I

Emma dropped her bags on to the bare varnished boards and rattled the door knob. It yielded, so she opened the door a few inches and looked inside. "Hello? Anyone home?"
    Home? Hardly the appropriate word. There was no response so she picked up the heavier of the two bags and thrust the door open with her foot. It swung back and contacted something with a dull 'clonk'. Inside were two single beds on opposite sides of the room, a miserly oblong of carpet and two of everything else: chest of drawers, work table, wardrobe ... no, just the one wardrobe. No doubt half the furniture was for her, although just about every available level surface, including much of the floor and most of both beds, was littered with half-unpacked clothes.
    Whoever her mysterious room-mate was, Emma decided, she hadn't finished unpacking before she'd disappeared to wherever she'd gone. The bed on the right was marginally less occupied than the other, so Emma assumed that was hers. She dumped the first bag down with a twang of protesting bed springs then went back for the other one which was still sitting like a booby trap in the corridor. Finally, she shut the door and picked her way through the debris to the window.
    There was a view of sorts: from up here on the fourth floor: across the shambled rooftops and chimneys she could see a corner of the college's ancient quad, and by craning round to the left, a glimpse of some much newer buildings. It was deserted down below; she'd seen nobody but the porter in his little office, from which he'd directed her to her room with a series of grunts and movements of his thumb — mostly upwards. She'd thought of asking him for help with her bags, but what the hell, she'd carried the damned things all the way from the bus station, what difference would another hundred yards and eight more flights of stairs make?
    Breaking a nail on the window catch, she managed to get the thing to slide upwards about three inches, admitting a welcome breeze of freshly mowed grass and the distant hum of the buses from the city street. The traffic seemed to consist entirely of buses, as if the population were trying to get away from the place before the students arrived. Maybe they'd already succeeded: ninety percent of the buses were empty apart from the driver.
    Nevertheless, as she seemed to be the only one here, Emma almost found herself wondering if she'd arrived a week too soon. Just her and her new friend.
    Whoever the new friend thought she was, the Queen of Sheba or whatever, she couldn't be allowed to have the whole room to herself. Emma cleared the last of the stranger's clutter off her own bed, gathered up an armful of T-shirts from the top of her chest of drawers and dumped them rebelliously on top of one of the other girl's suitcases, unzipped her first bag and opened the wardrobe door. At least, the girl hadn't discovered the wardrobe yet, and Emma was able to commandeer the right-hand half of it, along with a tangled bundle of about thirty wire coat hangers.
    Weary as she was, she continued unpacking, mechanically putting away her things until her bags were empty, completing the task by setting her fluffy stuffed toad to guard her work table, propping her teddy bear on her bed and struggling to hoist her empty bags on top of the wardrobe out of the way.
    Her back ached. It often did, toward the end of a long day, and today had been longer and more arduous than most. Things hadn't started well. Saying good-bye to Tom was never going to be easy. Last night — had it only been last night? — he'd presented her with the teddy bear as a going-away present, which had made her laugh. Silly Tom: he was going to have to go! Going away to college was meant to be the ideal opportunity to let him fade away and find himself another girlfriend, while she got stuck into some serious studying — and found herself a boyfriend with wider interests than sex.
    Not that the sex was at all bad, as far as Emma could judge. Their relationship was probably best described as mostly physical: Tom was extremely good-looking in a rugged broken-nosed way, he wasn't short of money, he had a nice car. And Emma more than met his requirements. He had once wished out loud that she'd been a blonde, but apart from that obvious failing, she was a slender, leggy five foot seven, her hair was long and silky, and her bosom was what Tom always coarsely described as 'a fucking great pair of double-handers'. What was more, Tom had unusually large hands.
    But there had to be more to sex — and to life — than having her big tits hauled out of her shirt in the back of a car as a preface to a session of furious penetration. She had an idea that some girls achieved greater pleasure than she did out of it. Certainly, from the conversations she'd had with her few female friends, she'd formed the impression that she was missing out on something, somewhere.
    Maybe last night hadn't been the best time to tell him, but things just hadn't been right. She was apprehensive about the next day and everything, she felt on edge and snappy. She recognised the signs, but that never made it any easier. She wanted loving and cuddles, while Tom wanted her tits out and a resounding fuck.
    He'd gone home at nine and she wondered if he was going to insist on taking the teddy bear home with him. And when she'd called his number at ten thirty, his mother said he hadn't come home yet.
    She sat on the edge of the bed, and it twanged aggressively at her as she cupped her heavy bosom. "Ouch, this bra ought to have a government health warning." It was too tight, the cups were too small, and her back ached from all the walking and bag-carrying. She tugged her shirt free and reached behind her to unfasten the four hooks. Amazing how difficult it was, yet Tom could undo them in five seconds with one hand. "Oooh, that feels so good!" she sighed, and enjoyed a delicious scratch with the long nails of both hands where the bra strap had been digging into her body. She handled the full globes carefully — they were always heavy and painful round about this time of the month, but this time they seemed worse than usual — sighed, and slid further on to the bed. It was more comfortable than it looked, and she reclined against her three pillows, stretching like an animal until she found herself face to face with the teddy bear. He looked so downcast that she almost wanted to cry. "You little bastard," she told him. "It's your own fault."
    The whole building was silent. Not even the banging of a door anywhere to betray the presence of another student anywhere in the college. The buses were still going about their business, so she knew she hadn't gone deaf. And there was another person somewhere in the place, she saw as her eyes fell upon the scattered clothing. "I'll have to keep an eye on her, whoever she is; she can't be allowed to live in a pigsty, even if she lives that way at home. I wonder what she's like..."
    Emma got up and wandered to the other bed, sifting through the piles of stuff carefully, as if the other girl could possibly know if it had been disturbed. She picked up a large T-shirt with a corporate logo of some kind, then jumped back in alarm as a plastic carrier bag upended itself and discharged a cascade of shoes on to the floor. It went on for what seemed like ages. Emma giggled. The girl must have brought with her every pair of shoes she'd ever owned. A pity they were so small, in fact, they were tiny, no chance of borrowing a pair for a night out. There were a couple of pairs of jeans, too, and Emma saw that there was no chance of borrowing those either; they were woefully short and so minute round the waist and hips the girl must have bought them in a children's department.
    "She's a little squirt," Emma concluded, forming a mental image of a skinny dwarf wearing thick spectacles. "An untidy little squirt." At least, it ought to be easier to keep a small room-mate in line than if she'd been some kind of amazon.
    She retreated to her own territory again and sat down with the not-yet-familiar twang of springs. A thought came to her; she'd seen the other girl's shoes and her jeans, but she hadn't seen any of her underwear. It seemed strange, everything else was scattered to the four winds, but there were no flimsy nighties, no panties, no bras.
    This time, Emma made straight for the second chest of drawers, the one nearest the other bed. She opened the top drawer, and the little hairs on the back of her neck stood up on end at the unexpected sight. The whole of the drawer was taken up with a neat pile of folded panties, there must have been six dozen pairs of them, all immaculately ironed and laid out with geometrical precision.
    She just knew that the second drawer was going to contain bras, but she had no idea why her heart was thumping against her ribs as she pulled the drawer open.
    Then she was staring down at a neat stack of lacy undergarments, white, lemon yellow, blush pink and black.
    Almost reverently, she reached down and picked up the black one off the top. She was used to bras with four hooks. This one, somehow without losing a single shred of its feminity, had eight. And the cups were far, far larger than any she had seen before. Emma knew what a triple D-cup looked like: her own too-tight bra was a 36DDD. She had found a more comfortable one in another store, but it had been marked 36F, and the mere thought of needing an F-cup had made her feel like a fat old woman. What she knew beyond a shadow of doubt was that these cups were at least twice as big as her own. With a kind of sick feeling, she fumbled with the straps, looking for the size tag at the back. But to her bitter disappointment, there was no size in there. The label simply said ABC Creations and there was a name in marker pen. Dierdre Jackson. As if anyone could mistake a bra this size for anyone else's!
    The blood rushed to her face and thundered in her ears as she tried to revise her mental picture of this other girl: tiny feet, short legs, skinny little backside, stonking great tits. Her whole head would fit in one of these bra cups. It did! There was a faint scent in there...
    Emma heard the doorknob rattle an instant before it burst open, giving her less than a second to throw the giant-cupped bra in the drawer and shut it with her knee. She tried to move away but her legs wouldn't carry her anywhere.
    "Oops! Sorry. Wrong room!" The door closed again, then after a pause of perhaps five seconds, reopened. "No it isn't." The girl came back in as Emma turned.
    The newcomer was no more than four feet eight tall, and her lower half was exactly as Emma had pictured her. The upper half was somehow squeezed into a pale-blue tank-top, and underneath that was all too obviously a white bra of almost inconceivable dimensions. Dragging her eyes further upwards, Emma found herself looking into a pair of glasses that looked about as big around as dinner plates, framed by a curtain of fair hair which hung to the girl's shoulders. Somewhere behind the glasses were her eyes, although she was squinting and turning her head this way and that, apparently unable to resolve the blurred image in front of her into anything recognisable as a human being. That mental image had been almost spookily accurate.
    "Hi?" the girl queried, in case there was anyone there. "I'm Dee-Dee Jackson."
    Emma was so taken aback she blurted the first thing that came into her head. "Dee-Dee?" She recovered after a few seconds and stuck out a hand which the girl failed to see. "Oh, hello. Emma. Emma Foster."
    "Am I glad to see you!" Dee-Dee gushed, although there was no indication that she could see anything beyond the tip of her turned-up nose. "I've just been exploring. I reckon we're the only ones here. D'you think they told us the right day?" She wandered further into the room, searching for her bed by feel or by radar, tripped over her pile of shoes and cursed as her glasses fell off. She looked up blankly. Dee-Dee was almost pretty without her glasses. And almost frighteningly stacked.
    She fumbled around on the bed, hopelessly turning over piles of clothes, while Emma tried not to dissolve into giggles. Part of it was nervousness, part relief at having narrowly escaped being caught with her face buried in one of this girl's bra cups — although Dee-Dee would never have been able to see what her new room-mate was doing. "You looking for your specs? They're this way, near the end. There...!"
    "Ah, thanks!" Dee-Dee grabbed them, wiped the lenses with a T-shirt, then wound the earpieces round her ears at the second attempt and peered out at her environment thus transformed.
    "I was just admiring the view," said Emma. "Like from the window?" With a chill, she realised that half of Dee-Dee's black bra strap was hanging out of the second drawer down. Dee-Dee approached the window, bent down and opened the drawer and shoved the bra out of sight, then straightened up to look out at the world.
    "I'm not tall enough to see much. I tried to open the window, too, but I couldn't reach, what with one thing and another."
    Emma could see what she meant. Dee-Dee wasn't tall enough to reach the window catch, and even if she had been, her arms wouldn't have been long enough to reach past her phenomenal bust. God, from this close and from the side, the girl was massive!
    "Sometimes I wish..." Dee-Dee started, then stopped. "Still, always look on the bright side, right?"
    "Oh, absolutely!"
    Dee-Dee moved off across the room with no clear idea of her destination. "Maybe the other girls will arrive tomorrow. Is this your first time away from home? Me, too, I mean, it's my first time. You're so tall! Compared to me, I mean. And you've got quite a big bust, really. Compared to most people, anyway. Have you got a boyfriend? Oh, of course you have. You're pretty. Wow, a teddy bear! I've heard about those..."
    Dee-Dee picked up the bear by one leg. She seemed to be seeing more clearly now that she had cleaned her lenses.
    "My boyfriend gave him to me."
    "Have you had him long?"
    "Just last night."
    Dee-Dee nodded, leaving Emma wondering whether she ought to have made things a little more clear. But Dee-Dee didn't seem unduly fazed by the notion of a one-night boyfriend. She'd probably never had one at all. What would Tom have made of those tits? On Emma, they'd have been fantastic; on Dee-Dee's child-like frame they were almost obscenely huge. An unwanted mental image came to her of Tom grunting away on top of Dee-Dee.
    "There'll be loads of boys here," she told herself and Dee-Dee at the same time. "We'll be beating them off with sticks."
    "Why?" Dee-Dee peered around the room, apparently debating whether to tidy things up a little before the place began to fill up with predatory males. She picked up a shoe and put it down again. It was going to take her an hour just to arrange all those shoes into pairs.
    "You want a hand putting your stuff away?"
    "I've got so much. I put my undies away — well, you know that — but all this other stuff ... where's it all going to go?"
    "The wardrobe?"
    "Wardrobe?" Dee-Dee looked blank.
    "That tall thing with doors?"
    "A wardrobe? Oh, a wardrobe! I've never had one." She made it sound like a boyfriend. She opened the door and looked inside as if expecting a body to fall out. "There's things in here already."
    "They're mine. We've got half each. You hang your stuff up, and your shoes can go down the bottom, down there..." It was a weird feeling, issuing instructions on the use of an everyday item of furniture.
    Dee-Dee was overjoyed, once she'd dragged a chair close enough to stand on and hang up her clothes. "Hey, this is all right!" She began looking round for more things to put away, and seeing nothing she peeled her tank-top off over her head. Emma took a deep breath at the sight of the immense bra that covered the girl's torso all the way down to the waist of her juvenile jeans. Despite its colossal size, it still wasn't big enough. "Look at it," said Dee-Dee dejectedly. "I'm bulging out of it at the top, hanging out of the bottom and practically exploding out of the sides. And I've only had it three bloody months." She hoisted the contents with two inadequate hands and tossed her breasts up and down a few times before poking and prodding at some of the mounds of surplus flesh to persuade it all to stay out of sight. "God, I'm enormous! Who makes yours?"
    "Makes my what?" Emma asked, although she knew the answer already. "My bras? I buy them in an ordinary store."
    "I wish I could. I've never been able to. Even when I first started growing I was so tiny round my back my bras had to be altered before I could wear them. And after I outgrew my first ones, that was it! I've been a special size ever since. And look at the rest of me! My waist is something silly and my hips are only twenty-six inches. Or is it centimetres, do you use those? No, it can't be: twenty-six inches would be sixty-six point oh-four centimetres and that sounds about right. Look at me, I'm so top-heavy it isn't true. Well, that's the trouble: it is. What shall we do? Go for a walk?"
    Emma hadn't really thought about it, but a walk seemed like as good a way of spending the time and getting to know her room-mate as anything else. It was a pleasant afternoon, and at least she wouldn't have to carry her luggage any more.
    "Sure, why not? Let me have a shower and get ready."
    "A shower?"
    "A wash? Kind of a bath?"
    "Oh, a shower! Right."
    Emma wasn't quite sure if and when she'd invited Dee-Dee into the bathroom with her, and things were a little snug in there given the size of Dee-Dee's upper regions. Things got even snugger when Dee-Dee stripped off and accompanied Emma into the shower cubicle, but it was a refreshing experience once she got used to it, and it was nice to have someone to talk to. Maybe they'd have to work out a less sociable arrangement in due course, but meanwhile it gave Emma a close-up view of Dee-Dee's naked bosom. In fact, it gave her an unexpected opportunity to soap up her room-mate's magnificent globes; an experience which turned out to be so disturbingly arousing it was almost scary.
    "Your hands are so soft, Emma! Don't stop!"
    Having started, Emma didn't want to stop just yet; it felt just like washing her own except that Dee-Dee's were something like three times as big, three times as heavy and three times as soft; and if her nipples were only twice as long and twice as thick that was only because Emma had unusually prominent nipples herself. Especially after Dee-Dee had insisted on reaching up and doing the same for her.
    "Do you like this, Emma?"
    "Oooh, yes!"
    "Does it feel good anywhere else?"
    "It feels good all over," Emma said, anxious not to give away too many explicit details.
    "Good!" And Dee-Dee suddenly let rip with a howl of ecstasy that must have shaken the hall of residence to its venerable foundations. Although Emma couldn't really speak from personal experience she was pretty certain the girl was having an orgasm. Or maybe more than one. It went on for half a minute or more, at the end of which the grateful girl gleefully soaped both hands and applied them to Emma's loins.
    "Jeezus!" Emma gasped after several minutes.
    "You did enjoy it, didn't you? Tell me you enjoyed it!"
    "What do you think?"
    "You were so quiet, I thought you weren't, but you were wriggling quite a lot. I wriggle, too, but I make lots of noise."
    That summed it up pretty well, thought Emma as she climbed out of the shower on wobbly legs, and Dee-Dee followed her out into their room.
    "We'll do that again," said Dee-Dee firmly. "I know lots more exciting things we can do."
    "You do?" For the first time in her life she'd had someone's finger up her bum, and her mind boggled at the thought that Dee-Dee might know of lots more exciting things than that.
    "Sure. And you can do them to me, too, okay?"
    "Okay."
    "Promise?"
    "Promise."
    Whereupon Dee-Dee stood on tiptoe, flung her arms around Emma's neck and kissed her wetly on the lips. The small girl's extremely fat breasts rather got in the way but it was by no means an unpleasant intrusion. And after Dee-Dee had pulled away and leaned back to study Emma's face, she grinned and dived in for another mouthful of tongue.
    Her glasses were steamed up, but she seemed to know what she was doing by feel alone.
    "Let's go for a walk now," she said eventually. "Down by the river."
    If Dee-Dee had suggested a stroll across the ceiling, Emma could not have refused. Her head was in a whirl. She'd never thought of herself as a lesbian, nor even slightly bisexual. If Tom had walked in now, she wouldn't have known what to do with herself. But knowing Tom, he'd probably have enjoyed watching.
    It was cool as they walked along the towpath, watching the swans weaving around and the inept antics of young lovers learning to make punts go the right way.
    "Will boys take us punting, do you think, Em?"
    "I s'pose so. In summer, anyway. We'll know lots of boys by then."
    "Good! And we can fuck as well, can't we? Will you come with me? Can we go together? You can look after me and I'll teach you exciting things you can do."
    Emma giggled, although Dee-Dee's small face was perfectly serious behind her glasses. "All right. If you like."
    "That's nice. It's getting cold, shall we go back? Look at my nipples!"
    "Mine, too," said Emma. "Dee, what are you doing!"
    "Just rubbing yours. Look at them now."
    "You can't do that here! People will see..." she looked down at her nipples, which were filled with a tingling sensation. They felt as if they were growing inside her bra and yet they weren't sticking out as much as she expected. Just as well, if they'd been as big as they felt, birds could have flown down and perched on them. Swans.
    "There's nobody to see," said Dee-Dee. "I can't see anyone."
    "You can't see anything anyway," Emma retorted rudely, until she happened to glance out across the river. The nearest of the boats was fifty yards away and its crew had eyes only for each other. Even the swans had moved away downstream.
    "Here, let me finish rubbing them. That's better, isn't it?"
    "Y-yes. What did you do? They feel all warm and fluffy!"
    "Mine feel like that all the time when they're growing. I told you I know lots of exciting things. C'mon back to the room. We're students. You can teach me how to make baked beans on toast."

Emma woke early next morning, listening for sounds of life outside the room. A few birds sang, their calls echoing off the ancient stonework. It was too early for the day's plague of buses, although she heard a car door slam somewhere down below, and a girl's voice yelling goodbye to someone over and over again.
    Dee-Dee was breathing noisily in the other bed, and when Emma raised herself on to one elbow she could see her lying on her back, the single sheet mounded to an improbable height by her breasts. A remarkable girl, and a very strange one; full of surprises. What kind of a girl was it who needed twenty minutes' tuition before she could serve baked beans on toast? And how could one explain her extraordinary activity in the shower? Emma blushed at the memory and lay back down, touching herself beneath the sheet.
    Out in the hallway she could hear heavy footsteps clumping up the stairs, and panting voices approaching along the landing; at least two, possibly three or four girls had just climbed on heavy feet to the fourth floor with their bags, too puffed out even to curse.
    The first of the day's new arrivals, and it was so early, not even seven o'clock yet. A door opened and closed, it sounded like the one opposite, then another further down the corridor. From then on, those two doors opened and slammed continuously as chattering girls went in and out, holding loud and trivial conversations as they came and went. One girl was dishing out a one-sided and repetitive bollocking to someone on a mobile phone. Did these people have no consideration at all?
    Dee-Dee slept on, and the sounds outside gradually died away. Maybe they hadn't really been all that loud, Emma thought, just people speaking in normal voices where previously the place had been silent as the tomb.
    A knock on the door, was that? Or was it on the door of the next room? Again.
    "Hello?"
    The door opened cautiously and a head looked in. A slightly too round and not too devastatingly pretty face with hair scraped back into a ponytail. "Oh, sorry! You've gone to bed!" the face pointed out.
    "We've been here since yesterday."
    "Oh." The head scanned the room and noticed Dee-Dee's sleeping form. "Two of you?"
    "That's right."
    The head appeared to make a decision and came right inside, accompanied by a body. Which was when Emma found herself suffering from a fit of coughing and spluttering. The newcomer was a little below average height, with a compact bottom squeezed into a pair of jeans just a couple of sizes too small, and a faded blue work shirt containing a quite massive pair of breasts. They weren't quite as big as Dee-Dee's, but that still allowed them to be very large indeed.
    "You must be Emma, right? Jane Scully," the girl introduced herself, offering a formal hand. "Are you all right? A drink of water?"
    "No thanks, I'll be okay." Emma wiped her streaming eyes on the sheet and grasped Jane's hand. The shirt wobbled majestically as they shook hands.
    "I only came to borrow some coffee. Instant will be fine. Just enough for me and my four friends. We've moved in opposite. I'll make you and your friend a cup, too, if you like."
    "How very kind. I think I've got a tiny bit left in the jar. No sugar, though."
    "Damn. We wanted sugar. You sure you haven't got any?"
    "Positive. There's probably a shop in the High Street..."
    "Too early," said Jane gloomily. "Haven't you got any more mugs than these?"
    "No, just the two. There are only two of us."
    "Oh, shit. Never mind. I'll make ours first and then if there's any coffee left you can have yours after. I'll get Big Katie to bring the mugs back. You do want them back, don't you?"
    "Yes, please..."
    But Jane had already gone, leaving the door ajar, and her voice carried complainingly across the corridor... "Snotty little stuck-up tart only had two mugs! Some people..." until the door of the other room slammed and cut her off.
    Emma got out of bed and made for the bathroom. Somehow, Dee-Dee had slept through the whole thing, her face innocent without its glasses, her mountainous bust rising and falling, the points of her nipples remarkably visible even through the sheet.
    "Don't even think about that," Emma warned herself. "Have a cold shower." She'd meant it only metaphorically, but ten seconds after the cleansing warm spray started, there was a clanking noise from the plumbing and the water instantly turned to needles of ice. She escaped without injury and clutched at a towel. And it was thus, insecurely wrapped in a bath towel, her nipples like champagne corks, she emerged into the bedroom just as the door flung itself open and a short, fat, red-haired girl bustled in carrying two empty mugs.
    "Oh, hi! Brought your mugs back. We used all the coffee so I threw the jar away. And there wasn't any sugar. Careful," she scolded as she handed the mugs over. "They'll need washing up. I'm Big Katie, by the way."
    Big Katie was no more than five feet tall but she was over-qualified for her title thanks to her other dimensions. A pair of broad, child-bearing hips were crammed unwisely into what ought to have been baggy store trousers, bulging dangerously and threatening to burst at the seams. But it was above the waist that Katie really became Big Katie. She wore her navy blue sweater tucked in at the waist and it was so full of bosom that it overhung the top of her pants by fully six inches, and this despite swelling out to each side of her body by a similar amount. To prove, if proof were necessary, that her endowments were the real thing, her nipples protruded untidily in various directions some way below waist level. Emma supposed that Big Katie did have a waist. Seconds later, as the dumpy creature turned to leave, Emma realised that she did indeed have a waist, defined by a broad leather belt. Her middle wasn't particularly narrow, maybe thirty-two inches or so, but compared with what was below and especially above it gave her the appearance of an overweight hourglass.
    "See ya!" Katie called over her shoulder as she departed, her bottom wiggling about a foot to each side. Emma slammed the door with her foot. What was it with these people? Were they born in a barn?
    "Hello!" Dee-Dee half sat up then collapsed down again. She made another attempt and levered herself into a sitting position, wrapped in the rumpled sheet. "Did I hear voices?"
    "Some girls have moved in. They stole all our coffee. Bitches!"
    "Good! I was beginning to worry last night that nobody else was coming." She stretched spectacularly. "Oh, my gosh, look at me this morning. I'm enormous! I knew it was happening again, but..."
    Emma, who had been wondering if she'd been seeing things, stared more closely at Dee-Dee. Was it an illusion, or...?"
    "I must be, oh, I don't know what size I am. Certainly loads bigger than yesterday. Emma, be a love. Second drawer down, my bras. Dig down to the bottom and find me the purple one."
    Emma was glad to turn away and hide her flushed face. Down on her knees in front of Dee-Dee's bra drawer she realised what she had somehow failed to notice the day before. All the bras weren't the same size. The purple one, down at the bottom, was so gigantic it boggled the mind.
    "This one?" She held it up.
    "Dee-Dee giggled. "It's a ridiculous size, isn't it? It's like a joke bra! Toss it over." She busied herself with it, half concealed by the sheet. "Sometimes I wish I could go without a bra, but I'm so heavy it's out of the question. It's time I got myself some more, even this one's only just big enough when I'm like this. There!" She swung her legs out of bed and rose to her feet. "How's it look?"
    "My God, Dee!"
    "That's what most people say," said Dee-Dee sadly, her head tilted to one side. "I know it looks terrible, but ... I don't look too silly, do I?"
    "Silly? No, you don't look silly at all."
    "I should really wear a bra in bed when I'm big like this, but it's so hot and itchy. You've had a shower. Is the water nice and hot?"
    "Freezing."
    "Oh, good!"
    Good? Didn't Dee-Dee ever listen to a thing she said? She wobbled past on her way to the bathroom, reaching behind her to release the multitude of hooks of her purple bra. Her voice came from the bathroom.
    "So how big were the new girls?"
    Emma blinked and followed her room-mate. "How big?"
    A surprised face popped back out of the shower curtain. "Their busts, of course." The water started and Dee-Dee had to shout so she could hear herself. "How big are their busts? Fucking hell, it's freezing!"
    "I told you it was."
    A succession of grunts and squeals, then the water was turned off and Dee-Dee leapt from the shower, her breasts like great pink torpedoes.
    "N-not as big as yours," Emma stammered.
    "Of course not, silly! Pretty big, though?"
    "Yeah," Emma thought of Big Katie. "Pretty huge, actually."
    "Good. We're going to have some fun. How big are yours this morning?"
    "Mine? Oh, just ... you know? Just like usual, really ... considering the time of the month..."
    "They haven't finished yet," Dee-Dee said mysteriously, whisking up her purple hammock with one hand and twirling it as she jiggled massively across the bedroom. Emma followed, stunned and bemused. Dee-Dee stood beside her bed, vigorously towelling her hair. Her breasts were so full and huge, they actually rested on the bed, wobbling from side to side.
    "Does this happen to you often, growing like this?"
    "Now and again. This is the biggest I've been this year, though, just like you."
    "Just like me? How d'you know...?"
    "Trust me, Em. Now, how many of these new girls have you seen?"
    "Jane and Big Katie, just the two so far, but there are five of them. And there'll be more moving in today."
    "Exactly! Now, you don't want to be smallest, do you? The smallest bust?"
    "What? I'm not that small? What's it matter anyway? My bust's okay as it is. I certainly don't need it any bigger."
    "Oh, but you must!" Dee-Dee sounded shocked. "It doesn't have to be the biggest, but you most definitely do not want it to be the smallest. Come here!"
    Emma moved closer and felt Dee-Dee's hands rub themselves against her prominent nipples, just like the evening before down by the river, except that this time she didn't stop. The warm tingling surged through her, spreading out from the nipples in waves...
    "How does that feel? Like slightly kind of sick inside?"
    "Y-yes."
    "That ought to be enough, then." Dee-Dee dropped her hands and Emma immediately wanted her to carry on, sickness or no. "No, no more now!" she laughed as Emma lifted her breasts in her hands and thrust them appealingly in Dee-Dee's face, whimpering like an eager puppy. "Little and often, that's the secret. We can do it again later, and by tomorrow ... well, I'm sure you'll like what you see. I'll get dressed and go out for some coffee and stuff. Sugar? And milk. I could probably manage the milk myself but once it's started it gets to be a nuisance. What are you studying?"
    The girl's brain couldn't stick to one subject for ten seconds. What was all that about milk? But Dee-Dee was waiting for an answer, her mouth open, her head nodding in anticipation.
    "English Lit."
    "Good! How much is coffee?"
    "What about you?" Emma demanded doggedly. "What are you doing?"
    "Me?" Dee-Dee looked blank for a moment. "Oh, Meeja. Meeja Studies. Whatever that is. Will it be more than five pounds?"
    "Depends how big a pack you buy. Just coffee, sugar and milk. Here..." Emma dug into her purse. "See if you can get a couple more mugs as well."
    She watched regretfully as Dee-Dee's vast purple bra disappeared beneath a sweater that must have been knitted specially for a weightlifter with extremely short arms. Or for a gigantic-busted girl of four feet eight. Then with a fleeting smile, the ridiculous girl straightened her glasses on her nose and slipped out of the door.

They hid the coffee and sugar with the smiley-faced mugs in the bathroom cabinet behind Emma's family sized box of Tampax Supers and pledged that they'd tell the next batch of new girls that they never touched the stuff on religious grounds. The girls across the way didn't come back, having used up all of Emma's and Dee-Dee's provisions, but two quiet long-haired girls from the room next door came a-knocking to ask about a bookshop.
    "Did you see those?" Emma gasped after they had left.
    "Of course I did. You do really need to be a little bigger, you know, Em."
    "I don't know..."
    "Come on, just a teeny rub..."
    And once Dee-Dee had started, Emma wanted much, much more.
    "How's it feel?"
    "Not bad. I don't feel sick yet, carry on!"
    "Are you sure?"
    "Yeah, I'm sure." And to prove how sure she was, Emma practically tore off her T-shirt and bra, insisting on Dee-Dee rubbing her naked breasts for her.
    "That's enough for now, my hands are getting tired," Dee-Dee said after ten minutes.
    "Don't stop!"
    "Go and lie down for half an hour, enjoy the feeling," Dee-Dee laughed, watching Emma stagger away to her bed and collapse on to her back. She was wearing only her panties, and the itch had spread from her breasts to the whole of her body, especially her crotch. And her breasts felt as if they were bursting. They didn't look quite as big as they felt, but Dee-Dee reassured her. "They'll be as big as those two dreamboats from next door by tomorrow morning."
    "They won't, will they?" The two quiet girls had been well wrapped up in bulky sweaters but they were both noticeably very well-endowed.
    "Sure. You won't be as big as Big Katie, although she's a bit gross. You'll need a bigger bra, although if I were you I wouldn't buy more than one."
    "You mean it's temporary? I'll only get bigger for a little while?"
    "Sort of," said Dee-Dee thoughtfully. "You don't want to spend too much on bras that aren't going to fit you, after all, do you? Especially expensive made to measure ones. Believe me, these things cost money!"
    Another knock on the door, and the two of them rolled their eyes at one another.
    "Shall I get rid of them?" Dee-Dee asked in a stage whisper.
    "Yeah. Just because we're the first room you come to right at the top of the stairs, that doesn't mean we're the Citizens' Advice Bureau. Tell whoever it is to fuck off!"
    So Dee-Dee opened the door wide. "Oh, hiya," she squealed. "Come on in!"
    "Dee, no! I'm practically naked!"
    Too late, the latest visitor breezed in and marched across to the window in about three strides. "You've got a better view than us," she proclaimed, turning to survey the interior of the room.
    "Who the hell are you?" Emma demanded, wrapping her chest in a sheet.
    "Who the hell are you?"
    "I live here. This is our room!"
    "We'll see about that," snapped the young woman. Her hair was cropped savagely short, apparently using a knife and fork, and she wore a kind of shapeless boiler suit. Emma wondered if she'd come to repair the hot water system. The essentially masculine garment hung on her six-foot tall frame like a sack, except across the chest, where it was stretched so tight that there were three-inch wide gaps between the buttons through which were pale pink glimpses of the kind of battleship bra usually worn by other people's grannies.
    "I'm Dee-Dee," said Dee-Dee. "And this is my friend Emma."
    "Friend? Friend? Huh!" the woman snorted, and marched straight out again.
    "This place is a madhouse!" said Emma.
    Dee-Dee frowned. "How big would you say her bust was?"
    "What's it matter how big hers was?" But Emma considered for a while. "Huge. And she's so tall and such a broad back, she must have been fifty inches at the very least."
    "Oh, easily." And Dee-Dee came over and pulled the sheet aside, standing on tiptoe to peer into Emma's cleavage. "These are really lovely, but they're going to have to be lots bigger than we thought. Hold still a minute ... there!"
    "Dee!" The feeling was back instantly as Dee-Dee's hands rotated across the broad ends of Emma's breasts, bending the rapidly thickening nipples in all different directions.
    "I can't rub you properly if you don't stop putting your arms around my neck," Dee-Dee protested. "But it does feel nice, kissing you like this. Does it feel like this with a boyfriend?"
    "Not exactly the same. In some ways it's nicer, but not in others."
    "Oh, good!"
    "Boyfriends don't have such nice big interesting tits to play with, like yours."
    "And yours, Em. And you just wait until tomorrow morning!"

Emma sat up in the middle of the night, wondering what had awakened her. Her alarm clock said it was 4:59, then it changed its mind and blinked to 5:00. For some reason it felt like one of those Christmas mornings when she'd been a little girl, like the time she'd got her first bike. Then she remembered why it felt that way. Her breasts!
    They began tingling as soon as she thought of them, and her nipples felt as if they were being squashed flat by the T-shirt she wore in bed. Idly she remembered Dee-Dee's remark about the discomforts of sleeping in a bra; this T-shirt was like a strait-jacket. Yet it was an extra large one ... "Shit!" she said, coming wide awake and feeling her chest. Her hand encountered an unaccustomed swelling. "Oh, my God, I'm enormous! Dee?"
    There was no reply, not a sound, so Emma fumbled around and turned on her bedside lamp. Dee-Dee's bed was empty, the covers flung back. The bathroom door was open; she wasn't in there.
    "Where is she?" Emma felt for the floor with her toes, then stood up shakily. She felt appallingly top-heavy all of a sudden as she blundered towards the bathroom and tugged at the light switch. "Holy fuck!" she said with deep feeling as she blinked away the last of her sleepiness and stared at the mirror in disbelief. "It fucking worked!" She scrutinised her image for half a minute or more, turning slightly from side to side. From every angle it was the same story. Her breasts were great big swollen globes pushing out at the T-shirt and stretching it so much that the dark circles of her areolae showed through rudely. Except that they weren't circles now, they were ovals, a couple of inches bigger than they used to be. "I'll kill that girl!" she muttered, then added inconsequentially, "I wonder what Tom will think of these puppies!"
    They didn't wobble quite as much as she thought they might as she stomped back out into the bedroom again. Having said that, they most certainly did wobble far more than she was used to. Despite their robust firmness, they were so big they couldn't not swing and sway and sag. She felt Dee-Dee's bed: faintly warm. Maybe ten minutes since she'd left. Emma opened the door and peered out into the chilly corridor, uncomfortably aware of her lack of panties now that her expanded bust was hiking her T-shirt up almost to the level of her crotch. Deserted.
    She looked around the room, strode across to the wardrobe and looked inside. Dee-Dee wasn't in there either, and nor was her big sweater. There was, however, a yellow post-it note stuck halfway down the cracked mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door.

"Daft cow, she can't even get a phone number right. Especially as it's on the label of all her bras..." Emma heaved open the second drawer and pulled out the bra from the top. Sure enough, there was a label and a number for ABC Creations. Nothing like the one Dee-Dee had suggested. On an impulse, Emma held the bra up against her chest. The cups were almost the right size, an indication of how much she'd grown, but the band was woefully short of meeting at the back. She'd never get it on. Dee-Dee was right; a new bra was going to be essential. Unless she simply went without...
    Getting the T-shirt off was harder than it sounded. Her bust was so full and firm that the hem of the shirt was simply too small to stretch over it. Grunting and swearing colourfully, Emma heaved at it in growing panic. A knife, perhaps? Scissors?
    The answer proved to be to hoist the shirt over one breast at a time. It was still the Devil's own job, but it finally came free and she was able to tear it off over her head and hurl it to the floor. The reflection she saw in the inadequate wardrobe mirror sent her hurrying back to the bathroom for another look at herself. She had to hold each of them still with both hands at a time, steadying first the right one then the left. Then she cupped them gently from underneath and just gazed at herself. She arrived at three conclusions:

These things are fucking incredible...
I think I could kind of grow to quite like them...
No way in the world can I not wear a bra...

Somewhere, a clock struck the half-hour. It was way too early to try calling ABC Creations, and she was by now far too wide awake to go back to bed. She'd never sleep. But when she lay down to summon up her thoughts — how much would new bras cost, what about the rest of her clothes; shirts, sweaters? — her hands immediately strayed to her nipples, and at the first touch, the tingling feeling came flooding back in great waves, spreading throughout her huge new breasts and making a bee-line for her pussy. Within seconds, she had two fingers buried in her sopping wetness, humping her bottom off the bed in a desperate attempt to get closer to her loving hand, feeling her clitty almost digging into her moist palm.
    "Unh, ungh, oooh!" she grunted, and went monotonously on in the same vein for several minutes, ending with a great cry of joy. Her heartbeat thumped against her ribs, her ears were ringing, and down in the room below someone was pounding on the ceiling with the heel of a shoe.

End of Part I