pick 
her up, Miss."

I took Chauntaille by the ears and slipped my hand beneath her plump 
bottom. She weighed practically nothing.

"The grease on her fur is the cream, it won't be a problem with girls, Miss," 
Pansy assured me. "Well, maybe some of the hairier ones."

"How long did it take to get her like this?"

"Three days, rubbing her every day and every night." Suzanne looked 
earnestly up at me. "See, you said not to make it too strong, Miss."

"It looks very promising, I must say." I put Chauntaille down on the floor 
of her cage. She took a pace or two forward, then tried a little bunny hop.

"That's the major problem so far," admitted Pansy, sadly, as Chauntaille 
flopped to the floor of the cage, having banged her head resoundingly on 
the roof. She blinked and wrinkled her nose as she looked about her in 
confusion.

"We reckon she'd be able to jump as high as the ceiling in the lab, if we let 
her out," said Suzanne.

"Or into the dorm windows from outside."

"It only lightens fat, though," I asked anxiously.

"Chauntaille's a very fat rabbit. We fed her on all sorts of things to get her 
up to this size. Miss?"

"Yes, Suzanne?" I think I knew what was coming.

"When can we try it on a human, Miss? We'll have to sometime, won't we?"

"I suppose so. Just a little bit. One application, no more, then we'll study 
her for a few days before we do anything further. We weigh the human 
before and after, over several days, and we take measurements and 
photographs at each stage. Understand?"

"Yes, Miss," said the girls in happy chorus.

"Right, then, who are you going to use?"

"Well, we can't use Shona or Anastasia, 'cos they're our friends ..."

"... and anyway, they're working on Steam and Lube."

"So we thought someone not in this class ..."

"... but with enormous tits that are ever so heavy ..."

"... and she's be ever so grateful to us ..."

"... so we thought, it worked on Chauntaille the rabbit, so why shouldn't it 
work on ..."

"No! Pansy. Suzanne. You are not trying it out on me!"

"No, Miss!" Pansy screwed up her nose in that young girl scornful 
expression. "Not you! We're going to use Miss Meadowlark!"


**********

They left it to me to break the news to Corinne. I couldn't do it. Days 
passed, and we went about our work by day and our loving by night. I just 
could not do it!

Over beside the bra measuring facility, a strange new portable building 
had appeared, like a shed with no windows, and a short fat chimney. Only 
after I had failed to see Anastasia and Shona around the place for a couple 
of days did I realise that they were engaged in setting up some heavy-
duty apparatus to produce Lube on a commercial scale. And Steam, of 
course.

A balcony appeared on the flat roof of the building, with a stout handrail 
all round. And on the morning when the little factory went into production, 
a line of eager girls stretched all the way round the main school building 
and tailed off into the quadrangle. The line led up the steps to the balcony, 
so the next fifty or so girls could watch the fun as each batch of lucky 
participants stood in anticipation beside the fat little chimney, hoisting 
their skirts and lowering their panties.

Out gushed the Steam, lapping heavily around the loins of the panting, 
moaning girls, spilling over and trickling down to ground level, where the 
next few in the queue might, if they were in the right place, catch a 
gratuitous orgasm before their turn came in earnest.

Meanwhile, down in the shed, Anastasia and Shona were testing each batch 
and growing more and more horny with each testing. They didn't seem to 
notice that the effects were cumulative. By lunchtime, when Moggie finally 
reached the head of the queue and took her democratic turn with the rest 
of the girls, Anastasia was nowhere to be found.

Moggie closed the factory for the day - or as she said, until further notice - 
as soon as she'd had her turn. A howl of dismay went up from two 
hundred deep and yearning throats.

Smegs was livid. She had been twenty places behind Moggie. She stormed 
up to the staff living quarters and banged on our door.

"It's not that so much. I can get off any time. But we had doubled our 
pantie throughput. I collected three full sacks, and they weighed a ton, 
they were so wet!" She sniffed like a dog. "Did you get any Steam, either of 
you?"

"No, we were in bed," Corinne admitted, blushing so captivatingly I was 
forced to apply my lips to one of her nipples again.

"So you won't have seen Anastasia, then?"

"No, what's happened to her?"

"Nobody knows," said Smegs. "She's disappeared. Shona was going frantic, 
milk pouring out of her and both hands up her skirt. Criminal waste of 
juices, she wasn't wearing any panties. I told her off about it, and all she 
could do was burst into tears, the fat bitch."

"But Anastasia has disappeared." Sometimes Smegs needs leading back to 
the subject at hand. "The poor kid. She needs a helping hand."

"She'll get a helping hand if I catch her," growled Smegs, "especially if she's 
not wearing any panties."

"No, listen. She's been very horny lately. I think Anastasia has gone out in 
search of a good fuck!"


**********

We tried the obvious places: the caretaker's shed, the Senior dormitories. 
No sign of Anastasia anywhere. Her clothes were still in her wardrobe. Not 
that she really had anything but her school things anyway.

I called the police service.

"Not another one of your whores on the loose," wailed the policewoman 
who answered the phone. "Find the slut yourselves!" The line went dead. 
No help from that quarter, then. Corinne suggested looking up Sex Slave 
Dealers in the Yellow Pages, which I thought was a suggestion unworthy of 
her. She looked anyway, and all it said was 'see Harem Requisites'.

And that was where we struck gold.

There were only two entries under Harem Requisites. One was for a firm of 
Kissagram Dealers, advertising Naughty Nurses, Virgin Vergers, Cheeky 
Cheerleaders and Saucy Schoolgirls. No, they hadn't seen anyone answering 
Anastasia's description, not this morning, nor any other time. Could I 
repeat those vital statistics again, please? I did, and there was the sound of 
someone writing them down at the other end of the line, accompanied by 
the unmistakeable shuffling rhythm of male masturbation. I explained 
that, yes, she was real, not silicone, not latex, and the gasping voice 
promised to call me back if Anastasia appeared at his door.

I thanked him politely, and said that if he ever needed the services of a 
Perverted Policewoman, to try this number. And I gave him the number of 
the local nick.

Corinne was still poring over the Yellow Pages.

"Where's this place?" she said.

I looked over her shoulder, and she lifted one breast slightly to one side so 
I could see the page.

"East Longshott Down? About thirty miles North of here. An hour by car. 
Why? What does it say?"

"Well, there's just the one line with the number; it says 'Toots Services'. But 
over on the next page," Corinne moved her other breast out of the way and 
tapped her fingernail on a boxed display ad. "What do you make of that?" 



	Toots Services [proprietor - Tessa Lashmore]
	Longshott Down 761626
	Harem suppliers to His Excellency the Pasha Mandingo of Cantelopia
	Mammoth breasts a speciality
	Horny young girls always required
	Must be clean and ready for immediate use



"Wow!" I said. "You think there is such a place?"

"What, East Longshott Down, or Cantelopia?"

"Either." I tapped out the number and listened for a while to the answering 
machine. "Wow!" I said again as I put the phone down.

"What did it say," Corinne wanted to know.

"It said, and I will not attempt the accent, 'Oah, hyyy! Dis is Langshatt 
seventy-six, sixteen, twentysix, Toots speakin, whaddya know, man? I's 
out fuckin right now, but you leave de message after she tone, an I get 
baack to you. Later, okay?'"

"How wise of you not to attempt the accent," said Corinne. "Well, what do 
you think, Shan?"

"Let's get Jeremy. I think we've got to get ourselves up to this place. I'm 
afraid I've got a funny feeling about it."





Part XVIII





Chapter 52:- A Girl Called Toots


Smegs wanted to come as well. Corinne and I squeezed ourselves into the 
back of the Jaguar, Smegs stretched her long legs out in front with Jeremy; 
and we slid out of the school grounds and set off for Longshott Down.

I don't know what we expected to find when we got there. "It seems a 
strange place for a set-up like this," I said for the umpteenth time. "Right 
out in the countryside, dealing in mammoth-breasted harem girls. And this 
Toots, if that's her name, Tessa Lashmore, sounded weird. A really young 
voice, like a ten-year-old. And West Indian. Sort of a Caribbean voice."

"We'll find out soon enough," said Corinne. "Although why we're all trailing 
out here on a wild-goose chase is anyone's guess. We've no reason to 
suppose that Anastasia has gone there. None at all apart from your 
intuition."

"It's a very strong intuition," I said stubbornly. "And if Anastasia turns up 
anywhere else, they'll call us on the car-phone and we can go back. 
Although I must confess, I wouldn't mind a look at this Toots and her sex 
slave business."

I was sure that was why the others had come along, as well. Corinne out of 
sheer curiosity, but Smegs because there might be a business opportunity 
in it. I imagined it: St Cat's Slavers, The One-Stop Shop For All Your Harem 
Needs.

Meanwhile, there was nothing to do but wait until we arrived. We hadn't 
even left a message with Toots. She might have been out fucking for the 
rest of the week, for all we knew. But I still had a funny feeling Toots 
might know where our little Anastasia had disappeared to.


**********

The lab was almost silent. A couple of groups of girls worked away in a 
jaded manner. Darren sat at the desk playing with a hand-held game that 
gave off beeps and whistles and played an infuriating tune every time he 
lost.

Shona sat with her head in her hands. The effects of the thirty-something 
doses of Lube she had applied to herself (working entirely by feel) had 
worn off, leaving her feeling numbed and sick. Anastasia had disappeared 
without a word. Shona was watching Suzanne and Pansy as they mixed 
another batch of the stuff they referred to as FatLite. Every so often, one 
or both of them would disappear into the store room. Shona was beginning 
to hate Sexual Chemistry with a deep loathing. Her Mum was certainly 
going to kill her, although she couldn't think of a valid reason at the 
moment.

"Nearly ready, Suze," whispered Pansy, concentrating hard with her tongue 
out of the side of her mouth.

"Ready when you are," said Suzanne, holding out a beaker. The mixture 
glugged into the beaker like green treacle and settled at the bottom, 
bubbling gently to itself.

"C'mere, Shona," called Pansy. "Time for the vital ingredient."

Shona rose from her seat dumbly, and wandered over to the workbench. 
She hoped this would be the last time today. It was nearly four o' clock. 
She unbuttoned her blouse and opened the snap of her right bra cup. A fat, 
brown, turgid nipple, almost two inches long and the best part of three-
quarters of an inch thick, peeped out. There was already a driblet of milk 
at its tip. With a heavy sigh, Shona directed herself to the beaker.

"That's enough, Sho, thanks!" Pansy patted Shona's breast in gratitude and 
watched as the big girl put herself away. "You're sure they're not still 
getting bigger?" she asked in genuine concern.

"I don't really care all that much. Mum will be killing me anyway."

Suzanne stirred the milk into the treacle, watching as the mixture turned 
yellow, then returned the beaker to the heat for a few seconds.

"That's it. Leave it to cool and it will be ready to use in the morning. I'll go 
and put Chauntaille to bed."

"What's she mean?" Shona was interested despite herself. The existence of 
Chauntaille the rabbit was a closely guarded secret.

"Oh, nothing," said Pansy. "I think she's gone to adjust her bra, that's just 
her silly name for it."

"Stupid name," agreed Shona. "Why's she need to hide just to do her bra?"

"Maybe she doesn't want to excite Darren."

Suzanne returned. "All buttoned up," she said. "Who's for tea? I'm 
starving."

"I don't know how you can think of food when our bestest friend is out 
there getting raped," Shona moaned.

Suzanne put an arm round her big friend. It didn't go very far round. 
"They'll find her, Sho, don't worry. Anastasia's a clever girl, she won't get 
into trouble. And they said Rumiko and a load of her martial arts girls are 
searching the woods. She'll be all right." Suzanne led the way to the door, 
Shona lumbering along in the rear.

"Wait for me," she complained, as her breasts rumbled and bounced off the 
furniture. The others helped her load them into her wheelbarrow. At least, 
she still had two friends.


**********

"There's a signpost," said Smegs, and the Jaguar slowed. "It says Longshott 
Industrial Park. Let's see what that list of names says."

It included the usual assortment of car body repairs, computer power 
supply suppliers, Anywair Couriers, pet foods in bulk, the KwiqNTaystee 
cafe and at the bottom, Toots Services.

"Unit 24a," Smegs pointed the way.

Unit 24a was the same as all the others, apart from the name on the front, 
a large white plastic sign, with an artist's impression of an improbably 
endowed girl, and the name Toots Services. Someone's idea of an original 
touch was to paint nipples in each letter 'O' of 'Toots'. It looked strangely 
obscene. It also looked ominously quiet. Smegs and Jeremy got out and 
rattled the door handle. They peered through the window.

"Come on," said Corinne, "let's have a look as well. I need a stretch." We 
struggled out and walked slowly over to the deserted building, stretching 
our cramped limbs and rubbing our numb boobs. We could see faces 
staring out of adjacent buildings.

"Nobody about," Smegs came over shaking her head. "No lights inside. 
Looks like a wasted journey."

"I wonder if this bloke knows anything," I had spotted an old boy on a bike 
in a flat cap and raincoat. He wobbled as he came closer and caught sight of 
Corinne and me. "Excuse me ..."

The bicycle came to a halt and the bloke almost fell off. He had forgotten to 
put his foot on the ground. Smegs caught him and held the saddle like one 
of those people who hold the riders upright at the beginning of sprint 
races.

"We were wondering if there was anyone at this place."

"What, young Toots? Nah, she'll be out fuckin'! Whass toime? Half foive? 
She'll be back any minute now. Hang around. She's got to come back, that 
there's her motor."

He indicated a brilliant yellow sports car down a side alley. "That's hers," 
he said, "she bought that six months after she opened this place. I dunno 
what she does, apart from fuck, and there can't be much money in that."

Smegs nodded in agreement. We watched as he pedalled off, navigated the 
corner of the street and turned on to the main road. There was a squeal of 
brakes and a tinny crash. Shortly afterwards, a sleek multi-purpose 
vehicle with darkened windows swung up the street and turned in to the 
side alley. It stopped, and there was a pause of almost a minute before the 
passenger door slid open. Immediately, the big vehicle - what do they call 
them, like a van with windows - surged away round the back of the 
building, spun round arrogantly and swooshed past us, heading off down 
the road.

Not that we really noticed the van. Our eyes were all riveted on a 
diminutive figure standing beside the yellow sports car.

"Scuse me," it said. "You waitin' for me? I's Toots!"


**********

"Let's just call in to Miss Thunderbolt's office on the way to tea," said 
Suzanne. "Just to see if there's any news of Anastasia."

The cousins left Shona parked with her barrow in the corridor and hurried 
up the stairs. They arrived at the top, breathless and trying to hold their 
bosoms still with both hands.

There was no news, Miss Labia told them, but police were searching 
everywhere, questioning all the usual Sex Slave Dealers and dragging 
every lake, river and canal in the county. They would find her mutilated 
and despoiled body soon. Miss Labia was always positive about such 
things.

"We'll be over in the restaurant having our tea if there's any news," said 
Suzanne.


**********

We gazed at Toots in utter disbelief. I use the term advisedly. At St Cat's, 
we have seen most things, but Toots was something else entirely.

She saw our expressions and invited us inside. The office was sparsely 
furnished. On the thickly-carpeted floor was a modern-looking desk with a 
computer and no papers at all. The walls were hung with an assortment of 
24" by 20" photographs of girls in harem costume. Without exception, all 
were spectacularly developed, many of them well up to and beyond the 
minimum St Cat's standard. Pride of place, hung centrally on the wall 
beside a huge brass bed, was a three feet square colour shot of Toots 
herself, dressed only in harem pants. In the picture, she stood arrogantly 
with her hands on hips, thrusting herself at the camera.

It was obviously her favourite pose. She stood like it and looked around at 
us.

"You some big gals," she said at last. "Even dat one!" Smegs glowered at her. 
"Dese all yours?" she asked Jeremy.

"Me?" he squeaked. "Mine? Shit, no!"

"We'd better introduce ourselves," I said. "I'm Chauntaille Gruntworthy, 
this is Megan Mountains, this is Corinne Meadowlark, and this is Jeremy, 
our driver." Jeremy made no objection, and Toots gave a little bow in the 
direction of each of us as I mentioned the names. Each little bow she gave 
caused her phenomenal breasts to bounce downward until they struck her 
knees, then they rebounded upwards again. She was wearing a bra, but it 
was less than effective.

Her blouse was obviously custom made for her, in turquoise silk, which 
certainly set off her rich chocolate skin. What we could see of her below 
the waist was encased in a pair of shocking pink stretch pants, reaching 
down to mid-calf. Her legs were muscular. They would be, carrying that lot 
around all day. She had kicked off her shoes as soon as we had come in, 
and she was no more than four feet six tall.

Toots undulated over to the desk, her rear view revealing a tiny but 
supremely well-shaped bottom and a miniscule waist, cinched by a bright 
yellow belt, which needless to say was not visible from the front. She 
perched herself on the edge of the desk, her legs swinging some way short 
of the floor. There was no chair. Presumably she did all her typing 
standing up.

"Where you all from? I ain' seen you roun' here before?"

"We're from St Cat's," I said. "St Catherine's High School for Girls."

"St Cat's!" Toots yelped with delight and her breasts bounced wildly. "Dat's 
great. My Auntie Mom's gonna send me dere after the summer holidays. 
We filled in all the forms. Miss Thunderbolt," she said after a brief silence. 
"Stoopid name!"

"Some people think so," I agreed. "But you mean you're going to St Cat's to 
school? Yet you're running a business here? How young are you? I mean, 
how old?"

"Auntie Mom says I gotta go to school. I left the school in the village. Dey 
sling me out for fuckin' all the time. So I set up dis place. Just to make a 
few quid. I bought de car, and the van thing."

"But how old are you?"

"Ten. Nearly eleven. I'm old enough," she assured us.

"But you drive that car?"

Toots giggled and everything shuddered wildly. "Me? Drive a car. Wid dese 
tings? You crazy? I got a chauffeur. He's okay, but we don't fuck."

She looked significantly from me to Jeremy, and I blushed deeply. The girl 
must have psychic powers.

"Anyway, you lucky to catch me. I was gonna leave the car here for Nigel 
to take home tonight. But when we knocked that guy off his bike out there 
on the road; jus' before he passed out, he said there was some gals here to 
see me. Gals wid fuckin' great tits, he says. So we came up here. Ah ..."

A thought came to her suddenly, and she picked up the phone. We stood 
politely as she asked for an ambulance to pick up an accident victim from 
the road outside Longshott Down Industrial Park.

"Hey," she said, as she slammed the phone down on its rest. I knew I 
remembered St Cat's for somefink else. I had a call today from a girl. 
Anastasia something?"

"You did?" We all leaned forward eagerly.

"You know dis chick?"

"It's why we came up here. She ran away and disappeared from school. 
What did she want? Is she coming to see you?"

"She sure is. Later tonight. The van is pickin' her up and deliverin' her to 
my Auntie Mom's place. She give me her stats." Toots tugged a piece of 
crumpled paper from somewhere in her tight pants. "Are dese numbers 
right?" She handed me the paper. I nodded and gave it back to her.

"Shit, she's nearly as big as me!" The tiny black girl looked down at her 
twin pumpkins in disbelief. "We'll get thousands for that one out in 
Cantelopia. I'll buy another car ..."

"Toots," I said. "May I call you Toots?"

"S'my name," she said agreeably.

"Toots. Anastasia can't be sold to a Pasha. She's an English schoolgirl. Her 
mother has paid for her to be educated at St Cat's. You can't take her and 
sell her, just like that!"

"Why not?" Toots was genuinely surprised.

"'Cos not! I'm afraid Anastasia is going to have to come back to St Cat's with 
us."

Toots studied her fingers. The nails were at least two inches long. "You pay 
me for her?"

"No! She's not yours to sell."

The logic of this was beyond Toots. She furrowed her brow and shook her 
head. "But she give herself to me, to sell. I'll lose thousands on this."

"Toots. No!"

"Oh, shit! Where else, apart from my step-sister, am I ever gonna find 
another girl wid more than sixty-inch titties? Tell me that!"

How could I not tell her, after that? She was coming to St Cat's in the 
Autumn Term, she'd find out anyway.





Chapter 53:- Anastasia Gets A Surprise


Back at Toots's house, we made a phone call to Moggie. Dismiss the police, 
their dogs, and frogmen, we told her, bring Rumiko and her martial artistes 
back from the woods. For the lamb which was lost is found.

Mrs Lashmore was ever so sweet. "Call me Dawn," she said, as soon as 
Toots showed us in and introduced us to her Auntie Mom. And while we 
waited for Anastasia to arrive - Toots had arranged to have her picked up 
from a motorway service station - Dawn told the incredible tale of how her 
entire family had been kidnapped, along with their friend Candi. How they 
had escaped; not bringing Candi with them, but somehow having collected 
Toots along the way; and how Candi had finally been rescued months later.

We listened, horrified and spellbound.

"So, Toots was made the way she is by the Pasha's experiments, that's how 
she got her huge breasts?" I said.

Dawn looked at the three of us girls with amusement before answering. 
"Those, and her sex drive, too, unfortunately. It made her effectively 
insatiable. Which is an embarrassment in a small town where everyone 
knows everyone else. She started off by selling herself to all comers, but 
we managed to get it under control after a few months. Relatively. She still 
does it for all her friends and she doesn't have an enemy in the world. This 
business she set up with her ill-gotten gains without us knowing, but I 
suppose it keeps her off the streets. Literally. The doctors have been 
marvellous with her, but they say they can't do anything about her bust 
until she stops growing. She's still getting taller: she was only about four 
feet one when we got her, but she's five inches taller now. Trouble is, her 
bust is keeping pace with her height. Like it's always a couple of feet 
bigger than she is tall! It could be another seven or eight years before they 
can reduce her breasts. And that's if she'll let them! But it's amazing that 
you should be from St Cat's, especially since I have arranged to send her 
there! Just one thing. How will a prim and proper girls' school like St Cat's 
cope with a vast-breasted not quite eleven-year-old slut dropping in on 
them?"

Dawn sat and wondered why we all fell about laughing.

"I don't know if we ought to tell you this, Dawn," I said, "but Toots is going 
to fit in far better than you imagine. Look at me, and even Corinne. We're 
not the biggest-breasted women at St Cat's, not by a long way. There are 
girls giving milk by the gallon, there are others getting bigger at an inch a 
month, dozens of those, and there are one or two whose sex drive is on the 
high side of normal. They'll welcome Toots with open arms!"

"And open legs," growled Smegs, speaking for the first time.

"I'll give you a tip, though," I leaned forward conspiratorially, and was 
surprised to see the others do the same. Even Dawn did. "Tell the school 
she's an overseas student. Say she's from Jamaica, or Timbuctoo, or 
somewhere. That way, you'll get free ScatBras, like ours, and free blouses 
up to a hundred inch bust."

"Eighty," Smegs corrected me. "Moggie reduced the upper big girl's blouse 
threshold to eighty inches to save funds."

"Sorry! Eighty inches. It should see Toots all right for a month or two 
anyway. Don't take no for an answer, Dawn. Moggie, Miss Thunderbolt, will 
try and claim that because Toots speaks English, that she *is* English and 
doesn't qualify. Don't listen to her. Stand up for your rights."

"I shall," said Dawn, surprised. "I must say, St Cat's sounds a most unusual 
school."

"Unusual? How do you mean?"


**********

There were voices out in the passage by the front door. A deep male voice, 
that sounded like Toots's driver, Nigel. And Toots's excited babble. And the 
cultured St Cat's tones of Anastasia. We sat and waited, then the drawing 
room door opened and Toots squeezed through.

"Here she is Miz, Chauntaille, yo' runaway girl!"

She stood aside and let Anastasia see us. The poor girl's face was such a 
jumble of emotions I felt sorry for her instantly. I was all prepared to give 
her a real mouthful of abuse for causing all this trouble, all the police 
searching for her, she'd be in all the evening papers by now, and on the 
television news. But she looked so helpless and crumpled, I held out my 
arms to her and she came to me, bursting into tears and howling on my 
shoulder. I looked over Anastasia's head and met Dawn's look. Her eyes 
were wet, too, and so were mine. I looked at Toots, and even she was 
wiping her face with a lime green silk hankie. Probably mourning the loss 
of her thousands of pounds.

Corinne was sobbing into the skirt of her dress, Jeremy was looking very 
hard at his shoes and Smegs was blowing her nose in a decisive manner.

"Have you got an old towel, Dawn?" Corinne asked urgently. "I'm starting to 
leak."

"Leak? You mean MILK?" said Dawn, getting up in mild panic.

"Make it two towels, if you could, please," said Corinne, "I'm getting wet 
down below as well!"

I could see Smegs looking sharply at me, and I knew what she was 
thinking. I had to hold on to my chair with both hands or I would have 
been climbing all over Corinne even before Dawn had left the room. As it 
was, when she came back, clutching a heap of fluffy bath towels, she was 
just in time to see me sitting down in my own chair again. Corinne was 
looking deeply flushed and tousled and Smegs was examining her 
fingernails.

Anastasia was well used to such behaviour from her teaching staff, as was 
Jeremy, but Toots was clearly interested and aroused. A pair of 
improbably spiky nipples were sticking out through the turquoise silk, 
pointing outwards at forty-five degrees. Anastasia examined them with 
interest, rubbing the palms of her hands experimentally across the sheer 
silk. It was doing amazing things to Toots, who began to howl like a wolf on 
heat.

"Anastasia, would you mind not exciting Toots like that," I admonished her. 
"Sorry, Miss," she said glumly, and we all started crying again, while 
Corinne moaned softly and did things in her nest of towels. Toots carried 
on howling for some time, but gradually the noise died away and we could 
hear ourselves think at last. If that was the sort of thing that was going to 
happen in next year's First Form dormitory, I thought, we'd better get 
some sound-proofing built in. More expense for Moggie.

"I had hoped you'd be able to see the rest of the family," Dawn said, "but 
you know how it is with youngsters. They get round their friends' houses 
playing and watching videos, and you never see them for hours."

"Kids! Tell me about it, "I said.

"Piers is playing football, although he shouldn't really. At school, he's 
excused shorts! His ..." Dawn dropped her voice and we all pricked up our 
ears. "... his ... willie ... grew while he was in the harem!"

Corinne's eyes became saucers. Smegs was dribbling. Jeremy looked deeply 
embarrassed. Toots was giggling girlishly and Anastasia was mercifully 
asleep. She'd had a long day, bless her.

"The girls were a bit strange. Lucinda grew enormous. Tiny waist, only 
about twenty-two, and a big bottom, and her bust is bigger than Toots's." 
Dawn looked at the three of us St Cat's teachers. Not as big as you two, but 
much bigger than you, Megan!"

Smegs looked daggers at her, but Dawn didn't seem to notice.

"But our Caro, she didn't grow at all. They captured her then she was sold 
to the chief of police, who liked his girls big, apparently, but didn't know 
how to make them bigger. So Caro is ordinary."

"You hadn't thought of them going to St Cat's as well? Company for Toots?"

"No chance," Dawn laughed. "I am never letting those kids out of my sight 
for a single day, not any more."

"What about the other girl, Candi? What became of her?"

"Two lovely kids now. And she's working at the farm shop down the road. 
Lovely girl, I've always liked her ... hey, is that the time?"

We all looked at the clock. Still an hour's journey back to the school.

"We really must be getting along," I said. "We've been keeping you. Look, 
come along to St Cat's any time, meet the girls, and Moggie." Smegs 
scribbled the number on a scrap of paper. Anastasia was curled up 
between Corinne and me, snoring gently.

"Let me carry her to the car," said Jeremy, and he picked her up like a 
busty rag doll. She never stirred, but rested her head on his shoulder. We 
all said goodbye to Dawn and Toots. Corinne gave Dawn her towels back. 

"They're all wet, I'm afraid, sorry!"

Dawn kissed her on the cheek. "Don't worry, darling. I remember what it 
was like. Young Candi's just the same." She hung the towels over her arm. 
"Gosh, Corinne, you are a wet girl, aren't you!"

It was crowded in the back seat, with Anastasia between us and all those 
breasts wedged together. It saved having them flopping around, at least.


**********

Smegs turned round from the passenger seat. She was doing her dog-
sniffing act again. Honestly, I don't know how she could do that, it's so 
rude.

"I hope you've all got panties on," she said. "I collect them when we get 
back."

"You're not having mine, for a start," said Corinne.

"Anastasia's not wearing any," I said, after a brief exploration.

"Blast the girl," Smegs spluttered. "Filthy slut, walking about all day half 
dressed."

"Leave her alone, the poor child has gone though enough today, being 
kidnapped as a sex slave ..."

"She wasn't kidnapped. *She* was the one who called *them*, remember?"

"That's not the point. She wasn't herself. And she's sorry now." I stroked 
the girl's hair, and she put her thumb in her mouth. Her cheek felt hot. "I 
hope the poor kid's not caught a chill or anything, out there all day in just 
her uniform."

"And no knickers," Smegs muttered, facing the front.

Sometimes, I wonder what Jeremy thinks of us all, apparently obsessed 
with knickers and all those sorts of things.


**********

We arrived back at St Cat's at around ten thirty. Past Anastasia's bedtime.

"Don't disturb them in the dorm," I said. "Bring her up to my old bedroom."

Jeremy carried the inert child up the stairs and we tucked her up in my 
narrow bed.

"Thanks, Jeremy. You want to stay for a coffee or something?"

He glanced at Corinne. "No, I'll be getting on, Shan, thanks all the same. Got 
to get some stuff ready for the morning." He bent and gave me a soft kiss 
on the cheek. Corinne offered her cheek too, and received a gentle peck. 
"Night, love. You too, Cee!"

After he had gone, we clung to each other for a while. "What a bloody day," 
said Corinne, and shivered.

"Don't catch cold. Climb into bed and I'll make you a hot something. 
Chocolate?"

"Please!"

But five minutes later when I came back in with her mug, she was asleep.


**********

I suppose I shouldn't, but I tucked the covers up under Corinne's chin and 
slipped out of the bedroom door. Jeremy didn't seem all that surprised to 
see me.

"Hi, Shan. What's up?"

"Corinne's asleep. She dropped off as soon as her head touched the pillow. I 
thought I'd come and see if you were still awake."

Jeremy pinched himself and grinned at me. He held his arms wide and 
hugged me against him. My cheek lay on the hard warmth of his chest. I 
turned my head and looked up at him, and we kissed.

"I want to be doggied, Jeremy. Really badly!"

"You'll have it done properly or not at all, Shan. Come here!" He led me to 
the bed. The covers were already turned back, and Jeremy removed the 
hot water bottle. "I know you like the bed warmed up, Shan."

"You what? You mean you knew I was coming over here?"

"I didn't know, but I certainly hoped. Maybe I prayed a little, too."

"Your prayers are answered, darling," I announced, holding my arms out to 
the sides for him to take off my blouse and bra. He obliged with his usual 
efficiency, and followed up with my skirt.

"Oh, shit," I said. "I forgot to leave my panties in Smegs's sack. She'll have 
left it outside her room specially."

"She'll never know you haven't put yours in there. Tell you you stuffed 
them right down at the bottom of the bag."

"She'll know all right. You don't know Smegs and her sense of smell. Have 
you got a plastic bag? At least we can keep them moist overnight. Smegs 
goes crazy when I let them dry out."

Jeremy found a bag and watched me as I tucked my panties into it and 
tied the top closed.

"You're a funny lot, you and your knickers." I was shivering slightly, 
standing there in just my socks. "My darling, are you cold? Come on, into 
bed."

We lay and cuddled for a while. "Are you sure you want it doggie fashion? 
It will be ever so draughty."

"All right, then," I conceded. "Since I'm nice and comfy. Climb aboard, big 
Jay. Ride Shannie into the moonlight."

He mounted me. His knees were cold. Just this once, I was glad I hadn't 
suggested doing it in the back of the Jaguar.


**********

Corinne understood. I crawled into bed beside her at 7.30 next morning.

"Don't get up," I said. "It's Saturday!"

"You're home early, Shannie." Corinne's voice was full of sleep.

"Jeremy threw me out. He had to go into town to collect some timber. He 
said I couldn't stay in bed, the shed was fully booked by the Fifth Form for 
Practical Fucking Homework. They've got it for the whole weekend."

"Don't sound so shocked, darling!" She cuddled me. "You're cold. You've got 
a cold bottom," she complained. "It's freezing Cee's little pussy off!"

"No, don't let that happen. Let me warm it up for you." I dived beneath the 
covers. Corinne was moist and ready for me. "I'll have to sleep with Jeremy 
more often," I suggested, emerging momentarily to exchange a pussy-
flavoured kiss.

"Don't you dare!"

"No, I don't think I will," I said, as her bed-warm fingers teased my aching 
rude bits. "I always forget how big he is until it's too late. Not hung quite 
like Darren, but he's still quite unnecessarily large. It was an accident with 
some early boob-juice that caused it ..."

"Talking of boob-juice," said Corinne softly. "I'm very full this morning ...!"

The kitchen door creaked open and Anastasia's face appeared.

"I woke up and didn't know where I was, Miss," she said in a weary voice.

"Are you all right, Anastasia?" I asked.

She shivered and shook her head. "I've got a sore throat, it hurts when I 
swallow. And I'm freezing."

"Come here, then. Get in here with us. We'll thaw you out."

Anastasia looked uncertainly at Corinne and me. We both held out our 
arms in welcome.

"Come and have a nice warm drink," said Corinne. That made up her mind 
for her.

The poor darling was like a block of ice. We had to rub her all over before 
she stopped shivering.


**********

"It's just as well we did bring you home with us from Longshott Down, 
Anastasia." She was sitting up in the bed in the sick quarters. The nurse 
had stuck a thermometer in her mouth. The girl could only nod.

"If you'd been sold to the great Pasha Mandingo of Cantelopia, you'd have 
had a miserable journey on the ship with a cold. He might even have sent 
you back home! You can't have a girl with a cold in a harem. All the girls 
would catch it."

Nurse came and took the thermometer out. She glared at it as if defying it 
to read more than 98.4 degrees.

"Was I being sold, Miss?" Anastasia's voice was husky, quite sexy, I 
thought.

"Thousands of pounds, Toots said."

"Gosh, am I worth as much as that, Miss?"

"Every penny, darling!"





Chapter 54:- As Well As Can Be Expected


Suzanne peered into the beaker and dipped a finger into it. The mixture 
was creamy, and quite smooth, with no lumps.

"Is it ready?" asked Pansy.

"Think so. It feels nice." She rubbed her finger and thumb together. "Oooh, 
it gets warm when you rub it! I bet this will feel great on your tits!"

"We're not wasting it on yours! This is for Miss Meadowlark." Pansy was 
silent for a moment. "Suze? Do you think it's a good idea, trying it out on 
Miss Meadowlark?"

"It's what Miss Gruntworthy said. We can't go against her wishes, can we? 
What's wrong, anyway?"

"Well, there isn't much here, and Miss Meadowlark is so enormous. 
Imagine if we only had enough to do one side. She'd be all uneven."

"She'd be walking round in circles," Suzanne giggled. "But it should spread 
thinly enough. We've only got to give her one coat."

"I don't know. I think we ought to find somebody not so big, but still with 
big heavy tits."

"About your size, Pan?" Suzanne grinned suggestively.

"Not me! No way are you rubbing that on me!"

"How about Anastasia, then?"

Pansy thought about the idea. "You mean while she's over in the sick 
quarters? Go over and take advantage of a poor defenceless kid when she's 
weakened and ill?"

"What better time?"

Pansy picked up the beaker. "C'mon, then. While we're doing it, you'd 
better think of an excuse to tell Miss Gruntworthy."


**********

"The First Form Sexual Chemistry Group was mixing some new stuff," I 
blurted suddenly.

Corinne continued brushing her hair. "Hmmm?"

"I thought you might like to try some of it. You know, just to try. It's 
harmless stuff."

"Harmless. Since when did the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group ever 
make anything harmless? What's this one intended to do, anyway?"

I had her interest. "It makes breasts lighter!" I stood behind her, looking 
over her shoulder at her face in the mirror. Reaching round her, I lifted 
one breast as far as I could with one hand. It spilled and flopped out of my 
grasp and I had to lower it again quickly. "About half as heavy as 
originally. They call it FatLite?"

"Fat light?"

"No, FatLite, silly."

"Oh, FatLite! What's it supposed to do?"

"It acts on fats, and turns them into lightweight fat, same as cooking fat."

Corinne laughed. "But that stuff is the same weight, it's just twice as big!"

Trust Corinne to see things from the wrong angle.

"No," I insisted, "they've been speaking to manufacturers of lightweight fat. 
They say there's less actual fat there, and it's lighter than the real thing. 
They've made up a sample. Here are the ingredients." I handed her a sheet 
of paper.

"What's all this stuff? I don't recognise any of it. Apart from the last one. 
Girl-milk!"

"What? I didn't see that when I ..."

Pansy had evidently added another ingredient to the mixture. Still, a spot 
of Shona-milk never did anyone any harm.

"Anyway," I said. "I wondered if you'd like to try it ...?"

Wronggg! I had not chosen the right time to ask Corinne. She turned round 
with an expression of scorn. "If you think I am going to be a guinea-pig 
again for those flea-brained kids in the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group, 
you have got another think coming. Rub that stuff on my tits? And have 
them finish up twice as big and just as heavy? Shan, you're as bad as they 
are!"

I went and looked out of the window. It started to rain; great splashes 
beating on the glass.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I just thought you'd want them not to be so heavy. I 
was only thinking of you. Perhaps I'd better tell them not to make this 
stuff until we've tested it a bit more. See you later ..."

"Shan? Shannie?"

I heard her call after I had closed the door and hurried away.


**********

"That was a great idea, Suze, mixing this stuff with it."

Pansy sniffed the FatLite cream, inhaling the heady Menthol vapour.

"Just a little bit. It smells so strong, you'd never know it was mixed with 
anything. And now, all we have to do is to tell Nurse we're rubbing 
Anastasia's chest with Vick!"

"I'd never have thought of that, though, Suze. It's what makes you so 
brilliant and creative. I'm just a dull scientist. You're an inventor!"

"Oh, Pan!" Suzanne stopped and stood with her toes turned inwards.

"Come on, it's starting to rain. We don't want to have to rub your chest as 
well. We'd need a family-size jar of Vick for those things!"

They closed the door and their footsteps squeaked on the polished floor of 
the sick-bay.

"Will you tell Nurse, or shall I," Suzanne whispered.

"Tell me what," boomed Nurse's voice from behind them. "What are you 
two doing in here?"

"We came to see our friend Anastasia. They said she'd got a sore throat," 
Pansy burbled.

"So we came to rub some Vick on her chest," added Suzanne.

"Make her better." Pansy held up the beaker.

"That's not Vick!" Nurse seized the beaker and sniffed deeply. Her eyes 
watered. "Well, maybe it is at that. What's it doing in there. Why not in a 
jar?"

"The jar broke ..."

"A plastic jar broke?"

"It caught fire," gabbled Pansy.

"We were warming it by the fire and it started to melt, so we poured it in 
this beaker," suggest Suzanne, and the girls held their breath. They had 
reached Anastasia's door.

"Go on, then," grinned Nurse. "But only if she's awake. The poor girl's had a 
nasty experience. Don't go waking her up."

The girls crept inside the room and closed the door. It was stiflingly hot, 
and Anastasia was asleep, on her back, the covers pulled up to her nose. 
The mountain range of her breasts almost hid her face from them. Suzanne 
crept round the side of the bed and pulled down the sheet, as if identifying 
the body of a loved one. She nodded to Pansy. "It's her," she said. "She 
looks so peaceful."

"Wake the cow up, then," growled Pansy. "Look at the tits on her! They 
must weigh half a ton."

Suzanne shook Anastasia gently. Her bosom rocked from side to side like a 
whale caught in the wake of a supertanker. "Anastasia? Wake up."

"Wake up, you idle bitch," Pansy said, grabbing Anastasia's toe and 
twisting vigorously. The patient regained consciousness and looked about 
her without recognition.

"Oh, hi, you two." She didn't seem overjoyed to see them, and she winced 
as she realised her throat hurt.

"We've come to rub your chest!"

"What with?" asked Anastasia in panic.

"Vick. Make you all better. Here ..." Pansy offered the beaker to Anastasia, 
who sniffed it and sank back on her pillow.

"Sit up, love," Suzanne raised the limp girl up and wedged two pillows 
behind her.

"Let's undo your nightie," said Pansy. There were only three small buttons 
at the neck. They would never get a hand inside Anastasia's crowded 
bodice, not through that little gap. "Take it right off," she said.

There was a waft of unwashed girl as Suzanne peeled the nightie off over 
Anastasia's head.

"It's cold," she complained, shivering. The shivers carried on down the 
expanse of her breasts to the nipples, which vibrated interestingly. "It's 
freezing," she yelped, as Suzanne slapped a dollop of mixture on to the 
peak of her left breast. Pansy took another helping and did the same for 
her right.

"How's it feel," asked Pansy after a minute of rubbing.

"Mmmm, nice now. It's all warmed up! Put more on me, please."

The girls obliged. They were finding the stuff spreading rather better than 
they had feared. It easily covered the whole of Anastasia's generous 
fullness.

"Do you need to do underneath them like that?"

"They're all part of your chest, even underneath," insisted Suzanne. "It's all 
right, if we get any on your pussy where your boobs touch it, we'll wipe it 
off."

"Oh, good. I don't really have a cold in my pussy."

They finished off the beaker.

"Why is it in there, not in a jar?" Anastasia wanted to know. But her voice 
was drowsy, and it hurt to talk. She closed her eyes, and never even heard 
Pansy's and Suzanne's conflicting answers.

They covered her up and left her asleep. Impossible to get her nightie back 
on, now she was all sticky with cream.


**********

The lab was empty. So was the cousins' usual bench. They had tidied up 
after them. There was only one beaker of any description, and that 
appeared to be in the place where Anastasia usually worked. I picked it up 
and sniffed it.

Nothing. Was I getting a cold as well? I sniffed deeper. It still smelled of 
nothing. In the bottom of the beaker was a smooth, creamy substance. It 
must be the right one. The girls wouldn't be in here on a Saturday 
morning, anyway, so they wouldn't have taken their beaker out of the lab.

Quickly, I took the beaker and hurried out. Now to rub it on Corinne. 

Halfway across the quad, I changed my mind. The cream in the beaker was 
only about a quarter of an inch in the bottom. It would never be enough to 
cover Corinne's enormous breasts. It wouldn't even cover one of them. It 
was time for an instant decision. I turned right and headed for the sick 
quarters.

"How's the patient, Sister?" Nurse liked being called Sister.

"Sleeping. As well as can be expected. A further bulletin will be issued at 
..."

"I'll just pop in and see her, then. I won't disturb her."

Anastasia was snoring, on her back, in the hot little room. There was a 
combination of smells, of medicine, antiseptic, Menthol and moist girl. I 
crept closer and turned back the sheet. She wasn't wearing a nightie, and 
her breasts looked greasy. The nurse must have rubbed some Vick on her 
chest. Never mind, a little more rubbing would do her no harm.

She stirred in her sleep when I started rubbing, and one eye opened.

"Oh, 'lo, Miss!" She lay back, luxuriating in the feeling of warm hands 
caressing her breasts. "Mmm, that feels really lovely, Miss. I wish you 
could rub my tits all day! Ooooh, rub round the nipples. Yesss! And under 
there, and round the sides ...!"

Her breathing was shorter, and she was beginning to pant. Her hands were 
out of sight beneath the covers but it was wholly obvious where they were 
and what they were doing. I strove to concentrate, rubbing the cream into 
her soft skin, feeling the tautness of the flesh beneath my slick fingers as I 
worked over every warm inch of her heavenly globes. I returned to the 
nipples again and again, feeling the areolae becoming more and more 
puffy, the nipples erect and rubbery, springing upward between each pass 
of my searching hands.

We reached our climax at more or less the same time.

"Ooooooh, Miss! That was fantastic. Much better than when Suze and Pan 
rubbed me earlier! Can you come and do me again today, and tomorrow. 
Can you do me every day? What day is this, Miss?" she asked, as if 
remembering something.

"Saturday. It's all right. You're not missing any lessons."

"Oh, good! There's something you could do for me, if you would, Miss."

"Of course, darling. What is it?"

"Could you go in the lab, please? I was so busy with Sho yesterday 
morning doing the Steam and Lube factory, I didn't have a chance to finish 
something else I was doing. Something important."

"What do you want me to do, Anastasia?"

"Rub my tits again, Miss," she hissed urgently. "All over. Every bit. I think 
you missed a bit last time, Miss. Rub them, ooooooh, that's right. God, it 
feels so good!"

I had used up all the cream in the beaker, but I rubbed her anyway, and it 
seemed to make no difference, she enjoyed it just as much as before.

So did I. 

Anastasia fell sound asleep after her second or third orgasm, and I had 
tucked her up in the sheets again. I couldn't wait to get back to the 
bedroom and give Corinne a good seeing-to. I was halfway down the 
squeaking polished corridor on the way out, when I remembered that the 
girl had been about to tell me something. Something important in the 
laboratory. Could I wake her up for something as trivial?

She'd said it was important. I turned back.

"Oh, hi, Miss! What day is it? Have you come to rub me again?"

I hadn't, but I thought I might as well as we both enjoyed it so much. This 
time, I made a point of getting her to tell me what was so important in the 
lab.

"By my work bench, Miss. A beaker with some cream in the bottom. Can 
you wash it away down the waste disposal, Miss. It's the remains of an 
experiment, some stuff that went wrong. It has to be thrown away. I hate 
to think what might happen if any of the girls got hold of it and started 
rubbing it on anywhere."

"A beaker, by your bench. Throw it away. An experiment that went 
wrong." My voice had gone all monotonous on me.

"Finish rubbing me, Miss. Don't you dare go until you've finished me off 
again. I've never got off so many times with just my tits, Miss. Are yours 
the same, Miss? Can you come just by having yours rubbed, too? Oooooooh, 
I love having such huge ones. Yessss!"

She closed her eyes and shuddered softly. She was now in the lead by four 
to two, at least. I had to get back to Corinne! 

"I wish they were twice as big, Miss," Anastasia sighed.

"Just one thing, darling," I whispered, close to her ear. "The stuff in the lab 
that went wrong? What does it do?"

No answer. Anastasia was fast asleep.

I tiptoed out. I was halfway down the squeaking polished corridor on the 
way out, when I remembered something that Anastasia had said earlier. 
Something which hadn't registered at the time.





Part XIX





Chapter 55:- A New Project


"We haven't had one of these meetings for some time," said Moggie, leaning 
back on her chair. Facing her, across the green leather top of her desk, 
from left to right, Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, Miss Meadowlark, Miss 
Gruntworthy and Miss Mountains, her four trusty lieutenants. Presumably 
one of us was a Major and another a Captain, but Moggie treated us all as 
serfs, so the question of rank never arose.

I found myself staring at the odd-shaped mark made weeks ago by my 
gushing love-juices on the leather. Strange how it had left such an indelible 
stain, defying the cleaners' nightly efforts with the Mr Sheen. Moggie 
leaned back even more, and planted her feet on the desktop. I had time to 
register the fact that her shoes were highly unsuitable for the 
headmistress of a respected girls' High School. They were the type widely 
known as fuck-me shoes. Moggie was evidently off on one of her little trips 
this morning, and the purpose of the meeting was to stamp her authority 
on us before she went. Which of the school governors was she seeing this 
time, and where? Brighton, perhaps? Brisk walks by the shingle beach to 
build up an appetite for a couple of hours of intensive sex before 
breakfast, luncheon and dinner?

The four lieutenants all stood as one and peered anxiously over the top of 
the desk, to where Moggie lay sprawled in the wreckage of her chair. She 
had leaned back too far once too often. More expense, I thought, that chair 
would never be the same again.

"Fuck it," she said, summing up the situation. "I bet that's bye-bye to 
another pair of these things."

'These things' were apparently normal stockings or tights, but at the top 
they were dramatically cut away and were apparently self-supporting. Our 
headmistress, I observed, was not wearing any knickers, which was a 
matter of supreme indifference to me, but would no doubt strike Smegs as 
a criminal waste of good juices.

"Is nobody going to help me up?" Moggie enquired testily. Smegs was 
closest. She fumbled with bits of chair and finally heaved Moggie to her 
feet with cavalier roughness. "Thank you," said Moggie. She looked about 
her for a chair, and finally accepted the one Smegs placed in position for 
her. It was a little lower than the proper one, and we could see little more 
than her head, a slightly unnerving experience, like talking to the mortal 
remains of John the Baptist. Without the beard, of course.

"I want you to quickly run down what progress you are all making before 
I go off for a few days. Megan? How's this wretched film project coming?"

"We hope to restart shooting sometime this week," Smegs improvised 
smartly. "A bit of a problem with the star. Abi was apparently the victim 
of a schoolgirl prank with Breast Reducing Cream. She is more or less 
recovered, but there will be a continuity problem. She is no longer the 
same size as in her earlier scenes. We may, in fact, need to reshoot some of 
her earlier material."

"Not good enough, Megan. You should have foreseen this and taken 
appropriate action. Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen? New St Cat's School 
Song?"

"All written and ready for rehearsals. We shall make a recording and the 
accompanying video next week. I will sing you a few verses if you wish ..." 
Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen rose to her feet, clasped her hands in front of 
her chest and struck an attitude.

The rest of us covered our ears, but Moggie stepped in quickly. "Not 
necessary, Gwladys, thank you!"

Gwladys? What sort of a name was that, I thought. No wonder she 
preferred to be known simply as Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen. Moggie, 
meanwhile, had called on Corinne for her report on Support and Mobility.

"Wheelbarrow survey is complete, Miss," said Corinne, oozing quiet 
confidence. I began to ooze something else, none too quietly, and Smegs 
and Moggie looked sharply at me. Smegs, in fact, looked sharply up my 
skirt, to make sure I was wearing panties. Satisfied, she restored my 
decency, although she left her hand on my upper thigh, her fingers trailing 
lightly down between my legs.

Corinne sat down, noticed Smegs's hand, and added one of her own to the 
party, so that their fingers were practically touching between my aching 
thighs. Between them, they pushed my skirt up to reveal most of my 
underwear.

"How about you, Shan?" Moggie's head looked at me. "No, don't get up. No 
doubt those two randy bitches have got a hand in your pants!"

The two randy bitches evidently took this as permission. The crotch of my 
knickers was eased out of the way on both sides at once, and several 
fingers began pleasuring me.

"The First Form Sexual Chemistry Group is working on three projects," I 
quavered, my voice going up and down. "These are Lube, and its co-
product, Steam; and the new FatLite, which is intended to reduce the 
weight of fat, specifically in the breasts, while retaining the bulk. So far, 
successful trials have been carried out on a rabbit, Chauntaille, and 
possibly, it seems, on one girl, Anastasia. I shall report more fully when 
Anastasia comes out of the sick quarters."

Moggie raised her eyebrows.

"She has a cold," I explained.

"Poor child," sympathised Moggie. "Nobody loves a sick puppy."

It struck me that Anastasia's decidedly healthy-looking puppies had seen 
more than their fair share of loving on Saturday, but I decided not to 
mention it. Not until I had seen Anastasia today. Nurse had said she was 
not well enough for visitors all day Sunday. I had to see the First Form 
Sexual Chemistry Group as well. If, as seemed horribly likely, Suzanne and 
Pansy had rubbed Anastasia's chest with FatLite, and if I had rubbed her 
chest with ...

No, especially with all this attention I was getting between my legs, it was 
too much for my poor brain to take in.

"Last thing, then," Moggie glanced at the clock on the wall. She was 
obviously feeling ready for sex or something. "Foreign students. You will 
remember, I asked you to consider means of attracting new students from 
overseas. What progress?"

We racked our brains, without inspiration.

"There's one, Miss," I offered, without much hope. "Her stepmother has 
already applied for her to join us after the summer holidays. We saw her 
last night."

"What's her name?" Moggie thumbed through a dog-eared list.

Corinne and Smegs looked at me, they had obviously both forgotten Toots's 
name.

"Tessa Lashmore."

Moggie sniffed. "Doesn't sound very foreign to me!"

"It's not her real name. She's adopted. She's from Jamaica or somewhere."

"How big is she?"

Both Corinne and Smegs held out their disengaged hands to indicate 
something about four feet six tall.

Moggie lifted up her eyes unto the hills. "Not that. What's her bust size?"

"I haven't measured her, but she must be about seventy-six inches. A lot 
bigger than Megan, certainly." Smegs glowered a warning at me.

"Seventy-six inches, and only fifty four inches tall?" Moggie looked glum. 
"She does realise that she forfeits her free bras and blouses when she 
reaches eighty inches?"

"I don't believe she needs a ScatBra yet, but yes, we told her stepmother. 
She shrugged and said 'so be it'!" On those last words, my voice faded away 
altogether.

"What are you two doing to that girl down there?" Moggie stood up and 
glared over the desk.

"Nothing," admitted Corinne and Smegs, together, like guilty schoolgirls.

"What are they doing to you, Chauntaille?"

"Touching me, Miss. One of them touched my clittie, and the other one 
pushed her off. That was when I was trying to talk, Miss."

"God, you two. Isn't she big enough for the two of you? If you can't share 
her out, I'll stop you both playing with her altogether! Do I make myself 
clear."

"Yes, Miss!"

"I don't know why one of you can't play with Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn 
Owen's pussy. It would save so much trouble."

Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen shifted her chair as far as it would go away 
from the rest of us. Apparently she preferred not to have other girls 
playing with her private parts. If that was the way she wanted it, it was 
certainly okay by me.

"Meeting closed," announced Moggie, slamming her diary shut. "Have a 
good week. I will see you when I return." And she was gone. We heard her 
footsteps running down the corridor. Actually running! Shortly afterwards, 
the BMW departed with a squeal of rubber. We heard her horn blasting as 
she scattered girls on her way to the main gate. Moggie was late for an 
appointment.


**********

"Where does she keep it?" Smegs was on her hands and knees, rummaging 
in Moggie's desk drawers. "Stroke of luck her going off in such a rush and 
leaving her desk open. Where's she keep the booze?"

The office door opened and Miss Labia poked her head inside. "Bottom 
drawer, left hand side," she said, and withdrew.

"Here it is!" Smegs held up a bottle and an assortment of glasses and mugs. 
"Everyone?"

"Yes, please," we all said, apart from Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, who 
said nothing.

Smegs glugged golden liquid into three containers. "Drink, Gladys?"

"It's Gwladys," said Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, sullenly.

"Fine! Drink, Goo-laddus?"

"No thank you." Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen held her nose in the air. "I'll 
be leaving you. Some of us have work to do in the mornings." The door 
closed behind her.

"Toppers, anyone?"

We held out our glasses, and slurped noisily. Corinne was perched on the 
edge of Moggie's desk, in a position which gave me an unimpeded view up 
her skirt. I wasn't about to complain.

Smegs squinted at us owlishly over her brimming mug. She hiccupped 
gravely.

"Ash ... ackshully ... Ashkenazy. Actuary. Ah so!"

Her mind was wandering. It happens to her when she gets drunk.

"Actually," she said suddenly, enormously loudly and with exaggerated 
care, "there was something I wanted to say to you without Moggie's 
presence being present in the room." She thought about that for a while, 
but failed to find anything wrong with it. "I gotta new project."

"You gotta new project?" Slightly distracted, I watched as Corinne carefully 
put down her glass and slowly keeled over backwards until she was 
stretched out on her back on the desk with her legs akimbo. The view had 
improved immensely. I placed my face briefly between her thighs and 
snogged deeply on the damp gusset of her knickers. They tasted of silk and 
Cee. 

Smegs's voice reached me again, and I came back out with some regret. 
"You heard of Sindy? And Barbie Dolls? I gotta new project. Smeggy Dolls!"

"Do you think they would sell with a name like that?" I asked her.

Smegs looked genuinely hurt. "Whass wrong with it?"

"Nothing really, just the name, perhaps. But what about them? What is a 
Smeggy Doll?"

"I could describe it," grinned Smegs, digging me painfully in the thigh with 
a sharp finger, "but it'd be better to show you impersonally. In person. 
Personally. She arrived this morning in the post." Smegs stood up, swaying 
slightly, then settled at an angle of perhaps five degrees from the vertical. 
Not a lot, but enough to be worrying. "C'mon," she said, heading for the 
door. Wake Corinne up and bring her along, too!"


**********

We weaved our way in an imprecise little phalanx across the teeming 
quadrangle, the girls parting before us like the Red Sea. It was as if they 
realised that with the cream of the teaching staff drunk and incapable, 
there was not much going to be happening in the way of lessons this 
Monday morning. Even St Cat's girls saw this very much as Good News.

Up the stairs we went, past our bedroom door with some regret, and into 
Smegs's place. The bed was a pigsty of used panties in festering piles. Two 
naked Juniors were sorting through them in a jaded way. Smegs drove the 
girls off with a rolled-up newspaper, yelling at them to come back when 
they'd dressed decently.

This was their punishment for talking in class, she explained.

She picked up a large cardboard box and removed the lid. There was 
something wrapped in tissue paper inside. Smegs leered at us. "Here she is. 
Smeggy Doll!"

Inside the box lay a doll quite unlike any we had seen before. She - it was 
unmistakeably a she - was about a foot tall, blonde, with long legs 
protruding from an abbreviated skirt. A white blouse was stretched over a 
spherical bosom the size of two golf balls. The face was familiar. I glanced 
up at Smegs and back at the doll. Very familiar.

"It's just the prototype, but not bad, right?"

"She's just like you."

"A few details still to be added, but not a bad likeness. Well, what do you 
think?"

We stood, speechless. Smegs riffled through a heap of papers and waved a 
large sheet of printed material at us. "If you wondered where I've been 
lately, I've been busy on this. Look. The first advertisement!"

It was a full page size picture of a huge-breasted doll, dressed as if for an 
afternoon on the streets, its tight shorts riding up into a well-detailed 
crotch, if I wasn't mistaken, and its nipples like stalks beneath a tight top 
that revealed most of the undersides of its ballooning breasts. Across the 
bottom of the page was a simple slogan: 'Ready for Action, Men, with 
SMEGGY'.

While not entirely happy with the quality of the copywriting, I could see 
the good points of the doll. Turning to the box, I took Smeggy out and 
examined her. She was made of a softly yielding latex material, entirely 
lifelike, almost warm to the touch. The breasts squashed in beneath my 
thumbs, the hair was long and silky, unbelievably fine. On an impulse, I 
turned Smeggy upside down and removed her delicate panties. The detail 
was exquisite. All the right holes were there, a generous growth of pubic 
hair even. With shaking fingers, I handed her to Corinne, who touched the 
doll intimately in a number of places which I would never even have 
suspected Corinne would have known about.

"As I say," Smegs said again. "The production version will have more detail. 
Her breasts will grow. She will become moist when you touch her in the 
right places. We can have a version that pisses herself with excitement, or 
shits if she's not careful. She will menstruate every twenty-eight days, 
unless she's late, which will be determined by what she's been getting up 
to over the previous month. Imagine, you could change her little tampons. 
Perfect training for young girls setting out on life's great adventure. Or if 
you prefer it, she can lactate, giving real milk every four hours."

"Gosh!"

"Best of all, she's only the first of the series. There'll be Shannie Doll, and 
Cee Doll. Maybe even Moggie Doll, and the girls of the First Form Sexual 
Chemistry Group? Suzanne and Pansy, Anastasia and Shona." Smegs had a 
dreamy expression, gazing into the distance, looking sickeningly like the 
leader of Her Majesty's Loyal Opposition, a Person of Vision.

"Don't be such a pratt, Smegs," I told her. "Who could afford to buy these?"

"Nineteen-ninety-nine the basic model," she crowed. "Twenty-nine-ninety-
nine with bodily functions. They'll come with one set of clothes, other 
accessories are extra. St Cat's uniforms, self-growing breasts, self-soiling 
panties, a full range of girl smells, wheelbarrows ... you name it, we'll 
market it. Smeggy Dolls are going to be huge. Actually, two inches to the 
foot, so if adult collectors of miniatures want to buy them, they will easily 
be able to keep measuring them every day, monitoring their constant 
development!"

She made a note of something on a notepad as an idea occurred to her. 
"Attention to detail, you see, " she said, "the little things that count. Pads of 
forms to enter the doll's measurements every week as she gets bigger ..."

"This one isn't growing, though." Corinne placed the doll back in its box and 
looked up at Smegs.

"It wouldn't be, would it. It's me, that's why!"





Chapter 56:- Death Of A Model


We did eventually get round to starting some lessons that morning. I kept 
eyeing up different girls and thinking how they would look as a Smeggy 
Doll. Not good for the concentration. How would it affect the school? What 
would parents think, having bought their daughter a Smeggy Doll for her 
birthday, and finding themselves lumbered with the task of washing 
dozens of pairs of minute soiled panties. Of finding tiny tampons floating in 
a blood-stained toilet? How did one set about educating a doll which came 
with disgraceful habits as standard and sluttish clothing as optional extras?

I came back to earth. Suzanne was saying something. She sounded upset.

"Miss, it's Chauntaille! She's disappeared!"

For some reason, that brought a chill to my veins. I had to pat myself to 
make sure I was still there.

"Her cage is still locked, and so was the door to the store room. I fed her 
every day, including yesterday evening. But this morning, she's not there."

"She can't be gone. Perhaps the cleaners moved her somewhere else."

"No. Nobody goes in there. Not even the cleaners. She's disappeared. Miss?"

She was staring at me desperately.

"I think she's crawled through the gap under the door and got out that 
way. Like mice, Miss!"

"Oh, Suze! She's much too fat for that!"

"But we've been trying to alter her structure, Miss. Maybe we went too far 
and now she can make herself flat, like a piece of cardboard. Oh, Miss, she 
could be anywhere! She could have wandered on to the road and got run 
over."

"And squashed flat?" I wished I hadn't said that. It seemed to distress 
Suzanne, who clung to me. Despite being entirely natural, she was 
noticeably bigger around than Anastasia. I enjoyed the sensation for a 
short while before thrusting her from me with sadness. "Darling, we'll find 
her! We can get dogs to go and look for her."

"But they'll eat her."

I refrained from pointing out that the best way to eat Chauntaille the flat 
rabbit would be between two large slices of bread. That was when the 
thought occurred to me. We had been using Chauntaille the rabbit as a 
guinea pig. And the same chemical we had used on the rabbit, we had 
probably used on Anastasia. That poor child. Would she end up by 
escaping under the door? And as if it wasn't bad enough that I had 
authorised rubbing the stuff on a human ...

Another thought brought a chill to my veins. One way and another, it was a 
good morning for chilled veins. I had nearly had the stuff rubbed on 
Corinne! Oh my God!

As if rubbing it on Anastasia and making *her* disappear under the door 
wasn't sufficiently bad news. I thought I'd better get over to the sick bay 
and find out. Perhaps she had already disappeared! What if Nurse had 
gone in to take her temperature and found her gone. That was why she 
had told us Anastasia was too ill to have visitors yesterday! The poor child 
might have slipped down a crack in the floorboards, or anything.

The lunch bell sounded, and Suzanne shot off, her grief over Chauntaille 
the rabbit instantly forgotten. I girded up my loins and set course for the 
sick bay. I had gone no more than half a dozen paces when my resolve 
took another blow. Not only had Anastasia been creamed with suspect 
FatLite, the same mixture which had removed a fat rabbit without trace, I 
had come along and anointed her breasts with something else. Not just 
anything else, but a mysterious chemical made up of who knew what?

So if we needed an antidote, we hadn't the foggiest idea where to start 
formulating it.


**********

Fortunately, I didn't have to go directly to the sick quarters. A diversion 
presented itself.

Smegs was waving to me. She seemed more than usually animated. I 
stopped and waited for her to catch up. She had a package under her arm.

"What's in there?" I asked.

"The second prototype Smeggy, I hope. They promised to send it on. Let's 
go and have a look!"

She led me into the staff room, already tearing at the wrapping. A letter 
fell out and she handed me the box. "Carry on opening that, I'll read this."

The box was certainly well secured with sticky tape and brown paper. I 
tore away at it, breaking my nail.

"It's the dynamic model," Smegs gurgled with joy. "Hurry up with it. It has 
the following new features incorporated: auto-inflation, auto-micturition, 
auto-balancing. 'Further features will follow in the next prototype. 
Assuring you of our best attention at all times, yours faithfully ...' haven't 
you got it open yet. Here, use a knife!" She found a knife in one of the 
drawers and hacked away at the parcel tape. Finally, she ripped her way 
in.

Dolly, the Dynamic Model lay in a cocoon of pale pink tissue paper. Almost 
the same size as the original Smegs version, this one had a horribly pretty 
doll-like face. I hated her at first sight.

"Christ, look at the state of her," said Smegs. 

"Ugly, or what?" I agreed.

Her breasts were disappointingly small, probably no more than an F cup in 
real life, and she was dressed in a ridiculous gingham dress, like a Fifties 
Housewife in an ad for a Morris Minor. Smegs lifted her out and stood her 
on the table. Amazingly, a little buzzing sound started up somewhere 
inside, and the doll balanced magically, swaying backwards and forwards 
but never falling over.

"Golly, she's just like you when you've had a few pints too many," I said. 
"How do you make her piss herself?"

Smegs studied a wad of typed instruction sheets. "They'll be able to reduce 
the instructions to something more manageable later, I suppose," she said 
doubtfully. "Ah, this is it. 'Micturition. Ensure reservoir is full. Always refill 
with clean water.' Bloody spoilsports. Still, there's no reason why you 
shouldn't fill her with piss. If you've paid for her, she's yours to do with as 
you wish. 'Gently hold doll upright and stroke stomach with finger from 
top to bottom.' Come on, then, Dolly! Look," she squealed, "It's working!"

It was, too! As Smegs stood Dolly on the table and gently raised the hem of 
the skirt, we watched in awe as a damp patch spread across the crotch of 
the pale blue panties. Water began to trickle down the doll's leg, and a 
small pool formed around her feet.

"It doesn't say how you turn her off. I suppose it's just like the real thing. 
She just goes until she's empty."

"Haven't you ever tried stopping, Smegs? It's great. I can stop ten times 
during a piss, now, even if I'm bursting. It's the same muscles you use for 
..."

"I don't really wish to know the secrets of Chauntaille Gruntworthy's toilet 
habits, thank you. If I do, be assured I will ask you."

I lapsed into silence.

"I wonder how you make her tits bigger," Smegs said, turning the pages of 
instructions faster and faster. "Yes. It's here. 'Rub both breasts 
simultaneously with tips of fingers.' I assume that's the doll's breasts 
they're talking about. 'Several minutes of stimulation may be required.' 
They must mean the doll. It only takes me ten seconds. Here goes."

The little buzzing noise intensified as Smegs placed a supporting hand 
behind the doll's back and gently massaged her breasts. She giggled. "It's 
getting warm inside, and her nips are getting all pointy, look!"

She let go and Dolly stood there, swaying on her own. The nipples had 
expanded and the thin material of the frock was being pushed into points.

"She's not wearing a bra," I whispered, "the wanton little hussy!"

"Just as well," said Smegs, "look at her tits!"

Dolly was noticeably fuller in the bust now. Without any sudden inflation, 
she was growing slowly and steadily before our eyes. She kept her balance 
by a miracle as she expanded, even when her breasts became too big for 
the bodice of the dress, and the stitching gave way down one side. She was 
leaning slightly backward now, like a pregnant woman, and interestingly, 
the breasts were not just expanding as if being blown up by an air pump, 
they were getting heavier and hanging lower on her torso.

"Look at the things," said Smegs again, quite unnecessarily.

We both gasped as the dress gave way some more, and Dolly's breasts 
pushed out into the full light of day, the pointy nipples leading the way as 
they swayed and swung lower and lower, beyond her waist. At the same 
time, they spread out to the sides, despite being pressed tightly together in 
the middle. The buzzing changed in pitch, like a bus driving up a hill and 
changing gear. It was getting serious. The breasts shuddered and swung 
more heavily still, actually bouncing now. They had reached her stomach.

"Does it tell you how to stop them?" I said.

"You want to stop them?"

"No, but ... if this goes on ..."

"Let's see how big she gets. Anyway, it doesn't tell you how to stop them. I 
suppose that's for the production version."

They were down to her crotch now, and wider than the rest of her body. 
While she swayed to and fro, the doll had turned herself round so her back 
was facing us.

"Take her dress off altogether," I whispered to Smegs. She hesitated a 
moment, then lifted the doll off the table, leaving the dress to fall off into 
the puddle of piss. I wiped it up with the dress, now only a dishrag, and 
tossed it away. The doll was standing in just her panties now, and her 
breasts were down to her thighs.

"Is she as big as me?" I asked Smegs.

"Hers are bigger than yours,"said Smegs, crushingly. "Yours are dangly. 
Hers are nearly as big as Corinne's." Smegs can be very heartless at times.

Despite the huge weight of the things, the mechanism was doing a fine job 
of maintaining balance. Down to her knees, and beyond, and so wide, each 
one was as wide as her hips, which were pleasingly full beneath the tight, 
wet knickers. She had found a few more drops of piss from somewhere, 
and let it go. I was sure she felt better for it.

"Jeez, they're as big as Shona's now," I gasped.

"Bigger than hers. More like Cassandra's!"

Dolly gave a few tiny bunny hops across the table as she struggled to keep 
herself upright. The mountainous breasts bounced massively in front of 
her. Her bland, stupidly pretty face gazed across at us, smiling amiably.

"There she goes," cried Smegs as the auto-balance threw in the towel, and 
the doll toppled forward on to her face. Not that she got that far, of course. 
Her breasts swung forward and outwards as soon as she overbalanced, and 
she rolled on top of them, her legs in the air. She even spread her legs in 
an utterly obscene manner. Pretty doll face or no pretty doll face, this 
Dolly was one horny little bitch. She rolled over on to one side, then as she 
continued to grow, flopped on to her back, lying there helplessly between 
the great mounds of ballooning flesh.

"I think she's had enough, Smegs, try to stop it, please!"

"No! Leave her alone!"

"But she's going to explode!"

"Serve her right, the ugly cow!"

Dolly's tits were like small slightly pointed melons now, and would have 
been quite acceptable F cups on a normal girl, let alone one only eleven 
inches tall. And they hadn't finished growing. Whatever miracle material 
she was made of, it was getting close to its limits.

"What do you think she's full of, inside those things?" I asked.

"Something liquid, by the look of it."

"It's going to make one hell of a mess in here."

"Nah, she'll be all right!"

"In that case, Megan, what are you doing over here behind this bookcase?"

"I'm keeping you company."

We watched the doll roll gently on to her side, then on to her back again. 
Her legs had opened wide, I noticed. I think if her face hadn't been so 
sickeningly pretty, I could have quite fancied that little doll. Pity it had to 
end this way.

Any moment now. I felt a sense of great calm come over me, as I reached 
out for Smegs's hand.

The end, when it came, was messy. At the precise moment the staff room 
door opened, and Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen came in, Dolly the Dynamic 
Model exploded with staggering violence, splattering shreds of sticky latex 
all over the walls, the windows, the ceiling and Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn 
Owen. The liquid boob filling was even stickier. It was bright yellow and 
formed itself into strings as it exploded in all directions. Everything it 
touched was covered with fluorescent yellow cobwebs, which hardened 
into brittle, glassy fibres as soon as they made contact with the air. Or in 
Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen's case, the hair.

Nurse had to cut most of it off, which was a shame, really.


**********

"It was only a prototype, Shan! They'll sort the bugs out before we start 
selling them, there are bound to be teething troubles with the world's first 
ever doll with growing breasts!"

"I can't help thinking about a poor child being injured by a Smeggy Doll 
exploding. St Cat's would be ruined. All this that we've worked for, gone 
for the sake of a twenty-nine-ninety-nine doll."

"No, it's gone up. Forty quid now with balance, piss and growing boobs. 
Fifty if you want periods or milk as well. Sixty if it gets pregnant and has a 
baby. Seventy-five if it has twins: that's the doll that looks like the 
Doubleday twins. A hundred and fifty the pair. If one gets preggers, so 
does the other."

It was a nightmare. The thought of all these wretched exploding dolls; 
children maimed, their hair shaved off; stinking, shitting dolls filled with 
stale urine and other unmentionable substances. Smegs had made some 
bum moves before, but this must be her worst ever.





Chapter 57:- Sick


No longer could I escape my responsibilities. Disappearing rabbits, 
exploding dolls were of no importance compared with the child who now 
lay in the sick quarters. Or didn't, as the case may be. This time, I would 
not be diverted from my task. I set my face toward the sick bay, closed my 
eyes against all earthly temptations and walked on as straight a course as I 
could. Perhaps I should have opened them a little sooner.

A group of Fourth Formers helped me out of the fountain. Mercifully, it 
was still turned off to save the planet. Regrettably, without the water 
circulation intended by the designer, the foot or so of rainwater was 
covered with pungent green slime. The girls sat me on the edge of the pool 
and backed away several paces.

"Phworr, Miss, you dunnarf stink!"

"It's not me, you daft cow, it's this fucking water," I explained as kindly as 
possible.

"You ought to keep your eyes open, Miss. You could have had an accident."

"I suppose you think this was intentional," I told the girl. I was cold and 
wet, and inclined to heavy irony. "Give me a hand up." Two of them 
reluctantly heaved me to my feet then retired to a safe distance. With all 
the dignity I could muster, I made my way up to the staff quarters, 
leaving a trail of slime behind me.

Half an hour later, Corinne found me huddled in front of the fire, 
smothered in towels and shivering like a plate of blancmange.

"There's hell of a stink in the showers," she said, and a great heap of wet 
clothes ... shit, what's up with you?"

"I fell id the fountid," I shuddered numbly. "They're my clothes out there."

"Smegs was looking at them. She took your panties away."

"Oh, God!"

Corinne hurried away and came back a couple of minutes later with a 
steaming mug. "Here, love, get yourself wrapped round that. You should 
have told me, I'd have come and looked after you."

The mug seemed to contain hot lemon juice or something like that. It felt 
comforting. It was too hot to drink down in one go, I had to sip at it slowly.

"You ought to be in the sick quarters," said Corinne. "Where were you going 
when you fell in the fountain?"

"The sick quarters. To see Anastasia!"

"Well, you'll be able to see her for the next couple of days. I'm going to 
phone the nurse. Drink up, and I'll dig out some warm clothes for you."

So I did get to the sick quarters, after all, but about two hours later than I 
had intended.


**********

Nurse came fussing in and shoved a thermometer in my mouth.

"Leave it in there," she snapped.

"Hnnf Amfavia?"

"What?"

I removed the thermometer. "How's Anastasia?"

"Put that back," screamed Nurse. "How can I take your temperature and do 
a million other things if you keep taking the bloody thermometer out of 
your mouth?"

"I only took it out once. Well, twice now."

She thrust it back in again. Miserable cow. She strode around glaring at her 
watch, whipped the thermometer out and looked at it with rage on her 
face.

"You're SICK!" she screamed.

"That's why I'm here," I tried to argue, but my throat hurt.

"Lie down! Sit up, drink this! Don't spill it! God, you are worse than one of 
the girls. You'll be bursting into tears next! There, what did I tell you?"

"What about Anastasia? Is she all ri ...?"

She'd already gone.


**********

"What can we take her as a present, Pan?"

"We don't have to give her a present, Suze, she's only got a cold. It's not as 
if she's been away, or died, or anything."

"It would be nice. Just a bunch of grapes or something."

"She gets fed in there. Same as us. They give her all her meals. I think 
she'll be happy just to see us. Come on, let's go, then we can be back in 
time for lunch. You coming, Shona?"

"Where?" Shona sat gloomily at her desk. She wanted milking, but hadn't 
the energy to get up and use the class breast pump.

"The hospital," said Suzanne. "Sick quarters. To see Anastasia. Come on, she 
likes you best of all."

"Nobody likes me," grumped Shona, but she got up anyway, feeling the 
dampness around her nipples as she leaked into her bra cups. "I need 
milking," she complained miserably.

"Oh, you poor old thing!" Suzanne hugged her big friend. "Have we got time 
to milk her before we go, Pan?"

"Only if you want to miss your lunch. Why couldn't she milk herself 
regularly like the other girls, instead of waiting until she leaks all over the 
place. Look at her!"

Suzanne looked at her, and Shona looked at herself.

"Oh, you two can go and see Staze. I'll stay here and get milked. It's too far 
to walk with these things, and I can't be bothered getting my barrow down 
that rough path to the sick quarters. Give her my love." She sighed heavily 
and sat down again. As soon as the two cousins had gone, Shona laid her 
head on her arms and cried her eyes out.


**********

I heard the two girls come into the sick quarters. The door banged back 
against the wall with a crash, and there was a lot of exaggerated shushing.

"What was that? What's all the noise? What do you two want?"

Nurse believed in a barrage of unanswerable questions. She was just 
outside the door of my room.

"You must be quiet in here," she bellowed. "There are sick people trying to 
sleep!"

"We wanted to see our friend," said Suzanne in a tiny voice.

"Shut UP! You come in here, yelling your heads off ... what friend?"

"Anastasia."

"You can't see her."

"But we saw her on Saturday, and she was getting better. We rubbed Vick 
on her chest."

"You can't see her now."

"Is she worse?"

"You can't see her. Get out."

"But ..."

"And don't argue. You're arguing, right outside the room of a seriously ill 
patient."

That's me, I thought, feeling sorry for myself.

"Anastasia's not seriously ill, she's only got a cold ..."

"You can not see Anastasia, and it's Miss Gruntworthy who is ill. Now get 
out and don't come back!" 

Her footsteps turned and squeaked away down the corridor. Somewhere in 
the distance, a door slammed. Nurse would by now be curled up in front of 
her television, eating chocolates. It had gone quiet out there. Then I heard 
the door handle turn and the creak of the hinges.

"Miss?"

"You all right, Miss?"

They stood on each side of my bed, looking desperately anxious. I pulled 
the sheet down an inch and said hello.

"Oh, Miss. Nurse said you were dying." I didn't remember that bit, but 
perhaps she'd said it quietly.

"We came to see Anastasia, Miss." Suzanne peered at me imploringly. "Have 
you seen her?"

"Not yet," I croaked hoarsely. "Nurse won't let me."

"But you're a teacher, Miss," Pansy sounded outraged. "Tell her to get 
stuffed."

"She can't do that, Pan. Nurse might poison her medicine. I bet she's 
poisoned Anastasia, that's why she won't let us see her. She's waiting until 
it's dark then she can bury the body."

"Don't say things like that, Suze, it might be true."

I looked from one to the other, wondering whether to tell them the story 
about rubbing Anastasia's chest. I wondered if they had worked out for 
themselves that Anastasia had been shrunk to the thickness of a sheet of 
cardboard and had slipped out under the door.

Somewhere in the school, a bell sounded.

"It's lunchtime, Pan." Suzanne dragged her cousin away. "We'll come and 
visit you later, Miss. Bring you some grapes and stuff."

"Don't die, Miss. Losing Anastasia was bad enough!"


**********

Nurse even bullied Corinne when she came visiting with a bottle of orange 
juice and a pile of books.

"You can have five minutes," she yelled. "The patient is ill. How can I get 
that simple fact into your thick skulls, you people?"

"I won't be long," Corinne murmured, "and thank you for letting me see 
her." She slipped into the room and perched her bottom on the chair. She 
looked good, even if I was dying. "Hello, lover!"

"Hi!"

"Brought you some drink, and a couple of books. How's the voice?"

"Fine!"

"Sounds like it. Look, I've got to go, got a class. You take care, okay?" I felt 
a little kiss on the forehead and she slipped out as silently as she had 
arrived.


**********

Nurse shouldn't have crossed swords with Smegs. I could have told her it 
was a bad idea.

"Five fucking minutes? I will take five hours if I feel like it, Nursey, all 
right!"

My bestest friend burst in. "Who does that cow think she is?" she raged, 
slamming down on the bed and setting the whole thing bouncing. "I've 
brought you some stuff." She dumped a carrier bag on the bedside table. 
"Food." She sounded awkward and embarrassed. "And for when you're 
feeling better, some panties to sort out. No rush, I'll collect them in the 
morning. See you later."

It wasn't Smegs style, ministering to the sick. I peeked into the bag of food. 
The packet of chocolate chip cookies were my favourites. Pity about my 
sore throat. And I would peel that great big orange when my fingers felt a 
bit stronger. And a nice bag of porky scratchings. Smegs must have been to 
the pub specially to buy those for me.

Tears came to my eyes. I realised it was the bag of panties. Fortunately, 
my sense of smell was diminished, but I could still smell these. They were 
unreservedly dreadful. I turned over a few pairs, my mind subconsciously 
grading them as A, A+C, B, and so on. Mine were in there, I noticed, still 
thick with green slime.

Tomorrow would do for those. If I felt up to it. I sank back on the pillow 
and tried to sleep. I was drifting away, when Nurse came in to plump up 
my pillows and take my temperature again. She seemed so cross that it 
was going down, just as she had been cross while it was going up.

"Go to sleep," she snapped, when I started to ask her about Anastasia 
again. I tried to explain to her that was what I had been trying to do when 
she interrupted me. A complete waste of time.


**********

I felt a lot better in the morning. Probably not quite up to pantie-sorting, 
and feeling a little light-headed, but well enough to get out of bed. My 
thoughts were clear enough to work out my plan of action. I knew where 
Anastasia's room was, the next one down the corridor, on the same side as 
my room. The loo was further on, round the corner, on the left. If Nurse 
found me wandering around, I had the excuse that I was busting for a piss.

The polished floor was icy cold, and the corridor was freezing after the 
fuggy warmth of my room. I had to fight to overcome the temptation to 
crawl back into my cosy bed. I crept along, my nipples feeling like icicles 
crowded inside the top of my nightdress.

Here was the door to Anastasia's room. I had my hand on the door handle 
and was about to go in, but suddenly realised that I did, after all, need to 
pay a visit to the loo. It must have been the sudden chill out there in the 
corridor.

I waddled on down the corridor and turned the corner, then dived into the 
toilets. Five minutes later, not feeling very well at all, I made my way back 
toward Anastasia's room. I stood, poised, wondering whether to open it, 
and finally made my decision. I flung the door wide and stepped inside.

It was pitch dark.

I fumbled for a light switch, found it, and stared around as the light came 
on. From floor to ceiling, the room was lined with shelves, laden with 
sheets, blankets, roller towels, boxes of tampons, toilet rolls, paper towels, 
baby requisites, breast pumps still in the makers' boxes, surgical dressings. 
Mops and buckets stood in rows. Cans of floor polish, drums of disinfectant, 
boxes of soap and detergent.

This was the wrong room. I backed out again and closed the door.

Again, I stood, ready to open the door of the next room. Quick, before 
Nursey comes. I darted inside, ready to greet Anastasia with a cheery 
word. Would she be flat as a piece of cardboard. Would Nurse have rolled 
her up, tied a string around her middle and stood her neatly in the corner?

The bed was empty, although the covers had been turned back. On the 
bedside table was a carrier bag, a bottle of orange juice and a heap of 
books. On the floor, a black dustbin bag had fallen over and spilled several 
pairs of stained panties.

But the other room was a store room, and this was MINE. Where was 
Anastasia's room? I was IN IT! Anastasia was gone. She had been 
disappeared. It was true, everything I had feared was true!

Numbly, I climbed into the bed and pulled the covers over me. Then I 
began to shiver. I was still shivering when Nurse came in and took my 
temperature.

"You poor girl, you're freezing. Here, I'll fetch you some more blankets and 
a hot drink. You should have rung your bell instead of suffering in silence. 
Really, what are we going to do with you?"

She squeezed my hand and left the room. Was this a nightmare? When was 
it going to end?

As I drifted off to sleep, my mind wandered in ever decreasing circles. 
Disappearing schoolgirls, disappearing rabbits, the thickness of pieces of 
cardboard, their breasts getting bigger and bigger, lighter and lighter ...





Part XX





Chapter 58:- Join The Club 


I sat up suddenly in bed, wondering where I was. My head spun and I lay 
back down again. Gradually, things swam back into focus. Smegs's bag of 
cookies, porky scratchings and a huge orange was still on the bedside table. 
The black bag of panties was on the floor: someone had tied the neck of the 
bag closed since last night. Or was it last night? What was the time now? 
The heavy curtains were drawn and not a chink of daylight came through. 
I could vaguely remember getting out of bed, yesterday morning, was it, or 
this morning; and looking for Anastasia. I hadn't even found her bedroom. 
The bedroom which had been Anastasia's was the one I was occupying.

Nurse wouldn't tell me what she had done with Anastasia. Nobody had 
even seen the girl since the day I had rubbed something on to her breasts. 
I had reason to believe that the girls of the First Form Sexual Chemistry 
Group had been to see Anastasia before me, and had rubbed her breasts 
with something else. In theory, it had been FatLite, their new product 
intended to alter the structure of fat in the breasts to make it lighter. Had 
it made her disappear? No, girls didn't disappear. Not in the nineteen-
nineties.

Corinne had thrown a spanner in the works with her suggestion that 
FatLite wouldn't work the way we had hoped and expected. It was 
designed to leave the breasts at their original size, with about half the 
weight. Corinne said the breasts would retain the same weight, but they 
would expand to twice their original volume. Distinctly worrying, that sort 
of thing.

And here I was, the Sexual Chemistry Teacher, coming along after the girls 
of the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group; rubbing Anastasia's breasts with 
another unknown substance, thinking it was FatLite. From what Anastasia 
had told me, I was mistaken: it was something else entirely, an experiment 
that had gone wrong. Throw it away, she had begged me. Too late for that, 
I had splurged it all over the girl's breasts, and the fact that both of us had 
derived considerable pleasure from the process was little consolation.

As the girls' Sexual Chemistry Teacher, I couldn't believe I had done that.

Lying there in bed, thinking all these things, I was feeling worse and 
worse. My problems had not gone away. They were all still right there.

Somewhere outside the bedroom, I heard voices, getting closer. One was 
little more than a mumble, too quiet to hear what it said, or whose voice it 
was. But I heard the reply, all right. Nurse could never be accused of not 
speaking up for herself. Especially as by now she was just outside my 
bedroom door.

"... think she'd been wandering around this morning. I went in to her room 
and she was freezing cold, poor thing. I gave her a hot drink with 
something in it, and she's been asleep all day."

"What was she doing, wandering around?" That was Corinne! Corinne was 
talking to the nurse. I lay still, not breathing, and listened.

"I think she was probably looking for Anastasia. She keeps asking me 
where she is, and what I've done with her. I keep telling her, Anastasia's 
shouldn't really be seeing visitors, the way she is at the moment. I've 
moved her to another room, next to my office. Just her and her pet rabbit."

"Is she all right, the girl ...?" The voices were fading away into the distance, 
obviously Corinne was being escorted off the premises. The outer door 
opened.

Even Nurse's voice was too far off to hear clearly now. "Mumble mumble 
mumble ... but definitely, definitely pregnant! Still, what else would you 
expect?" And Nurse laughed, a chilling sound.

But I heard that word all right. Pregnant! Great joke, Nurse. The door 
closed and footsteps squeaked past the door. They stopped and I heard the 
rattle of the door handle. Quickly, I feigned sleep, slowing down my 
breathing. I sensed rather than heard Nurse come in, and I imagined her 
standing over me, looking down. I never even heard her leave, and when I 
went through the motions of stirring and opening my eyes, she had gone.

Lying there in the darkness, I mulled over this latest disaster. Pregnant! 
Poor Anastasia. Still no more than a child, she had obviously been holding 
out on us all about some moment of weakness a few weeks ago. I sent my 
mind racing back over the events of the recent past. Was there a time 
when Anastasia might have been intimate with a boy, perhaps while under 
the bizarre influence of some chemical contamination?

Probably, I thought. It could have happened on any one of half a dozen 
occasions. Tears of frustration and self-pity trickled down my cheek and I 
couldn't even be bothered to wipe them off.


**********

"What do you mean, Shona? YOU stole Chauntaille?"

"I didn't steal her, Pan. I took her out of her cage. It was cruel, what you 
were doing to her. She was all sticky."

"It was an experiment. You want us to try these chemicals out on *girls* 
before they are ready for use on humans. We have to use animals. And 
Chauntaille wasn't suffering. She was enjoying it. She used to purr when 
we rubbed cream on to her."

"Rabbits don't purr. That's cats. Rabbits get angry and growl."

"She wasn't growling, she was happy. And you stole her. What did you do 
with her?" Pansy sneered. "I suppose you let her out in the fields to get 
eaten by foxes. Chauntaille was a tame rabbit. She wouldn't know how to 
survive out there in the wild. She'll be sticky now, all right, poor thing, if 
she hasn't been eaten; bones, skin and all!"

Shona went pale. She was close to tears again. "I didn't let her go, Pan. I 
gave her to Anastasia."

"You gave her ...? But Anastasia's sick."

"I gave her to Darren to take down to Nurse. He said he was going that 
way. Apparently he goes down to the sick quarters a few nights every 
week, and he said he'd take Chauntaille with him and give her to Anastasia 
to keep her company. He was even going to find a little cage for her to go 
in Anastasia's bedroom."

"I don't know what we're going to do. Someone has to tell Suzanne. She'll 
go mad. And Miss Gruntworthy, she knows, too. We'll have to tell her. 
She'll be really worried about that poor rabbit, you know how she is about 
helpless dumb animals. If only you'd said something, Shona."

"I wanted to, but you didn't give me a chance. It's Suzanne's fault, she 
never listens to anything I say."


**********

"She never listens to anything I say," I complained to Smegs. This time it 
really *was* morning. She had opened the curtains. "I ask her questions, 
but she doesn't listen. She's a nurse, she's supposed to be sympathetic and 
considerate. She's a caring professional."

"Haven't you sorted those knickers yet?" Smegs said crossly. "Two days ago 
I gave you them and you've done nothing. God knows what they'll be like 
by now ..." She untied the top of the bag and staggered back a few paces. 
"Bloody hell," she said. "I thought so. They've gone off. I wonder if we can 
charge an extra ten per cent ..."

I don't think she'd been listening. Why did nobody ever listen to a word I 
said? I wondered for a moment about telling Smegs about Anastasia's 
pregnancy, but her mind was concentrated upon soiled panties and making 
money.

There was a tentative knock on the door and Suzanne's head appeared.

"Can we come in and visit you, Miss?" The two cousins came into the 
bedroom.

"I was just leaving," said Smegs, hoisting the sack over her shoulder. "I'll 
take these. If you can't do these simple little things for me, I'd better not 
bring you any more. You don't really deserve to be allowed to sort panties, 
Shan. I'll see you later."

"Phworr. Was that panties in that sack?" Suzanne fanned the air with one 
of the paperback books Corinne had brought me.

"I've got a cold. I can't smell anything," I said.

"You're lucky, Miss." She perched on the bed.

Pansy stood awkwardly on the other side. "Did you hear about Chauntaille, 
Miss. The rabbit," she amplified, seeing my momentary confusion. "She's in 
with Anastasia, Miss. So she didn't escape under the door, Miss."

"They'll be company for each other," I said. "Anastasia will need some 
company in the next few months. After that, she'll have all the company 
she needs. Have you visited her yet?"

"No, Miss. Nurse won't let us. She threw us out last time. That's why we 
didn't ask her if we could visit you. We just wanted to tell you about the 
rabbit, to save you worrying and everything."

"Thank you, Pansy! I'm glad you came. There's something I have to tell you 
as well. I want you to promise me you won't tell anyone. It's a secret. Can 
you keep a secret?"

"Ooooh, yes, please, Miss," whispered Suzanne, clapping her hands together 
and bobbing up and down on the bed. I watched her breasts wobble, 
something they did quite magnificently. It was what Suzanne's breasts did 
best.

"It concerns Anastasia," I said. "She's the same age as you, isn't she?"

"No, she's eleven and a half, Miss. She ages older than us."

"Well, in some ways she's older. In one way, you see, she's become a 
woman. Anastasia's pregnant. She's going to have a baby!"

There was a stunned silence.

"Gosh!" gasped Pansy at last.

"Golly! agreed Suzanne.

"Is she very pregnant, Miss?" asked Pansy.

"As far as I know, Pansy, she's completely pregnant. You either are or you 
aren't."

"But when, Miss? Is she going to have a baby? Will she have it before she 
leaves school, Miss?"

"At a rough guess, she'll be having it in about seven months and a bit. 
That's normal."

"I wouldn't, Miss!" Suzanne was adamant. "If I was pregnant, I'd wait until 
I left school and got married."

My brain wasn't quite up to all this. "Now, remember what I told you. You 
aren't to tell anyone. You have to keep the secret and let Anastasia break 
the news herself."

"Yes, Miss." Suzanne was on her feet and desperately anxious to go. "Come 
on, Pan. We've got Sex in five minutes."

"Gosh! We can't miss that. Later, Miss!"

"Later, girls."


**********

I came out of the toilets and paused. Instead of heading back to my room, I 
turned left. Nurse's office was ahead of me, so the room on the left had to 
be Anastasia's. I had to see her, and find out why Nurse was being so 
secretive. A quick look through Nurse's half open office door showed 
Darren sprawled in the armchair, his walkman clamped over his ears. 
Obviously Nurse was out, and Darren was minding the store.

Anastasia's door handle moved silently and I opened the door. The room 
was in half light, the curtains pulled across to shut out the sunshine. In a 
cage on a table near the window, a plump rabbit was contentedly nibbling 
at something green and nourishing. Anastasia was sitting up in bed, 
looking to see who was coming in. She beat her hands together in ecstasy.

"Miss, it's you!"

"Yes, it's me. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Miss. My boobs feel a bit fuller again. They've been growing 
quite a bit. But you're wearing a nightie, Miss!"

"Well spotted, Anastasia. I've had a cold or flu or something. Maybe I 
caught it off you. Anyway, how are you in yourself? Have you been sick at 
all?"

"No. Should I? I'll try if you like, Miss." Anxious to oblige, she reached over 
to her bedside table and picked up a bowl.

"It's all right. Just do it if you need to. Don't put yourself out. Did Nurse say 
when you can come out of here? You'll have to give the news to the rest of 
the girls."

"The news, Miss? Oh, you mean these!" She turned back the bed covers and 
showed me her boobs. They seemed to have grown a bit since I had last 
seen them. Not a lot, only about fifty per cent. "I'm quite looking forward 
to showing them these. They must be nearly as big as Pansy's now, Miss. 
They're nice, aren't they?"

I had to agree. They were very nice boobs indeed. Make the most of them, 
I thought. You'll be getting just as big everywhere else, soon. By the time 
the hot summer weather comes, girl, you'll be carrying more than just a 
pair of netballs under your shirt. "They brought Chauntaille over, I see." I 
peered into the rabbit's cage. She had ballooned since I had last seen her. 

"Darren brought her in. He's Nurse's bestest friend, he said. He brought the 
cage as well. He gave me a hair brush for her, and I got all that sticky stuff 
out of her fur. She's getting horribly fat, Miss."

I knew how she felt. "With any luck, you'll be out in a couple of days, then 
you can show off your new boobies."

"Will I need a bigger bra, Miss?" She sounded thrilled at the prospect.

"I think so, they're very big now. You'd better get the biggest cups Clit will 
let you have. Tell her about your predicament, and she'll give you a bra 
with plenty of room to grow."

"Oh, Miss. I'm really looking forward to the rest of this spring. And after 
the summer holidays, when the new girls start, too. I'm fed up with being 
a Junior kid, Miss. Growing up's ever so much more fun!"

Well, yes, Anastasia, I thought, that was one way of putting it.





Chapter 59:- Bouncing Babies


My mind had cleared a little. In fact, I felt much better all round, apart 
from the odd explosive sneeze. I sat in bed and peeled my orange, only 
breaking one nail in the process. Then I had a think. Anastasia was taking 
her pregnancy quite well. She was a resilient child. Later, perhaps, it would 
hit her that she wouldn't even be here at the start of the next school year, 
she'd be nursing a little baby. Time enough for that when it came. 
Meanwhile, Anastasia would be out of the sick bay soon, holding court 
among the other Juniors, showing off her expanding boobs.

Oh, no! She would be persuading all the others that pregnancy was a good 
thing. Once they found out what caused it, the Juniors would be out there 
making babies as if they were going out of fashion. I knew it was a 
mistake teaching these kids about the Joys of Sex. Even now, Smegs was 
lecturing the First Form on the subject of being a Lady in the Living Room 
and a Whore in the Bedroom. Or was it the other way around?

It was no use, I was going to have to discharge myself. There was work to 
be done, crusading work. I got up, found my clothes in the bedside locker, 
and dressed. Then gathering up my few possessions, I set off along the 
corridor to the nurse's office. Darren looked up, startled.

"You ... you're supposed to be in bed," he shouted. He still had his 
headphones on and had to shout to make himself heard above the music in 
his head.

"I'm discharging myself. Tell Nurse when she gets back. I have to get back 
to work." And I stormed out, leaving a trail of paperback books and 
chocolate chip cookies.


**********

Corinne was pleased and surprised to see me. "Are you all better? Nurse 
said you needed a few more days in bed." She offered me a cheek to snog, 
and I planted a wet one on it. "Did you see Anastasia before you came 
out?"

"Yes. Poor girl!" I held up a hand. "Yes, I know all about her."

"Poor old Anastasia," said Corinne. "She has all the bad luck that's going. 
How big are they now?"

"Her boobs? Oh, pretty huge, for a little kid. As big as Smegs's, easily. But 
that's hardly the point. She's going to come out soon, and she'll be telling 
all the other girls. They'll all want the same."

"Well, it's not as if St Cat's exactly discourages it, is it? We go out of our 
way to provide bigger and bigger bras and stuff for them, don't we?"

"That reminds me. I think I'd better warn Clit and Flaps about Anastasia's 
next bra. They need to give her plenty of room to grow."

Corinne raised an eyebrow. "Gosh! She's still growing, then?" 

"Oh yes. She's got a lot of growing to do, yet. She's been no time at all yet. 
Anyway, I'm going for a shower, then maybe I'll go and do some work this 
afternoon. What day is this?"

"Thursday. Don't catch cold, darling," said Corinne. "I'll stoke up the fire so 
you can get yourself warm and dry."

She offered me a cheek again and I kissed it moistly.

"I'll be gone when you get back," she said, " I've got the Third Formers for 
Custom Bra Measuring."

"That's a new subject, isn't it?"

"I've introduced it. Not enough is known about the whole question of 
fitting brassieres to women. St Cat's ought to become a Centre of Excellence 
for Breast Support. It shall be my Crusade. Look, Shannie ... it's not worth 
going in to work this afternoon. Nurse said you ought to be in bed for the 
rest of the week. But since you're out, why not take it easy for today and 
tomorrow? Get dressed, go and see Clit, then come back and go to bed 
early."

"But I've been in bed for *days*!"

"Not with me, love!"

Well, that was different, I supposed.

Another crusade, I thought, as I soaped in between my various body parts 
under the hot spray. It wasn't easy to reach, but I heaved my breasts aside 
and directed the spray from the shower head in the appropriate direction. 
I shuddered, realising that this was my first orgasm since ... God, it was so 
long ago, I couldn't remember. I *must* have been ill! Wow! That was 
better. It was only when I was sitting in front of a roaring fire in the 
bedroom that I realised I had forgotten to wash behind my ears.


**********

"Miss Gruntwurvy! We 'eard you was at deaf's door!"

"I got bored in the sick bay. I let myself out."

"Good. What do you want, anyway? You're not growing again are you? How 
was the FreeTips? I tried one round the town on Saturday. It worked like a 
charm!"

I wondered what she meant by that. It occurred to me that I had hardly 
ever seen Clit with her clothes on. She looked quite tasty when she was 
dressed. I imagined her with her nipples thrusting out of the ends of a 
FreeTips bra, perhaps in a silk shirt.

"Ooooh, Miss Gruntwurvy! You've been starved of affection, ain't you!" She 
returned my kisses with enthusiasm and skill. "But how was the FreeTips 
for you, you didn't say."

"Miss Meadowlark borrowed it and it's never been the same since."

"No, it wouldn't be, would it. She's been getting enormous. We fitted her up 
with one of her own. Flaps fancied her!"

Did she, I thought. Horny cow, Flaps, climbing all over my Corinne with her 
lascivious fingers doing things to her!

I forced the thought out of my head. "Anastasia is going to need another 
bra," I said, abruptly.

"I 'eard she was getting bigger. But she's sick, isn't she?"

"She's never looked healthier to me," I said. "But she's certainly bigger. 
And she's going to grow a lot more. When she comes over for her new bra, 
probably Monday, make sure you give her plenty of growing room."

Clit's eyes lit up. "Gosh! We sure will. If there's one thing we do well at St 
Cat's, it's giving girls plenty of room to grow."

"How about maternity bras?"

"Is she giving MILK?"

It was those capital letters again. "Not yet," I said with regret. "But she will. 
Is it worth giving her nursing cups on her next ScatBra? In your 
professional opinion?"

"It depends how much bigger she's going to get. Tell you what, we'll give 
her a good going over, and if she looks suitable, we'll make her our official 
tester for the new ScatFeed - the Maternity Bra for the Modern Schoolgirl."

"Sounds good to me." I felt a shiver run through me. Perhaps I ought to be 
back in bed after all.

"Are you all right, Miss Gruntwurvy?" Clit leaned closer and placed her 
small hand on my naked breast. It felt icy cold. "Here, get your things back 
on. You're freezing. I shouldn't have undressed you. But you know I can't 
resist those danglers of yours!"

She helped me into my bra and sweater, and gave me a supportive kiss. 
Then she slipped my panties on and searched for my skirt beneath the 
workbench. She plucked a pubic hair from her tongue and kissed me full 
on the lips. Clit was such a friendly girl, I thought, as I made my way back 
across the quadrangle to the bedroom. I was feeling quite my horny old 
self again, although I still had a bit of a temperature.

The bed was warm and familiar. I closed my eyes with a feeling of total 
relaxation.


**********

"I wanted to show her the latest stuff from the doll factory." Smegs's voice 
came to me through the fog of sleep. "I took it down to the sick bay and 
she'd gone. Nobody told me," she complained.

"She discharged herself," Corinne said, and her voice became louder for a 
moment as she looked in my direction. "I don't think she's quite better yet, 
so I told her to go to bed. I think her temperature is still up. Can you leave 
it for her to see? What is it, a brochure?"

"No, it's this." I couldn't see, but it sounded as though they were sorting 
through a substantial box of stuff.

"What a lovely little wheelbarrow," said Corinne. "And these sweet clothes, 
too! That bra's a bit rude, did you tell them to make one like this?"

"I borrowed your old FreeTips and sent it to them. Well, not yours, that 
one of Shan's that you stretched."

"Ah, that explains it. I stretched the holes a bit too much and poor old 
Shannie's tits just fell out of the ends! She's so dangly! It was all I could do 
not to laugh at her when she tried it on. But if that's what a FreeTips looks 
like, I don't think I want to wear one again. It looks disgraceful!"

"Yes, it does, doesn't it," agreed Smegs, with considerable enthusiasm, I 
thought. It went very quiet and I was tempted to open my eyes and see 
what was happening. My imagination ran riot instead. At last, Corinne 
spoke, her voice husky.

"You'd better be going, in case she wakes up!"

"I suppose so!" There was the faintest rustle of clothing and I heard items 
being put back into the package. There was a little mechanical sound as 
somebody picked up the miniature wheelbarrow.

"Isn't it sweet, with its little silk cushions," said Corinne. I heard the door 
close, and wondered if they had both left the room, to do rude things to 
each other in Smegs's room, but then I heard the comforting, familiar 
sound as Corinne brushed her hair. I pictured her in front of the mirror, 
the way she always sat, occasionally inspecting her breasts from different 
angles, always with approval.

Then the bed dipped under her weight, and she got in beside me, carefully, 
not touching, although I felt the warmth of her body close to mine.


**********

"They let you out, then! Why are you all wrapped up like that?" Suzanne 
prodded at Anastasia with a finger.

"Don't poke her, Suze, you'll hurt her. Or him."

Anastasia looked at Pansy with concern.

"I still feel cold after that hospital. It's hot in there. Nurse says I've got to 
keep well wrapped up." She sat on her bed, still huddled in the enormous 
overcoat Darren had lent her. Her face looked like the setting sun.

"When are you having it?" Suzanne came close and whispered.

Pansy sat on the bed. "What are you going to have?"

"What are you on about?" asked Anastasia.

"You're pregnant," Suzanne informed her bluntly. "Miss said so, and she 
knows."

"She did? Is that what's wrong with me? Did she say I'm having a baby?"

"Don't tell everybody, they'll all want one," hissed Pansy. "It's supposed to 
be a secret. Just us and Miss Gruntworthy, we're the only ones who know."

"Good," said Anastasia. "We don't want everyone knowing." Anastasia 
thought it might have been nice if Miss Gruntworthy had told *her*, 
instead of the rest of the school. "When am I having it?"

"That's up to you." Suzanne said seriously. "Personally, if I were you, I'd 
have it straight away, then we could all play with it, and practise bathing it 
and everything."

"Have it at Christmas," suggested Pansy. "Then when it grows up and has 
presents, it will only need one present instead of two."

"Poor thing," said Anastasia. "But do I get a choice? I thought it took nine 
months."

"It used to," Suzanne assured her, "but that was ages ago. Miss 
Gruntworthy says you can have it when you like. How big are your boobs 
now?" She plucked at the collar of Darren's overcoat, but Anastasia pulled 
it tighter around her.

"Same as before," she insisted. "Why?"

"Your boobs get bigger when you have babies. It's all the milk. Although 
you could keep yours the same size and let Shona feed her. Or him. You 
don't want yours to get too big. They were getting huge before you got 
pregnant and went into hospital."

"I had flu. That's why I went into hospital. If I got pregnant, it must have 
been while I was in there."

"You mean you did somebody while you were there?" Pansy seemed to 
have been paying some attention during Sex lessons. "Was it Darren?"

Anastasia blushed hotly. "No!" she snapped.

"I bet it was," Pansy giggled. "Look, Suze, she's blushing!"

"Darren only came into my bedroom once a day, to look after Chauntaille. 
He put fresh straw in her cage and gave her dinner. If he made me 
pregnant, I'd have noticed."

"Not necessarily," said Suzanne. "You don't always know it's happening. 
Look at Mary and Jesus."

Anastasia considered the scriptures and bit her lip. Somehow, and soon, 
she was going to have to explain all this to her mother, and somehow she 
wasn't convinced that she was going to swallow the immaculate conception 
concept.

"Chauntaille's had some babies," she said, out of the blue. "Loads of them, 
Darren said. When they let me out, he was clearing out her cage."

"What were they, boys or girls?"

"Rabbits, mostly, he said."

Suzanne wasn't too interested in rabbits having babies. They had babies all 
the time, unlike schoolgirls. She tugged at the collar of the coat again. "Are 
you going to sleep in this? I bet you only want to because it's Darren's. Will 
you marry him?"

Anastasia looked uncomfortable. "I don't think so. You can't get married 
when you're eleven. And stop pulling at his coat." She wrapped it more 
tightly around her and folded her arms across her chest.

"You look ever so big, Staze," said Pansy. "Just like Chauntaille did. She got 
huge. Maybe you'll have loads of babies, too. We could all share them out. 
Have one each."

"They're mine. I want them all." Anastasia was sweltering in the coat, but 
somehow, it didn't seem the right time to display her new bigger boobs to 
the other girls. In the sick bay, talking to Miss Gruntworthy, she had been 
keen to show them off, but now she was right here with the rest of the 
girls in the dorm, she felt nervous. What if they laughed at her? There was 
another reason she'd had to borrow Darren's coat. She was so big now, her 
bra wouldn't fit. It didn't even begin to cover her boobs. After trying for 
half an hour in front of the mirror, she had given up in disgust and thrown 
it on the bed. That was when she saw Darren watching her from the 
doorway.

He had quickly finished putting on his trousers and suggested that she try 
and get into her blouse, and when that had been only partially successful, 
had given her his coat to cover herself. She could feel the blouse straining 
across her mountainous breasts and knew she didn't dare take the coat off 
now. She would be the laughing stock of the First Form Dormitory once the 
others saw her without it.

Bedtime was going to be awkward. She would have to wait until the lights 
went out, then dive into bed with the coat on. She could take it off once she 
was under the covers. Until then, she would be slowly cooking. Morning 
was another day. She would cross that bridge when she came to it.


**********

"How heavy are baby rabbits?" Darren asked me seriously. I clapped my 
hands over my ears and tried to back away. He adjusted the volume of his 
personal stereo and repeated the question.

"I don't know," I was forced to admit. "Not very heavy."

Darren seemed unconvinced. "These weigh nothing at all. Look at them."

I had only gone to the sick bay for a bottle of cough mixture. Luckily, 
Nurse wasn't there, but I hadn't expected to get drawn into a conversation 
on baby rabbits. "How old are they?" I asked, fascinated despite myself. 
The little things crawled around their mother who looked pretty non-
committal about the whole business. I suppose rabbits get used to it after a 
while, and think it's no big deal. Humans tend to go over the top about 
babies.

"Yesterday. Funny thing, though, Chauntaille weighs nothing either, for her 
size, and these babies are like polystyrene. There's something funny about 
them. I always remembered rabbits being quite solid, and heavy."

I drew the line at touching the repulsive little things, but Darren picked up 
Chauntaille and handed her to me. He was right. She seemed practically 
weightless. I didn't dare tell him about the FatLite experiment, but it 
certainly looked as if it had worked with Chauntaille.

I found myself wondering if Anastasia's baby would weigh nothing as well. 
Would she give birth to a bouncing eight and a half ounce little boy? 
Bouncing? Now there was a scary thought. She might have a weightless 
baby, floating in the air. He'd grow up without his feet ever touching the 
ground.

Chauntaille showed what she thought of the idea by pissing all over my 
hand. I gave her back to Darren.

"Just think," he said, rubbing Chauntaille's laid back ears. "We were going 
to have her in a pie until we realised she was pregnant. Miss Thunderbolt 
said to give her to the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group, to save money 
on a genuine laboratory rabbit. She's a funny old thing."

"Who, the rabbit?"

"Yeah. When we first got her, she wouldn't eat a thing. Must have been the 
shock of being caught by Jeremy's dog. We had to give her milk from a 
feeding bottle. Shona's milk, it was. I just happened to have a couple of 
pints left over in the shed. I'd hand-milked her the day before. Young 
Shona's a miserable little bitch sometimes, but she gives the best milk I 
ever tasted! Tell you what, Chauntaille thinks so, too!"





Chapter 60:- FatLite and SuperLite


It was time for another of those sessions of appraisal. I seemed to be 
having more and more of them recently.

We had a new substance, called FatLite, which when rubbed into the flesh 
of a young woman's breasts, was intended to change fat into a lighter form. 
This would be of interest to young women whose breasts were rather 
heavier than average. As a result of trials, we had determined that FatLite 
worked on rabbits. We now had the lightest rabbit in captivity, size for 
size.

There was another, frightening alternative: that FatLite would act upon the 
fats in the young woman's breasts, and while not altering the weight of the 
breast at all, would cause the fat to expand to twice its original volume. 
This would perhaps be of interest to exotic dancers. Since the departure of 
Belinda Balloons and Donna Dumbo from the teaching staff, there were few 
if any exotic dancers at St Catherine's High School for Girls. 

Niggling away at the back of my mind was the thought that another alien 
substance, composed of who knew what exactly, when used in conjunction 
with FatLite; could cause this very change in its effect. I had to find 
Anastasia as soon as possible. Only she could tell me what was in the alien 
substance, the result of an experiment which went wrong. She had 
probably forgotten already, but we had to go through her notes, and if 
necessary we had to carry out tests, mixing batch after batch until we had 
made a sample of that same witches' brew. And when I found Anastasia, 
the first thing I had to do was to apologise to her, and confess what I had 
done.

Anastasia's being pregnant didn't make it any easier. We couldn't use her 
as a guinea pig - nor even a rabbit - not in her condition. Not any more. Yet 
we were likely to need a supply of young girls on whom we could carry 
out tests; rubbing various combinations of FatLite and other substances on 
to their breasts, to see if they stayed the same size and got lighter, or 
stayed the same weight and got bigger.

Fortunately, we had a plentiful supply of young girls. That was the only 
good thing about the whole situation.

I found Anastasia still in bed.

"Aren't you feeling well?" I asked her. "Have you been sick this morning?"

"No, Miss. You keep asking if I've been sick. I probably can if I really try." 
She was willing to give it her best shot. She opened her mouth and began 
to put her fingers down her throat.

I snatched her hand away. "Where are the other girls?"

"Breakfast."

"You didn't feel like breakfast? You feel sick?"

"No, I keep telling you I'm not sick. I'm starving. But I don't want them to 
see me like this."

"Like what?"

She had, I noticed, thrown the blankets off her bed on to the floor. She 
pulled down the sheet.

"Whose is that coat? Isn't it Darren's?"

She nodded. "He lent it me yesterday evening."

"No wonder you're hot. Take it off."

She shook her head vigorously. "They mustn't see my boobs, Miss. They'll 
laugh. Or they'll get mad at me. Look!"

And with a quick glance around the dorm to see that no stray girls were 
lurking, Anastasia swiftly unfastened the top button of the coat and 
opened it, like a flasher. Two seconds later, she closed it again, leaving me 
wondering if I had really seen what I thought I had seen.

"Fucking Hell, Anastasia!" I said.

"Ooooh, Miss!" She blushed deeply and bit her lip.

I should have apologised for my language and my loss of control, but when 
I thought about it, I realised that 'Fucking Hell, Anastasia' was just about 
right.

"Your breasts are truly immense!" I said, in an awed whisper.

"That's why I can't show the others. What can I do, Miss?"

"Show me again!"

She did, for a little longer this time. No doubt about it, she was, as near as I 
could tell, twice as big as she had been before we had rubbed all that stuff 
on her. Corinne was proved right. So, possibly, was my other theory about 
the alien substance.

"You'd better get up now and come with me, so they won't see you. 
Quickly, they'll be back from breakfast in a few minutes."

She remembered her own hunger. "I'm still starving, Miss," she whimpered 
piteously.

"Come to my room and I'll fetch you something from the restaurant. How 
about scrambled eggs on toast, bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms and fried 
mashed potatoes?"

"And toast and marmalade, Miss?"

"Of course."

"And a big mug of tea?"

"We can make our own tea."

She was out of bed and halfway to the door. "Isn't this fun, Miss?" 
Anastasia was regaining her spirits already.


**********

She sat on the narrow bed in my abandoned bedroom. I had explained to 
her about FatLite, as well as I could, and the alien substance which I 
should really have thrown away. She took it quite well, really.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure we can work out what went into that other stuff," she 
said airily, "it's only one of half a dozen or so things. All we need to do is to 
mix them all and try them out one at a time, with FatLite, of course, and 
see what happens. No problem!"

"With a different girl each time," I reminded her. "And some of the 
experiments may seem to work, and some may have the opposite effect. 
We might end up with a whole bunch of terribly mutilated girls."

"With gigantic boobs, Miss?"

"Certainly, some of them."

She thought about that for a while. "They won't mind, then, will they. I 
think I'm going to love mine! But we could always get rid of the really big 
ones, couldn't we? Then when some of the Sixth Form girls have left at the 
end of next year, I'll be the biggest girl in the school, won't I?"

I could only gulp. "Get rid of them? You mean ...?"

"Send them to other schools, Miss. I want to be biggest, you see! When you 
were rubbing that stuff on my boobs, I decided I like the feeling so much 
...! Golly, Miss! And now they're even bigger, they feel like it the whole 
time. I am so horny, Miss, you wouldn't believe."

To prove it, she rolled on her back on the bed and plunged a hand up 
beneath the hem of Darren's coat in search of the core of her femininity.

"Anastasia," I asked her in a weak voice, "do you really need that coat on 
in here? It's quite warm now I've lit the fire, and nobody will see you."

She didn't answer for several minutes. Finally, she rolled upright again and 
sat up. "What?" she asked, blinking and rubbing her eyes. Then she 
shuddered. "Fucking wow!" she said, impolitely.

I let it pass. She had evidently enjoyed herself. "Here, let me take your 
coat," I said, and helped her off with it. Without it, she looked staggering. 
She sat there on the edge of the bed, a slight figure, her glasses still 
steamed over from her recent powerful orgasm. In her lap lay two of the 
biggest breasts in the whole of St Cat's. 

She stood up and stretched. She reached for the ceiling with her arms, 
standing on tiptoe.

"Aren't they rather heavy?" I asked her.

"Not specially, no! They only feel as heavy as they used to." With a great 
sigh, she lowered her arms to her sides. Her breasts bounced like two 
enormously big basketballs. Wronggg! Basketballs wasn't the right word. 
Those things would never have passed through the hoop. They were far 
too big for that.

"You want any more to eat?"

"No, thank you, Miss. I think I can last out until lunchtime." Her eyes lit up. 
"It's Friday, Miss. Can I have extra double helpings of fish pie, Miss, 
please? And spotted dick and custard with extra custard? And extra dick, 
of course," she added as an afterthought.

That was when something reminded me, Anastasia was eating enough for 
two now, of course.


**********

"You were right, Cee! I should have listened to you all along."

"What's the matter? Shannie, what do you mean? What was I right about?"

"You said FatLite wouldn't work. Well, you said it would work the wrong 
way round. I think that's what  happened to Anastasia."

"You mean it didn't make her breasts lighter? It made them the same 
weight ...?"

"And twice as big. At least. She's next door, she's scared to show the other 
girls in case they laugh, or in case they're jealous."

"Come on! Her friends won't be jealous. They're enormous themselves. No! 
You don't mean ...? Oh, you do?"

"She's not as big as Shona. But Shona's a big girl anyway, apart from her 
boobs. But ..."

"Bigger than Pansy?"

I nodded.

"Bigger than *Suzanne*?"

"Yes."

"Christ, this I must see!" Corinne made for the door to the next room. I 
followed her. Anastasia was sitting back on the bed, wearing only one of 
my extra large T-shirts, surrounded by the debris of her lunch. Her plates 
appeared to have been licked clean. She belched richly as we came in.

"That's better, Miss. It tasted much better than it does in the restaurant, 
Miss. Hi, Miss Meadowlark!" 

"Hello, Anastasia," said Corinne, her eyebrows almost reaching the ceiling. 
"You're getting a big girl, aren't you!"

Anastasia blushed prettily. "It's some new stuff we tried. We're going to 
try it on some more girls, Miss Gruntworthy says, until we find out what 
caused it."

Corinne looked at me for confirmation of this startling revelation. I nodded. 
"I'll explain later," I said.

"Yes, I think that would be an idea. Is Anastasia going to stay here for a 
day or so?"

"Just the weekend, I thought. We could tell the rest of the girls she's gone 
home for a few days to get over her illness."

I gathered up Anastasia's plates and dishes. "We'll see you at teatime," I 
said. "Anything you fancy?"

"Just what you're having. And lots of bread and jam. And cake." She 
belched again. "Please," she added. Her hand was groping under the bottom 
of her T-shirt. Anastasia was about to play with herself again.

I dragged Corinne away before she began to get overheated. "Right, we'll 
see you later."

"Wow, the horny bitch," said Corinne, as we closed the door behind us. "She 
has grown, hasn't she!"

"I told you ... who's that at the door? Hello?"

"It's only us, Miss," said Suzanne, looking round the door.

"Come in, Suzanne, Pansy. What is it? You know you're not allowed ..."

"It's Anastasia, Miss. She's disappeared again, Miss. She was in bed when 
we went to breakfast. We came back and she'd gone. And she wasn't in 
class, and she wasn't in at lunch. Anastasia never misses her food, Miss. 
There must be something wrong."

Pansy pushed forward anxiously. "Do you think she's gone off to have her 
baby, Miss?"

"Not yet, Pansy. Give her a few more months, maybe."

"She was acting strange last night, Miss. She wouldn't take her coat off. I 
think she might have had the baby already and it was feeding under her 
coat. That would explain everything!"

"It might, but wouldn't baby be just a little premature, Pansy?" I would 
really have to have a word with Smegs about her Sex classes. "Leave it 
with me, girls. Go back to your classes, and when Anastasia turns up, you'll 
be the first to know." I ushered them out.

"Well, this is an evening of surprises," Corinne said. "Anastasia, pregnant?"

"'Course she is, but she's only missed one period hasn't she? What did 
Nurse say?"

"Nurse? Oh, you mean Nurse? She never told me anything. Why should 
she? I asked her about Anastasia, and she said her breasts were getting 
huge, even by St Cat's standards. She never mentioned her being 
pregnant!"

But I had heard her! I was in bed and listening, and Nurse had told 
Corinne, my bestest friend and lover, that Anastasia was pregnant. Now 
here was Corinne blankly denying it. Why?

The kitchen door opened and Anastasia appeared. She edged her breasts 
one at a time through the doorway, sticking her tongue out in 
concentration. "Was that Suzanne, just then?"

"Yes. She was wondering where you were. I told them you'd turn up soon."

Corinne spoke to the girl. "Did Nurse say when your baby was due, 
Anastasia?" she said.

"Nurse didn't say anything about a baby, Miss." Anastasia looked confused. 
"Pansy and Suzanne said I was pregnant, but they don't seem to know 
much about babies. I always thought it took nine months. Suzanne wanted 
me to have it straight away, and Pan wants me to wait until Christmas. 
Chauntaille had hers. It didn't take her nine months, but I suppose she is a 
rabbit."

"Ooooh, she had her babies, did she?" Corinne was jumping around 
excitedly. "Nurse told me she was pregnant. Oh, I wish I could have seen 
them. We used to have rabbits at home."

"Darren will show them to you," said Anastasia. "He looks after her, cleans 
her cage out and everything."

Their voices rattled on in the background. A horrible thought was slowly 
dawning on me. I felt the blood drain slowly from my face, to be replaced 
by boiling water. Was it possible that I had made a ghastly mistake?


**********

Smegs always knows what to do. Sometimes she gets things wrong, in fact, 
she usually gets things wrong, but at least she does something.

As soon as I had taken a medium-sized picnic hamper in to Anastasia and 
watched her wipe her hands on a towel and start demolishing her evening 
meal like a plague of locusts, I excused myself and went to Smegs's door.

She looked surprised but pleased to see me.

"Where's Cee?" she said.

"She left a note for me. It said: 'Gone to see Chauntaille's babies over in the 
sick bay.'"

Smegs's eyebrows shot up and she took a pace or two back, stepping on a 
naked girl who gave a startled yelp like a puppy. Sitting down, Smegs held 
out her arms and the girl, a Second Former, climbed on to her lap and 
sucked her thumb, looking up at me with eyes like saucers. Smegs bounced 
her on her knee for a while before sending her off with a pat on the 
bottom to continue her task of sorting panties. I watched the girl idly for a 
few moments. The thought occurred to me that she had been sorting 
panties before she thrust her thumb in her mouth. I felt slightly ill.

"You had babies in the sick bay?" enquired Smegs when she realised I 
wasn't about to give any further information.

"Me? I had flu. The rabbit had babies. Chauntaille is a rabbit."

"Baby wabbits?" The naked Second Former suddenly became animated and 
stood up, wriggling. She had no breasts to speak of. "I love baby wabbits, 
Miss, let me see the baby wabbits, Miss, please, Miss, please!" She was 
pawing at Smegs who looked at her with a fond smile on her face. I felt 
even less slightly ill.

Smegs looked at her watch. "Off you go then, Pippa. Have your evening 
meal first, and wash your hands...!"

The warning was too late. Pippa had gone. Smegs gathered up a dank pile 
of school clothes and dropped them outside the door. "She'll be back. She 
always forgets to dress. Well, what brings you here, anyway?"

"It's Anastasia. You haven't seen her?"

"No. But she'll turn up. She always does. Pansy said she'd disappeared 
again ..."

"No, not that. She's in my room. My old room. But you haven't seen her? 
She's ... her boobs have grown again. It's a long story, but it's to do with 
FatLite."

It took twenty minutes to tell her, and she was still not entirely clear at 
the end of the tale.

"You mean you need a dozen or twenty girls to do these tests on? All with 
similar but not excessive breast development?" She sucked in her breath 
noisily. "That's a tall order. It's practically the entire Second Form!"

"Could we borrow them, though, do you think? Some of them won't be too 
badly changed. One or two will get big. Quite a few will get very big. And 
the rest will get fucking enormous."

"You say this FatLite stuff works? Have you used it on Anastasia?"

"Anastasia was a fuck-up. I used this other stuff and it made her at least 
twice the size but the same weight. Once we find out what that stuff was, 
we can ...!

"We can sell it!" Smegs leaped up and began to stride around the room. I 
fell in love with her all over again as her long legs powered her into every 
corner of the bedroom. She screeched to a halt, towering above me. "This 
could be the biggest thing since Boob Juice. Think! We have two 
substances, FatLite, which you rub into your breasts to make them lighter 
but the same size. A boon for the heavy-breasted girl. And we have 
another substance, what can we call it?"

She began to pace again. I watched her open-mouthed. She spun round.

"Let's call it SuperLite. We rub SuperLite on the breasts after using FatLite, 
and instead of them getting lighter, they stay the same weight but grow 
enormous. A boon for exotic dancers, as you so rightly put it. No surgery, 
no implants, and far bigger than implants could ever be anyway. We could 
have dancers with genuine one hundred inch busts! They'd be billed on the 
circuit as two or three hundred inches. Triple H!"

"Why?"

"The American public demands ridiculously huge numbers, Shan. And it 
cannot grasp the first principles of bra sizes. Don't rock the boat. How big is 
Anastasia anyway? Can I see her?"

"She's shy, Smegs. Let her get used to it for a day or so, then we can show 
you. When can we start doing the tests? We can do it up here, away from 
the rest of the girls."

"Time is of the essence, Shan. The sooner we get this show on the road, the 
better. Monday morning?"

"Moggie will be back on Monday. What will we tell her?"

"She'll be all right when she realises how much this will earn St Cat's. I can 
see it now..." Smegs's eyes gazed into the misty distance. "Boost those boobs 
without extra weight - SuperLite! Not tested on animals!"

"What about Chauntaille the rabbit?"

"One rabbit? Come on, Shan!"

"But it's worse than animals. It will have been tested on GIRLS!"

"The animal rights crowd aren't bothered about people. Second Form girls 
might be a bit marginal, but they're still people, basically. It won't be a 
problem. We haven't tested SuperLite on pretty furry animals with big 
eyes that face the front, so we're okay!"

"Monday then?" I was overwhelmed by Smegs's enthusiasm. "You'll get the 
girls?"

"I'll have them up here in my room by ten on Monday morning. I'll get you 
twenty. You can rub them all with FatLite then. Meanwhile, all the other 
samples of the second chemical can be mixed by Tuesday morning. Say two 
girls to each sample and two with plain FatLite and nothing else?" She 
clapped me on the shoulder and I staggered forward, choking.

As I say, Smegs always knows what to do.





Part XXI





Chapter 61:- Creaming The Seconds


It was a tight squeeze in Smegs's bedroom. I think, on reflection, that we 
should have found somewhere with a little more space. There were girls 
everywhere. Twenty Second Form girls take up a lot of room, even 
stripped naked. Smegs, sitting on her dressing table with her long legs 
drawn up underneath her, was taking up little of the available space, but 
with Corinne, Anastasia and me in the room as well, there was a great deal 
of breast around the place.

"Perhaps we should have seen them in smaller batches," I shouted to 
Smegs across the seething masses of slightly pungent naked Juniors.

"No problem," she said. "Tomorrow, when we do them with different 
samples of Super, there'll only be two of them in here at a time. But today, 
while we're doing them all with the same stuff, it makes more sense to 
have them all in together. It won't take long anyway."

Corinne was stirring a large tub of FatLite with a wooden spoon. Anastasia 
watched her, occasionally taking a deep sniff of the mixture. I thought she 
would have learned her lesson about that by now.

"You want some of this, Shannie?" Corinne was in playful mood, her eyes 
shining as she brandished her spoon. "I'm sure we've got enough to do you 
as well!"

"You can get away from me with that stuff. My tits are staying exactly the 
way they are!"

Anastasia scowled. I think she disapproved of teachers behaving in a 
flippant manner while in charge of serious chemicals. The chemicals had 
made a serious difference to Anastasia, certainly. Her breasts were little 
short of incredible. Apart from the bovine Shona, she was comfortably the 
most extravagantly developed girl in the Juniors, a grouping which 
included such girls as Pansy, Suzanne and the remarkable Lim-Bim-
Xuoyung Ng.

"Can I start creaming, Miss?" she pleaded with me.

"In a minute, Anastasia. We need to get the girls laid out first. Ready, Miss 
Mountains?" I asked formally.

"Ready, Miss Gruntworthy!" Smegs clapped her hands and the Second 
Formers fell silent. It was almost eerie. "Right, you lot!" The girls pricked 
up their ears. Like the Good Shepherd, Smegs knew them all by name. She 
directed them swiftly and they moved busily around the room. Eight of 
them lay across the bed, sideways. Six more went into the kitchen and 
disposed themselves on the various work surfaces. The other six lay on the 
floor. All of them lay quietly, looking up at us with big, round, trusting 
eyes.

"Okay, girls, let's go," I said, and Corinne dipped her hand deeply into the 
tub of FatLite. She disappeared into the kitchen.

Anastasia carefully removed the wooden spoon from the tub and handed it 
to Smegs, who sniffed at it and rubbed the cream between her fingers. 
Already, moans of delight were issuing from the kitchen, where Corinne 
was doing her stuff. Eagerly, Anastasia took two handfuls of the cream and 
approached the bed. She had to approach her eight victims from the same 
side of the bed as their heads, and even then her breasts slumped down to 
cover their faces while she glopped cream on the firm young breasts of the 
girls.

"Are we going to get as big as you?" one of them asked. I didn't hear her 
reply.

It was my turn. Why had I drawn the short straw and been allocated the 
six girls on the floor? I was the least mobile. Grunting, I approached the 
first girl and gave her a good creaming. It felt surprisingly pleasant, 
rubbing cream into the girl's firmly conical boobs. She seemed to enjoy it 
almost as much as I did.

Smegs was enjoying the scene, too. It was like a kind of orgy, with naked, 
gleaming girls stretched out on every level surface, all moaning in twenty-
part harmony. Corinne was making little noises, too, I could recognise her 
voice from the kitchen. Anastasia was giggling and squeaking, and her 
glasses were opaque with steam. I know I was making a lot of noise as 
well, but I always do at such times. Perched on her dressing table, Smegs 
sat with her legs apart, fingering herself. I glanced up at her. Her eyes 
were closed and her mouth was open in a silent howl of ecstasy.

Gradually the noise died down. Girls began to bestir themselves and sit up, 
looking round at each other as if expecting to see bigger boobs starting to 
develop. No harm in hoping, I thought. Hope springs eternal in the human 
breast, after all.

Smegs was still in a trance. I shook her leg with vigour, and she came back 
to reality. "Oh, hi!" she murmured, giving herself a final rub down there. 
Then she remembered her position.

"Okay, girls. You are free to go! Don't forget to put your clothes on. 
Remember to look at the rota on the notice board for your time tomorrow 
morning. You will all get rubbed with a different cream, and we will send 
for you in ten batches of two each. Like Noah's Ark. Thank you all!"

The girls filed out, giggling and jostling each other playfully. Anastasia 
scraped the surplus cream off her hands on the edges of the tub. Corinne 
flopped down on the bed, her breasts rebounding heavily. She had the look 
of having just been comprehensively fucked.

"That's some good stuff!" Smegs exclaimed. "I rubbed a little bit on my 
fingers from the spoon. As soon as I touched my puss, I started coming!"

"You what?"

"I rubbed some on my pussy. It felt tremendous. So I used all the cream 
there was left on the spoon and rubbed it all over my pussy lips. And my 
clit," she added, looking slightly ashamed of herself.

"But we don't know what effect it might have on you down there. Nobody's 
tried it yet."

"More fool them, in that case! It felt ... it was indescribable! Wow!" She 
shuddered hugely and looked round for the spoon again. I think she 
wanted some more.

"I don't think it was a good idea, Smegs," I told her. "Anything might 
happen to you."

"Can I try it, Miss?" Anastasia looked up at me eagerly.

"Absolutely not!" Corinne grabbed the tub of cream away from the girl. 
"Miss Gruntworthy is right, anything might happen. We'd better see wait 
and what happens to Miss Mountains. She might have to go to hospital. 
Anything might happen to her!"

I looked at Corinne, who seemed to be regretting not trying the cream on 
herself. I took her hand to give her resolution and strength in this moment 
of temptation. I was sorely tempted to grab a handful of the cream and 
slop it on to the yawning entrance to my own aching love tunnel. With 
sadness, we all watched Anastasia replace the lid on the tub and wipe her 
hands on a paper towel.

"Nurse ought to look at your pussy, Megan," said Corinne.

"I'll keep an eye on it," I offered sportingly, and felt Corinne tug at my 
hand sternly.

Smegs looked chastened. The effects were wearing off. She stood up and 
looked around for her knickers. She wouldn't wear a clean pair until she 
had made sure her current ones were throughly soiled. She found some 
and stepped into them, pulling them up almost to her armpits. She lowered 
her skirt regretfully, like saying goodbye to a dearly loved friend.

"Aaaargh!" yelled Anastasia, suddenly. She leaped over to the dressing 
table and grabbed the wooden spoon. Smoke was pouring off it, and as she 
snatched it up, it burst into flames with a dull thud. Anastasia rushed 
round the room like a considerably overdeveloped Olympic torch-bearer, 
before disappearing into the kitchen. There was a loud hiss as she plunged 
it into a bowl of water. Drifts of steam wafted through the doorway.

We were all shaking with shock as Anastasia came back in, holding the 
blackened spoon.

"Shit!" she said, her voice shaking. "That hasn't happened for a long time!"


**********

"Right, what have we got, Anastasia?"

She showed me an array of tubs, smaller than the large one we had used 
for the initial application of FatLite to the twenty girls of the Second Form. 
Each tub was boldly labelled with a single letter from 'A' to 'K'. There was 
no letter 'I'. Smaller labels covered in tiny girlish handwriting were stuck 
to each tub. Anastasia was being extremely methodical and careful.

"The 'K' is plain hand cream," she said. "The first eight are slightly different 
variations on the cream you rubbed my boobs with, Miss. One of those will 
make the girls' breasts get bigger, probably at least twice as big. Maybe 
more than one. The other one, 'J', is the antidote to FatLite. That's a brand 
new formula, we read Pansy's notes and mixed it specially. If it works, 
we'll tell Pansy about it afterwards. That's about it, Miss."

"Good, Anastasia, you have done very well. You will get an excellent grade 
for this."

"Thank you, Miss. Just one thing, Miss. If the antidote works, perhaps Miss 
Mountains ought to rub some on her pussy, Miss." Anastasia blushed 
crimson as she said the word. She was not just mentioning a pussy, but a 
pussy actually belonging to a *teacher*!

I put my arm round her shoulders, watching those enormous lightweight 
breasts bouncing wildly against each other. She watched them, too, and 
grinned up at me.

"We're ready, then, I think." I stood up and tickled Anastasia under the 
chin. She giggled. "Let's go and see Miss Mountains. The first girls will be 
here in five minutes. Grab that first tub of cream, Anastasia. Let's go!" 


**********

There was no sign of Smegs in her room, although the first two girls were 
already in the bedroom, sitting on the bed, tickling each other and giggling. 
They shot to their feet guiltily as we came in. One of the pair was almost a 
foot taller than the other. They looked at each other and sniggered.

"Where's Miss Mountains?" I asked them.

"She just slipped out, Miss. She said she wouldn't be long."

Strange, I thought. I wondered where Smegs could have gone, when she 
knew we were due to start creaming the girls.

"You'd better get your tops off, you two." Anastasia and I stared at the girls 
as they removed their blouses and effective school bras. They weren't 
giggling any more. Their breasts seemed fuller somehow. Presumably their 
fat content had become lighter and they had sort of puffed up. Certainly 
Smegs had done a good job in providing twenty girls of such similar breast 
size. Relatively, at least. They were still on the large side for twelve year 
olds. But even these two, with their great difference in height and build, 
had almost identical boobs. The shorter one seemed much bigger-breasted, 
but only because by comparison with her overall body size.

Smegs came in, out of breath. "Ah, you're here! All ready to cream?"

The two girls lay down obediently on the bed. Anastasia looked at me for 
the signal, then took a handful of cream and liberally plastered it on to the 
breasts of the taller girl. She rubbed it in with generous sweeps of both her 
little hands. Her eyes closed, as did those of her willing victims. Smegs 
watched them, her tongue moistening her lips.

The girls began to writhe on the bed, thrashing their hips from side to side 
and groaning loudly. Anastasia showed them no mercy, pressing down 
lightly on their breasts. The taller girl had tiny, sharp-pointed nipples, the 
smaller one had thick, dark nubs which made me want to chew them. 
Those of the other girl I wanted only to flick and tease with my tongue, 
and blow cool air on them.

I had to wipe the sweat off my brow. Was it hot in this room, or was it just 
me? It wasn't me, I decided, it was Smegs as well. She was walking up and 
down, not in her usual striding gait she used when she was planning and 
thinking, but in a nervous little twitch, a pace or two one way, then the 
other. She was keeping her thighs pressed together. Smegs was seriously 
hot.

Her voice wobbled as she told the Second Form girls to get up and get 
dressed. They rose shakily from the bed, reaching out to touch the tips of 
Anastasia's fingers as they got up. Even then, they were unable to leave 
the younger girl alone, touching any part of her they could reach. They 
dressed in a disjointed, shambolic manner, like animated rag dolls, before 
reluctantly moving toward the door, dragging Anastasia behind them. She 
looked over her shoulder at me imploringly. Was she begging me to take 
her away from the two girls, or desperate to be allowed to go with them?

I grabbed her and hauled her back, slapping at the two girls' grasping 
fingers. With tears in their eyes, they went out into the corridor and 
immediately fell to the floor in a passionate embrace. Anastasia's nipples 
were embarrassing even to look at. I had to turn my face away from them. 
Smegs was staring at them with longing, too. Poor Anastasia was never 
going to get through the day without becoming traumatised. Nine more 
pairs of girls, eighteen more pairs of tits to massage. It was not fair to 
impose such a strain on a young girl.

Smegs was on the verge of volunteering to help with the creaming, and so 
was I. We sent Anastasia off to fetch her next tub of cream. She took tub 
'A' with her and departed. Smegs and I took advantage of her absence.

"Christ, I'm bursting," she murmured into my mouth.

I rubbed myself against her. "So am I, darling! Hold me! Touch me! Fill me 
with your fingers!"

"Oh, Shan, it's been so long without you. My loins are on fire!"

Anastasia came back in and coughed politely. Smegs and I broke apart and 
began to study interesting items in different parts of the room. Anastasia 
sniffed like a dog, and Smegs looked at her as if thinking of suing for 
breach of copyright. She had every reason to sniff. It was stuffy in the 
bedroom and heavy with musk.

A polite knock on the door heralded the arrival of the next pair of girls. 
They were less disparate than the first pair - who were still making love 
on the floor outside - both newcomers were slender girls of around 
Anastasia's height. Again, Smegs and I watched spellbound, as Anastasia 
began her rubbing. Perhaps she was getting better at it, because both girls 
were thrashing and moaning helplessly within ten seconds.

When the tumult died down, a burst of polite coughing alerted Smegs and 
me. We removed our tongues from each other's throats and stepped apart 
with some reluctance.

Somehow we got through the next pair of girls and broke for lunch. Six 
frantically horny Junior girls were now lying in a tangled heap on the floor 
outside Corinne's and my room. Anastasia and I crept past them with a 
feeling of sadness and went inside to await the arrival of the picnic 
hamper containing Anastasia's lunch, which she happily shared with me, 
both of us sitting cross-legged on the bed.

"Funny thing, Miss," she said in a voice muffled by steak and kidney 
pudding, three vegetables and gravy. "When I came in for the second batch 
of cream, the top was loose on a couple of the tubs. I know I put the tops 
on securely, I remember clearly."

"You mean someone came in and opened them?"

"Not just someone, Miss. I think it was Miss Mountains! She was out of the 
room. She could have waited for us to leave, then nipped in and opened 
the tubs up."

True enough, she could. But Smegs? Why? What reason would she have to 
do that?

"Which tubs did Miss Moun ... which tubs were opened?"

"'C' and 'D', Miss. Both of them are unknown attempts at finding the 
mixture that made me grow, Miss." She had a sudden idea and slipped off 
the bed to look into the two suspect tubs. She brought them over and 
showed me. One was untouched, but there was the impression of a finger 
in the one marked 'C'!

"Oh, God! Why would anyone want to dip their finger in there?"

"Please Miss. If it *was* Miss Mountains, she might have rubbed it on her 
pussy, Miss! To make it better after rubbing FatLite on it. She was after the 
antidote, but got the wrong one."

"Don't even think it, Anastasia! Miss Mountains is not the sort of person 
who would do such a thing!"

Or was she?





Chapter 62:- Growing Doubts


Moggie sent for me while Anastasia was still anointing the last of the 
guinea-pig girls. I reluctantly made my way past the pile of eighteen 
entangled girls who had unwittingly rolled as far as the brink of the stairs, 
and five minutes later knocked on Moggie's door.

"What have you been up to?" She came round the desk and looked me up 
and down. She even reached a suspicious hand up my skirt. I felt my loins 
come to the boil as she expertly evaded the crotch of my knickers and 
sampled my moisture. "Bloody hell, Shan!" she remarked, inspecting her 
dripping fingers.

"We've been creaming the Second Form girls. You know, the second part of 
the experiment Smegs told you about, SuperLite?"

"If I'd thought it was going to be as exciting as it obviously is, I'd have 
come over and lent a hand. Are there many more left to do?"

"Anastasia's rubbing the last two now."

"Pity!" She regained her composure with an effort and a deep sigh. "How 
long before they grow, or not, as the case may be?"

"Anastasia took a couple of days. It's quite slow acting, apart from the 
Uncontrollable Horniness. When I left, there were eighteen girls rolling 
around on the floor sucking each other's clits and nipples as if it was going 
out of fashion."

"Maybe it is," said Moggie sadly. Her eyes misted. She pulled herself 
together. "Did Anastasia get the Uncontrollable Horniness as well?"

"She got horny when I rubbed her, and so did I, and from what she was 
saying, she needed to play with herself for the whole of the time her boobs 
were growing. She's getting better now, she says. Or worse, depending 
which way you look at it."

"Splendid. But when we examine the girls to assess the results, we won't do 
it in Megan's room. Far too small, especially if an orgy breaks out. There's 
much more room in here. Let's make it ... " she ran a fingernail down a 
page of her diary with a faint scratching noise, "let's make it Wednesday 
morning. Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen can look after classes, with Darren 
and the disco lad. Invite Corinne, tell Megan, and Anastasia had better 
come along as well. Is she as big as Megan said she is?"

"Bigger!"

"Excellent! Splendid young girl. Always has shown promise. If ever a First 
Form girl deserved a ninety inch bust, it's her. Fine! Make the 
arrangements, and I'll get Jeremy to clear some of the junk out of here. 
Wednesday at nine sharp, then!"


**********

All through the next day, crowds of girls gathered at the foot of the stairs 
which led up to the staff quarters. They peered up into the forbidden 
territory with mournful expressions on their faces, hoping for a glimpse of 
the twenty Juniors afflicted with the most virulent outbreak of 
Uncontrollable Horniness since records began. From time to time, the pile 
of girls rolled dangerously close to the top of the stairs, and a concerted 
gasp went up from the onlookers, but it seemed that the lovers were being 
looked after by a greater power from above. They never quite went over 
the edge. If they had, they would have rolled clear to the bottom and 
possibly not even noticed.

Incredibly for Junior girls, they failed to notice the passage of five 
mealtimes. Heedless of night and day, they snogged, slurped, sucked, licked 
and fingered each other until five minutes to nine on Wednesday morning, 
at which time Smegs threw a bucket of cold water over them.

They broke up into half a dozen separate groups, still locked in passion. 
Two more buckets brought them to their senses, and they sat in a dripping 
group at the top of the stairs, wondering what time it was.

Clearly, some of them had developed much larger breasts than previously. 
Some of them hadn't. As they looked at each other for the first time in a 
day and two nights, the haves began to beam and the have-nots began to 
cry. Their clothes had long gone: torn off, shredded and hopelessly mixed 
up. Those of the girls who had grown would never get into their blouses 
again anyway. Moggie was going to hate it, but all twenty of these girls 
would need completely new school uniforms.

I placed the Junior Statistics Group on Stand-By At Immediate Readiness 
and alerted Clit and Flaps to be ready with a range of new ScatBras. 
Anastasia struggled back into Darren's overcoat, now a noticeably tighter 
fit than before. Then we threw blankets over the shoulders of each pair of 
girls and escorted them through baying crowds of girls to Moggie's office.

I saw the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group pointing at Anastasia. Even in 
Darren's bulky coat, she was clearly an extremely well-developed girl. A 
face in the crowd, glaring at me and me alone, was Victoria, a snarl of 
menace distorting her incredibly beautiful features.

All around us, bodies swayed, trying to touch the hem of the girls' 
blankets. It was an unnerving demonstration of the ability of the 
Uncontrollable Horniness virus to spread itself to other girls. As we herded 
the score of horny Juniors along, we could hear moaning breaking out 
among the watchers. The girls at the centre of the whole business were 
becoming restive again, too. Smegs's cold water treatment had chilled their 
ardour, but they were fast warming up again.

"They're still growing I think," I whispered to Corinne as we followed the 
girls through the quadrangle toward the elaborate fibreglass portico. 
"Anastasia had stopped being horny long before this. We'll probably find 
them still getting bigger this time tomorrow."

"Ooooh, I hope so," Corinne said, her eyes aglow. She was obviously getting 
pretty randy herself. I toyed with the idea of slipping away with her for 
an hour or so in bed, but I didn't want to miss the fun and games in 
Moggie's office.

We all filed in and the girls stood in an uncertain group, still shrouded in 
their blankets. Anastasia flung off Darren's overcoat and cast it aside with 
a flourish. Good to see her regaining her confidence. Her breasts actually 
stretching my oversized T-shirt, she walked among the girls, plucking the 
blankets from their shoulders and tossing them in a heap on the ground. 
Then she produced a pile of large cards, each marked with a big, bold 
letter from A to K. There was no letter I. The cards had a loop of string 
attached, and she hung them round the girls' necks, until each was 
identified with the formula with which she had been treated.

The scene was set for one of Moggie's Grand Entrances. Right on cue, Miss 
Labia flung open the door and Moggie strode in. She walked slowly to her 
desk, eyeing up the twenty stark naked girls, each clad in nothing but a 
label. Then she turned.

"Christ, Anastasia, you are fucking gigantic!" she gasped.

Anastasia blushed prettily.

"Thank you, Miss Thunderbolt," she said with a little curtsey.

"Thank *you*, Anastasia. And a very big thank you to all of you girls. I see 
some of you have grown. We will now examine you all most thoroughly to 
see which is the correct formula for maximum growth and which is the one 
for optimum lightness." She glanced round the group of Juniors. One or two 
had started crying again. Moggie's voice softened. "Those of you haven't 
grown as much as the others, don't worry. Once we know which formula to 
use, we can make you as big as the others!"

A hearty cheer rang out from at least a dozen deep young throats.

"All right, ladies," Moggie waved to her teaching staff. "Let's get this show 
on the road before these girls catch pneumonia."


**********

"Did you see her. She's still wearing that coat of Darren's." Suzanne ran a 
thoughtful hand across her breasts. She had felt unaccountably tingly all 
over when the group of blanketed girls had passed.

Pansy recognised the feeling. She even had a name for it. "I felt all horny 
just then. Did you feel the same?"

Suzanne nodded. "In here, yes. And down there in my thing."

"So did I. It was while those Seconds Formers were going past. Some of 
them looked big, as well."

"As well as what?"

"As well as Anastasia," said Pansy. "You noticed, surely? She's huge under 
there. I still think she's carrying a baby round under her coat, feeding it."

"She can't be feeding it all the time. It would burst. And you can't bring a 
baby up in the dark either." Suzanne suddenly looked apprehensive. "I 
hope she hasn't got huge tits all of a sudden."

"That coat looks even bigger than it did the other day, when she wouldn't 
get out of bed. They could never be THAT big, could they?"

Could they?

Suzanne looked down at her own mighty chest. Surely Anastasia wouldn't 
get bigger than these. She wouldn't dare!

Would she?

"Where were they taking them, anyway?" Suzanne looked at her cousin.

"Miss Thunderbolt's office. That's all there is through there. The only room 
big enough for all of them. There's just Miss Labia's, and the two staff 
rooms, and Miss Thunderbolt's. I wish we could spy on them."

"We can," Suzanne hopped up and down, her feet only leaving the ground 
by an inch or so, while her breasts bounced at least a foot. She stopped and 
clutched at herself. "We can," she said again. "We can look through the 
window."

"It's upstairs, Suze. How are we supposed to see through the window?"

Suzanne dragged her cousin round the corner and pointed to the building 
on the other side of the quad. "From up there. On the roof!"

"But it's miles away. Even if we could get up there, we'd never see 
anything."

"We would. Listen ...!"


**********

"Couldn't we have found something lighter than this fucking telescope, 
Suze?"

"Keep going, Pan. Only another fifty steps."

She arrived, panting, on the roof and waited while Pansy climbed the last 
of the iron fire escape.

"Hey, great view from up here, look!"

Pansy's breath was coming in great rasping gulps. She set the great brass 
telescope down on the flat roof of the science block. "That's fucking heavy."

"You're always moaning. I had to carry the tripod, remember." Suzanne 
began setting up the apparatus, while Pansy sat down heavily by the 
parapet. 

"It's freezing up here," she complained.

"I told you to wear your coat. Heeee, look at your nips! You're right, it must 
be cold." She giggled and applied her face to the eyepiece. Singing softly to 
herself, she adjusted the focus, then slowly traversed the telescope across 
the building opposite.

"What can you see?" Pansy shivered.

"The staff room on this side. Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen's in there. 
What's she doing? Strange. That's a funny way to do it." She tracked round 
to the left. "Ahhh," she said infuriatingly.

"What is it this time?"

"Old Labia. She's shaving her legs. I think it's her legs. I think she's 
shaving, anyway. Looks like an electric shaver she's got. Golly! Ouch, I bet 
that hurts!" She panned left again.

"What can you see?" Pansy demanded after what seemed like minutes of 
silence.

"I can see them. The girls are all stripped off and Miss Thunderbolt is 
looking at them. Hey, some of them have grown. Wow! Talk about grown! 
Hey, look at that! OH, NO!"

"I can't, you've got the sodding telescope. What's happening?"

Suzanne didn't reply. She stood up and stepped away from the instrument, 
shaking her head. She slumped into a sitting position and buried her face 
in her fingers.

"What is it, Suze?" Pansy recognised her cousin's dismay. She scrambled to 
her feet and peered into the telescope. The focus swam before her eyes 
until she adjusted the eyepiece. And the image leapt into startling clarity. 
It was Anastasia, in an extra large T-shirt. No doubt about it. No wonder 
Suzanne looked so flabbergasted. Anastasia was gigantic.

"Is it really her?" Suzanne asked dully, not raising her head from her 
hands.

"Yes, it's her all right."

Suzanne stood up like an automaton. "We'd better go down. It's freezing up 
here."


**********

"What's your name, girl?" Moggie addressed one of the largest of the girls, 
a delicately-boned creature like a fragile porcelain doll with enormous 
knockers. A card with the letter D hung round her neck, resting on the 
almost horizontal upper slopes of her breasts.

"Paulette, Miss Thunderbolt."

"That's a nice name, Paulette. How do you feel?"

"They're a bit strange, Miss Thunderbolt, but they're not heavy. And I'm 
not as horny as earlier." She blushed deep red. One or two of the other 
girls, reminded of their recent horniness, began to moan softly. Smegs 
identified the culprits and silenced them with a snarl.

"They're very big, Paulette, and very nice, too," smiled Moggie.

Paulette blushed prettily and Moggie passed on down the line. The next 
girl also wore a letter D.

"Zandra, isn't it?" said Moggie.

Zandra blushed prettily. "Yes Miss Thunderbolt," she piped.

"Great tits, Zandra."

"Thank you, Miss!"

The assessment continued. At last, Moggie was satisfied. Six very busty 
girls were selected and stood in a group by the window. Ten others ranged 
from slightly bigger to pretty huge. The other four had not changed 
noticeably at all.

Anastasia wrote the details of each girl against her list. She looked worried.

"What's the matter, Anastasia?" I asked her.

She furrowed her little brow and showed me the list. "Look!"

I studied the tiny writing. No doubt about it. All but two of the biggest 
girls were from one or other of the experimental group, the ones rubbed 
with variants of the unknown chemical. Fine so far. So had some of the 
other, less developed girls. The four girls with no increase at all had used 
formula B and formula J. And formula J, I remembered, was the antidote to 
FatLite. Excellent! But Anastasia was tapping her pencil insistently on the 
bottom line.

"These two, letter K," she whispered urgently. "They're enormous. The 
biggest of the lot. But they were given plain hand cream!"

I studied the two girls. Unaware of our interest, they were engaged in 
animated conversation with the rest of the very big girls. Their cards 
clearly carried a letter K. No doubt about it.

"You're sure, Anastasia?"

She went red and started to swell up. She thought I didn't trust her. 
Straight away, I placed a conciliatory hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry, love. I'm sure you're right. Hand cream it is, then!"

I glanced away. A movement had caught my eye. Just for a split second, I 
thought I had seen two little girls on the roof of the science block. They 
appeared to be carrying something. I stared, but there was no sign of them 
any more. I must be hallucinating. Probably the effect of all these Sexual 
Chemicals.

I glanced back again. The girls were getting restless. They had begun to 
touch one another intimately. It was easy enough for them, being 
completely naked. Their little hands reached out, pawing experimentally at 
each other's breasts. Little murmurs of delight sprang from the three 
separate groups, which were drifting toward each other, starting to mingle.

Moggie was deep in conversation with Smegs, probably about money. 
Corinne was looking from one to another of the enhanced Juniors, as if 
making her personal choice. She licked her lips and edged closer to them, 
and they accepted her into their touchy-feely circle without question. I 
wanted to join in, too, but Anastasia seemed want to talk about the various 
formulae.

Her voice droned on, getting more and more boring and technical. I nodded 
and muttered something appropriate whenever she stopped talking.

"... so we'll do that, then, Miss, shall we?"

"Oh, what? Yes, I think so, Anastasia. Good idea."

"I'll go and do it now. Before the girls get back to the dorm." Off she went. I 
thought she'd never go. I drifted at high speed toward the group of naked 
Juniors where Corinne was holding court. They hung on her every word, 
still touching each other gently. I joined them and felt their hands start 
touching me. They were such friendly little girls. Things were escalating. 
The level of conversation had risen several points. Suddenly, two of the 
girls hurled themselves into each other's arms, their open mouths meeting 
with a soft squelch. Without a word, the others paired off immediately.

I was left with Corinne, which wasn't the end of the world as far as I was 
concerned.

"God, I'm so Uncontrollably Horny," she sighed. "Take me to bed, darling!"

"Golly!" I said, at a loss for words. Her lips fastened on to mine. That was 
when I had a feeling that someone was watching. I opened my eyes. We 
were surrounded by snogging, panting Juniors, but beyond the crowd, 
Smegs was gazing at me. Moggie was still talking at her, but Smegs was 
preoccupied. She had her hand up her skirt. The sight of the girls getting it 
on again must have been having its effect on her.

The first of the pairs of girls had fallen to the carpet without breaking 
their kiss. They were joined by two more, then the other sixteen followed 
in a rapid cascade.

Moggie had finally noticed the bizarre goings-on.

"You girls! What on earth are you all doing? Get up at once! This is the 
headmistress's office. Stop it!" They ignored her magnificently. These girls 
were hungry for love. Having missed the previous five meals, they had 
every reason to be hungry, but for now, they were more than happy to eat 
each other. A swift calculation told me that twenty times sixty-nine was 
1,380.

Moggie was already on her hands and knees, butting her way in to the 
orgy. Five of the girls immediately turned their attention to her, tearing 
her clothes off in a quite disrespectful manner.

Corinne was dragging me away. Smegs was headed for the door, signalling 
with her thumb. It was time to get out of here.

We opened the door and Miss Labia hurtled in, off balance. She sprawled 
headlong and was taken in hand by three randy Juniors. Within seconds, 
she was nude. I took a quick glance back at the melee of bodies. I knew 
Moggie and Miss Labia were in there somewhere, but they were 
indistinguishable from the Juniors.

We tiptoed out.





Chapter 63:- The Hand Cream Girls


"Before you get into bed, you two ..."

We stopped and stared at Smegs. She looked uncomfortable. She was 
twitching her bottom about and scratching herself.

"What's up, Smegs?"

"It's my pussy," she admitted. "Remember when I rubbed the FatLite on it, 
before the spoon caught fire?" Smegs blushed deeply. "I tried to get some 
of the antidote cream to rub on it. But Anastasia's writing was too small to 
read. I opened a couple of the tubs, but they smelled the same. So I took a 
finger-full and rubbed it on. It made me itchy and horny, but nothing else 
as far as I can see." Poor Smegs. She was obviously really uncomfortable.

"Poor old Megan," Corinne said. "I've probably got something that will cool 
it down for you." She disappeared into the bedroom and came back with a 
small jar. "Here you are. Cool your pussy off with some of that. Keep it for 
tonight, I'll have it back in the morning."

"Oh, thanks, Cee!" Smegs took the jar and hurried away, bandy-legged. 
Corinne and I clung to each other for a while then plunged into the 
bedroom. Within seconds we were both naked and diving beneath the cool 
sheets.

"I don't know about Smegs's red-hot pussy," I said. "I could do with some 
of that stuff to cool mine down. What did you give her?"

"Oh, nothing special. Just some hand-cream!"

"Oh, that's all right then. I thought it might have been ... hand cream?"

"Yes. That's what I said."

"Oh, no. Corinne!"

"Ooooh, Chauntaille!"

"No, not that!" I struggled free and sat up in bed. "If Smegs puts that hand 
cream on her pussy, she'll get..."

"Get what, Shan?"

"I don't know," I wailed. "But the biggest of those Second Form girls? The 
ones with the really huge tits? They were the ones who were rubbed with 
FatLite ... and plain hand cream!"

"Oh, shit, Shannie!"

"Oh, Cee. What have we done?"

"Whatever we've done, we've done it. The way Megan ran into her 
bedroom, she'll have plastered the whole of that jar on to her puss by now. 
What's done's done!"

We both lay back. Poor old Smegs.

The interconnecting door to the kitchen opened and Anastasia came into 
the bedroom. She had a towel wrapped round her neck.

"Oh, hi, Miss! Just going for a shower. Could we get a key for my door, 
Miss? It will save me coming through all the time, disturbing you." And 
singing a happy little tune, she went out, the door banging shut behind her.

"Shit, we'll never be able to make love until she comes back," sighed 
Corinne. "Let's have a cup of coffee."

I followed her into the kitchen. The door to my old bedroom was half open. 
I peered inside.

Anastasia had certainly made herself at home. One wall was plastered with 
huge posters of what I could only assume were groups of musicians. Each 
group looked unnervingly similar: four or five young lads, one terribly 
handsome, one quiet and swarthy, one cuddly, one tiny and one ugly as 
sin. My old bed had a new duvet cover, in the form of a Union Jack. I had 
seen it before somewhere. The wardrobe door was ajar, and Anastasia's 
clothes were spilling out. None of them will fit her, I thought irrelevantly. 
Except that bra. An obscenely large-cupped bra was slung casually over 
the top of the wardrobe door.

What was she doing? The girl had moved all her goods and chattels in 
here. A large teddy bear had commandeered the bed and was staring 
amiably at me from the pillow. I backed out, bumping into Corinne.

"Oof!" She gasped. "Your fat arse, Shannie. What's up?"

"Anastasia's moved in. All her stuff's in there. Surely she doesn't think she 
can move out of the First Form dorm into the staff domestic quarters?"

"It looks as if she's already done it," said Corinne, going to the door and 
looking in. She pranced over to the posters on the wall. "Ooh, look, Take 
That!"

"Take what?"

She looked at me with disbelief. "Never mind," she said, and she followed 
me out and closed the door.

"What are we going to do?" I spread my hands wide.

"Somebody must have given her permission to move in, if you didn't. 
Moggie wouldn't have done that, would she?"

"Moggie does some strange things, but she always tells us what she's done. 
Oops, she's coming back."

"You have to ask her, Shan. Find out who gave her permission. Ask her 
now ..."

"I daren't ...!"

"I will, then!" Anastasia came in, towelling her hair. Corinne took her wrist 
and the girl looked down in surprise at her hand. "Anastasia, did Miss 
Thunderbolt give you permission to move in next door?"

"No, of course not!" She giggled. "It was Miss Gruntworthy. It's only until 
I've had my baby."

Corinne looked at me and shrugged helplessly.

"Baby?" I said. "You mean you *are* pregnant?"

"You said I was!"

"Nurse said you were. She told Miss Meadowlark."

"Excuse me!" Corinne was indignant. "She did not!"

"But you *said* I could move in. I can't live in the dorm, not with boobs 
this size. They'll all be horrible to me. Now you're trying to throw me out." 
She looked at me for a moment, tears filling her eyes, then she ran out into 
her bedroom.

Corinne just looked at me, then breathed out slowly. "Wow, Shannie," she 
said. "What have you done this time?"

"I don't know," I wailed. "What's happening? What can I do?"

"I can't help you. You've got to go in there and break it to that poor child 
that she has to go back to the dorm and move her stuff out of here. The 
sooner the better. Go and get it over with."

I slunk in next door. If Anastasia had been lying on her bed cuddling her 
teddy bear and bawling her eyes out, I might have been able to manage it. 
She wasn't. She was standing silently, gazing up at the largest of the 
posters on the wall. She was in profile, silhouetted by the light from the 
small window. Her dressing gown lay on the bed and I picked it up.

"You'd better put this on, love, you'll freeze." I placed it over her shoulders 
like a cloak. She said nothing. The dressing gown failed to cover her 
breasts. "This is a horrible mix-up," I said, placing an arm round her waist.

"I cried when Take That broke up," she said, speaking for the first time. 
She hadn't taken her eyes off the poster. "I was ever so sad, 'cos I wasn't 
going to hear them again. Ever."

It dawned on me that she was talking about the group of boys in the 
poster. "These things happen, Anastasia," I said, soothingly. "There's always 
..." I squinted at the smaller poster, trying to read the name at the bottom. 
"There's always E17. Or ... or," I struggled to think of another group. 
Inspiration came to me. "There's always Oasis!"

Anastasia looked at me as if I had crawled out from beneath a stone. "Oh, 
yuck, Miss!"

At least she was talking to me. I cuddled her more firmly. "Anastasia, you 
know when I said you could move in here ...?"

"It was only until baby came, Miss. But now there isn't a baby at all. How 
can I tell the girls that, Miss. They were looking forward to having a baby 
about the place. They'll be rotten to me. I'll still have to go to classes with 
them, but I can't go back in the dorm. I'll run away if you do that. I'll be a 
sex slave. You can't make me stay in the dorm, Miss. I'm not the same as 
the others!"

She clung to me, crying at last, tears flooding down her face to splash on to 
her boobs. I stroked her hair, patted her shoulders, guided her to the bed. 
"Lie down, darling. Have a little sleep. Everything will be better. We'll work 
something out." I handed her the teddy bear. "Cuddle teddy," I suggested.

"I'm nearly twelve, Miss," she said, shocked. "Teddy is a bag to keep my 
nightie in. He's got a zipper in his arse, look." She demonstrated the teddy 
bear, unzipping his bottom with a strangely apt sound. Her nightie was 
inside the bear, now unzipped all the way up his back and looking sorry 
for himself. "I don't wear the nightie any more. My tits are too huge. But 
he's not a toy, see?" I felt let down somehow.

"You can have one of my nighties, or Miss Meadowlark's. They'll fit you 
nicely, with room to grow. Come in later and we'll find you something. 
Make it later, before bedtime."

"Why, are you and Miss Meadowlark going to fuck? It's all right, Miss. I 
won't disturb you. If I had the key to that other door, I wouldn't need to 
keep going through your room."

"I'll find a key for you, Jeremy will have a spare."

"So I can stay, Miss?" Anastasia's eyes, still shining with tears, suddenly lit 
up and her face filled with joy. "Oh, Miss! I can! I'm staying!"

How do I get myself in these situations?


**********

"Done? Is she leaving?" Corinne looked up at my face and her jaw dropped 
open. "What have you done?"

"She's not exactly leaving. Not straight away, at least. Well, not at all, 
actually. I'll get her a key for the other door so she won't bother us in here. 
And I'll explain to Moggie that Anastasia's staying over here for a while, 
and why."

"That ought to be interesting," said Corinne, innocently. "Why is she 
staying, Shannie?"

"She's scared to go back to the dorm with those tits. If she's bigger than 
Pansy and Suzanne, she says they'll hate her."

"They could always make her smaller," Corinne suggested, "once they get 
Shrink perfected. It would be a good incentive for them to perfect it, after 
all. Or, hey, why not! You could make Pansy and Suzanne bigger so they 
won't need to be mad at Anastasia any more. You won't need to make 
them much bigger, they're both pretty huge already ...!"

She caught sight of my face.

"It's all right. Only a joke!"

"I wish you wouldn't joke about such things, Cee. Somebody might hear 
you." I jerked my thumb in the direction of Anastasia's room.

There was a knock on the door.

"If that's those First Form Sexual Chemistry Group kids again, I'm going to 
throw them down the stairs," I growled, and yanked the door open.

Smegs came in, looking worried about something. She stood looking around 
her, uncertain what to say. She even took a pace or two in several 
directions, stopping short and spinning round.

"Smegs! Stand still a minute. You're making me giddy." She stopped, and 
started chewing on her fingers. I'd never seen her like this. "What's the 
matter?"

"It's my pussy! You know I had this itch after I put the FatLite cream on 
it? Just before the spoon caught fire?"

"Yes!" I snapped. The spoon catching fire had obviously made a big 
impression on Smegs.

"Well, Corinne gave me the hand cream to cool it down a bit." That was a 
delicate way of phrasing it. "So I rubbed a little bit on, and it felt nice. I got 
one of the girls to rub some more on it, and it felt even better."

"One of the girls?"

"A Second Form girl. Not one of the FatLite girls. Just a pantie sorter, 
nobody really."

"Oh, good!"

"Anyway, she rubbed a handful of the cream on to me, and I came literally 
like I have never come in my life before!"

"Oh, Smegs!"

"Yes! And I let her rub me a few more times, and it just kept getting better 
and better. I thought, this is all right!"

She began to pace around again, until I grabbed her arm.

"We meant to tell you, but it was too late. The girls who grew most were 
the ones who had FatLite, and after that, they had ordinary hand cream 
rubbed on their boobs. So that's what made you horny. It's the 
Uncontrollable Horniness, in spades. Has it worn off now?"

"It's still there, in the background, kind of thing. If I touched myself, I'd be 
off again. But ... what you said about those kids being the biggest? The 
hand cream girls? Have you any idea what might happen if you rubbed the 
stuff on your pussy instead of your tits? I mean, not the Uncontrollable 
Horniness. More like ... the size?"

"We haven't tried. You're the only one who has ever tried it." I studied her 
face. "Oh, no! Smegs, you don't mean ...?"

"I think so," she said. "Things are bigger than I remembered."

"Things?"

"Those things, yes. And that thing, too!"

"Golly, Smegs. Can we see?"

She hoisted her skirt. Corinne crawled to the edge of the bed. From that 
position, her face was no more than inches away from the scene of Smegs's 
latest enhancement. A little too close, she realised, and backed away a foot 
or so. I got down on my knees and took a closer look myself.

"Is it any bigger, Shannie?" asked Corinne. "You're more familiar with it 
than I am."

"It seems to be. Her labia are fatter and they're getting quite dangly, too." I 
probed with a finger. "Bloody hell, they are, too!" I tugged at the lips and 
they stretched most generously.

"Shan ...!" Smegs's voice carried a warning. "Please, no!"

"And her clit, look, Cee!"

She looked. I touched, and Smegs jumped almost to the ceiling. "SHAN!"

Smegs had certainly been right about one thing. It had only taken a touch 
to set her off again. Well, a touch, a bit of a tug here and there, and just a 
little lick. We watched Smegs as she subsided in a quivering heap on the 
rug before the fire. Such things are better left undescribed. But having said 
that, such things make an excellent spectator sport. By the time Smegs was 
approaching her tenth orgasm, Corinne and I were joining her, in spirit if 
not in body, on the bed.

"God, you lot are so noisy," yelled Anastasia, to make herself heard over 
our screams. "What's a girl have to do to get any sleep round here?"




Part XXII





Chapter 64:- Most Extraordinary


"I have called this extraordinary meeting," said Moggie, "because some 
extraordinary things have been happening. I like to keep my finger on 
things."

I jerked my hand away guiltily from Smegs's groin, and Smegs fell off her 
chair. The poor girl had become literally insatiable since her misadventure 
with FatLite and hand cream. Moggie had loaned her a vibrator and a taxi 
brought her a large box of replacement cells every day, but the loud 
buzzing was too disturbing during a meeting, so Moggie had given me 
permission to keep Smegs occupied as well as I could.

"What's happened to her?" Moggie stood up to see over the desk. "Where's 
she gone?"

"She fell on the floor," I said. "Couldn't we get a girl to service her for a 
while? I'm getting cramp in my wrist."

"You've only been touching her up for ten minutes, Chauntaille. You ought 
to be able to keep going a bit longer than that."

"I'm getting RSI, Miss Thunderbolt," I said, huffily. "Get someone else to do 
it."

Corinne was already shaking her head vigorously, and Miss Rhys ap 
Llewelyn Owen was staring out of the window.

With ill grace, Miss Thunderbolt keyed the intercom on her desk. "Labia, 
send for a Second Form girl, please, in my office immediately. Dress 
optional. Make sure she's clean, it's warm in here."

"Yes, Miss Thunderbolt," came Miss Labia's voice, tinny in the loudspeaker. 
"Is it for Miss Mountains's pussy?"

"Yes, you know it is, you were listening."

"I'll make it two girls then, they can take it in turns."

"We'll carry on without Megan for a while," said Moggie. "Corinne, I need to 
give you more responsibility. The sudden expansion of half of the Second 
Form has made me aware of the problem. It will be your task to write to 
the parents of girls who have suddenly developed giant breasts. You will 
be responsible for communications and counselling. Some of the parents 
may find it hard to adjust to their daughters suddenly having breasts the 
size of basketballs. God knows why!"

"Yes, Miss Thunderbolt."

"I have given my word to those girls who kindly participated in the recent 
FatLite and SuperLite experiment and who failed to develop to the 
optimum extent, that they would be permitted to expand further. I have 
already authorised the purchase of the necessary chemicals. Chauntaille, 
that will be your task, in conjunction with the First Form Sexual Chemistry 
Group."

"Yes, Miss Thunderbolt."

"Now." She raised her voice to be heard above an extra loud howl of 
outraged ecstasy from Smegs. "God, she's fucking loud, that woman. What 
about young Anastasia?"

"What about her?" I asked, defensively. Did Moggie know that Anastasia 
had moved into my old bedroom.

"I thought we'd better make her Head Girl."

"Head Girl? But she's only eleven!"

"There's nothing in the St Catherine's High School for Girls Rules that says a 
Head Girl has to be in the Upper Sixth Form, nor even a Senior girl. I 
checked the rules, so don't bother looking it up. She's got a lot in her 
favour." Moggie held up her fingers and ticked them off one by one. "She's 
good at her work. She's not too popular with her classmates, so she won't 
have any favourites. She's getting absolutely fucking gigantic tits. And last 
but not least, she seems to have moved into the staff domestic quarters."

I went red and hung my head in embarrassment.

"You didn't think I wouldn't notice, Chauntaille? Really, my dear! She 
seems to have settled in quite well, although that room is rather small for 
a girl in such an important position. I may have to find her somewhere 
more spacious..."

She broke off as the door opened and Miss Labia ushered in two small 
girls. Tearing off their blouses and skirts, they fell upon Smegs's writhing 
body without a word, and began easing her torment with eager tongues 
and fingers. They looked frighteningly efficient.

"As I was saying, I may consider allowing Megan to move in next to you 
two, and moving young Anastasia into Megan's old room. It's just a 
thought. One of many options open to me, and under current 
consideration."

I hoped she would reconsider. Smegs would be unbearable if she had to 
give up her bedroom to make way for an eleven year old, even if she 
*was* the next Head Girl.

"One other point, Chauntaille. You may come under some pressure from 
Suzanne and Pansy to enlarge them. I have received a letter," she fished a 
single sheet of paper from her desk drawer, "from a Ms Woods, Suzanne's 
mother. She says that under no circumstances am I to allow her daughter 
to enlarge her breasts artificially."

"You mean Suzanne has asked her mother to let her get bigger?"

"So it seems. Apparently, the young lady and her cousin are concerned that 
Anastasia has grown larger than them. They complained to Suzanne's 
mother and threatened to use chemical enhancement to 'make that 
Anastasia look like a little boy next to them'. Those are the exact words 
Suzanne used. One shudders to think how big she means by that."

One did. The scary thought was that the kids of the First Form Sexual 
Chemistry Group had the ability to do it. Even using the old crude boob 
juice, they could have done it. Suzanne and Pansy still had a little selective 
amnesia about the boob juice, but they certainly knew the potential of 
other chemicals. Shrink, for example, was spectacularly unsuccessful at 
making breasts smaller. A good dose of that, and two days later, they 
would be twice as big as before. And they could hardly have failed to see 
the effects of FatLite. It wouldn't take them long to work out how to use 
FatLite in combination with other substances to make the biggest breasts 
of all time.

"I'll speak to them," I said, without much hope. The only real hope I had 
was that the young cousins would continue to develop naturally. With luck 
and good sense, they would realise that it was only a matter of time before 
they were as big as Anastasia again, without taking any risks with those 
nasty dangerous chemicals.

"The other matter is to do with Megan," said Moggie, clearing her throat. 
"Megan," she enunciated, rather like a carer in an old persons' home. "May 
I have a WORD with you, please?"

A grunt came from Smegs, somewhere underneath her two Second Form 
masturbatory assistants.

"Two things, Megan. Smeggy Dolls. Do you still need the Junior Statistics 
Group to provide measurements of selected models for the first series of 
dolls?"

"Uh-huh!"

"And the commercial exploitation of FatLite and Superlite? Any progress?"

Smegs groaned and struggled into a hands and knees position. Her two 
young friends repositioned themselves. "What about SuperLabia and 
SuperClit," she muttered thickly.

"We appreciate your work in this field, Megan, we really do. But I don't 
think it is quite ready for the public just yet. A preparation which caused 
such Uncontrollable Horniness would perhaps be dangerous in the wrong 
hands. We may need to do more work on it. Use all the girls you need."

"Thanks," grunted Smegs. "It makes them grow, it's just the Uncontrollable 
Horniness that we need to work on." She yelped again as one of her girls 
detached herself briefly and came up for air. The girl dived in again hastily 
and Smegs became relatively quiet. In her present position, I couldn't 
quite see how the growth aspect had been coming along. I got down on the 
floor for a closer look. Oh, yes! It was working all right. Smegs now 
presented quite an interesting appearance down there. If you liked that 
sort of thing.

"When you've quite finished, Chauntaille?"

"Sorry, Miss Thunderbolt!"

"I think we can close this meeting. You all know what to do?" She opened a 
window. "I think we'd better let these three get on with it in peace," she 
said, and we all left the room together.


**********

"She said WHAT?" Smegs stormed across the room and slammed her fist 
against the door. She turned and faced us, her eyes blazing. "She wants to 
move me out of my room into that little hell-hole next door?"

"That's *my* room, Smegs! It's not as bad as all that."

"If it's not that bad, why don't you go and sleep in it? And she wants to let 
that big-titted little tart ..."

"Huge-titted," I insisted.

"Gigantic-titted," corrected Corinne.

"And she's not a tart ..."

"... that vast-breasted vixen," Smegs amended, "that balloon-boobed bimbo, 
that ..."

"Monster-mammed minx," suggested Corinne.

Smegs stopped and looked at her as if she suspected she was being 
mocked. Corinne's face was blank.

"...That GIRL! To let her move into my room. MY room! And to make her 
Head Girl!" Smegs stood rigid, and tears sprang into her eyes. She suddenly 
shook her hand and cradled it gently in the other one. "Bastard door!" She 
inspected her bruised knuckles. "Why did she tell you and not me?"

"You were there. It was in a meeting. Just because you were on the floor, 
playing with yourself, you can't expect us to repeat everything extra loud 
just for you."

"My pussy was on fire," Smegs reminded us. "Same as that wooden spoon."

"How is it now, Megan?" Corinne put the question in a soothing voice.

Smegs's hand strayed automatically to the hem of her skirt, and hiked it 
up. Corinne and I averted our gaze as Smegs began touching herself 
intimately. "I'm so hot," she moaned.

She wasn't wearing any panties, I noticed, chancing a swift glance. Just 
checking. This was serious. Smegs was fastidious about wearing panties. 
She believed in setting a good example to the girls.

"Warmer today, don't you think?" I asked Corinne.

"They're talking about rain later," she said mournfully.

I sniffed the air. "Hmmm. I suppose they know best. Still, they've been 
wrong before ..."

"She has the most dangly pussy lips I ever saw in my life," Corinne 
changed the subject abruptly.

"Must be a couple of inches."

"At least."

"Hard to tell when she's pulling them about like that."

"Pity, yes!"

We watched Smegs in comparative silence for several minutes. It must 
have been quite a gripping spectacle, because we didn't even notice when 
Anastasia joined us, sitting on the foot of the bed. A well brought up girl, 
she waited until Smegs stopped before speaking.

"Excuse me, Miss. Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to borrow a cup of 
sugar. It's only until I can persuade the disco lad to steal some from the 
restaurant."

Anastasia wasn't staring at Smegs: the sight of women and girls pleasuring 
themselves was such a commonplace thing that she accepted it as normal 
behaviour. I wondered what she would think if her mother did it at home. 
She sat patiently, waiting for an answer, picking her nose and inspecting 
the proceeds minutely before wiping her fingers on the bed covers.

I was about to wipe it off, but Corinne told me to leave it until it dried. She 
was right, as usual.

"Help yourself, Anastasia, darling," said Corinne. "If the kettle has boiled, 
you could make us all a cup of coffee as well. Make one for Miss Mountains 
as well."

Anastasia bustled happily away, glad to be of service.

"She's made herself really at home, hasn't she?" Smegs sounded bitter.

"That's why I don't think she'd want to move into your place," I said. "She 
really loves her little room. I don't think wild horses could drag her out of 
there."

There was silence as we all considered this scenario, and Anastasia came in 
with three mugs. She only spilled about half of it when her left boob 
contacted the door frame. I felt for her, but realised that she would get 
used to them in time.

Smegs accepted her coffee with a grunt, and even when she was about to 
scream and shout that there was no sugar in hers, she found Anastasia, 
ever obliging, offering her the sugar bowl and spoon.

"She's a little sweetie," I said, after Anastasia had closed the door softly 
behind her. "She could be quite useful about the place."

"But Head Girl!" Smegs was coming to the boil again.

"It won't be until the present Upper Sixth Form have left," Corinne said. 
"That will be months yet."

I saw Corinne's point. "And even though some of the girls in the Lower 
Sixth do have bigger boobs than Anastasia, she could easily be as big as 
them by the end of the summer holidays. And her boobs are so light, she 
always be far more mobile then the older ones, size for size. She's an ideal 
role model for girls of all ages!"

"Now you know she's not pregnant," Smegs said cruelly.

"That was a mistake," I said. "I always knew, deep down, she was a good 
girl."

We sat quietly, sipping our coffee. Somewhere in the distance, a phone 
rang two or three times. Smegs had remained standing. Finally, she 
plonked down her empty mug.

"Say thank you to your Head Girl for the coffee. I'm off to my room to rub 
myself with something cool and soothing ..."

The kitchen door opened. Anastasia came through.

"Sorry to interrupt again, Miss. Miss Gruntworthy, the phone rang just now. 
It was for you. I tried to explain it was my room now, but Miss Labia 
wouldn't listen. She said it was Mrs Lashmore for you."

I jumped up. "Dawn Lashmore? Is she still there?"

"No, she couldn't stay. I took a message." She plucked a scrap of paper from 
beneath her breast. What a clever idea. I would never have thought of 
tucking pieces of paper underneath mine. "Here. She said she is down this 
way tomorrow with ... Coots?"

"Toots. It's her stepdaughter."

"Toots. I remember Toots! That little black kid. She's coming down here 
because Toots wants to discuss a business deal."

"A business deal!" Smegs tossed her head. "The girl's ten, for Chrissakes!"

"She's found a buyer for her Sack business ..."

"That'll be her sex business, you remember, Anastasia, she deals in sex 
slaves ..."

"...her sex business, and they'll be almost passing the door, so would it be 
all right if they dropped in, the way you said? Just for a visit, to look 
round."

Corinne laughed. "Sounds great. It would be nice to see Dawn again. And 
young Toots."

"That's right. I still don't know if I really *believe* young Toots," I said."

"That's great!" Smegs was scornful. "Tomorrow's Saturday. Moggie will be 
away getting fucked again. St Cat's will be crawling with girls dressed as 
absolute sluts and harlots. That's if they bother getting out of bed at all. A 
fine impression that's going to make on a visitor. A new girl's mother, 
even! Who is going to show Toots round the school?"

Corinne and I looked at Anastasia.

"How about the next Head Girl?"

Anastasia looked puzzled.

"Anastasia, how would you feel about becoming a guide to St Catherine's 
High School for Girls for a day? Take one of the next generation of St Cat's 
girls under your wing. Or take her to your bosom. You two seem to get on 
well together. Chalk and cheese, but you do have an awful lot in common." 

Thinking about it, I couldn't be altogether sure which was chalk and which 
was cheese.

"Sounds great," grinned Anastasia. 

"You wait 'til the First Form girls meet her," muttered Smegs. 

"Did Mrs Lashmore want me to call her back?" I asked.

"No need," said Anastasia, "I told her eleven o' clock!"





Chapter 65:- Toots Pays A Visit


"You ready, Anastasia? Your guest has arrived!" I pounded on the kitchen 
door then returned to the window, where Corinne was peering out at the 
huge car which had just pulled up outside. Dawn and Toots climbed out 
and stood looking around them at the intimidating buildings, the ancient 
soft brick walls covered with ivy which had been carefully transplanted 
four years ago by the builders.

Anastasia appeared from her room.

"Are you dressing like that?" I enquired, aghast.

"What's wrong with it," she said defensively. She looked down at herself, 
seeing nothing too outrageous. "It's not cold outside today!"

I had never noticed Anastasia's legs before, apart from remarking 
routinely on their creaminess. Her skirt revealed rather more of them than 
normally met the eye. Golly, I thought. Corinne had noticed them, too, and 
her eyes were boggling. It might have been slightly less disturbing if 
Anastasia's skirt had covered the tops of her stockings, with their curiously 
intricate array of stark black suspension devices, which contrasted with 
her creaminess.

Perhaps, too, her legs would have been a little less obtrusive if she had 
been wearing more suitable shoes. Black slingbacks with heels, in my 
opinion, were not suitable wear for a young schoolgirl, even if she was to 
be the next Head Girl of St Catherine's High School for Girls.

One might have forgiven Anastasia all this if her top had been perhaps a 
little less revealing. I glanced down into her cleavage and noticed her 
navel for the first time. She was wearing only a man's extra large singlet, 
canary yellow and stretched drum-tight across the peaks of her nipples. 
Great big mounds of breast oozed out of every available aperture, plus a 
few which were not really available at all.

"It might be better if you stopped breathing, Anastasia, you are rather 
bouncy in that top."

"My bra was a bit tight," she explained, "so I left it off."

I removed Anastasia's glasses, polished them with my hankie and replaced 
them on her nose.

"You look great," I said. "A credit to St Cat's. What do you think, Cee?"

"Staggering," she agreed, experimentally touching the nearer of Anastasia's 
nipples with a fingernail. Not altogether surprisingly, it erected itself even 
more than before.

"Golly, Miss! How did you do that?" Anastasia said. "You'd better do the 
other one to match!"

We all hurried down the stairs and out of the door, where Dawn was 
beginning to look anxious. Understandably so, as a small crowd of 
deliciously sluttish St Cat's girls had gathered to stare at her and Toots in 
menacing silence. Sluttish, perhaps, but they all gasped in unison as 
Anastasia bounced into view. Even in their tight jeans, their skimpy shorts, 
their bursting sweaters and shirts, they couldn't hold a candle to her.

Toots, though, made my jaw fall open. In an interesting complement to her 
stepmother's county tweeds and sensible shoes, Toots was immaculately 
dressed in a tailored black business suit, with crisp white shirt and tie 
contrasting with her chocolate skin. With her hair pulled up in a severe 
style, she looked at least thirteen. I allowed my gaze to run down across 
her absurdly prominent bosom, to the just-above-the-knee skirt and 
beyond. She moved with practised ease on her towering heels, unlike 
Anastasia, who keep losing her balance and clip-clopping off in unexpected 
directions.

The two girls sized each other up while Corinne and I greeted Dawn. By the 
time we turned to go indoors, the two were hugging each other with 
abandonment. A great sigh went up from the watching sluts.

Toots banged on the roof of the car and spoke to her driver. "You c'n go an' 
get fucked, Nigel," she advised him, and the young man's face lit up. "Come 
back when I call you, okay?"

"Sure, Miss Toots," he said respectfully, and wheeled away with a scrunch 
of gravel under his huge and manly wide wheels.

"Will you girls be all right?" I asked Anastasia, and she beamed and 
nodded.

"I'll take Toots to the dorm," she said, "if I've got her with me, they won't 
*dare* say anything!"

They set off. I heard Toots clear voice saying, "Hey, you grown dese last 
few weeks!"

"Come on, Dawn," I said. "Let's have a cup of coffee."


**********

"What do you think of your first sight of St Cat's, then, Dawn?" Corinne 
asked her. We had dug out the best cups and saucers in her honour.

"Most impressive place. Lovely old buildings. A real air of tradition 
stretching back over the ages."

"We're out of cow's milk, Dawn, would girl-milk be all right?"

Dawn hesitated, uncertain what to say.

"It's mine," said Corinne.

"Oh, in that case, white with no sugar, please."

"What do you think about the St Cat's girls?" I said.

"Yes. The girls. I was going to mention them. I mean, I'm used to well-
developed girls, *very* well-developed girls, what with my younger 
daughter, and Toots, but Anastasia? She seems to have grown immensely 
since I saw her last. And she's not been stuffing her bra, either. She's 
obviously not wearing one, the way she's bouncing!"

"No," I agreed, feeling slightly uncomfortable. How much could one say? 
"She grew a bit last week. It happens!"

"And those others who came and watched us when we arrived and got out 
of the car. Nowhere near the size of Anastasia, but they look so ... what's 
the word I'm looking for ...?"

"Sluttish?" Corinne offered.

"That's one word for it," laughed Dawn. "They look more like ..."

"Whores," I suggested.

"Well, I wouldn't put it quite as strongly as that, perhaps. More like tarts, 
really."

"Tarts is a much nicer word," agreed Corinne. "Sweeter. They're really all 
very nice girls. Pure as the driven snow. Or slush."

"It's Saturday morning, you see," I said, as if that explained everything.

"Ah, I see!" Dawn shifted in her seat. She reached behind her and came up 
with whatever had been making her chair uncomfortable.

"Oooh, I've been looking for that," admitted Corinne.

I blushed slightly. I had never realised Corinne used one of those.


**********

"They said there was a great big posh car pulled up and this girl got out 
with some woman." Suzanne was sitting up in bed brushing her hair. She 
paused for breath. It was hard work, brushing your hair in bed with tits as 
big as hers.

"Black girl, somebody said," Pansy watched her cousin's reflection in her 
dressing table. Pansy was experimenting with make-up. She had so far 
achieved a result midway between a streetwalker and Coco the Clown, and 
felt quite encouraged.

"How old?"

"They didn't say. Big tits, apparently, but she was wearing a black suit so 
she was probably quite old. But guess who was there to meet her? 
Anastasia! And they were hugging each other like long lost friends."

"What, Anastasia and an old girl? How would they know each other?"

"Dunno. But Anastasia was dressed like a tart, they said. Short skirt, no bra, 
tits like pumpkins."

"How big's a pumpkin?" Suzanne looked at her cousin sharply. She sounded 
worried.

"They come in all sizes. We could ask the restaurant lady at dinner time."

"What happened anyway? Where did they go?"

"The woman went indoors with Miss Gruntworthy and ..." Pansy's eyes 
went dreamy "... Miss Meadowlark, but the black girl went off with 
Anastasia, somewhere. They wouldn't come in here, anyway, Anastasia's 
shit scared to come anywhere near us now."

"Yeah," said Suzanne. "Just wait 'til I see her! I'll show her what big tits are 
all about!"


**********

"There go Toots and Anastasia now," said Dawn.

We were standing by the window, looking down over the quadrangle. Sure 
enough, the two girls had just come into view on the far side, over by the 
bra measuring facility.

"I wonder where they've been," said Corinne.

"Maybe Anastasia dropped in to see Clit and Flaps. She said her bra was 
tight this morning. It's why she's not wearing one. She might be taking 
advantage of having Toots as an escort."

"They're going into the dorm now by the look of it," laughed Corinne. "If 
she's going to need an escort, it will be in there!"

I thought I'd better give Dawn an explanation. "Since Anastasia grew last 
week, she's scared of the other Junior girls. She thinks they'll be jealous of 
her being bigger than them."

"I'd better not enrol Lucinda at St Cat's, then," Dawn spluttered. "She's got 
even bigger tits than Toots. Not as big as Anastasia's any more, though! I 
can't believe how big she is now. What causes it, does anyone have any 
idea?"

Corinne and I shook our heads, our eyes wide and innocent.

"I can honestly say we have no idea, Mrs Lashmore!" Corinne said.

In silence we watched the girls disappear indoors, then we turned away 
from the window.

Dawn shook her head disbelievingly. "Have you noticed how Anastasia 
seems to bounce so much more than you'd expect? You would think her 
breasts ought to be enormously heavy, yet the way they bounce around, 
you'd almost think they were full of air!


**********

A girl burst into the First Form dormitory.

"Look out! Anastasia's coming. She's got a little black woman with her, 
great big tits. They've *both* got great big tits!"

Suzanne gaped at the girl, and wondered whether to get out of bed. Too 
late, she didn't want to be caught half naked by Anastasia and her guest. 
She turned and plumped up her pillows, then leaned back against them 
like the Queen of Sheba.

Pansy, her hands shaking, left an erratic smear of lipstick across one cheek. 
She turned to look at the door. All down the length of the dorm, anxious 
faces gazed in the same direction. Absolute silence fell.

"They've gone," muttered a single voice.

"Shhhhhhhhh!"

And the door opened.

"This is the First Form dormitory, where you'll be sleeping when you 
arrive. This lot will have moved out by then, they'll all be in the Seconds 
..." Anastasia strolled down the centre aisle, allowing her breasts to bounce 
no more than six inches or so. She was followed by the wondering Toots, 
who stared about her as if she had never been inside a dormitory in her 
life. She sniffed the air.

"Smells sexy in here," she said.

"Always does on a Saturday morning," said Anastasia, "the ones who aren't 
experimenting with perfume and stuff just lie in bed all morning wanking." 
She fixed her gaze on Suzanne, who felt herself blushing.

"Dat's a shame! Nevah waste a good or-gasm!" Toots grinned about her, and 
those girls who were still in bed looked ashamed of themselves.

"I'd better introduce you to some of my friends," sighed Anastasia, 
unwillingly. "That's Pansy, Shona over there, milking herself ..."

In turn, the girls acknowledged Toots's cheery wave.

"... and this is Suzanne."

Toots looked Suzanne up and down, then stepped over to her bed and 
pulled down the covers.

"Hey, man, you, pretty big! Not as big as Stazia, but big." She hastily 
replaced the sheet. "Carry on playin' wid yourself," she said, and took a 
step back, fanning herself with her hand.

Suzanne was outraged. None of the other girls would even look at her. 
Toots had done something not one of the others would have dared to do. 
They bit their lips and looked anywhere but at Suzanne.

Anastasia and Toots moved on. "Hi, Staze," murmured Shona quietly. 
"You're huge now!"

Anastasia blushed prettily.

Toots wanted to know how much milk Shona produced, was she under 
contract to anyone for its sale, and did Shona know that her tits were the 
biggest Toots had seen since her friend Candi had her second baby? Shona 
said about two gallons; no, she wasn't and no, she didn't. It seemed to 
satisfy Toots, who nodded.

"We'd better be getting on, Toots," said Anastasia. "It's nearly feeding 
time."

"Bye, girls!" Toots waved to them all, shook Suzanne's foot playfully 
beneath the bed covers, and pranced out of the dorm.

Silence returned.

"Well ...!" said a voice.

"Don't you dare say a fucking word," Suzanne snarled at nobody in 
particular, and flinging the sheets back, she leapt out of bed. Then she 
stormed out of the dorm to the toilet. The door slammed behind her. One 
or two of the more daring girls pretended to fan themselves with exercise 
books, but only when they were sure cousin Pansy wasn't looking.


**********

"Here they come, I think."

Anastasia's crystal voice was echoing down the corridor. They stopped 
outside the door.

"My room's next door. I've got my own key now, but your mother's in here 
with Miss Meadowlark and Miss Gruntworthy." She lowered her voice to a 
piercing whisper. "They sleep together, you know!"

The door opened and the girls came in, to be faced by a blushing trio of 
women. Corinne and I were wondering where to hide our faces, while 
Dawn, who had already guessed anyway, would rather not have heard.

"Hi, Miss. We've had a good look around. I ordered my new bra from Miss 
Clit. She says I'm a bit special, so I'll need to go back when she's put the 
right cups on an SS for me, whatever that means."

"It means your boobs are a little bigger than one would normally expect to 
find on such a small girl," I told her."

"We know that!" Anastasia wrinkled her nose. "Why do they have to be so 
technical about it?"

"It's just the way they are, these bra people. They like a bit of mystique."

"Well, she said I've got such lovely nipples, she's going to give me a 
FreeTips! Whoopee! She says I'll be the first FreeTips in the Juniors!"

"Yes," I said, "I imagine you will be."

"It's a good job they're not heavy," admitted Anastasia, cupping her 
mounds from underneath, "they've been bouncing around so much, they 
hurt a bit."

Toots took a step into the limelight in the centre of the room. "See anythin' 
different Auntie Mum?" she giggled, thrusting out her chest and jiggling 
around a bit.

"Well, it's difficult to say, since I don't often see you in that smart suit, but 
yes, you look a little fuller, somehow."

"I got me a new bra," she crowed. "I forget de size. It was a whole load of 
letters. "What you tink, Miss Gruntworthy?"

"Very nice," I said faintly.

"I paid for it wid me own money," Toots said. "It wouldn't be fair to get it 
free until I start here properly in September. I earned fourteen pound 
twenty-five down de school last evenin'!"

"Which stingy bugger only paid twenty-five pence," asked Anastasia 
innocently.

"All of them," giggled Toots, and punched Anastasia on the upper arm.

The St Cat's girl looked confused. She'd obviously led a sheltered life if she 
hadn't heard that one before.

Dawn looked even more embarrassed.

"Toots does odd jobs down at the school," she explained. I wondered if 
Dawn had led a sheltered life as well.

"So what do you think of St Cat's, Toots," Corinne said, taking a deep breath 
and saving the situation.

"I tink I can do somethin' wid dis place," she said modestly. "It might take 
a month or two's organisin', but de place shows definite po-tential!"





Chapter 66:- A Night In


Corinne had gone to the restaurant with the empty picnic hamper. The 
disco lad had Saturdays off.

"Did you like Toots, Miss Gruntworthy?" Anastasia looked up at me 
anxiously. Her singlet, or whatever it was, had finally given up the unequal 
struggle. There was more of Anastasia outside it than in. 

"Excuse me," I said, and pulled the edge of the yellow cotton across so that 
it covered her right nipple and at least a third of the areola. I gave up 
when her left one plopped out into view.

"I've been having that same trouble for the last half hour," she sighed, 
"either this top has shrunk, or I'm getting bigger. I hope I'm not getting 
bigger, 'cos Miss Clit will be very cross. Won't she?"

"You can't be getting any bigger, Anastasia, surely." I didn't feel too 
confident about that. "Not that Clit will mind all that much. But it's 
probably just this vest thing getting stretched out of shape. Where did you 
get it?"

"It used to belong to my Dad; I borrowed it last time I was at home. It was 
way too big for me then. I'd better give it back to him."

"Unless he's been on a body-building course, darling, I wouldn't bother. 
The way you've stretched it, the poor thing will never be the same again, 
I'm afraid."

"Maybe I can find one of the Senior girls with smaller boobs than me," she 
said. "It must fit *somebody*. But you didn't say if you liked Toots, Miss. 
Do you?"

"I think she's sweet. How did she get on with the girls in your dorm?"

"Suze doesn't like her at all. And I think Pan's scared of her. But she got on 
well with Shona. Funny, she asked her about her milk."

"Her MILK?"

"She asked how much she gave each day, and if she was under contract to 
anyone, whatever that means. And she said she had the biggest tits she'd 
seen since her friend Candi had her second baby. Candi must be really 
huge, Miss, 'cos Shona's twice as big as me, even!"

So, I thought, young Toots was thinking of getting into the dairy business. 
I'd better not tell Smegs, not in her present mood. In fact, Toots had asked 
quite a few questions about milk. How many girls were milking, how much 
they gave. She'd even seemed on the verge of asking Corinne, which would 
have been really embarrassing.

All St Cat's needed, like a hole in the head, was yet another entrepreneur 
about the place. Give Toots a week or two and she'd be introducing a 
milking shed all over again. And what about panties? What about when 
she heard of the flourishing soiled panties market? But the major worry 
was the sex slaves business. With her contacts in other parts of the world, 
there would be every opportunity for Toots to expand her lucrative trade 
in human flesh.

"There was something else, Miss. She kept asking about the boys. 'Where 
are the boys?' I said there aren't any, St Cat's is for girls, but she laughed. 
She said there must be boys. I said some of the older girls have boys in 
their dorm sometimes, but not the Juniors, and she said 'why not?' Why 
not, Miss?"

"Well, it's a girls' school, Anastasia. Why would you want boys in the 
dorm?"

"I asked her that, and she said, 'for fucking, why else!' And I asked her if 
she'd ever done it, and she just laughed."

I held out my arms to Anastasia and held her while she looked up at me 
wonderingly.

"Darling, Toots has had a very disturbed childhood. She learned about 
things you can't learn in school, not even in St Cat's. And some nasty men 
did things to her that have made her a bit different. Her mother says she's 
getting better, but she still needs to meet lots and lots of boys all the time. 
It's the way she is."

"She asked where the nearest school with boys in it was. I told her it was 
miles away, towards the town. She said she'd take me over there in the car 
when she comes to St Cat's. Will she be able to have her car and her driver, 
Miss? He's hunky, Nigel. He gave me a big French kiss before they left, and 
he had his hand right down inside my top, underneath my boobs. It felt 
scary!"

"Anastasia! You let him do that to you?"

"I suppose that's how this top got so much out of shape, Miss, isn't it?"

"Anastasia! Answer the question. You let him do that?"

"Toots told him to. He didn't want to really, but she said, 'go on, Nigel, give 
Stazie a real big wet one, and give her tits a good feel-up as well'. So he 
did. I think he quite enjoyed it in the end, after I held his willie for him. 
Toots showed me how. It sort of twitched a bit, but I suppose that was 
because he wasn't used to girls holding his willie for him. Funny. It was a 
lot bigger than a courgette."

"Yes, I suppose it would be." I felt faint all of a sudden.

"Miss?" She took her glasses off, then leaned closer and I felt her soft 
breath on my lips. I could smell her fresh sweat. "When the Juniors get 
boys in their dorm, could I be allowed to have one in my room as well. I 
am a Junior, after all, Miss."

"We'll see!"

"Oooooh, Miss!" She showed me she had learned a thing or two from Toots's 
driver.


**********

"We're not having that little bitch at St Cat's," proclaimed Suzanne.

Surprisingly, Shona spoke up. "Why not, Suze? Just because she's a year 
younger than you, and she only comes up to your chin and she's a lot 
skinnier and she's got bigger tits?"

"She hasn't."

"She has. She came and talked to me. They're not as big as Anastasia's but 
they're still loads bigger than yours!"

"Well?" Suzanne shifted her attack. "When Cassandra joins next year, she'll 
be younger than you, and hers are loads bigger than yours. Twice as big. 
And she gives more milk!"

"I don't mind," said Shona mildly. "And if they're twice as big as mine, 
they're twenty times as big as yours!" To reinforce her point, Shona stood 
up, her gigantic milk-laden udders each at least two feet in diameter.

Suzanne turned over and lay face down on her bed. A brief burst of 
applause rang out.


**********

"Oh, excuse ME! I'll come back later, shall I?"

"Cee! You're back early!"

"It took me half an hour. You must have got carried away, the two of you."

I sat up on the bed. Anastasia, peering about her short-sightedly without 
her glasses, was struggling back into her misshapen singlet with a stupid 
grin on her face. She was flushed, pink spreading down her shoulders to 
the tops of her breasts. She tucked her nipples out of sight and tugged the 
shoulder straps back up. One breast immediately flopped out again and she 
sighed theatrically.

Corinne put the hamper down in a marked manner. "Help yourselves," she 
said bitterly. "No doubt you've both worked up an appetite."

"Anastasia was asking me some questions."

"I'm sure you gave her all the answers."

"We only had a little kiss. Anastasia was feeling lonely."

"Shan, you don't need to explain. It's all right."

"Anastasia, darling," I said gently, "why don't you find something more 
comfortable to wear while we get the picnic hamper ready. It's all right, 
we won't start without you ...!" She shot out of the room.

"No, Shan!" Corinne shrugged me off. "Don't bother saying anything at all. 
You're a teacher, Anastasia's eleven years old, you were rolling on the bed, 
snogging with her. If you were a man, you'd be locked up in jail and they'd 
throw away the key."

"And quite right, too. She was only saying thank you, Cee. I think I may 
have promised her a boy for her bedroom when Toots arrives."

"You what?"

"Toots was asking about boys. She wants to have boys allowed in the 
Junior dorms as well as the Seniors. Quite reasonable. She could probably 
sue the school if we tried to deny her the right to have the use of boys."

"So you've promised Anastasia a boy in her room as well? Are you crazy, 
or what? If she can twist you round her little finger just by flashing her 
tits at you, she'll have that room full of boys before the end of the week."

"What a lovely thought! I wonder if she'll have a few spares?"

Where had Corinne gone? Anastasia came out of her bedroom dressed 
more comfortably. Perhaps it was just as well that Corinne had stormed 
out. Anastasia may have been more comfortable, but she was scarcely 
dressed appropriately for a picnic on the bed with her teacher.

"That's a nice top, Anastasia, I haven't seen that one before."

"It's not too small, is it, Miss?" She ran her little hands down the mighty 
swooping curves of her breasts. They reached the nipples, then 
encountered bare flesh. The top was supposed to be one of those stretchy 
ones that cover the breasts then hang provocatively straight down from 
there. In Anastasia's case, the thing was so overloaded, it came down only 
as far as the nipples. The lower halves of her areolae were revealed, 
startlingly plump and puffy. Dark pink, they were almost four inches 
across.

I peered at her from between my fingers. "I suppose it is a bit too small, 
yes. Look, darling, I think it looks fine on you, but just in case Miss 
Meadowlark comes back, how about finding something else a little less 
revealing?"

"Oh, all right," she pouted. "Where's Miss Meadowlark gone anyway?"

"She's upset. Probably because she found us kissing. She'll be back."

"Pity. We'll have to leave something for her. And I'm starving!"

Anastasia disappeared into her bedroom again. She was a long time coming 
back. In the end, I went looking for her. She was sitting on her bed 
surrounded by clothes, mostly shirts and sweaters. She looked up over her 
shoulder as I came in.

"Nothing fits, Miss. This is ridiculous!"

"That T-shirt you're wearing is big enough, isn't it?"

"What, this?" She turned round to show me.

"Ah, I see. Look, come back in and try some of my things. I may have 
something you can have."

She squeaked in excitement and followed me. I scrabbled about in my half 
of the wardrobe and found a blue denim shirt. "Try that," I said, and tossed 
it to her. She was wearing only her panties and I had to look away. The 
sight was far too disturbing. She climbed into the shirt and fastened the 
buttons. It fitted where it touched, which was mostly across the mounds of 
her breasts. Oh, shit, I thought, she is definitely still growing.

"Do I look all right in this?" she asked, knowing full well that she looked 
incredible.

"It will do for now, you can try something else after we've eaten."

Boys in Junior bedrooms were not going to be a good idea at all, I realised.


**********

"Where is she?" Corinne paused just inside the door.

"She's gone to bed. Poor kid was tired out. We've left you something to 
eat."

Corinne sat on the edge of the bed, her head bowed. "I had something 
while I was out."

I didn't ask her where she'd been, but she had a jacket thrown over her 
shoulders, and her jeans, which she had been wearing earlier. She smelled 
slightly of smoke and beer, so I assumed she'd been to the pub. She sat 
quietly for a while, then shrugged the jacket off and dropped it on the rug.

"Cee, I'm sorry about earlier. It was stupid of me."

I touched her hand and she didn't pull away. Finally, she turned to me and 
gave me a tired little smile.

"Not stupid. You were just being Shannie. A little girl flashes her gigantic 
tits at you, you are going to snog her. You're made that way, I'm glad to 
say!" and she pulled me closer. I fell over on the bed and she stroked my 
hair. "I'm tired, too. I've done nothing, but I feel as if I've run a marathon."

"Did you walk far?"

"No. I caught the bus to the first village. Just a quiet little pub, half a dozen 
locals in there."

"I bet they'd never seen anything like you!"

"They were all pretending not to look!" Corinne giggled suddenly. "There 
were a couple of young blokes in there with their girlfriends. Quite big 
girls." She described them with her hands. "The boys couldn't keep their 
eyes off me. They lasted about two minutes before the girls dragged them 
out."

Corinne raised the lid of the hamper and poked around inside. She took out 
a chicken leg and a hunk of French bread and waded into them as if she 
was famished. I gently rubbed her shoulder with my hand and she bent 
her head to the side to brush it with her lips. Over her head, I saw the door 
to Anastasia's room open a few inches and the girl peeped out.

She looked at Corinne, showing relief that she was back. She nodded 
slightly and grinned, then the door closed quietly but firmly behind her.

"I hope you're thirsty, Shannie," said Corinne with a twinkle in her eye. 
"I'm rather full tonight."

"Well, since you mention it, I am a little dry!"

Corinne spluttered. "You, Shannie? Dry? Never!" 

She began to unbutton her shirt, what seemed like dozens of tiny buttons. 
I watched, fascinated, my throat swelling with lust as more and more 
luscious flesh was revealed.

"Come on, then. Let's see how dry you really are. And let's see how wet we 
can make you!"





Part XXIII





Chapter 67:- A Role For Rumiko


"This will be a very brief meeting this morning," smiled Moggie. She had 
obviously had a good weekend. Some Mondays, she came back to St Cat's 
like a bear with a sore head: this morning, she had a well-fucked look to 
her. She was even sitting in her chair carefully, as if things were painful. I 
wondered how Professor Garibaldi was feeling this morning. Professor 
Garibaldi was the head teacher of the nearest boys' school, Lord Edward's 
Grammar School, a dozen miles away as the crow flew.

"Did you have a good weekend, Miss Thunderbolt?" Smegs asked her 
waspishly.

"Yes, thank you, Megan." Moggie looked at her without malice. "Professor 
Garibaldi and I had a number of matters of mutual interest which needed 
a good airing. We discovered much common ground. I hope to be able to 
forge new links between St Cat's and Lord Edward's in the near future."

I bet she did.

So would Toots, I thought.

"As I say, just a short meeting today. A quickie." A dreamy expression 
came over her face as she said that last word. It made me feel slightly ill. 
The woman was far too old to behave the way she was carrying on. 
Continuous sex every weekend was not good for a woman approaching the 
change. I bet it was even less good for her partners.

"Now, then." She consulted a list of items. I craned my neck to see if my 
name was on it. Moggie cupped her hand around the paper. "Miss Rhys ap 
Llewelyn Owen. I happened to hear the St Cat's Chorus at rehearsals last 
week. Something seemed to be lacking. I think we need tenors and basses."

There was a sharp intake of breath. Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen 
stammered, "I have already recruited all the girls with the deepest voices 
in the school, Miss Thunderbolt. Many of them have moustaches and 
extremely short hair."

"They don't have cocks, though, do they, Gwladys?" Moggie said sweetly. "I 
want you to contact this number ..." she tore a corner off her piece of paper 
and slid it across to Corinne, who glanced at it with raised eyebrows and 
passed it to Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen "... and speak to the choirmaster, 
Mr Eifion Gruffydd Lloyd-Jones. You will find you have much in common, I 
am sure."

Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen looked panic-stricken. "But Miss Thunderbolt, 
a MIXED choir? Surely not. We can't have *boys* coming here!" She almost 
spat the word 'boys'.

"I've thought about that," said Moggie. "We will need to phase in these 
things gradually. In the early stages, we can meet on neutral ground, 
neither here nor at Lord Edward's. Insignificant detail. Just get on with it."

Moggie waved away Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen's protests. I was 
horrified. The St Cat's Chorus consisted of thirty of the most unreservedly 
horny girls in the school. It boasted an average bust measurement in 
excess of seventy inches. Closer links with a bunch of adolescent boys with 
newly broken voices would lead to inevitable consequences entirely 
beyond anyone's control. Our girls would make mincemeat of them.

Three girls had successfully achieved pregnancy as a result of their 
activities on the St Cat's Chorus Grand Tour, and they had been quietly 
replaced with hand-picked non-virgins. The policy of St Cat's on pregnancy 
was not to ignore it but to maintain a low profile. All pregnant girls at St 
Cat's were allowed to dress in such a way that they looked like ordinary 
girls with extremely large breasts. They were thus able to keep their 
condition a secret right up until the time they gave birth. A small but well-
equipped nursery looked after the babies and the mothers quietly got on 
with being schoolgirls. This was a facility which the school chose not to 
publicise in its publicity literature, although any parents making direct 
enquiries would be told the truth and reassured.

Visitors to the school occasionally caught a glimpse of an undeniably 
pregnant girl, or one of the school nannies exercising a group of the babies 
and toddlers. In response to potentially embarrassing questions, our 
unswerving policy was always to tell the truth. In a school with something 
like two hundred and thirty girls, a proportion of pregnant ones was 
inevitable. At any time, the number was between twenty and forty, 
depending on the season, and the degree of pregnancy varied from two to 
nine months.

But I digress. I get so carried away sometimes.

Moggie was addressing Corinne. "I have authorised the construction of 
wheelbarrow parking racks outside all classrooms. There will be a 
purpose-built wheelbarrow shed and repair facilities. Any girls who have 
been put off having larger breasts because of our lack of wheelbarrow-
awareness may now be encouraged to grow freely and express 
themselves"

Corinne nodded enthusiastically and made a note in her notebook.

"And talking of expressing themselves: Chauntaille, I would like you to 
compile a register of lactating girls. Full details, please, age, weight, 
measurements - get the Junior Statistics Group to help you - milk yield, all 
the usual stuff ..."

"Me, Miss Thunderbolt?" I was aghast. "Why me? Surely Miss Meadowlark 
would be more suitable. After all, she is lactating herself ..."

Corinne confirmed this fact by suddenly sitting upright in her chair and 
cursing fluently. She plucked the front of her blouse away from the tip of 
her breast, but too late. A spreading patch of milk was already soaking the 
material into exciting transparency. For me, this was one of the joys of the 
FreeTips ScatBra.

We all gathered round and watched. Even Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen 
seemed fascinated, although Corinne's moans as she became increasingly 
aroused and orgasmic seemed to embarrass the choir mistress and she 
clapped her hands over her sensitive ears.

"That's why I chose you, Chauntaille," said Moggie, raising her voice to be 
heard, "Corinne is too close to the problem. Now, I don't want a St Cat's 
Dairy, but I do have an idea we are wasting a great deal of valuable girl-
milk. I need an indication of the scale of the problem. Is it five gallons a 
day, or five hundred?"

"But I don't even like milk," I muttered.

"Huh!" said Corinne. "You seemed to enjoy it well enough last night!"

"That was different," I said, weakly.

Moggie looked interested, but pulled herself together with an effort. 
"Statistics," she went on. "The bra returns show me that Anastasia applied 
to the bra manufactory for a new garment on Saturday morning. Is she 
still getting bigger, Chauntaille?"

"I haven't checked, Miss, but she seems to be growing still, yes."

"Good. Keep an eye on it. And there was a cash sale on Saturday, a Miss T 
Lashmore. Is this girl a student?"

"Not yet, Miss. She joins the First Form in September."

"Does she? My God!" Moggie's eyebrows went into orbit as she studied 
Toots's measurements as supplied by Clit and Flaps. "Is this a mistake, this 
number?" She showed me the paper.

"No, that's right."

"Fucking Hell," murmured Moggie. Things are certainly looking up. I'd 
better start planning an extension to the wheelbarrow sheds." She moved 
on reluctantly. "Last item. Megan. Panties!"

Smegs went pale. "What about them?"

"They are taking up an increasing amount of your valuable and expensive 
time. I need to take them away from you."

"But, Miss ...!"

"Don't worry, you will still be in overall charge of the soiled panties 
operation. You will just not be doing the hands-on work. You will delegate 
that to a team which will take over collection, sorting, quality control and 
despatch."

"But, that's the best part of it, Miss. You can't trust other people to sort 
panties, Miss. It takes special expertise."

"I'm sure you will be able to find a suitable team leader, Megan. If you 
can't, I will appoint someone myself. The choice is yours, Megan. I will be 
scrupulously fair. You can have three days. By the way, I would suggest 
young Rumiko. She is a born organiser, the Martial Arts Organisation is 
now running smoothly, and she has knowledge of Japan, our chief 
customer. If you like, we could send for her now and appoint her team 
leader."

"But, Miss ...!"

Poor Smegs had crumpled visibly. Did Moggie have no idea what effect this 
would have on the poor girl. She lived for her soiled panties. Probably four 
days of her week were spent in sorting, sniffing and generally handling the 
intimate garments of the girls of St Catherine's High School for Girls. This 
would break her.

Without thinking, I threw an arm round Smegs's shoulders and she turned 
her face into my cleavage and dissolved into floods of tears.

"Now look what you've done," I said to a startled Moggie. 

"It's for the best," she shouted over Smegs's howls. "I can't ask a senior 
member of my teaching staff to sort girls underwear."

"You don't need to ask her. She loves doing it."

I held Smegs even closer, and Corinne got up and came round to help, 
unbuttoning her shirt.

"Here, Shan, let her have some of this!" She offered a giant breast to Smegs 
who took her face out of my chest and sniffed the air for a moment before 
gratefully latching on to Corinne's engorged nipple. It took a few seconds, 
then with Corinne perched herself on my lap, Smegs fell into a smooth, 
rhythmic sucking.

I looked at them fondly and with deep love and affection. Smegs's eyes 
were shut, tears drying on her cheeks. Corinne gazed down at her with a 
little private smile, and I could already feel the wetness of her arousal 
through my skirt. My arms went around both of them. At moments like 
this, I wished I could give milk myself.


**********

Corinne fed Smegs twice more during the day, and was still doing it when 
Rumiko presented herself at our door early in the evening.

She bowed politely. "Ah, Miss Mountain thirsty. Excerrent! Carry on, Miss 
Meadowrarko."

"Thank you, Rumiko," said Corinne. "Excuse me if I don't get up, but Miss 
Mountains will only be a few more minutes. Perhaps you wouldn't mind 
waiting?"

"No, Miss. Don' stop. Miss Mountain rooking happy."

"Yes, she's happy," I said. "For the moment."

Smegs let go of Corinne's nipple and sat up, looking round at us. She began 
to cry. Corinne took her in her arms and held her for some time, then she 
gently detached herself, and laid Smegs over her shoulder, rubbing her 
back softly.

In a few moments, we were rewarded by a satisfying belch. Rumiko and I 
both said "Aaaaah" in chorus. "There's a good girl, Megan," said Corinne. 
"Once more ...?" Smegs did it again, and sat up.

"Thanks, Cee," she said. "Hi, Rumiko."

"Hi, Miss Mountain. You ready to do panties with me?"

Tears came to Smegs's eyes again, but she was brave. She got up, giving 
another small burp.

"Do you want me to come with you, Smegs?" I asked her.

"No thank you, Shan. This is something I must do myself. Come on, Rumi."

They left.

"Poor thing," said Corinne, putting her breasts away. It made me feel sad. 
"You can have yours at bedtime, darling," she said, touching my nose with 
her finger. "Those knickers mean so much to Megan."

"Moggie can be very heartless. Mind you, her room does stink with those 
sacks in there all the time."

"It's a tremendous money-spinner, though, Shan. I bet those panties have 
brought in more money than even the dairy used to. And it's all free. The 
girls are a self-sustaining source of nastiness. A bottomless supply, you 
might say."

"Perhaps not quite the right word, but I know what you mean. And 
Rumiko will make a great job of it. But poor Smegs. We need to think of 
something else to replace panties for Smegs. Something to fill an aching 
void in her life."

"A boyfriend, you mean?" Corinne wrinkled her nose with distaste.

"I don't know if one boyfriend would be enough to keep Smegs satisfied. 
Even one girlfriend isn't enough: she needs them half a dozen at a time. But 
she needs somebody, certainly."

"I wonder ... how about the Lord Edward's Choir?"

I stared at Corinne. "For Smegs? A bit young, aren't they? She'd prefer 
something a little more mature."

"But there are enough of them. Surely, one mature boyfriend is about 
equivalent to thirty acne-ridden choristers with recently-descended 
testicles."

"It would depend on what Smegs was intending to do with them. And how 
would you propose to arrange for Smegs to meet this testosterone farm?"

"Easy. Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen isn't at all keen on her precious girls of 
the St Cat's Chorus getting tainted by all those hairy-arsed Lord Ted's boys. 
Why not suggest that Smegs acts as a go-between. A liaison officer. A 
negotiator. She might even fancy this what's-his-name, Mr Eifion Gruffydd 
Lloyd-Jones?"

"Smeggy with a Welshman? That would be a laugh. I wonder what he's 
like. One of those little five-foot tall ones covered from head to foot with 
black hair?"

Corinne shuddered. "It needn't matter. She could always do it with the 
lights out. And she'd have her pick of the choirboys. There would be Sixth 
Formers in the Lord Ted's Choir. Some of those would be nearly as old as 
she is."

"With an emotional age of twelve."

"Shan, ALL males have an emotional age of twelve."

"You must have been just plain lucky then, that's all I can say."


**********

Suzanne pushed away her dinner plate and chewed a thumbnail. "Pan? 
Have you heard from your Mum lately?"

"What about?"

"You know! About what I told my Mum about. Us getting bigger!"

"Suze! No! Surely you can't be serious about that. I thought you'd forgotten 
the stupid idea."

"Why should I forget? The situation is getting serious. We used to be the 
two biggest busts in the Juniors. Now Shona's miles bigger than us ..."

"Shona's fat, she doesn't count ..."

"And those two in the Seconds are bigger than you, and getting close to my 
size, Elphinstone and Ng. And next year, Cassandra will be starting, and 
she's bigger than anyone in the world. And that Toots girl..."

"You haven't mentioned Anastasia, Suze!"

Suzanne gritted her teeth. "Don't mention that little cow!"

Pansy sat next to her cousin and stroked her hair. "All right, I won't 
mention her again. But you can't be serious about using chemicals to grow 
yourself. Or both of us. Anything might happen!"

"But I'm tiny, compared to the others. I want to be biggest again!"

"Suze. Please promise you won't do anything silly. You might have another 
growth spurt. Just think, you might wake up in the morning and find 
you're bigger than Anastasia again!"

"I told you not to mention that fucking cow!"

"Sorry!" Pansy suddenly looked up with a distracted expression. "Oh, God, 
look!"

"What's the matter, Pan? Oh, look, it's your girlfriend."

"She's not. Oh, shit, she's coming over here. Good afternoon, Miss 
Meadowlark." 

"Hi, Pansy, Suzanne! Mind if I join you for a moment?"

Pansy blushed crimson and pulled out a chair for Corinne to sit down at 
the table. It felt as if the entire school was watching.

"There was something I wanted to ask you both. It's a secret, though. Can I 
trust you not to tell a soul?"

"Of course, Miss!" Suzanne propped her elbows on the table and stared at 
the teacher, all ears. Pansy was still bright red and gnawing on her 
knuckles. She felt a chilly moistness in her panties, and wondered what 
Miss Meadowlark was going to ask. 

"It's two things, actually." Corinne looked from one girl to the other. "One is 
milk."

"MILK?" The cousins responded together.

"Milk. Have you done any research into what causes some of your victims 
... your girls ... to start giving milk? With a view to stopping it? Shona, for 
instance. She gives enormous quantities of milk. Have you ever asked her 
if she would be happier if she dried up?"

The girls looked at each other.

"No, of course not," said Suzanne in some astonishment.

"Do you think you might look into it for me? Don't tell anyone, of course. 
But as you know, I'm giving milk ever since I grew the last time, and it can 
be inconvenient and embarrassing in public. I'd like to stop if I could. And 
so might Shona!"

"Doesn't Miss Gruntworthy like to drink it, though, Miss?" Pansy was still 
very pink and damp, but she had recovered enough to ask a question or 
two.

Corinne blushed herself. "She does, yes," she admitted, "but it would be a 
minor inconvenience for her if she had to use cows' milk again. You will 
think about it, won't you? Please?"

"Yes, Miss," the girls nodded as Miss Meadowlark got up to leave.

"Oh, the other thing. Was there any FatLite left over after that last batch? 
Remember when Anastasia got huge ..." Suzanne growled dangerously "... 
and those Second Formers grew as well?"

The girls remembered only too well.

"Oh, yes, Miss. We can get you plenty of that. Did you want some?"

"If possible, yes please."

"No problem," grinned Suzanne. "We'll bring it to your bedroom after 
school tonight."

"No!" Corinne said quickly. "Can you arrange to leave it somewhere and I 
can pick it up? I don't want everyone knowing about it."

"That's fine, Miss," purred Suzanne. "Your secret is safe with us!"





Chapter 68:- Research And Development


"Ah, Jus' Pray Miss? I tock to you?" I was just finishing my lunch.

"Of course you can talk to me Rumiko. Any time. What's the problem?"

"No probrem, Miss. But Miss Mountain she terru me to correct panties from 
Orr St Cat's."

"I think what you're telling me is that Miss Mountains has told you to 
collect panties from all the girls at St Cat's?"

"That's what I said, Miss."

It was encouraging to see that Smegs had seen the light and delegated this 
task. Mundane jobs like pantie collection, sniffing and sorting were no part 
of a teacher's brief, if that's the word I'm looking for. "What's this, 
Rumiko?"

She was opening out a huge sheet of paper, completely covered with tiny 
sketches, immaculately drawn and captioned in meticulous hand lettering. 
I studied it for several minutes while Rumiko moved slowly around the 
nearby tables, tidying up as she went.

"It's no use, Rumiko. What is it?"

"Is correction system for panties, Miss. Here. Prastic bins, rike retterbox. 
Different corror. Red, green, orange ..."

"Yes, I see that. How does it work?"

Rumiko explained everything in minute detail. I was left feeling no wiser, 
but marginally better informed. I had no idea why Rumiko had singled me 
out to hear about the details of her collection system, unless she simply 
wanted to bounce her ideas off someone.

I now understood that Rumiko had arranged for these plastic bins, with 
slots like letterboxes to be erected at half a dozen strategic sites around 
the school. They would be in groups of six bins, each of a different colour. 
The girls would be issued with panties in corresponding colours, and as 
soon as a girl had sufficiently soiled her underwear, she would post it in 
the appropriate slot.

Simple, no more sorting.

Wait a minute, I had told her. We don't sort panties according to their 
colour, we sort them according to the type of stains.

No problem, she assured me. Computer.

That dreaded word. And then the full horror of Rumiko's scheme was 
revealed to me. Every girl in the school would be asked to attach a label 
bearing her name to each pair of soiled panties she handed in for the next 
week. These would be sorted by hand, the last of the traditional hand-
sorted panties. Smegs herself would lead the sorting team. Rumiko would 
note details of the type of stains produced by each girl, and enter them 
into the computer.

The computer would then classify the girls according to their regular 
soiling habits, and allocate each girl to one of six groups. Each group would 
receive panties of a different colour, and post them in the boxes, which 
would be unloaded straight into cartons for shipping.

"Save sorting. Save money!"

How had the blindingly obvious flaw in this plan escaped Rumiko's 
attention? It was so obvious I hesitated to point it out to her.

"Two things," I said. "What if girls produce different stains on different 
occasions?" I pointed out that stains were the result of outside forces, 
largely beyond the girls' control. If, as she had told me, a Type 'A' girl 
suddenly produced a Type 'C' stain, what would happen to the system?

"No!" She shook her head firmly. "Produce one type stain, always produce 
one type stain. Orraways! No change!" Her hand slammed down, its edge 
contacting the tabel firmly. A small pile of plates was snapped clean in half 
by the impact of the blow. "Hai!" Rumiko shouted, rather as an 
afterthought.

That was that, then. Once this week was over, a girl was forever classified 
as a dribbler, or a gusher, or a negligent user of toilet tissue, or a 
combination of any two of those three. No changing was permitted. 
Presumably, any girl found transgressing would be expected to commit 
ritual suicide by evisceration in the centre of the quadrangle.

I remembered my other point. "What about Type 'D' stains?" I said.

"No! Take more care! No Type 'D'! Too many differen' corrour!"

One could see her point. The introduction of a fourth type of stain, with all 
its attendant permutations, would require a vast increase in the number of 
colours of panties and plastic bins. The girls would have to conform to the 
system or face the consequences.

But the loss of Type 'D' was going to upset some of our most loyal 
customers. I resolved to take the matter up with Smegs as soon as possible. 
Apart from anything else, my own used panties defied such classification. 
At that very moment, I vowed to change to silk and join Clit's rival scheme, 
along with Corinne. True, the constant intimate contact of my nether 
regions with silk panties would make me virtually insatiable, but that 
wouldn't be the end of the world, after all.

Would it?


**********

Smegs seemed excited about something. She was supervising the sorting of 
a whole week's output of underwear. A small team of Second Form girls 
was helping her. I recognised some of their faces. Well, not their faces so 
much. These were the girls who had been involved in the recent FatLite 
and SuperLite trials. I recognised them by their exuberant breasts. Having 
started from a much lower base than Anastasia, they had developed to a 
much lesser extent, but there wasn't one of them who didn't need a 
ScatBra.

Not that they were wearing them. Smegs's rules required her assistants to 
be naked. The team was a disturbing sight as it went quietly about its 
duties. Rumiko herself, looking simply magnificent without a stitch of 
clothing, was sitting cross-legged on the dressing table with a small 
computer balanced on her knees. For the first time, I realised she wore 
glasses. From time to time, one of the younger girls brought her a piece of 
paper and she would enter more data into the machine.

Smegs, as supervisor, had chosen to be the final judge in difficult cases. A 
huge and growing pile of knickers was beside her on the bed, and she 
slowly sifted through them, fondling, gently sniffing and occasionally 
tasting with the tip of a pink tongue. Smegs was enjoying her work. As she 
classified each pair, a girl would pass the information to Rumiko, but it was 
noticeable that many panties went straight back on to the pile again. Even 
in the five minutes I had been in the room, the pile of unclassified 
undergarments had almost doubled in size.

Smegs patted the bed beside her, and I sat down. I was going to have one 
of my headaches. Panties always had that effect on me, especially in such 
vast quantities.

"A funny thing, Shan," she said, not breaking off from her routine. "Miss 
Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen came and saw me. She hardly ever says anything 
to me from one day to the next usually, but yesterday she came in and 
asked if I wanted to be negotiator with Lord Ted's School Choir."

"What did you say to her?"

Smegs plucked an oddly heavy pair of knickers from the pile and raised it 
to her nose. A smile came to her face, the sort of involuntary smile you 
normally get when you sniff a ripe nectarine. "Whose do you think?" She 
offered them to me. There was actually steam rising from them!

I hadn't a clue. "Toria's?" I guessed.

"Hey, you're improving! You got it in one." She snatched them back from 
me and inhaled deeply, her eyes watering. "Bloody hell! What does that 
girl get up to?" She carefully placed them back on the incoming pile.

"What about the choir job?"

"Yes. I said I would do it. It's a chance to meet some boys, and probably 
some teachers, too. You never know, there might be something worth 
having over there. I'm going over there tomorrow evening. Sit in on a choir 
rehearsal, meet the lads, maybe fuck one or two ... and back for breakfast 
... that's the life, Shannie!" She took Victoria's knickers off the heap again 
as if she couldn't really believe them.

"What do you think of this system, Smegs? Only six colours?"

"Should be a good one. It will speed things up no end."

"What about the idea of classifying girls once and for all, though?"

"No problem. I've introduced an extra letterbox at each collection station. A 
big grey one twice the size of the others. If a girl thinks her panties don't 
quite fit her category, she can post hers in the grey box and they will be 
hand-sorted. Or nose sorted. That's where I come in. The beauty of it is 
that I don't get to sniff all the boring ones. The only knickers that get into 
the grey boxes are the really interesting ones. And the girls who produce 
those - the creative types, the free spirits - are always going to use the 
grey boxes. Well, *you* will, won't you?"

"I suppose so, yes!"


**********

"Here you are, Pan. Under this tree, where she said."

Pansy lugged the two full tubs and slid them into the undergrowth. Each 
was clearly labelled, 'FatLite' and 'SuperLite'. "They're bloody heavy, Suze. 
Why did I have to carry them both?"

"You're always moaning. Someone had to check to see that nobody was 
watching. You'd have come blundering out here and anyone could have 
pinched the stuff as soon as we hid it."

"Miss Meadowlark will never be able to carry both of those, Suze. In fact, 
with her boobs, she won't even be able to see them under there."

"Oh, leave it out. It's where she told us to hide them. She'll be all right. I 
wonder who she wants them for. I didn't think old Titlark was bothered 
about making girls bigger."

"Maybe it's a birthday surprise for Miss Gruntworthy," suggested Pansy.

"Or Miss Mountains. A nice pair of three metre tits might cheer her up, the 
miserable sow." Suzanne prised the lid off one of the tubs and dipped a 
finger into the soft cream. "Want some, Pan?" she suddenly thrust her 
finger towards her cousin's chest.

"Don't you dare," Pansy screamed, and staggered back. 

"It won't hurt you!" Suzanne laughed. "It doesn't work on its own. You 
could rub the whole tub into your tits and they'd stay the same size. Look!" 
She took a whole handful and slapped it against Pansy's shirt.

Pansy began to sob.

"Look what you've done. Anything might happen now. Look, it's soaking 
into the material. It feels all wet. My boobs are all wet with it."

"Oh, stop bitching!" Suzanne was bored with her cousin's whining. "Let's get 
back to the dorm. You can change your shirt and we'll see how much 
you've grown in five minutes."

"You promised you'd never mess about with Sexual Chemistry," sobbed 
Pansy. "You know how dangerous this stuff is, especially if you've got big 
tits to start with."

Suzanne took her by the hand. "Sorry, cousin. Come on, let's go back. It's 
starting to get cold out here."

Corinne watched them go, then slipped out from behind the shelter of the 
caretaker's shed and looked round in all directions. Then she approached 
the bushes and dragged the first tub out into the open. She was surprised 
to find the lid was lying loosely on top of the tub. She reached into the 
bushes again and found the second one. That was securely sealed.

Must be this one, she thought. The girls wouldn't have left the top off a tub 
of FatLite. The other one must have been some old stuff they had lying 
around. There appeared to be no more tubs in the undergrowth, although 
she saw two sticky labels on the ground. One bore the word 'FatLite'. The 
other was upside down.

Corinne took another quick look round the deserted shrubbery, then 
straightened up and set off back to the staff domestic quarters. By the time 
she reached the top of the stairs, the weight of the tub banging against her 
leg had raised quite a sizeable bruise.

With relief, she opened the wardrobe door and laid her burden down. She 
carefully covered it with two pairs of shoes and an old sweater, then, 
breathing heavily, she lay down on the bed.


**********

"Which tub was this stuff, Suze?" Pansy inspected the spreading stain on 
her blouse, then tossed it on the floor. "It's made a mess of my blouse, look. 
And it soaked right through to my boobs!"

"You should wear a bra, then it wouldn't have got near your boobs."

"I never wear a bra in the evenings. Nor do you!"

What's that got to do with it? I take mine off so I can feel them bounce 
when I walk. Yours hardly bounce at all, shrimp!"

"Mine are sixty-four inches, Suzanne! That's not 'shrimp' in anyone's book!"

"It is in mine," Suzanne muttered.

"Which stuff was it, anyway? I want to know if it's going to make my tits 
get bigger."

"I don't know which one it was," Suzanne admitted finally.

"You don't know ...? But I could finish up enormous!"

"No you won't. All that could happen is that your tits could get lighter. 
They won't get any bigger unless you rub the other stuff on top. You'll be 
all right anyway. There wasn't enough there to make any difference. Stop 
worrying!"

"It's all very well for you to say that. I feel funny. All sort of tingly."

"Where, in your nipples?" Suzanne sat up and looked across with interest 
at her topless cousin who was examining her twin peaks with a scared 
expression.

"No, in my ... you know ... down here." Pansy pointed down between her 
legs.

"Golly! Lucky you!" Suzanne grinned at her. "Well, before you start playing 
with yourself, you've got to give me some of that Shona-milk."

"What Shona-milk?"

"The stuff you got from Shona to make the FatLite this afternoon." Suzanne 
looked suddenly disgusted. "Oh, come on, Pan, you didn't drink it all? You 
only needed half a pint for the FatLite!"

Pansy blushed. "I didn't get any from Shona. She said she hadn't got any 
left. I think she was being awkward on purpose. You should have asked 
her yourself."

"Fat lot of good that would have been," said Suzanne. "She wouldn't give 
me anything, the cowbag. She's not even speaking to me. That's why I told 
you to get it."

"Well, there isn't any. I used cow's milk, from the common room jug."

"Oh, great. You really screwed up. How many times have I told you not to 
change the formula of these things? Cow's milk! There could be anything in 
there. It's supposed to be pure milk, straight from the girl!"

"Well I used cow." Pansy sat and pouted. "And sugar."

"You put sugar in it as well? Why?"

"Shona-milk is sweeter than cow. So I put half a cup of sugar in the FatLite 
to make up for it. It will be all right."

"You hope so. Anything might happen to your Miss Titlark as a result of 
your negligence, you realise? The poor woman might explode. And it will 
all be your fault, Pansy!"

Pansy began to cry again.

"Oh, shut up blubbing, for Chrissakes. You'll have to get some milk from 
Shona anyway. We need it for Miss Meadowlark's experiment, to see if we 
can turn her milk off. So you'd better see Shona before she goes to bed. 
Now! I'm going to the bogs to wash my hair and everything." 

Pansy reluctantly climbed off the bed and made her way to Shona's bed, 
her boobs wobbling. They did feel tingly, although she hadn't dared 
mention that to Suzanne.

"Sho?"

Shona peered over her book and glared at Pansy coldly.

"What do you want?"

"I wondered if I could have a little bit of milk, please. We've run out."

"No!"

"Oh, please, Sho! It's only for me. Not for Suze."

"I don't care if it's for the Queen of the Fairies. You're not having any."

Pansy stood glumly by Shona's bed, tears still trickling down her cheeks. 
She sniffed loudly.

"What's the matter this time?" Shona put her book down on the bed.

"It's not for us, Sho. It's for Miss Meadowlark. She asked us if we could 
make anything that would stop her giving so much milk. That's why we 
need some milk from you, to analyse it."

"Would it work for me, too?"

"It might. It probably would."

"How much do you need?"

"Only a few drops. A test tube full."

"Come on then. Where's your test tube?" Shona heaved one enormous 
udder out of her nightshirt and presented the nipple to Pansy. A droplet of 
milk was already forming. As Pansy watched, it trickled down the vast, 
bloated surface of the girl's mammoth breast. Pansy licked her lips, then 
without realising what she was doing, she ducked her head and began to 
slurp hugely on Shona's champagne cork-sized nipple. It tasted incredible.

"Oooh, Shona, Shona, Shona," she cried, gasping for air and slopping 
mouthfuls of milk in all directions. "Feed me, darling, fill me with your 
sweet milk! I love you, Shonaaaaaaa!"

And Pansy hurled herself on to the bed mauling Shona's huge body with 
both hands. Shona was only human. Starved of affection, she felt Pansy's 
mouth on her nipple and her warm body pressed against her; their breasts 
squashing together like mating dirigibles. She held Pansy tenderly to her, 
moaning and crooning comfortingly in the smaller girl's small and perfectly 
formed ear.

"Pansy, sweet Pansy. Drink Shona's milk, my love! Drink until you burst!"

Other girls, attracted by the noise and the arousing scene, gathered round 
Shona's bed. They were in plenty of time to see the big girl's face contort in 
ecstasy as she came tumultuously, more or less the same time as Pansy 
did. Moans came from the other girls as they sought their own glistening 
wetness with their eager fingers. The more broadminded ones sought the 
glistening wetness of the girl next to them. Within minutes, every one of 
the girls was writhing on the floor around Shona's creaking bed, where 
Pansy and her luxuriantly lactating lover lay locked in lusty embrace. 
Every girl in the First Form dormitory, except Suzanne. She was otherwise 
engaged.





Chapter 69:- All Will Be Revealed


"Well, lover girl? Did you get the milk?" Suzanne hissed fiercely at her 
cousin.

"Not exactly. I sort of got carried away and drank it all."

"All of it? You pig. There are gallons of the stuff in there."

"I know. I still feel full up now." Pansy's eyes went misty. "We had a great 
night, Suze. Shona's pretty good!"

"Oh, she's pretty good, is she? Well, you should know. You were making 
enough noise to wake the whole school. All night long. None of us got any 
sleep. How many of you were in that bed?"

"Four," admitted Pansy. "Well, five. Six some of the time, but mostly just 
the five of us. Until Concita was sick."

"Oh, yuck. You are really gross, you know that? And you didn't even get 
the milk you went for."

"I got it all right. I just got carried away. As soon as Shona lobbed her tits 
out and I saw those enormous nipples of hers. I can only just get one of 
those in my mouth. I simply had to make love to her. I think we might get 
married and settle down when we're old enough."

Suzanne stared at her cousin with amazement. She shook her head slowly.

"It must have been that stuff on my boobs. It made me see the light, and I 
saw I loved Shona."

"It made you horny."

"No, I love her. And she loves me. She said so, over and over again."

"I heard her, the bloody moo! Over and over again. So we know what was 
in that tub, anyway. Love. Or lust. Miss Meadowlark is going to get the 
shock of her life when she rubs that stuff on Miss Gruntworthy."

"Oh, Suze, you think she's going to? We've got to stop them."

Suzanne looked thoughtful. "We'd better not. She might not want it for 
Miss Gruntworthy at all. It might be for something else. No, let's just keep 
quiet about it. The Uncontrollable Horniness might evaporate if she doesn't 
use it for a few days. It was only because you used cow's milk and sugar 
instead of Shona-milk."

Pansy began to groan.

"What's the matter?"

"You mentioned Shona's name. You said Shona-milk." Pansy blushed. She 
was breathing heavily. "Whatever was in that stuff, it still works. I just 
came again."

"God, you're disgusting, Pansy! Just because someone mentions Shona-milk 
...! Fucking Hell, there she goes again ...!"


**********

Smegs dropped in after breakfast. "I'm off to Lord Ted's," she said, 
excitedly. She had doused herself liberally with some heady perfume that 
made my head spin. She was dressed wholly inappropriately for a 
schoolteacher in stretch pants, an almost obscenely low-cut T-shirt and no 
bra.

"You look great, Smegs," I told her.

Corinne was staring at her in amazement. In her high heels, Smegs towered 
well over six feet. "Are you really going to go to a boys' school dressed like 
that?" Corinne asked.

"Why not? The boys won't be tall enough to see down my front."

"They can stand on each others' shoulders," muttered Corinne.

"Not on each other's shoulders, Cee," I pointed out gently. "One boy can 
stand on another's shoulders, but they can't stand on each other's. It would 
be impossible." I noticed Corinne and Smegs staring at me open-mouthed. 
"What's the matter?" I said.

"You're blathering, Shan," said Smegs, not too unkindly. "Shut up!"

I gathered up my bag of books with all the dignity I could muster. "I'll see 
you later, Cee," I said. "Have a good day, Megan."


**********

"Could you help us with something, Miss, please?" Suzanne sounded at her 
most polite.

"Yes, darling, what is it?"

"It's about milk, Miss."

"MILK?"

"How can we stop it? If someone said they wanted their milk stopped, how 
would they do it?"

"They could try leaving a note out for the milkman."

"Please don't be flippant, Miss." Pansy joined in. "This is serious. If a girl 
had too much milk and it was embarrassing, she might want it stopped. It 
seemed to us that it would be a good use for Sexual Chemistry, instead of 
all this tit expansion and lust and stuff."

I felt a tear prick in my eye. "Oh, Pansy, that's lovely, darling. This person 
with too much milk. Is it, by any chance, anyone we know?"

Pansy went suddenly quiet. Suzanne chirped up. "Oh, Miss, you guessed! I 
knew you would. It's someone we all know. You could say one of us knows 
her very well." A crafty expression came into her face. Pansy had gone 
crimson.

"Well, I suggest you look in your textbooks, and see if you can find a link 
between lactation and any particular chemical. See what you can find and 
tell me if you have any ideas. I'll be here for you, okay?"

"Thanks, Miss," said Suzanne. She had followed me up to my desk. She 
dropped her voice. "It's Shona, Miss. Not anybody else." She appeared to be 
trying to wink, but her mouth kept opening instead of her eye.

"Is there something in your eye, Suzanne?"


**********

"You look fantastic, Cee," I whispered to her, my loins afire.

"Thank you, dear! Had a sexy morning?"

"No, I just thought, when you walked in, I wanted to put my face up your 
skirt and drink from your love-fountain."

"Shannie, I can't hear a word you're saying with your head under my skirt 
like that. Come out and talk to me nicely."

I emerged, hearing the everyday sounds of the restaurant washing around 
us. Girls chattered and giggled and snogged and made love all around us. 
Nobody was taking any notice of two teachers getting off at their table. I 
took a forkful of dinner and offered it to Corinne. She opened her mouth in 
a most suggestive manner, then picked a clementine from the bowl of fruit 
on the table and fed me a few segments one at a time. I licked her little 
fingers. There were tiny damp patches around her nipples.

"I have to work late tonight," I said regretfully. "First Form have a long-
running experiment going, something to do with Fuck." My voice began to 
fade away as Corinne's fingernail traced a pattern on the palm of my hand.

"I'll wait for you in bed, then, darling," she sighed. "If you can hold out that 
long."

It was touch and go whether I would be able to hold out to the end of 
lunch time. I sat and looked helplessly at her, a tiny, fragile figure, like a 
mere schoolgirl with her hair down around her shoulders and her gigantic 
breasts resting on the table like beachballs half filled with water.

"I have to go, darling!" I stood up unsteadily and stood behind Corinne's 
chair, then bent to kiss her face as she looked up. She wrinkled her nose 
delightfully at me.

"See you later. What time?"

"I'll be done by nine."

"You'll be done twice more by half past," she giggled.


**********

I was early. I hurried back to the bedroom with a song on my lips. I don't 
know what the song was, but it probably wasn't 'God Save the Queen'. 
There was the sound of a laugh as I opened the door.

"Hi, Miss!" Anastasia, disturbingly half dressed, was kneeling astride 
Corinne on the bed. She looked back at me over her shoulder and Corinne 
tried to peer past the girl's breast. She failed.

"That you, Shannie?" she called. "Anastasia's just rubbing my boobs with 
cream."

I approached the bed and looked down into Corinne's face. She grinned up 
at me. "You came home early. Serves you right!" she said.

"I suppose so. Getting your own back for Saturday?"

"Miss Meadowlark asked me to rub her boobies. It's taking ever such a lot 
of cream, Miss. She's gigantic!"

"What sort of cream is it?" I asked.

"Just plain cream," Corinne said quickly, before Anastasia could say 
anything. "To make the skin of my breasts softer. They're so full, I get 
worried about getting stretch marks and stuff. Don't forget to finish off 
underneath them, Staze," she said.

Staze, was it, now! Friendly, or what?

"There, Miss!" Anastasia clambered off, and stood beside the bed. She 
stroked Corinne's breast experimentally with the palm of her hand, and 
Corinne shuddered.

"Thanks, Anastasia. Would you like to make us a cup of hot chocolate, 
darling? One for Miss Gruntworthy, too." Anastasia busied herself in the 
kitchen and we heard the occasional crash as her boobs knocked cups 
flying off the shelves. "Wow, that feels so much better," Corinne sighed. 
"She has good hands. You ought to get her to rub yours, too!"

"Not me! You never know what you're being rubbed with in this place. You 
sure it was just plain ordinary cream? Where did you get it?"

Corinne looked away. "Oh, the girls from the First Form Sexual Chemistry 
Group gave it to me, but it's only the plain cream that they use as a base 
for the other exotic stuff. There's nothing in it. No active ingredients at all." 
She was reaching for something under the bed. "Fetch my hankie from the 
dressing table, please, there's a love."

I went and found her hankie, and Corinne moved around on the bed, 
making herself comfortable. Anastasia came back in, carefully carrying two 
mugs. Because of her physique, she had to carry them at arms' length with 
her arms out to the sides. Once she had passed safely through the door, it 
meant that she had to check on the mugs by looking from one to the other. 
The result was that she only spilled them one at a time.

"Will that be all, Miss? I have to finish my homework."

"Thank you, Anastasia. Good night!" Corinne held her arms out to the girl, 
who looked delighted and came over to receive a goodnight kiss. I gave her 
a cuddle and a quick kiss myself. We broke off when Corinne coughed 
politely and Anastasia removed her tongue from my mouth.

"Good night, Anastasia."

"Lovely girl," said Corinne. "It's really useful having her next door like this. 
Good idea of yours, Shan. Oh, the daft bitch forgot to bring the bloody 
Hobnobs. Shannie, be an angel ..."


**********

"If I drink any more of this, I'll need to get up in the middle of the night 
for a piss."

"Mmmmmmmmmm!" said Corinne contentedly. "That feels so good, Shan. 
All warm and comforting. Megan is a bit of a chewer, she doesn't suck like 
you."

"Funny thing, the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group girls were asking me 
about stopping milk. I've told them to get on and do the research. Suzanne 
said it was for someone that we all knew. She said one of us knew her 
rather well. Shit, I thought she was talking about us, and I came over all 
hot and cold."

Corinne seemed to have gone a bit tense.

"But it seems she was talking about Shona. And Pansy was blushing. I 
think young Pansy is in love with Shona!" 

"The fickle bitch! She was supposed to be in love with ME!"

"If they do start cutting off the girls' milk, it will screw up my latest brief 
from Moggie about logging all the details of lactating girls. I'll be out of a 
job. Oh, God, Moggie might put me in charge of those yucky panties!

"Don't you dare, Shannie!"

We snuggled down in the warm bed for a while longer.

"Have you seen Megan since this morning, Shan?"

"Smegs? No. Strange, she's been gone all day. She must have got a result 
with that Gruffydd Lloyd-Jones."

"Or half the boys' choir."

"Or all the boys' choir."

"Even the little ones with their nice haircuts?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"And the big basso profundos who shave twice a day?"

"Oooh, yes, she'll enjoy those. I hope she's all right, though. Imagine her 
being gang-raped by the Lord Ted's choir."

"Megan? Being gang-raped?"

I considered it for a while.

"Yes, you're right. Smegs would gang-rape *them*."


**********

I didn't know what woke me up. Suddenly I was wide awake. Birds were 
yelling their heads off outside, and the sun was shining. I slipped out of 
bed and went to the window. The patch of grass in the middle of the quad 
was glistening with gossamer cobwebs. There was nobody about. A cat 
slunk across the empty quad and slithered into the entrance to the dorm.

Obviously a cat going in search of its morning milk.

I looked back at the bed, where Corinne slept, one arm lying outside the 
covers. There seemed to be a tub of some sort under the bed, on Corinne's 
side. Funny, I hadn't seen it before. Silently, I crept over and dragged the 
tub out into view. There was no label on it. It must be the plain cream 
Anastasia had been rubbing on to Corinne's boobs last night. I pushed it 
back under the bed. It felt nearly empty.

"Oh, hello!" Corinne had opened her eyes and was looking at me from a few 
inches away.

"Hi, you!"

"I must have slept like a log," she said, stretching. A preoccupied look 
crossed her face. She stretched again, cautiously. "Are you making a cup of 
tea?" she asked suddenly.

"If you like." I headed for the kitchen. "It's a lovely morning out there. I'm 
almost tempted to go for a jog..."

A nervous laugh came from the bedroom.

"Or maybe a nice gentle walk ..." I switched on the kettle and came back 
out into the bedroom. Corinne quickly pulled the covers down over herself. 
"Still a bit chilly, though. Are you okay?"

"Yes, fine. Or maybe not. I don't know really. Maybe I'm a bit woozy. I've 
felt this way sometimes since this milk started."

The kettle boiled and switched itself off. I made two mugs of tea and took 
them into the bedroom. I don't have Anastasia's balance problems, my 
breasts hanging so low, and anyway, I carry both mugs in the same hand. 
So I saw Corinne again peering down into the bed. She pulled the covers up 
to her chin and looked at me in something like panic.

"Here you are. Sit up."

"In a minute. Put it on the bedside table for a second." She closed her eyes 
and lay back, and I returned to the window with my mug. The cat came 
back out of the dormitory block and headed for the bra measuring facility. 
A bit early to catch Clit and Flaps up and about, I thought, but no doubt the 
cat knew best.

"Shannie!" Corinne sounded strained somehow.

"What's up?"

"I think something's happened to me in the night. Something dreadful. 
Look!"

I looked. Corinne grasped the corner of the duvet and hesitated for a 
moment. Then, making a decision, she suddenly flung it back, and all was 
revealed.





Part XXIV





Chapter 70:- Cause And Effect


Anastasia heard my scream. She came through from the kitchen, rubbing 
her eyes and fumbling to tie the cord of her dressing gown. "What's the 
matter, Miss, did you spill your tea ...?"

She bent to pick up my mug, tut-tutting at the spreading puddle of tea on 
the carpet.

"You're so clumsy, Miss, you need someone to clean up after you ... what's 
the matter ...?"

Then she followed the direction of my gaze. I was still frozen to the spot, 
staring at Corinne where she lay unmoving in the bed with the duvet flung 
back.

"Shit, Miss!" Anastasia replaced my mug carefully on its side on the floor, 
and crept closer to the bed, not daring to take her eyes off Corinne. At last, 
she turned to me, her face filled with fear. "What's happened to her?"

"It was the cream!" Corinne spoke for the first time since she had revealed 
herself. 

"The cream, Miss?"

"But you said it was plain cream, Cee."

"I thought it was ... oh, God!" Corinne bit down on her knuckle and tried to 
turn over in bed. She couldn't move. On her back, she was helpless as a 
sheep.

I moved closer and stood next to Anastasia, looking down at Corinne. 
Anastasia stirred herself and went round to the other side of the bed. 
Presumably, the view was much the same from round there. "What can we 
do, Miss?"

"I don't know. Cee, can you sit up. Here, let us help you."

She allowed herself to be heaved into a more or less sitting position in the 
bed, propped up with pillows. From this new viewpoint, she could no 
longer ignore what had happened to her. "Oh, fucking hell, what have I 
done?"

"You've done nothing, have you? It wasn't your fault, was it? Corinne?" 

"It was my fault," Anastasia suddenly cried. She began to sob. "I rubbed 
the cream on. I made it happen. It must have been the way I rubbed the 
cream on ..."

Corinne held a hand out to touch Anastasia, but she couldn't reach. Her 
breast was in the way. She looked at me helplessly. "Shannie!"

"Here, let me hold your hand." I found her fingers and held her tight. "We 
need to get you out of bed and see if you can move with these things."

"I need to get up anyway, to go to the loo." At least she was starting to 
think straight. Already, though, I was wondering if we would get her 
through the door. Her breasts were so enormously swollen.

"Are you full of milk?" I asked her.

Corinne thought about that for a while, then shook her head wonderingly. 
"No. I mean I normally would be at this time of the morning, but not today. 
So it's not milk, then!"

"Just as well, perhaps, you'd flood the building with that lot. Come on, Cee. 
Let's help you up. Staze, darling, come round this side and help hold her 
up." Anastasia wiped her tears away and came round the bed, glad of 
something to do.

It was surprisingly easy in the end. Corinne slid her legs over the edge of 
the bed and felt for the floor with her feet. I stepped away and held one 
hand. Anastasia disappeared somewhere behind her and apparently took 
her other one. "Where are you, Anastasia?" I said.

"I'm round here, behind Miss Meadowlark," came a frightened little voice. 
"It's only her boobies that have grown, Miss, the rest of her is the same 
size as before."

Even Corinne managed a scared little giggle at that. I released her hand 
and stood back.

"Can you balance all right?" I was ready to dart forward and catch her 
hand again. She stood there, moving slightly.

"It feels all right. Funnily enough, they don't feel enormously heavy. No 
heavier than before, really. Just so fucking huge."

She was right on that one. Since her last spurt of growth, Corinne's breasts 
without her bra had descended to just below the top of her thighs. They 
used to swell out to the sides so that they were perhaps twice as wide as 
her body. Once gathered up in a bra, they were hoisted up higher and 
squashed together.

But now! I had to try and take in the sheer size of them. They hung a little 
lower than before, but not a lot, only about mid-thigh length. Only! But 
then mine hung down that far without a bra. There, though, the similarity 
ended. Corinne's breasts swelled out from the point where they joined her 
chest, ballooning out to both sides. Each of her breasts was now fully three 
feet wide, and they were even wider nearer their lower extremities.

Her nipples were the same size as last night, although they were now 
surrounded by areolae which had apparently grown or stretched to at least 
six inches in diameter. They used to be puffy and plump, now they seemed 
tight as the skin of a drum. Whereas my nipples pointed straight down at 
the floor, Corinne's were higher and aimed only slightly below the 
horizontal.

Anastasia appeared from behind her. She looked pale and worried and 
snuggled against me when I held my arm out to hold her. "What's 
happened, Miss? She's huge!"

"It looks something like what happened to you, Anastasia, Miss 
Meadowlark has grown much bigger, but no heavier. That cream must 
have been some kind of FatLite." I looked at Corinne and she confirmed 
with a nod that her breasts were more or less the same weight as they had 
been.

"It feels as if they're full of air, Shan. They weigh next to nothing! But ... 
Wha-hay!" She had tried to take a step forward and encountered the same 
problem that young Anastasia was only beginning to come to terms with. 
Both her vastly enlarged breasts started to bounce with the slightest 
motion. One went up, the other went down, and they both went sideways. 
They went about eighteen different ways at once. It took both hands and 
several seconds to bring them under control.

I offered her a hand. "Let's see if you can walk, and we'll get you to the 
toilet. Open the door, Staze."

Off we went, slowly at first, until we managed to find a rhythm at which 
her breasts didn't threaten to take complete control of things. We reached 
the door, and I went through it ahead of her. No trouble for me: without 
my bra on, I can get through doors easily.

From outside the door I could see the scale of the problem. Each of 
Corinne's breasts was much wider than the door frame. "Will they squeeze 
down narrow enough to go through there?" I asked, not very hopefully.

She was already squeezing them, or the first of them, pushing in with both 
hands on the springy mass of flesh. As fast as she pushed inwards at one 
side, it burst out at the other. Eventually, she flattened the inside of her 
right breast against the door frame, then pushed with both hands against 
the outer side.

"It's going," she said. "It works quite well, actually, doing it this way. Look, 
there it goes!" her right breast slipped easily through the gap and joined 
me outside the room. "I'll have to get the other one out now, I can't stay 
like this," she said. It wasn't as easy, this one. With one breast already 
through the door, she wasn't able to twist herself quite so much to push 
the other one through. Anastasia, still in the room, had to lend a hand. 
Suddenly, she was through, Anastasia following her and overbalancing into 
the corridor.

I picked the girl up.

"I'm okay, Miss," she giggled. "I landed on something soft. My tits!"

"Wow! Talk about a struggle. If it's going to take two of us to help you get 
through every doorway, we're not going to have an easy time of it."

"You could use my room, Miss. I've got an extra wide door."

"Thanks, Anastasia, but we can get a wider door put on here in a few days. 
Or double doors, for preference." We set off down the corridor in a stately 
procession. "The loo doors are a bit wider," Corinne said, although the 
cubicle is going to be a tight fit. She was right about that. We reversed her 
in and she sat down, but there was no way of closing the door, so Anastasia 
and I took a brief stroll round the mercifully quiet domestic block, working 
out ways of helping Corinne to move around the school.

"At least, they're not heavy, Miss. If they were as heavy as they should be 
for that size, it would take half a dozen girls just to carry her boobs for 
her." She became serious. "They're far too big for a wheelbarrow, though, 
Miss. She'll need two wheelbarrows, one for each boob!"

"Not a viable solution, I'm afraid. Ask Shona. It's hard enough driving one 
wheelbarrow-load of tit. Two would be impossible. The trouble is going to 
be getting her through doorways. If she wears a bra of some sort to stop 
them bouncing her off her feet, they'll never go through a door of any size. 
She can only get through doorways if she goes topless. All right in the 
summer, but ..."

We retrieved Corinne from the toilets and made it safely back to the room 
again. A discussion broke out.

"She can get in through my door, Miss." Anastasia seemed keen on the idea.

"But then she'd either have to stay in your room or risk getting stuck in 
the kitchen."

"It's all right," Corinne protested, "I came out through here, I can get back 
the same way."

In the end, we had to do as Corinne suggested. They were her boobs, after 
all, and where they went, she was sure to follow. We started the whole 
doorway procedure in reverse, with Anastasia going through first and 
helping push and squeeze in mostly the right directions. Squeaks and 
grunts echoed up and down the corridor. The right breast finally plopped 
inside. I stood out in the corridor with her left one and half of Corinne. 

"Would it help if we covered her with something slippery?" Anastasia's 
voice was faint from inside the bedroom.

"What can you suggest?"

"There's the cream we rubbed on her last night?"

"No way are you rubbing any more of that on me," insisted Corinne. 

"How about butter?" I offered.

"It would take whole packets of the stuff," objected Corinne. 

"It all very well you vetoing every idea," I snapped, and Corinne began to 
cry. Somewhere inside the bedroom, Anastasia was sobbing in sympathy. I 
wasn't feeling too happy myself. 

"You can't leave me here like this," Corinne wailed.

"We're not going to. But you must have got bigger since we came out. We 
can't get this other tit through the door now. No chance!"

That was when I became aware of someone standing there watching the 
whole messy business from behind me.

"What seems to be the trouble, as if I couldn't guess?"

Smegs! Smegs always knows what to do!

"Corinne is stuck in the doorway," I explained as succinctly as possible.

"I gathered that much," sighed Smegs. "You could say I grasped that within 
seconds. And you can spare me the explanations about how she grew to 
this absurd size ..."

Corinne began to cry again.

"Hang on," said Smegs, " don't go away, Cee."

"Oh, har har har." Corinne was in one of her unpleasantly sarcastic moods. 
Much more of this and I would leave her where she was for the rest of the 
day. Smegs disappeared through Anastasia's bedroom door. Shortly 
afterwards, we heard her talking to Anastasia on the other side.

"Eeeek, what the fuck's that?" Corinne shrieked.

"It's all right," shouted Smegs, "it's only washing-up liquid. It will soon 
warm up. And it's so kind and gentle to your hands. Or your breasts. Right, 
hold tight, here we go!"

There was a burst of grunting and fluent cursing, and quite suddenly, 
Corinne was standing next to me in the corridor, both her breasts on the 
same side of the door.

"Ouch," she said, rubbing her abused right breast ruefully.

Smegs and Anastasia joined us. "There you are," said Smegs. "Problem 
solved. Any questions?"

"Only one thing," I said. "We were trying to get her in, not out."


**********

Poor Jeremy had a difficult task fitting the larger door and frame while 
trying not to stare at Corinne, whom we had finally managed to insinuate 
into the room with the help of half a bottle of lemon-flavoured Fairy 
Liquid.

It took us more than an hour to wash the sticky stuff off her breasts. We 
sat her on a table in the middle of the room and attacked her with sponges 
and buckets of clean water. She never stopped complaining the whole time. 
We had to fit Anastasia up with a personal stereo in case she learned any 
new and dreadful words.

Smegs put up with the moaning and bitching for five minutes then made 
an excuse and left. Even I was getting pretty cheesed off with it, and I 
finally had to let Anastasia get on with the job on her own while I went to 
keep Jeremy company as he worked on the doorframe.

Even despite one or two unavoidable minor delays for doggie-style 
copulation on the floor of the corridor, the new door was in place by 
midday. Corinne was able to come and go - in and out of the bedroom 
without let or hindrance - although admittedly not without touching both 
sides of the doorway at once.

Not that it stopped her complaints. She had nothing to wear. I pointed out 
that she couldn't suddenly triple the size of her breasts and expect all her 
old clothes to fit. Out of the goodness of my heart I even called Clit and she 
came over with a pile of stuff. Obviously I had underestimated Corinne's 
new size, because Clit had to go away, swearing colourfully, and come back 
with a few tent-shaped and marquee-sized items.

"I can't wear that," Corinne yelled, as Clit held up a vast maternity dress. 
"I'm not pregnant! And look at the pattern. All those purple sunflowers."

"They're hibiscus," Clit reassured her. "And if you don't wear this, you're in 
deep shit, nothing else fits. You're outside our size range."

Using language which made me blush for shame, Corinne draped the dress 
over herself. She looked like a Volkswagen Microbus from 1967.

"It suits you," I told her bravely, and dodged the hail of missiles she 
launched at me.

Even Moggie came to see us. Perhaps she was curious to see why none of 
her teaching staff apart from Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen had turned up 
to work that morning.

"Fucking Hell, Corinne," said Moggie with deep respect. "Those things are 
without exception the biggest fucking tits I have ever seen in my fucking 
life."

Corinne blushed prettily.

"Get her measured, Chauntaille, and send a print off to the Sunday Smut. 
With any luck, it will catch this week's edition. Valuable publicity for St 
Catherine's High School for Girls. Hello Anastasia, you're looking vast."

Anastasia blushed prettily.

"Are those things as heavy as they ought to be?" Moggie grasped the 
nearer of Anastasia's boobs in both hands and hefted it experimentally, 
bringing a startled yelp from the girl. "Golly, they weigh nothing! We could 
grow you another five feet yet, dear. See to it, Chauntaille, please!"

And off she swept.

Smegs came back in. "Was that Moggie just then? Shit, I missed her. I 
wanted to tell her about the boys' choir. But of course, I haven't even told 
you yet, have I? Anastasia, I just remembered, I left some papers in the 
back of my car. In the luggage compartment. They're in a blue folder. 
Would you mind fetching them for me, please? Good girl!"

Smegs sat down.

"Now, where shall I start ...?"





Chapter 71:- Love At First Sight


"So how tall is he, Smegs? This Eifion bloke. You've told us everything else 
about him."

"Yes, everything else," said Corinne, sounding disapproving, "I bet he 
wasn't even tall enough to see down your cleavage."

"He was," Smegs thought about it for a while. "Nearly. He's about five feet 
two. But solid sinew and muscle. A bit of fat round the middle. And wears 
glasses. I think I'll let Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen have him after all."

"Now you've seen what he can do ..."

"And how quickly ..."

"What about the boys in the choir?" I asked in desperation. "They can't be 
all as bad as Mr Gruffydd Lloyd-Jones."

A half-smile played across Smegs's lips. "No, some of them are quite tasty. 
Well, I didn't get home until this morning, so they can't have been that 
bad, can they?"

"No, I suppose not." Actually, that meant nothing. Smegs had been so 
horny, she would probably have spent the entire night at Lord Ted's even 
if the only male there had been a nonogenarian with a flaccid two-inch 
weapon.

"They invited me into the Senior Dorm."

"What was it like?" Corinne moved too suddenly and one of her breasts slid 
off the edge of the bed with ponderous grace and became wedged between 
the bed and the wall.

"Just a dorm, same as one of ours. Beds down both sides, wardrobes and 
stuff. They all had pictures of girls stuck up all over the place, but when I 
came in they started covering them up. Strange." 

"Give me a hand with this tit, Smegs," I said. I was on hands and knees 
beside the bed, trying to lift Corinne's breast, but it had become firmly 
stuck.

"Hang on," she said. "Crawl under it and lift it up on your back. I'll hold it 
steady. Right, How's that?"

Smegs always knows what to do. She helped roll the enormous tit back on 
to the bed next to its owner, who threw an arm round it.

"Try and keep those things under control, Cee, please," I told her, "I'm not 
picking them up again."

"Sorry, Shannie!" At least, Corinne wasn't in her argumentative mood any 
more. To show how much I loved her I stuffed a pillow under her boob to 
stop it getting away again.

"What sort of girls?"

"Hunh?" Smegs looked puzzled. "These pictures of girls in the boys' dorm? 
What were they like?"

"Just girls, you know?"

"Big tits?"

"Pretty big, some of them."

"Big as yours?"

"Some of them."

"Big as mine?"

"No!"

"Big as Anastasia's?"

"NO! They were just girls, most of them. Ordinary girls with little flat 
breasts. Like Pamela Anderson, that sort of thing."

"Yuck, Smegs. That's sick! No wonder they tried to hide them from you. It 
was a dorm full of perverts!"

"Is that where you slept?" Corinne wanted to know.

"It's where I spent the night. Funny, the boys aren't like our girls at all. 
Most of them don't seem to sleep with each other, and there didn't seem to 
be any other girls apart from me."

"Like I told you. A bunch of perverts. I bet they spend every night 
wanking. Did they all wear thick glasses?"

"Most of them, yes," Smegs admitted. "Why?"

"It affects your eyesight, doesn't it. If you're a boy. Did they have hair on 
the palms of their hands?"

"I don't know, it was dark."

I bet Smegs didn't look. It would be just like her not to look. 

The kitchen door opened and Anastasia came in.

"Here's your folder, Miss. Is it the right one?"

Smegs took it without even looking at it. "Yes, thanks, Anastasia."

"We didn't hear you come in, Anastasia," Corinne said. "And I'd have 
thought you would have come in through the new door."

"Oh, yes, Miss. Sorry, Miss. I forgot. Force of habit, Miss."

She was backing away toward the kitchen again, as if anxious about 
something.

"I'll get on with my project work, Miss, shall I?"

"Good girl, Anastasia."

"What's up with her? She's acting strangely." Corinne looked at me 
quizzically. "As if she's guilty about something."

"Shall I go and see what she's up to?"

"Well, I certainly can't. It would take me half an hour and two bottles of 
Fairy Liquid to get through that kitchen. Nah, leave her alone. She's 
probably just playing with herself in there."

"She'll go blind," I said.

"Or she'll grow hairs in all sorts of places," suggested Smegs.

"Oh, no, she's doing that already."


**********

"Do you think it's true, what Megan said?" Corinne sipped her mug of 
coffee and rested it on top of her right breast. "Look! These things do come 
in useful, after all," she said.

"You mean, did she sleep with half the Sixth Form at Lord Ted's. Probably, 
you know what she's like. No discrimination at all."

There was a tentative knock on the kitchen door.

"Is that Anastasia?" Corinne looked at me in surprise. "What's she knocking 
for, she usually barges straight in. Come in, Staze, darling!"

Anastasia crept into the room, looking round her. She seemed slightly 
relieved about something.

"Oh, good, Miss Mountains has gone, Miss. I've got a problem, Miss 
Gruntworthy."

"What's the matter, love? Trouble with your project work? I'll come and 
give you a hand." I drained my coffee and got up.

"NO! No, thank you, Miss. It's not that."

"Something more personal? Is it something to do with your bottom bits, 
your girls' things?"

I have a sure touch when it comes to discussing delicate matters with the 
girls.

"No, Miss." She seemed to consider for a while then changed her mind. 
"Well, yes, actually. In a way it is."

Corinne handed me her empty mug, then lay back and closed her eyes. 
"I'm feeling tired, Shan. Why don't you go in there and talk it over, you 
two?"

"NO! No, Miss. It's all right, honest. It's nothing." Anastasia started backing 
out again. I followed her.

"It's best to talk about these things. Sometimes what can seem an 
unsurmountable problem turns out to be nothing when you talk about it."

Anastasia had backed up as far as the kitchen door. She opened it and 
reversed through.

"There's no need to come in, Miss, really."

"I'm only going to the kitchen to wash the mugs, Staze, what's the matter?"

She opened her bedroom door and started to squeeze through it 
backwards.

"Ouch!" She had forgotten her enormous breasts. Amazing how you can do 
that sometimes. She yanked the door open and shot into her bedroom, 
slamming the door shut behind her. All the crockery rattled on the shelves.

What a strange girl.


**********

Half an hour must have passed. Corinne was sound asleep. I had managed 
to mark a whole pile of exercise books, which gave me a warm glow of 
self-congratulation. The last book was open on the table, and I skimmed 
through the spidery, backward-sloping handwriting.

The student rounded off a masterly essay on the role of the female breast 
in foreplay with the words: 'But since I have been able to suck my own 
nipples since I was eleven, I have not had personal need of a boy to get me 
off by playing with my tits. Hence, the role of the female breast in foreplay 
has been overrated in literature down the ages.'

I awarded the work a B-minus, then changed it into a plus. Then I crossed 
that out and wrote 'C-minus, See Me, Rachel'. And I closed the book and 
dropped it on the pile. Anastasia's face had appeared at the door again.

"Please, Miss. I've still got a problem."

"Come here, Anastasia. Tell me about it."

"There's this boy, Miss."

A boy? Things were looking up at St Cat's. I tried to think when Anastasia 
might have found the opportunity to meet a boy over the past week or 
more. I drew a blank.

"A boy? Where did you meet him?"

"In the car park, Miss. Downstairs."

"You met a boy in the car park. What happened? You didn't do anything, 
did you? You didn't go into the woods or anything horrid like that?"

"Gosh, Miss! Of course not! I brought him up to my room. You said it would 
be all right, didn't you?"

"I suppose so. But when did you meet him? Is he nice? Where did he come 
from?"

"This afternoon, Miss. He's quite nice. Well-spoken. He came out of the back 
of Miss Mountains's car, Miss."

"He did what?"

"He stowed away. It was ever so romantic." Her eyes misted over. She 
wasn't wearing her glasses, I noticed. "He climbed into the luggage boot of 
Miss Mountains's car this morning, when she was leaving Lord Ted's. That's 
Lord Edward's, Miss. He hid in the back, and closed the lid. And when I 
went down to get Miss Mountains's folder, I opened the lid and there he 
was, all cramped up inside and blinking at the daylight. And I fell in love 
with him, Miss."

"You did?"

"Straight away, Miss. At first sight, the way you do."

The way I do, too, I thought. Wow! Anastasia the dark horse.

"Has he gone now? How did he get back to Lord Ted's?"

"He hasn't gone. He's still in my room. That's the problem, Miss. Or part of 
it."

"He can catch a bus, Anastasia. There should be one at four o' clock. 
Problem solved."

"No it's not. That's not the problem. He can't do it, Miss."

My blood ran cold. "Can't do what, Anastasia?"

"It, Miss. He can't fuck. He knows the word, 'cos I asked him, although he 
went a bit red. But when I told him to do it, he just lay there. That's the 
problem, Miss. Can you show him how it's done?"

"Me?"

"Of course, Miss. You know how, don't you? You've done it before, 'cos I 
watched you do it with Mr Jeremy. You were doing it wrong, Pansy said, 
but it looked all right from where I was standing."

"Where were you standing, Anastasia?"

"On a box outside the caretaker's shed, Miss. We all took turns. Only I 
missed the best bit, 'cos I only saw the end, just before Mr Jeremy 
collapsed. Then when you started sucking his willie, it was the end of my 
turn and Shona got on the box, and it broke 'cos she's so enormously 
heavy, Miss. So could you, please?"

"What was the question again, Anastasia?"

"Show him how to do it?"

"I'd better have a word with this boy. What's his name?"

Anastasia shrugged. "I dunno, I never asked him. Is it important?"

"If you fall madly in love with someone, darling, it helps if you know their 
name. It gives you something to shout as you come."

"COME, Miss! That's that word! I've been trying to remember the word all 
afternoon. He didn't know it. I wanted to tell him he had to do it to me and 
come, but I couldn't remember the word at all. If I go and tell him now, do 
you think it will help him get over his problem, Miss?"

"No, it may well be more deep-seated than that. Come with me, Anastasia, 
and we will all have a little chat. Have you lost your glasses?" I asked her 
as she cannoned into the edge of the door and backed up for another 
approach.

"I took them off, Miss. They make me look like a nerd."


**********

He looked at me closely, without seeing. 

"Where are your glasses, boy?" I asked him.

"In my pocket, over on the chair. They make me look like a nerd, Miss."

"Go get them, Anastasia, and put your own on, while you're at it. What's 
your name, boy?"

Anastasia arrived with a spectacles case. The two lovers looked at each 
other and saw the whole truth for the first time. They both looked quite 
relieved. They even smiled.

"Vincent, Miss."

"Vincent what?"

"Vincent what nothing, Miss. It's what Vincent. Actually, it's Clark Vincent."

"Is that Clark Watt Vincent or Vincent Watt Clark?"

"Not Watt, Miss."

"Not what?"

"Watt, Miss."

"Ah, you mean it's Clark Vincent. Or Vincent Clark?"

"Yes, Miss."

This boy was definitely Potential Army Officer Material.

"Is Vincent your surname or is that Clark?"

"Oh, I see, Miss." He grinned. He looked almost intelligent when he grinned. 
"Vincent's my surname."

"Well, Clark, this is Anastasia." 

"An-a-stays-ia," said Clark experimentally, reddening.

"Hello, Clark!"

"Hello, Anastasia!"

We were getting on like a house on fire. "Now you shake hands," I 
prompted. Just as well they hadn't consummated their union yet. At least 
it would be all right now they had been formally introduced. They shook 
hands, and Anastasia kissed Clark gently on the nose. How sweet, I 
thought. A personal touch. If she adopted that course in later life, she 
would be a popular girl. Especially with those whopping great tits.

Clark was looking from one of us to the other. "Excuse me, Miss, but you're 
not sisters by any chance, are you?"

"No, Clark. St Cat's isn't a convent. I'm just plain ordinary Miss 
Gruntworthy."

"No, Miss. You're not Anastasia's sister?"

"Of course not. I'm her teacher."

"But you're both so ... you've got such ..."

Anastasia helped him out. "Gigantic tits, Clark?"

He went almost purple. So did Anastasia. 

"Yes," the poor boy muttered. "Gigantic."

"It's just the way we are," I explained. "Most of us are rather large, here. 
Now, has Anastasia told you what she wanted you to do?"

"She called it fucking, Miss."

"It's not the nicest word in the world, but that sums it up, yes, Clark. 
Anastasia wants to make love to you. You see, she fell in love with you at 
first sight."

"No shit!" Clark said, deeply impressed.

"So she wants to go to bed with you."

"Bloody Hell!" he said.

I took his sweaty hand. "But she can't, you see, because she's only eleven, 
and you're how old?"

"Fifteen, Miss. She can't be eleven, not with those things ..."

"And what are they called, Clark?"

"Tits, Miss."

"I'm afraid she is. So you see, you can't go to bed and make love, because 
you're not really old enough. Sorry, old bean, but that's the way it is."

Anastasia was sobbing gently. 

Clark looked intensely relieved.

"You'd better both get dressed. Come in next door when you're ready to 
go."

I hurried out before I burst into tears myself.


**********

Corinne was awake.

"Hi, lover," she said, and immediately felt for her breasts. They were still 
there. Corinne sighed heavily.

"Hi, yourself. You ready for a major shock? Anastasia had a boy in her bed. 
They're getting dressed now."

She sat up suddenly, things rebounding in all directions. "Help me up," she 
said. I gave her a hand and she stood there in her Microbus dress.

"A boy?"

"Clark Vincent by name. No doubt he had an impressionable mother. Not 
very bright, but a pretty boy. I wonder, I still have some marking to do 
tonight. Could you take him back to Lord Ted's in a taxi?"

"Sure, why not? Lord Ted's? How did he get here?"

"All very romantic. He stowed away in Smegs's car. Anastasia found him 
and fell in love at first sight, poor kid. Nothing happened. He couldn't do it. 
And I've told them it's all off. She'll get over it, but Anastasia may have 
spoiled him for life with those knockers of hers. Aaah, here they come ..."

The lovers came in, holding hands pathetically.

"Clark, come and meet Miss Meadowlark, who will be taking you home to 
Lord Ted's in a taxi."

"Hello Miss Meadowlark," they shook hands and he leaned forward and 
tried to plant a little wet kiss on Corinne's nose. He had further to reach 
than he had anticipated, and toppled forward into Corinne's bosom. She 
looked at me wide-eyed as I smothered my giggles in a hankie.

"Fucking hell," gasped Clark after Anastasia had helped to pull him back on 
to his feet. "Another one. Yours must be the biggest tits in the whole world, 
Miss!"

Corinne blushed prettily.





Chapter 72:- The Age Of Innocence


"Hey, you guys, guess what!"

"Shut the door, Goofy!"

"Oh, belt up!"

"Go away!"

"Guess who I just saw in the car park!"

Suzanne yawned and stretched herself. "All right, Goof, who did you just 
see?"

The girl known as Goofy savoured her moment of fame and popularity. 
"You'll never guess," she said. "They were getting into a taxi. One of those 
black London ones."

"What does it matter what kind of taxi it was, Goof?"

"Well it did, s'matter of fact. 'Cos she'd never have got into an ordinary car, 
she's too big."

"Who's too big? Goof, spill it, will you, before I flatten you!"

"It was Miss Meadowlark. She's huge!" Goofy hurried on before the abuse 
could break out again. "She's much bigger than before. You know how big 
she was?"

Pansy knew. "You mean she's even bigger?" she asked urgently.

"Big as a house. She'd got this dress on, all purple flowers, like a pregnant 
dress, but she wasn't pregnant. This was all her tits! You know how wide 
those doors are on those black cabs. She couldn't get her tits through the 
door!"

Gasps went up. Goofy now had the full attention of the First Form 
dormitory.

"Miss Gruntworthy was there - I think she'd forgotten to put her bra on, 
she was hanging right down to here somewhere - and she was pushing and 
shoving, trying to get Miss Meadowlark's tits into the cab, but they couldn't 
even get one in there. In the end, they dragged her out again, with the 
driver inside pushing her tit out of the cab with both hands."

"Golly!"

"And in the end, Miss Gruntworthy got in the cab and Miss Meadowlark 
went back indoors. She could only just get through the double doors. Like I 
say, she's really grown huge!"

Suzanne and Pansy looked at each other with dawning horror.

"But that's not the best bit," said Goofy. "Guess who came out?"

"Get on with it!"

"Anastasia, and she had a BOY with her!"

"A BOY? What was he like?"

"Taller than her. But quite old. He must have been fourteen, fifteen. He'd 
got a Lord Edward's school blazer on. Blue with red piping and a badge on 
the pocket. He was dead horny looking. I'd have given him one..."

The other girls made allowances for the terminally virginal Goofy's 
statement, the girl was obviously in an emotional state.

"Anyway, he got in the cab with Miss Gruntworthy, and Anastasia snogged 
him. Then she went running indoors with her tits flopping and bouncing all 
over the place ..."

There was an angry growl from the audience.

"... and then the taxi drove off. That was all."

Goofy was surrounded by girls, eager for information about Anastasia, the 
boy, and the new, larger Miss Meadowlark. 

Suzanne took Pansy to one side. "You've made her grow, see? It was that 
cow's milk and sugar in the FatLite. You made Miss Meadowlark grow. I'm 
telling!"

"You're not sure it was the FatLite. It could have been anything. Anyway, 
we don't know she has grown. You know what Goofy's like, she's 
exaggerating again."

"Well, we'll go and see Miss Meadowlark now, in her room." Suzanne 
grabbed at her cousin's hand and hauled her out of the dorm.


**********

"Look at this door, Pan. They've put a new door on. It's wider than the old 
one."

"Let's see her, quick. Before Miss Gruntworthy comes back from wherever 
she's gone." She rapped on the door. There was a pause before it opened. 
Anastasia stood there, her eyes red and her face stained with tears. She 
gasped as she saw who the visitors were, and tried to close the door again.

"Is Miss Meadowlark there? We want to see her." Suzanne began to push 
her way in, while Anastasia leaned on the door. She was no match for 
Suzanne and Pansy. The door suddenly opened and the girls burst in. They 
looked around. "Where is she?"

Corinne edged herself round the kitchen door and made her way carefully 
back into the room.

"Suzanne, Pansy? What can we do for you? You know you're not allowed 
up here, don't you."

"Bleeding shit, Miss, look at your tits!"

"Bloody Hell, Miss! What happened?"

Corinne smiled a private little smile. "Happened, Suzanne? Oh, I grew a bit. 
Possibly just another growth spurt. I get them from time to time. Now, 
what was it you wanted?"

"Nothing, Miss." Pansy tugged at Suzanne's sleeve and retreated. "It wasn't 
anything. C'mon Suze."

"But you're huge, Miss!" Suzanne wasn't giving up. Even as Pansy heaved 
her bodily from the room, her heels dragging along on the carpet, she still 
looked over her shoulder for an answer from Corinne. She didn't get one. 
The girls ended up in the corridor and Anastasia closed the door.

"Wow, did you see her!"

"Course I saw her. It was the FatLite. You fucked it up again, Pan!"

Pansy went quiet as they walked along. She had really done it this time, 
and all for the sake of a hap'orth of tar, or a half-pint of Shona-milk. 
Thanks to her, Miss Meadowlark, wonderful Miss Meadowlark, was 
inflated to the size of a Microbus.

"Pan?"

"What do you want?"

"You know Anastasia?" 

"Course I know Anastasia. Why do you always ask such stupid questions?"

"You know she had a Lord Edward's boy? They must have let her have a 
boy in that room of hers. Her! Anastasia! What right has she got to get off 
with boys when we're locked up in this place?"

"We're not locked up, Suze. And we've got plenty of girls to talk to."

"I'm not talking about talking to them. You don't TALK to boys, Pan! You 
fuck them!"

"We can fuck girls. I did Shona last night."

"It's not the same. Not the same thing at all. And that little four-eyed 
squirt Anastasia is getting herself laid every night while we're ..."

"You don't know she's getting herself laid, Suze. She might have had a boy 
in for tea. It might be her brother, or anything!"

"You don't snog your brother in a taxi, do you?"

Pansy tried to imagine snogging her little brother in a taxi or anywhere. 
"No," she said.

"We're going to get fucked!" Suzanne said fiercely.

"What? Where? How? Who with? When?"

"As my Mum always says about boys. There's no time like the present. 
And much as I don't like to copy Anastasia's ideas, she has a good one now 
and again. We can find all the boys we want. At Lord Edward's!"

"Suzanne! We can't! How would we get there?"

"On the bus, how do you think?"

"We can't just walk out and catch the bus. We're eleven years old. It would 
be on television and everything. We wouldn't get as far as the end of the 
road."

"Eleven?"

"You know we are."

"Nobody else would. If we take our St Cat's uniforms off, we'd pass for 
eighteen, easy. Even you would with your little sixty-four inch titties!"

"You mean we put ordinary clothes on and sneak out, then catch the bus to 
Lord Ted's, just like that?"

"You got it, Pan. Great idea!"

"But what do we do when we get there?"

"We get fucked, of course. Then we come home and tell the others!"


**********

I was home within the hour.

"All safely delivered. I handed him over to a teacher. I thought he was 
going to take him away and check him out for sexually transmitted 
diseases. I don't know where people get these ideas about St Cat's."

"Perhaps it would have been better if you'd had time to dress properly 
before you went out," suggested Corinne. 

"A pity, yes. But by the time we'd got you back out of the cab, there was a 
fiver on the meter already. There wasn't time to come in and find a bra 
and a decent top. Does this one really look too sluttish, Cee?"

"Not if it was dark. Did they take you inside?"

"Only into the lobby. It was fairly dark in there. Do you think I got away 
with it?"

"Probably. What was the teacher like?"

"I don't know. I told you, he wouldn't come near me. Scared, I suppose. 
How's Anastasia taking it," I asked.

"A bit weepy."

"I'd better go and give her a cuddle. The poor kid had really set her heart 
on getting fucked. Hot chocolate? I'll make Anastasia one as well."

"Suzanne and Pansy came. I don't know what for. Anastasia tried to keep 
them out but they came in and stared at these things, then they left."

"Did they look guilty? About the cream?"

"No more than usual. They always look guilty to me, those two."

"How are they? Your breasts, I mean."

"They don't feel any different really. Except when they bash into things or 
get stuck in taxis. Shannie. How am I ever going to go anywhere? If I can't 
get them into a black cab, I'll never get them into a car. Or a train. I'll be 
stuck here at St Cat's for ever and ever."

"You could get into a van. One with a sliding door. We could take you 
everywhere in a van."

"Why not a truck," Corinne said bitterly. "They could unload me with a 
stacker truck. Or just tip me off the back into the road."

"We'll think of something. Smegs will know what to do. And you might not 
always be as big as this. They grew overnight, they could get smaller again 
just as quickly."

"Or they might get twice as big again tonight!"

Why can't that girl look on the bright side now and again.


**********

Anastasia wasn't looking on the bright side. I knocked on her door.

"Oh, it's you, Miss. What do you want?"

"I made you a cup of cocoa. May I come in?"

She said nothing, but cleared a minimal space on her bedside table.

"Didn't you like him, Miss? Was he horrible?"

"Who, Clark? No, he wasn't horrible. He seemed a nice enough boy. We had 
quite a little chat in the taxi. He spoke very highly of you."

Anastasia looked up with hope dawning on her face. "What did he say?"

"He said he hadn't really met any girls, but you were the nicest he had 
ever met. In fact, he said you were the only one he'd ever met, really. You 
frightened him a bit, getting him into bed. You mustn't rush boys, you 
know. They need time to get used to it. And you need to let them think 
they lured YOU into bed, not the other way round."

"That's daft, Miss. Why?"

I shrugged. "It's just the way it is. He said you've got fantastic tits, too. He 
thinks they must be the biggest in the world."

"But they're not as big as yours, nor Miss Meadowlark's," Anastasia said, 
blushing prettily, although she could hardly talk for giggling. She looked 
down at them. "Are they*nearly* the biggest in the world, Miss? Are they 
*very* nice ones?"

I hugged her and she snuggled against me. "They could easily be the 
biggest in the world one day. And the nicest. And lots of lovely boyfriends 
will come along and fall in love with you."

"Ooooh, Miss! When will they all come along? This week? Now I've nearly 
had Clark, I'd quite like to try some more. I mean, I've got my own room, it 
would be a shame to waste it."

I sighed. Girls did seem to grow up so early these days. In some ways.

"Perhaps one day you could have a few boys over for tea in your room. 
And Shona could come along. Maybe Pansy and Suzanne."

"Not those two, Miss. They're horrible. But Shona would love to. It would 
save having to buy extra milk. And Toots could come as well, when she 
starts at St Cat's." She was quiet for a moment, resting her head against my 
breast and thigh. Suddenly she sat up. "Hey, Miss! Toots doesn't live very 
far away. Couldn't she come along for the afternoon? Nigel could bring her 
over. Nigel could collect the boys, too, so they wouldn't need to hide in the 
backs of cars to get here. Oh, Miss! It's a lovely idea. The best you ever 
had! When can we do it? This Sunday?"


**********

"All sorted out?" said Corinne. "Is our Anastasia happy now?"

"Ecstatic. Unfortunately, I may have mishandled the situation slightly." I 
explained to Corinne, who was giggling long before the punchline.

"You've done it again, Shannie! How are you going to wiggle out of this 
one?"

"Oh, it shouldn't be a problem, should it? They'll only be next door. Say six 
of them; Anastasia, Shona and Toots, and three boys from a good school. 
They can toast crumpets and have a pot of tea and play at being grown-
ups. What possible trouble could they get up to?"

Corinne sighed. "No, I suppose you're right. Just the six of them: three girls 
with an average bust measurement of about a hundred and ten, one of 
them spouting milk like a fountain; and three rampantly randy boys who 
haven't seen a female for months; all crammed together in a room fifteen 
feet by ten with a nice cosy open fireplace and a bed. What possible 
trouble could they get up to? Go for it, Shannie! Your best idea yet."

"Funny, that's just what Anastasia said."

There was a knock and Smegs came in.

"What plot are you two hatching between you?"

"Oh, nothing," I said. "Just a little tea party for some of the girls."

"It will probably turn into an orgy if I know our lot. Still, if it keeps them 
off the streets. Look, I'm just off out for the evening. Looking up an old 
friend."

"What, dressed like that?" Corinne looked Smegs up and down. From my 
position on the floor at Corinne's feet, I couldn't quite see down Smegs's 
cleavage, but I was familiar with the territory.

"It looks all right, doesn't it? Not too tarty?"

Corinne looked slightly disapproving, as if she was Smegs's mother. I 
thought she was about to ground her for a month.

"That skirt. It's not yours, surely?"

Smegs coloured slightly. "No, I borrowed it from Sexy Amy. It's not too 
tight, is it?"

"It looks great to me," I said. It did, from down on the floor.

"I hope you're wearing knickers, that's all," Corinne scolded.

"She is," I said, "I can see them."

"Of course I am," Smegs snapped. "One has to set an example. What about 
the top?"

"Is that Sexy Amy's too?"

"No, hers are too loose on me now," Smegs said with regret. "Pity, she's got 
some nice ones."

"She certainly has," I agreed enthusiastically.

"This is my own top. I altered it a bit, that's all. It doesn't show my nipples, 
does it?"

"Not from down here, it doesn't."

Smegs obligingly leaned forward.

"Oooh, yes it does! Gosh, Megan! What's his name?"

"I don't know. I only met him last night. But he looks old enough to drink, 
so we're going out to a pub. Then we'll just take it as it comes."

"You always do, Smegs, you always do!"

"I'll be off then. See you when I see you."

"Good luck! Give him one for me."

The door closed and we heard Smegs's footsteps clopping away to the top 
of the stairs.

"She looks an absolute slut," said Corinne in tones of outrage. "A 
schoolteacher, going out looking like a whore, with a schoolboy, too!"

"Lucky bitch. I suppose we'll hear all about it in the morning."

Sometimes I think young Corinne is a little bit narrow-minded. I stroked 
her feet and nibbled her toenails for her and she wriggled her toes. She 
seemed to enjoy that. Unfortunately, I couldn't easily get at the backs of 
her knees where she was sitting in the easy chair, as her breasts hung 
down in the way.

"Did Clit give you any idea when your bra might be ready?"

"Maybe tomorrow, she said. Although since it's the biggest she's ever 
made, it might need a special fitting or two. She kept saying we'd need 
four inch wide shoulder straps and double heavy duty velcro fasteners. I 
couldn't get her to believe that they're no heavier than they used to be 
yesterday. Yesterday! I feel as if I've always been this size."

"No, don't say that, Cee. We don't want the selective amnesia rearing its 
head again."

"No problem about that. I can remember every detail. I suppose I'll get 
used to  them in time. The main disadvantage is that I can't make a cup of 
hot chocolate. They get in the way too much."

I started to get up. "I'll go and make it ..."

"Get Anastasia to do it, Shannie. Then come back and kiss my feet again. It 
feels lovely when you do that!"

Sounded all right by me. I switched on the kettle then peeped into 
Anastasia's room. The lights were out and the mounded shape in the bed 
was obviously sound asleep.

I put Corinne's mug next to her hand on the table. "Poor kid's sound asleep. 
She's had a busy day. And she nearly got rid of her innocence."

Corinne sighed as I took up my position again.

"Yes, she's still got her innocence. It's all we've got, some of us."





Part XXV





Chapter 73:- Love In A Cold Climate


"We can't hide out here in the woods all night, Suze. I'm freezing. Whose 
idea was this anyway? My knees are turning blue and my nipples are 
nearly dropping off."

"Stop moaning. I should have come on my own. It would have been a sight 
easier to find one boy than two. We've had loads of boys go past on their 
own that I could have had."

"We could have had some of the others."

"They were all in threes and fours. We're looking for two."

"There's hardly any now. There were dozens before. I bet they're all 
indoors doing their homework and stuff. Indoors in the warm."

"Pan, look! Two boys together. Coming down the path."

Pansy looked. Two boys were indeed on their way down the path through 
the woods. Her stomach turned over. She felt sick.

"I don't think much of yours," said Suzanne. "Let them get a bit closer, then 
follow me."

The boys approached. They were walking quite slowly, unlike the others 
earlier, who had been hurrying somewhere, walking with a purpose. These 
two were out for an evening stroll.

"They're holding hands, Suze!"

"So what? Girls hold hands all the time."

"Boys don't. You never see boys holding hands."

The boys stopped and looked around them, then stepped off the leafy path 
into the shade of some bushes. "Can you see them, Pan?"

"No. Where have they gone?"

"Dunno. They won't have gone far. Let's go find them. C'mon!"

And before Pansy could protest, Suzanne was off like a long dog, crashing 
through the undergrowth, on to the path toward the lights of the school 
until a well-trodden patch of grass indicated where the boys had left the 
pathway. Pansy followed her cousin, although all she could see in the 
gloom was the gleam of her skin-tight day-glow pants rippling with every 
movement of her generous rump. She wished she had worn a bra. Her 
breasts were rubbed raw against her tight sweater. She cupped them to 
stop them bouncing out of control, and collided with Suzanne who had 
stopped dead in the middle of a clearing in the bushes. The two girls lost 
their balance and staggered across the muddy grass, ending up in an 
untidy heap on the dewy ground.

Pansy wanted to cry. She could feel a big wet muddy patch on her sweater, 
right across both tits. Then she saw what it was that had caused Suzanne to 
stop so suddenly.

The boys were right in front of them. One was standing. The other was 
kneeling in front of him. At that very moment, the moon came out from 
behind the scudding clouds and a ghastly blue glow lit the scene like a 
spotlight.

Both the boys gave a hoarse cry, and tried to scramble away through the 
bushes. One of them, the one who had been standing, had to keep stopping 
to pull up his trousers. Both cast panic-stricken looks over their shoulders 
as if they were being pursued by all the devils in Hell.

Nobody was pursuing anybody.

"What were they doing, Suze?"

"Dunno. But you'd think if two pretty girls came out of the bushes, they'd 
jump at the chance of a fuck, wouldn't you?"

"Maybe they had to go and do their homework. They seemed in a bit of a 
hurry to get away."

"I still didn't think much of yours," said Suzanne.

"Which was mine?"

"The one with the thick glasses."

"They both had thick glasses." Pansy stepped forward to the scene of the 
lovers' tryst. She picked up a pair of glasses from the mud and held them 
up to her eyes. "No wonder he threw these away, I can't see a bloody thing 
through them." And she hurled them as far as she could into the woods. 
"Come on, Suze, I don't think we'll find any more boys at this time of night. 
What time's the last bus?"

The bell in the school clock tower began to strike the hour.

"Oh, fuck it, Pan. I think we just missed it. We'd better run!"

They set off at a lumbering, bouncing canter, until Suzanne stopped again. 
Despite her considerable advantage in size over her cousin, she had much 
better brakes.

"Look out!" she squeaked, and ducked back into the shadows. "That car! It's 
Miss Mountains's!"

"What's she doing here, Suze?"

"Fuck knows. Maybe she's got a date. Teachers like to fuck as well as girls, 
you know. Anyway. She'll give us a lift back to Cat's."

"We can't ask her. She'll kill us!"

"She won't know. We'll ride in the back, where the luggage goes."

"Is there room for us both in there?"

"Yeah. That space goes right forward. You can get loads of stuff in there. It 
will be dark, but we'll get in all right. C'mon!"

The girls looked around to check that the coast was clear, then shimmied 
across the car park to the back of Megan's car. They looked around again.

"You sure it's hers, Suze?"

"Yeah. She's got a personal number plate, MM60. How do we get the lid 
open?"

Pansy pressed the button and the lid sprang open a few inches, then with a 
resigned sort of sigh, it eased itself up almost to the vertical. A little light 
came on inside and the girls looked down in amazement.

"What the fuck are YOU doing in there?"

Anastasia blinked up at them and wiped her eyes. In the light they could 
see her uniform and her face were covered in dust and tears had dried on 
her cheeks.

"Where are we? Is this St Cat's?"

"Course not. This is Lord Ted's. What are you doing in there?"

"I stowed away but I couldn't get out. There's no handle on the inside and 
the light goes off when you close the lid." She began to sob.

The cousins looked down at poor wretched Anastasia. Suzanne had been 
ready to throttle her many a time since her breasts had become so vast, 
but now, Anastasia looked tiny and helpless and utterly miserable.

"Can we come in and join you, Staze?" asked Suzanne. "Please?"

Anastasia said nothing, but squeezed herself over to one side of the 
luggage compartment. Suzanne clambered over the edge and crawled into 
the dusty space.

"Leave room for me!" whimpered Pansy.

The girls shifted around until Pansy could squeeze into a corner. The two 
cousins were on their backs, their heads toward the rear of the car, while 
Anastasia was crouched facing  the front. There was no time to rearrange 
themselves now. Suzanne reached up and pulled the lid down on top of 
them. It was pitch dark and very cramped. Nobody spoke for a very long 
time.

Faintly, the clock struck the quarter.

"It feels as if we've been in here for hours," whispered Pansy.

"I have," Anastasia moaned softly.

"Poor Stazie!" Suzanne tried to touch Anastasia with her hand, but only 
succeeded in poking her in the bottom.

"Ouch, what did you do that for?"

"Sorry!" Silence fell again, and stretched out for minutes. "I am sorry, Staze. 
I've been rotten to you. So has Pansy."

"You speak for youself, Suze," said Pansy. "You were rotten. Just because 
she got bigger tits than you!"

"You were rotten, too. You said she was a stuck-up little shit, always 
sucking up to the teachers to get her own bedroom."

"I did not. That was you."

"You agreed with me."

"Did not!"

"Did!"

"Stop it, both of you," cried Anastasia. "I'm sorry, too. I acted like a stuck-
up little shit. Friends?"

"Friends," said Pansy, rubbing her hand across one of Anastasia's taut 
buttocks in the dark. Anastasia responded by gently cupping Pansy's knee.

"Friends," said Suzanne, with a friendly hand up Anastasia's skirt. "Oooops, 
sorry, Staze!"

"Oooh! It's all right, you can leave it there if you like. I s'pose that's what 
friends are for."


**********

The girls must have dozed off. The car rocked on its springs suddenly, and 
a door slammed like a tomb. Instantly wide awake, they waited for the car 
to start and take them home. They waited.

There seemed to be a certain amount of movement going on, and rustling 
noises from the passenger compartment. There came the sound of low 
voices, whispering.

"What's going on?" hissed Suzanne.

"Stop rocking the car, she'll get suspicious," muttered Pansy.

"I'm not moving. There isn't room in here to rock the car."

"You are. You're feeling Staze up!"

"I know I am, but we're not moving. She's all wet, too. Aren't you, Staze?"

"Mmmmmmmmmm! I'm sopping! You're pretty good, Suzanne."

"See, I told you!"

"Well, who is rocking the car?"

"I reckon it's her. Miss Mountains. She's fucking somebody."

"I wish we could watch," said Anastasia, and the others silently echoed her 
sentiments.

Urgent little cries were filtering through the walls of their prison cell now, 
recognisable as Miss Mountains's voice, and another, hoarse and grunting.

"She's got a boy in here," said Pansy.

"Nice one, Pan, you want to try for the 64,000?"

"Oooh, ooooh, oooooh ooooooh, yesssss!"

"She likes it," said Suzanne, and Anastasia sniggered loudly. "Shhhhh!" 
Suzanne was beginning to feel aroused herself. She ran her free hand 
around the inside of the compartment until she found a spare finger. It 
wiggled. "Who's that?"

"Me!" said Pansy.

"Oh, gross! Where's Anastasia's face?" Suzanne sounded urgent.

"Down here."

"Can you get your head near my pussy, Staze?"

"I can't see."

"You don't need to see. Use your imagination!" There was a certain amount 
of shuffling around, and Suzanne suddenly shuddered. "Ooooh, Staze, yes. 
Use your tongue!"

"What are you two doing?" Pansy demanded.

"Here, Pan," whispered Anastasia, "I've got a spare hand."

"You'd better be quick. Whose tit is this?"

"Mine," said two voices.

"Ooooooooooooooh!" said Miss Mountains, and the car began to buck 
violently to and fro. "Yes, yes YES, you BASTARD!!!!"

"I thought she liked him a minute ago," giggled Suzanne. "Oooh, Anastasia, 
yes, again!"

Another burst of rocking, and the howls and grunts and whimpers 
redoubled, until the greatest simultaneous orgasm since records began 
shattered the silence of the cloisters of Lord Edward's.

"Fucking Hell," said Megan.

"Fucking HELL!" agreed the three little girls in the luggage compartment.

They all lay quietly, exhausted. Eventually, the car rocked gently, and a 
door opened. Soft voices murmured outside, and there was the sound of 
kisses. Then the door slammed with an air of finality, the engine started, 
and there was the not altogether unpleasant sensation of movement in all 
directions at the same time.

And even after the car stopped, and the engine was switched off, and the 
door slammed, and Miss Mountains's heels receded in the distance, none of 
the girls spoke.

"Well, home sweet home!" sighed Suzanne.

"How do we get out of here?" asked Pansy. "I need a piss."

"Don't say that, Pan!" Anastasia groaned. "So do I."

"I think I'm too late," admitted Suzanne. "Although I'm so wet, you'd never 
know. Anyway, we're here until the morning. Either we try to sleep, or ..."

"Or what, Suze, darling?" Anastasia reached out with her tongue again.

"Owowowow!" Pansy howled as Anastasia's fingers found their mark again.

"Oh, bloody hell!" said Anastasia. 

It was a long night, but friends can always keep each other warm.


**********

"Did you hear Smegs come home last night? Must have been midnight."

"She was early, then. She must have been unlucky. Serve her right, the 
slag."

"That's not very nice, Cee!" I stretched. "Coffee?"

"Mmmm! Please."

"Christ, is that the time?" I sat up. "Why couldn't Anastasia wake us up? 
We're late for breakfast and she'll be late for school!" I hurried out into the 
kitchen and stabbed at the kettle switch. "Come on, Staze, get your arse out 
of bed!" I banged on her door.

"Shannie! Shannie, quick!"

When Corinne says something like that, it chills my blood.

"What's the matter?" I dashed out into the bedroom and stared at her. She 
was sitting up in bed with the covers thrown back.

"Look at them!"

Unnecessary Statement Of The Day, Number One. I've mentioned before 
how once a pair of breasts reaches a certain size, it takes a relatively large 
increase to really make a difference. I noticed the difference straight away.

"They're definitely smaller, Cee!"

She got out of bed. "They're the same weight," she said, hefting one of them 
from underneath. It was still huge, but certainly smaller than the day 
before. She could probably get out of the door without help this morning.

"What's happening?" I said. "Do you think they're going back to the size 
they were before?"

"Pass."

"You're sure they're just as heavy, Cee?"

"Feel!"

I felt. They were.

"Gosh!" I said. The kettle came to the boil. "Staze, wake up, darling!" there 
was still no reply.

Her little room was in darkness. It was as well Corinne's breasts had 
become smaller, otherwise she would never have been able to get through 
the kitchen so easily when I screamed. Her bed contained only a pile of 
pillows and a mound of clothes.

"She's gone, Cee!"





Chapter 74:- Crime And Punishment


It could have been far worse. They could have suffocated. Or the police 
might have found them. As it was, Smegs took her car into the town that 
morning for a service, and before she left the service station, she opened 
the lid of the luggage compartment to remove her briefcase.

Fortunately, she had the presence of mind to lower the lid quickly and 
move the car to the other side of the garage forecourt, where she could let 
the girls climb out unobserved. The only problem she had then was to get 
the three kids back to St Cat's without attracting too much public attention. 
That was easier said than done.

Anastasia was in her school uniform, but she was covered in dust. The 
dark skirt and blazer showerd every speck of dirt. Her face was still 
streaked with the tracks of last night's tears of frustration and fright. But if 
Anastasia would have attracted unwelcome attention, the cousins would 
have caused a civil disturbance. Suzanne's day-glo shorts and abbreviated 
top were plastered with dirt. The shorts were heavily crumpled and 
stained with a mixture of Suzanne's juices and Anastasia's saliva. But at 
least she had worn a bra. Pansy's sweater had suffered a rip as she 
scrambled into the back of the car, and it no longer covered her decently. 
Her white knickers were covered in dusty hand-marks, and they were 
only too visible beneath her micro-skirt.

Smegs shoved the kids in the car and called a taxi. And finally, beneath the 
wooden gaze of the taxi driver, she and I covered the two cousins in 
blankets, and shoo-ing Anastasia before us, we hurried to the sanctuary of 
our room.

The three girls were subdued, cold, thirsty and desperately tired. At least, 
they now seemed to be good friends, which was a blessed relief after the 
reports of the previous day. Smegs piled the cousins into her double bed 
and Anastasia finally climbed into hers, but by then it was nearly midday.

We let them sleep until the middle of the afternoon, then brought them 
into our room for a post-mortem.

"I am not certain yet whether or not to tell Miss Thunderbolt about this 
business," I warned them, and the girls hung their heads in triplicate 
shame. It was all I could do not to crack up and laugh at the sight of the 
wretched and desolate trio, but I managed to put the fear of God up them 
without losing my dignity. Shona was summoned and brought the cousins' 
uniforms, and the girls were finally back in the ranks of St Catherine's High 
School for Girls as they trooped away.

The whole story had come out. I even learned the sordid details of the 
goings-on in the back of the car, although those were not revealed until 
Suzanne and Pansy had finally been despatched in disgrace to their 
dormitory. Then Anastasia haltingly told the story, not missing anything 
out. She even gave a passable impersonation of Smegs in the throes of 
orgasm, which I recognised as being the whole truth and nothing but the 
truth.

"Oh, Anastasia! How could you? And after I had given you permission to 
have a tea party in your room."

"It was on the spur of the moment, Miss. Miss Mountains said she was 
going over to Lord Ted's, Miss. And I just did it, same as Clark did." She bit 
her lip. "And I didn't even see him! At least the other two SAW some 
boys."

"Well, yes!" I decided not to pursue the matter of what the other two had 
seen. Time enough for learning of such unpleasant matters when they 
were several years older. "You realise, darling, that you make it very 
difficult now for me to allow any sort of tea party to go ahead? Very 
difficult indeed!"

Anastasia nodded bleakly.

"You aren't to be trusted, are you, Anastasia?"

"No, Miss!"

"Go to your room and stay there for the rest of the afternoon and evening. 
I will see you tomorrow."

"Yes, Miss."


**********

"Honest, Cee! I was nearly cracking up when they told me about the two 
boys in the woods. After they had been building up their hopes for so long, 
two boys finally came along, and ... oh shit!"

"Serves them right, the horny little bitches. I'd have given them a good 
spanking!"

"Gosh, Cee! Would you really?" I thought about it for a while, but 
reluctantly decided this was not the best time to ask her. "And then, poor 
little Staze. She told me how she stowed away, without any idea how she 
was going to get to see Clark even when she got to Lord Ted's, then she 
couldn't get out of the luggage boot, and it was dark and cold. And when 
she did get rescued, who was it but her two mortal enemies!"

"At least they made up their quarrel."

"I gather they got very friendly. I suppose they would, all piled in together 
and Smegs howling away in the back seat. It would have turned me on, 
never mind three sex-starved kids. It's a wonder nobody heard them."

"Where is she? Anastasia?"

"In her room. I nearly broke down and wept while I was telling her off. 
She was so sorry for herself, and I had to tell her she can't have her tea 
party ..."

"You changed your mind? Well, it was a good opportunity to do it, her 
getting into trouble. All's well that ends well, I suppose. Least said, soonest 
mended. Worse things happen at sea. You can't make an omelette without 
breaking eggs."

"I'm starving, Cee! I missed my tea, bollocking those girls."

"We could send out for a Chinese."

"If you're feeling lustful, don't let me stand in your way, Cee, darling. But 
I'd much rather eat. What do you fancy?"

"You mean before supper, or afterwards?"

"Now!"

"How about one of Wun Hung Lo's Banquets for Three Persons?" Corinne 
grinned at me.

"Three persons? You starving or what? Smegs is going out shagging again 
tonight."

"I know, but you're not seriously going to keep that poor kid in her room 
all evening, are you?"

One nice thing about the New Bigger Corinne, or even the New Slightly 
Smaller Bigger Corinne, is that her Number One Hugs are now more like 
Number Tens.


**********

A little crowd gathered round Suzanne's bed as she glumly slumped down. 
Pansy, accompanying her cousin, sat on the floor gazing into space.

"Where have you two been?" demanded Shona, acting as spokesgirl.

"Out!"

"I know that. I brought your clothes over to Miss Meadowlark's room, 
remember? Wherever you two had been, you were dressed as sluts. All 
last night and most of the morning. I don't know what Miss Thunderbolt 
will say."

"She doesn't know," said Suzanne sharply, regretting it immediately.

"Ooooh! Maybe somebody ought to tell her then."

"Just you dare, lard-arse!"

"You can talk. With those day-glo shorts on you looked like a hot-air 
balloon stuffed with suet dumplings."

The other girls liked the imagery of that, and snickered.

"You went out shagging," Shona accused them. Pansy went crimson and 
Shona moved in on the attack. "Look, Pan's gone all red. She knows."

"We didn't," said Pansy. "Leave us alone."

"What's up? Girls not good enough for you, now? Did you find some boys, 
then?"

The audience waited, open-mouthed, for the answer. When it came, it was 
disappointing.

"Fuck off," said Suzanne. "We wouldn't tell you even if we did."

"You wouldn't know what to do if you did find a boy," crowed Shona, 
playing her ace. "I bet you still think you have to sit on their faces!"

The girls shrieked with laughter at the very idea, even those who hadn't a 
clue how to do it anyway.

"Huh!" said Suzanne, with a horrible feeling of doubt.

Pansy looked up at her cousin with a troubled expression. What heresy 
was Shona suggesting?

"Anyway, we did," muttered Suzanne, under her breath.

"What?"

"WE DID! We found a boy. Two. One each. We went into the woods with 
them." Suzanne was telling the truth. It put Shona on the defensive. Her 
lucky probe about sitting on boys' faces had been a chance shot in the 
dark. She was convinced that she was doomed to perpetual virginity. What 
boy would ever want *her* to sit on his face. He would be crushed to death 
after first suffering nameless indignity.

Suzanne sensed her advantage. "Still, Pansy and I know what happened. 
It's no business of yours, Sho-naaah! So there!"

"Where did you find these boys, then? Boys don't hang around the woods 
near St Cat's. Not if they know what's good for them."

Pansy replied, quick as a shot. "We went to Lord Ted's."

The girl known as Goofy mocked her. "Lord Edward's? You can't. It's out of 
bounds. And it's miles away."

"You wish it was your idea, Goof?" sneered Suzanne. "After you saw Staze's 
boyfriend yesterday?"

"I told you it was her boyfriend," boasted Goofy, to nobody in particular.

"She told us there were loads of boys over there," Pansy was elaborating 
dangerously.

"She did not!" Shona was scornful. "You're not even talking to each other, 
since Anastasia got bigger *tits* than you! And YOU!" she added, as 
Suzanne opened her mouth.

"We're talking now. We forgave her," said Pansy.

"And she was so grateful that she told her boyfriend to find us a couple of 
boys to try out," Suzanne ended in triumph. "Although we could have 
found our own any time," she added as an afterthought.

"Did you fuck them?" Shona had admitted defeat.

"A couple of times, I suppose," admitted Pansy, airily. "Maybe more."

"They were asking if there were any more girls like us at St Cat's," said 
Suzanne. "We said there might be!"

"Girls like you, what do you mean?" The question came from the floor of 
the meeting, and was endorsed by the whole circle of eager girls.

"Small girls with huge tits, what do you think? Boys love really small girls 
with gigantic tits."

Shona blushed and hung her head. She had Brobdingnagian tits, but she 
wasn't small by any stretch of the imagination.

"So we said we'd probably be able to find a few, if they were really 
serious. Half a dozen of the bigger titted ones!"

The girls inspected their own chests and each other's, then compared 
themselves to Suzanne and Pansy. They began to melt away back to their 
own beds.

Suzanne nudged Pansy and winked. Her expression said it all. 'We're a 
team. Us and maybe Anastasia.' 


**********

Anastasia studied Corinne and spoke through a mouthful of special fried 
rice.

"Have your boobies got smaller, Miss?"

"Not smaller, Anastasia. Just less big."

Anastasia looked at her, mouthing the words 'less big' to herself. We were 
all sitting or reclining on the rug before the fire. The last of the banquet for 
three was slowly disappearing, but even Anastasia was beginning to blow 
a bit.

"Shall I make you a cup of tea?" she offered, and bounced away into the 
kitchen.

"I suppose it's not good for discipline," I said, "but I'd rather see her happy 
like this."

"Before we know where we are, you'll be letting her have her tea party 
with boys! No will-power, Gruntworthy, that's your trouble."

"No, I suppose not. If you were to invite me to your bed, I wouldn't know 
how to refuse."

"And if I were to order you to suck my nipples?"

"Mm-mm!"

"Wretched woman. I think I will sleep alone for a change." She sat quietly 
for a while. "I wonder if my boobs will get any smaller tonight."

"We'll have to wait and see. Perhaps they'll get smaller and your milk will 
come back. I wouldn't mind."

"It's been nice not having the milk today," she said wistfully. "I mean, it's 
great being suckled, and letting down and everything, but not having to 
stuff tissues down my front was a nice change. Thanks, Anastasia," she 
said, accepting her mug.

I patted the floor next to me and Anastasia curled up contentedly like an 
overgrown puppy dog with her head on my thigh. "Don't get too 
comfortable down there, Missy, it's past your bedtime. Ten minutes, no 
more!"

She was asleep in five minutes.

Corinne and I carried on our conversation in low tones.

"Does Chinese food make you horny?" she said suddenly.

"All food makes me horny, dear."

"No, seriously. Is there something about Chinese food? The rice, or the MSG, 
or something?"

"Well, there an awful lot of Chinese ..."

"Shannie! This last twenty minutes I have had the most amazing feeling. 
Sort of warm and comfortable inside. I want to make love for ever!"

"Golly! Steady on, old thing!"

"It seems to be getting worse. Or better, depending which way you look at 
it. I've been holding it in, but I want to be made love to. Desperately! 
Now!"

She was crawling closer to me, her fingers running up and down my inner 
thigh, tracing spirals on the back of my knee. A little drop of saliva trickled 
from her mouth and her eyes had a look of heavy-lidded lust. She was 
flushed and her lips were full and moist. From where I was , I could only 
see one nipple, and in my estimation, it was fully erect. Corinne was hot.

She had been hot before, but never like this. I felt a bit out of my depth. I 
was supposed to be the one who called the shots round here.

"Cee," I whispered. "Not in front of the children!"

"Put her to bed, quickly!"

"I can't. She's only just fallen asleep down here. She'll need to go to the loo 
before bedtime. Leave her for now."

"I can't last that long, Shannie, please!"

"Cee, you can wait half an hour, surely?"

"I can't wait half a minute, Shan!"

A heavy breast had somehow flopped itself into my lap. Unheeded, it was 
sqashing itself against Anastasia's head. She stirred but didn't wake up.

"I thought those things weren't supposed to be heavy any more," I said 
lightly. "This one's nearly breaking my thigh."

"Now you'll know what it's like carrying them around all day. Kiss me, 
Shan!" She leaned closer. I could smell the scent of her, light and flowery, 
but with a hint of wild animal about it.

I allowed my lips to brush her cheek. It was on fire. "Have you got a 
temperature, darling? I think I've got a thermometer in my desk drawer 
..."

"I'm hot for you, Shannie. Love me now! Now!"

"Oh, bloody hell, Cee. There goes my mug. Look out! Tea spilled across the 
carpet where Anastasia was lying. It spread quickly to where the girl's fat 
breast was compressed beneath her chest. She sat up quickly, pulling her 
soaked nightdress away from her boob.

"Aaargh, look, Miss, what's this?" She pulled the nightie off over her head 
and dropped it on the floor, then dabbed at her damp breast with a tea 
towel.

Corinne gave a low growl in her throat and started to crawl toward the kid. 
Anastasia saw the expression in Corinne's eyes and scooted backwards on 
her bottom with a frightened yelp.

"Stop her, Miss!"

"Cee? Come on!" I grabbed her arm and pulled her back, while Anastasia 
scrambled to her feet. Not taking her eyes off Corinne, she fled into the 
kitchen and closed her bedroom door.

"She's gone," said Corinne, numbly, looking round at me. "What's 
happening, Shan? Hold me tight!"

I needed no second invitation. Corinne's pulse was racing, and she kept 
giving little shivers as I hugged her to me. Gradually, she calmed down in 
my arms, and relaxed.

What was going on? The woman had been off her trolley for several 
minutes. Something seemed to have upset the whole workings of her body.

At least she was asleep now. I stirred the fire and prepared for a long and 
uncomfortable night.





Chapter 75:- Be Prepared


Despite the intimacy of their night in the back of the car, the three First 
Form girls were still unsure of their relationship.

"Hi, Staze," said Suzanne warily. "What are you working on this week?"

"I was going to have another look at my Lube and Steam. Unless you want 
a hand with anything. Like FatLite."

"FatLite?" Pansy approached. "What about FatLite?"

"I rubbed a load on Miss Meadowlark the other night. Now look at her."

Suzanne looked around the lab then said casually. "We meant to ask you 
about that, since you are close to Miss Meadowlark. Which tub did you rub 
on her? Both?"

"What do you mean, both? She only had one."

"Two!"

"One! She brought it in with her one night."

"I know, we mixed it for her and left it out specially under the bushes. Two 
tubs. FatLite and SuperLite."

"She only had one," Anastasia insisted.

She was so certain about it that Suzanne looked at Pansy with doubt on her 
face.

"We put two out for her, didn't we, Pan?"

"You know we did. I carried them both all the way out there."

"Do you think one is still there, Pan?"

"I don't know. You'd better go and find out."

Anastasia had thought of something else. "You'd better find out which one 
it was she had, as well. It's having some strange effects. Apart from 
making her huge and light, she's got smaller since, and last night she 
scared the shits out of me. She was going to rape me. I only just escaped."

"Miss Meadowlark was going to rape you?" said Pansy, sounding excited.

"She crawled after me when I took my nightie off. You should have see her 
eyes. Like a wild animal. I ran away."

"We'd better go and find that tub now, before Miss Gruntworthy arrives. 
C'mon, Pan. You coming, Staze?"

"No, I'll wait here."

The cousins were back in five minutes with a plastic tub. Suzanne dumped 
it on the bench.

"There you are, look. The top was off it, and it's full of rain water, but it's 
the one I sploshed on Pansy's tits and it made her Uncontrollably Horny. 
She slept with Shona."

"You did?" said Anastasia with interest. "What is she like?"

"Milky."

"It made you horny, this one? And the one, the other one I rubbed on Miss 
Meadowlark, made her horny, too, after a couple of days, and it made her 
tits gigantic first. So which one is FatLite?"

"Neither," said Pansy. "FatLite doesn't make you grow. It makes you 
lighter. You need SuperLite afterwards to make you grow."

"You screwed up, Pan."

"If you say that once more ...!"

"You did. You made it with cow's milk and sugar."

"Did you?" Anastasia said. "Why?"

"I didn't have any Shona-milk." Pansy blushed at the memory. "So I used 
sugar and milk instead. It's nearly the same. It tastes the same!"

"Whatever you did, it made it work all wrong. You'd better throw it away 
and start again." Anastasia picked up the rain-filled tub of cream and 
swished it about doubtfully.

"We can't make any more," Pansy said mournfully. "No more Shona-milk."

"We had an argument," Suzanne explained. "It was about boys. The boys of 
Lord Edward's."

"What about them?" said Anastasia. "You never fucked any."

"We saw some. And Shona doesn't know we didn't fuck any. I didn't lie to 
her. Did I, Pan?"

"Not quite. But she's still not going to give us any milk."

"She'd give me some," said Anastasia. "She's still my friend."

"Wait a minute," Suzanne interjected. "What do we want more milk for? 
We don't need any more of the stuff, do we?"

"It would be handy. When it works properly, it works fine." Pansy jerked a 
thumb at Anastasia. "Look at Staze. She's almost perfect."

"What do you mean, 'almost'?"

"Well, perfect, then. You've got terrific boobs, Staze. They could be the 
biggest in the world one day."

"That's what Clark said." Anastasia had gone all dewy-eyed and dreamy.

"We don't want to hear about Clark," said Suzanne grumpily. She sat and 
stared at her exercise book for a minute. "When can we go to Lord Ted's 
again? We can plan it properly next time."

"We don't need to," said Anastasia. "Lord Ted's can come to us! I'm having 
a tea-party. In my room. Would you like to come?"

The cousins hesitated.

"There'll be boys!"

"When is it?"

"Sunday. Toots will be there, too, I hope. Miss Gruntworthy said just six of 
us, three girls and three boys, but if you two come, and we leave out 
Shona, and have an extra boy, it won't be too crowded in there with eight 
of us. You'll come, then?"

"Yeah!"

"Good. I'll tell Miss Gruntworthy when she comes in. All we need to do is 
arrange for Clark to bring three of his friends."

"Gosh," said Suzanne, "just like that?"

"Why not? You only have to ask for these things, and they happen!"


**********

It had been a long night, but I finally got Corinne to bed at around 2 am, 
by which time the Uncontrollable Horniness had worn off her. And the 
following morning, her breasts were down another foot or so. She was still 
far bigger than her previous size, and miles bigger than me, but she looked 
altogether more compact and transportable than before. If she wanted, she 
could now almost get both her boobs into one wheelbarrow, and going 
through doors was no problem at all, provided the doors were wide 
enough.

She still drew attention in the restaurant, but that was partly the effect of 
the Microbus dress, which she still wore because nothing else fitted her. I 
wished Clit had found something less lurid, but apparently there is no 
demand for it.

I was late arriving at the lab for the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group 
and the first period of the day. It was touching and pleasant to see 
Anastasia and the two cousins laughing and talking together.

"Suze and Pan are coming to my tea-party on Sunday," Anastasia 
announced, without warning. "If I call Toots, Miss, would you phone Lord 
Edward's and order Clark and three boys?"

"WHAT?"

She repeated her statement almost word for word. She must have been 
rehearsing it. For some reason, I agreed, and Anastasia shot away to the 
public call-box to speak to Toots, leaving me to get in touch with Lord 
Edward's.

The other girls watched her with their mouths open, probably wondering 
how Anastasia managed to get her breasts to bounce like that.

"About the four boys. I'll have to go through Miss Mountains," I said 
weakly.

"Well, that's all right, then. You can do it now, Miss," said Suzanne. "She just 
walked in!"

Smegs would know what to do.

"This weekend?" she said. "It's a bit short notice, isn't it? Can't she wait 
another week?"

"Wait, Smegs? Girls that age don't know the meaning of the word. They 
seriously want to get themselves laid."

"By four boys? Including Clark Vincent? What sort of a name is Clark 
Vincent, anyway?"

"It's the name he's stuck with, Smegs. I blame his mother. Please, Smegs! 
Anastasia wants Clark, and if you can get three of his friends, that way 
we'll be sure not to get three raving poofters, won't we!"

"That's true. Lord Ted's seems to be a school well blessed with more than 
its share of irons."

"Irons?"

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "Iron hooves, Shan. Pooves. Poofters. 
Queers. All right." She sighed heavily. "I'll phone straight away. There was 
someone I wanted to speak to over there anyway. What time's the party?"

"Dunno. Say two o' clock. That will give them time for games before tea."

"Shan! Are you fully aware of what you are letting yourself in for? They'll 
be playing games all right."

"Good. I'd thought of Scrabble or Monopoly."

"I think we can just let them find their own amusements."

Anastasia came bouncing back. Those things bounced right up as high as 
her shoulders and down as far as her tummy. I'd have to have a word with 
Clit about her bra.

"Toots is coming," she squeaked, and the rest of the class looked round at 
her. They all nudged each other and giggled. "She's getting Nigel to bring 
her over at one o' clock." She came to a breathless halt, still bouncing 
gently. Eventually, Suzanne put both her hands out and steadied them.

Anastasia watched her with surprise. "Wow, thanks Suze. I'll do the same 
for you one day." She looked at me. "Did you get the boys yet?"

"Not yet. Miss Mountains is going to call Lord Edward's right away. She 
knows about Clark and she'll ask for him and his friends."

"Oh, good. Toots was asking about boys. She said she could bring some if I 
liked. She said she could get ten or twenty, but she'd need to get a bus. I 
said no, I'd only got a small room."

"That's right, Anastasia, twenty boys would be a bit of a crowd. I hope you 
thanked her nicely and said you would provide the boys."

"Yes, Miss." Anastasia glowed with virtue. "But she said Nigel could collect 
the boys from Lord Ted's in Toots's car. And he could take them back when 
we'd finished with them."

"How kind. What do you think, Smegs? Transport provided. I think the 
headmaster of Lord Edward's would be most pleased."

"Perhaps it would be better if Professor Garibaldi didn't get involved, Shan. 
I will deal at a lower level, nearer the coal-face, the socio-sexual interface."

What on earth was she talking about?


**********

Anastasia was making a list.

"Shall we get chef to make a special cake?" I said, "and you can have trifle 
and ice cream and little sausage rolls and bits of cheese and pineapple on 
sticks."

She looked at me with horror. "This is a grown-ups' party, Miss. The boys 
are going to be nearly fifteen. We're not going to have time for cake and 
stuff. We'll be too busy fucking."

Gulp.

"They're boys, darling! They'll expect to have food first. That is, they'll 
expect to have food. They eat like pigs. Like girls. You'll need lots of food 
for when you're not fuc ... when you're not kissing and cuddling and doing 
anything else."

"You mean we can kiss and cuddle as well, Miss?" She flung her arms 
around my neck and squashed her tits and lips against me. "I love you, 
Miss! I thought we would only be allowed to eat and fuck, but we're 
allowed to snog as well? Golly. I'm going to kiss Clark, and cuddle him, too. 
This is going to be ever such a fun party."

"Good. You can do a little bit of kissing and cuddling, but don't be surprised 
if the boys just want to eat all the time. That's why you need cake and 
stuff. I'll ask chef, okay?"

"All right, Miss. And if there's anything left over, we can clear it all up 
after we've got rid of the boys. I suppose they won't be allowed to sleep 
over?"

"No, they have to be at school on Monday morning, and so do you. They 
will want to get back and tell all their friends about it, same as you."

"I suppose so. Should we take my bed out to make more room, Miss? We 
could cover the floor with cushions and bean-bags and stuff."

A good idea, I thought. The presence of the bed had been worrying me. It 
would put pressure on the kids to use it. "Good idea, Staze. We can put it in 
the store room."

"Oooh, fine, Miss! Then we won't get juice and come all over it. Is that a 
real word, Miss? Can you use the word 'come' as a noun, Miss, or is it 
always a verb?"

"That's a good question, dear, I think you can use it as either. Sometimes 
it's spelled 'cum', but it's better not to mess around with the language like 
that. It's difficult enough for foreigners as it is."

Anastasia made a note in her English exercise book. She's such a 
conscientious girl.


**********

The dreadful girl had us out of our beds at seven o' clock on Sunday 
morning. I had to go and see the chef and see about the cake and the 
buffet things. He slung me out of his kitchen with a volley of ripe French 
oaths. I gathered that the food would be delivered in time for the arrival 
of the guests, and that I would be well advised to leave him to slave over 
his hot stove in peace.

"Everything's going to be all right, Anastasia," I reported. "Can I go back to 
bed, now?" Corinne, I observed, was still tucked up cosily.

"No, Miss. I need you to help me choose my clothes. I've got nothing that's 
really nice enough for a party with boys." Her entire wardrobe was laid out 
on her bed. I had to watch while she tried on a selection of ill-fitting and 
outgrown little-girl clothes. She was becoming increasing bad-tempered 
and fretful.

"Put that lot away and get your jeans on. We'll put your bed in the store 
room, then you can go to the dorm and borrow some clothes from Suzanne 
and Pansy." That got rid of her for an hour or more, and I crawled back 
into bed with Corinne.

"Your knees are cold," she complained. "Get out."

"Aren't you getting up?" I asked, fetching her a mug of coffee.

She stretched, but kept the covers pulled well up to her chin. She looked 
comfortable, and somehow bigger than before. "I thought I might stay in 
bed all day," she drawled lazily. "You can bring me things from time to 
time, if you like. Little delicacies like food and drink. Perhaps one of 
Anastasia's boys, if there's one I fancy ..."


**********

Anastasia arrived back from the dorm at just before one o' clock.

"You're wearing that?" Did I sound like a disapproving mother?

"You like?" She paraded herself cautiously. "The top belongs to Suzanne, so 
it's only a little bit too small." Yeah, only a matter of about fifteen inches.

"What do you think of the pants? They're Goofy's. She hasn't dared wear 
them yet." One could see Goofy's point in that. I imagined that Goofy was 
slimmer than Anastasia, as the pants were excruciatingly tight across the 
rump and appallingly brief around the top of the loose-cut legs. I could 
easily have inserted the whole of my hand. So could anyone else. The very 
thought made me shudder.

"They look lovely, Anastasia, but I think Miss Mountains might prefer it if 
you wore knickers underneath them."

"I tried, Miss, but honestly, there wasn't room. I'll be careful, though, Miss. 
I'll try not to leak too badly."

That was possibly the most encouraging news I had heard all day. The 
arrival of Suzanne and Pansy soon put a damper on it. Pansy was wearing 
sort of stretchy pants which came down to her calves. She must have 
grown since she bought them.

"I borrowed these from Goofy, Miss," she explained. "She hasn't dared wear 
them yet so I said I'd break them in for her." She was probably not far off 
the mark. They were almost exploding, but if they did split under the 
pressure of too much Pansy, they wouldn't fly apart completely. There was 
too much of the material finding its way into various nooks and crannies 
for that. I tore my eyes away from her lower half and tried to concentrate 
on the top. My eyes glazed over by the time they reached her bare navel, 
which she had decorated with what looked like a glace cherry. God knew 
how she had stuck it there. As a result, I barely noticed the top, which 
hung from her quivering breasts like a pelmet.

"Don't tell me, that's Goofy's, too?"

"Silly, Miss!" Pansy's face was flushed with excitement. "It's mine. It fitted 
before Christmas. Can you believe it!"

Suzanne, to my relief, was dressed conservatively. Quite why she had 
chosen a one-piece black swimsuit for a tea-party was another matter 
entirely. "It's Goofy's," she whispered to me.

"I bet she's never dared to wear it."

"No, Miss. I don't know why. It's ever so stretchy. It nearly fits even *my* 
bust!" She tucked a few curves away and I watched them pop out 
elsewhere. "It's not too tight round the arse, is it?"

It was, but I hadn't the heart to tell her. It would probably come off later 
anyway, as she told me matter-of-factly.

I backed out of the room, feeling faint.

"They've surpassed themselves," said Corinne from the bed. "I never 
thought they could have looked even dirtier than they looked after a night 
fingering each other in the back of Megan's car, but they have proved me 
wholly wrong!"

"We haven't seen Toots yet. I shudder to think what she will be like."

There was a polite pounding on the door.

"Enter!" called Corinne in her most refined voice.

"I come right up, Miss Gruntworthy," said Toots. "I know de way. I sent 
Nigel arf to get de boys."

She pranced into the room, and relief flooded into me. Toots was sheathed 
from neck to ankle in a purple knitted dress. It clung to every stupendous 
curve, yet revealed nothing. Even her arms were covered, down as far as 
her wrists, where she jangled with enormous metal bracelets. On her feet 
she wore high-heeled pumps which raised her to a towering four feet nine 
or more, and she looked even taller with her hair piled on top of her head.

Her slightly slanted eyes sparkled at me. "What you tink? I bought it 
special."

"You look fantastic, Toots!"

"Hey, tanks, Miss. My dressmaker know what she doin'."

"You'd better go through and meet the others. You will probably make 
quite an impression!"

"I'd better get up and get dressed for the boys," sighed Corinne. "The only 
thing is, I'm just a little bit worried about whether I'll still be able to 
squeeze into my Microbus dress!"

"Cee? What do you mean?"

She rolled out of bed and stood up, naked.

And I saw exactly what she meant.





Part XXVI





Chapter 76:- Now Is The Time For All Good Men To Come


"Please, Miss?"

It was the girl known to her friends as Goofy. Knowing half the contents of 
her wardrobe, I looked on her in a new light. So this was the Goofy who 
had purchased such an array of sexually explicit clothing which she had 
never dared to wear. I looked her up and down, from her curiously 
straight hair and prominent teeth to her large splayed feet. What lay in 
between these outposts was of little note.

"Yes, Goofy?"

She blushed at being addressed thus by a member of the teaching staff. 
One presumed she had another name. "The girls' boys are here, Miss. Down 
below." It seemed that the expression 'down below' had some inner 
meaning for her, because she turned almost incandescently scarlet.

"Would you mind showing them up, Goofy, please?"

"You mean, you want me to talk to them, Miss?" Her face registered stark 
terror.

"That will probably be necessary, Goofy. Say to them, 'would you come this 
way, please?'"

"Would ... you ... come ...?" She repeated the words as if she was committing 
them to memory, but she got no further than 'come' before moaning like a 
sick sheep. "Miss, I can't!"

"They won't bite you, Goofy. Just smile at them and ask them to walk this 
way. Tell you what, here's a secret. Pick out the nicest one and smile at 
him, forget the others."

"Oh, Miss!" She was actually trembling.

"Go on. Just do it." I gave her hand a squeeze. It was like a recently 
deceased fish.

A few minutes later, there was a polite knock, and there they were, 
fronted by their spokesman and spiritual leader.

"Hello, Clark," I said as brightly as possible. He shook hands and aimed a 
kiss at my nose. It would probably take him some time to perfect the 
technique, especially with fuller figured women. At least he didn't 
overbalance into my cleavage.

Perhaps I ought to have worn a bra under my extra huge T-shirt. All four 
boys were gaping at me in sheer disbelief. Clark looked me straight in the 
nipples and introduced his three friends as Peregrine, Barnaby and 
Augustine.

"I do so hope we're not excessively premature, Miss Gruntworthy," Clark 
said.

"No, do come in. This is Miss Meadowlark, whom you have met, Clark. 
Corinne, Clark you know, Peregrine, Barnaby and Augustine."

"Jeezus!" she said, a little rudely, I thought.

The four of them looked at Corinne in awe. Evidently Clark had done his 
best to describe Corinne and me as well as Anastasia, but in Corinne's case, 
he had clearly fallen short. Peregrine and Barnaby immediately clutched at 
their groins in some haste, Augustine looked as if he had been too late. 

Augustine was the easiest for me to identify, as he was black. I know, I 
know! It is unfashionable to suggest such a thing, but when I am 
confronted by three white boys and one black one, I find I can recognise 
which one is black without remarking upon his hairstyle. The other three, 
the pink ones, could well have been interchangeable clones. I suppose that 
wouldn't matter once the action started next door. They were in no hurry 
to meet their hosts at the moment. There was more than enough to feast 
their eyes on in here.

Ever since Corinne had got out of bed, I had been doing much the same 
thing. Feasting my eyes. I know I have mentioned this before, but once a 
woman's bust reaches a certain size, it requires a relatively large increase 
for it to show. Blah, blah.

It showed.

Corinne had just about squeezed herself into the Microbus dress, but it was 
perilously tight across the bust, and the front had pulled up so far in the 
process of accommodating her bosom that the material had wrapped 
tightly beneath the taut curves of her bottom. She looked impossibly huge. 
She smiled at the boys, and I expected them to melt into four little pools of 
blubber on the carpet.

They nudged each other and Clark suddenly remembered something. From 
beneath his jacket he produced a neatly-wrapped parcel tied with an 
elaborate bow of gold ribbon. 

"Some chocolates for you and Miss Gruntworthy," he said, with a little 
inclination of the head, not taking his eyes off Corinne's breasts for a 
second.

"I suppose you will be wanting to see the girls," cooed Corinne. "They are 
all ready for you."

There was a groan from one of the clones, and it was echoed and taken up 
by the others.

"Come this way, then, boys," I said, and opened the kitchen door before 
knocking on the other one. There was a sound like a stampede of chickens 
on the other side of the door, then - with a waft of feminine fragrance - it 
finally opened a few inches and one of Anastasia's breasts peeped out. I 
suppose her face peeped out as well, but her breast was all I noticed, and I 
was pretty sure the boys were right with me in that. And either Anastasia 
had grown a bit since I had seen her earlier, or Suzanne's loaned top had 
lost some of its resilience. Anastasia's nipple was inside the top, but it was 
a close run thing.

Her eyes widened as she took in the boys, her face reddening rapidly; then 
she opened the door wide, and the eight of them confronted each other. 
The boys were in their Lord Edward's School uniforms, with the optional 
long trousers. The girls were as previously specified. Yet all eight of the 
youngsters were immediately impressed.

I could tell that much.

I closed the door and collapsed into an armchair, with Corinne fanning my 
face with a newspaper.


**********

"Would you like some cake?" Anastasia blurted, as soon as the door closed.

"Thank you, but we just had luncheon," said Clark. "But later, perhaps, it 
looks delicious."

"Yes, okay," Anastasia mumbled.

"I'd better introduce my friends: Augustine, this is Anastasia ..."

"Suzanne," said Suzanne. 

"Pansy," said Pansy.

"Toots! Hey, I ain't havin' de token black one, you guys. I fancy *him*!" 
Toots indicated Peregrine, who turned several shades of pink at the same 
time. "What's your name, boy?"

"Peregrine. You can call me Perry."

"C'mere, Perry, make yourself comfortable." And Toots did her best to put 
her guest at his ease, somehow relieving him of his tie and jacket within 
five seconds and dumping him on a bean-bag. "I gotta get this dress off, it 
will crease," she said. Within a moment, it was neatly on a hanger and 
Toots, in matching purple underwear, was astride Perry's loins and 
stroking his chest in a manner which suggested that she was in no mood to 
be denied.

The other boys watched her performance with horror. Who was next?

The girls looked on with amazement at Toots's no-nonsense urgency. They 
were also staggered by her figure. Seeing the little black girl undressed for 
the first time was an experience. She shone as if polished, as if she had just 
emerged from a car-wash. Seen from behind, which was the way everyone 
was viewing her - apart from the fortunate Perry - her compact yet 
somehow plump and immensely powerful buttocks tapered in to a 
muscular-looking back. But even her back view could do little to hide those 
fantastic tits. All twelve hooks of her workmanlike bra were stretched to 
the limit as she slowly eased her weight down on to Perry's boyhood.

Pansy, turned on powerfully by the sight of Toots getting down to work, 
surprised herself. She took Augustine's hand without a word and led him 
to a corner of the room by the window where she backed him against the 
wall, pushed herself insistently against him and began rubbing her hands 
up and down his chest inside his school blazer. Predictably, Augustine 
found this rather exciting.

Clark saw his options being whittled away and immediately clung to 
Anastasia. Seeing himself now as a confirmed big-breast man, and 
surrounded by four of the biggest busts he had ever seen in his short life, 
he found himself hugging what was without a doubt and by a considerable 
margin the biggest of the lot. 

Anastasia saw herself as a romantic. The sort of girl who stowed away in 
the luggage compartment of cars to be near her lover - who was the sort of 
boy who stowed away in the luggage compartment of cars. She clung to 
Clark and they managed to exchange a kiss with only the faintest collision 
of their glasses.

All of which left Suzanne feeling outraged. *She* was surely entitled to 
first choice. She was left with a nerd called Barnaby. "Hello, Suzanne," he 
piped, in an unbroken voice. "Lovely weather we're having?"

Suzanne tried to pull her swimsuit straps up tight to cover more of herself, 
but there was really far too much of her to conceal. Barnaby watched her 
with growing embarrassment, feeling his erection becoming more and 
more uncomfortable. A quick glance around the room showed him Perry 
with his head practically in Toots's mouth, Pansy apparently climbing up 
Augustine's body and Clark getting on extremely intimate terms with 
Anastasia. Barnaby's erection changed its mind and lay down damply 
against his inner thigh.

Suzanne pouted and sat down to sulk in the middle of the floor. As soon as 
her bottom hit the cushions, both her breasts heaved violently upwards, 
plopped out of the top of her swimsuit and lay in her lap. They were far 
too big to hide, so she buried her face in her hands instead. Her breasts, 
with no-one looking after them, rolled out of her lap to rest on the floor on 
either side of her hips.

Not in his wildest schoolboy silicone fantasies had Barnaby seen anything 
even remotely approaching the size of Suzanne's escaping floppers. His 
erection reported briefly for duty, then spent itself in ten seconds of eye-
wateringly spontaneous activity. What felt to him like a gallon of bodily 
fluid was oozing around in his underpants. It was already starting to 
freeze.

"Oh, shit!" he muttered under his breath. If he had not been such a well 
brought-up boy, he would probably have said it out loud.

He sighed, feeling appallingly sticky and uncomfortable, and wished he 
could cry. Over by the wall, Toots was now bucking and squirming 
frantically on top of Perry. Barnaby stared at them, fascinated, wondering 
how his friend Perry had learned to do that so quickly. Quite a dark horse, 
Peregrine.

Suzanne was watching them, too. Toots and Perry were where the best of 
the action was happening. As Suzanne watched, she saw Toots raise her 
weight from the boy's lap and whip her panties down over her well-
rounded rump with smooth, practised ease. And in a single, sinuous 
movement, she positioned herself above him, then sat down, carefully but 
very decisively. Perry's arms and legs tensed, then relaxed, and after a few 
experimental little bunny hops, Toots began an up and down movement 
which Suzanne found almost hypnotic.

Toots had done this before. She knew exactly what she was doing. 
Realisation began to dawn on Suzanne. All these months, she'd had entirely 
the wrong idea about sex. She felt her face become hot and she began to 
cast her mind back, trying to remember how many times - and to how 
many of her friends - she had insisted that fucking was all about sitting on 
a boy's nose. The answer, she realised with despair, was too many to count. 
Suzanne would never be able to hold up her face in public again. But 
meanwhile, her fingers went in search of pleasure, and she found herself 
juicy and ready. 

Ready for what? All that was on offer was the appalling Barnaby. She 
looked up at him. He was watching the sideshow, licking his lips with a far-
off expression. He wasn't a bad-looking boy. It occurred to Suzanne that 
Barnaby was probably just as much a stranger to sex as she was herself. 
She wondered if *he* knew how it was done.

On an impulse, she reached out and touched his leg. He jumped as if he had 
been shot. But when she smiled up at him, and invitingly patted the 
cushion beside her, Barnaby sat down.

He sat down as if lowering himself naked on to broken bottles, and he 
could perhaps have sat a little closer; but it was a start, and when Suzanne 
picked up her breast and loaded it back into her lap again, he actually 
crept to within a couple of feet of her. Better than nothing, thought 
Suzanne. She took the boy's hand and together they watched a true expert 
at work.

They were just in time.

Toots had made her selection with the aid of her vast experience. She had 
unerringly picked out the boy with the thickest cock. If it had been twice 
as thick, it would still have been an easy fit for Toots, but her muscle 
control - renowned through three counties - saw her through. Her first aim 
was to finish Perry off, not so she could move on to another boy, but so 
that he would last longer during the main event.

Toots began to squeak with each thrust, a strange, unearthly sound which 
drew the attention of all the occupants of the bedroom. Perry cast off his 
inhibitions and joined her with a syncopated bleating. It was all strangely 
embarrassing. Mercifully, it didn't last too long.

With a final lingering howl, Toots collapsed forward on top of Parry and 
began showering his surprised face with burning kisses. She whispered 
little words in his ear which made him smirk stupidly and look oddly 
pleased with himself.

In that position, with Toots leaning forward like that, the other three 
couples had a clear view of Perry's shaft buried almost to the hilt in the 
girl. Everything down there looked terribly sordid and hairy. For the boys, 
advanced biology had never been like this. For the St Cat's girls, this sort of 
thing was reserved for the Third Form Sex classes. Probably the most 
frequently asked question would have been 'What did it feel like - did it 
hurt?'

Pansy, in her turn, had picked up one or two pointers from watching Toots, 
but she wasn't quite sure how to do it standing up. "Do you want to lie 
down, Augustine?" she murmured huskily.

"Sure, why not?" Augustine was game for anything this lusty little girl 
wanted. He took her in his arms and guided her into the corner behind the 
chest of drawers. Pansy felt his hands roaming across her boobs. His hands 
slid down her sides and cupped her buttocks. It felt reasonably pleasant, 
until he lifted her and held her quivering body against his hardness. Her 
feet were off the floor!

Things were not going quite as expected. "Suze?"she whimpered, but 
Augustine silenced her with a kiss. Practising kissing with Anastasia had 
never been like this. Wow! That part was! A tongue probed into her mouth. 
She thought of biting it, but her own tongue was having too much fun, and 
her nipples were all tingly and her pussy was wet. What the hell, she 
thought.

"Let's lie down, Augustine," she whispered softly, "grab some of those 
cushions, I don't think Suzanne will miss them ..."


**********

Meanwhile, another couple were taking their first faltering steps.

"Clark!"

"Anastasia!"

"Oooh, Clark!"

"Ooooooh, Anastasia!"

They had spent the past few days practising breathing each other's names. 
Practice makes perfect, after all.

"You have the most fantastic boo ... ti ... breasts, Anastasia!" 

Breasts! He called them breasts. My breasts! It felt so ... so grown up.

"They are the biggest I have ever seen."

"Do you really want to see them, Clark? They are even bigger, naked!"

"Oh, Anastasia!"

"Oh, Clark! Lie down with me on this bean-bag."

They lay side by side - at a distance dictated by the sheer volume of 
Anastasia's breasts - and Clark eventually found his short-sighted way into 
Anastasia's bursting top. Meanwhile, Anastasia, intent on doing things 
according to her very own script, found her nimble-fingered way into 
Clark's grey school flannel trousers. Her hand emerged clutching its prize. 
Then driven by some primitive urge, she opened her mouth wide and took 
him into her. It tasted a little like cheese, she thought.


**********

Suzanne gazed at Barnaby. Barnaby squeezed her hand for the fortieth 
time.

"That cheesecake looks nice," he said. "Would you like a slice?"


**********

"They're terribly quiet, Cee!"

"Probably playing Monopoly."

"As soon as I finish sewing this panel, I'm going to have a peep at them, 
the little darlings."

"Don't you dare move from this room until you've finished both sides, you 
ratbag. This is the only dress that fits me. Until it's back together, you're 
not going anywhere!"

I began to wish I hadn't volunteered to sew extra panels into the sides of 
the Microbus dress. At a pinch, Corinne could have worn it tomorrow. But 
once we had started, we had to finish.

It was another hour before it was all together in one piece and Corinne was 
able to put it back on. It fitted as if she was made to measure for it.

"You look stunning, Cee!"

"Thanks to you, dear." She kissed me wetly. "You can go and spy on the 
kiddywinks now, darling! And make me a cup of coffee. I'll never get 
through that doorway."

I sneaked to Anastasia's door and turned the handle silently. Then I 
hesitated. What if they were playing Monopoly? What if I opened the door 
and found them all sitting looking up at me? Should I knock? Yes!

I knocked silently. There was no voice inviting me to come in. I turned the 
handle and eased the door open.

A scene from an ancient Roman orgy was being played out before me. It 
was impossible to take in all at once. It seared itself on to my mind in a 
succession of fleeting images. Over in the corner, a black boy's unclothed 
bottom was plunging up and down in an unmistakeable action. Augustine, 
I surmised. Somewhere beneath him, I could only assume, was a girl. But 
which one? 

A quick stock-check revealed Toots, startlingly, wonderfully and 
spectacularly naked, riding another boy. She was on top and facing toward 
his knees. Strange how little pictures stick in the mind. Toots's purple 
dress was dangling on its hanger, swaying gently to the rhythm of its 
owner's thrusting.

Over by the other wall, on her hands and knees, was Anastasia, chewing 
her lower lip, her breasts actually reaching to the floor. Clark - wearing his 
glasses, I was pleased to observe - was inside her up to the hilt. His balls 
slapped against her rump at every enthusiastic stroke. That's my girl, 
Anastasia, I thought, already discovering the mutual joys of doing it 
doggie-style.

And in the middle of the floor, her eyes glazed, sat Suzanne, her swimsuit 
top pulled down from her shoulders and her breasts lying massively in her 
lap. Barnaby was sitting quite close to her, reading aloud to her from a 
Science textbook.

The air was heavy with the musk of sex.

I closed the door, making a mental note that by a process of elimination, 
the first girl, the one being most heartily rodgered by Augustine, must be 
Pansy. Poor old Pansy, I thought: Augustine's bottom had seemed to be 
rising and falling at least nine inches. It was true, what people sometimes 
said.

"How are they doing?" asked Corinne.

"Quite well," I answered faintly. "All except for Suzanne. She seems to have 
drawn the short straw."





Chapter 77:- It's My Party And I'll Cry If I Want To


"I'm not going back in there, Cee! It's too dreadful to contemplate."

"You have to. I can't get my tits through the door."

"I wonder if Smegs ..."

"No, she went out earlier. I heard her car leaving."

"It's all her fault. She arranged for the boys ..."

"Only because you told her to. You have to stop them. Go in, cough politely 
and tell them it's time they had their tea."

"I can't see that being too popular, Cee."

"No, nor can I. But you can't have them screwing the whole afternoon 
away. What about when they get pregnant?"

"Cee, no! Surely they aren't old enough?"

"They're certainly more than big enough. Do you know if they've started 
their periods yet?"

"Nurse would know."

"Oh, sure. Go and find Nurse on a Sunday afternoon. Tell her there are four 
Junior girls ..."

"Three ...!"

"... three Junior girls getting fucked in one of the bedrooms in the staff 
quarters and please, can you tell me if they have started menstruating 
yet? Shannie, get your arse in there and shout at them. Blow a whistle. 
Clap."

"Clap? Don't even mention that word!"

"Let's just hope they've had the sense to use some protection."

"At least, Suzanne hasn't needed any. She's found a true gentleman. Poor 
Suzanne!"

"Get in there, Shan, or I will never speak to you again!"

"I'm going, I'm going!"


**********

I knocked softly on the door. Anastasia's voice said, "come in Miss 
Gruntworthy."

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I cautiously pushed the door open and 
gasped at the scene spread out before me.

Pansy and Augustine were sitting side by side in the corner, sharing a 
large slice of cheesecake with two forks. They were feeding each other, the 
way lovers do.

Anastasia moved amongst the others, handing out plates of pastries and 
cakes. The others thanked her politely. Where was Clark? He looked 
subdued, exhausted, even, but he was eating a chunk of apple pie, 
smothered in suggestive-looking whipped cream.

Toots and Peregrine were playing cards, a simple game involving slapping 
cards down and grabbing at the pile.

Suzanne was demonstrating to Barnaby how to make a cat's cradle. The 
string had slipped off two of her fingers and she was giggling as he tried to 
loop it back into position for her.

All of the children were fully dressed, at least, as decently dressed as 
when they had arrived. Correction: Toots was wrapped in one of 
Anastasia's largest T-shirts.

It was no more than five minutes since my previous visit. I rubbed my 
eyes and gasped again. Anastasia brought me a slice of cake. "Take one for 
Miss Meadowlark, as well, Miss. It's really tasty!"

I sniffed the air. There was just a hint of fishiness, but that could have 
been the plate of salmon, cucmber and mayonnaise sandwiches. Someone 
had opened the window, probably Pansy, the nearest. Her nipples, I 
noticed, were like clothes pegs beneath her straining cut-off top.

So, too, were Toots's, except that hers were more like wine corks. She 
wasn't wearing a bra under Anastasia's T-shirt.

Anastasia, too, was obviously feeling the effect of the cool breeze. That 
low-cut, scoop-necked top belonging to Suzanne was practically splitting in 
two strategic places.

Suzanne's nipples, as far as I could tell, were in a state of non-arousal.

There was a waste-bucket by the door. I looked into it, then did a double-
take. Along with what seemed like the contents of a family economy-sized 
pack of Kleenex lay a dribbling heap of rubberware in a variety of designs.

Anastasia noticed the direction of my gaze. "We'll throw them all out later, 
Miss, when we're finished. Unless you think Miss Mountains might want 
them for any reason."

"No, dear, I think Miss Mountains prefers to use a new one each time."

Carrying my two slices of cake, I backed out of the room.


**********

"She won't be back for ages," said Pansy, shrugging out of her clothes. She 
was ready for action in seconds. "You ready, Oggie, or you fancy a change 
of scene?"

"I'll sit this one out," said Augustine, most sportingly, "who wants Pan?"

"Me, please!" offered Perry. "If that's all right with you, Toots?"

"Sure, baby. If Anastasia can spare Clark for a bit?"

"No problem. Come back to me later, sweetiepops, please?"

"Of course I will, honeybunch!"

Anastasia looked around and her eyes lit up. "Barnaby, come and have a go 
with me," she whispered seductively, and Barnaby blushed, but got up and 
accompanied Anastasia to her own pile of beanbags and cushions. "My 
little pussy's a bit sore, but you can slip it in here!" She indicated her 
daunting cleavage.

There was a quick, urgent rustling as clothes were discarded. "Darling, your 
pants are all soaked," Anastasia cooed. "What *have* you been doing?"

"Nothing!" Barnaby insisted quite truthfully.

Augustine sat next to Suzanne.

"You've got that string in a real tangle, Suze," he said helpfully. "Let me 
give you a hand!"

Within a minute, Pansy was lowering her fragrant and still-sopping snatch 
on to Peregrine's newly-aroused member. "Ouch, you're so thick," she 
yelped.

Toots lay on her back with her hands clasped behind her head, grinning 
happily up at Clark as he slid himself into her aching and slithery vastness. 
"Mmm, you're so good," she murmured.

Anastasia was sunk in her bean-bag with Barnaby astride her waist. He 
had already despatched one copious load before he could even get his 
flailing cock between her gigantic globes, but Anastasia was working 
eagerly on the resurrection with both her busy little hands. "Do it again for 
Staze," she murmured encouragingly.

Suzanne rested her chin in her hands as Augustine found a suitable poem 
and began to read to her.


**********

"Is that packet empty, Toots?"

Toots squeezed the foil wrapper and fumbled in her purse. She turned it 
upside down and shook it in frustration. "That was the last one. I only 
brought two dozen. Anyone got any more?"

Anastasia shook her head. Pansy blushed bright red.

"Have you got some hidden away, Pan?" asked Anastasia. "Don't bother 
keeping any for later. We can always get some more."

"I haven't used any," admitted Pansy. "I thought they were boys' things."

Toots shook her head. "Well, they are, but it's best if you put them on for 
them. They won't bother if you don't. Boys don't get pregnant, you see?"

"You mean your boys haven't worn one," Anastasia gasped. "None of 
them?"

"I did," said Perry. "But then I did it three times with Pan. What about you, 
Og?"

Augustine shook his head. "She never put one on me, I thought she 
couldn't get pregnant or something."

Clark shook his head silently. Barnaby did, too, but blushed at the same 
time.

"So you've been fucked how many times, Pan? And they haven't been 
wearing anything?" Anastasia looked at her over her glasses like a 
schoolmarm.

"I dunno. Five? Six?"

"It was ten, actually," said Toots, who had been counting.

"And we used two dozen between the two of us, Toots? I've had eight. And 
twice between the tits without anything. Have you had it fifteen times?"

"How am I s'posed to remember, Stazie? It's been four hours!"

"You remembered how many times I'd had it!" Pansy complained.

The four boys shrugged and held out their hands helplessly. They certainly 
looked exhausted enough to have gone fifteen times with Toots among the 
four of them. Even Barnaby, who knew he had only been with her twice.

Anastasia was still worrying about Pansy. "You do have periods, Pan, don't 
you?"

"Course I do. I had one at the beginning of last week."

"You might not have any more," muttered Toots. "You should be like your 
big cousin. She savin' it for her husban'!"

Poor Suzanne had made approaches to all of the boys in turn, but they had 
laughed and cuddled her and stroked her hair and held her hand and read 
her poetry, and they all respected her virginity.

"Well, anyway, the rest of us don't want to have no babies," said Anastasia, 
"so that's probably the end of the sex. Unless anyone wants to titty-fuck 
me ...?" She asked the question without much hope. "I suppose you could 
all shag Pansy again, it probably won't matter now." Even for this generous 
offer, no volunteers came forward.

"We may as well get dressed then," sighed Toots. "Still, it was fun while it 
lasted. Who wants a straight snog?" Four weary boys crawled to the 
nearest girl and started kissing. Anastasia made sure she got Clark. Perry 
returned to his first love, Toots. Barnaby did his best with Pansy, but she 
was starting to get a little tearful. It wasn't supposed to have been like 
this.

Augustine ended up with Suzanne. To his surprise, she tore off the straps 
of her swimsuit and flung him to the floor, mashing her vast breasts in his 
face. Her tongue sought his, feverishly.

"Hey, Suze," he gasped, between slurps. "It's a pity you don't do fucking. 
You could be really good."

She had done really well so far. Now she began to cry.


**********

The boys filed out into our bedroom to say goodbye. Nigel was downstairs 
waiting in Toots's limo.

"Thank you, Miss Gruntworthy, Miss Meadowlark," said Clark, as 
spokesman for the delegation. "It was good of you to invite us."

"I hope you enjoyed yourselves," said Corinne with a suppressed giggle. All 
four boys were staring openly at her in the modified Microbus dress. It 
was still terribly tight across the bust, so either I had miscalculated, or she 
was still growing. Or possibly a bit of both. "Come here, all of you," she said 
mischievously, turning her head sideways so they could kiss her without 
having to climb over her mountainous breasts. They complied eagerly then 
turned to me for more of the same.

Perhaps I ought to have controlled myself, but I was in a state of some 
arousal for reasons I couldn't begin to explain. Clark's eyes nearly popped 
out when my tongue slipped into his mouth. The brief goodbye kiss turned 
into something altogether more deep and meaningful. Clark was finally 
torn loose by the next in line, Augustine, who took his cue from Clark and 
went for it in a big way right from the off. This was fun!

Corinne, meanwhile, had been pouting and claiming it wasn't fair, so Clark 
returned to her. He was joined by Augustine as soon as he had finished 
with me, leaving me with Perry, who had been waiting with some 
impatience. Only Barnaby was something of a disappointment, offering me 
a polite hand to shake. I shook it, and managed a quick snog, but I could 
tell his heart wasn't really in it, so I returned to Clark for a finale.

"Clark, please!" I broke off to tuck in my sweater, which he had pulled out 
of my jeans to liberate my breasts. "You'll have to lend a hand, now," I told 
him, "I can't put these things away on my own!" My boobs were swinging 
together like the Bells of St Cat's, down by my thighs. "Naughty Clark!" I 
scolded him as he kneeled to suck at my nipples. "NO!"

Eventually, two of them helped sort out my sweater and we all stood, 
panting slightly.

"Well, thank you, Miss Meadowlark, Miss Gruntworthy," said Clark, offering 
his hand.

"Where are the girls?" I asked him, curious.

"They went out the other door for some reason, Miss."

"They'll be sending out a search party. It's been twenty minutes," said 
Corinne. 

We ushered them out.

"Wow, Cee!"

She agreed. It was a little early for bed, but we'd had a long day.


**********

"Where have you been? Did you get lost?"

The boys had straggled downstairs and out to the waiting car. Toots, Pansy 
and Suzanne were leaning against the side of the limo, watching in a jaded 
way as Anastasia enthusiastically administered head to Nigel in the long 
grass.

"Sorry, Toots. We were saying goodbye to Miss Meadowlark and Miss 
Gruntworthy."

"You've been long enough. You been gettin' your leg over, or sumpn'?"

The boys blushed.

"Jeez! I dunno why I bother teachin' you lot about sex, firs' chance you get, 
you start shaggin' de teachers. Come on, in de car!"

Toots neatly deflected Peregrine and stuck her tongue down his throat and 
an arm down the front of his trousers.

Pansy burst into tears.

Suzanne bit her lip fiercely and squeezed her nipples through the stretchy 
top of her swimsuit.

Anastasia and Nigel disentangled themselves and kissed each other 
chastely, like brother and sister, before Nigel closed his zipper and got 
behind the wheel.

The car finally drove off, Toots in the back seat with Peregrine and 
Augustine. She waved from the back window before she was dragged 
down out of sight.

"Well," sighed Anastasia. "What do you think, Suze?"

Suzanne burst into tears again. And Anastasia looked on in amazement as 
the two cousins hugged each other in their appallingly inappropriate 
clothing, sobbing their poor little hearts out.

They slowly made their way back to their dorm, and Anastasia watched 
them go. Then she turned sadly, to go back indoors, upstairs to her empty 
room. There wasn't even a bed in there. All she had to show for her tea 
party was a stinking litter of cushions and juice-soaked beanbags, scraps of 
food and tissue paper, and two dozen used condoms.


**********

"She's asleep now," I said to Corinne. "We'll rebuild her bed tomorrow. I 
put her on a heap of beanbags and covered her with her duvet."

"Did she tell you all about it?"

"Not a lot. Pansy had better see Nurse in the morning. And Suzanne, I can't 
believe this, Suzanne didn't get any all afternoon. They're calling her the 
ice-maiden."

"Anastasia's stopped crying, though?"

"She has now. I gave her a big hug and helped her put her nightie on. She's 
cuddling her teddy."

"I thought that wasn't a teddy, it was a nightdress-bag."

"It is, but she still cuddles him. She's calling him Clark."

"Of all the stupid names for a nightdress-bag."





Chapter 78:- Total Destruction Of The Fourth Wall


"I've got a letter," said Anastasia, waving a pink envelope. "It's ever so 
thick. I think it's from Clark!"

"Haven't you read it yet?" asked Shona.

The girls were in the lab, waiting for class to start.

Anastasia coloured slightly. "I haven't opened it. I don't know what it 
might say."

"You'll never find out if you don't open it," said Suzanne. She was still 
feeling hurt and bitter about her inexplicable failure to get laid at the tea-
party. "Maybe he wants to dump you."

"I know. That's why I don't want to look!"

"Give it here, I'll read it out to you," Pansy held out her hand.

"S'mine," insisted Anastasia, holding it above her head. "Do you think he 
would dump me in a letter?"

"Dunno," said Shona. "Maybe he loves you." She looked at the thick 
envelope again. "But if he does, he must have said it quite a few times. Go 
on, Staze. Have a look!"

Anastasia flushed and tore at the envelope. Finally, she ripped it wide 
open and tugged out the contents. It seemed to be about thirty sheets of 
thick writing paper. She started to read it, her fingers trembling.

"Ooooh!" She looked up at the others, her eyes sparkling. "He loves me!" 
She kissed Shona, who looked pleased with herself.

"I told you he did," she said.

Anastasia returned to the letter, reading down to the bottom of the first 
page. By then, she was scarlet, biting her lip and hopping from one foot to 
the other.

"Read it out to us," threatened Suzanne, "or we'll take it away from you and 
put it on the school notice board."

"I daren't! It's really rude."

The two cousins began to converge menacingly on her.

"Oh, all right. I'll have to leave some bits out, though...!"

She cleared her throat.


	"'My dearest darling, Anastasia! 
	This is to say thank you for inviting us 
	all to the tea-party on Sunday. It was very 
	nice, and the cake was lovely. Most of all, 
	though, we all enjoyed the fucking.
	Anastasia, darling, you have the nicest 
	breasts in the world ...'"


"Huh!" grunted Suzanne.

	"'... I have never seen any as big as yours, 
	apart from your Miss Meadowlark, of course, 
	and she's old. And maybe Miss Gruntworthy's 
	although when hers fell out of her jumper, 
	they dangled so far down I had to get on my 
	knees to suck her nipples ...'"


"When was that, Staze?" asked Pansy.

"Must have been while she was sucking off Nigel and the boys were saying 
goodbye upstairs," sneered Suzanne.

"Do you want to hear this letter or not?" Anastasia paused, exasperated. 
She looked from one to the other of the cousins and continued. "Where was 
I, ah, "


	"'... to suck her nipples. I like Pansy's 
	tits, too, although they are quite average 
	size ...'"


"Cheeky sod!" pouted Pansy.

	"'... and Toots has got huge ones, nearly 
	as big as yours, and a terrifically fat little 
	bum! It's a pity about Suzanne's tits. They 
	don't look natural. They're like a stripper's. 
	I didn't think they allowed little girls to 
	have implants.'"


"Mine and Pan's are the only real ones in the whole class," shouted 
Suzanne, and many of the other girls in the class turned round and 
sniggered. The word of Suzanne's new title, 'Ice-Maiden' had spread 
through the class like a plague.

"They obviously don't look real enough, then, do they," said Anastasia 
harshly. "Shut up and listen. There's more."


	"'Are yours a D cup, Staze? Tell me your 
	ra size, and those of all the other girls 
	n your class. The rest of the boys don't 
	elieve us when we say we fucked four girls ...'


"... he means three, Suze ..."


	'... with such gigantic tits.'"


"What *is* our bra size? Would he understand about ScatBras and things? 
What can I tell him?"

"You can tell him what you fuckin' well like," snarled Suzanne, still 
smarting, "he's just a prat who don't know nothing."

Anastasia pulled a face at her. "I can't read this next bit. It's about our 
pussies. It's ever so personal." She read on in silence for a while. "He says 
they all decided Toots had the biggest pussy, and Pansy had the wettest. 
Funny how he always talks about things being the biggest and wettest. 
And the hairiest. That was mine," she said, matter-of factly. She turned to 
the next page in silence. "What's halibut, Shona?"

"It's a sort of great big fish."

"That's strange. Golly, listen to this bit. 'I wish I could go to sleep with your 
big stiff nipple in my mouth. It's as big as your clit!' Aaah, isn't that nice? 
What's my clit?"

The other girls stared at her open-mouthed.

"Ooops, look out!" Anastasia folded the letter and tucked it into her bra. 
"Here comes Miss Gruntworthy."


**********

"Sit down, girls!" I wasn't feeling particularly disposed to small (in height) 
scientifically-inclined girls this morning. "Why are you sitting around doing 
nothing instead of getting on with your projects? You all know what to 
do?"

I was a little unfair. The rest of the class had been quietly getting on with 
its work, but not the four over-endowed star members of the First Form 
Sexual Chemistry Group. They looked at me as if aggrieved at being singled 
out, instead of it being the other way round.

"What's keeping you?" I snapped at Suzanne. "Aren't you far enough 
behind with the FatLite formula?"

"And you, Shona? Waiting for milking time?"

"Pansy? Yearning for your true-love?"

"Anastasia, you're looking flushed. Been playing with yourself?"

There was no reply to this stream of rhetorical questions. The girls 
concerned hung their heads, while the rest of the class gave off almost a 
glow of righteous indignation at their classmates for upsetting the teacher 
when she was so obviously in the grip of pre-menstrual tension.

"What's that sticking out of your bra, Anastasia?" I snarled at her.

"Nothing, Miss. A letter, Miss. From Clark."

"Read your love-letters in your own time, girl, not in class." The other girls 
enjoyed that hugely. "It's disgraceful, receiving love-letters at your age." 
The volume of tittering rose. "And take it out of your bra, there isn't 
enough room in there to use it as a waste-paper basket." Open laughter 
broke out.

"SHUT UP!" I screamed at them, and silence fell, broken only by Anastasia's 
sobbing. "Fucking kids!" I turned and stormed up to my desk at the front 
of the class, hearing shocked little gasps.

"Teacher swore!"

"Miss Gruntworthy said a rude word!"

"Ooooh, Miss!"

"Get on with your work. I don't want to hear another peep out of any of 
you."

I had every reason to be angry with them. While we were dressing that 
morning, Corinne had happened to mention that I still seemed to be 
putting on weight; and a quick check with the tape revealed yet another 
inch on my hips, and *two* more on my waist! And my tits felt as if they 
were bursting and itching all the time.

Corinne, meanwhile, she was her usual svelte and lissome self, apart from 
a pair of breasts that had ballooned from merely Brobdingnagian to 
hyperhumungous. It had taken nearly ten minutes to get her safely 
enclosed in the Microbus dress, even with its extra panels in the sides. And 
of course, while she had squeezed herself out of the door and set off to see 
Clit and Flaps about some new bras and tops, I couldn't even fasten the 
button on my skirt, let alone the zipper!

By the time I had hurled it into the rubbish bin and found something more 
stretchy, I was was ten minutes late for classes. Why did these things 
happen to me all the time? I sat and cried into my hankie, while the class 
got on with its work and wondered what was the matter with Ole Miss 
Gruntworthy.

I was reminded of the time last month when Victoria had found me crying 
in class and quietly dismissed the rest of the girls while she coolly and 
efficiently dealt with my problems. No chance of that this time, I was with 
the First Form, not the Thirds.

"What's the matter, Miss?"

I looked up.

"Toria? What are you doing in here? You're supposed to be in Miss 
Meadowlark's Mobility in Public Places II."

"I know, Miss. She couldn't get through the doors. One door was jammed 
shut and she was far too big to get through the other one on its own. What 
have you done to her, Miss?"

"Me? What have I done?"

"Yes, Miss. You! Jeremy's unjamming her, now, Miss. He had to take both 
doors off their hinges. And while I'm on the subject, what about Pansy? I 
suppose I'm being ignored again while you make her pregnant and give 
her at least another fifteen cup sizes while I'm still stuck at less than sixty 
inches?"

"Toria, stop it! I don't feel well."

"And after it was *me* that wanted a steady boyfriend, you come along 
and get her shagged to a frazzle by *four* horny boys! Any one of those 
would have been okay for me."

"No, they were only fifteen. You need someone older, more mature ..."

"Bullshit, Miss! I need a boy between my legs. Not her. Not Anastasia. And 
not that little slag Toots! As if there weren't enough girls in this school 
getting knobbed on a daily basis while I sit around frothing my knickers 
and getting nothing, you have to introduce the horniest little bitch in the 
whole world to St Cat's. And as if *that's* not enough, I'm no great fan of 
Suzanne's, but what has she done to deserve what you've done to her? The 
only virgin in the First Form? Is that your idea of a sick joke?"

I buried my face in my hands and wept. The class worked on, saying 
nothing. I suppose Victoria had threatened them with violence if they 
intervened. I wished they would come to my rescue, perhaps dosing the 
belligerent Third Former with something which would turn her into a full-
time raving nympho.

Out of the corner of my tear-blurred vision, I vaguely saw a girl walking 
past carrying a bucket. It was Pansy. Suddenly, everything seemed to 
happen in slow motion. From beneath one of the work benches, a white 
mouse appeared, sitting on his haunches and preening his whiskers. I 
recognised him as Grimaldi, the most engaging of a batch of mice we had 
recently obtained from a University on the outskirts of Swindon.

Grimaldi appeared to eye up the distance between himself and the 
approaching Pansy, then pausing only to adjust the strap of his tin helmet 
and check the safety on his personal weapon, he set off at a deliberate 
saunter across the aisle.

He almost got it hopelessly wrong.

Then Pansy caught sight of Grimaldi and stopped in her tracks. She 
teetered for a moment, the bucket tilting forward so that the bright green, 
foaming contents slopped almost over the brim. With a despairing lunge, 
she recovered her balance. She realised at the last second that she had 
almost spilled the entire contents of her bucket over her very own dearly 
beloved sister.

Victoria's face was a mask of horror. She failed to see the mouse from 
where she was standing, but she did see Pansy's approach, and the 
contents of the bucket as it swung precariously in her direction. As it all 
took place in slow motion, thanks to the wonders of high-speed 
photography and dynamic motion control, she was powerless to escape.

In slow motion, Victoria breathed a sigh of relief at her split second escape. 
Grimaldi, thwarted and cursing fluently, escaped under the work bench 
and found himself on Shona's shoe. In a flash of inspiration, he scrambled 
up her leg, finding excellent adhesion on her coarse-textured school 
stockings. He reached bare skin and pressed on into the fragrant tropical 
darkness.

Shona was transfixed. Something had just run up her leg and into the 
private area at the top of her thighs. As it was all taking place in slow 
motion, she couldn't move even if she wanted to. Oddly, she didn't really 
want to. Grimaldi's scampering feet felt like a lover's caressing fingers as 
he pressed on into forbidden territory. His whiskers twitched as he found a 
wall in front of him. It was covered with cloth of some description, and 
moisture was trickling down it. Probing to one side then the other, he 
found a way through ...

Shona's scream made the glassware rattle throughout the lab.

She shot to her feet, and her breasts, unused to such violent movement, 
flew upwards and outwards. Not even a ScatBra could withstand such 
forces. At a single bound, Shona's breasts were free.

The left one contacted Anastasia, sending her flying backwards toward the 
front of the classroom. With a soft thud, she fell to the floor and began 
wondering in slow motion what had happened to her.

Shona's right breast, also operating in slow motion, took out Suzanne. 
Despite Shona's substantially greater breast dimensions, Suzanne was no 
pygmy in combined breast and overall body weight. As a result, when 
Shona's breast hit her, not much happened at first, apart from a great 
shuddering blow, like an irresistible force meeting an immovable object.

Almost immovable. Suzanne was slightly off balance. In fact, at the 
moment of impact, or perhaps milliseconds before, she was about to pour 
the contents of a test tube into a flask. Now, reeling at 120 frames per 
second, she lurched to her right.

Pansy, recovering from her initial shock at seeing Grimaldi, began to grin 
at Victoria with relief. That was when Suzanne came barreling at her like a 
small, slightly overweight steam roller. The contents of the test tube 
slopped neatly into the bucket.

The mixture in the bucket thought about the situation for a few moments, 
then erupted in a cloud of yellow steam. Pansy yanked the bucket away 
and screamed, the echoes mingling with the last reverberations of Shona's 
scream of moments before.

And the entire bucketful went straight over Victoria.

She was soaked from head to foot in bright green frothing liquid. Yellow 
steam poured off her in great roiling clouds. The rest of the girls in the lab, 
feeling left out of the scene, screamed, still in slow motion.

Grimaldi realised his error and shinned back down Shona's leg to collect his 
medal. There was something moist clinging to his whiskers. Something 
tasty and not altogether unpleasant. He would report it to the others when 
he got back to base. As it had been a slightly scary experience, he would 
call it 'Pussy'.

Things returned to real time. The action speeded up. Pansy's bucket rolled 
noisily from side to side on the floor. Girls were screaming and crying all 
over the lab. I added a scream or two myself.

"Very funny, Miss!" spluttered Victoria. "You've really done it this time." 
She turned, dripping multi-coloured foam and sploshed her way out of the 
lab.

"Shit, Pansy!" I confronted the girl responsible for this mayhem. "Can't you 
be more careful? What was in that bucket anyway?"

"I don't know, Miss," she wept piteously. "It was something Anastasia was 
making!"

"What was it, Anastasia?" I thundered at her.

She was clambering up from the floor, slipping and sliding in the spilled 
liquid. "I don't know, Miss. It was one of those unknown formulae we were 
testing to check that they weren't the mysterious ingredient that reacts 
with FatLite to form SuperLite and Uncontrollable Horniness, Miss."

"Did you need to make *three gallons* of it, Anastasia?"

"I got carried away, Miss. I added ten times as much of one ingredient as I 
should have done, and had to multiply everything else by ten as well."

"So we don't know what was in the mixture?"

"Not really, no."

Suzanne had also picked herself up. "We didn't know what was in the 
bucket even *before* Shona made me tip that test tube into it."

"What was in the test tube, Suzanne?"

"Gosh, I dunno, Miss. It was something I was mixing for Shona."

"Shona! What was it?"

"It was a mouse, Miss. It ran up my leg and started nibbling my clit, Miss!"

Wow, I thought. Some girls had all the luck that was going.

"What was it like, Shona?" It was a question which needed asking. There 
was not a girl in the class who did not want to know the answer. "But first, 
what was in that test tube?"

"God knows, Miss. Something to do with Lube and Steam. I was going to 
analyse it once it had cooled down. Poor Victoria, Miss! I wonder what will 
happen to her."

"So do I. This is a disaster. We had better call Nurse and send Toria down 
there to see her. Darren can take all her clothes off and give her a good 
soaping down in the showers. He had better give special attention to bodily 
orifices and folds in the skin. He ought to rinse the soap off with copious 
supplies of warm water and a large sponge. Then he can dry her with 
enormous, warm, fluffy towels and make sure she's tucked up in bed with 
someone to look after her for a couple of days in case she develops forty-
ton breasts or gets Raging Uncontrollable Horniness. But meanwhile, Shona, 
how did it feel when Grimaldi chewed your clitoris?"

The whole class gathered round the desk, spellbound.





Part XXVII





Chapter 79:- Wider Still, And Wider


I staggered up the stairs and bumped into Jeremy, who was banging away 
with a hammer and chisel at the door frame.

"I only just fitted this bloody door last week and it's not wide enough 
already! What's up with that girlfriend of yours?"

"It's not her fault she keeps getting bigger. You should have made it wide 
enough in the first place. Are you going to do all the other doors as well? 
What about a specially wide toilet cubicle?"

"Sod off, Shan. St Cat's isn't made of money. She's going to have to manage 
the way they are, or go down to the bogs outside the Sixth Form common 
room. They've got a special cubicle in there for large girls."

"She can't go all the way over there if she's busting for a wee in the middle 
of the night."

"Not my problem, sorry! And what about my mate Darren?"

"What about him?"

"Nurse phoned. He was down there screwing her this morning. That's fine, 
he's got a number for that on his time sheet - shagging staff. But they 
brought a girl in. Young Woods girl, Victoria? Darren had orders to strip 
her off and hose her down, soap her all over, with especial attention to 
bodily orifices and folds in the skin. Then he had to rinse her off with 
copious supplies of warm water and dry her with huge, warm, fluffy 
towels and put her to bed. Then he was down to keep an eye on her for the 
next two days. It's not good enough, Shan! What's he supposed to book his 
time to?"

"Not my problem, sorry! You mean he doesn't have a number for shagging 
Third Formers?"

"I'll pretend you never said that. She's a minor. All he's allowed to do is 
put her to bed, fluff up her pillows and tuck in her covers. He wasn't 
allowed to enjoy soaping her almost unimaginably lush curves in the 
shower. He was not permitted to achieve an erection. He would certainly 
not be permitted to penetrate her."

"I should think not. He'd split her in two."

"In that case, you should do something about that young lady's behaviour."

"What do you mean?" I had an uneasy feeling nagging at my vitals.

"She practically raped him in the shower. He ran out and climbed on the 
roof, but she chased him - stark bollock naked, both of them - and dragged 
him back inside again. I tried to get him to tell me what happened after 
that, but he's still in shock. He can't talk about it. Darren may never be the 
same again."

"Well, that's a relief, anyway," I muttered.

I wondered what Victoria had done to the poor boy. Under the influence of 
a whole bucketful of something unknown, Victoria could have done 
literally anything. She was probably strong enough. And she was certainly 
powerfully motivated. Victoria wanted a boyfriend, period. If it had to be 
Darren, so be it.

"You'd better go and see her. She's in the sick bay."

"I'm not seeing her. Not me! She'll blame me for tipping that bucket of 
juice all over her."

"She'll love you, in that case. Nurse said she's never met a happier girl than 
Victoria. Apparently, whatever you poured all over her has made her into 
a different girl. She's a bit randy, but that's not a bad thing at all. At least, 
boys will know where they stand with her."

I heard footsteps coming slowly up the stairs.

"Only me!" said Corinne's voice, and she came round the corner at the top 
of the staircase. Her breasts came into sight about five seconds before the 
rest of her. "Shannie! Hi!" she said happily. "Well? What do you think?"

"Lovely shirt, Cee!"

"Flaps was moaning about it. She said it took enough material to make 
three ordinary girls's blouses. Clit shut her up in the end, but she 
complained the whole time she was making it."

"How's the bra? You're insanely huge now!"

Corinne blushed prettily.

"It's as well these things only weigh the same as they did before they got 
SuperLitened. And the counterweights mean they just about float in front 
of me like great big clouds. I'm still getting used to them. They're going to 
be a problem in a high wind. I was trying to get to the bra shop earlier and 
I kept ending up being blown in the wrong direction."

"Oh, poor Cee! We'd never have thought of that being a problem."

"It was all right coming back. I had the wind behind me and my feet could 
only just keep up."

She approached the huge doorway, and sailed though on the port tack 
without too much difficulty.

"Where's the bed?" She aimed herself in roughly the right direction. "Ouch! 
That's the only trouble. I can't see the front of them. Hey, look at this shirt. 
It fastens up the sides with velcro! Either side, it doesn't matter."

She had to show me. Although the shirt had a row of about fifty tiny 
buttons, they were far beyond the reach of her arms.

"Do the buttons work?" I asked her.

"Course they do. But I can't reach them by about a yard and a half! And 
there are seventy-two of them, all down the front, it would take ages to 
get it on and off. But one day, when we've got a couple of hours to spare, 
I'll let you undress me properly. Meanwhile ..."

There was a ripping sound, and the shirt opened up at the side. She 
shrugged it off and I picked it up off the bed. It was big enough to make a 
small tent. One of those two-person tents. They used to call them two-man 
tents, but we're more enlightened these days. The sounds of hammering 
had ceased, and we turned to see Jeremy staring in at Corinne in her 
immense bra.

"Fucking Ada," he commented coarsely.

I could see the boy's point, though. Corinne carefully turned away from the 
door so he couldn't stare at her. She seemed to have forgotten that her 
breasts were just as visible from behind: her tiny body was only about half 
as wide as each of her breasts.

"Clit says I could sleep in this bra if I like. She says they'll just stick 
straight up in the air."

"But what if you turn over? You'll suffocate me."

"Just poke me in the tit. I'll feel it. They're so sensitive now, you wouldn't 
believe!"

"I'd rather you took your bra off, Cee."

"I know, dear. But they'll go all over the place. And if my nipples touch 
anything, anything, it drives me wild!"

"Take it off, Cee, quick!"

"No, Jeremy's watching us."

"Jeremy, get on with that door, then go away."

Reluctantly, the hammering started again, but he was still looking. Men are 
such animals.


**********

There was a hammering on the door. The nice new wide double door. I 
rolled upright and got up. Corinne perched on the edge of the bed, and her 
breasts rested on the floor by her feet.

"Amy! What can I do for you?" I stood aside and let her in.

"Nice doors, Miss. Someone been growing?" She saw Corinne and her pretty 
jaw dropped open. "Ah, so I see! Hi, Miss Meadowlark!"

"Hi, Amy."

"It's Sexy Amy now, Miss. Officially. I had Daddy change my name."

"Your father changed your name to Sexy Amy? What does he think of 
that?"

"He thinks it's a nice name. He wanted to give me a middle name as well, 
but they wouldn't let him. They said 'Slut' wasn't a real name."

"It's terrible what these petty officials get away with," I sympathised.

"It's all right. We settled for Salacia."

"Oh, that's a lovely name. It really suits you. Anyway, Sexy Amy, what did 
you want?"

"It's about Toria, Miss. My bestest friend. She's in the sick quarters, Miss. I 
want to see her."

"Nobody's stopping you, Sexy Amy, darling. You only have to ask Nurse."

"I did, Miss, and she said she couldn't disturb them. Toria and Darren, Miss. 
She told me to come back next week. Even Toria wouldn't shag 
continuously for that long, would she?"

She would if it was to spite me, I thought.

"Couldn't you hang around and catch her in her meal breaks," Corinne 
asked.

"She's not having any, Miss." Sexy Amy was staring again at Corinne with 
total disbelief. Then she looked at me. "Miss. Can I have a pair of tits like 
Miss Meadowlark's please? I mean, mine are all right, and they're easily 
the biggest in the class, but they're *so* heavy! Miss Meadowlark has such 
big, light airy ones."

"They're just as heavy, Sexy Amy. They just take up loads more room."

"But Miss. Look at them. If I had a pair like that, I could pull every boy at 
Lord Ted's!"

"What do you know about Lord Ted's?" I asked her sharply.

"Nothing, Miss!" Her face was as innocent and pure as a First Former's. She 
remembered her bestest friend again. "Anyway, she's not having meal 
breaks. I think her health will suffer if she stays in bed the whole time. 
That's why I want to see her. And if she's as happy as Nurse says she is, I 
can get you to pour some of that bucket stuff over me, too."

"We can't, we don't know what was in it."

"Never mind. So long as Darren takes me in the showers and soaps me all 
over, with especial attention to bodily orifices and folds in the skin ...", she 
was making lewd gestures to reinforce her every word, and I was 
beginning to find it awfully arousing.

"Stop it, Amy ..."

"and wraps me in warm, fluffy towels then spends the next week shagging 
the arse off me, I'll be happy, too! Even if my tits stay small like this."

"Small? They're the size of pumpkins!" A moan escaped my lips. God! Was 
that me?

"Gosh, Miss Gruntworthy, are you coming?"

"Of course I am, you horny little bitch. You always have this effect on me. 
Aaaagh! Woo-woo-woo!"

Obliging girl, she gave me a hand. Both hands. Corinne watched us, 
patiently awaiting her turn. She handed Sexy Amy a box of Kleenex to 
wipe my juices off her hands and face. It took her several more sheets to 
dry her breasts and mop up the puddle on the floor. Finally, she 
meticulously dried her foot, being careful to wipe between her toes. 

"Have another box, Amy," said Corinne. "We use so much, we've got 
another hundred boxes in the store room."

"Thank you, Miss Meadowlark!"

"Thank you, Sexy Amy," I gasped hoarsely.

"Any time, Miss! And about that bucket, Miss ...?"

"We'll see, darling!"


**********

There was a polite knock on the kitchen door. 

"Come in, Staze", I called. No harm in her seeing what we were doing. It 
would be good experience for her. She came in and stood uncertainly 
looking over at the bed, where Sexy Amy was doing something so rude 
with Corinne that I couldn't bring myself to watch them. I carried on with 
my knitting.

"What are you making, Miss. Ooh, look, little pink bootees, Miss. Are they 
for anyone special?"

"Not really, but they'll always come in useful. I'm only knitting to steady 
my hands. What did you want, darling? And shouldn't you be wearing 
some clothes?"

"Nothing, Miss. I was just lonely. I don't need clothes, anyway. It's not cold 
in here."

I peered closely at her. "Aren't you even wearing panties, Anastasia?" I 
asked in my sternest voice.

She blushed and avoided the question. "Did you want a cup of coffee, Miss? 
I brought a big jug of Shona-milk over from the dorm."

"Oh, lovely, yes please. Miss Meadowlark will have one as well, and I'm 
sure Sexy Amy will, although she's got her hands full at the moment. And 
her mouth." I watched Anastasia undulate into the kitchen. From the rear 
it was plain enough, she wasn't wearing panties. No doubt about it, she was 
still growing: all of her, although some parts were still growing faster than 
others. It was easier to tell with her naked like this. "Don't spill it on your 
boobs, darling," I called to her. "You know how hard it is to see what you're 
doing now."

"Yes, Miss," she sang out in a bored voice. She reappeared with two mugs 
and gave me one, then sat down at my feet. To my surprise and delight, 
she ran her tiny index finger between my toes, removing little piles of dirt. 
"Poo!" she said as she finished and sniffed her finger. "It smells cheesy, like 
Clark's cock!"

"Anastasia! Please! I'm drinking my coffee." I ruffled her hair and she 
leaned against my leg. Her breast felt like a balloon full of hot water.

She grinned up at me. "Miss! My bra is ever so tight. That's why I'm not 
wearing it."

"You're still growing, darling. I could tell, when I saw you come in just now. 
Your breasts are a lot bigger than they were when you came out of the sick 
bay. They're hanging lower, too. I hope the FatLite isn't wearing off."

"So do I, Miss! I love being huge, but I wouldn't want to be floppy like you, 
Miss!"

"Why, Anastasia, thank you!"

A minor disturbance from the bed told us that Corinne and Sexy Amy had 
reached an interval.

"Thank you, Amy, you're as good with your tongue as ever."

"Thank you, Miss."

"I think there's some coffee in the kitchen, be an angel ..."

Corinne had evidently been listening. Sexy Amy wobbled past, looking 
down at Anastasia.

"You're naked!" she accused her.

"My bra's too tight," said Anastasia simply to the older girl. "I grew some 
more."

Sexy Amy fetched the coffees and took them back to the bed. "Why can't I 
have a pair as big as hers?" she demanded peevishly. "She's only a kid!"

"She's sensitive to chemicals," I said. "You wouldn't like to be like her."

"Try me," muttered Amy.

Actually, the more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that 
Moggie was right yet again. She had put forward her suggestion for 
Anastasia to become Head Girl of St Catherine's High School for Girls after 
the summer. It seemed ridiculous on the face of it that a girl starting only 
her second year could be Head Girl. But if she was the girl with the biggest 
breasts in the school - apart from those who were big and fat like Shona - 
then she was clearly the obvious choice. The Head Girl of St Cat's was 
usually the one with the biggest tits: there was a clear precedent. And the 
way things were going, Anastasia was well on course to becoming the girl 
best qualified.

Moggie had sworn us to secrecy. Even Anastasia had no idea, nor had any 
of the other girls. It was for the best that they didn't know. If word got 
around, we would have every ambitious girl in the school creaming herself 
with SuperLite trying to get herself into the top rank. We could have an 
absurd situation on our hands. In the worst case, the entire school could 
end up with twelve and fifteen-foot busts, and the result would be certain 
financial ruin for St Cat's. 

The thought was too ghastly to consider. I looked down fondly at 
Anastasia, resting against my knees. 

If only she knew.





Chapter 80:- Victoria Has An Idea


My conscience got the better of me.

I went to visit Victoria in the sick bay. Nurse held a finger to her lips as I 
went in.

"Shhh. You can't see her yet. Come along to the office for a minute."

"Is she asleep?" I whispered as we tiptoed past her bedroom.

"No, not asleep. She just can't be disturbed. Take a seat." We had arrived in 
the nurse's office. The walls were decorated with tastefully framed prints 
of various hypertrophied bodily parts. She noticed my interest. "Lovely, 
aren't they!"

"Certainly different, yes."

"He was only fourteen, would you believe? And that girl there, recognise 
her ...?"

"The breasts look familiar. Why don't they include their heads in these 
pictures?"

"They do, if there's anything wrong with their heads."

"Nothing wrong with those tits, and they've included those. Is she ex-St 
Cat's?"

"Not really. She's still here. It's Miss Thunderbolt."

"Moggie?" I stood up and looked at the picture more closely. Sure enough, 
there was her appendix scar. "The caption had me fooled. It says she's 
fifteen years old."

"Miss Thunderbolt is funny about her age. Coffee?"

"Please." She pottered about, mixing instant coffee in three mugs. "Darren 
will be finished in a moment, and he'll want a cup. Milk and sugar?"

She picked up the curiously-shaped milk jug and looked at me with a 
raised eyebrow. "Is that girl-milk?" I asked her.

"Best full cream Shona!"

"No sugar, then, thanks."

That was when I realised where I had seen a milk-jug shaped like that 
before. It was a piece of hospital equipment common on men's wards, 
known as a 'male bottle'. I wished I could change my mind.

Darren wandered in, wrapped in a dressing gown. He shivered and picked 
up his mug with both hands wrapped round it for warmth. The poor boy 
looked drained.

"How's she doing?" asked Nurse.

"Fucking insatiable," he replied briefly. "That's six times this morning, and 
it's only ten o' clock."

"Poor Darren!" Nurse stood up and put an arm round him, drawing him to 
an armchair. "Never mind. Perhaps it will wear off, whatever it was."

"What was in that bucket, Shan?" Darren's eyes were like empty sockets. 
His face was ashen.

"We don't know. There wasn't enough left to analyse. It all soaked straight 
into Toria."

"She's horny as a goat."

"Have her breasts grown?" I asked.

"Not much. They're still lush, trembling orbs of creamy flesh, capped with 
puffy areolae almost three inches in diameter and nipples like fresh-
plucked raspberries. Each breast is the size of a pineapple, and when she 
isn't wearing a bra - which she doesn't in bed - they quiver like 
blancmange."

"Much the same as before, then."

"Oooh, yes. Her tummy has just the slightest little bulge, soft enough to 
squeeze in a single hand ... not like yours, you podgy little porker. You're 
getting horribly fat, Shan!"

"We're not discussing me, we're talking about that poor girl who is under 
the influence of chemicals."

"Why not go and see her," Nurse suggested. "I'll help Darren revive." 
Darren rolled his eyes ceilingward.

There was already a clatter of upended surgical apparatus as I left them to 
it and went off to Victoria's room. I knocked politely.

"Come in, Miss!"

She was out of bed, brushing her hair. "How did you know it was me?"

She ignored the question. "How do I look?" She spun round from the mirror 
and grinned at me.

"Good enough to eat." Her complexion was like the skin of a peach. Darren's 
description of her breasts was word perfect. They hung heavily in her T-
shirt, bobbling slightly, the nipples tracing patterns as they moved around 
inside the soft clinging material. She was scratching her bare buttock 
absently.

"Perhaps I'll get Daz to eat me later. It will make a pleasant change. Hey, 
Miss! I am sooooo horny! Whatever was in that bucket ... bottle it and sell 
it for twenty quid a throw. What was it, anyway?"

"We don't know. And it's all gone. So once the effects wear off - if they 
wear off - you'll have to get back to normal. Does it really feel nice?"

"All the time. My nipples never stop tingling, and when I touch them, I get 
drenched! Do you like that word, drenched. Drenched. I needed a better 
word than moist, or wet. And just the thought of Daz kissing my lips is 
enough to make me start coming. Not to mention the thought of him 
thrusting his great rod into the gaping maw of my dripping cooze!"

"Toria, please!"

"Sorry, Miss. I forgot." She palmed both nipples, which had hardened 
during the previous few seconds, and a distant expression crossed her face. 
"What's the time, Miss?"

"Half past."

"God, another twenty minutes. I'm getting worse!" She whispered this 
latest revelation to me, her face and shoulders flushing pink. I tore my 
eyes away and tried to fix them somewhere else. They found only the 
waste bucket, which had a used condom hanging negligently over its rim. 
You could see it had been used. "Have to get this bucket emptied," she 
laughed, picking up the bucket and shaking it experimentally while 
peering inside. "You don't want me getting pregnant as well, do you? One 
single parent in the family is enough, thanks very much!"

"Pansy's not necessarily pregnant, you know," I said weakly. If she had 
planned to have a baby, she could hardly have planned it more thoroughly.

"Oh, she will. Our Mum did straight away, and so did Suzanne's Mum. We're 
a fertile family. Pansy will be pregnant all right. Pity really, with the 
school Open Day coming up."

"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps the Lord Ted's boys aren't as fertile as Pansy is. 
You know about the falling sperm count these days ... Open Day? What 
Open Day?"

"The first annual St Cat's Open Day. It's a great idea, Miss. All the mothers 
and fathers coming to see how their girls are getting on. Meet the parents 
of the girls who are starting next year. View the classrooms, the facilites 
for games and sports, the dormitories with their specially widened doors to 
accommodate girls with Considerably Fuller Figures ..."

"When was all this arranged? Nobody's told me anything."

"It hasn't been arranged yet. But it will be. I'm going up with Sexy Amy to 
see Miss Thunderbolt, as soon as I'm better, and we'll tell her to arrange it. 
Just before the Summer Holidays would be best. Nice sunny day, garden 
party atmosphere, cucumber sarnies and cups of tea under the trees 
outside the bra measuring facility. It will be perfect, Miss! Just think. The 
school would make thousands. We could buy a school minibus to carry the 
girls around. Or something useful."

I tried to imagine the effects on a bunch of parents of exposure to the 
student body of St Catherine's High School for Girls. Not good, I thought. 
There could be mass withdrawals of girls. Financial ruin stared us in the 
face.

"Do you really think it's a good idea, Toria?"

"The best," she said firmly. She fluffed up her hair with both hands, 
turning her head this way and that with quick little movements, as if she 
was trying to see her mirror image before it had a chance to move. "I have 
to be getting ready for sex now, Miss. You didn't want to stay and watch, 
did you?"

"No, thank you, Toria. I don't think I could stand the excitement."

"No, it's not good for older people to watch. We do go at it a bit. At least, I 
do. Daz just lies there most of the time these days. I was wondering ... 
Miss?"

"Yes, Toria?"

"Would there be any chance of getting me some boys from Lord Edward's? 
Just a few. Not for a long-term relationship or anything, just plain sex."

"Toria. I am disgusted in you!"

"Yeah, I thought so! One rule for your cronies and personal favourites like 
Pansy and Suze and little Anastasia! You'll be making one of them Head 
Girl next. I'm doomed to be the poor relation round here. Stuck with 
Darren."

"Most girls would be over the moon to have a boy like Darren available all 
the time."

"Huh!"

"Doesn't a giant cock mean anything to you?"

"Not when it takes me an hour to get it up. And I'm sure he fakes all his 
orgasms now. He always says the same things. 'Oooh, Toria, oooh, 
VicTORIA'. Call that original?"

The poor boy. My heart went out to him.

"Look," I heard the words coming out of my mouth. "I will see what I can 
arrange with Miss Mountains about some Lord Edward's boys for you. No 
promises, mind. And it might only be one boy now and again..."

I felt her soft lips graze my cheek. "Make him a hunky Sixth Form boy, 
Miss. He can be good at games while still being my intellectual equal. Not 
like Darren, you know, Miss." Then she leaned toward the mirror again and 
lifted her breasts with both hands, studying the effect. It seemed to appeal 
to her. "You know what they're like over there at Lord Ted's, Miss. Since 
they had their orgy with the Juniors, they'll all be crazy for huge tits. How 
about a little bit extra for me, Miss. Only another half a metre or so will do 
for now. Or maybe two feet. You can let me keep my beautiful shape, my 
fullness and my captivating jiggle. My slender waist and sculptured 
buttocks. My shapely legs and creamy thighs guarding the glistening 
portals to an exquisitely tight cunny. Please, Miss?"

"But you're a minor, Toria. You can't have an older boy!"

"It didn't seem to matter to you when Clarrie was getting off with Davie all 
those times. He was a minor and she was an adult! So much for your fine 
principles!"

"That was different. The situation was confused."

"Yeah, I bet it was, too. Here's my lover-doll. Don't forget the boys, Miss!"

I passed Darren in the doorway. We managed to exchange looks of mutual 
suffering.


**********

"Chauntaille! Just the person I wanted to see."

Moggie slithered to a halt in the middle of the main corridor. A group of 
Fifth Form girls of almost indescribable loveliness collided with her and 
crashed to the floor in a welter of tumbled books and exploding bras. 
Muffled curses rang out in cultured Middle English voices. Moggie ignored 
them.

"Ignore them, Miss," I advised. "They were following far too close behind 
you under the conditions. It's the same every time the cleaners polish this 
floor: madness. Someone stops suddenly and the scene is like a battlefield."

"Are you feeling all right, Chauntaille? You look a little pale. Been 
overdoing things between the sheets?"

Several of the girls recovering from their accident stared at me and giggled 
among themselves. I aimed a blow and succeeded in hitting one of them 
just above her perfectly formed and shell-like ear. The others gathered 
round her offering sympathy and moistened handkerchiefs to staunch the 
bleeding. "I'm okay, Miss. But I just came from the sick bay. Visiting 
Victoria, Miss."

"Ah, young Victoria. Splendid girl, although she could do with a bit more 
breast on her. One doesn't like to see an older girl overshadowed by her 
younger sister, especially breastwise. How is she doing, anyway, and how's 
Darren holding up?"

Damn the woman. Did she know everything?

"Darren's looking tired, as well he might. Victoria's well-nigh insatiable, he 
says."

Moggie snorted. "Most boys would give their cock for a job like that."

"Or their right arm."

"That too, probably. If they didn't have one, they wouldn't really need the 
other." Moggie nudged me heavily to reinforce her punchline. Her blow 
was absorbed by my flesh. "God, look at the size of you, Shan! I'd heard 
you'd got even fatter, but I didn't believe it. Actually, it suits you." She 
reached around the side of my breast and grabbed a love handle. "Got time 
for a quickie in my office?"

"Not really, Miss. I've got to take over Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen's 
Wanking class with the Fifths. I thought I'd do something on faking with 
them. You know, Toria thinks Darren is faking all his orgasms. He always 
says the same thing, like: 'Oooh, Toria, oooh, VicTORIA'. Usually a dead 
give-away, she says."

Moggie suddenly had a hunted look on her face. "Is that a fact? Hmmm. I'd 
never looked at it that way before. The child could well be right. We'd 
better include that in the syllabus. Anyway, Chauntaille, what about this 
Open Day?"

"This WHAT?"

"Open Day. All the parents come along, meet each other, meet the staff. Not 
just the ones with girls here now, the ones who will have girls joining after 
the summer. Earn loads of cash, we could buy the school a minibus, or 
something. A brilliant idea of mine. All we need to decide is when to have 
it."

"YOUR idea? I mean, what a good idea. Nobody else would ever have 
thought of that."

"Thank you, Chauntaille. We older ones do still have something to 
contribute to society, you know. We're not just patiently waiting our turn 
to die." She wiped away a tear and I hugged her sincerely.

"There, there, Miss!"

"You sure you don't have time for a fuck? Skip this class, it's only the 
Fifths. They can get by without learning about fake orgasms. Come on, 
bunk off in my office. Let me eat my fill from the contents of your 
unbelievable girl-chasm."

"My what, Miss?"

"It was something I read in a comic I confiscated from Rumiko, Shan. 
Lovely artwork. Japanese. Actually, the heroine looked a lot like some of 
our girls. Gigantic tits, she had ..."

"You speak Japanese, Miss?"

"I've picked up a little on my travels. 

I realise now, I will never have the sheer brain-power needed to become a 
headmistress.


**********

It was a good day for looking up old friends. I collided with Smegs as I 
rounded the corner by the Fifth Form classroom. Actually, I was avoiding a 
carelessly-driven wheelbarrow, and lost control on the recently polished 
floor. While I was down there, I took the opportunity of looking up Smegs's 
skirt. As I say, it was a good day for that sort of thing. 

"Shan, are you all right? No, don't move. Let me check for broken bones." 
Her hands were warm and eager across my body. I yearned for her.

"Sit on my face, Smegs, please," I begged desperately.

She recognised my need, removed her panties in a single flowing motion 
and complied without a moment's hesitation. Girls averted their gaze 
respectfully as they passed.

"Where were you going, Shan?" she shouted politely.

"Just here. Fifths Wanking. Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen has gone in the 
fetlock: broken a nail or something." I suppose my voice was muffled, but 
Smegs raised her bottom a couple of inches until I had finished.

She sat down again with a soft squelch. "I had a great idea just a few 
minutes ago."

"Oh, yes. What was that?"

"An orgy. Not the girls. Well, not just the girls. Parents as well. And some of 
the lads from Lord Ted's. I thought we could describe it as a school Open 
Day. We could make a lot of money. Well, St Cat's would, anyway, not us. 
Enough to buy a minibus. We could use it to carry girls to and from Lord 
Ted's and stuff like that. What do you think?"

"It's brilliant," I shouted into Smegs's nether regions. I could swear I heard 
an echo. "Who else would ever think of an idea like that? St Cat's Open Day. 
When?"

"As soon as we can. I thought I'd better see Moggie about it."

"Yes, I should. She might even surprise you and say it's a great idea."

"It might need selling to her, but I think it has great possibilities. Actually, 
Marvin suggested it ..."

"Marvin?" Was it my imagination, or had it started raining.

"Marvin ...!" said Smegs dreamily. No, it wasn't my imagination, and no, it 
wasn't raining. Ah well, my hair needed washing tonight anyway.


**********

"Hi, Corinne, how's your tits?"

"Wow. I think they're starting to level off. They're not much bigger now 
than they were at lunchtime." She looked at me. "Your hair looks nice. 
What are you using? New shampoo?"

"Er, yes. I thought I'd give it a try."

"Hmmm, nice. Smells nice, too. Must be the natural oils and essences."

"Something like that."

I knew what was coming. "What's it called?" How did I know that was 
coming?

"Marv something. Marvel? Smegs has got plenty more."

"Would she let me have some, do you think?"

"Oh, I'm sure she would."

"Only I don't know her all that well ..."

"No, I'm sure it would be no problem, Cee. Just ask her for some of the 
stuff she gave Shan outside the Fifth Form classroom ..."





Chapter 81:- Cream Me


"Miss, could we come in?"

I sighed. The place was becoming more like a common room every day.

"What is it, Suzanne. Pansy?"

"We had an idea, Miss."

"We wondered if it would be something Miss Thunderbolt would let us do, 
Miss."

"Could you ask her for us?"

"She likes you, Miss."

"What was it?"

"A Grand St Cat's Open Day, Miss!"

"Like a big day with all the parents coming along and meeting the teachers, 
and everything, and we could meet the new girls' mums and dads as well. 
And show them round ..."

"And they could have tea under the trees by Clit and Flaps's place ... St 
Cat's would make tons of money. We could buy a bus to carry us around. 
All over the place. To other schools ...!"

"You had this idea all by yourselves?"

"Yes, Miss. Today, in class. It sort of came to us both at the same time."

"Remarkable! And when would you be thinking of holding this event?"

"This summer, Miss. Not too late."

"No, we need to have it before Pansy starts showing."

"Showing?"

"You know, Miss!" Suzanne held her hands in front of her stomach as if to 
indicate that she was carrying sextuplets. The effect was lessened only 
slightly by the fact that her hands were still a foot or so short of the 
protrusion of her bust.

"Well, yes, that's true. It wouldn't do to have too many obviously pregnant 
Juniors waddling around."

"So it would have to be before the summer. 'Cos by September, she'll be six 
months gone."

"Yes, Miss, If we were to have it in May, say, my tummy would still be 
small, it would just be my tits starting to get big." Pansy had obviously 
been reading the pregnancy text-books. "We could have it in June, or July, 
and they'd be enormous by then! Insanely huge! With any luck, Miss."

"Of course, Pansy. They probably would be."

"So will you tell Miss Thunderbolt, Miss? For us?"

"Do you think she'll let us do it?"

"I think she may look very favourably on the idea."

"One thing, Miss." Pansy had gone red and spoke very softly. "Could some 
boys come. Some of the Lord Ted's boys? Please?"

"If it's an Open Day, we couldn't really refuse them, could we?" The girls 
returned my conspiratorial grin.

"Oooh, Miss!" they both shrieked.

"Careful, now, Pansy. Think about the baby!"


**********

"Funny thing, Shannie."

"Funny?"

Corinne raised her head to try and see my face, but her breast was far too 
big. She sighed heavily.

"I asked Megan for some of the shampoo she'd let you have, but she didn't 
seem to know anything about it. She's a strange girl, Shan."

"Strange?"

"Hmm. I said she gave you the shampoo outside the Fifth Form classroom, 
and she laughed. A sort of dirty cackle, it was, and she told me to lie down 
on the floor so she could sit on my face."

"She did? What did you do?"

"I said, no thank you very much, I'd rather not if she didn't mind. And she 
sort of shrugged and said, 'some you win, some you lose'. Strange girl. Pity. 
Your hair looked so nice."

"You'll have to get some next time you go shopping."

"Oh, yeah? Me, shopping? I couldn't get round the revolving door into 
Tesco's. I'd never get down the aisles, and if I did, I wouldn't be able to see 
what was on the shelves in front of me, and if I could, I'd never be able to 
reach it, and if I did, I'd knock everything off every shelf for miles around 
with my tits."

"Oh, poor Cee! And you wouldn't be able to get through the check-out 
either. Never mind. Someone else can do your shopping for you. Anastasia 
will do it."

"Huh. Anastasia! She'll be as bad as me, the way hers are growing! Give her 
six months ...! By the time she gets back here after the summer hols, she 
won't be able to get her knockers through that bloody door."

"Cee, don't say that. It's horrible. Imagine that poor child being as big as 
you. She'd never be able to turn round in that little room next door. I'd 
have to move out of here and let her move in with you."

"They might have to build a whole new building just for the two of us if we 
carry on getting bigger. It was a mistake, getting creamed."

"It's making you really miserable, isn't it, Cee?"

She sighed heavily again. It was a good evening for sighing heavily. "Yes, I 
suppose so. I know they're great for you in bed and everything - although 
I sometimes have nightmares about finding you crushed beneath one of 
them - but it's possible to have too much of a good thing."

"How about an antidote to FatLite, Cee? Would it work?"

"You mean, make them more dense again, and back to their original size?"

"Well, which would you prefer? Honestly? These, or the way you were?"

"I don't know! How about a good old British compromise? Somewhere in 
between? How about half this size? Like I was before I went and 
SuperLitened them?"

"If I got the girls to work on it, you'd give it a try?"

"Anything would be better than this, Shan. I never thought I'd come to 
think of being able to walk down the aisle of a supermarket as a pleasure, 
but I think I'd give anything to be able to do it right now."

I couldn't bear to see Corinne like this. "I'm not going to wait until the 
morning. This is urgent. I'm going to see the First Form Sexual Chemistry 
Group girls now. We'll put on a special night-shift and work until we have 
perfected the antidote to FatLite."

"What will you call it? SuperShrink?"

"Let's just call it the Sensible Option. We've been crazy, trying to make 
breasts bigger and bigger. I'm sure, once all the girls have tried FatLite and 
SuperLite, they will all agree with you and want to be a reasonable size 
again, like 150 inches."

"You could make them as small as that? Oh, Shan, that would be amazing!"

She tried to drag me into bed, but I was resolute. See you later, Corinne.


**********

I decided not to rope Anastasia in on this, but to ask only the two cousins. 
They owed me a favour anyway, for asking Moggie to approve their plans 
for a the St Cat's Grand Open Day. They were in the dorm, looking bored, 
and when I asked if they would come down to the lab with me, they were 
ready like a shot.

"You could have asked for a few seconds to put your bras on, girls, I would 
have waited."

"It's all right, Miss, we always take them off in the evenings." Suzanne was 
deliberately walking with an exaggerated swing of the hips which was 
most disturbing. 

"Are you sure you're used to not wearing a bra, Suzanne? "I asked, as 
Pansy and I helped her to her feet.

"Yes, Miss," she said huffily. "It's this slippery polished floor. It ought to be 
against the law, Miss."

"You'd better try holding them still while you're walking, dear. It's for the 
best!"

We had arrived at the lab.

"Have you got a formula, Miss?" Pansy opened her notebook efficiently, 
pencil poised.

"Let's see your notes, Pan."

We studied the formula for FatLite, and the next page, the SuperLite 
additive. Together, we puzzled over the ingredients. It was Suzanne's idea.

"Let's do away with *that* stuff there, Miss. That's what reacts with the 
stuff in Super. If we take that out, and replace it with something harmless, 
we should be able to reverse the action. Look," she pointed with a stubby 
finger. "That's the one that makes the fat swell up and get lighter."

"Are you sure, Suze?" I didn't feel confident, although Suzanne had a very 
real feel for this sort of work.

"Yes, Miss. It will work. We will make up a cream to the new formula. Rub 
it on breasts that have been SuperLitened, and they will resume their 
original size. The weight will stay the same as it was, and the breasts will 
be reduced in size to the correct relationship."

"In that case, Miss," Pansy put in, "why not have the cream in two parts, 
and add the active breast reducing ingredient in different amounts, 
depending on how much reduction you need? So, Miss Meadowlark could 
be reduced to half her present size if she liked. She'd be nice if she was 
half her present size." She blushed hotly.

That sounded good to me. "Get mixing, girls!" I encouraged them.

"We can't, Miss," said Pansy simply. "We need Shona. For the milk."

"We do? Fetch her then. Tell her to bring her breasts with her."

"We can't. She's just been milked. Nurse took two gallons. We're right out 
of milk until the morning."

"You can use ordinary cow's milk and sugar, Pan. It worked last time!" 
Suzanne nudged her cousin.

"It didn't," Pansy hissed. "That was what was wrong with it last time. It 
was why it got out of control."

"Well, that's all right then. If it got out of control because you used cow and 
sugar, then we should use cow and sugar in the reversing cream, shouldn't 
we? You know it makes sense, Pan!"

It seemed logical enough to me. "Get mixing, girls! I'll nip to the staff room 
and steal some sugar and milk."

By the time I returned, a mixture was already bubbling away in a large 
beaker. "What do I do with the sugar and milk?" I asked.

"Just toss it in the beaker, Miss." Suzanne gave it a hearty stir. It made a 
very rude noise and the girls giggled. I didn't think that sort of thing was 
funny.

"How long before it's ready to use?"

"Another hour, if we can cool it off quickly. By bedtime. Shall we bring it 
up to your room, Miss?"

"Thank you, Suzanne. Knock three times."


**********

"Has she gone?"

"I'd better check. Yeah, Suze. Carry on."

Suzanne poured the contents of the beaker away and started mixing 
another batch.

"She wouldn't have understood if we'd tried to explain. You know she can't 
follow logic. This brew will do the same as the other stuff, but ten times as 
quick. Remember the way the original boob juice worked when Shona fell 
in the vat? You could nearly watch her grow. That's what Miss 
Gruntworthy wants, she hasn't got time to hang around while Miss 
Meadowlark slowly gets back to where she used to be. If she creams her 
boobs with this stuff, she'll be back to her old size in an hour." She stirred 
briskly then threw the wooden stirrer on the bench. It promptly burst into 
flames. "Oh, shit! I thought we'd solved that problem."

"Are you sure about this, Suze?"

"It'll be all right, Pan. Trust me."


**********

"Are you sure you made enough, girls?"

They panted into the bedroom and dumped three huge tubs of cream on 
the floor. Suzanne added a fourth tub, rather smaller.

"That little one is the additive," puffed Suzanne. "We made plenty of the 
main cream, in case you use too much of the additive. If you do, and it 
starts working too much, you can just slop on some more of the main stuff 
and it will slow it down. See, Miss, we thought of everything!"

"You seem to have done, yes. Well done, girls."

"Where is Miss Meadowlark, Miss?" Pansy looked disappointed at missing 
her loved one.

"She'll be back in a minute. Look, I've just done my nails. Pansy, would you 
like to rub the cream on to Miss Meadowlark?"

"Oooh, Miss!" The poor girl became incandescent. "Oooh, Miss!"

"I'll leave you to it, Pan," said her cousin, thumping her on the shoulder 
and disappearing out of the door. "See you, Miss. Good luck!" What did she 
mean by that?

"Well, Pansy, you seem to have landed the job."

"Oooh, Miss!" She seemed overcome.

Corinne came back into the room, towelling her hair. "I'd rather have used 
some of Megan's shampoo, but I used the last of that stuff in the bottle 
from the kitchen. Hi, Pansy. You were quick. Is that the new cream. What 
are you calling it? Heavy?"

"N-n-n-no, Miss. We hadn't actually thought of an actual name yet, Miss, 
actually!"

"Never mind, Pansy," I reassured her. "Pansy's going to cream you, Corinne. 
My nails aren't dry."

"Ooh, that will be nice, Pansy. I'll just finish drying myself. Or you could do 
it if you like. Here." She tossed Pansy a towel. The girl couldn't believe 
what was happening to her. She was suddenly face to breast with her 
heroine and inamorata, drying the droplets from her back and breasts. At 
any moment, she was going to be smoothing cream into those stupendously 
over-developed breasts, using both hands, and paying particular attention 
to their undersides. Pansy looked nervously at the three tubs of cream. She 
was beginning to doubt if there would be enough to cover Miss 
Meadowlark. 

"Come on, then, Pansy, darling," Corinne reclined on the bed. "I hope your 
little hands are nice and warm. Come and cream Miss Meadowlark" 

"Oooh, Miss!"

She peeled the lid off the first tub, hesitated and tipped a small quantity of 
additive into it. "Could I borrow a spoon to stir this, Miss," she asked me. 
"A metal one would be best."

Ten minutes later, one of Corinne's breasts was thoroughly creamed, and 
Pansy was priming the second tub with additive. She seemed to be gaining 
in confidence.

"We'll have a whole tub left over, Miss," she said as she stirred the brew. 
"I'm sure I got the quantity of additive right. You'd have enough to do 
Anastasia if she wanted it. Although, knowing her, I doubt if she'll be 
happy until she's twice as big as Miss Meadowlark. Here we go ...! And she 
glopped a great handful of cream on to Corinne's right nipple. Corinne 
closed her eyes and surrendered herself to ecstasy once more.


**********

The birds woke me in the morning. I had spent the night in the armchair, 
to give Corinne and her breasts plenty of room in the bed. She had started 
moaning and kicking sometime around midnight, so I got out of bed and 
curled up with a blanket.

I wondered about paying Smegs a nocturnal visit, but figured that if she 
was not alone, it could be embarrassing for all three of us. Or all six, if 
Smegs was feeling lonely. The thought even crossed my mind of climbing 
in with Anastasia, but that bed of mine was so narrow, neither of us would 
have got any sleep.

So when the birds woke me, I wasn't feeling too charitable, not to birds nor 
to hyper-busty girls. There was a whimpering noise coming from the bed. 
It wouldn't go away, even when I wrapped the blanket round my head.

"What's the matter?" I stomped over to the bed and glared down at 
Corinne.

"I can't move, Shan!"

"What do you mean?" Her legs were thrashing about, and her arms as well.

"I'm stuck. My back won't move. My breasts ..."

A thought struck me. Turning back the bed covers, I saw Corinne's 
mammoth breasts lying on each side of her body. They were just as big as 
before, yet somehow, in an indefinable way, they looked different. What 
was it? "Excuse me," I murmured, and rested a hand on her breast, giving 
it a gentle shove. It hardly moved. My hand just sort of sank into the soft 
flesh.

"What are you doing?" She raised her head to try and see, then let it fall 
back on to the pillow.

"Your breast won't move!"

"That's what I'm telling you. I can't move them. They're stuck to the bed. 
Either that, or they're ..."

"Heavy. They're heavy, Cee!" I used both hands, and tried to roll the nearer 
of her breasts like a great big snowball. Like a great big snowball stuck in 
the snow by its own weight, it wouldn't roll. I could rock it an inch or so 
from side to side. More effort. This time, her breast did move, rolling 
massively until it came up against the side of her body, then it fell back, 
rolled perhaps a quarter turn in my direction, then settled massively 
where it had started. "Oh, shit!"

"They weigh tons, don't they?" Corinne's voice cracked into a sob.

"Can't be tons, the bed would have collapsed. It might just be the way 
you're lying. Can you sit up at all?" I slipped a hand behind her back and 
tried to levitate her. She achieved a little, and I banged a pillow in behind 
her. Her forehead was shining with sweat and I mopped at it with a 
hankie.

"It's no use, Shan!"

"Try again. Sit up and move your bottom up the bed. I'll help you. Take 
your time." We managed to get her almost sitting upright, but her breasts 
were trying to drag her down. The skin and the flesh was stretching like a 
rubber toy.

"There!" Two more pillows wedged her in position. Now she could see more 
of her predicament rather than just feeling it. She wasn't encouraged by 
what she could see.

"How am I going to get out of this bed? They must weigh ten times what 
they weighed before. Each one must weigh more than the rest of me!"

Ah, good! She was starting to show a sense of proportion at last. An 
encouraging sign. "We're going to need a few helpers to carry them for you. 
You won't be able to let them dangle. They'll reach the floor anyway, but 
they'll still break bones or something. Let's sit and think about what we're 
going to do about it."

"Yes, we'll sit, shall we? Perhaps you can tell me what else I can do. I can't 
move a muscle. I might as well have been turned to stone."

"Cee, darling. All that's happened is that your breasts are as heavy as 
normal ones would be if they were as big as yours. The fat has returned to 
its normal density. That was what the cream was supposed to do. The only 
trouble is, it's worked the wrong way round. We don't know what your 
bust measurement was last night, but it was certainly something more 
than eighteen feet. It didn't really matter apart from curiosity."

"Eighteen feet? What will it be now?"

"Probably the same. They're just two or three times as heavy now. I dare 
say three or four strong girls could lift each one. Trouble will be getting a 
grip on them. They're soft and slippery and rubbery and there's nothing to 
grab a hold of. Once the girls have the weight on their shoulders, you'll be 
able to move around all over the place!"

"With eight girls?"

"There might be a problem getting them all to walk the same way as each 
other. It's a question of discipline. Like a team of huskies. Of course, since 
they're girls, not dogs, we can't harness them together. Civil liberties and 
rubbish like that. So they'll tend to wander off on their own, I suppose. You 
know what schoolgirls are like. Boys might be better. We would probably 
be allowed to use harnesses on boys. You'll be okay, Cee! A week or so, and 
we'll have you skipping around like a two-year-old."

"You're just trying to make it seem easier for me, Shan! It was hard enough 
getting these things to go where I wanted to go when I was driving them 
myself. What's it going to be like when four boys are taking the right tit 
one way and four more boys are taking the left one the other?"

"I'm only trying to help, Cee! I just spent the whole night in that poxing 
armchair because of you and your bloody enormous tits. Now I try and 
help you get about with them, you don't want to know." I stood up and 
stalked to the door. "Find your own team of huskies, you ungrateful bitch!"

As I slammed the door behind me, I heard a strangled sob. Typical of 
Corinne to turn on the tears to try and wheedle her way round me.

I would come back and let her make it up to me later. Meanwhile, Smegs 
would know what to do.





Part XXVIII





Chapter 82:- The Organisation Woman


"Smegs? You awake?" I pounded on the door gently.

"What the fuck, Shan? Come in!" Her voice was muffled with sleep. Or 
perhaps it was buried in the snatch of her current favourite young lady.

"You're alone!" I turned back the duvet to make sure she wasn't hiding a 
small girl somewhere down there in the bed.

"You came in here and woke me up just to find that out? What's the time, 
anyway?"

"Half past. I'll make us some coffee. Sorry!"

Smegs turned over on to her back and sat up in the foetid bed for a good 
morning scratch n' sniff.

"Too late now to be sorry, Shan. I'm awake. What's up? Corinne thrown you 
out?"

"No! I came of my own accord. She's the reason I wanted to see you. I 
spent the night in the armchair. And I could have been in here with you!"

"I might not have let you. So she did throw you out, then?"

"No, I couldn't sleep with her moaning all night. Here!" I thrust a mug of 
coffee into Smegs's hand.

She inhaled deeply on it and made a wry face. "Did you make this with 
Shona?"

"No, cow."

"Shit."

"Cee's grown again, Smegs." I perched on the corner of the bed.

"Grown? What have you done to her this time?"

"Nothing. It was those girls again. Actually, she hasn't grown. She's the 
same size, but heavier. About the right weight for the size of her breasts."

"Bloody hell!" Smegs was impressed. "She won't be able to move."

"She can't. That's why I came to see you. She's miserable and we had a row 
about it, and I stormed out. But she really can't move them off the bed. 
They'll be far too big for a wheelbarrow; it will take three or four girls 
each side just to carry them."

"They won't be able to," Smegs asserted firmly.

"What?"

"I read a story once where a girl was so big it took a whole load of boys to 
carry each of her tits. I remember thinking at the time, it wouldn't work, it 
would hurt too much to pick them up."

"It would?"

"Tits are covered in skin. Imagine three or four pairs of little hands trying 
to get a grip on your breasts at the same time. It's easier for you to 
imagine than it is for me. Imagine those little fingers, with sharp little 
fingernails, pinching the skin, squeezing, twisting ..."

I was beginning to feel it.

"... and trying to find room to get a hold of them. Where are three girls 
going to stand on each side of you to pick them up. Look ...!"

She smoothed out the bed covers in front of her and laid out her pillows in 
front of her. One breast here, and the other one ... here. Say three girls on 
each side of the bed. Make it four. They can't all get close enough to lift. 
That's just for starters."

"There's more?"

"Tell me about it! Assume they can get those things hoisted off the bed and 
on to their shoulders, or in their arms, cradled. Where are they going to 
go? They will have to walk straight down and past the end of the bed. 
Where your tits go, you will surely follow. So you go straight off the end of 
the bed as well. And then you have to stand up. If those eight little 
bastards don't rip your tits off first! It would be excruciating, even 
assuming you could train your eight little angels to go and stop and turn 
corners."

"Yes, Cee mentioned that. I thought they'd learn in time."

"There's another thing. Four girls each side. They'll have to walk on the 
outside of Corinne's breasts. Say they're walking in a straight line, out in 
the open. The girls will have to be as close in as possible with her boobs 
squashed together in the middle. Her boobs will be up on the kids' 
shoulders. Corinne won't have a clue where she's going because her tits 
will be up way above her eye-level. That's even if we use the shortest girls 
we can find. But we can't use the tinies from the First Form, they won't be 
strong enough to pick the tits up in the first place ..."

"Smegs, stop it!"

"... so they'll have to be Middle girls at least. Fourth Formers. And have you 
looked at our Fourth Formers lately? What have they all got growing on 
their chests?"

"Tits, Smegs."

"Not just tits. Whacking great tits, Shan. So if you have four of them 
walking along in line behind each other, they're going to need to be more 
than a foot apart. So poor Corinne is going to have her tits stretched out 
about eight feet in front of her, just to fit the girls in. It isn't going to 
work."

"We could use boys. Boys don't have tits. They could walk closer together."

Smegs stared at me. "Where, in a girls' school, are we going to find eight 
boys?"

"Advertise for them?"

"You would hope to attract eight boys to work full time in a girls' school, 
doing nothing all day but carrying fucking great tits around for a teacher? 
Get real, Shan!"

"I suppose so. There'd be no harm in advertising, though, would there?"


**********

It was Moggie's idea to place a full page ad in the national daily press. I 
would have been in favour of something more discreet, in the local paper, 
asking for a team of strong boys of below average height for interesting 
duties. Some lifting involved.

We had fourteen thousand applications.

As the Royal Mail van drove away after the fourth delivery that day, I 
spoke to Moggie about it.

"You can't just ignore them, Miss. You have to reply to them all. It's 
common courtesy."

"There are thousands, Chauntaille. All those stamps. And more are still 
coming in every hour." A team of naked First Form girls was stacking the 
mail in piles, the largest being for instant rejections. One pile was almost a 
foot high, and growing slowly. "Look at that heap, Shan," said Moggie. 
"Those are local applicants with the right qualifications." She thumbed 
through a handful of letters. "It looks as if Lord Edward's school has 
applied en masse."

"Are we going to interview them all?"

"It's not just an interview. We need to test them in groups of four, lifting a 
heavy weight. I'd thought we could find a goatskin bag and fill it with 
melted butter, or something. And we need to know that they can respond 
to directions. If three of them turn left and the fourth turns right, it could 
be disastrous. We'll need them here for half a day. It will need to be 
organised like a military operation."

"As badly as that?"

"Every bit of it. Ideally, we'd need an organiser to plan the details. I 
thought Corinne could do that very well."

"How can she do it? They're her fucking tits. Miss," I added respectfully, as 
an afterthought.

"Well, could you organise it? I don't think YOU could organise a piss-up in a 
brewery."

I began to cry.

"Chauntaille! Don't take it personally. It's just that if it goes wrong, under 
the eyes of the press and the media, we'd be a laughing stock."

"The press? The media? Why?"

"Excellent publicity for St Catherine's High School for Girls. 'Local girls' 
school creates twenty-four new youth jobs. "More to come," asserts 
Headmistress,'" gushed Moggie in a positive welter of nested quotation 
marks. "I already invited the press. And knowing our reputation, the 
television will be down here as well."

"Wait a minute. Twenty-four? We only need eight."

"Three shifts. Six 'til two, two 'til ten and ten 'til six. The shift not working 
and not sleeping will be training new recruits in the skills of breast lifting 
and carrying."

"New recruits? What for? It's only Corinne who's got giant tits."

"So far, it's only Corinne, I grant you. But next year? What if Cassandra 
grows? Or Shona? Or Anastasia? We could need dozens of teams of lifters 
and carriers. Not necessarily eights, but sixes and fours. And who knows? 
Maybe twelves!"

"When is it, Miss? When are you going to do it?"

"Next Tuesday, Chauntaille. You have two days, not counting the weekend. 
Organise it, please!"


**********

I went back to the bedroom and lay down on the bed. Perhaps if I had a 
good cry, everything would work itself out.

"What are you doing about getting me out of this bed, Shan?" Corinne 
sounded unnecessarily peevish again.

"We're going to interview a thousand applicants on Tuesday. I have to 
organise it. And it's all for you."

"A thousand? We only want eight kids!"

"Moggie advertised. She got fourteen thousand replies. They're still coming 
in."

"The stupid cow. All it needed was a phone call to the employment office. 
And you've got a thousand coming in?"

And the press. And television.  What am I going to do, Cee?"

"Organise it, Shan," she said considerately. "I'll just lie here and dream 
about having a piss occasionally. But I'll tell you what I'll do. If you can get 
a team of girls over here in the next five minutes to get me to the loo, I'll 
help you organise your interview day. Fair enough?"

"Oh, Cee!"

"Mmmmmm, Shan!" We kissed deeply. "Better make it three minutes. I'm 
going to explode."


**********

There were two groups of four girls from the Fourth Form. I solved the 
problem of their breasts taking up too much room fore and aft by getting 
them to lower their ScatBras to the eating position. They looked strangely 
depressing with their breasts hanging down around their tummies, but at 
least they could stand in a more compact line.

It was a total shambles, but they got Corinne out of bed. For ten minutes, 
they screamed conflicting orders at each other while I stood on a chair 
directing operations and having mild hysterics.

Corinne got a fit of the giggles half way through, so she was no help at all. 
Typical. 

Eventually, each team succeeded in spreading a bed sheet beneath each of 
Corinne's breasts. They brought the four corners to the top and placed 
them over their shoulders. It was rather like those pictures of the stork 
delivering babies.

At last, with everyone ready, I shouted "one, two, three, HUP!" and the 
whole lot rose slowly into the air, with the girls staggering and jostling 
each other, trying to keep position without treading on each other's toes. 
They weren't doing very well. Mercifully, each girl was lifting the sheet 
with only one hand, so they all had a hand free to punch the girl nearest to 
them.

"Forward slowly." All eight of them processed slowly down the sides of the 
bed, snorting, giggling, jostling and punching. Corinne carefully slid off the 
end of the bed, following faithfully behind. Somehow, the two teams came 
to a negotiated agreement about which of them was to go through the 
doorway first, and off they went, with Corinne waving and blowing a kiss 
over her shoulder as she disappeared.

Clearly, this situation was not a satisfactory solution to the problem. Should 
I tell Moggie, so we could call off the whole absurd charade of recruiting 
two dozen boys to carry breasts around for eight hours out of every 
twenty-four?

If I did, how else was Corinne going to get around?

There was only one possible solution. Chemistry had got us into this 
predicament. Chemistry would have to get us out of it.


**********

"Did you see Miss Meadowlark, Miss?" Suzanne and Pansy were excited, 
hopping up and down as they tried to describe the scene. I wished they 
wouldn't jump around that like that. It looked horribly painful.

"We passed them in the quad, Miss," said Pansy. "A whole crowd of Fourth 
Formers carrying Miss Meadowlark's boobs in a sheet, all giggling and 
wobbling about all over the place."

"Miss Meadowlark was shouting at them, and they weren't taking any 
notice, Miss."

"And Miss Meadowlark didn't have a nightie on," whispered Pansy, 
blushing. "No clothes at all, Miss! She's got a lovely little bottom, Miss!" She 
shuddered as if enjoying a spontaneous orgasm.

"Where did they go?"

"Round the block. They disappeared."

I supposed Corinne had fancied a walk now she'd had a brief taste of 
freedom. The girls would have to bring her back soon, it was quite chilly 
out there.

"The girls at the front of her boobs were sucking her nipples, Miss," said 
Suzanne, who had an eye for such trivia.

At least, Corinne's nipples wouldn't get too cold.

"Help me change the sheets and make the bed for when she gets back, 
girls. And while we're doing that, we can discuss how we're going to make 
her lighter again."

An argument broke out about the chemical aspects of the task, but I 
thought they reached a consensus in the end.

"No problem, Miss," Suzanne said airily. "I can see where you went wrong 
last time now."

"I went wrong? ME?"

"It's all right, Miss," Pansy reassured me, "we won't tell Miss Meadowlark. 
We'll just make her all better. All we need to do is to cream her with 
ordinary FatLite again, and her boobs will get lighter."

"As simple as that, you reckon?"

"Yes, Miss. It's straightforward enough. This is like what we did to 
Anastasia when she shrank. The other way around, that's all. We just made 
her bigger, no side effects or anything. Look at her now."

I couldn't look at her now, she wasn't here, but there was the nagging 
feeling that Anastasia's dimensions hadn't been stable since she had been 
creamed the last time. She had been steadily growing either bigger or 
heavier ever since.

Of course, I told myself. That was only natural. Anastasia was still a 
growing girl.

Corinne wasn't, was she?





Chapter 83:- Get This Show On The Road 


"We had a lovely walk. Right round the edge of the woods, past Jeremy's 
shed. A bit chilly, but it was good to get out."

"You should have dressed, Cee. You'll catch your death, going out naked 
like that."

"We kept moving. Anyway, we had to go out. We couldn't get through the 
doors into the loo."

"It's as wide as this one. What's the problem?"

"It's a staff toilet. The girls aren't allowed in. They said, at least, Daisy said 
... she was the pack leader ... she said it was more than their job was worth, 
going in the staff toilets. She said they'd take me to the door and from then 
on I was on my own."

"But that's no use. You can't walk."

"I know. I told her. She was sympathetic, but rules are rules, she said. If 
the rules were changed to make all toilets available to all users, girls as 
well as staff, she would be the first to assist me to my seat. Meawhile, she 
regretted her inability to be of assistance. Those were her exact words."

"Pompous, officious bitch, over-inflated with her own importance ...!"

"Over-inflated all right. The tits on her! She got the job of pack leader 
because her tits are the biggest."

"She's nothing! They're only ninety-two inches, and she's not exactly 
sylph-like!"

"She's still the biggest in the team, and that counts for everything at St 
Cat's. Still, once I agreed to go in the woods, she was nice as pie. She sucked 
my left nipple all the way round the whole walk. And Stephanie 
Thundersley sucked the other one. It's a wonder the milk didn't come 
back."

"So you went for a wee in the woods?"

"I'm sure you don't want me to give you all the details, Shan. And yes, it 
was most enjoyable. An enormous relief."

"I'm so happy for you. Now are you going to help with the organisation for 
these interviews?"

"You're still going ahead with those? I'm sure my girls could do a good job 
once they learned to follow directions."

"Moggie's orders," I said regretfully. "Boys it has to be."

Corinne sighed. "I suppose so. And it will be a nice change, having boys to 
talk to. Who knows what might come up in the course of conversation."

"Corinne! They're only children!"

"Oh, I'm sure you can find a sprinkling of over-sixteens in case I get an 
appetite for a bite of hot salt pork while I'm out walking."

I'm beginning to worry about Corinne. She never used to be like this.


**********

Fortunately, it wasn't raining.

If it had rained, where could we have accommodated the best part of a 
thousand teenage boys indoors at St Cat's without them coming into 
intimate contact with the student body? The thought was enough to make 
me break out in a cold sweat.

A fleet of double decker buses operated a shuttle service to the station in 
the town. As fast as each bus disgorged its load of nervous, foot-shuffling, 
gawping boys, another swung in off the main road and down the drive. 
Empty buses departed by way of the goods entrance to avoid unnecessary 
and costly head-on collisions.

Carefully hand-picked Second Form girls met the buses and checked off 
the boys' names against a master list. Each boy was given a red or yellow 
sticker to wear on his lapel, and a numbered card.

Other boys arrived by taxi, or in their parents' cars. As they arrived, these 
were met by a team of Third Form girls with clipboards, who handed them 
a special green lapel sticker. The interviewing teams, which would meet 
the boys and assess them for suitability, were briefed to observe the 
colour of the lapel stickers. Those boys with green were to be singled out 
as potential slackers and trouble-makers.

The bulk of the boys wore red or yellow stickers. The actual colours had no 
significance. The only reason for having two colours was that the office 
supplier had sold out of red stickers and had made up the order with 
yellow. The effect was to make all the boys feel insecure, each wondering 
why his sticker was different from some of the others. This was no bad 
thing.

Up to this time, every precaution had been taken to ensure that the 
interviewees were not allowed to become unduly excited. The welcoming 
teams did not include any girls with more than average sized breasts. 
Some were as small as B cups! They were dressed in their longest, most ill-
fitting skirts, their blouses and blazers were the baggiest they could 
borrow, their hair was tied up or pulled back from their faces in a style 
intended to be as unalluring as possible. Many had borrowed glasses, 
which they took off whenever they desperately needed to see anything.

Thus were the boys lulled into a sense of security and normality.

In the ivy-decked shade of the quadrangle, where the practical testing of 
the applicants was to take place, the zooming eyes of the television 
cameras panned restlessly, awaiting action. Not much was happening as 
yet.

The incoming boys were being fed through an induction process which 
involved them filling out a huge form which demanded a staggering 
amount of information about family, ancestors and education to date. Most 
of the boys were at a loss when it came to answering Question 64:
'What is your maternal grandmother's last known bust measurement?' 
And Questions 65 to 127, all of which demanded measurements and cup 
sizes for every female member of family right down to third cousins.

Many boys were sitting alone, weeping softly, unable to complete even half 
the questions on the form. At this point, they were met by a team of 
counsellors, selected from the most matronly girls in the whole of St Cat's. 
These chubby antiseptic creatures sat with the boys and helped them fill 
in the gaps in their knowledge, gently probing and coaxing the replies from 
the shell-shocked lads with the aid of folders containing photographs and 
sketches showing examples of standard bra cups from A up to T.

Only after this initiation were boys allowed to filter through into the next 
stage of their assessment: the physical examination.

If a 200-question form had not been enough of a shock, what followed 
certainly was. Boys were ushered in groups of twenty into a square room 
with clothes hooks all round the outside walls. There was nowhere to sit; 
nowhere to look apart from at each other. As soon as the room was full, an 
appallingly beautiful and staggeringly well-developed Fourth Form girl 
came in, stood in the middle of the room and told the boys to remove all 
their clothes.

"Hang them on the hooks behind you," she ordered sweetly, and offered 
encouragement to those boys who seemed reluctant to undress. There was 
no alternative. After some considerable time, the whole room-full was 
standing more or less at ease, studying the cracks on the ceiling. The girl 
performed a slow circuit of the room, applying different coloured stickers 
to each boy's left shoulder.

There was more uncertainty and rampant insecurity as the boys glanced at 
their own sticker and compared it with the rest. There seemed to be no 
logical system to the allocation of the colours. In fact, the girl issued them 
entirely at random, although she occasionally tried to make pretty patterns 
with the different colours.

"Thank you," she said at last. "Please go through to the next room! No! 
Leave your clothes there. You will get them back later." And true to her 
word, as soon as each batch of twenty boys had passed through into the 
next stage of their induction, half a dozen Junior girls scampered in and 
piled the clothes into numbered plastic bags.


**********

"How's it going, Cee?"

I came over to the window where she sat looking down over the quad. The 
scene below was becoming more animated, but as yet, no interviewees had 
emerged from induction into the public arena. One or two of the television 
crews which had arrived early and bagged the best spots were beginning 
to look apprehensively at the sun as it tracked round and climbed higher 
in the sky.

"They're getting restless," she said. "If they'd come and asked me, I'd have 
told them nothing was going to happen out there until half past ten at the 
earliest, but no, they always know best. They'll start throwing their weight 
about in a little while, trying to make something happen."

Sure enough, pretty young men with pony-tails and absurd trousers were 
pansying around the quad, yaa-ing and Ciao-ing into mobile phones and 
braying deafeningly at the girls that they needed to speak to someone in 
authority. The girls smiled politely and wobbled their tits, and were 
perplexed when there was no discernible effect. So they did the best 
possible thing and ignored the pony-tailed young men, who flapped their 
hands in outrage and stormed off in search of someone who would show 
proper respect for the media. They didn't find anyone.

"Are you comfortable, perched up there?" I asked Corinne. 

The armchair was balanced on two chests of drawers so Corinne could see 
straight down into the quad without having to move. Her breasts had been 
allowed to drape themselves on each side of the chair, and cushions had 
been piled considerately on the floor for them to rest comfortably without 
being unduly stretched.

"Lovely, thanks, and Anastasia is keeping me supplied with coffee. Best 
seat in the house. Where's Moggie?"

"I haven't seen her." I had, in fact; very early in the day, but she had been 
in earnest discussion with one of the school governors and I had since 
spotted them sneaking off in her BMW. Obviously there was far too much 
hassle for her to stay around the school, and she had decided to find 
somewhere quieter. "Smegs is doing a grand job down there at the coal-
face. She was in the physical examination room when I saw her."

"Yes, I supposed she would be. So according to my timetable," Corinne ran 
a finger down her clipboard, "the first batch ought to be out of physical in 
ten minutes. Then the fun will start down there. Are you staying up here 
to watch, or going downstairs?"

"I'll have to go down for the start, but I'll see you after the first couple of 
batches. Have fun, darling!"

"Oooh, I will," said Corinne, taking a sip of coffee and wriggling her 
delicious bottom into a more comfortable position.


**********

Smegs was in overall charge of the physical examination of the 
interviewees, or specimens as she preferred to think of them. Nurse was 
wielding a stethoscope and cupping the balls of each applicant as they first 
came in, but it was Smegs who strolled around the room, prodding and 
inspecting their teeth as if she was about to buy a batch for her private 
stud farm. She carried no clip-board, not even a notebook and pencil, but 
she oozed authority.

"God, Shan, I'm oozing," she whispered to me. "I am getting seriously hot. 
Teenage boys don't normally have this effect on me. It must be sheer 
weight of numbers. Although there are some fine specimens among the 
older ones."

"Pity about the height regulations, though," I reminded her. The fact that 
the teams of boys would eventually be required to carry girls' breasts on 
their shoulders tended to rule out taller boys. We were in danger of having 
to reject half of the applicants simply for being over five feet six. And 
Smegs, in her highest heels, bestrode the room like a Colossus. The boys 
gazed up at her in awe and amazement. She was wearing her most 
supportive of bras, and her twin cannonballs were the biggest breasts the 
boys had so far seen this morning. I was wearing mine in the lowest 
position my ScatBra could achieve, and with a maternity smock, I looked 
merely maternal. In fact, I looked about ten months gone, but the boys 
didn't look too worried that I might suddenly go into contractions. They 
were far too busy staring at Smegs.

They were starting to stare at some of the girl assistants, too. These were 
Fourth Formers, again hand-picked to be just smaller in the bust than 
Smegs, but still eminently watchable. About six girls in all were striding 
around the room, jiggling furiously and swaying their hips so wildly that I 
was tempted to take them all on one side and give them a good talking-to.

Already, a few of the bolder boys were beginning to overcome their initial 
shyness and had started to sit up and take notice of the girls. I would 
definitely have to speak sharply to the girls if this went on. They were 
being far too playful and coquettish. A couple of them were even touching 
the boys' bodies in a manner which hinted at intimacy. Disgraceful.

The first batch was now lined up by the far wall, near the door leading to 
the quad. They were still stark naked, and although they didn't know it, 
they were about to go outside to face the world's media. Fortunately, their 
modesty was not to be compromised. A mind-blowingly pretty fourteen-
year-old moved along the line, assessing the boys for size, and handing out 
underwear for them to wear.

The underwear must have come from Clit and Flaps's personal store, as it 
was all pure silk. Perhaps boys' or mens' shorts would have been more 
suitable, but beggars can't be choosers, and the boys did look quite 
fetching once they had pulled the sheer silk up tight. They sneaked glances 
at each other uncertainly, clad only in ladies' flimsies in an array of 
delicate shades from shocking pink through shocking black to shocking 
yellow. These must have been the de luxe option panties, I noticed; there 
were little flowers and bunny rabbits embroidered close to the bulging 
crotch of each pair.

Not that I was looking too closely at the bulging crotch of each pair, 
nothing more than a cursory glance, anyway.


**********

I leaned against the wall outside and mopped my brow with a hankie. I 
had been okay until I had watched the staggeringly pretty girl who was 
issuing underwear take it upon herself personally to check each pair for 
fit. This was not part of her brief, I was certain. Her eyes glazed and her 
knees were visibly trembling as she took a generous handful of boy, 
twenty times. You could have hung your hat on the poor girl's nipples. I 
had been almost able to smell her arousal, or more likely it was my own.

Which was why I was leaning against the wall outside, mopping my brow 
with a hankie. I would have mopped myself elsewhere were it not for all 
those cameras looking for a subject.

"Shan! So you *are* here. We've been looking for you everywhere!"

"Villiers! Oh, my God! You took me by surprise. And Bob. And Martin. Hi!" I 
was almost melting with embarrassment as Villiers looked me up and 
down, taking in my maternity frock with what might just have been a 
touch of panic.

"We're shooting a bit of background material for a film on private single-
sex schools in England. A different sponsor, but we'll be able to use the 
choir stuff we shot in Newcastle." Villiers was blushing, I noticed, and the 
camera crew were nudging each other. For the first time I noticed they had 
a young woman with them. Actually, it might have been a boy in a sweater 
and jeans.

"This is Claire, our production assistant."

We exchanged greetings. "Hyyyy!" I was getting used to this media-speak.

Claire looked at my mound with a mixture of disgust and loathing.

"You must be wishing you could take time off and have the baby, mustn't 
you?" she asked in flat Northern tones.

"Baby? No, you got it wrong. These are my tits!" I gave them just a minimal 
wobble, no more than a couple of feet each way, and Claire subsided 
instantly. I think Martin and Bob grinned at each other, but I couldn't be 
sure. And their faces were like masks when Claire suddenly glowered up 
at them.

"Are you involved with the organisation?" Villiers asked me with a hint of 
desperation. "The television boys seem to think St Cat's has been keeping 
them hanging around long enough. Any minute now they're going to start 
screaming for the Headmistress."

"They can scream 'til they're blue in the face. They'll be out of luck. She's 
gone out for a fuck. And we're right on schedule. The first batch of 
interviewees is due to come out at any moment. Will you be shooting 
them?"

"No, we'll do the second or third bunch, once we've had a look at the form, 
seen what happens." Villiers looked around the quad and I followed the 
direction of his gaze. One or two small groups of girls were ready for 
business, their short-skirted bottoms perched on the wall surrounding the 
central fountain, which was still turned off to save the planet. No doubt, 
ITV would be along in a moment to have it turned on so it would cast 
pretty rainbow patterns in the sunlight. Tough shit, I thought.

"Most of the organisation is Corinne's work," I told him. "She's up at our 
bedroom window." I pointed and saw Corinne give a little wave.

"Is that Cee?" said Bob. "Isn't she coming down?"

"No, she can't." I made sure Claire could hear me. "Her breasts grew too big, 
so she can't move without eight girls to carry them. That's what these boys 
will be doing when we recruit them. Carrying Corinne's tits." Claire gasped 
in horror. Bob looked incredulous. "You mean you didn't know?"

"No idea. We just heard it was a bold move to integrate boys and girls from 
separate private schools. A step into the next millennium."

"It's disgusting," hissed Claire, finding her voice at last.

"Disgusting?" I said. "What is? Employing boys, or having your breasts get 
so big you can't walk? You'd better ask Corinne about that, hadn't you? 
Mine are only 120 inches. I can get around with no trouble at all. I don't 
even need a wheelbarrow, unlike some of our girls ..."

And to prove there was a God in heaven, right on cue, Shona came lurching 
round the corner of the quad with her breasts piled into her barrow. She 
had obviously loaded in a hurry this morning. She veered toward the 
middle of the quad, apologised as she ran over the feet of the girls by the 
fountain, and careened round the corner by the bra measuring facility. A 
trail of milk had trickled out of the barrow, and marked her erratic course.

"... like Shona," I said. "She's still getting used to driving hers, but of course, 
she's only twelve." I had spotted a movement up at the window. Corinne 
was waving.

"Look, sorry, must dash. I'll see you all later, won't I?" 

"Sure," said Villiers, "we'll have a chat about this and that ...?"

"And the other," I said, with a glance at Claire. "Don't forget the other."

I made things sway a little excessively as I made my way to the main 
entrance. The girls by the fountain winked at me. I made a mental note to 
have a word with them for being over-familiar.





Chapter 84:- Suzanne Makes Her Entrance


"Hey, look, Pan. Boys!" 

"How am I supposed to look, you've had your eye to the hole for the last 
ten minutes?"

Suzanne moved aside reluctantly and Pansy took her place. The cousins 
were in a store room adjacent to the ex-staff room which had been pressed 
into service as the first phase of the physical examination facility. It wasn't 
required as a staff room any more, as there was hardly any staff as such. 
The store room, backing on to the Chemistry laboratory as it did, was filled 
with drums and bottles of chemicals. The girls had gone in there in search 
of some speeder-upper and slower-downer. In the silence of the room, 
they had heard voices next door, and Suzanne had applied her eye to a 
crack in the panelling.

"I don't know why they wouldn't let us meet the boys off the buses and 
taxis, Pan. We'd do just as good a job as those floosies from the Thirds."

"They even picked the ones with no tits," Pansy complained. "This school is 
going to the dogs."

"Even the girl in that room next door is pretty flat compared to us, Pan. I 
bet she's no more than fifty inches. Come on, let's have another look."

"Most normal girls are pretty flat compared to us." Pansy stepped away 
and let Suzanne take her place.

"Why are they all just standing around? Shit, no they're not! They're taking 
their gear off. They're undressing!"

"Let's see!" Pansy tried to drag Suzanne away, but the bigger girl wasn't 
about to go anywhere just yet.

Helpful and considerate as ever, she gave a running commentary.

"The nearest one hasn't taken his pants down yet. I can see most of them. 
The girl is just grinning at them and they don't want to get undressed. Ah, 
there goes a pair of pants. Nice bum. Coo, look at that one!"

"I can't see!"

"His thing is about as long as one of the jumbo sausages from the 
restaurant, and it's got a funny end, all screwed up and wrinkly, like 
Anastasia's pussy lips. There's another one, he's more rounded, more like a 
courgette. Apart from the colour. I can see ten, no twelve willies, all in one 
go! Why doesn't she touch them or something? She's just looking!"

"Let me see, Suze," Pansy pleaded. Suzanne took a last longing look round, 
then backed away.

Pansy bent and took up the position. "Shit, Suze! They're going out. You've 
used them all up. They've gone."

"Where? Which way?"

Pansy jerked her head in the direction of the far door. "What are you 
doing?"

Suzanne was rummaging amongst the boxes and drums on the shelves. 
"Wheeee!" she cried, and started burrowing like a terrier. "Bingo! Here's 
another hole!" She stretched herself out on the shelf, lying on her tummy.

Sure enough, it was another hole in the wall, and as Suzanne confirmed, it 
gave a view of the next room, where twenty naked boys were having their 
gonads caressed by Nurse before undergoing various other ritual 
degradations under the gaze of Miss Mountains and a team of quite 
unnecessarily pretty Fourth Formers.

At last, Pansy insisted on her turn, and Suzanne reluctantly began to slide 
backwards off the shelf. Then she stopped. "I can't move, Pan. I'm stuck!"

"Come on, Suze. You've had plenty of time in there. I want to look."

"You can, when I get out. But I can't get out. The shelf on top has moved 
and I can't get my tits through the gap."

Pansy investigated, running her hands up the backs of her cousin's 
generous thighs.

"What do you think you're doing?" Suzanne sounded apprehensive.

Pansy probed further. "I'm trying to feel where you're stuck. You're bum's 
fucking enormous, Suze. I've never really felt it before. It's all soft and 
squishy. Yeurggh!"

"Well get off it then. I never asked to stroke my arse. Where are you going 
now?"

"I've got past your fat bits. The shelf is pressing down on your waist. Huh! 
Call this a waist? You really are podgy, you know that? You've got love-
handles! The boxes and stuff must have been holding the shelf up, and 
when you moved them, it came down and squashed you. Can you get 
further in?"

"What do I want to get further in for? I'll never be able to turn round in 
there with these things on my chest. I'd be completely stuck."

"You're stuck anyway. Your boobs will never come out of that little space. 
They're miles bigger than your arse. Miles!"

"I know." Suzanne lay quiet for a while, thinking. She weighed up all the 
alternatives, decided they were all as bad as each other, and started to cry.

"Oh, shut up, Suzanne! Crying isn't going to solve anything. Let me take a 
look at the top shelf and see if I can move anything off it. If we lighten it 
enough, we might be able to lift it up a bit." She stood up and investigated.

Pansy moved a few boxes around, then she began to cry as well. "It's no 
use, Suze. That top shelf is full of great heavy drums and boxes. I'll never 
be able to move all that."

"Go and fetch help then."

"There isn't anybody. They're all doing this interview thing. Would it help 
if you took your clothes off?"

"How the fuck is that going to help anything?" yelled Suzanne.

"It might. You'll be more slippery. And if you can take your bra off, your 
tits will be squashed flat."

"Even if they were squashed flat, they'd still be loads bigger than my hips. 
What are you doing NOW?"

"Taking your skirt off. There! See if you can crawl forward now."

Suzanne failed to see the point, but she crawled forward a few inches. 
"Hey, that's better. I'm not so squashed now. I can't get back, I can't turn 
round, but I can breathe a bit. Thanks, Pansy!"

It all went quiet again. "Are you asleep, Suze?"

"No. But I've got an idea. This wall panel where the hole is. I think I can 
move it. It's loose. Yeah!"

"You think you'll be able to get through into the next room?"

"Maybe. It will be tight. I'll push it through so there's a hole. If my tits will 
go through, so will the rest of me, no problem. Wish me luck. I'll give it a 
shove."

The panel made a creaking noise, and Suzanne puffed and panted with the 
effort. She began to cry again. It took ten minutes before she took a deep 
breath, and gave it one more try.

"It's going, Pan! There!"

Sound flooded into the store room, the babble of voices, Nurse's the loudest 
of all, although Miss Mountains could be heard ordering boys around, and 
the fluting tones of the Fourth Form assistants. The level of noise in the 
physical examination room drowned out the sound of the wall panel giving 
way.

"Here goes. I'm crawling through. Nobody will see me, we're behind a sort 
of table." An assortment of grunts followed.

"Suze? You still there?"

"Yeah. The hole's too small. And my tits are too big."

"Take your top off," suggested Pansy. "And your bra. They'll flatten out 
against your tummy when you crawl through the hole. Try it, Suze!"

"But I'll be naked."

"That's all right. The boys are naked, too. They won't be embarrassed. You 
want to be stuck in there all week?"

"If I get a detention for this, Pansy, you are in deep shit, okay?" But 
Suzanne was struggling out of her blouse. Seconds later came the ripping of 
velcro. A dank, girl-fragrant blouse and bra came out through the clutter 
of the shelf and Pansy bundled them under her arm.

"As soon as you get through, run round the front and I'll meet you in the 
quad with your clothes."

"Is that the best place, Pan?"

"There's nowhere else. The only other way is back through the room where 
they all take their clothes off into the main reception area."

"Oh, fuck, Pan! The quad it is. Go round there now, so I know you'll be 
waiting when I arrive."

"Okay. Good luck, and everything, all right? See you in a few minutes.


**********

I made it upstairs without laughing too much or jiggling myself clean off 
my feet, and joined Corinne at the window.

"Who was that skinny tart?" Corinne asked.

"She's with the camera people. That's Villiers down there. Remember I told 
you about him, at the choir contest. I met him on the plane?"

"Hmmm, not bad. What was he like?"

"Okay," I said guardedly.

"What's her name?"

"Claire something."

"She's sleeping with him," Corinne said with conviction.

"You think so?" Somehow, I didn't really care all that much, but it was still 
a personal affront.

"Sticks out like a dog's bollocks." How rude, Corinne, I thought. Not a nice 
expression at all.

"What did you wave for? You wanted me up here?"

"Yes. Bring me that box of Kleenex from the dressing table, there's a love."

I fetched the box. She took one out and blew her nose. 

"Thanks, Shannie."

"Was that it? That's all you wanted?"

"Shan, darling! There's no time for anything else now, it's a busy morning. 
You're a funny girl! Sometimes you can think of nothing but sex!" We gazed 
out over the busy quad. Activity was building. "It's getting close. The first 
batch of twenty will be coming out in two minutes. When the clock strikes. 
Stay here and watch it with me."

I snuggled up to her left breast and put an arm round her waist. Down 
below, the camera crews were getting ready. Press photographers had 
formed themselves into a semicircle in front of the door. In a minute or so, 
that door would open, and the first twenty boys would step out to face the 
next part of their interview. My heart was beginning to thump. I hugged 
Corinne tighter and she grinned down at me from her high chair.

"All our meticulous planning has been building up to this moment, Shan. 
It's enough to make you feel proud to be part of St Catherine's High School 
for Girls."


**********

Suzanne toyed with the idea of crying again, but it didn't look like being a 
solution to anything. Even without her clothes, her bust was far too large to 
squeeze through the hole in the panel. She had tried twice, and crawled 
back each time.

She began to imagine herself trapped in here for the rest of the week. The 
other girls in the dorm would divide up her personal belongings amongst 
themselves. There would be a Memorial Service, and her mother would be 
there in purple and black. Suzanne even conjured up an image of her 
mother's mourning frock, with a generous cleavage and a revealing 
microskirt. She would be wearing a hat with a veil ...

Was it her imagination, or did the panel seem to move a bit that time. 
Suzanne wriggled forward a bit more. The edges of the panel scraped 
across the sensitive skin of her breasts, which were squashed tight against 
her body. Sliding through the gap. It wasn't getting any easier. Although 
her shoulders were through the hole, and her chest was narrower from 
that point on, it was more than compensated for by the fact that her 
breasts were much fatter at their bottoms than at their tops. It was going 
to hurt when her nipples arrived at the edge of the hole.

It's not good, she told herself. And she started to wriggle back. Stuck. It 
was her boobs again. This time they were all squashed upwards, and she 
was never going to be able to get them and her shoulders back the way 
they had come. A mighty sob burst from her, and from somewhere she 
found the strength and determination to press onward with one 
magnificent effort.

There was a rending noise, and the edge of the adjacent panel gave way. 
Suddenly and without warning, Suzanne was on her hands and knees 
under the table, surrounded by the wreckage of a sizeable chunk of the 
store room wall. Amazingly, nobody had noticed her arrival in the room. 
From her hiding place, she could look to the right, where she could see the 
lower halves of the boys who were coming in and being taken in hand by 
Nurse. Ahead of her, Miss Mountains and a couple of Fourth Formers were 
doing something with more of the boys. Away to the left, the door leading 
to the quad, Pansy, her clothes, and safety.

But in front of that door was a line of boys. Naked hairy legs stood 
patiently like cattle. It was the only way to go. Act natural, she told 
herself. She scrambled out from under the table, got to her feet and set off 
for the exit. Don't run. Walk!

It was perhaps an over-ambitious attempt to escape without being 
observed.

In a room staffed by a tall school teacher, a loud and randy nurse, half a 
dozen crisp-bloused Fourth Formers and sixty naked teenage boys, it was 
asking a bit much for a slightly chubby and gigantically-breasted little girl 
wearing only a pair of day-glo orange knickers to pass unnoticed. Someone 
was bound to see her.

She sauntered across to the rear of the line of boys by the door, her 
breasts swinging together like great elongated pumpkins, bouncing on her 
lower stomach in a manner which indicated to anyone who chanced to look 
in her direction that this was to all intents and purposes a girl. She actually 
reached the end of the line. The last boy turned and nodded to her in a 
friendly but slightly embarrassed manner, the way naked boys do. Then 
he turned the other way again, so as to avoid having to make polite 
conversation.

Several seconds later, he turned round again.

"Fucking shit," he observed, gawping down at what were unreservedly the 
most gigantically long and fat breasts he had ever seen in his fifteen years. 
"You're a girl!"

At that moment, the girl issuing panties to the boys waiting to leave the 
room had passed down the line for the last time, touching and caressing, 
checking the boys' readiness to face the world at large in the quadrangle. 
Hearing the cry from the back of the line, she spun round and saw a giant 
pair of tits where no tits had a right to be. Reasonably enough, she 
screamed.

Suzanne sensed that she might shortly be in trouble if she stayed here. 
Nipping smartly out of line; avoiding the grasping hands of twenty boys 
suddenly confronted with two of the biggest breasts - in fact, the ONLY 
breasts - they had ever seen in their short lives; she plunged for the door. 
As she seized the handle and flung it open, the last words she heard were 
from Miss Mountains:

"Suzanne, NO!"

Suzanne, yes!

It was like a scene from a nightmare. There she stood, naked as a jaybird 
apart from her orange knickers, with what seemed like fifty cameras 
aimed at her.





Part XXIX





Chapter 85:- Unnatural Selection


"Thirty seconds," said Corinne, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck 
tingle and stand on end. It must have been the tension, the expectancy, the 
feeling of being part of a finely-drilled team about to glide into action on 
well-lubricated wheels. Or it might have been Corinne's fingers tracing 
negligent patterns on the slope of my upper breast.

When I mention my upper breast, this is not to denote the higher of two 
pairs of breasts, rather it describes the upper part of one of the single pair 
of breasts I have. For the purposes of this statement, 'upper' refers to that 
part of the breast which is normally located above my waist. 'Waist' is in 
itself perhaps a misnomer, as it seems to be getting bigger by the week, 
along with my hips.

All these thoughts flickered through my mind in the millisecond following 
Corinne's warning. In thirty seconds from now, the first batch of twenty 
boys, interviewees for the posts of breast carriers, would emerge from the 
room in which they were being physically examined.

The physical examination took the form of being felt up by Nurse, prodded 
by Smegs and ogled at by a team of Fourth Formers, all whilst naked as 
Nature mistakenly intended. To make the boys more presentable to the 
media of the world, before they were allowed out of the room, they were 
issued with a pair of shorts. Actually, as St Cat's was a school for girls, 
men's underclothes of any description were hard to come by, so the boys 
were given girls' knickers in more or less appropriate sizes from the 
school's, or rather from Clit's and Flaps's huge stocks.

"Fifteen seconds!"

A hand-picked Fourth Form girl had the task of checking the fit of the 
shorts. She carried out the job single-handed.

"Ten!"

The door handle twitched.

"Five, four, three, two, one ..."

Suzanne, magnificently topless, emerged at a brisk trot from the room and 
literally squealed to a halt in front of a battery of press photographers and 
television cameras. A fusillade of flashes blossomed around her. She 
peered about her in panic, then with her toes and knees together, she 
covered her breasts with her hands.

"Suzanne. Wrongggg!" I muttered to her from our position up here at the 
bedroom window. She wouldn't hear me, but perhaps telepathy would 
work on this occasion. She looked down at her breasts and her hands, and 
realised the utter futility of trying to hide them. She couldn't even hide her 
areolae.

So she dropped her hands and ponderously spun round, trying to get back 
into the physical examination room, but it was one of those locks that only 
works from the inside. For some reason, the door was fitted with a slot for 
letters. Presumably the builders had got the door at a special cheap rate 
from a demolished building. There was no mailbox on the inside, so the slot 
led straight through to the inside of the room. Suzanne raised the flap, bent 
slightly forward and yelled in through the letter-box.

A fresh barrage of flashes illuminated her from behind. Most of her 
breasts were still visible, even from this angle: in fact, in her present 
position, they had swung forward, away from her body like two great 
bells. One way and another, the view had opened up considerably. I had to 
hand it to Suzanne, her day-glo orange panties would look great on 
television. Leaning forward from the waist, she presented an awesome 
vista of plump, creamy nubility. I seized Corinne's binoculars and focused 
on the tautly-filled crotch of Suzanne's panties. 

"She's showing, Cee," I complained. "How many times do I need to remind 
these girls about shaving their inner thighs?"

It took several seconds before Suzanne realised her mistake, then she 
looked back over her shoulder at the gentlemen of the press, and began to 
cry.

It was probably the best thing she could have done. The gentlemen of the 
press included at least one lady. Actually, she was a woman, but it was the 
next best thing. A kindly, motherly figure, she thrust forward, her Nikons 
dangling unheeded round her neck, and took Suzanne in her arms. A 
chorus of catcalls immediately went up; the woman, startled, turned, and 
Suzanne wriggled free like an overdeveloped eel and shot away round the 
corner of the building.

"Suzanne. Wrongggg!" I said again.

Five seconds later, she reappeared, having run into a cul-de-sac full of 
rubbish bins, and galloped across the front of the building, pursued by 
flashes and panning cameras. Although Suzanne was scarcely poetry in 
motion, I was surprised at the speed she had built up in such a short space. 
Her legs were obviously strong and muscular from carrying those vast tits 
around all the time.

To get out of the quadrangle, she had to force her way through a small 
crowd of press personnel and general hangers-on. Here, at least, her 
breasts came to her assistance. Without noticeably slackening pace, she 
charged at the weakest portion of the line and barged straight through. 
Each swinging, rebounding breast took out two people, sending them flying 
to the ground as if sandbagged. With a leap over the last few fleeing 
bodies, Suzanne was free.

She passed from our view.

"Ah, about time, too," complained Corinne, "fifteen seconds late!"

The door had opened, and twenty boys stood blinking in the sunlight, 
dressed only in girls' knickers of assorted colours.


**********

"Where the fuck were you?" Suzanne demanded furiously.

"Sorry! They wouldn't let me through. Quick, put your clothes on." Pansy 
handed her the bundle. "What were you running for?"

"I nearly shook my tits off, trying to run. I fell through the hole in the wall 
and I was in this room with about fifty naked boys!"

"Ooooh! What were they like, Suze? Any nice ones?"

"I dunno. I was too busy trying to get out. Miss Mountains was in there. So 
I joined the queue to get out, and this girl was giving them knickers to 
wear."

"Girls' knickers?"

"Course. St Cat's is a girls' school."

"They wouldn't fit," said Pansy, the practical one.

"They seemed to fit okay, from what I could see. And the girl was checking 
to see how they fitted. That was why I got out. If she'd come and put her 
hand round my crotch she might have been able to tell the difference."

"That's true. Even if she didn't notice your boobs when she moved them 
out of the way of your crotch. So you came out?"

"Straight into a whole load of cameras. All these flashes went off. I could 
hardly see. So I tried to get back in, but they wouldn't listen when I bent 
over and shouted through the letter box, and the flashes were still going 
off. Why did they want to take pictures of me anyway. Especially from 
behind."

"Maybe they were perverts. Were they all men?"

"No, there was a woman, she was a pervert. She came and tried to snog me, 
right in front of all those people. That was when I managed to get away."

"Oh, Suze! Why do perverts always seem to follow us around?"

"Dunno. We're just ordinary girls, same as anyone else."

"You've wet your knickers a bit, Suzanne," Pansy scolded.

"So would you, if you'd been through what I've just been through. Let's get 
out of here."

"What about the boys? I want to see some boys. I want to snog one. It feels 
nice. They were saying there were some from Lord Ted's here. I wonder if 
there's any we know. Hey, Suze, we could get some and take them off into 
the woods. We could do things."

"I've seen enough boys to last me a month. Do what things?"

"Just things. We could take our clothes off, and they could feel our boobs 
and stuff. We could fuck, maybe..." Pansy tried to sound casual about it.

"There's something wrong with you, Pansy! Ever since Anastasia's tea-
party, you've been a different girl."

"Well, I'm pregnant now. I think. Once I know for sure, we can decide 
whether I should have a girl or a boy! And when I'm going to have it. It 
might be nice to have it during the summer holidays."

"Pan. I was reading a book the other night. There's something you ought to 
know."


**********

We watched the first group of twenty boys as they were formed up into 
two columns and marched off by Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen to their first 
practical test. Despite all the negative stuff you hear about modern youth, 
they had meekly lined up and allowed themselves to be shouted at by an 
appalling Welsh woman. They marched off with arms swinging, all in step 
apart from one at the back whose arms seemed to work the wrong way 
round. He kept changing step with little skips and hops.

"We'll have to get rid of that one for a start. Keeping step with the rest of 
his team is essential for a breast carrier. Imagine the pain of having him 
hopping around like that with your boob over his shoulder." Corinne 
winced as she said it.

"They've picked him out. Look, Sheenagh just took his number. He'll be our 
first reject."

A team of four girls walked alongside the marching boys, sizing them up 
and making notes against their names on a clipboard. The four longest-
legged girls in the Fifth Form had been chosen for this task, and they kept 
pace easily with their smooth, loping stride. They wore short white socks 
and the most abbreviated shorts I had ever seen. The taut curves of the 
undersides of their buttocks were peeping out of the sides of the bright 
yellow stretch material. Their T-shirts, in matching yellow, reached down 
almost as far as their waists, but not quite, and the bouncing of their full, 
unfettered breasts was almost hynpotic. Their waist length blonde hair 
was tied in a single ponytail which hung down the back, but the rhythm of 
their motion allowed it to bounce freely in every direction.

"Look at Sheenagh's nipples!" I said. "Did you ever see any like those?"

"They are pretty spiky," Corinne agreed. "Like ferrets' noses. But they're all 
pretty girls."

They were. In fact, they were so astoundingly beautiful that I was obliged 
to finger myself as I watched them. Some of the boys were obviously 
affected, too. One or two were walking with difficulty, and they had only 
gone twenty yards from the door."

"Erections, look," Corinne pointed out. "Two, three, and a semi-hard. Christ, 
just as well he is only semi. He's like a stallion. Pity. They'll have to go."

"Do they really, Cee? Can't we keep them for something else?"

"Moggie says we're only allowed twenty-four. You can't have any extras 
just because they happen to look good in girls' knickers. The girls have 
spotted them. They're doing a good job, those four."

The twenty boys came to a halt and the four tall girls swiftly weeded them 
out, together with the one who couldn't march. They herded them in a 
confused group to a roped-off area in the centre of the quad. A huge sign 
had been erected over this enclosure, saying 'Special Assessment'.

Corinne pointed to the sign, "We couldn't call it 'Rejects', could we? The 
poor boys would be traumatised for the rest of their lives."

"Political Correctness reaches St Cat's at last," I sighed. "What will happen 
to them?"

"We'll eventually end up with hundreds in there, so they're going be taken 
away in batches and allowed to put their clothes back on. So they don't feel 
too let down, we've arranged for them to be looked after by a special team 
of girls, all volunteers."

"Looked after?"

"Yes. Exactly what it sounds like!" Corinne grinned. "They'll be allowed to 
take them to the dorms, the woods, classrooms, anywhere they can find a 
space six feet long by three feet wide. What happens then is up to the girls 
themselves."

"Not the boys?"

"The girls themselves, Shan!"

"Golly, Cee! I wish I'd known. I'd have volunteered."

"I thought you might. That's why I asked Anastasia to sort you out a few 
for later."

"Oh, Cee! You think of everything!"

"I do try, Shannie!"


**********

Suzanne had failed to get her bra on after several attempts. "It's no use, 
Pan," she cried in exasperation, "they got so shook out and floppy with all 
that running, they won't fit the cups any more. Let's get back to the dorm." 
With her cousin's help, she piled everything out of sight into her blouse 
and slung the bra round her neck. They would have to use the back 
entrance to the main block, as the quad was in use.

Pnasy looked back with longing in the direction of the teeming quadrangle. 
"I wonder why they wouldn't let us volunteer for the Special Assessment 
group, Suze."

"No Juniors, Pan. Middles and Seniors only."

"We're just as good as them, Suze. We've got just as big tits as any of them, 
and we can fuck, too. At least, I can. I was forgetting you don't believe in 
it."

Suzanne snarled at her. "Fuck off! I can do it just as well as you. I just 
didn't fancy any of those stuck-up knob-ends from Lord Ted's, that's all."

Pansy clutched at her cousin's arm and pointed ahead. "Well, that's good. 
'Cos look! Here's a couple of strays!"

Suzanne looked where Pansy was pointing. Two boys had wandered out of 
the rear entrance and were gazing about them looking lost.

"C'mon, cousin," grinned Pansy, nudging her. "Just do as I do."

Suzanne's jaw dropped open as Pansy led the way into the attack. She was 
right, her cousin was a different girl these days.

"Hi, boys!" Pansy stopped next to the lost couple. They were still dressed, 
wearing the uniform of Lord Edward's school. "You look lost."

"Oh, hello." The taller of the two was the spokesman. "We were looking for 
the boys' toilets."

"There aren't any," said Pansy. "St Cat's is a girls' school."

"But the teacher sent us out here. She said there were toilets out here."

"Which teacher?"

"A shortish one with brown hair and glasses. She had ... well, she was very 
big up here." The boy blushed and lowered his hands to his sides.

"Not as big as you two, though," said the second boy, speaking for the first 
time. "In fact, I've never seen girls with thingies as big as yours. You're 
frightfully big. Are you teachers, too?"

Pansy spluttered. "Silly! 'Course we're not teachers. Nor was the other girl. 
We can show you the way to the toilet, though. Would you like that?"

"Yes, please," said the first boy. "I'm bursting."

"Don't burst, it will make a mess. I'm Pansy, and this is my cousin, 
Suzanne."

"I'm Oliver, and this is Simon."

"C'mon, then. We'll show you the way." Pansy held out her hand and Oliver, 
a little surprised, took it. Following suit, Simon offered a hand to Suzanne.

"You're huge, Suzanne," he said. "And that bra is the biggest I've ever seen. 
Is it a D cup?"

Suzanne blushed prettily. "Not exactly, we don't use ordinary cup sizes 
here."

"You don't? Golly! How old are you?"

"Fifteen," Suzanne lied fluently.

"Oh, that's nice. Same as us!"

"Oooh, good! We can have a chat about the things we learn at school."

The girls led the two boys up the stairs and into the girls' toilets. They 
didn't bother waiting outside. They went in and hovered just inside the 
cubicles while the boys blushed and hesitated. Finally, realising the cousins 
weren't about to go away, they unzipped themselves and did what they 
came for. Or tried to.

Sometimes it's difficult when somebody is watching. Especially when that 
somebody is a couple of the biggest-breasted girls you have ever seen in 
your fifteen years. And especially when both of those girls are unfastening 
the buttons on their blouses ...





Chapter 86:- In Good Hands


"I wonder where Suzanne got to," I said. "She ran round that corner. I bet 
she's hiding in case she bumps into any boys."

Corinne scanned the busy quad. She was looking through her binoculars, 
and restlessly turning her attention from one area of activity to another. A 
second batch of twenty boys had come outside, and were now being drilled 
into two straight lines by Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen. 

"She must be a frustrated drill sergeant." Corinne aimed her binoculars at 
the corner where Suzanne had last been seen. "No sign of young Suze, she 
must be scared rigid, wherever she is."

"I'd better have a look for her. Maybe I'll be able to find Pansy." I 
reluctantly got up and wished Corinne's breast a fond farewell. "I'll see you 
later," I told it.

As I closed the door, I heard Corinne giggling at something she'd seen 
down below.

Suzanne hadn't reappeared in the physical examination room. Smegs 
confirmed that she had seen the girl and yelled at her not to go outside, 
but Suzanne had ignored her.

"She came out from under that table," she said. "She must have hidden 
there to watch the naked boys, the little slut."

"I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation, Smegs, she wouldn't 
do that. Not on her own, anyway. Have you seen anything of Pansy?"

"If she had any sense, she'd have bolted as soon as Suzanne came out into 
the open. I never saw her, though. They're as bad as each other, those 
two."

"I'll go and look for them," I said. "In a minute."

"Sure," Smegs grinned wolfishly. "Have a look round before you dash off. 
One or two interesting specimens amongst them."

I was shocked at Smegs, lusting after teenage boys. Naked teenage boys. I 
walked up and down each line of twenty, viewing them from the back, 
then from the front. I felt I would recognise any one of these boys again if 
I saw him.

"Hello, Miss Gruntworthy!"

"What?" I looked up into the boy's grinning face. "Augustine, hello!"

"I thought you'd never recognise me, Miss, you walked straight past me 
four times."

"I must have been preoccupied. Sorry. Any of the others here?"

"Clark's here. He was hoping to see Anastasia. Have you seen her, Miss? Or 
Pansy, or Toots?"

"Toots doesn't start at St Cat's until September, so you won't see her." 
Augustine looked crestfallen. "I was looking for Pansy, myself. Suzanne 
had an unfortunate experience a while ago. She exposed herself to the 
world's press."

"Suzanne? She wouldn't do that, Miss. She's far too nice to do that. You 
know, she sat through that whole tea-party without being tempted to join 
in the kissing and cuddling. Well, just a little snog, but nothing serious. 
She's got huge boobs, though. It's a pity she's so frigid."

The tone of the conversation was embarrassing me, especially as the other 
boys waiting in front of and behind Augustine were taking an active 
interest in Augustine's words, in conversation with a *teacher*, of all 
things! The fact that Augustine had achieved an impressive, throbbing 
erection didn't help my embarrassment either.

"I'll see you later, Og," I said, edging away from it, and from him. "If I see 
the girls, I'll tell them you're here. Bye!"

I shot away, and heard a loud guffaw from the boys as I fled. Men, I 
thought, they're all the same: so immature, even at fifteen.


**********

"So, what's your favourite subject, Suzanne?" Simon asked. All four of them 
were sitting on a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor of the First Form 
dorm. They had the room to themselves, all the other girls were watching 
the fun in the quad.

Suzanne ran her hand softly up Simon's inner thigh, making his hair stand 
on end. The two girls had decided not to remove their blouses in the toilets 
in case a member of staff came along and saw them, but since settling on 
the floor, they had begun exposing themselves a button at a time. Acres of 
creamy flesh were on display.

Pansy felt at a disadvantage, as she was still wearing her bra, so she was 
becoming more bold by the minute, and the bolder she got, the more she 
turned herself on. She was sitting astride Oliver, with her legs spread wide, 
gazing deep into his eyes. Oliver must have thought it was his birthday. His 
sixteenth birthday. She began a slow grinding motion, sliding her taut 
bottom forwards and backwards.

Simon watched her, wide-eyed. Suzanne caught a glimpse of the movement 
out of the corner of her eye, and redoubled her fondling. She was lying 
beside the boy, their thighs, hips and bodies pressed against each other.

"What was the question again?" She grinned up at him cheekily.

"You're favourite subject? What do like doing most? In class, I mean."

"Oooh, Sexual Chemistry. That's best of all."

"What Chemistry?" Simon was startled and even Oliver tore his eyes away 
from Pansy's looming breasts to stare at Suzanne.

"Sexual! You know?" She slipped her little hand between two of the 
buttons on Simon's shirt. It slid inside and found a tiny, sharp nipple. He 
almost hit the ceiling. "Sexual Chemistry! When we make boob juice and 
cream? And Fatlite, and Lube and Steam?" Suzanne realised that she 
wasn't making much sense. "You mean you don't do it?"

"Boob juice? What's that? And all that other stuff. Steam?"

"Makes you come! So does Lube. And Fatlite, I invented that. Me and Pan. 
It makes your boobs lighter!"

"In fact, it doesn't," Pansy felt she had better get her six-pennyworth in. "It 
keeps them the same weight and they get twice as big."

"Gosh!" Oliver stared at the two of them. "Is that why you're both so huge?"

"No way!" said Pansy indignantly. "We're a hundred per cent natural. But 
you should see our Miss Meadowlark. She's our Support and Mobility 
Mistress. Her boobs are as big as ... as big as ..." Pansy searched around the 
dorm for a suitable object for comparison.

"You know a bean-bag chair?" Suzanne said, and both boys nodded, 
frowning, trying to imagine breasts as big as bean-bags.

"Each of her tits is about twice as big as three of those. That's why St Cat's 
is looking for teams of boys. They're to carry Miss Meadowlark's boobs for 
her!"

The boys were struck dumb, trying to visualise a couple of double-sized 
triple-bean-bag chairs and failing totally. Suzanne decided to give Simon 
something to think about. With a swift tug, she opened the front of her 
blouse completely and both her breasts tumbled out on to the pile of 
bedding.

"Ouch!" she said. "That hurt."

"Jesus!"

"Christ!"

It was a good moment for blasphemy.

Pansy wasn't going to be upstaged by a pair of giant breasts, so she gave 
an extra thrust of her hips, capturing Oliver's attention instantly. She felt 
his hardness, and it brought back memories of tea-parties in Anastasia's 
room. She glanced in Suzanne's direction. The other couple were fully 
occupied. With dextrous fingers, Pansy found the tag of Oliver's zipper and 
slid it down. Releasing him into the open air was the work of mere seconds, 
and moments later, she bobbed her head and enveloped him in her wet 
mouth.

Simon wanted to know more about FatLite. "You mean they let you use this 
stuff on real people? Like teachers?"

"Of course. That's what it's for. We wrote to that cooking fat company that 
make it, and they wrote back and sent a sample. The rest of the 
ingredients are ordinary chemicals, and a bit of girl-milk."

"GIRL-MILK!"

"Shona-milk, actually. She's in our class. That's her bed over there. The 
extra strong one, 'cos she's huge. She's got tits like three of these pillows."

"And she gives milk?"

"Yeah. Lots of the girls do. Not just the ones who are having babies. It was 
Pansy's idea putting Shona-milk in the FatLite, and it made it work really 
well, didn't it, Pan?"

Suzanne and Simon turned to see why Pansy wasn't answering. They found 
out. Both of them blushed deeply and looked back at each other. They 
moved further apart, and Suzanne started to tuck herself back into her 
blouse.

"Her Mum taught her never to talk with her mouth full. Erm, shall we take 
a little walk, Si?" Suzanne was getting to her feet. "I'll show you the First 
Form Sexual Chemistry Group Lab. We might even be able to find 
something to take back to school with you." She pulled Simon to his feet, as 
he tried to adjust his clothing. "Oooh! Is that an erection? Did I do that to 
you?"

"Ummm, yes!"

"Come on, then. Let's see if there's some of the original boob juice about. 
You'd be surprised what it does to boys!"


**********

I headed for the First Form dormitory. That was the likeliest place to find 
Suzanne, assuming she had managed to find her way there without being 
apprehended. One or two of the dormitories were already in use, so 
presumably a number of girls had already raided the Special Assessment 
compound. Boyish grunts and girlish cries echoed up and down the 
corridor. Outside one of the dorms, the Fifth Form, I think it was, a small 
pile of used boys lay naked and groaning in the corridor.

In my capacity of teacher, I tried to ignore the sounds of sex, while hoping 
that Anastasia was going to find me a couple of tasty specimens for later in 
the evening. The thought of that lent wings to my feet and I approached 
the First Form dorm at a brisk canter.

One expects a certain amount of sexual activity in the Senior dorms, and 
possibly quite a bit in the Middles. But the Juniors are expected to find 
other pursuits. I suppose I should have been surpised to hear cries of 
ecstasy coming from the First Form dormitory. Or should I? 

At least I had found Suzanne, I thought, as I strode into the room. And 
stopped dead in my tracks. There was only one couple in here, and they 
were definitely a couple. They were coupling in fine style. Pansy was 
positively thrashing up and down like a rodeo rider on top of an 
anonymous boy. I wondered what it was that brought the rodeo image to 
my mind. Then I realised what it was: she was holding on with her left 
hand to the boy's shirt, her bottom was bounding fully six inches up and 
down, so far that clear daylight showed beneath her little bottom at every 
up-stroke. Potentially disastrous, but I had to award her excellent style 
marks. And the final touch; like a rough rider, she had her right arm raised 
above her head. If she'd had a Stetson, she would have been waving it in 
the air.

With a huge grunt, Pansy reached an undeniable climax. She deserved it 
after all that effort. The boy wasn't far off either, so I took a seat on a 
convenient bed and waited a few minutes for him to finish. I started to get 
up to go over and speak to them, but Pansy had already started again, so I 
sat down. The poor girl showed her inexperience, shouting and swearing 
furiously at her partner. It made no difference. I could have told her it 
wouldn't.

"Oh, fuck you!" Pansy screamed and sat back, wiping her face on her 
discarded blouse. "Oh, hi, Miss!" She waved at me with her fingers and 
climbed off. "Hey, Ollie! Here's Miss Gruntworthy. Our favourite teacher."

"Aaaargh!" Oliver sat up, trying to cover himself. "Sorry, Miss!" he tried to 
get to his feet. I had a feeling he would have stood to attention and 
saluted. In his present state of undress, that would have been most 
undignified.

"Hi, Oliver," I called airily. "Don't get up!"

"No fucking chance of that, Miss," Pansy growled under her breath.

"He did all right, Pansy," I told her. "You mustn't expect too much of them."

"But Miss! Now I'm pregnant, I've got to get it all I can. A couple more 
months and I'll be so huge I can't do it any more."

Oliver's face registered horror. "I didn't make her pregnant, Miss! I was 
thinking of cricket, Miss. Cricket always works, our sports master says. If 
you think of cricket while you're ... doing  ..."

"Making love, Oliver," I offered."

"Making love," he blushed, "if you think of cricket, then you can't give a 
girl a baby, Miss!"

"I shall remember that," I said. "It might be useful one day. Now, Pansy, if 
you'll let Oliver get dressed, he probably has to go and be interviewed. 
Thank him nicely for the fuck, Pansy!"

"Thank you for the nice fucks, Oliver," said Pansy sweetly. "Both of them. 
And the nice blow-job, too!"

"Thank *you*, Pansy. You really are an excellent shag for fifteen."

Pansy blushed prettily.

"Fifteen, Pansy?" I said, and she shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "Have 
you seen Suzanne this morning? After she appeared nude on nationwide 
television?"

"No, Miss!"

I was sure she was lying. One gets to recognise the signs.


**********

"Take your trousers down!" Suzanne held the tub of cream. Simon looked 
uncertain.

"Are you sure?" Simon bit his lip. "Have you tested it on willies?"

"It worked on boobs, and some of the girls said it worked on Miss 
Mountains's labia. And her clit. So it ought to work on a willie, it's made of 
all the same stuff. Come on, before someone comes. Get your shorts down."

There was no alternative. Simon slid his shorts down to his knees, then 
stood up, not very straight. His testicles seemed to be crawling up inside 
his body, seeking refuge from this absurdly developed and highly 
dangerous little girl. She took a handful of cream, aimed carefully and 
slapped it on to the appropriate area. It made a soft Splats! Sound, and 
Simon cringed, doubling over from the waist.

"Let me rub it in. It's got to be rubbed in evenly." Suzanne demonstrated 
with enthusiasm. "Wait a minute," she said, "There's something missing. 
Where are those ball things?"

"They were there this morning," Simon gasped in panic.

"It's all right, I've found one. And the other. They're not as big as I thought 
they'd be. They must have shrunk. Never mind, this will make them swell 
up again. There! You can put them away now."

"Thank you, Suzanne. You are very kind."

"You have to take this little pot of cream with you, and rub it in for a 
couple of nights before you go to sleep."

"I wish you could rub it in for me, Suzanne!"

"No, it's best if you do it yourself," said Suzanne firmly.

Now that Suzanne seemed not to be too keen on physical intimacy, Simon 
began to feel a little more bold.

"It felt great when you rubbed it, Suzanne, can we do it now?"

"Do what?"

"Have love. Make sex."

"You mean FUCK?"

"Erm, yes."

"Sod off. You're not putting that thing in me. It's got FatLite all over it. I 
don't want to end up like Miss Mountains!"

To make sure, she hauled Simon's shorts up tight, and heaved on his 
trousers. She paused only when the zipper was fastened and the belt 
yanked tight.

"Come on. Back to the dorm. They'll have finished now, and I can put my 
bra back on. If I walk around much longer without a bra, they'll be down 
to my knees by tea time."

"I've got to be interviewed," Simon gasped, remembering suddenly why he 
was at St Cat's in the first place. "What's the time? I get done at twelve 
nineteen."

"Ten past. You'll make it. I'll show you the short cut." She stopped in front 
of him, stood on tiptoe and closed her eyes. "Come on, then. Give me a 
kiss!"

"I can't reach. Your boobs are so huge, they're in the way!"

"They do bend, Simon. They're not made of iron. Just squash them. There, 
oooh, like that!"

They did bend. They weren't made of iron. They squashed very nicely.





Chapter 87:- Disgraceful Goings-on


Having ensured that Pansy and her lover were not getting up to anything 
too illegal, I made my way back downstairs. The sight of Pansy's exuberant 
style in the saddle had left me feeling more than a little aroused and moist. 
I know, I had been promised a few boys of my own for later on, and young 
Anastasia was not the sort of girl to let me down. I just felt the need to 
pick out a few boys for myself, in case the worst came to the worst.

The physical examination room was still as busy as ever. Some of the cast 
had changed. A steady flow of boys in groups of twenty every ten minutes 
was bound be fatiguing for the staff involved. The Fourth Form girls had 
been replaced. Perhaps the word ought to be 'relieved'. Another crew was 
in attendance, bringing a new enthusiasm to their work. Smegs spoke 
highly of them.

"The other girls were getting a bit jaded. Working with naked boys wears 
you out after a while. Look at Nurse!"

I looked. The poor woman was still clutching at the gonads of each batch of 
new arrivals, but I could tell her heart wasn't in it. She cupped successive 
genitalia with an expression of ennui, and although she still washed her 
hands thoroughly between feeling each boy, she no longer approached 
each new victim with the same freshness.

"I could relieve her for a while. One of the girls could make her a cup of 
tea." I hoped I didn't sound too eager.

"I'm sure she'd appreciate that. You're most kind. But Shan, you don't need 
to be undressed yourself."

Glumly, I rearranged my clothing and put my breasts away. Nurse thanked 
me and stumbled out of the room, while I metaphorically rolled up my 
sleeves and girded my loins. A new batch of boys filed in and stood 
patiently like cattle. Beside me, an almost horrifyingly pretty Fourth 
Former read out the name of the first boy from her clip-board. Smiling 
brightly, I approached him and lowered my hand, fingers together and 
slightly cupped.

The boy screamed and leaped about a foot in the air. The rest of the boys 
in the queue staggered back. One of them clutched at the almost 
horrifyingly pretty Fourth Former, whimpering. She dropped her clip-
board and hugged him sympathetically. Elsewhere in the room, other boys 
who had already passed the first stage of being fondled, stared back at us 
scornfully. Smegs looked apprehensive. Her team of enthusiastic Fourth 
Form girls giggled captivatingly and wobbled their firm young breasts in 
the faces of the more superficially attractive interviewees.

The boy descended, and his scrotum dropped neatly into my hand. This 
time, he only jumped six inches. I can be fairly precise about this, because 
I had anticipated his leap and slid my hand into a new position, rotating 
the wrist through ninety degrees and grasping firmly. He still jumped, but 
he wasn't going far without his cock, so he came down to earth quickly.

"Sorry," I said, as soon as his eyes found their way back into their sockets. 
"I should have warmed my hands first."

"It's all right now, Miss," the boy croaked. "But would you mind letting go?"

I looked down, realising to my horror that I was still clutching at the boy's 
boyhood. The Devil finds work for idle hands, it is true. Without conscious 
effort on my part, my hand had coaxed him into at least partial arousal, 
and was caressing his flesh with a smooth practised action. Even Jeremy 
could hardly have complained, and he was notoriously picky about such 
things as rings and fingernails.

"Sorry," I said again, and let go with some reluctance. The boy's member 
resumed its condition of flaccidity and my assistant, the almost 
horrifyingly pretty Fourth Former, gave a little gasp of regret. "He's okay," 
I told her, and she placed a tick in a box on her form."

"How many?" she said.

"How many what?"

"Nurse was giving them a score from zero to ten." The girls studied her 
notes. "Nobody scored more than five so far."

"Give him a six," I said with a surge of generosity, and washed my hands 
free of social diseases.

I'm not cut out to be a caring professional, I suppose. Although I got 
through the batch of twenty boys without losing any and without any of 
them actually ejaculating, I was soon bored. So bored, in fact, that I took 
the clip-board from the almost horrifyingly pretty Fourth Former and let 
her grope the last four boys in the line while I took Boy Number Sixteen to 
one side and inhaled his throbbing cock. 

After that, it was almost a relief when Nurse came back.

"Feeling better, Shan?" Smegs asked me solicitously when I returned to her 
side.

"Thank you, yes."

"You made rather a lot of noise when you sucked that last one off. It 
seemed to be worrying some of the other applicants. If you need to do it 
again, perhaps ... just a little more quietly?"

"Sorry, Smegs." I felt dejected. I couldn't even do a simple job like feeling 
boys' scrotums. Should that be scrota? Scroti? Nurse was so much more 
efficient. So were the Fourth Form girls. Now I was able to study them in 
action, I realised that they weren't all changing shifts at the same time. 
Every few minutes, one of them would drag a selected boy out of line and 
run off with him into a corner, or behind a filing cabinet. Her place would 
be seamlessly taken by another girl, her dress rearranged, her minimal 
make-up repaired, her libido undiminished.

By the time the boys reached the door and were kitted out with their 
knickers, probably ten per cent of them had received some kind of sexual 
favours along the way. They were easily spotted by their flushed faces and 
heavy breathing.

The only girl who remained at her post throughout was the girl who issued 
the knickers and checked them for excellence of fit. I offered to relieve her 
for a while, but she firmly refused. Strange girl. The Protestant work ethic, 
I assumed.

As she flung the door wide and released her latest batch of boys into the 
quad, I followed them outside. Now, after three hours, the television crews 
had packed up and gone home with enough material recorded for a full-
length feature. The press cameramen had diminished in numbers. The only 
ones now remaining were presumably from the more specialist journals. A 
few of them gathered round me.

"Shan, remember us from way back, when the school burned down? Get 
your tits out and give the lads a flash."

I can never resist smooth, cultured seduction. I brought my breasts out 
into the spring sunshine and hoisted the ScatBra to its maximum uplift. 
Groans of impending orgasm mingled with flashes of light. Only after a 
minute or so did I realise that the groans of impending orgasm were all 
mine and I was impending no longer. I came massively in front of the 
cameras, and deposited a steaming pool of Shan-juice.

"God, you certainly needed that, Shan!" sympathised the press. "Thanks, 
love. Great stuff as always. This Sunday's Smut, okay? Page seventeen!"

I thanked them and wandered off into the crowds. It was like a medieval 
fayre, thronged with mostly naked boys marching here and there and 
performing strange tasks before crisply-dressed girls of staggering beauty.

A glance up at the window showed me Corinne still there, her binoculars 
hanging round her neck. Anastasia was squeezed at the window next to 
her, and she gave me a big grin and put up two thumbs, then quickly 
counted up to seven on her fingers.

Did that mean she had found seven boys, all for me? Or one boy at seven o' 
clock?

My wanderings brought me to the Special Assessment paddock. There 
must have been a hundred boys milling around in there behind the ropes. 
The whole paddock was surrounded by a wall of St Cat's girls, jostling for a 
sight of something worth taking to bed. As I watched, a girl ducked under 
the rope, one of the more spectacularly endowed Second Formers. Bouncing 
massively, she darted into the crowd of boys. Being less than five feet tall, 
she disappeared completely, and the only sign that she was there at all 
was the disturbance beneath the surface as the boys made way for her and 
her breasts to pass among them.

Then she found what she was seeking, and plunged out into the open, 
leading a boy ... no ... *two* boys, by their wrists. Without stopping, she 
ducked beneath the ropes, which the other girls obligingly held aloft, then 
led her prizes away to the Second Form dormitory. There was a brisk 
interchange of pleasantries between the girl and some of her older 
schoolmates. I was tempted to follow her, perhaps to enjoy her spare boy - 
the one she wasn't using at any given time - but it occurred to me that she 
had more than enough breast to keep any two boys occupied. I silently 
wished her the best of luck.

There were plenty of spare boys for me anyway. The Rejects would 
eventually number 976, so I would find something. There was time enough 
for that later. For now, I would take a look at the selection process.


**********

"I have to go, Suzanne, I'm half an hour late for my interview."

Suzanne tightened her grip round Simon's neck and fastened her lips 
against his again. He stopped trying to escape. 

"That's better, darling! Relax. When you get there, tell them you had to go 
to the toilet and got stuck."

"Stuck in the toilet?"

"Tell them you couldn't do it. They will understand. They're school 
teachers. Schoolgirls get consternation the whole time. Some of them, 
anyway. Time for another kiss." Suzanne began rubbing her vast breasts 
up and down against his groin. Simon abandoned himself to his fate.

"Oh, hi, Suze!"

"Uh. Anastasia, fancy you coming into the Sexual Chemistry lab!"

Simon tried to free his face from Suzanne's cleavage, but she kept her hand 
pressed firmly against the back of his head.

"Who's that, Suze? Aren't you going to introduce us?"

"Just a boy I met. Nobody you know."

Anastasia inspected Simon's blazer, discarded in a crumpled heap on the 
floor. "He's from Lord Ted's! Perhaps he knows Clark ..."

"No he doesn't," Suzanne insisted desperately. "He doesn't know anyone. 
He's a new boy."

Simon wriggled frantically. His ears were bright red. Nothing else of his 
face was visible.

"Let him out, Suze! You'll suffocate the boy in there."

"No. He's all right. He went in there on his own."

"What are you doing with him in the lab anyway?" Anastasia picked up 
several of the containers on the bench. She dipped a finger into an opened 
tub and inspected the cream. She sniffed it. "This is FatLite! You don't use 
FatLite, Suze!" She gasped. "You've been using it on him, haven't you? Did 
you put it on his willie?"

Suzanne didn't reply.

"You've gone red, Suze. You did put FatLite on his willie. I'll ask him."

With surprising strength and with the advantage of surprise, she grabbed 
Simon's collar and yanked him out of the warm security of Suzanne's 
cavernous cleavage. He blinked, then sneezed.

"Hello," said Anastasia, "what's your name?"

"Simon," said Simon. "Fucking hell!" He gazed speechlessly at Anastasia's 
fantastic chest, turned to look again at Suzanne's, then turned back to 
Anastasia. He shook his head in total bewilderment.

Anastasia blushed prettily. "Yes, they are, aren't they? And I'm still 
growing. Do you know my boyfriend? His name's Clark." 

"Brian Clark? Or Dennis?"

"Silly! Clark Vincent."

"Vincent's your boyfriend? The crafty little sod. How did he get hold of a 
girl like you?"

"Oh, you know. The usual way. With both hands most of the time. Are you 
in the same class as him?"

"Who, Vincent? No. I do Science."

"You mean you do Sexual Chemistry as well? Suazanne and me are both in 
the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group. We've invented lots of exciting 
things. You've heard of FatLite, haven't you? You've got some on your 
willie!"

"Was that what it was called? Suzanne wouldn't say. She just said it would 
make me a bit bigger. Will it?" Suzanne was speechless, her mouth opening 
and closing silently.

Anastasia was not going to make any false claims on behalf of FatLite. "To 
be honest, we don't know what it might do. We know what it does for 
women's boobs. And we know about women's willies."

"Do women have willies?" Simon looked confused. "I thought they just had 
a sort of crack."

Anastasia giggled. "Gosh! Hasn't she showed you hers? She's a funny girl, 
our Suze. Look!" 

And to Suzanne's horror and Simon's acute embarrassment, Anastasia 
hoisted her skirt and quickly lowered her knickers. She raised one foot and 
planted it on the workbench. It was arguably and probably the most lewd 
sight Simon had ever seen. "See, it's not really just a crack. It's a lot more 
complicated." And Anastasia demonstrated just how complicated the 
equipment was. "It's quite easy to use, though. You just put it in here ...!"

Simon had gone pale.

"You'd better not put yours in here, though, just in case. You've got FatLite 
on it. It will give me huge like lip things down here. And we don't know 
what it does to boys' things, either. Nobody's tried it yet. It might make it 
bigger, or fatter. What you'll have to be careful about is the Uncontrollable 
Horniness!"

"The Uncontrollable What?"

"You get Uncontrollably Horny. It might last a few hours, or maybe a few 
days. You will probably feel like having sex with every girl you see."

"But I go to Lord Ted's. We don't see any girls. The only woman we see is 
Matron, and she's old and fat and ugly. Although one or two of the Sixth 
Form reckon she does it."

"Does what?" Anastasia asked, and Simon's jaw dropped in amazement. 
There was this girl with simply outrageously mountainous boobs, standing 
with one foot up on the desk, flashing her terribly complicated crack, and 
she didn't know what 'doing it' meant.

"When will the Uncontrollable Horniness start?" he asked faintly.

"Tonight," said Anastasia without a shadow of doubt. "What time do you 
have supper?"

"Six o' clock."

"Half past six," said Anastasia. "You'll be going crazy by quarter to seven. 
You should be all right by the end of the week. Tell you what, if you can 
get to a phone, give me a call and tell me how Uncontrollably Horny you 
are. And if it will make you feel any better, I'll describe what I'm wearing. 
I don't wear many clothes in the evenings." Anastasia seemed to realise at 
last where her foot was, and lowered it to the floor. She replaced her 
knickers and adjusted the crotch with an air of preoccupation.

"Anyway, I can't stay round here all day talking to you. I only came down 
to find some more boys for Miss Gruntworthy. My room is next door to 
hers. Call me later, right? Extension 4321."

Anastasia bounced out.

"Wow! Who the fuck was that?"

"She's in our class," said Suzanne bitterly."

"But she's immense! And that pussy. Did you see it?"

"I've seen one before."

"But it was all pink and wet inside."

"Hers always is! Are you going to your interview or not?"

"I thought you might want to kiss a bit more."

"Piss off. You'd better go and get interviewed. You won't get the job, 
though." 

Suzanne turned ponderously and left the lab, her nose in the air.

Simon was about to follow her, puzzled by her apparent sudden change of 
mind. Then he stopped, and looked at the tubs of cream on the bench. 
Quickly, looking around him, he gathered up a selection and stuffed them 
into the pockets of his blazer.

Then he made a dash for the door. Wrongggg! This wasn't the way out! He 
was in a store room. Simon was about to leave and find another way out, 
when he noticed a pile of boxes which had apparently been taken down 
from a shelf. They were covered in dust, but on the top of the box was a 
boldly scrawled message. Uncontrollable Horniness Aerosol Spray. DO NOT 
USE!!!


**********

Down in the quad, I watched a group of boys attempting to lift a huge 
goatskin bag which I knew was filled with waste motor oil. There was 
nothing to grip, and their fingers sank into it, yet slipped helplessly on the 
smooth surface of the bag.

At the far side, Martin and Bob were filming the operation, working as a 
well-drilled team, not speaking, but changing angles as if by telepathy. 
There was no sign of Villiers and Claire.

Anastasia appeared at my side as I watched. Her little hand slipped into 
mine and I felt her pulling me away. Anastasia obviously wanted me to go 
with her. We strolled round the outside of the rejects' paddock, casting an 
eye over the scared-looking boys in their little girls' panties. It was like a 
slave market.

"What do you think of that one, Miss?"

"Not bad. Nice little bum."

"Do you like little bums, Miss?"

"They're nicest to hold on to, I always think."

Anastasia looked thoughtful. "I think the boys I found for you are like that. 
One was a bit fat, but you can throw him out. I found plenty."

"How many?"

"Eleven, Miss. Ten if you chuck out the fat-arsed one. Do you need any 
more?"

"No, darling. Ten should be just fine. Where have you put them?"

"They're in my room. I told them to stay there. They can look out of the 
window."

I looked quickly up at the windows. Corinne was still there, and at the next 
window along, a group of boys' faces peered out past the curtains. 
Anastasia waved to them and stuck her tongue out. The boys laughed and 
pointed at her.

"They seem very friendly, Anastasia. Have you been getting to know them 
a little too closely?"

"Oh, no, Miss. Not all of them, anyway. I only shagged five. And only two of 
them more than once."

"Anastasia, darling. How dreadful!"

"My favourite one is that one with the short hair. I had him six times. The 
others all sat around and watched us."

"Anastasia, you are a disgraceful slut! I hope you took precautions, not like 
Pansy."

"Of course!" She sounded quite hurt. "I got some from Nurse. She asked me 
how many I needed, and I told her about twenty. And she said 'twenty a 
week?' So I said okay, and she gave me a whole box of them. A hundred 
and forty four."

"A hundred and forty four precautions?"

"No, a hundred and forty four packets of three. I can have lots of fun with 
all those! I've only used twelve so far today, so they should last me until 
the end of the month. Unless Clark comes over again."

I made a mental note to speak sharply to Nurse. She was rapidly turning 
our girls into sluts.

"Ooooh, Miss, look!"

I looked where Anastasia was pointing. The Rejects' paddock, surrounded 
by girls, suddenly seemed to have shrunk. I realised what had happened. 
The ropes around the paddock had gone, and the crush of girls had closed 
in on the frightened and inadequately-dressed boys. The St Cat's girls were 
making a strange, unnerving noise, like a low growl, deep in their throats. 
It was like an animal howl, and it made my blood run cold.

And there was a faint but unmistakeable odour of strawberries. It brought 
back terrible memories. I put two and two together, then grabbed 
Anastasia firmly by the hand and led her away from the thronging girls.

"What is it, Miss? You're hurting me!"

"Come away, Staze. Right away. Come upstairs. Introduce your boys to me."

"Now, Miss? They won't be ready yet. I only finished shagging them half 
an hour ago ..."

I got her indoors just in time. When we opened the door and went into our 
bedroom, Corinne was looking agitated over by the window.

"Shan, what's happening down there? Have you seen the girls? They've 
gone mad!"

"Not mad. They're behaving exactly as you'd expect. Those girls have been 
got at!"

"Got at?"

"They have been attacked. Anything could happen in the next half hour. 
Someone has given those girls the Uncontrollable Horniness!"





Part XXX (Readers will also require Part XXX-a, an essential document)





Chapter 88:- Preparations


"Seven weeks!" Moggie spun furiously round in her new revolving chair. 
She came to a halt with her back to us and we waited patiently while she 
scooted round to face us again. Moggie hadn't yet got the hang of her new 
chair.

"Seven weeks since it happened, and we've still not heard the last of it. 
Still, new and terrifying facts are coming to light." We all hung our heads in 
deep shame, apart from Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, who stared 
arrogantly back at Moggie. "Oh, I'm not blaming you. You did your best, but 
the power of Uncontrollable Horniness in the hands and loins of nubile 
girls is far greater than you should be expected to deal with. Megan, what's 
the latest news?"

Smegs consulted a clip-board, one of the eighty new clip-boards ordered 
specially for the breast-carrier interviews. A number of letters were 
attached, newly arrived in the morning's mail, with the folds still 
unflattened. "Sixty-seven boys still accounted for as of this morning," she 
announced gloomily. "Three more came to light last week. Two returned to 
their schools voluntarily, the other was at home, recovering."

"Sixty-seven boys still missing," mourned Moggie. "After seven weeks. I 
think we must give up hope. How many of those may we assume to be 
hidden in the various dormitories at St Cat's, Chauntaille?"

"We're guessing, of course, but our agents believe we could account for 
perhaps fifty, more or less evenly divided among the seven dorms."

"No good searching again, I suppose?"

"Not really. They have lookouts posted in all the corridors. And the girls 
fed the sniffer dogs with aniseed, so they were useless. We sent them back 
to the Anti-Terrorist Branch on Friday." 

"Corinne, any word from your boys? Your breast-carriers?"

"They're saying nothing. I suspect they know something, but I'm not in a 
position to place any pressure on them. I have to allow their trust and love 
to develop naturally over a long period."

"Seven weeks, Corinne? Isn't that long enough?"

"It's only five weeks since they started work. And there was Easter as well. 
I've only had the use of the boys for about three weeks, which is about a 
week each in total, and that includes basic training. How am I supposed to 
pump them for information while they're carrying my tits around? It takes 
all their concentration to keep going in the same direction as each other."

"I know, dear. I'm sorry. You know how it is. It's a terrible burden, being 
responsible for the loss of five dozen boys, their mothers' pride and joy, 
every one of them. And by the time our lot have finished with them, 
they're going to be no use to anyone ever again."

Poor Moggie. I felt so sorry for her. Having made herself scarce on the day 
of the interviews, she didn't even have any boys put by for herself. Smegs 
had a few, I knew, and I still had the ones Anastasia had found for me. 
Actually, I had got rid of all but the three thickest ones, who were 
concealed in the store room upstairs, but I suspected that Anastasia was 
hanging on to a few more for herself, in case she needed them one night.

Anastasia was still seeing Clark on an regular and official basis, thanks to 
Moggie's initiative with Professor Garibaldi of Lord Edward's School which 
allowed liaisons between our girls and their boys. They were allowed two 
nights a week, on a home and away basis, and girls were permitted to 
carry unused dates forward to compensate for missed fixtures on difficult 
weeks.

Moggie had even arranged for the ex-gymnasium to be made available for 
the purpose of mating. For those girls who had no objection to open-plan 
sex; the ex-gymnasium, with its wide open spaces, was ideal, even if the 
atmosphere was chill enough to snap your nipples off.

So Anastasia was assured of her regular dates with Clark. On the principle 
of not shitting on your own doorstep, she had arranged a series of 
alternative unofficial boys for use on the other five nights a week. With 
her unquenchable horniness and ever-expanding breasts, Anastasia was a 
popular and accommodating girl, and quite pretty in a moon-faced way 
when she took her glasses off.

As long as she did it quietly, it was perfectly all right by me. The girl was 
twelve, after all, and had to make her own decisions in life.

Moggie dragged my thoughts back to the present.

"... attention, Chauntaille! What about pregnancies?"

I fumbled through my stack of nine clip-boards. "Routine pregnancies, 
Miss? Or those directly resulting from the Uncontrollable Horniness at the 
interviews?"

"You weren't listening, were you? The Uncontrollable Horniness ones first."

I bit my lip and continued doggedly. "Thirty-nine confirmed, Miss. You 
want their names?"

"That won't be necessary. Just their Forms."

"One in the Upper Sixths, none in the Lower Sixth, Miss, then one in the 
Fifth Form, nine in the Fourths, seven in the Thirds, ten in the Seconds and 
the rest in the Firsts."

"That's terrible! How do you account for there being so many in the Middle 
and Junior Schools?"

"You have to look at the problem from the other direction, Miss," I 
explained patiently. "A girl can only be pregnant once at a time. More of 
the Seniors were already pregnant before the Uncontrollable Horniness 
struck, so they weren't available for pregnancy. We have two hundred and 
thirty girls at the moment. Of those, more or less the usual proportion were 
pregnant already on the day of the interviews. Of the others, according to 
the Roman Catholic Church, a proportion would have been in their safe 
period, or sick, or unavoidably detained, or they prefer girls, or they were 
just plain unlucky. And the First and Second Form girls were not officially 
permitted to touch the interviewees. So by the time the Uncontrollable 
Horniness struck, they were ... how can I put it delicately ... frothing, Miss!"

Moggie had been scribbling figures on a scrap of paper. She looked up. "So 
thirty nine isn't a bad score, then, is it?"

"Quite encouraging, actually, Miss!"

"Good. Well done, Chauntaille!"

I blushed prettily and felt Corinne's and Smegs's fingers as they groped 
across my inner thighs. Their fingers touched on common ground and I 
decided to leave them to get on with it.

"What about routine pregnancies, Shan?"

"One more definitely confirmed since your last meeting, Miss. Pansy 
Woods."

"Pansy! Oh dear."

"What's the matter, Miss?"

"I had a call from her Auntie Tanya. Pansy's and Victoria's mother is still 
out of the country, and won't be coming to the St Cat's Grand Open Day. Ms 
Woods, that's Ms Tanya Woods, called to ask if the girls were all right, 
including Suzanne, of course. I told her yes."

"Pansy's fine, Miss," I confirmed. "She's never been fitter. And her boobs 
have started to grow, of course. I mean, they weren't exactly bee-stings 
before, so you can imagine them now. So she's happy as a pig in shit. She's 
just pregnant, that's all!"

"Well, that's a relief. Perhaps you could call her Auntie Tanya and tell her 
the good news? You know her quite well, don't you?"

"I'd be glad to," I said. Tanya would be thrilled.

"Fine." Moggie turned to her next piece of paper. "Right, last item. The St 
Cat's Grand Open Day. I understand the whole operation is going ahead: 
any more ideas for special items during the day? Yes, Corinne?"

"I thought a wheelbarrow race would be fun, Miss. Five laps of the old 
sports field. Make it a handicap. We could have betting and everything, of 
course."

"Sounds good. Yes, Shan?"

"An obstacle race for pregnant girls, Miss? Handicapping according to the 
number of months."

"Excellent! Arrange it. Any ideas from you, Megan?"

"I'd thought of a sort of First Form Sexual Chemistry Group special event, 
Miss, if Miss Gruntworthy doesn't object. Mothers of girls could come into a 
tent and pay five pounds to be sprayed or rubbed with chemicals."

"What chemicals?"

Smegs interrupted. "It doesn't matter really. They all seem to do the same 
things. But the kids themselves could pick something suitable for most of 
the mothers who came in. Nobody would be disappointed."

"Fine. Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, get the Art girls to run us up some 
large signs, day-glo and black, make that one say 'First Form Sexual 
Chemistry Group Anoint-a-Mum Tent'. What about the menu?"

"Menu?"

"List of substances available, what they do - illustrated, of course - before 
and after photos ..."

"I see what you mean," I said doubtfully. "Before and after might be 
difficult. Where can we get pictures of 'before' breast enhancement? We 
can't fake it."

"Enhance a spare girl. Take some pictures of her today, then bump her up 
to the max and take some more pictures. Find a flat-chested one, make it 
more obvious."

Corinne quickly riffled through a print-out and pointed with her pen at a 
suitable candidate for breast enhancement.

"I could let you do the same with my pussy," Smegs offered, a little 
bashfully. "All we need is to get some pictures of it the way it is now."

Moggie looked doubtful. "What about before? We can't use shots of another 
girl's. These things look different. I mean, look at Shan's, then look at Miss 
Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen's."

There was a brief pause while everyone obeyed Miss Thunderbolt's order, 
Corinne holding up Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen's outraged skirt.

Smegs blushed. "You don't actually need to use another girl's. A boyfriend 
took some pictures of me a while back."

"I never saw these, Smegs," I challenged her. I felt hurt.

"No, I never collected the prints. They're still at the Photo-Shop."

"God, Megan," sighed Moggie. "You're a strange one. Send one of the girls to 
collect them. Okay, that just about takes care of the mothers, what about 
the dads?"

"A brothel, Miss," I suggested diffidently. "Maybe a Mini-Brothel."

"Great idea. We have the expertise. Who wants to organise it?"

"I thought I could have a word with Toots. I know she's not a student yet, 
and she would want a rake-off, probably fifty per cent of the takings, but 
she would arrange everything perfectly, and she's a very clean girl. Her 
master insisted on that in the Middle East."

"Fifty per cent? A bit steep. See if you can get her down to thirty-five, 
forty top whack."

"Will do, Miss."

I was pretty sure Toots would do it for love, so any rake-off would come to 
me. Ouch. I felt a nudge from Smegs, and another simultaneously from 
Corinne. Okay, any rake-off would be shared among the three of us. But 
with any luck we would clear a grand each. Not to be sniffed at.

"Just make sure the dads don't find themselves screwing their own 
daughters, Chauntaille."

"If you say so, Miss," I said stiffly.

"Unless the daughters absolutely insist."

"Then can we charge them double, Miss?"

"Sounds fair enough to me. Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, another sign: 
'Mini-Brothel'." Moggie looked anxiously round at her staff. "Any other 
business?" Moggie slammed an ornate crystal ashtray down on the desk, 
smashing it to pieces. "No? Next meeting one week from today. It will be 
the last before the St Cat's Grand Open Day. We have ten days to get the 
show on the road. That is, YOU have ten days. I myself will be away for a 
few days on business. Meeting closed, ladies, thank you." She stood up and 
looked at her watch. "If you will excuse me, I have an important meeting 
in town ..."

Her chair was still slowly spinning when we heard her BMW roaring out of 
the drive. Moggie was late for sex.


**********

"I'm telling my mum you're preggers, and she'll tell your mum, and she'll 
send for you and you'll have to leave St Cat's and go and have your baby in 
Singapore," teased Suzanne.

"Bollocks!" Pansy retorted, none too politely. "Tell your mum if you like. 
She'll understand. She had you when she was thirteen. Anyway, you're 
only jealous."

"Jealous? Huh!"

"Yeah, jealous. Because you're still a virgin. And my tits are getting bigger 
and bigger already, and I'm not even three months gone yet. They're 
gonna get absolutely HUGE!"

"Huh!" Suzanne was sounding less and less assured.

Pansy stopped sneering at her cousin. She put a hand under Suzanne's 
chin. "Why don't you get a baby as well? I'll find a boy for you and show 
you what to do. It's dead easy, even if they can't find the way in for 
themselves. I always put it in for them anyway. Then you bounce around a 
bit until they squirt. Most of them only take a couple of seconds. Honest! 
It's just like fucking!"

"Just like fucking?" asked Suzanne, puzzled.

"You know. Just like when you sit on a boy's face and do yourself on his 
nose!"


**********

"Team ... ready! Ready ... walk on!"

It was Corinne's voice, from down in the quad. I hurried to the window. 
Down below, in the warm sunshine, eight boys, in two more or less straight 
lines, were walking across the open space. There was no sign of Corinne. 

"Team ... left wheel!" Seven of the boys obediently turned left and set off in 
a new direction. The eighth disobediently angled off to the right. With 
commendable dedication, he splashed into the fountain, still turned off to 
save the planet. Realising his mistake, he came to a halt, knee-deep in 
green slime. Corinne began to scream fearsomely at him from under the 
porch, where I now saw she was sitting in one of the armchairs from the 
ex-staff room. The other seven boys continued walking in a straight line, 
and only a strangled yell of "Whoa!" from Corinne brought them to a halt, 
inches short of the brick wall. "Come back over here, all of you," she yelled, 
and the boys straggled back in a dejected group, keeping their distance 
from the one who didn't know his left from his right.

I could hear Corinne giving them a good talking-to. This was their third 
session this week, and the team was still nowhere near the peak of 
efficiency required. A higher-pitched voice rang out on the other side of 
the quad, and eight boys appeared, trotting briskly, with Anastasia close 
behind them, squatting on a small trolley, pulled along on two lengths of 
rope. "Team ... WHOA!" Anastasia screeched, and all eight boys slithered to 
a halt just short of the fountain.

Without the benefit of brakes, Anastasia's trolley continued at 
undiminished pace, between the two columns of boys, until its front 
wheels collided decisively with the low wall surrounding the fountain. 
Anastasia, obeying the laws of nature, rose to her feet and floated more or 
less gracefully over the parapet, straight into the pool of slime. Her team 
looked on in horror.

"Good!" spluttered Anastasia, recovering, and wiping green muck from her 
blouse. She stood up to her knees in the clag, like an inland waterways 
version of Aphrodite. "Excellent trot, lads, and a fine halt. Next time, try 
and stop the trolley as well, if you would, please." She held out a little hand 
and the nearest two boys dragged her out, a tiny, bedraggled and hugely 
busty figure, looking up at her team. She raised her lips to her rescuers, 
and rewarded each of them with a little kiss. Even from up here at the 
window, I could see the pink of her tongue as it darted into their mouths.

They installed her on her trolley again, all eight of them touching her 
gently around the sides of her chest and bottom. Once more, they took up 
the ropes. "Team ... walk on!" sang out Anastasia, and away they went, at a 
more cautious pace, disappearing round the corner beside the bra 
measuring facility.

Meanwhile, Corinne had dismissed her team. They wandered away looking 
utterly defeated, and a few minutes later Corinne came in the door. 
Exhausted, she flopped on the bed.

"Oh, poor darling!" I rushed to her side and applied something moist and 
cooling to her face.

"Thank you, Shannie," she said with an expression of distaste, and handed 
them back to me. I thought I had better not put them back on, and went to 
the chest of drawers for another clean pair. My last.

"Anastasia's team were looking good," I said lightly. "Until they crashed."

"My lot are useless. It's not always the same boy who gets it wrong. I don't 
know how that lot got through the interviews. I daren't even try them 
with my tits yet. Thank goodness for Team B. They're not perfect, but they 
make this lot look brilliant."

"Those are Team C, aren't they? I recognise the little blond one at the 
back."

"That's right. Bloody hopeless. Anastasia is drilling Team A at the moment. 
B are on Sex Break."

"I should have thought C didn't qualify for a sex break after that 
performance."

"That's right. They're not getting one. That's why they looked so crestfallen 
as they walked off. No sex for three days, I told them."

"Three days? What about their contracts?"

"Fuck their contracts. If they can learn which way is left, they can shag to 
their hearts' content, but until then, they're in breach of contract anyway. 
I've got them coming back at two, and again at six this evening. And I told 
them, they're not getting to lay a finger on my tits until they can go 
through a complete hour without a single mistake."

"Oh, Corinne, that's a bit harsh!"

"It's harsher on my tits, dear, when they don't know left from right!"

We heard Anastasia driving her team back into the quad. "Team ...Whoa!"

There was silence from down below, then a polite cheer from eight boys, 
before we heard them trotting away with the empty trolley, and 
Anastasia's door opening and closing with a self-satisfied slam.

"She's very good with them, Cee!"

"She's too soft with them, kissing them all the time." Corinne looked 
disapproving. "She even stops and gives them a feel of her boobs every ten 
minutes."

"It seems to work. They're eating out of her hand."

"Not just her hand, Shannie. I suspect she's servicing the lot of them, on 
and off. The child is so insatiable, she makes my head spin. It's a wonder 
Clark doesn't suspect something."

"Too besotted, I imagine. Never mind, though. Even if they're slow on the 
uptake, you can always get around at a walking pace with them."

"Even a walking pace is painful when they can't walk in step. They have to 
be out of step, actually, the left hand column and the right hand column, or 
it builds up a sort of swing that gets out of control. Trouble is, Moggie 
wants a display team demonstration for the St Cat's Grand Open Day. It's 
all very well, but I'm the only one with tits big enough to need a team of 
eight, so I have to go through the torture of the rehearsals."

"We could use teams of six. Amelia Murgatroyd could drive a Six. And 
Shona."

"If Shona can't steer a wheelbarrow, what is she going to be like with six 
headstrong teenage boys in front of her. They'd get a sniff of her milk and 
they'd be off in all directions. Amelia's not much better."

I sighed. "They're the only ones big enough. It's a pity Cassandra's not here 
yet. Even though she's no age at all, she could use a Six, maybe even an 
Eight, if they practised lining up a bit further apart. Anastasia would be 
ideal, but ..."

"... but not for a few more months, Shan. And don't even think of enhancing 
Anastasia in time for the St Cat's Grand Open Day."

"Corinne, I wasn't!" But my blushes gave me away. My blushes always give 
me away.





Chapter 89:- Meet The Folks


It was a lovely morning. One of those early summer days when the 
morning mist gives a promise of a scorching afternoon, although a soft 
breeze was forecast to get up in the mid-morning to cool the overheated 
flanks of girls and their guests alike.

As staff members, Corinne and I were not bound by the same rigid dress 
rules which so restricted the students. With their microscopic skirts and 
bursting blouses, the girls already had a head start on us when it came to 
pulling something tasty, so we felt justified in dressing up a little.

Corinne's problems were greater than mine, as she had to leave her breasts 
almost completely exposed for her breast carriers to obtain a reasonable 
grip. She was able to cover the last foot or so of each breast with a custom-
made bikini bra in canary yellow. This concealed her nipples and areolae. 
It was held in place by an arrangement of long silken cords which passed 
over her shoulders and round her waist. Clit had put a tremendous amount 
of design work into these cords, to ensure that the bra cups stayed in place 
regardless of the position of the breasts: from horizontally in front - or 
even supported at up to ten degrees above the horizontal - to hanging 
vertically downwards. Such attention to detail is vital in garment design, 
and is often taken for granted by casual observers.

Casual observers standing behind Corinne were rewarded by a view of her 
minute waist and hips in a pair of matching canary yellow pedal pushers 
and yellow espadrilles. Pity about the colour, I thought, but at least she 
was co-ordinated.

My problem was to conceal my still-growing waist and hips, now so 
shamefully huge, I hardly dared look in a mirror in case they had 
ballooned another inch. I lowered my ScatBra FreeTips to its minimum 
support setting and eased my bulk into a clinging jersey creation in 
shocking pink. I had argued bitterly with Clit over the neckline, but she 
had prevailed, and it plunged in front to about a foot below waist level, 
revealing the upper halves of my breasts. I saw later that she had made 
herself a skirt in the same material, presumably with what she had saved 
from the neckline of my dress.

Smegs came in for a twirl as we were finishing dressing. Her legs were 
endless and tanned in the tiniest shorts imaginable, and her top was 
almost non-existent. From behind, she was effectively nude. If her outfit 
had been any other colour it might have been more visible, but it matched 
Smegs's skin tones almost perfectly.

"You look stunning, Smegs," I said sincerely, and I blushed as she scolded 
me for leaving traces of saliva on the crotch of her shorts. Only the timely 
arrival of Corinne's breast carriers, Team A, saved me the embarrassment 
of a further tongue-lashing from Smegs when I caught her bra cup with 
one of my earrings and both her volleyball breasts leaped out into the 
open.

The eight boys took up their positions, and at an almost inaudible word of 
command from the Number One boy, they raised Corinne's mammoth 
breasts to the horizontal using silken slings looped over their naked 
shoulders. Their bodies had been oiled, and the only garment they wore 
was a shiny gold-coloured sequinned jockstrap. I made a mental note to 
congratulate the boys' team of dressers from the Third Form who, even 
now, would have been preparing the back-up carriers of Team B.

Down in the quad, a band was tuning up, there was excited barking from 
the Police Dog display team as they caught the musky scent of aroused 
girlhood, and childish shrieks of delight could be heard from the woods as 
the first sexual couplings of the day took place.

"Time to go, girls," said Smegs, and we followed Corinne and her Team 
along the corridor and down the stairs. These boys were good. They 
needed no commands beyond an occasional single word of prompting from 
Corinne.

Then we were out in the warm sunshine, where Smegs immediately 
excused herself.

"I have to check that they're all wearing their knickers," she whispered 
coyly, and darted off, her appearance bringing startled glances from all the 
onlookers.

"She won't have any problems checking," I muttered to Corinne, "their 
skirts are so short you can see their knickers without needing to bend 
down. Those girls are a credit to St Cat's," I said, my voice cracking with 
emotion. "It makes me feel so ... good!"

Corinne obviously felt the same. She touched my forearm with soft fingers, 
her eyes shining with tears of pride.

"Come on," I said, "let's go and see who's here."


**********

"I'm telling Miss as soon as I see her. You are in deepest shit, Pansy."

"She said I could. I'm allowed. Miss Meadowlark said I was allowed to take 
my bra off if it was too tight. And if I get a boy, I can use the pregnant 
girls' room, instead of taking him all the way up to the dorm, so there!"

"I'm still telling. The notice on the board said you have to wear your bra. It 
never said anything about being pregnant. Just because you're pregnant 
doesn't mean you can walk around with your nipples sticking out like that. 
Look at them!"

"Yes," said Pansy happily. "I've looked! In the mirror, of course."

"Anyway, you're not properly pregnant yet. You're only three months, if 
that. You shouldn't be allowed to use the pregnant girls shaggery until 
you've got a lump. You haven't got a lump yet. All you've got is fucking 
great big tits."

"I don't care, Suze."

"You could have found a bra that fit anyway. You could have worn one of 
mine."

"I know, Suze."

"I'm telling, anyway."

"Go on then. Here's Miss Meadowlark and Miss Gruntworthy now. Tell 
them."

"I will. Just you watch."


**********

"Miss!"

Suzanne had leapt out in front of us, waving her arms.

"Team ... left wheel!" Corinne yelled, and her boys, conditioned to instant 
obedience, did their best. The left column went left as ordered. The right 
column saw Suzanne jump into their path. Their only way to avoid her was 
to turn sharp right. They did. "Right wheel!" screamed Corinne, realising 
her mistake too late. "Whoa! Ooof!"

"Hello, Suzanne," I said, grabbing a handful of her hair and heaving her out 
of Corinne's cleavage where she had become wedged between the vast 
mounds of flesh. The eight boys looked at her as if it was her fault.

Corinne was still shouting at the boys, who hung their heads in shame. This 
was the A Team, and on their first public outing, they had blown it. They 
had crashed. Nobody had been killed, nor even hurt, but Team A had been 
tried, and found wanting. Their oiled shoulders drooped.

"Sorry, Miss," murmured the Number One boy. He gave the 'down' signal, 
and all eight of them, in a single, smoothly co-ordinated movement, 
lowered Corinne's breasts until they lay against her thighs.

"Where are you going?" Corinne demanded.

"We failed, Miss."

"Come back here and pick up my tits!" The boys did, but their confidence 
was gone. "Take me over there, we're blocking the footpath." They shunted 
Corinne across to the side of the path, but it took them several attempts 
before they got her neatly parked.

Meanwhile, I asked Suzanne what she wanted, leading her by the arm 
across to where Pansy was standing, preening herself. "She's not wearing a 
bra, Miss. And her nipples look obscene."

I looked. They did. Dark shadowy circles showed starkly through the thin 
material of Pansy's blouse. This was not the sort of thing we expected of a 
First Form girl. I told her so.

"But Miss Meadowlark said I don't need to wear a bra, in case I squash my 
boobs. I am pregnant, you know, Miss!"

Prissy little bitch. I went back over to where Corinne stood, surrounded by 
her group of forlorn and oily boys. "Did you give Pansy permission not to 
wear a bra today?"

"Yes, I suppose so. She said her bra was so tight it hurt her boobs. She 
reminded me she's pregnant."

"She reminds everybody of that. I'm going to send her back to the dorm, 
either to come back when she's decently dressed, or to stay there all day." 
I turned and strode purposefully in her direction. "Pansy!" I was building 
up a head of steam. "Oh, hello, Tanya. I didn't know you'd arrived."

"We're all here. Well, not Pansy's mum, but Grandma Trudy is here, and Sir 
Roger. And Clarrie, and young Davie. He's quite grown up now. But you're 
looking very fit."

"I'm looking gross!" I said grumpily. Tanya was hugging Pansy in one arm, 
Suzanne in the other. The three of them were just a row of six gigantic 
breasts. It was a happy family scene. Certainly, I couldn't tell Pansy off for 
not wearing a bra, not while her aunt was cuddling her.

"What about our naughty little girlie, here?" Tanya giggled. "At least I was 
thirteen when I had Suze. This little hussy is going to beat me by a whole 
year!" She hugged Pansy tighter. "Suzanne's turn next, I suppose!"

"Oh, Mum!" Suzanne squirmed and blushed in embarrassment.

I felt for her. Tanya actually wanted her daughter pregnant! Tanya looked 
radiant. "At least, this time, I'll have my next one before young Pan. About 
three months before!" And releasing the two little girls, she reached below 
her bust and pulled her dress tighter across her belly. Oh no, I thought. 
Another one.

"Congratulations!" I said weakly.

"Great news, isn't it?" Tanya stared more closely at my lower half. "You as 
well?"

"Me? No chance! I'm just getting fat."

The girls sniggered girlishly. "Why don't you two go and see if you can find 
Grandma Trudy," said Tanya, patting them on their bottoms. The girls 
immediately made themselves scarce, Pansy almost dragging Suzanne 
away. She wanted to get away from her teacher before the question of 
foundation garments raised its head.

Tanya watched them go with a sigh. "Well, now, Shan." She took my arm. 
"Pansy getting pregnant! Never a dull moment at St Catherine's High School 
for Girls? How did this latest fiasco occur?"

"Same way as yours, I imagine," I mumbled, then stopped. Tanya was 
looking elsewhere.

"Wha ... what ... who's THAT?"

I followed the direction of her eyes. Corinne had finished speaking to her 
boys and had ordered them to pick up her breasts again.

"I thought it was a fancy dress thing, like a pantomime horse," Tanya said 
quietly. "Tell me it is, Shan. Tell me those things aren't real!"

"Tanya, but of course. You haven't met Corinne, our Support and Mobility 
Mistress. She's real, all right." I guided her towards Corinne. Anything to 
divert Tanya from the subject of unplanned pregnancies.

Tanya just stood and stared. "I'm sorry, Corinne," she said at last. "I have 
never seen anything like it. What bra size are they? Oops, sorry. It was the 
first question that came to mind. It's what they all ask me." She scanned 
the team of boys, who were in their walking formation, holding Corinne's 
breasts about six inches apart to reduce friction. The nipples were 
supported at about waist level. "I'd like to shake hands," said Tanya, a little 
belatedly, "but I can't get near enough."

"That's easy enough," laughed Corinne, who was regaining her good spirits. 
"Right hand column ... sideways, shuffle!" she commanded, and four of the 
boys obediently shambled a few paces to one side. Fortunately, Corinne 
remembered to tell them to Whoa! And they stopped. "Pleased to meet 
you, Tanya," giggled Corinne, reaching over her right breast to offer a hand 
to Tanya, who entered Corinne's cleavage with a sense of wonder.

"You're privileged, Tan," I told her. "It's not just anyone who gets invited in 
there!"

Corinne stuck her tongue out at me. When she does that it always make 
my insides turn over. This time was no exception. Meanwhile, Tanya was 
fascinated by Corinne, and engaging her in animated conversation. I 
decided to escape before the subject inevitably worked its way round to 
adolescent pregnancies in supposedly all-girl educational establishments.

"I just saw someone waving to me," I called, backing away. "See you a little 
later."

It was time to mingle with the fast-thickening crowd. I made a royal 
progress through the crush of school-uniformed nubilia and peacock-bright 
motherhood. Girls were pointing me out shyly to their parents. I heard the 
whispered words 'our Miss Gruntworthy' over and over again. Mothers 
tried to meet my eye, but I felt their gaze travelling down my yawning 
cleavage to my thickening waist and the all too clear evidence of 
pregnancy further down. I could feel myself being classified as another 
single parent family, another triumph for rabid lust over old-fashioned 
morals and common-sense family planning.

"Shan! Whoooooooo!" Someone was waving over the heads of the crowd. 
Over by the wheelbarrow course. I pushed my way through.

"Baps! You made it. I thought you'd be busy working today." We hugged 
and kissed wetly, and members of the public were forced to turn away in 
acute embarrassment.

"You're looking fit, Shan. So you decided to start a family at last!"

"No! This is all me. I'm thinking of getting a placard to hang round my neck 
saying I'm not pregnant."

"Well, if you're not, your hips and thighs are a disgrace. You used to be so 
tiny and slim. Still ..." she took a fistful of love-handle and wiggled it about. 
I began to feel horny.

"Is Cassandra with you?" I asked, pulling a well-lubricated hand out from 
under my skirt and desperately changing the subject.

"She's why I came. Had to get her to show me around. Where the bras are 
made and everything. Christ, the tits around here! I've never seen so much 
tit, and I'm in the girl-dairy business!"

"They're doing St Cat's proud," I said with a catch in my voice. "It's a pity 
you can't stay all day. By mid-afternoon most of them will be practically 
topless."

"Pity, but my girls need my constant attention. They send their love, by 
the way." She was looking around her all the time, occasionally breaking 
off and gasping as a particularly well endowed couple of girls wobbled past 
us, smirking self-consciously. "Where is that child? I told her not to 
wander off."

"There she is, look!" I had spotted Cassandra in the wheelbarrow 
scrutineering tent, where the disco lad was examining each vehicle for 
safety and road-worthiness. "I think she's trying out a wheelbarrow for 
size. Bloody hell, she needs one, too. She's even bigger!"

"Does it show?" Baps looked at her younger sister. "Gosh, it does from this 
angle. Is there anywhere I can get her milked?"

"Depends what you want to do with it. If you want to bottle it and take it 
home, you could go in the caretaker's shed, but if you just want to let her 
give drinks, you can do it here. It's a hot morning, she'll get plenty of 
customers."

"Well, if that's all right. I wouldn't want to upset anyone ..."

I left Baps and Cassandra setting up their own drinks stall. They had found 
a table from somewhere, and Cassandra already had taken one stupendous 
breast out of her bodice and laid it on the table, where milk dribbled and 
spurted gently from the nipple. The first few customers were already 
waiting, although I wondered if they would be able to get their mouths 
around one of Cassandra's hugely distended spigots.

It must have been the heat. As I wandered off, girls' fathers were trying to 
meet my eye, before their gaze travelled down to my yawning cleavage. 
Most of them looked no further, although one or two gave me a closer 
scrutiny, and allowed their jaws to drop open in disbelief. Before long, I 
began to see the same fathers again and again, glancing casually at me 
without really looking. There were ten or a dozen now, following me 
around at a discreet distance: gradually the numbers grew, until I realised 
that I had separated as many as forty or fifty men from their wives or 
loved ones.

It was time to strike up a conversation with someone, before my brigade 
of followers began to get out of hand. I decided to take a look in the quad, 
and as if at the cue of an all-seeing theatrical director, immediately spotted 
the distinctive shape of Grandma Trudy.

"Shan! You're looking incredible, honey!" her voice rang out across the 
crowded quadrangle. "Don't tell me, when's the happy event? There's a lot 
of it about, right now!"

I had reached her side, and she lowered her voice a few decibels. "First it 
was young Tanya, I'm really happy for her, you know? And little Pansy, 
too. I didn't think it would take that minx very long, once she found out 
what went where. And Clarrie, too. Did you hear about Clarrie?"

It was news to me. "Clarrie? Pregnant? Gosh, that's lovely news. Who's the 
... I mean, when is it due?"

"She's got a few more months yet. Due in August. She sure looks well on it. 
She's about here somewhere..." Trudy's voice tailed off as she scanned the 
horizon. "Nope. Can't see her. Toria probably took her for a look round the 
old place."

"How's Sir Roger?" I asked politely. "He hadn't been too well ...?"

"He's as well as could be expected, the horny old goat. Suze and Pan have 
taken him off to have a look at the Mini-Brothel. Hey, that's so quaint. 
They said they would give him a personal introduction to the Madam. Ms 
Lashmore? Sounds like a dominatrix."

"Toots? No, I don't think she does whipping, not yet. Plenty of time, though, 
she's only ten. No, Toots is straight sex, no questions asked. Sir Roger will 
like her, I'm sure."

"As long as it keeps him off the streets. He's been getting kinda tetchy 
lately, since Clarrie caught. She got a whole lot bigger, and Sir Roger 
wanted to do all the usual things, and Clarrie just couldn't any more, just 
physically couldn't. Well, you know how she was built before. Anyways ... 
when's yours due?"

"Me? No, not me. I'm just putting on a bit of weight."

"C'mon, honey!" Trudy patted my cheek. "You're flushed and beautiful and 
great with child!"

I blushed prettily. She wasn't going to believe my protests short of a 
physical examination.

"I think I saw someone waving to me over there," I said suddenly, gazing 
into the distance. "I'll see you later, won't I? Enjoy your visit. You'll have to 
persuade the girls to show you round the school. Must dash, bye ...!"

"Take care, honey ...!"





Chapter 90:- Light Relief


"Dawn! So glad you could make it!" I wondered if she had found the Mini-
Brothel yet, and had a word with her step-daughter, the Madam.

"Hi, Shan. Lovely day! And a marvellous show you've put on. A lot of 
people must have worked very hard."

"Oh, yes. And a lot are working very hard today, as well. How much have 
you seen?" I was trying to edge her away from the marquee in the corner 
of the quad where the words 'Mini-Brothel' were discreetly displayed on a 
brilliant orange sign, eighteen feet by three.

"I've watched the police dogs, and one of the heats of the wheelbarrow 
racing. Great fun. I'm sure my daughter Cinders would enjoy that. The 
finals will be worth seeing, later. But I was looking for Toots. Do you 
suppose she's up to some mischief?"

"Toots? No, she'll be okay, wherever she is. I saw her earlier, when Nigel 
dropped her off."

"Oh, good. You know what she's like. I half expected her to be running a 
house of ill-repute by now. But these girls! They are fantastic. I never saw 
so many huge tits in my life, and the uniforms are really amazing! Strange 
thing, the clock struck just now, and just like that, every one of the St Cat's 
girls took her tie off and unfastened the top two buttons of her blouse. 
They couldn't have done it better if they'd been rehearsing it for months!" 
Dawn gazed about her. I was still trying to lead her away from the Mini-
Brothel. She was resisting slightly, and we were describing a course 
midway between hers and mine. Somehow, we arrived at the entrance to 
the girl's dormitories.

"Hello, Anastasia!" shouted Dawn suddenly, and Anastasia - who had just 
emerged rather furtively from the door with four boys who seemed to 
have dressed in a hurry - spun round.

"Oh, hello, Mrs Lashmore! Lovely to see you. Were you looking for Toots? 
She's over at the Mini-Brothel today. I'm going that way. I'll take you, if 
you like."

And before I could lift a finger in protest, Anastasia had taken Dawn's arm 
and led her off into the crowd.


**********

"You look even worse now you've taken your tie off, Pansy." Suzanne 
glowered at her cousin who had deliberately opened the top four buttons 
of her blouse on the stroke of eleven. "And if you carry on at this rate, 
you'll be naked by this afternoon. I'm going to find Miss Gruntworthy and 
tell her ..."

"Go on, then, Tell-tale Tit. See Miss Gruntworthy. I'll see Miss Meadowlark. 
She's my friend."

The girls stood and snarled at each other, and groups of stray fathers and 
menfolk gaped at the diminutive couple with the astounding breasts. 
Although Pansy's were still not quite as big as Suzanne's, she was slimmer 
than her cousin, and with the top four of her buttons undone and no bra, 
she provided a far more entertaining view. Men were gathering to stare in 
their general direction, while pretending to study the wholly 
unremarkable architecture of the St Cat's quadrangle.

Without a further word, the two girls turned on their heel and stalked off. 
Pansy had suddenly felt unaccountably horny and decided to go in search 
of Davie: Suzanne was finding the competition uncomfortably hot, not a 
sensation she was used to, especially as far as her cousin was concerned.

She blundered off in search of available boys, and almost immediately 
struck gold, or more accurately, oil. She encountered the eight evenly 
matched bodies of the Team B Breast Carriers, on their way to relieve 
Corinne's A Team at noon, and currently marking time with forty minutes 
still to go.

"Hi, boys!" Suzanne mewed softly, nuzzling up to the team's Number One 
boy, the appointed leader. She rubbed her breasts against his jockstrap, 
then stepped back to study the effect. It was quite gratifying. Despite his 
job of carrying one eighth of arguably the Biggest Breasts in the World, 
Number One boy was only flesh and blood, and Suzanne was decidedly 
made of a very great deal of the same. He watched as Suzanne's nipple 
untelescoped itself away from his well-filled groin.

"Shit, Suze, now look what you've done," he hissed, crossing his legs and 
bending over from the waist to try and hide what was happening. Suzanne 
giggled and applied her other nipple to see if that one worked as well. If 
anything, it worked even better.

The other boys looked on in horror. They daren't say anything in case 
Suzanne decided to rub herself against them, too. It must have been 
telepathy. Suzanne eased her breasts away from Number One boy, then 
deliberately turned away from him, until her plump bottom was pressing 
against his by-now fully erect member. She wriggled herself around until 
she felt it fit neatly into the cleft between her buttocks, then blew a little 
kiss over her shoulder and launched herself at her next victim, who 
happened to be the Number Five boy.

With two down, or more accurately, two up and six to go, Suzanne was in 
her element.

Meanwhile, Pansy was approaching the entrance to the Mini-Brothel 
marquee. At that moment, she saw Anastasia leading a woman she thought 
she recognised as Toots's step-mother. Something told her it would 
perhaps not be the best idea in the world if Mrs Lashmore came face to 
face with the Madam of the Mini-Brothel.

"Oh, hi, Anastasia!" Pansy said brightly. "Mrs Lashmore, isn't it?" Dawn 
nodded. "I'm a friend of Toots. You weren't looking for her, by any 
chance?" Pansy shook her head at Anastasia, who was pointing at the Mini-
Brothel and trying to speak.

"Yes," said Dawn, "Anastasia was taking me. She said she was in here, 
although I can't think why she should be. Must be some mistake."

"Oh, yes, it is," said Pansy. "In fact, I thought I saw her a while ago. Over 
this way!" And Pansy grabbed at Dawn's other arm and tried to drag her 
off toward the bra measuring facility. Meanwhile, she was trying to wink 
at Anastasia, and failing. Pansy could never wink without her mouth 
opening automatically. It was as if she was trying to insert a monocle in 
her eye.

Dawn looked at Pansy with alarm. "Are you all right? Is there something in 
your eye?"

Anastasia refused to let go of Dawn's other arm. "She's this way. What's up 
with your eye, Pan?" she pulled harder.

Pansy retaliated. Dawn was tugged one way then the other, then both ways 
at once. Curious onlookers watched as this innocent woman became the 
victim of a tug-of-war between two massively well-developed young girls. 
All three participants were raising their voices as they became more 
agitated.

"What you doin' to my Auntie Mum?" said Toots suddenly, emerging from 
the doorway of her marquee.

The two girls let go of Dawn, and all three of them stared at Toots. She was 
certainly a remarkable vision. Pansy recovered her voice first. "Gosh! You 
look nice, Toots!"

"T'anks, Pan. Dese my workin' clothes. Come in de office an' have a cup of 
tea."

Too flabbergasted to think of an excuse, Dawn, Pansy and Anastasia 
followed meekly as Toots stood aside and ushered them into the cool 
interior of the big tent. It was dark inside after the brilliance of the 
sunshine, and they all blinked, straining to see. The far wall was hung with 
tasteless draperies, and there was a doorway with a bead curtain which 
stirred slightly in a breeze which blew from somewhere.

Faint cries carried to their ears, the squeals of girls mingling with the 
harsher, more earthy shouts of men presumably in the throes of ecstasy. 
"Business is goin' well," Toots explained. "Go roun' to de left."

They found themselves in a neat and spacious office. Toots's desk, with its 
computer and no chair occupied one corner, and there was a group of 
inviting armchairs round a low table in the centre of the floor. "Take de 
weight off your feet," said Toots, picking up a small bell and ringing it.

A Fourth Former dressed in harem costume appeared almost immediately. 
"Tea for four, please, Saskia," snapped Toots, and the girl bowed, her eyes 
lowered.

"Your wish is my command, O Madam," she purred and backed out of the 
office.

"Well, very cosy," said Dawn, looking round at the huge photographs 
displayed on the walls. In pride of place, Toots's gigantic portrait in harem 
pants hung over the desk, picked out by a spotlight. A phone rang, and 
Toots plucked a mobile handset from her cleavage.

"Yo?" She listened for a while. "How many we got free?" Silence again. "And 
he want a block bookin' for how many?" Toots strode over to the computer 
and tapped a few keys. The display scrolled endlessly down a vast list of 
names. "Okie-dokie. Bring in six more girls. Make sure dey properly 
dressed and clean. Listen, call Miss Clit and tell her I need her factory for 
two hours at one o' clock. Six beds. Usual arrangement. Den tell number 
five to hurry it up, or she lose she bonus. How goes it, 'part from dat? 
Great! Later, mon!"

Toots slammed the antenna down into the phone and thrust it back into 
her bosom. "Fuckin' incompetent bastard," she complained bitterly. "Never, 
ever, employ a man to do a girl's job," she advised her shocked audience. 
"Ah, Saskia, drop it down on de table. Good kid, dat one," she confided after 
the slave had bowed herself out of the office. "I can get her a place with 
my ole mate the Pasha Mandingo of Cantelopia, any time."

"Aren't you cold in that dress, Toots," asked Dawn.

"No problem, Auntie Mum," the girl laughed, her immense breasts jiggling. 
They were balanced on a platform bra which somehow held them out in 
front of her so that their upper surfaces were slightly higher than her 
shoulders. She had to peer over them to see to either side. Probably more 
than two thirds of her coffee-coloured breasts was on display. The rest, 
which included the nipples - but only just - was sheathed in scarlet latex 
which clung to her like her skin. In fact, it was tighter than her skin, as 
there seemed no possible way she could ever have sat down in that dress. 
There was no room for underwear: in fact, there was convincing evidence 
that she wasn't wearing any. Toots smelled of expensively musky perfume 
and warm rubber.

"Pity about de uneven floor in here, I can't wear me heels," she 
complained, indicating a pair of scarlet shoes with improbably high heels 
which were tossed casually on the desk.

She padded sinuously on bare feet across the office and sat down - 
confounding the experts - and poured the tea, an incongruously 
domesticated gesture which made her guests gasp. It was almost as 
shocking as if Toots had taken all her clothes off and inserted a gigantic 
dildo.

"We doin' a roarin' trade. I told 'em de one tent wouldn't be big enough, 
but dat Miss Thunderbolt, she say dis is all she can afford. She don' listen! 
I tell her she make serious money on dis thing. Me, I ain't makin' a penny. 
I need de tax loss."

The others sipped their tea in stunned silence. Was this the way it was 
going to be when Toots was a full time student at St Cat's? The place would 
never be the same again. At least, life would never be dull. And a St Cat's 
girl was probably assured of an honest living if she played her cards right.

Pansy glanced across the table at Anastasia and grinned at her. She even 
managed a successful wink. Both girls were obviously thinking the same 
thing.


**********

I wanted to be as far away as possible from the Mini-Brothel when Toots 
met her Auntie Mum, so I headed for the exit from the quad. With any 
luck, I would bump into Smegs at the obstacle course for pregnant girls. I 
thought I had discovered Corinne again, but it turned out to be her reserve 
Team of boys. They seemed to be gathered in a huddle, as if their Number 
One boy had called them together for a Team talk.

"Hi, Miss," fluted Suzanne's nicest little girl voice. She was obviously up to 
no good. Where was she? "I'm in here," and a hand waved from within the 
circle of oiled boys' bodies. I approached, but the boys made no effort to 
open their circle and let me in.

"I'm just making friends with the B Team," Suzanne giggled. "Come and 
have a look, Miss!" I peered over the shoulders of two of the boys, and felt 
my eyes open wider. No wonder they were huddled together! Suzanne was 
enjoying herself immensely, keeping all eight boys on the boil with a touch 
here, a caress there. So far, I noted with relief, she had not yet liberated 
any of the boys from their skimpy underwear, but the way things were 
looking, it wasn't going to be long.

On the other hand, one or two things were surprisingly long.

"Suzanne!" I forced myself to concentrate on disciplinary matters. "Where's 
Pansy?"

Suzanne reddened. "Dunno, Miss."

"And at what time are you due on duty in the First Form Sexual Chemistry 
Group Anoint-a-Mum Tent?"

"Twelve, Miss. Same time as the boys are due to relieve Miss Meadowlark's 
breast carriers, Miss."

These boys were pretty obviously going to be in need of relief themselves 
before then. "You'd better all come over here with me," I said, and the 
Team looked at each other, then down at Suzanne, who shrugged her 
shoulders. The movement had an interesting effect on her breasts, I 
noticed. When I start noticing things like that, it usually means I am 
getting horny. "Don't break up your circle, just shuffle over that way." And 
I set them moving with a gentle shove in the right direction, with Suzanne 
in the middle. "Never mind looking over your shoulders," I told the boys 
furthest from me, "Suzanne, look out in front and keep an eye on where 
we're going."

Suzanne obediently parted the two leading boys by the simple expedient 
of grasping their erect penes and moving their owners apart by a few 
inches, so she could see where we were going. Off we went, through the 
crowds, attracting a certain amount of attention, I must admit, but 
eventually we reached the sanctuary of the bra measuring facility, where 
the crowd was thinnest, and once we had rounded the far corner of the 
building and passed into the shadow of the trees, we were free from 
inquisitve eyes.

In fact, here, there were no recognisable guests at all, and I could see no 
more than a dozen or so couples mating in the bosky woodland, plunging 
and thrusting in the dappled shade. More slowly, I guided the eight boys 
and Suzanne to a reasonably free area, just as a couple completed their 
coitus and scrambled to their feet.

I recognised a Lower Sixth Form girl with staggeringly huge breasts and a 
man in a rumpled and grass-stained suit. Lovingly, the girl brushed leaves 
and dirt from her recent partner's jacket. Much as one wished to encourage 
private enterprise, this sort of freelance fucking was draining away the 
profits of the Mini-Brothel. I spoke more sharply than necessary to the 
girl.

"Have you quite finished?"

"Yes, Miss. This is Mr ...?"

"Jones," said the suit hastily. "Mr Jones."

"Miss Gruntworthy, may I introduce Mr Jones? Mr Jones, Miss ..."

"Thank you, Jayne-Lee, that will not be necessary. Mr Jones." I inclined my 
head politely and the couple moved off, Mr Jones uncomfortably offering 
the girl his arm. "Right, quick, boys. We've got ten minutes ...!"

We didn't do too badly. With Suzanne's valuable help, I managed to 
encourage all eight boys into a more or less lasting state of detumescence 
before it was time for them and Suzanne to hurry off to their duties. I 
wiped my hands on the cool grass and sat down on a tussock, panting 
slightly.

That had done me no good at all. At least, I now knew the more intimate 
biological details of Team B, for what it was worth, but I was feeling as 
horny as a she-goat. What I really needed, sitting here on a tuft of grass in 
a cool and shady glade, was a knight on a white charger to come along and 
sweep me on to his saddle and gallop off with me into the sunset. But this 
was St Catherine's High School for Girls.

There were no knights here.

"Shan, is that you?"

"Sir Roger, what a surprise!"





Part XXX-a





	NOTICE TO ALL GIRLS


	St Cat's Grand Open Day 

	Dress - General
	All girls are to note carefully the following dress regulations 
	for the above event. School uniform is to be worn by all students. 
	There will be NO relaxation of the Rules regarding effective 
	brassieres. Underwear is to be worn. Panties in the correct personal 
	colours will be issued by Ms Rumiko Tsujimoto on the evening before 
	the event, and for emergencies only, on the morning of the event for 
	one hour only from 0800.

	Neckties
	Summer Rules will apply regarding the wearing of neckties. These 
may 
	be removed from 1100 onwards, and the top button of the blouse 
shall 
	then be unfastened. Further buttons may be unfastened, one at a 
time, 
	at hourly intervals, until the blouse is completely open at the 
	front. Then and only then may the blouse be removed entirely. This 
	rule does NOT apply to girls whose blouses have more than twenty 
	buttons at regulation three inch intervals. These girls may release 
	buttons in groups of two or three as authorised by teaching staff.

	Skirt Length
	Skirts are to be of regulation length. The hemline shall be no 
	greater than four inches (105mm) nor less than two inches (52mm) 
	below the juncture of the thighs. The juncture of the thighs will be 
	measured while wearing regulation panties, pulled up tightly so as 
	fully to compress any dangling labia. Girls with exuberantly 
	pendulous labia are advised that they must keep their panties pulled 
	up tightly at all times. Girls designated by the nursing staff as 
	having problem labia and/or excessive hirsutism may wear their 
skirts 
	longer as required, but under no circumstances are hemlines to reach 
	below the knee.

	Sanitary Protection
	Girls scheduled to be wearing sanitary protection on St Cat's Grand 
	Open Day must see Nurse on the day before the event for Decency 
	Appraisal. Pieces of string shall not be allowed to dangle visibly, 
	as these cause offence to many males.

	Pregnant Students
	Pregnant students will observe the normal school Rules as amended 
	for pregnant girls, but the normal rules of good taste must always be 
	observed above all. Display of the unclothed belly beyond the 
twenty-
	ninth week is NOT permitted in public. Pregnant girls who wish to 
	mate should use the area specially designated for this purpose to 
	avoid giving offence.

	Lactation
	It is the responsibility of lactating girls to dispose of their girl-
	milk in a hygienic and decorous manner as befits young ladies. 
	Feeding guests without a proper introduction will NOT be permitted. 
	Spraying guests with girl-milk is discouraged. (St Cat's Girls are 
	NOT racing motorists.) Breast-feeding of babies may be carried out 
	publicly and with pride, but orgasms during feeding shall be enjoyed 
	in complete and ladylike silence.

	Lactation - Special Note
	Once formally introduced, guests may use lactating girls free of 
	charge during the day. Any girl seen charging money for girl-milk 
	will face serious disciplinary action.

	Mini-Brothel
	Mini-Brothel girl staff have already been selected and advised of 
	their duties, shifts and rest periods. Whilst they will be permitted 
	to remove their lower underwear while on Mini-Brothel premises, it 
	must be replaced before leaving the marquee. The roped off area 
	outside the marquee entrance shall denote the marquee boundary 
for 
	the purposes of this regulation.

	Courtesy
	All girls are to be courteous to guests of the Mini-Brothel. Guests 
	will neither be referred to nor addressed as 'customers' nor 'punters'.

	Madam - Form of Address
	Mini-Brothel administration will be the full responsibility of Ms 
	Tessa (Toots) Lashmore, who is to be addressed (for the day of the 
	event ONLY) as 'Madam'. Ms Lashmore will NOT be bound by St Cat's 
	Dress Rules as she is still only ten years old.

	Guests
	Guests may be escorted freely throughout school premises by 
students. 
	Discretion should be exercised when entering dormitories as these 
are 
	likely to be in use for sexual intercourse. Guests and escorts may 
	enter, but should avert the eyes in the presence of mating couples, 
	and should attempt to find an unused bed or area of floor space. 
	Additional overflow mating areas will be provided if demand 
dictates; 
	please observe the signs, and vacate areas as soon as both parties 
	have climaxed for the final time.

	Entertainment.
	Various entertainments have been arranged, and will be announced 
over 
	the public address system. 

	Safety Warning
	Spectators at the wheelbarrow event are warned that wheelbarrow 
	racing is DANGEROUS. Spectators must stay off the track, and keep 
	away from the edges of the course. Young girls with huge breasts in 
	wheelbarrows need room to manoeuvre and cannot stop dead. Keep a 
	sharp lookout at all times, and listen for the screams of girls who 
	may have lost control either of their vehicles or themselves.

	Pregnant Girls' Obstacle Race
	The obstacle course for pregnant girls is out of bounds to guests 
	during the progress of racing. Between races, guests are welcome to 
	use the course, but in the event of heavy demand, pregnant female 
	guests will receive priority.

	Courtesy - General
	Students are reminded that courtesy must be extended to all guests. 
	Later in the day, when cleavage display has reached its maximum, 
	some guests may become unduly excited. They should be treated 
with 
	gentleness and firmness. Remember, older guests may take longer to 
	attain an orgasm than students are used to. Allow plenty of time for 
	coupling with middle-aged guests, and be prepared to compliment 
them 
	lavishly on their performance, even if they appear to have faked an 
	orgasm.

	Fertility Note
	Appearances can be deceptive. Always remember, a single drop of 
	semen contains sufficient sperm to impregnate an entire city. 
Middle-
	aged men do NOT suffer from low sperm-count as younger men and 
boys 
	do. Take a note of the names and phone numbers of ALL your sexual 
	partners during the day. Your guests will appreciate a thank-you call 
	at home or in the office.





Part XXXI





Chapter 91:- Ultimate Perfection


"How's business, Shona?"

"You're five minutes late."

"No I'm not. The clock hasn't struck yet." Suzanne held up a finger in 
triumph as the bell rang out the first of twelve strokes from the bell tower. 
"Your watch is fast," she said, gazing out of the doorway of the First Form 
Sexual Chemistry Group Anoint-a-Mum Tent at the St Cat's girls 
unfastening a second button of their blouses. Or a fifth or sixth, in the case 
of the larger girls.

Shona was gathering up her belongings and preparing to leave. "How's my 
skirt?" she asked Suzanne.

"Pull it up a bit more, Sho, I can't quite see your knickers. That's better," 
she said as Shona grunted and tugged her skirt into submission.

"What about my boobs? Should I show a bit more, do you think?"

"Only the next six buttons, you don't want to attract too much attention. 
There, that looks nice!" Suzanne arranged Shona's neckline to make sure 
that no more than two feet of drum-tight cleavage was showing. "This bra's 
just about full up, Sho. You should have got a new one last week. If this 
one bursts, you're going to flop all over the place in front of all these 
people. You will be in deepest shit."

"Suze! Don't say that. It will be all right, won't it? Even when the milk 
comes in?"

"You could always go down to the quad and start selling drinks. Nobody 
would mind."

"What, flash my boobs out there? I'd die. And my mum would kill me."

"She can't kill you once you're already dead. Go for it, girl! You've got the 
biggest titties in the school apart from Miss Meadowlark. Go and earn 
yourself some extra pocket money."

Shona was literally shivering in her shoes, her knees knocking and ripples 
spreading across her exposed bosom like waves on a pond. But her eyes 
were shining with excitement. She bit her lip in apprehension. Suzanne 
nodded her head encouragingly. "Who's been doing the rubbing?" she 
asked, to take Shona's mind off her coming ordeal.

"Sexy Amy. She was supposed to be on from ten 'til eleven, but she 
wouldn't come off, and she's just refused to be relieved again. She says 
she's enjoying it too much. Toria's in there with her right now."

"Toria? What's *she* want?"

"Dunno." Shona hesitated at the door. "I'd better go, then." She seemed to 
be in no hurry. "Wish me luck!"

"You'll do great, Sho! If I see your Mum, I'll tell her where to find you."

"Don't you dare ...!"

Suzanne ducked into the tent and pushed aside the flap into the rubbing 
room.

"At least you could knock, Suzanne," complained Victoria, sitting up 
abruptly on the table and clutching at a towel to cover herself.

"How can you knock on a door in a tent?" Suzanne giggled. "What are you 
hiding your boobs for, cousin Toria? We've all seen them before!"

"Go away!"

"I can't. I'm on duty now. It's twelve o' clock. Aren't you going off, Amy?"

"No, I'm staying. This is great! I've been getting to rub some lovely titties."

"What are we selling most of?" Suzanne studied the labels of the various 
tubs of chemicals.

"Straight boob, mostly," said Amy. "The mums have seen the tits on some 
of the girls and they all want a bit for themselves. But we've done a few 
FatLite. I've been recommending FatLite for some of the heavier women. 
That's right, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but it's important that you give them the cream for rubbing on 
when they get home. They can use anything, but plain face cream is best."

"I bet they've got plenty of that at home. We've had some plain enough 
faces in here this morning, haven't we, Tor?"

"One or two." Victoria was subdued. Suzanne bursting in and interrupting 
her session with Sexy Amy had been unnerving for her.

"I'll get back out the front," said Suzanne with a grin at her cousin. She 
unfastened her blouse buttons until her olive drab bra cups peeked out 
starkly from her cleavage. "See you two later!"

Sexy Amy watched her leave. "Come on, Toria, back on the table." Amy 
dipped her hand into a tub of cream. "Come on, we were just getting 
started!"

"I can't. She'll hear us."

"We'll do it quietly. Do you want rubbing or not?"

Victoria blushed and chewed her lip. "Course I do!" she hesitated, then 
dropped the towel and lay back on the treatment table.

"Hold tight, sweetie, here we go!"


**********

"Are you sure about this, Sir Roger?" I was hesitating before undoing the 
buttons at the back of my dress.

"Chauntaille, my dear." The gentle knight was struggling with the belt of 
his trousers, although his fumbling fingers would hardly do what he 
wanted. I always think there's nothing worse than watching somebody 
scratching around with something like that, and failing. In the end, I could 
watch no longer. I reached across and yanked his belt undone in a single 
movement, following it up by whipping his zipper down. 

Sir Roger gasped at my directness. "Oh, Chauntaille. I have admired you for 
so long. I have always wanted to make you mine. Your breasts are the 
dangliest I have ever seen in my life. I have had a long life, and a fruitful 
one, but never have I seen breasts as long and dangly as yours."

I wasn't sure what to think about that, but I assumed he meant it as a 
sincere compliment. Sir Roger was a gentleman, after all.

"Where's Clarrie?" I asked, delaying frantically.

"Off with Davie somewhere. She doesn't do it with me any more. Now she's 
pregnant, and being so big anyway, it's rather awkward for her. She says 
she can do it with Davie, because he's slimmer than me. Longer, too, 
apparently; the little brat. Still, you will know that length isn't important, 
won't you, my dear?"

"That's very true, Sir Roger. But are you sure you want to go through with 
this? What about Grandma Trudy?"

"What about her , Chauntaille? She doesn't need me any more. I've done 
far too much running around impregnating all the girls I could lay hands 
on. Clarrie's only the latest in a very long succession. Trudy's been very 
understanding, but we don't really have a sex-life any more. Chauntaille! 
Let me undress you. Please!"

What the hell, I thought. After helping Team B reach fruition, I was just 
about steaming down there. Old Sir Roger would be as good a means to an 
end as any. I made my decision, practically ripped my dress off and 
followed it by tearing apart the velcro fasteners on my ScatBra FreeTips. 
Sir Roger's eyes almost came out on stalks as he saw my nipples ballooning 
out through the cut outs in the ends of the huge brownish-yellow bra cups. 
Then the bra was gone, and my breasts swung like church bells around my 
lower thighs.

"Oh, Chauntaille!"

"Oooh, Sir Roger!"


**********

"There, isn't that nice, Toria?"

"Oooh, yes. Amy, you have the loveliest hands."

"See, and all this time, you always kept on saying you didn't like the idea 
of girls rubbing your boobs! There you are, you didn't know what you 
were missing, did you? Roll over a bit this way, and I'll finish you off 
underneath."

"Is this going to work, this stuff?"

"Work? By this time tomorrow night, you'll start growing. By the weekend, 
you'll be huge."

"Huge? You mean bigger than Pansy?"

"Even bigger than Pansy's going to be when she's feeding her new baby. 
Bigger than Anastasia. Well, bigger than Anastasia is at the moment. As big 
as Miss Gruntworthy!"

"Shit, Ames. I don't know if I want to be as big as that!"

"You should have thought of that before." Amy patted Victoria's boobs, 
setting them wobbling. "It's done now."

"You mean I can't NOT get huge?"

"Right. You have to rub in the plain cream tonight and tomorrow."

"What if I don't," asked Victoria eagerly.

"You'd better! If you don't you will get such Uncontrollable Horniness that 
you won't be able to stop coming. Until you rub the plain cream in, you will 
suffer from that. As soon as you rub it in, the Uncontrollable Horniness will 
go away and your boobs will start getting huge! Simple!"

"So I can avoid having giant boobs if I decide to live with the 
Uncontrollable Horniness instead?"

"Toria. Don't even think about it!"

"Coo-ee! You finished in there?" Suzanne called through the tent flap.

"What you want?" Amy shouted.

"We've got a customer. Breast enhancement. Straight, not FatLite!"

"You all ready, Toria?"

"Just this last button. There!"

"Send her in," said Sexy Amy. "We're ready."

The flap opened and the customer came in.

Sexy Amy was picking up another tub of the Original Recipe. "You going to 
help me, Toria? We'll do one side each at the same time, all right?" She 
prised the lid off the cream tub.

"If madam would like to remove her shirt and bra and get up on the table 
...?" Sexy Amy looked up at the customer for the first time. "Mummy! Oh, 
shit!"


**********

The old bugger wasn't all that bad. He knew what he was doing, I had to 
admit. I lay on my back, knees raised, and clapped my breasts on each side 
of Sir Roger's head. His thrusts were slow, without being at all tentative. I 
allowed my internal muscles to grip and relax, almost milking him. Sir 
Roger gave another moan. "Oooh, Chauntaille, darling!" Unoriginal, but not 
entirely lacking in sincerity.

"Sir Roger," I said, "Oh my!"

He paused in his thrusting. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"Who, me?"

"Who else is there here?"

"I said, 'Sir Roger, oh, my!'"

"That's what I thought you said. Trudy always said that. In bed."

"Trudy called you Sir Roger? In bed?"

"No, not that bit. She said, 'oh my!'

"Oh, Sir Roger, I'm so sorry!"

"No, don't be. It just took me aback a little, that's all. I'm all right now." To 
prove it, he started his stately movement again. "My God, Chauntaille, you 
are so wet and so huge, and yet your muscular control is such that it is like 
making love to a young girl ..."

"I am a young girl, Sir Roger," I reminded him with one of my extra special 
pussy squeezes.

"Oooh! Yes, you are, my dear. One forgets these things."

Sir Roger may have been on the verge of losing his faculties, but he was 
still a talkative fucker, in the literal sense.

I allowed my breasts to close together over Sir Roger's ears and his voice 
became more muffled as his whole head was engulfed in the warm 
magnificence of my bosom. Vastly pendulous breasts have their uses.

Still, grunts reached my ears, urgent little stabbing cries. He's getting close, 
I thought, and redoubled my efforts. I was getting there as well. "Ooh, Sir 
Roger!" I said, more or less en passant, and began to hump my buttocks on 
the springy turf of the woodland. If at that precise moment I had chanced 
to look around me I would have been able to see at least half a dozen 
couples mating within twenty yards of our position. Some of the girls 
would have been on top, some on their backs, giving their all for the 
honour of St Catherine's High School for Girls. 

Another muffled grunt, and I released the inward pressure on my boobs. I 
didn't want to suffocate the old boy.

"Oh, Chauntaille, my dear," announced Sir Roger, as if he'd never been 
away. "You are such ... perfection. You are without a ... shadow of a doubt, 
the finest ... fuck I have ever experienced. If I was to die now, I would go 
... to my ... grave in the ... knowledge that I had ... achieved ... the ... 
ultimate ... perfection!"

He's nearly there! I thrust back at him and he thrust back at me. I slapped 
my breasts together over Sir Roger's head again and went for the big 
finish.

"Oh, you bastard!" I howled, "don't fucking stop now!" And I bucked more 
furiously, reaching the edge, the very brink. More, give me another five 
seconds, Pym, you bourgeois pseudo-aristocratic jumped-up bastard, give 
it to me, fuck you! "Aaargh! Aaargh! Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrgh! Wow! Wow! 
Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woweeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

Polite applause echoed round the woodland glade. I was reminded of a 
cricket match on the village green.

The old bugger knew what he was doing all right. That was some 
performance for an old 'un. Well done, Sir Roger! 

"Oooh, Sir Roger! That was wonderful!" I released the grip on my boobies 
and Sir Roger's exhausted head flopped on to my chest. "Sir Roger? How 
was it for you?"

He obviously only spoke while he was actually doing it. He'd certainly shut 
up now. I could feel him inside me, surprisingly big still, considering he 
had almost blown it a couple of minutes ago. I lay back, recovering my 
breath, and affectionately ruffled the hairs at the back of Sir Roger's neck. 
Perhaps I should have taken advantage of the old boy's offer all those 
months ago.

Still, there was always next time.

Wasn't there?

A ghastly, chilling thought had suddenly occurred to me. Sir Roger's head 
flopped on to its other side. And as I touched his cheek, the terrible truth 
became clear.

I sat up, with a struggle, shuffling my bottom backwards on the cool grass. 
Sir Roger, the late Sir Roger Pym, slipped out of me. As a shudder ran 
through my body, I realised the significance of his last words. He had, at 
least, experienced the ultimate perfection.

And he'd hung on long enough to satisfy Big Chauntaille Gruntworthy.





Chapter 92:- Back In The Saddle


Smegs always knows what to do.

So does Corinne.

The trouble was, I couldn't find either of them.

Corinne wasn't where I had left her. Not that she would be, of course. Not 
still talking to Tanya after something like an hour. Not in the heat of the 
midday sun. Someone told me they had seen her setting off with her team 
of boys at something like five past twelve. That would have been her B 
Team, fresh from their mass wanking session, invigorated and reporting on 
schedule to relieve the disgraced A Team. They had gone up the drive 
towards the main road, I was told. S had obviously taken the Team for a 
work-out.

Smegs wasn't at the wheelbarrow racing, the pregnant girls' obstacle 
course, the police dog demonstration, the ex-Printing Works Brass Band 
Concert, the Mini-Brothel and the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group 
Anoint-a-Mum Tent. All this searching had taken me a good quarter of an 
hour since I had left Sir Roger's body in the woods. I had done my best to 
make him comfortable, closing his eyes and his mouth, and laying him on 
his back. My first idea was to lay him on his front, but he still had an 
erection, and presumably it wasn't going to go down at this late stage in his 
career. I didn't like to bend it, so on his back it had to be.

The next step was to summon help from the nearest mating couple. 
Surprisingly, they were less than ten yards away, on the other side of a fat 
tree trunk. The boy was on top: I didn't recognise him, but I assumed he 
was someone's son. He was indignant at being interrupted, but the girl, an 
absurdly pretty Fourth Former, seemed glad of a break. "Come on, Keanu," 
she had nagged him. "Let's see what Miss Gruntworthy wants."

They were both a little less keen when I showed them Sir Roger's supine 
corpse. "He's dead, Miss!" the girl informed me, quite astutely, I thought.

"I know he's dead. He died on the job. Look after him while I go and get 
help. If you're going to carry on shagging, at least cover his face as a mark 
of respect."

The girl gravely deployed her knickers over Sir Roger's face and prepared 
to resume giving her all.

I suppose it was delayed shock. Up until the time I left Sir Roger under 
guard, I was coping reasonably well with the situation. By the time I 
reached the spot where Corinne no longer was, I was beginning to get 
panicky; and by the time I had tried everywhere that Smegs might have 
been but wasn't, I was in tears.

Tanya found me, crying my eyes out behind the Mini-Brothel.

"Shan? What's the matter?" She put her arms around me and gave me a 
big soft hug.

"Tan! It's terrible. He's in the woods."

"What's wrong? Who's in the woods? Have you been molested? Actually, I 
was looking for my Grandad. Sir Roger? You haven't seen him? Only he's 
ten minutes late for his appointment in the Mini-Brothel, and that little 
black kid - the madam - she was wondering whether to let his girl go to 
the next customer."

She was about to carry on for the next ten minutes, but I jumped up and 
dragged her off without a word into the woods. It was cooler in there, 
under the trees, and so peaceful.

"Here. Just here!" I led Tanya to the spot and stopped. "It was here, I know 
it. I remember that tree stump with the fungus."

"What was here? Shan. Look at me." Tanya grasped my upper arms and 
shook me gently. "Shan?"

"Sir Roger was here. I was ... with him. We were, you know?"

"Fucking?"

"That's right. Just here. I'd just helped Suzanne with wanking Corinne's B 
Team ..." Tanya's eyes widened to about the size of large saucers "... and I 
was sitting on that tussock over there, wiping my hands, and Sir Roger 
came along, and ... one thing sort of ... led to another ..."

"... the way they do ..."

"...the way they do, and we made love. Only ... when I'd finished - and I 
only just managed to finish - he was dead."

"Dead?"

"Mm-hm."

"Jesus, Shan!" Tanya looked about the clearing. "So what did you do with 
him?"

"I left him here. Just here. He was heavy, and stiff. Very stiff, part of him 
was."

"Gosh!"

"And I found a couple to look after him. They've gone, too."

Someone was coming through the undergrowth. "Is this your couple, 
Shan?" Tanya pointed.

"That's them. What have they done with him?"

"Hi, Miss," the girl called, cheerfully. They approached and stopped, the boy 
staying about five yards away. "We took your man away. He was putting 
us off. Well, not me - I was all right - but Keanu said he couldn't keep it up 
with him lying there. He's in Mr Jeremy's shed."

"But that's ... right over there ... hundreds of yards away."

"Yeah, we got another couple to help us carry him. Nobody saw us. He's all 
right, Miss. He's still dead."

"That's a relief," said Tanya. "Come on, Shan!" She thanked the loving 
couple and we headed for the shed which was just visible through the 
trees. Jeremy opened the door when we knocked.

"Shan! And Tanya!" He opened the door wider for us to go in. "Look who's 
here. It's Sir Roger. Some kids brought him in." He had covered the body 
with a dust sheet. Unfortunately, it stuck up like a tent in the middle. "He's 
got a hard-on for some reason. Looks like he died happy."

"Oh, yes," I said fervently. "He certainly did!"


**********

The show must go on. In the finest traditions of the stage, St Cat's rose to 
the occasion. Corinne returned from her test run with her B Team. All nine 
of them were covered in dead leaves and traces of mud. Corinne told me 
later they had gone off the road in a big way. Apparently, the Team were 
preoccupied and not at all responsive to orders.

She immediately closed the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group Anoint-a-
Mum Tent and set up a crisis headquarters. Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen 
had a word with the Art girls and within minutes a huge orange and black 
sign saying 'Chrisus Headqarters' appeared. Corinne had to send it away to 
get the spelling corrected. Somebody found Grandma Trudy and brought 
her to the tent. They gave her a cup of hot sweet tea which she firmly 
refused. We had to break it to her that the only tea we had was hot. We 
simply didn't have it with ice. Then we broke the other bad news.

"He died with a hard-on, you say? Figures. You got a spare girl I can 
borrow, Shan?"

Someone found a Second Former. Trudy gave her a set of car keys. "Go to 
my four-by-four, hon, look in the back seat. There's a black dress on a 
hanger. Bring it here, will you. Don't get it creased, you hear!" The girl went 
off, and Trudy continued. "I've been carrying that black dress around these 
past two years in case the old fool shuffled off this mortal coil while we 
were out visiting. At least, he died happy. And he was among friends, 
Shan. I daresay he couldn'a been in better hands."

"He did say, Trudy ... in fact, these were his last words ... that if he died at 
that moment, he had at least experienced the ultimate perfection."

"He told you that, Shan?"

I nodded, tears streaming down my face.

Trudy gave me a lace hankie. "He told Clarrie the same, she says. He used 
to tell *me* that, until we stopped doing it. I guess he always knew - deep 
down inside - that when he finally went, he was going to go while he was 
doing what comes naturally. So he said the same thing every time, just in 
case."

The police were summoned, and Trudy was asked to make a formal 
identification of the body. She didn't even raise the dust sheet. "That's Sir 
Roger," she said, with a glance at its erection.

Meanwhile, as the afternoon wore on, the usual amusements continued. As 
a mark of respect for the deceased, the Mini-Brothel remained open for 
business. "It's what he would've wanted," said Trudy. The wheelbarrow 
racing and the obstacle course for pregnant girls went ahead as planned. 
The ex-Printing Works Brass Band changed their programme, I was told, 
taking out some of the more jolly numbers. They could have fooled me. As 
far as I could tell, everything they played sounded identical.

Clarrie turned up from somewhere with young Davie. The servant girl shed 
a tear for her lost master, then asked Trudy if she knew anything about 
the will.

Things were pretty much normal for an afternoon at St Catherine's High 
School for Girls.


**********

"Bloody cheek! They chucked us out of our tent." Suzanne was so indignant, 
she was even reduced to talking to Pansy again. A bunch of wheelbarrows 
wobbled past, their drivers panting and cursing. The crowds cheered, 
urging on their favourites.

"What for? Weren't we making enough money?

"They wanted it for a crisis headquarters."

"What crisis?" demanded Pansy.

Shona appeared. There were enormous patches of dampness round each 
nipple. "That's better," she said, sounding relieved. "I just got rid of another 
gallon. Hey, you know our tent? There was a policeman in there. And a 
woman policeman. And two detectives. One old and the other ancient, just 
like on telly."

"So what?" grumbled Suzanne.

"They reckon old Sir Roger's dead!"

"I didn't know he was still alive."

"He isn't now. He's in Jeremy's shed with a hard-on, only they've covered 
him with a sheet. But that's not the best thing. They said Miss Gruntworthy 
killed him!"

Shona was gratified by the response. Suzanne and Pansy gasped in unison. 
"Killed him?"

"That's murder!" said Pansy.

"How did she do it? Did she shoot him?" Suzanne had a thirst for macabre 
detail.

"She fucked him to death," Shona announced.

Pansy knew how it was done. "You mean she sat on his face and squashed 
his head?"

"I don't think so," said Shona. "It doesn't sound like the sort of thing Miss 
Gruntworthy would do."

"Still no reason to throw us out of our tent." Suzanne had an honest 
grievance and was determined to make the most of it. 

"Anyway, Pan." Shona had remembered something. "What was your sister 
doing in there for an hour with Sexy Amy? I reckon she was getting her 
boobs made bigger."

"Who, Toria?" Pansy laughed out loud. "She'd never do that. She's all talk. 
Toria would be too scared to have her boobs made bigger."

Suzanne giggled. "I bet she'd do it to get even with Miss Gruntworthy."

Pansy gave a gasp. "Will Miss Gruntworthy have to go to jail?"

"Yeah, I s'pose so," said Shona. "Oh, shit, look at all the milk on this blouse. 
If my mum was here, she'd kill me."


**********

"Let me in, I want to see my friend!"

"Sorry, Miss, you can't come in 'ere, there is ay Po-lice hinvestigation a-
taking place ..."

"I'll give you five seconds to move your arse, Plod, then I'm coming in!"

"Smegs!"

"Shan!"

We met and hugged for a long, long time.

"Are you all right, love?"

"I think so. Everyone's been very kind. Corinne and Trudy and Clarrie, 
everybody!"

"I'm sorry I took so long. I was tied up, and nobody told me about ... Sir 
Roger!"

"It's all right. You're here now."

I suppose we shouldn't really have snogged right there in front of the 
police and everything, but they were very good about it, even clearing a 
space on the floor when Smegs tenderly laid me down and serviced my 
foaming beaver. After about ten minutes, we sat up and apologised.

Even the Detective Inspector wasn't too hard on Smegs, although he said he 
could easily have come down on her like a ton of bricks for tampering with 
the evidence. I suppose that's the sort of thing that passes for a joke in 
police circles. Appalling taste, these people have.

Not that I've tasted too many of them.


**********

"Where were you, anyway, Smegs, while all this was going on?" I asked her 
when the Law had gone and we at last had a quiet moment.

"Like I said. I was tied up." She showed me the rope marks on her wrists 
and ankles. "I was getting off with one of the dads, Sexy Amy's, in fact. I 
just happened to mention that his daughter was just about the hottest 
piece of arse in the Third Form - if not the entire school - and that I 
wondered whether she inherited it from her mother or her father, and he 
dragged me off through the bushes to his car.

"Golly, Smegs, how awful! Did you scream for help?"

"Not straight away, but when he'd stuffed the gag in my mouth, I had a 
real yell. Nobody seemed to hear me. Then he tied me up."

"Did he rape you?"

"Not really, I suppose. He got his trousers down round his ankles then went 
all limp and floppy. He was staring off up the driveway at something, and 
suddenly, up came Sexy Amy's Mum, dragging Amy along by her ear, and 
she put her in the car, then she started on him. She dumped him in the car 
as well, then jumped in and drove off."

"She didn't untie you first?"

"No!"

"Oh, Smegs, how terribly frustrating for you! How did you get free?"

"A couple of the lads from Lord Ted's Sixth Form came along and found me, 
and turned me loose."

"Awful! And you were tied up all that time!"

Smegs looked uncomfortable. "Well, not exactly. I was only tied up for 
about a minute after the Sexy Amies went off, then the boys came along. 
We sort of sat around snogging and talking for the next hour or so. Then 
they said an old boy had died on the job, and one of them mentioned that 
he'd been shagging a St Cat's teacher at the time. I thought of you straight 
away, Shan!"

"Oh, Smegs. Thank you!"

There was a shuffle of feet and Corinne came over, preceded by her B 
Team.

"How are you now, Shannie?"

"Much better, thanks."

"I've been thinking. Before I got too huge, I used to ride a horse." Smegs 
and I both looked at Corinne, trying to imagine such a ridiculous thing. 
"And my instructor used to say that if ever I fell off, the only thing to do 
was to get right back on his back again. 'Straight back in the saddle, young 
Corinne,' he used to say. I think you ought to do that, too."

"I can't ride a horse, Cee, not with these things."

"No. You know what I mean. You've got to get back in the saddle with a 
man. Get another stallion between those thighs, straight away!"

"Golly, Cee, what a graphic image you do paint!"

"Megan," Corinne said, "where can we get Shan laid this afternoon? 
Urgently?"

Smegs thought for a moment, mentally ticking off names in her extensive 
database.

"Why not the Mini-Brothel?" she suggested. "Complete anonymity. At least, 
a clinical arrangement, no ties, no complications, just a straight screw with 
somebody's daddy."

"What do you think, Shannie?"

"I suppose so. There must be worse ways of earning a living."





Chapter 93:- Having Sex


"I wonder why they wanted us three in the Mini-Brothel, Pan? We're a bit 
young!"

"It must be a special job," said Pansy. "Miss Meadowlark must have 
thought it was so special I was the only one who could do it."

Suzanne snorted. "I bet it was Miss Gruntworthy's idea. That's why she 
asked for Anastasia. You know how much Miss Gruntworthy fancies 
Anastasia!" 

"Does she?" asked Anastasia with interest. The thought had never occurred 
to her before. She blushed prettily. "Golly!"

"Why else would they want us to dress up in these harem outfits. It must 
be something to do with sex."

Toots slunk in, her dress squeaking faintly and smelling of rubber. "Have 
you tree not dressed yet? C'mon, girls, I got customers waitin' outside and 
right roun' de block!"

"Sorry, Toots," murmured Suzanne.

"Madam to you, please!"

"Yes, Madam!"

"Wow!" said Anastasia, as soon as Toots had gone. "She's a real slave driver, 
that one. Let's get dressed quick." She grabbed a pair of the voluminous 
pants and slid one leg into them. "Gosh, these are really smooth and 
slippery inside. And cool." She pulled them up to the waist and took a few 
paces up and down. Pass me that top, Pan."

It was way too small. Anastasia tried, but failed. "Is this the biggest?"

"No, mine's the biggest." Suzanne puffed out her chest.

"Take it off, then, and try this one. I'll try yours."

Suzanne was unhappy, but she took her top off and handed it to Anastasia. 

"That's better. Not much, but at least we're both decent." Anastasia cupped 
her breasts through the sheer translucent material. "Gosh, don't we all look 
RUDE!" Without thinking, she slipped her hand down the front of her pants.

"You don't need to put your hand down there," Suzanne pointed out. 
"There's a hole in the crotch!"

"Where?" Pansy wanted to know if hers had one as well. "Oooh, wow, so 
there is!"

"Oi, stop it, you three!" Toots had come in again and caught them all at it. 
"If I catch you playin' wid yourselves again, you're in trouble, right?" The 
three First Formers blushed and hung their heads. "Now, you arl ready? 
You got to get Miss Gruntworthy all nicely warmed up ready for her 
gennelman. You got ..." she consulted her watch "... you got twenty minutes. 
I'll sen' her in right away!"

"Has she gone this time?" Suzanne tiptoed to the bead curtain and peered 
through. "She only said we mustn't play with ourselves. She didn't say 
anything about playing with each other! Stay there, Staze, just spread your 
legs. Like that, yessss!"

"Ooooh, Suzanne! Pansy, come over here where I can reach you."

"Aaaargh! Staze. Wow! Closer, Suze. Let's all get down on the floor. That's it. 
Mmm!"

"Mmmmmmmmmmm!"

"Oooooooooooh, yes!"


**********

"Go on in, then Shannie, don't put off the evil moment." Corinne would have 
given me a shove from behind, but her eight boys were in front of her, and 
in her way.

Smegs took my arm and urged me forward gently. "In you go. Get it over 
with."

"You both make it sound as if I shan't be enjoying it. It's only sex, for 
crying out loud."

"Be brave, Shan. Tough it out. It will make it easier in the long run."

"Try to see it through to the end, but if it gets too unbearable, make an 
excuse and leave."

"I'll try. For the honour of St Cat's. Wish me luck!"

"Break a leg, Shannie!"

"You'll slay 'em," Smegs encouraged, possibly not quite realising what she'd 
said.

With a bold gesture, I went in the main door of the Mini-Brothel, swept 
aside the bead curtain and entered the inner chamber. It was quite dim 
inside, and it took a while before I could see clearly. It took a little longer 
still before I could believe what my eyes were seeing.

Anastasia was lying on her back, with Suzanne's face buried in her pussy. 
Pansy had Suzanne's legs over her shoulders and her face in her cousin's 
crotch. At the same time, she had lowered herself so she was perched on 
Anastasia's face. Such hands as the girls weren't using to balance 
themselves were groping and fondling the nearest luscious breast they 
could find. There was a sound of concerted sucking, lapping and 
squelching, and all three girls were moaning constantly.

I hadn't the heart to interrupt. I just stood and watched until Anastasia's 
moans began to rise in pitch and urgency, and her orgasm triggered off the 
other two. After a pretty arousing three or four minutes, they all collapsed 
in a sweating heap on the carpet. The tent smelled like a whorehouse, 
which was reasonable enough, all things considered.

"Good afternoon, girls," I said. "That looked like good fun."

"Good afternoon, Miss Gruntworthy," the girls chanted in unison, struggling 
into an upright position. They sat in a row on a couch, facing me, flushed 
and panting, their eyes bright, their nipples erect, touching themselves 
intimately with trembling fingers.

"I believe you are going to get me ready for my guest?"

"Yes, Miss," said Anastasia, as spokesperson. "If you could give us a couple 
of minutes to recover."

"Of course," I said. "I'll just take my dress off, to save time." I was getting 
quite good at undoing the buttons down the back, then I dropped the dress 
to the floor at my feet and picked it up. There was a wardrobe in the 
corner. Toots seemed to have thought of everything.

"We'll do your bra, Miss," said Pansy. She got up off the couch and dragged 
Suzanne to her feet. Suzanne seemed exhausted, she had obviously given 
her all. I felt the velcro part as Pansy ripped it free.

"Careful," Anastasia shouted a warning as my breasts plummeted down, 
still in the cups but no longer strictly under control. The cousins caught one 
each, but the weight nearly dragged them off their feet.

"Sorry, Miss," they both said together. "They're heavy!"

"I know! Take it off gently, they aren't going to fall any further."

They disentangled the bra cups from my tits. It can be difficult with these 
FreeTips things where you stick out of the ends, and the girls seemed 
unwilling to use the necessary force to push them back through the holes 
in the cups.

"We have to rub you with erotic oils now, Miss," Anastasia told me 
intriguingly. Perhaps she meant exotic oils. On the other hand, though, 
perhaps she didn't. Whatever she meant, she had a great big bottle of the 
stuff.

"How do you want me? Standing up or lying down?"

"Could you kneel down to start with, Miss, please?" Anastasia said 
seriously. "We'll do your top half."

"And your boobs, Miss," Suzanne elaborated. "Even though they're in your 
bottom half, we'll do them with your top." That was precisely the sort of 
information I didn't really need.

The cousins dragged my breasts out of the way with little cries of alarm 
and I knelt down.

"The oil is nice and warm, Miss," Anastasia shook the bottle. "It's been out 
in the sun."

It still felt cool and pleasant, and Anastasia's little hands were soft, pudgy 
and everywhere at once. She didn't have the technique of Sexy Amy, but 
she was certainly thorough. Generous, too. She poured a dollop of oil into 
the waiting palms of the two cousins, and they joined her, all three of them 
chattering away like hairdressers.

"This is the stuff they use on Miss Meadowlark's boob carriers, Miss," said 
Suzanne. "It really does great things for their muscles, Miss. But you know 
about their muscles, don't you?" She grinned and winked conspiratorially 
at me and I ignored her with my nose in the air.

"Lie on your back, Miss." Anastasia arranged the beanbags on the floor and 
patted them invitingly. "We'll do your boobies. Then we'll do your bottom 
half and you can put your pants on. There isn't a top to fit you, I've got the 
biggest and it's tight on me."

I didn't bother telling Anastasia that her breasts were so much higher than 
mine she needed a far bigger size than me. My udders would have flopped 
out of the bottom of any harem costume. I could have worn a size 32!

They anointed me, or everything of me they could see, then I rolled over 
and felt them applying oil to the backs of my thighs and buttocks. They 
were giggling among themselves. Finally, Pansy spoke, while the others 
gave little gasps and squeaks of horror. "Are you pregnant, too, Miss?"

"I beg your pardon? Pansy, I am NOT pregnant! I am putting on a little 
weight, that's all!"

A voice, I don't know which girl, sniggered, "a little!"

"You're getting gross, Miss," laughed Suzanne. "My belly is plump, and my 
hips are wide, but with me, it's just puppy fat. I'm same as my mum. She's 
not as fat as you."

"Suzanne! How dare you? All of you, show some respect, please. Have you 
finished rubbing?"

"Yes, Miss," Anastasia screwed the top back on to the bottle.

"Sure you don't want anything else rubbed on, Miss?" asked Suzanne. "We 
could find you something interesting. A bit of FatLite, or some 
Uncontrollable Horniness?" 

"Thank you, girls. You are most kind. Hand me my pants, please."

I got them on after a struggle, and stood there, pinging the elastic and 
feeling my breasts bouncing heavily against my thighs.

"There's a way in down there, Miss," Pansy informed me. Most considerate. 
She even showed me where her aperture was, placing one foot on the arm 
of the couch in an awfully lewd pose. "You can get your hand in there, 
Miss, if you dive in between your boobs."

"Thank you, Pansy. I will bear it in mind."

Toots had come in behind us. "You about ready, Miss Gruntworthy? Your 
gennelman is here if you all done wid de oil an' thing."

"She's ready, Toots," said Anastasia. "Send him in!" Did she think they were 
going to stay and watch? "It's all right, Miss, we'll finish you off with oil 
while your man's getting his clothes off ready to start. We won't get in the 
way."

How thoughtful. The girls had moved across the room and were whispering 
among themselves. It was infuriating not being able to hear what they 
were saying, but there was a lot of gesturing and waving of plump bare 
arms. Finally, they sent a spokesperson, Anastasia. 

"Which way up would you like to be, Miss, on top or underneath?"

"Neither, thank you. I reserve the right to do it which ever way up I 
fancy." Actually, I fancied doggie fashion, but Anastasia hadn't offered me 
that as one of her list of options.

"How about doggie fashion, Miss?" I saw the other two girls gasp and cover 
their mouths with shocked little hands. "Ah, yes. I thought so. Come on, 
then. Hands and knees, Miss!"

I should have thrown the little bitch out, but she was my next door 
neighbour, after all. I got down on hands and knees on the strategically-
placed pile of bean-bags. The two cousins darted forward just in time to 
pull my breasts out of the way so I didn't kneel on them. Then they 
disappeared again, behind me, taking Anastasia with them. Giggling had 
broken out.

"Hee-hee!"

"Fucking hell, Suze!"

"It's ginormous!"

"Miss?"

"Yes, Suzanne?"

"Will ours be this big when we're grown up? I've never seen one as big as 
yours. It's huge!"

"I would be lying if I said yes, Suzanne. My pussy is probably one of the 
biggest in the civilised world."

"Gosh, Miss!"

"Golly, Miss!"

"Wow! Look out. Here he comes. Look!"

The last word was followed by a couple of gasps from the other two. What 
had they seen this time? Was my lover - my partner, my client - hung like 
a stallion? I would find out soon enough. I felt a pair of strong hands on 
my hips, just at the point where my buttocks began to jut out in such an 
embarrassing manner. The hands of a practical man, a manual worker. 
Horny hands.

"Hello, Shan!"

"Jeremy?"

"No, don't turn round. Just relax, darling!"

They had arranged all this, my bestest friends. Getting Shan back in the 
saddle didn't involve getting her laid by the first punter to arrive at the 
Mini-Brothel looking for a screw. They had found the only boy I could 
seriously say I enjoyed fucking, and they had delivered him to the very 
portals of my loins.

I relaxed and he entered me, as they always say in women's romances. 
What they don't say in women's romances, at least, not the ones I've read, 
was that he slipped the first inch into me, then followed it up with the rest 
in three quite distinct stages. "Wow!" I commented. "Woo-woo-woo!"

"You're soaking wet, Shan!"

"My handmaidens have been preparing me. I must have become slightly 
aroused."

"You ought to keep those three around all the time, they've done a great 
job."

I heard giggles. Surely they weren't still here, watching us! An extra thrust 
from Jeremy made me put the matter to the back of my mind.

"Oof! Ouch, ooooh, gosh, golly golly! Typical of you, darling, if you don't 
mind my saying so. What about the foreplay, then? Oh, no! Straight in. You 
never even touched the sides!"

"I can't do that with many girls, Shan! There'll be plenty of time for 
foreplay after this first quickie."

"But they'll be wanting their brothel back. Toots will have guests lined up 
four deep outside ..."

Allow me to explain. This conversation was being conducted in grunts and 
gasps. I could try to include them as punctuation, but it would be tedious. 
Try, if you will, to imagine me on my knees getting heartily porked from 
behind.

"Toots has moved the whole operation down to my shed for the rest of the 
afternoon. She's a very flexible girl, is young Toots."

"Jeremy, you haven't ...? Surely not you and Toots?"

The only reply was an extra deep thrust.

"Woo-woo-woo-wow!"

"Shan, darling, I love it when you say that! It sounds so RUDE!"

I said nothing more for the next five minutes. Nothing printable, at least.

Jeremy rolled me gently on to my back and arranged my breasts where he 
wouldn't kneel on them. He is so considerate. Then our lips met, and our 
tongues, our mouths open wide like you see in the movies, and we kissed 
each other all over our faces, eyes, noses, ears, mouths again ...

"Miss!"

There are some things that always bring you back to earth with a shock.

"Would you like a drink, Miss? Keep your energy and fluid levels up."

"I'm not a car battery, Anastasia!"

"Mr Jeremy's having one, Miss. We asked him."

"Oh, all right, then. I'll have whatever he's having ... hang on a minute! 
When did you ask him?"

"While he was just finishing. I could see it was coming to en end, so I came 
over to take your orders."

Anastasia snapped her fingers at Suzanne, who was hovering by the bead 
curtain, and held up two fingers. Like a good and faithful servant, 
Anastasia stayed where she was, kneeling beside my head. In my state of 
heightened arousal and sensory awareness, I could smell her scent, a blend 
of musky womanishness and sharp perspiration.

"How was it for you, Miss?"

"Fine, thank you, Anastasia. The earth probably moved."

"Gosh! We've been watching, Miss. You're ever so good, considering you're 
grown-ups."

"Why, thank you, Anastasia!"

Jeremy was trying to stifle a giggle, and failing. "Did you hear them, Shan? 
They never stopped, all the way through."

"I could hear something, but I was busy. What were they saying?"

"Oh, nothing much! A bit of applause occasionally. Sort of a commentary. It 
reminded me of golf on television, more than anything else. Polite, 
restrained, but a knowledgeable audience."

"I'll give them knowledgeable! Applause! Little bastards. I'm their teacher, 
for fuck's sake!"

Anastasia looked embarrassed and put her hand over her mouth. "Oh, 
Miss." She sounded disappointed in me. She looked up anxiously for 
Suzanne and Pansy. "Where are those two. Sorry about this, Mr Jeremy, 
and you, Miss. They've only gone for a couple of drinks ..."

A chillingly familiar sound echoed from the next room of the marquee. We 
all glanced at each other, then looked away in embarrassment as the noise 
came again.

"Oh, yes! Yes, yes, yes,YES! Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-WOW!"

Someone, not far away, was getting it, and getting it good.

Anastasia's lips moved. "Pansy?" she said to herself. "Shall I go and stop 
them, Miss?"

"Better not, darling. It might do some damage if you stop them now."

"Oooh, wow! Oh, shit! Yes! Golly! Woo-woo-woo-Woweeeeeeeeeeee, DAVIE-
EEEEEEE!"

Davie?

"She sounds just like you, Shan," said Jeremy. "You've taught these girls 
well. The 'woo-woo-woo-wow' bit was perfect."

"I sound like THAT?"

"Woo-wooo-YES!"

"If I wasn't sitting here with my hand up to the wrist in your pussy, 
darling, I would have thought it was you out there getting a good seeing-
to. It's so convincing, I'm getting hard again already."

"Jeremy! Not in front of Anastasia! Oh, all right then. Just a quickie!"

"No, darling. You're right. Not here. Come back with me to my shed. We'll 
throw Toots and her brothel out. They can have their tent back."

"No, Jeremy, it would take too long."

"But where can we go. I want you. Now."

"I know where we can go!" I jumped to my feet, feeling his fingers slip 
from my pussy in a slight gush of fluids. Anastasia rolled clear just in time. 
And I dragged the poor boy out through the bead curtain, out into the 
main entrance to the Mini-Brothel marquee, out into the afternoon sunlight 
and the crowded quadrangle, out past the bra measuring facility and down 
to the temporary car park outside the caretaker's shed.

Like the good and faithful servant she was, Anastasia followed, carrying 
Jeremy's clothes. Before we even reached the Jaguar, she had the keys out 
of his pocket and darted ahead, her huge breasts swinging beneath her 
tight harem top, and unlocked the doors. She even closed the back door 
after we were safely inside.


**********

Anastasia, her duties discharged, made her way back through the curious 
crowds to the Mini-Brothel, where she found Pansy being serviced for the 
third time. Not that Anastasia knew it was the third time, at least, not until 
Suzanne told her.

"I've been keeping score," she told her glumly. "The first one was a bit 
quick, but this one's been going ten minutes and she hasn't even said 'woo-
woo-woo-woo-wow' yet."

The two girls studied Pansy's technique with professional interest. From 
the occasional glimpses of Davie's startled face, the poor boy was shell-
shocked. For a pregnant woman, Pansy was being almost irresponsibly 
vigorous. She was bouncing up and down at least nine inches at each 
stroke, her little bottom rebounding off Davie's stomach muscles, before 
being launched back into the air like a jack-in-the-box.

Fortunately, nine inches was not quite enough for her to become 
completely disengaged from Davie's juice-moist prong, or something could 
easily have been damaged. On their hands and knees, Suzanne and 
Anastasia peered at each other across Davie's tortured, sweating body. 
Each time Pansy bounced upwards again, the two girls grinned at each 
other.

"What are they doing, Staze?" Suzanne shouted.

"It's not fucking. And I think what Miss Gruntworthy and Mr Jeremy were 
doing was making love. This must be something else."

"Woo-woo-woo-woo..."

"There she goes! Sex? Is it sex, Staze?"

"Woo-woo-woo-woo-wow ...!"

"That could be it, Suze. Pansy's having sex. Funny though. It sounds just 
like she's making love."


**********

When you fall off a horse, as Smegs told me, you should get back in the 
saddle as soon as you can. When you are fucking a man and he dies on the 
job, something similar applies, although it is probably as well not to use 
the same man.

My two bestest friends looked after me after Sir Roger expired on top of 
me in the woods on the sunny afternoon of the St Cat's Grand Open Day. 
'Back in the saddle' meant I was back in action that same afternoon, in 
Toots's Mini-Brothel. And to show the attention to detail that Corinne and 
Smegs brought to everything they did, the partner they chose was Jeremy, 
my first love.

Those friends of mine even provided three young handmaidens to prepare 
me for my lover, with exotic oils and soft hands all over my body, which 
brought me to a state of such heightened readiness that it was a wonder 
that Jeremy didn't fall in and have to be thrown a lifebelt.

The handmaidens seemed to enjoy it, watching every move. So impressed 
were they that Pansy - reasoning that she could only get pregnant once - 
took unto herself a lover within minutes, giving Davie the ride of his life. 
He was later heard to murmur that never before had he experienced 
anything quite like it.

Not that Jeremy and I knew what anyone said afterwards. We climbed into 
the back seat of his Jaguar and made love with such total dedication that 
we were still in there four days later. It would have been longer, but on 
the fourth afternoon, when Corinne came by to pass bananas and isotonic 
drinks through the window, she refused to bring any more provisions until 
we had come out and taken a shower.

We did, under protest, sharing a bath in the staff domestic quarters. We 
did it on the bathroom floor beforehand, again in the bath, twice, and three 
times more while wrapped in huge fluffy bath towels in the corridor on 
the way from the bathroom to my bedroom.

"It's got to stop, Shannie," Corinne complained as Jeremy and I coupled 
frantically on the bed. "All this sex can't be good for you." But we took no 
notice, so she had her boys pick her breasts up and lead her from the 
room.

She ended up in Smegs's room, where Smegs was missing Sexy Amy who 
had been taken home by her parents after her mother had discovered her 
loving daughter working in what she quite unfairly described as a massage 
parlour. Unfairly because it was the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group 
Anoint-a-Mum tent, which Sexy Amy's mother had entered in the hope of 
getting a pair of breasts to match her daughter's.

Sexy Amy's mother didn't know what she'd missed, but she would have 
done if she had met Victoria the morning after she had been thoroughly 
creamed in that same tent with the same substance. I didn't see Victoria 
myself, even though she beat on the windows of the Jaguar trying to 
attract my attention, and hung around in the staff domestic area until 
Corinne was sick of the sight of her and sent her away.

Spend just four days fucking in the back of a car, and five and a half more 
days in bed with your lover, and you can miss so much. I even missed the 
inquest on Sir Roger, which was adjourned for a post mortem report. 

See what I mean? Life passes you by.





Epilogue





Chapter 94:- Lord Dismiss Us With Thy Blessing


(I suppose that chapter heading counts as blasphemy, to add to all my 
other manifold sins.)

Walking on wobbly bandy legs, I must have looked as if I had spent the 
last ten days literally in the saddle after my unfortunate experience in the 
woods with Sir Roger. The late Sir Roger. But I had to walk: it was the last 
day of term, the last day of the school year.

As the strains of what I assumed to be the St Cat's school song died away 
in the warm afternoon sunshine streaming through the windows of the 
school assembly hall, I felt tears prickle in my eyes. The staff was ranged 
on chairs on the platform, looking out over the faces of those wonderful 
girls. The tears prickled in my eyes because Jeremy, sitting behind me, had 
slipped his hand beneath my bottom in a wholly intimate and friendly 
gesture of oneness and loyalty. I turned and kissed him whole-heartedly, 
and the delighted gasps of the girls echoed round the hall.

Smegs and Nurse dragged me off him and stood our chairs up again. We sat 
down, feeling frustrated. Moggie never even faltered in her speech. She 
must have known what was going on behind her, yet she gamely carried 
on, despite so desperately wishing she could join in, lapping at my 
femininity.

As she continued, my eyes flickered across the familiar faces. So beautiful, 
so innocent, the sun shining through their hair making them seem to be 
wearing haloes. Over toward the back of the room, some of the more 
heavily pregnant girls had been allowed out of the labour ward to attend 
the poignant ceremony. Even as I watched, the medical orderlies wheeled 
one of the girls out to have her baby. I felt sorry for her, missing Moggie's 
speech, which seemed to be on the theme of fruitfulness and the joys of 
planned parenthood.

How many of these girls would not be with us in September, I mused. The 
Sixth Formers, many of them, would be moving on to University or to their 
chosen careers in the pleasure industry. Other girls who would become 
mothers during the summer holidays would not be returning. I could see 
tears glistening in their eyes as they realised that they were crossing the 
stream for the last time. Many girls were holding hands or openly 
caressing each other: hands exploring blouses and bras to liberate huge-
nippled and aroused breasts.

These goings-on were clearly affecting some of the staff members, who 
had turned to each other - dewy-eyed and wet-lipped - clutching 
feverishly at each other's lusting bodies. Darren bore Nurse to the floor, 
flung her skirts over her face and mounted her more or less without 
ceremony. Little ceremony was required, as I noted with interest that 
Nurse wore no knickers. I hated to think what Smegs would think of that, 
but Smegs was pawing at my groin and making the most pathetic little 
mewing noises. Elsewhere on the platform - and incredibly - the disco lad 
was attempting to fondle Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen. 

The stench was indescribable.

Corinne's eight boys of Team A, clad only in their sequinned jock-straps, 
were becoming restless. Eventually, she husked an order at them, and they 
laid her breasts carefully down on the platform before plunging down into 
the ranks of the Junior girls at the front of the hall. There was a chorus of 
protesting howls from the Middle girls, but it was already too late. Sex-
starved and covered in erotic oils, Team A made their selection and homed 
in. Within seconds, they were mating. I was too shocked to raise a finger to 
stop them. 

Not that I could move anyway. Corinne and Smegs were already hard at 
work on my sopping wet groin. It was just like a meeting in Moggie's office 
except that it was taking place in the full public gaze. Not too many of the 
girls were gazing. They had gathered round the orgy in the front row, 
where I could recognise Pansy's distinctive style of rodeo sex; where 
Anastasia, with steamed-up spectacles, was being energetically and 
comprehensively doggied; and where five other First and Second Form 
girls were enthusiastically attempting to make the next generation of St 
Cat's babies. To judge by their style and technique, they stood every 
chance of success. 

And like the calm at the centre of the hurricane sat Suzanne, still fully 
dressed, earnestly talking with one of the boy breast carriers, the nerdy 
one with glasses.

I worried about Suzanne sometimes.


**********

Moggie picked up her notes, peering over her reading spectacles at her 
audience, which had completed its orgy and resumed its seats, flushed and 
breathless. The only visible sign of the outbreak of lust was the gentle, 
loving afterplay as seven boys and seven girls exchanged soft, languid, 
open-mouthed and somewhat noisy kisses. The headmistress sat down and 
nodded to Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, who stood up, jettisoning the disco 
lad on to the floor. Serve him right, I thought.

"We will sing the hymn, 'Lord Dismiss Us With Thy Blessing'," she 
announced. "After the singing, please remain standing for a brief prayer ..."

And the evocative words rang out from two hundred and thirty or so 
creamy girlish throats. Something comfortably in excess of three hundred 
and ten yards of bust swelled proudly, the creaking of the ScatBras audible 
even above the bell-like crystal voices raised in joyous song. There wasn't 
a dry eye in the hall: indeed, precious few dry panties; as the last echoes 
died away and the school stood, heads bowed. Only the occasional giggle, 
moan of ecstasy and wet kiss broke the silence as Moggie rose to beg 
forgiveness for all our sins.

"And now, girls, you may leave, with dignity and decorum, and disperse to 
your homes. Remember, while you are travelling in the uniform of St 
Catherine's High School for Girls, you are ambassadrices for your school. 
Even if your loins are absolutely bursting for a fuck, you should at least try 
to wait until you get home. Thank you all. We will see most of you in 
September. Enjoy the summer!"

A nice touch, I thought, the reminder about waiting until the girls arrived 
home before indulging in the joys of sex. It showed that Moggie retained 
the common touch: she spoke the girls' language. Whether her words 
would be heeded was another matter. The girls were dangerously hot after 
witnessing the orgy. Some of them wouldn't even get much further than 
the bus.


**********

Tearfully, I said my farewells to the girls outside the main entrance lobby. 
Over the way, Smegs had a little crowd round her, mostly Second Form 
girls. They seemed to be wondering how they would survive the next two 
months without each other.

Corinne stood with half of her A Team informally holding her breasts just 
clear of the ground. Girls gathered round her to shake her hand and wish 
her a happy holiday. I saw her kiss Pansy softly on the cheek and the girl 
wandered off in a daze. One of the breast carriers wandered with her, his 
hand straying down inside the back of her skirt.

Suzanne brought me back to the present. "See you in September, Miss," she 
said."

"Bye, sweetheart! Are you going by train?"

"Yes, Miss. Shona is coming with us. We're all going to the seaside next 
week. Clit made us some brilliant bikinis."

"Bikinis? Pan and Shona as well?"

"Yeah. Pan's belly's still not too huge. We haven't seen Shona wearing hers 
yet."

"Golly!" I said, somewhat stunned at the concept of Shona in a bikini. Or 
even the two cousins, for that matter. "Enjoy yourselves."

"Thanks Miss." Pansy had joined her cousin, still with Corinne's breast 
carrier umbilically attached to her bottom.

Anastasia appeared, clutching a small suitcase. Her skirt looked 
remarkably short. I was tempted to find a tape measure and check that it 
was the regulation minimum two inches below the juncture of the thighs.

"Thanks for everything, Miss," she panted. "God, I'm puffed out! Clark came 
up to the bedroom to say bye-bye! Just a quickie, Miss."

"Clark? He is here?"

"He hitched a lift over with Miss Mountains's boyfriend, Miss. It was ever 
such a quickie, Miss. Four minutes! He's coming home with me. He's just 
dressing."

For four minutes, I wondered why he had bothered undressing in the first 
place. "How nice, dear. Take care, won't you!"

"Of course, Miss. Here he comes now. We're getting the bus." She stood on 
tiptoe, her breasts squashing massively against mine, and we kissed 
damply, mouth to mouth. It might have been better if she had kept her 
tongue out of my mouth. It was fully five minutes before I could 
disentangle myself and remove my hand from her still moist crotch. Clark 
coughed politely, said goodbye and led Anastasia off. They were practically 
climbing into each other's arms as they weaved away toward the bus stop.

I had become aware of a brooding presence by my side.

"See you in September, Miss," said Victoria.

I had heard she had been thoroughly creamed with FatLite at the St Cat's 
Grand Open Day. It seemed not to have worked. Victoria's full breasts were 
their usual bouncy selves, jiggling and rebounding bralessly beneath her 
blouse. She scratched her crotch abstractedly as she stood, and beads of 
sweat stood out on her brow. A thought occurred to me.

"You were rubbed with FatLite, weren't you, Toria?"

"Yes, Miss." She blushed deeply.

"Have you had the second treatment yet? The cream?"

"So what if I haven't, Miss," she said aggressively.

"Have you felt any ... symptoms? Any slight traces of Uncontrollable 
Horniness, perhaps?" 

Victoria went scarlet. "No, Miss! Not much, anyway." She scratched 
furiously at herself again, ending up by clutching at her groin and biting 
her lip.

"How long has it been now, Toria?"

"Ten days, Miss."

"No one has ever gone ten days. You realise that there may be effects we 
don't yet know about? If you don't cream your breasts as soon as you get 
home ..."

"I'm not going home, Miss. I'm going to Sexy Amy's."

"Well, she'll rub your breasts for you. Get her to do it straight away. You 
promise?"

"Yes, Miss," she sneered in a bored sing-song. And she swaggered off, 
although I noticed her grab at her crotch and disappear round the corner 
of the building out of sight.

It could be serious. Two weeks without the second creaming could lead to 
Victoria becoming the first ever permanent Uncontrollable Horniness 
sufferer. For that matter, two weeks before the second creaming could lead 
to ... who knew what might happen to her breasts when she was finally 
creamed? There could be explosive development, far exceeding anything 
we had ever experienced. From a starting point of well in excess of sixty 
inches on a growing girl, the effects could be devastating.

Oh, well, I thought fatalistically, it was done now. I was beginning to sound 
like the girls of the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group. 

Or as they would be in September, the Second Form Sexual Chemistry 
Group. 


**********

"You all right, love?"

"Hmm-mm," Corinne nodded. She nudged her Number One boy and he 
made a signal to his colleagues. They laid Corinne's breasts down and 
drifted away, their oiled shoulders gleaming as they moved among the 
crowds of admiring girls who were waiting to leave, but desperately horny.

"We haven't seen much of each other recently," I said. "What with Jeremy 
and everything."

"I know."

A small orgy broke out, involving Corinne's breast carriers and a number 
of girls. Corinne and I watched idly.

"You doing anything special for the summer?"

"Staying here. I can't go anywhere with these things. My boys are staying." 
She looked over at them fondly. "Two weeks on, four weeks off. They'll 
look after me." She sounded on the verge of tears.

"You could come home to Fillamore Deepleigh with me. Jeremy's driving 
me back."

"No, I'd be in the way. I'll be all right here. The boys will cook for me and 
everything."

"Darling, Cee. Please come home. Next week, perhaps? Stay as long as you 
like. We have loads of space. Jeremy will pick you up next week. He can 
borrow a van ..."

I wished I hadn't said that.

Corinne smiled sadly at me. "I'll call you if I get bored. I've got a lot to do. 
Work and stuff. Clit and Flaps are here. Honestly, it will be okay. Here's 
Jeremy now, don't keep him waiting." She leaned forward and pursed her 
lips for a kiss. It was a sisterly one. I tried a bit of tongue, but Corinne kept 
her lips tight shut. I tasted a tear on her cheek.

Hers, or mine?

"Bye, Shannie!"

"Bye, Cee. You'll call, won't you?"

"I'll call!" She turned away and snapped her fingers for her boys. Their 
hours of training showed as they stood up immediately, leaving the girls 
writhing in helpless frustration.

"Come on, love," said Jeremy. "I've loaded your case in the car. We'll be 
home for tea."

"Yes. Home for tea."




THE END