Another Summer At Brownwater Sands  v3 
By A x o l o t l



(c) 2002 Axolotl

"Em? Where are ya? I know you're on this campsite somewhere!"

Emma rolled over on her bed with a groan and held the phone a foot away from
her ear. The noise still came out at undiminished volume so she wrapped it in
her beach towel.

"Em? I said where are ya?"

"Zoe?"

As if it could be anyone else with a voice that loud.

"I can't hear you, Em. You under a blanket or something? Oh, yeah? Who's the
lucky bloke...?"

Emma unwrapped the towel from the phone and tried again.

"Zoe? Where are you?"

"Ouch! There's no need to fucking shout! I'm in the bogs. I knew you were here
'cause I recognised your dad's car. Soon's I get out of here I'll come and
knock on your tent..."

"You're in the bog... the toilets? Where? Not that portable thing...?"

Had she said too much? After all, she had promised not to say a word...

"Portable...?" Zoe sounded guarded all of a sudden. "What do you know about
that?"

"About what? Nothing!"

"I'm in the brick-built shithouse next to the camp shop, and it stinks in
here. When did you arrive?"

"Last night. Look, I'm still in bed. Can't we hold this conversation in
private instead of yelling into mobile phones at..." Emma looked at her watch
and shuddered "...seven o'clock in the morning?"

"I couldn't sleep. Okay, see you in ten minutes. Yours or mine?"

"Mine. Bring a bottle of water with you."

"Water? Same old Em! See ya."

Emma sank back with a sigh. It had been a whole year, give or take a week or
so, and Zoe was resuming the conversation as if it had been five minutes.
Would the boys be here again this year? Pooch and the rest of them? Emma
dreamed about sex for a few moments before her thoughts drifted back to a year
ago.

The Encounter, she called it whenever she thought back to her unbelievable
experience in the temporary toilet trailer at Brownwater Sands. When you meet
a bunch of four-feet-tall guys in shiny suits, one of them wielding a zonking
great hypodermic syringe, you're supposed to say nothing about the experience
afterwards, not to anyone. Emma hadn't. You're supposed to have sex with the
four-feet-tall guys as well, if you believe all the stories, but Emma had
drawn the line at that.

The rest of the deal was now ancient history. The aliens, a pair of little men
in shiny suits whose lives were ruled by a disembodied female Voice with a
vocabulary like a fishwife, had blundered. Apparently it wasn't the first time
in their career, but this time it was a doozy. Even after being carefully
briefed, they had somehow abducted the wrong girl. It should have been
smaller-than-average-busted Zoe. They got much-bigger-than-average- busted
Emma.

Aliens operate under a strict set of rules. Once they abduct anyone, they have
to swear them to silence. Usually, this works pretty well. Okay, a few people
spill the beans to the tabloid press but they're always from America so no one
believes them as a matter of principle. But out of the millions of people
captured by aliens every year the vast majority of them never say a word
afterwards. After all, money is no object to an alien, and they are excellent
payers.

Emma's aliens didn't pay her with money. They didn't use money. They preferred
to pay in kind.

Normally this would be no problem. The 'kind' they paid in was quite a welcome
commodity. Their speciality was capturing flat-chested young girls and giving
them tits. It was a popular scheme and it worked well. Throughout the world,
young girls would have a brief encounter with Tharg, Blorp and Voice. Over the
next week or so they would develop a nice chubby pair of handfuls, and
everyone would make jokes about little Mary-Jane having had a visit from the
tit-fairy at last.

If the aliens had picked up Zoe, the plan would have worked just fine. Zoe was
tall, strapping and strong. She played beach rugby with such power and skill
that she reduced boys to whimpering dweebs with terminal hard-ons. She wasn't
exactly flat-chested but her bikinis could easily have accommodated a pair of
twice-as-big tits without any difficulty at all. And that would have been
fine, as when these aliens doled out bigger tits their smallest unit of growth
was 100%. Well, 99%, actually.

It should have been Zoe, but they got Emma instead.

And Emma already strained the straps of an L-cup bra before she stepped on
board the aliens' space craft, a ladies' mobile toilet in downtown Brownwater.
By the time the aliens dropped her off at the campsite, they had bought her
silence in the usual way. Unless Emma's luck changed dramatically, she was
well on her way to having the biggest tits on the planet. Well, certainly at
her school.

Kneeling in her tent she lowered her tits into her bra then fumbled behind her
for the hooks. There were only twelve of them and they were great big
heavy-duty ones, so it wasn't too difficult.

"Shit!" she said, subsiding on to her bottom. Getting dressed was enough of a
chore even at home in the bedroom. Here, in a tent, sitting on a bouncy
inflatable mattress, it was well-nigh impossible. She wrestled her way into
her T-shirt and rummaged for her jeans. She spent three minutes getting into
them and working them up her serviceably meaty thighs before realising that
she'd forgotten her panties. "Shit!" she said again. "Fuck!" she added for
good measure. Her mood was not sweetened when she zipped up the jeans and
snagged her pubic hair in the zipper.

She had to shuffle round carefully so she was facing the doorway, open the
flap a few inches to let in the light, then with her tongue sticking out in
concentration, she freed her tangled nether locks from the zipper.

"Why do I do this?" she nagged herself. At least once a week she caught her
bush in the zipper of her jeans. Approximately once a month she managed in
catching one of her labia majora in there, an event which really brought tears
to her eyes. She had contemplated shaving her mass of pubic hair, but other
girls said it would only grow back twice as thick. And if she didn't have a
bush, she reasoned, she'd probably catch her cunny-lips in her zipper every
day. They were, she admitted grimly, becoming unnecessarily large.

There was a noise outside the tent, a grunt, and a shadow fell across the tent
flap.

"Zoe? Is that you? Hold on a minute, I'm just putting my jeans on..."

A hoarse groan and a scrabbling noise, then the tent shook as a heavy body
fell over one of the guy ropes.

"Gordon! You little brat, were you spying on me again?" She yelled the last
words a little too loud and wondered if Daddy had heard. Emma listened as her
younger brother picked himself up and scampered away, no doubt to the men's
toilets. Gordon spent a generous proportion of his day in the bathroom, in
sessions of twenty minutes at a time.

Emma rose to her haunches and slipped her feet into her sandals. She could
just about get them on without needing to adjust the straps.

Another noise outside, someone fumbling with the tent flap.

"Gordon, I told you to piss off and leave me alone!" she hissed.

"Em? Is that you? It's me!"

"Zoe?" Emma reached up and yanked the zipper down. Her friend's silhouette
blotted out the sun.

"Wow, Em! The ol' tit-fairy's certainly been working overtime! Are you coming
out or shall I come in?" Zoe bent down and put her head inside. "On second
thoughts, it stinks of pussy in here. Come outside and let me have a look at
you." A strong hand offered itself and Emma found herself being heaved
effortlessly out of her tent into the fresh air. "So, who's this guy Gordon,
then? Expecting mixed company on your first morning at Brownwater Sands?"

"He's my brother, silly!"

"That's all right, you can tell me your sordid family secrets."

"I thought he was spying on me again. He's always doing it at home. He'll have
run off to the toilet to play with himself."

"Ah, I thought I half recognised him. Tallish boy, curly hair? Holding his
crotch? I passed him on the path. I hope he made it in time, he looked 'sif he
might have left it too late." Zoe looked Emma up and down. "Mind you, I can
see his point. I thought I'd grown a decent pair, but yours are absolutely
incredible!"

Zoe had stood back a few paces to take in Emma's gigantic bust. It was Emma's
turn to gasp. Her friend, who had always been powerfully built, statuesque and
strikingly attractive, was now quite simply stacked!

"Looks like we both have a secret we promised not to talk about to anyone,"
Zoe said softly.

"Looks like it," said Emma.

"It's gonna be a scorcher, the weather man says. Why don't you grab your
bikini and we'll hit the beach at say, ten thirty? That will give you a chance
to scoff one of your mum's breakfasts..."

"But my Mum's not here this year. Daddy's camp cook. It's just him and Gordon
and Valerie and me... bikini? How can I wear a bikini with these?"

"You can't sit on the beach in jeans and a T-shirt, can you! Same old Em! You
have got your bikini with you, I hope?"

"Well, yeah, but I daren't wear it. My bra-lady made it for me but I look
obscene..."

"You've tried it on, then?"

Emma blushed. "Just once, in my bedroom..."

"I bet Gordon was watching! Was he?"

"Of course he wasn't!"

"Let's ask him, shall we!"

At that moment Gordon appeared along the path from the toilets, carrying a
towel in front of him. He slowed down. His eyes bulged as he took in the sight
of the two girls.

"Hi, Gord!" Zoe called cheerily. "I see you didn't make it in time, then?
Never mind, you can have another wank later. Em's going to wear her bikini,
just for you!"

"Zo, stop it!"

"Have you ever seen Emma in her bikini, Gord?"

"Only a few times," he admitted, hanging his head.

"Shame on you, boy! Lusting after your own sister!"

Gordon made a croaking noise and fled to the family tent.

"Right here at ten thirty!" said Zoe grimly. "In your bikini. The one you only
dared to try on once!" She turned and stalked away in the direction of her
tent, then stopped five yards away for a double take. "Valerie? Who's
Valerie?"

"My little cousin. I have to look after her."

Miss Twizzell must have made Emma's bikini as a joke or for a bet. Surely she
didn't expect her to wear it in public? Emma began praying for rain so she
could wear a mac and cover herself up. The sun continued to beat down on the
roof of her tent. Up there, Somebody wasn't listening. Typical.

To make matters worse, no sooner had Emma wriggled into her sinful swimwear
than little cousin Valerie's bulky shape appeared, hovering in the doorway of
the tent. She was pressing herself against the tent pole that went up the
middle of the door, with one very plump breast on each side.

"Why you lying on your back, Emma? Can't you get up? That happens to sheep,
you know!"

"I am not a sheep, Valerie."

"Woodlice, then," the girl suggested. "Or tortoises. Or turtles..."

"What are you blathering on about, Valerie?"

"I don't know."

"Go away, then. I'm putting my swimsuit on."

"I can't go away. Uncle George and Gordon went out and they wouldn't take me
with them. You have to look after me all day so's I don't get into trouble.
Are we going to the beach? I want to meet some boys!"

"Boys? At your age?" Too late, Emma tried to stop herself.

"I've had loads and loads and loads of boyfriends," the appalling child
boasted. "Haven't you?"

"Of course I have!"

"Gordon said you're still a virgin."

"I'll kill that little brat! He doesn't know anyway. How would he know?"

"I don't know how he knows, Em. I thought you must've told him." Valerie's
voice dropped a few decibels, to a subdued roar. "He showed me his knob last
night."

"Sssshhh! He what?"

"In the tent, after Uncle George had gone to bed. Gordon got up to go to the
loo, and when he got back he came into my room instead of his own. So we had
to be very quiet, of course, but I asked him to show me it and he did."

Emma closed her eyes.

"Don't you want to know how big it is?"

"Of course I don't! He's my little brother!"

"Little? I don't think so..."

Valerie moved away from the door and performed a few private little heavy-
footed dance steps. Emma opened her eyes in time to see a display of lewd
hip-wiggling. She shut them again and heaved her bikini pants up as far as
they would go. She couldn't do any more to cover up her bosom but she could
try and hide the worst excesses of her pudenda before venturing outside. She
parted her breasts with both hands and peered down between them, trying to
see. Lying on her back, it wasn't easy. There'd be tons of pubes and
everything hanging out, she was sure.

Valerie returned to the door. "Sh'll I put my swimmies on, Em, if we're going
to the beach?"

"If you like," said Emma dully.

"What time we going?"

"Half past ten. When Zoe comes."

"Gordon says Zoe's got huge tits. Nowhere near as big as yours, of course, but
still huge. He wants to fuck her, he said."

"Valerie!"

"I'm only telling you what he told me."

"Don't you dare mention it to Zoe!"

Valerie laughed, an infuriating little tinkle. "Okay. I'll put my swimsuit on
now. Don't go without me."

Zoe's mood seemed a little less thunderous when she arrived five minutes
later. "You all ready, Em?"

Emma looked out of the door of her tent. "Are you sure it isn't going to
rain?"

"There isn't a cloud in the sky. Come on out and let's see this new 'kini of
yours. Did it come from Discoveries?"

Emma was surprised. "How did you know?"

"I recognised the colour. Apparently they bought a job lot of material and
it's so useless all they can do is make bikinis out of it. So they make them
and give them away as goodwill presents for their customers."

"How do you know? Do you get your bras from Discoveries, too?"

"Of course. There's a branch in Bath. I work there on Saturday mornings."

"You work at Discoveries?"

"Yeah. So when I looked on the computer at work and saw that you'd been buying
bras... again... and you'd got a new free bikini, I thought, hello! I bet Em's
going to Brownwater Sands again!"

"Oh."

"Come on, then! We've got loads to talk about." Zoe heaved Emma out into the
open. "Fucking hell! Those are fucking monsters!"

"You've already seen my boobs once this morning, Zo. They're no bigger now
than they were two hours ago."

"They weren't bursting out of a bikini two hours ago. Actually, though, it
wasn't your boobs I was talking about. It was your flaps."

"My what?"

"Down here," Zoe said, and Emma felt strong, cool fingers at work around the
front of her pants. "Half your cunny's hanging out."

"Zoe, that's filthy!"

Zoe sniffed at her fingers. "No, it's not too bad. I've smelt worse. But you'd
better let me tuck your love-lips away before we go anywhere. And it might be
safer if you bring the biggest towel you've got."

"We can't go anywhere yet. We're waiting for Valerie."

"Who? Oh, you mean that kid cousin of yours. Why can't you get Gordon to look
after her?"

Emma paled at the thought of what those two might get up to if left alone all
day. "Gordon's gone out with Dad. Valerie wants to come to the beach and meet
some boys. We've got to make sure she doesn't get into trouble."

"Boys? I thought you said she was only a kid..." Zoe's voice tailed off and
she was looking over Emma's shoulder. "Em. Tell me... tell me that's not..."

Emma turned round, her blood running cold. Then it ran colder. "Valerie!"

"You mean it is? You said she was a kid, Em!"

"She is."

"I can see what you mean about her getting into trouble. That bikini's fucking
obscene!"

"I didn't know she had a bikini. I thought she was too fat for a bikini."

"She is, Em! Look at that belly! That bum! Look at them!"

Emma looked at Valerie as she closed the family tent and stood upright,
plucking a towel off the clothes line and tossing it around her neck as she
sashayed the ten yards towards the two friends. She smirked up at Emma, and
higher up at Zoe.

"I'm ready, Em. Hi, Zoe."

"Zoe, this is my little cousin Valerie."

"Little? I don't think so!"

"What do you think of my swimsuit?" Valerie asked, performing a twirl.

"Where's the rest of it?"

"That's what my dad said when I showed it to him before I left home. I didn't
dare show my mum."

"I'm not surprised. It's a disgrace."

"You're showing more than me," Valerie pouted, her eyes starting at Emma's
cleavage and drifting significantly downwards.

Emma felt suddenly unsure of herself. She wasn't sure how successful Zoe had
been at tucking away the overflowing contents of her pants. She turned away,
wrapped the towel around her shoulders and set off down the path. Zoe caught
up in a couple of strides and Valerie plodded on behind.

"She's hanging out of that thing, Em!" Zoe whispered. "You can see everything
she's got, and she's got tons! If she doesn't get pregnant she'll get
arrested! You probably will, as well," she added as an afterthought. "Your dad
will come back tonight and find you've all been locked up for your own
protection."

"This is crazy," said Emma. "Why do I have to wear a bikini?"

"Because, that's why. What I want to know is, how are we going to get any
boy-action while that little slut of a cousin is parading around in a grand
total of six square inches of bright pink polyester?"

"You're not... God, Zo! You look fantastic! Boys aren't going to look at my
little cousin while you're around!"

"You want to bet? They're going to be all over her like flies round a pile of
dog-shit."

Emma shook her head. Surely Zoe wasn't having a crisis of confidence as well?
Not Zoe, who last year could have had her pick of the boys on any beach; who
this year packed a pair of honeydew melons in her straining bra?

They set up camp at the edge of the dunes. Fifty yards away, a group of boys
were playing with a football. After ten seconds or so, the game started
drifting in their direction.

"Here they come," said Zoe. "They're some of the same ones as last year. Can't
see your Pooch, though."

"Oh." Emma pulled the towel over her loins. "He's not my Pooch!" she insisted.

"Who's Pooch?" Valerie enquired. "Is he their dog?" She had disposed herself
on her tummy on the sand and untied the string of her bra. The mounds of her
surprisingly plump breasts swelled out to the sides. Her intimidating backside
wobbled. She drew one leg upwards and scratched her crotch with one hand. Then
she left the leg and the hand where they were, idly fondling herself.

Emma and Zoe tore their eyes away.

"It's obscene!" Zoe whispered.

"I can't help it, she's only my cousin."

"Yeah, but..."

The ball came bouncing over, followed by a boy.

"Oh, God!" Zoe burrowed into her towel. "It's Paul! Don't let him see me!"

"Hi, gurls!" The boy retrieved the ball and picked his way between the bodies,
all lying belly down on the sand. "Hey, I know you from las' yurr, don' I?
Zoe? We played rugby, remember?"

Trapped, Zoe looked up. "I can't remember... did we? I guess we must've done
if you say so."

Emma was shocked. "You slept with him, Zo!" she hissed.

Valerie turned her head for the first time. "Who slept with who?" she demanded
in ringing tones, making the rest of the boys pay attention where they hung
around in a group twenty yards away. "Oh, wow! Who's this, Em? Aren't you
going to introduce us?"

"This is Paul," said Emma helplessly.

Paul looked pleased and puzzled at the same time. He had been remembered by
Emma, whom he hadn't slept with, and forgotten by Zoe, whom he had. Now this
little fat kid with the huge arse was interested in him. He gulped, unable to
believe what he was seeing.

Valerie had rolled on to her side and rested on one elbow, leaving her bikini
top resting on the sand. Her chubby face grinned up at him, but he wasn't
really looking at her face.

"This is my little cousin Val..." Emma started to say, but she wasn't looking
at her face either.

"Hi, V... Val," Paul stammered, not making eye contact.

"It's Valerie. And my eyes are up here."

"Sorry. I was l... looking at..."

"Take a proper look then, why don't you?" And Valerie rolled over and got up
on to her knees, thrusting out her bare chest.

"Bloody 'ell!" said Paul inadequately.

Twenty yards away, all conversation ceased. Paul, it seemed, had scored.

Emma and Zoe lay resolutely on their tummies, squinting sideways at Valerie.

"You playing football?" the girl asked Paul.

"Yeah."

"C'n I play with you?"

"'F'you like." Paul was pretty certain none of his mates would object. But he
thought he'd better extend the invitation. "Emma n' Zoe can come an' play if
they want..."

"They'd be no good," said Valerie, standing up and brushing the sand from her
plump belly. "Their tits are miles too big!"

She extracted the ball from Paul's grasp and bounced it on the sand. It fell
with a thud and stayed there. She bent over and picked it up, then tossed it
to Paul.

"Come on, then, I'm ready!"

Paul looked horrified. "What about your... ain't you gonna wear your... I
mean, your b... b... boobs are hanging out!"

"I don't mind if you don't," said Valerie. She scampered off down the beach in
a shower of sand, the boys following slowly behind, not really sure if this
was happening.

It was.

Twenty minutes later, Emma and Zoe looked glumly at the impromptu game which
now boasted at least thirty boys and three exhilarated dogs.

"It's a wonder she hasn't got laid already in the middle of a public beach!"
said Zoe, utterly scandalised.

"She's shameless," said Emma. "How can she run around with all those boys with
her fucking boobs hanging out?"

"They are very firm for their size," Zoe remarked.

"They're very big for her age. I'd never really noticed them before, with her
being so... like... plump."

"I'd die if I had a bum that size. But those tits are something else. Have you
ever seen nipples like those?"

"It's not just her nipples," said Emma. "What about those enormous brown
bits!"

"They cover the whole ends!"

"They must be six inches across!"

"At least!"

"I mean, you could see them even when she had her bikini on but I thought they
were some kind of birthmark!"

"And they're like so puffy!" A lengthy silence descended. Zoe folded her arms
across her more than substantial chest. "Em?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you get it much?"

"Get what?"

"You know what! It!"

"It? You mean... like... sex?" Emma felt the blush creeping down into her bra.

"Yeah."

"No," Emma admitted.

"Me neither."

"What, you mean not very often?"

"Not at all! Not ever! I grew these tits after last summer. Well, you know
why...?"

Emma nodded. "The ladies toilets...?"

"Right. We're not allowed to talk about that. But anyway, I grew these things,
and by the looks of it, so did you. By October, I was a 36H cup and I gave
Discoveries a call. You know that Voice thing? I reckon she's on commission
for bra sales. Anyway, by Christmas I was nearly off the scale..."

Emma frowned. "Off the scale?"

"Oh, more than a J-cup, nearly as big as you were before you started growing,
yeah? Anyway, the thing is, I haven't had it with a boy since last August!"

"Oh, Zo!" Emma tried not to sound too overjoyed. Then she had a thought. "Not
with a boy? You've had men?"

"I've had a couple of girls, but they're just not the same."

"No, I suppose they're not, no..."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"How about you?" snapped Zoe impatiently.

"I've been celibate." The word sounded pompous and hi-falutin', but she liked
the sound of it. It had a kind of... official ring to it. 'Emma has been
celibate since... like... practically for ever'.

"Did you do it with those little blokes in the toilet?"

"Oh, come on, Zo!"

"Neither did I. And I didn't do it with Paulie. Not after I'd met those little
blokes."

"And I didn't do it with Pooch."

"What's happened to us, Em?"

"We got enormous tits."

"Yeah, but what good have they done us?"

"You got a job in Discoveries on Saturday mornings."

"It's all day, not just mornings. And they only pay twenty quid plus free
bras."

"The free bras must be worth having. Mine cost hundreds, Mum says."

Zoe watched as the ball bounded away in the general direction of France,
pursued by Valerie, who tripped theatrically over her feet and sprawled in the
sand. She was instantly engulfed by boys.

"Those bras cost them next to nothing to make. I've seen the accounts. They
use ready-made cups and straps and things and just sew them together. She has
the cups made up by women working at home."

"What, even mine?"

"What size are yours?" Zoe asked. Her voice was husky. She licked her lips.
Her cheeks were flushed.

"I don't know," Emma admitted. "I know when I wear a bra... like dressing up?
My bust is..." she lowered her voice "... seventy-six."

Zoe gasped. "I'm only fifty! You're massive compared to me!" She pressed her
thighs together. One hand was out of sight, rubbing away.

Emma pressed on. "Of course, I get bigger when my period comes round, you
know?"

Zoe knew. She moaned.

"So my bras have to be specially strong to hold me in. It's the same when I
get... like... aroused."

"Aroused?"

"Yeah. Hot."

"Hot? And wet?"

"Sopping wet, Zo."

"Fucking hell, Em! I'm soaked! Can't you smell it?"

"Not from over here."

"Jee-zus!"

They sat there on their towels, thighs not quite touching, inconceivably
horny. Down by the edge of the water, the tide was coming in. The pile of boys
dismantled itself and Valerie emerged from underneath. They all backed away
from the oncoming waves, then the chubby topless girl set off at a bouncing
run along the edge of the sand. The dogs chased after her, barking.

"I'll tell you what," said Zoe.

"What?"

"If I saw those two blokes again..."

"Tharg and Blorp, you mean?"

"You remembered their names! You sure you didn't...?"

"I didn't!"

"If I ever thought I'd see them again, I'd find out what they did wrong, for
sure."

"What makes you think they did something wrong, Zo?"

"What? What makes you think they did anything right?"

Emma thought about it. The aliens hadn't been the most successful crew. The
Voice was forever having to nag the two little guys. They'd kidnapped the
wrong girl. It should have been Zoe. They got Emma.

"They screwed up," said Zoe. "It stands to reason. We suddenly got these huge
tits, but we haven't had a sniff of cock since! I'd sort those bastards out if
I got my hands on them. They could have these fucking tits back!"

Emma thought about that radical statement for a while. A seventy-six inch bust
was possibly a little excessive, after all. Maybe she could give them back a
couple of feet or so...

"She's coming back," said Zoe, nodding towards Valerie who was walking slowly
backwards up through the soft sand followed by thirty boys and three dogs. All
thirty-three of them seemed to know what they wanted. Make that thirty-four.

"I need a pee," said Emma, struggling to her feet and wrapping the towel round
her. "Look after Valerie 'til I get back." She grabbed her bag and her
sandals.

"Me? Look after that little slut? How?"

"God knows. Just stop her getting pregnant for the next twenty minutes."

"Okay. Come here a minute." Emma stepped closer to her friend, who sat up and
peered into the folds of the beach towel. "Closer!" She felt Zoe's hands
brushing the heavy undersides of her bra cups, lifting her right breast a few
inches, delving underneath and pulling up the pants more snugly. Strong
fingers stroked themselves confidently across the hot, meaty wriggly bulge of
her moist pudenda. "You'll do. But you'd better keep that lot covered up, just
to be on the safe side."

Emma was alarmed. "I'm not showing anything, am I?"

"Not while you're wrapped in the biggest beach towel ever produced. Go and
have your pee. Enjoy. I quite need one myself but maybe I'll be able to pluck
up the courage to go in the sea."

That was rather more detail than Emma needed to know. She left the scene,
wobbling heavily up the pathway to the road. She only looked back once as she
stepped into her sandy sandals, to see Zoe sitting there hugging her knees. A
few yards away, Valerie was engaged in what could only be described as heavy
petting with an unidentified boy. She was on top with her heavy breasts
dangling in his disbelieving face, and she was still wearing only the lower
half of her bikini. At least, Emma assumed she was still wearing it. The rest
of the boys and the dogs had started a token game of football but you could
tell they were only passing the time until their turn came around.

The permanent brick-built edifice which housed the Brownwater Sands toilets
was closed again for repairs. Or was it still closed from last year? There
were no signs of builders or plumbers at work and the thick layer of dust and
sand round the door suggested that it hadn't been opened for months. Emma set
off down the road.

"This is what started it all last year," she muttered to herself. "Bloody
temporary toilets, aliens, stonking great tits so big I can hardly walk and a
plump little cousin who is currently servicing the only available thirty boys
on the Dorset coast." She stepped up the pace, hugging the towel tighter round
her middle. Still another two hundred yards. She stopped. At the side of the
road was a ramshackle building with a faded sign advertising Bicycles For
Hire. But it was no ordinary bike that had attracted Emma's attention. It was
a four-wheeled machine with a bench seat for two riders to sit side by side.
She ambled across, wondering if she might dare borrow it to ride down the hill
to the toilets. She'd be there in half a minute.

"Pound fer 'aalf a day," piped a just-about-male voice, and a youth came out
of the shack and looked her up and down. Emma wrapped herself in the suddenly
transparent towel.

"Which half? It's nearly twelve o'clock."

"You can 'ave it for a pound 'til we closes. Special offer 'cause I likes the
look of yer."

Emma fished in her purse and produced a pound coin. It disappeared into the
boy's pocket.

"Just you, is it? It's a two-seater. Where's your boyfriend?"

Emma waved down the hill somewhere. "He's down there."

"You'll need two of you to do the pedallin' when you comes back up the 'ill.
She's 'eavy. Get on board and I'll show you how it works."

She sat on the bum-polished wooden plank which formed the seat. Her need for a
pee was becoming urgent. "It's only a bike! I push the pedals, right? And
steer with the handlebars?"

"I didn't think you'd'a bin able to ride a bike, not with them things." The
boy was hovering close, peering down into the towel at the first foot or so of
Emma's cleavage. "Jee-zus!" he said in genuine admiration.

"How do I stop it?" said Emma, already pushing at the pedals to get herself
away.

He was standing on the seat, bending over her, holding on insolently with one
hand. "You pedal backwards. Push backwards on the pedals. It'll be a while
before much 'appens but it'll stop in the end."

"Thanks." She didn't try the brakes in case they worked.

The boy leapt off and trotted alongside for a few yards. "Is that all you in
there?" he asked.

"Of course not. I'm wearing falsies."

He dropped behind as the machine gathered momentum. It was like riding one of
those pedal operated boat things. You sat on this bench, leaning backwards,
and the pedals were unnaturally high up so your knees were kind of pumping up
and down in front. As Emma's breasts occupied the whole of her lap, they were
being alternately squashed by her thighs on each rotation of the pedals. It
wasn't entirely unpleasant. The bike was up to speed, the sea breeze in her
hair. Life was reasonably good, as long as she reached the toilet sometime in
the next three minutes.

She wheeled round in a circle outside the entrance to the temporary toilet
trailer and screeched to an eventual halt after almost standing on the pedal.
One of the back wheels locked and the contraption slid to a standstill in a
cloud of dust. Then she dismounted and hurried for the steps.

It was the same trailer, or one exactly like it. If there'd been a choice,
Emma wouldn't have gone near it. She envied Zoe, who felt sufficiently at ease
with herself to piss in the sea. But commonsense prevailed as she mounted the
steps and opened the door. If this were an alien spaceship, the many thousands
of women who used it as a public convenience would by now be wobbling around
the streets with tits down to their tummies and beyond. In Emma's case, well
beyond. Okay, she'd stumbled across some aliens last year, and so had Zoe. It
had happened, but it wasn't going to happen again. It was an unfortunate
passage in history. It was behind her. She had moved on.

She backed into one of the cubicles and hung her towel on the hook on the back
of the door.

She gruntingly pulled down her panties.

She sat down with a feeling of tremendous relief.

Time passed.

She stood up, plucked a few sheets of tissue from the roll.

She wiped her front bottom, working entirely by feel.

She pulled up her panties, stuffed everything out of sight, grabbed her towel
and stepped out into the anteroom where a long mirror ran along the back of a
row of three washbasins. Hoisting her untidy bra-load of wobbling tit with her
forearm she inspected her panties. God, what a sight! Blushing fiercely she
pushed and prodded the stray flesh of her - what had Zoe called them? - her
flaps, into the totally inadequate pants.

"Fuck's sake, get in and stay in," she told them.

At that exact moment, the door burst open and a large, perspiring woman came
in, dragging an improbable number of children, all apparently four years old.
She shoved six of them into the three cubicles then leaned against the wall.
"Bleedin' kids!" she gasped. Then in the mirror she caught sight of Emma's
front view and her eyes bulged.

With a profusion of pussy lips and pubic hair spilling from her pants, Emma
realised she was not really in a presentable state. She did the only thing
possible, jerking her arm away from beneath her breasts and allowing them to
subside on to her belly where they would hide the appalling spectacle. It was
a sound plan, as far as it went. A view of eighteen inches of cleavage was
preferable to a shot of the unruly surroundings of Emma's vagina.
Unfortunately, she lowered her breasts a shade too suddenly. They plunged
downwards, leaving the bra cups to ride uselessly upwards. Her nipples now
danced obscenely somewhere below her upper thighs. Emma could see the woman
gaping at her reflection in the mirror so she whirled away from it. The woman
now had a much better, full-frontal view.

Naturally, being a well-bred woman, she screamed.

The six children came tumbling out of the three cubicles and clustered round
their shocked mother, aunt or whatever, staring with wide eyes at this young
lady with the simply enormous pair of tits hanging out. This, they decided,
was something you didn't see every day. This was without doubt the highlight
of their morning. They left reluctantly, pestering the shell-shocked woman
with questions.

"Fuck!" said Emma as their whining voices died away. Belatedly she picked up
her towel and draped it around her shoulders.

"Sorry about that, Emma!" said a voice. Or was it a Voice?

Oh, no! Not that!

Two sets of lightweight footsteps came clattering up the steps and in at the
door.

"The boys needed a pee," the Voice explained. "They insist on going next door
to the Gents. I worry about them sometimes, you know."

Chastened, the boys - Tharg and Blorp - moved to the washbasins and washed
their hands. They looked at Emma's breasts furtively. Then they used the
hot-air hand driers and began moving around, tidying up, wiping up drops of
water and exclaiming in high-pitched dismay at the unflushed toilets in the
three cubicles.

"Nice tits, Emma," the Voice congratulated her. "You know, I must confess I
thought we'd possibly got a problem with your bust, with it being so big
before we started and everything, but it's turned out quite well, even though
I do say so myself. When's your period, by the way?"

"Last week."

"Oh, well, you win some, you lose some. How about your sex life? Everything
going okay in the sack? I caught a quick glimpse of your cunt just now.
Tremendous!"

"I'm glad you think so!"

"The boys would like a look at it, I'm sure. Come on, pull your titties aside
and let's see what you've got."

"No!"

"Oh, suit yourself," said the Voice. The aliens' shoulders slumped and they
moved gloomily away. "How's that friend of yours? Zoe, wasn't it?"

"You made hers bigger as well."

"Her cunt?" the Voice cried delightedly. "Oooh, whoopee!"

"Not her... her vagina. Her... boobs. They're about an L cup now."

"Excellent! I heard she's got a job in a bra shop, too, so she's doing well
for herself. Free bras and everything..."

"And no sex."

"What?"

"No sex! Neither of us has had a boyfriend since this time last year. We've
been absolutely celibate!"

"You Brit girls do exaggerate! You miss out on a date or two, you go a week or
so without getting laid, and you're describing yourselves as celibate."
Silence for a few seconds. "Oh, shit! You're serious?"

Emma nodded. She was trying to load her bra again, without displaying her
pussy to the little men - and to the Voice, wherever her eyes might be.

"Let me get this straight. We paid you for the error of our staff, okay? You
had a pair of fucking L-cup tits and we gave you the smallest ones we could.
More or less. Soon afterwards, we corrected our staff's error and brought Zoe
in. We gave Zoe a nice pair, making her life perfect. Right so far?"

"Not exactly, but okay."

"But since then, instead of both of you getting full and active sex lives,
you're saying you haven't had any hot cock since? Haven't you even tried?"

"Of course we've fucking tried!" Emma stormed, stamping her foot. Her tits
fell out again and she burst into tears. To her surprise, Blorp and Tharg came
close and hugged her gently and thoughtfully. Even more to her surprise, she
hugged them back. Beneath their shiny suits their little cocks became hard.

"That's enough of that, lads, get back to cleaning those cubicles. Now, Emma,
it looks like a software problem. I'm sure we can get it sorted out before you
go home. Okay? We'll see you again on Friday week, same place. Pay Emma, will
you, Tharg..."

"Pay me? You don't mean...?"

"Of course! How else can we pay you?"

Emma shook her head vigorously and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I
don't need paying. Look, let me go and I'll come back here on Friday week when
you've got the software working."

"If you're sure that's all right? We shouldn't let you go without paying you.
You'd look terrific with tits down to your ankles..."

"No, no! I've got used to them this size. You'll need to see Zoe as well?
She's not getting any sex either."

"The two of you can come along together. We'll make sure we're in here so the
public won't be able to get in. See you in ten... eleven days' time, then."

"Yeah. Erm, could the boys help with my bra, please?"

"I'm sure they would!"

Ten minutes later, wrapped in her towel and feeling snug both above and below
the waist, Emma went carefully down the steps and eased her bottom on to the
seat of the four-wheeled bike. She leaned back and closed her eyes. There was
still a lump in her throat and her eyelids stung with the recent tears.

"Em? Is that you?"

She looked up. "Pooch?"

"You remembered my name," he said, blushing.

"You weren't playing down there with the others this morning," she said
pointing back up the hill to where the road ran along the top of the sand
dunes.

"I had to do some chores for my dad. Are you here on your own?"

"Zoe's on the beach. And my little cousin," she added bitterly.

"Little boys can cramp your style," Pooch laughed.

"Valerie's a girl. They can cramp your style as well."

"You going back that way?"

"Yeah, hop on. You can help me pedal this thing back up the hill."

"Nice bike," he laughed. "A bit big for just one girl, I'd have thought."

"I needed to get to the loo in a hurry so I hired it for the afternoon. Only a
pound." The bike described a wobbly semicircle and headed slowly up the hill.

Emma could feel Pooch's eyes sneaking towards her bust as her thighs went up
and down. She didn't care if he looked. The bike slowed down.

"Wow, hot work!" he puffed. He looked - she had to admit - quite shaggable in
his shiny pale blue shorts and white T-shirt. There was a small rucksack slung
over his shoulder. He took off his white baseball cap, wiped his brow and put
it back on again. He looked quizzically at Emma's beach towel. "Are you cold,
Em?"

"It's a cool breeze," she said desperately, dashing a drop of sweat from the
end of her nose.

"You could take that towel off. You are wearing something underneath?"

"My bikini."

"Wow!" he said weakly.

The gradient eased momentarily as they passed the bicycle hire shop then
continued up the hill. The boy waved to them before disappearing back inside
his shack to do whatever he did all day. Fifty yards later they came to a halt
at the side of the road. It kind of happened by mutual agreement.

"It is a cool breeze," Emma repeated.

"The sun's hot, though. Drink of water?" He opened his rucksack. The bottle
was one of those sports things with a self-sealing cap. "It's best if you give
it a squeeze and suck hard," he told her.

Emma sniggered, and water spilled down her chin and down the front of the
towel. "Oops! It's cold!" Without thinking, she pulled the towel open and
dabbed at her cleavage with a corner of it.

"Here, let me..."

Emma thought about it for a microsecond. She let him. Why not? He was dabbing
gently at the upper slopes of her breasts with the towel, gradually pulling
the two halves further apart. She sat back and closed her eyes. It had gone
very quiet. It occurred to Emma that this was the first time any boy had seen
her breasts since they reached this size. True, he hadn't seen more than the
first twelve inches or so of them but she knew what she meant. Pooch cleared
his throat.

"You don't need to say anything," she warned him softly.

"There's nothing I could say. I'd forgotten how lovely your breasts were."

Oh, shit, Emma thought. He used the 'B' word. He'd changed in a year! He
wasn't the only one. "They're a bit bigger than they were."

"I thought so. I mean, they were huge last year, but..."

She swallowed. "Some of the water went a bit further down. In between my...
breasts!"

"Down here?"

"Yeah. Only lower."

"You mean down here?"

"Lower than that. Much lower!"

"I'm down to your belly button already!"

"They reach down a long way past that!"

"God, Emma!"

"You can pull the bra up, if you like. Just pull, and they'll fall out."

Like a good boy, Pooch did as he was told.

"They did!"

"Silly! Of course they did!"

"Shit, Emma, they're enormous!"

"Tell me something I don't know, Pooch!"

"They're beautiful, though! But how can you walk?"

"With difficulty."

"How big are they?"

"You should know, you've got your sweaty mitts all over them."

"You know what I mean! What size...?"

"How much do you know about bra sizes?"

Pooch blushed. "Not much. You mean D cups and stuff?"

"Sort of. You remember Zoe last year?"

He was still blushing. "Yeah."

"She was about a 36B, right?"

"Right, if you say so. But what about you...?"

"I'm coming to that. I was bigger. A 32L."

Pooch frowned, perplexed. "Thirty-two isn't bigger than thirty-six."

"Yes, but L is a whole load bigger than B. Zoe was about a thirty-eight inch
bust, because she's a big girl and she's got a big strong back.

"Yeah, that game of rugby we had! Some of the boys played with themselves for
the rest of the week after that."

Emma raised an eyebrow at him but his face was innocent. "You remember how
much I wobbled and bounced when I tried to run? Well, my bust was forty-six
inches. Was."

"Were?"

"Was. Were. Whatever."

"No, I mean, you were that size last year. What happened?"

"We grew, of course. Both of us."

"But girls don't just grow! Not that much."

"I haven't told you how much."

"You don't need to. You're miles bigger than last year. How much bigger?"

"Zoe's about forty-eight now..."

"Yeah...?"

"And I'm... seventy-six."

"Fucking hell! A girl with a seventy-six inch bust!"

"At least seventy-six. It gets bigger."

"Not bigger than seventy-six?"

"They're bigger than usual now."

"Even bigger than seventy-six? Why?"

"Because you're playing with them and because I'm horny as fuck!"

"Horny? But you're a girl."

"I'm glad you noticed." His hand had strayed on to one of her nipples and she
was sure it was at least as big as a cocktail sausage. She half twisted her
upper body towards him. "Pooch, I really need you to do something else. It's
just so if we're going to be extra special bestest friends for the next two
weeks, I need you to know something."

Pooch's voice shook. "Yeah? What do you want me to do?"

Emma said nothing. She took his hand and guided it between her tits and down
her soft belly until it encountered the first crinkly hairs spreading out of
the top of her bikini pants. On downward, and inside.

Emma made a stately progress down the path to the beach. One of the boys was
the first to see her.

"Fucking shit!" he yelped.

Emma continued until she reached Zoe and sat down. Her friend was clearly not
amused.

"What happened? You said you'd be twenty minutes, not an hour and a half. And
where's your towel?"

"Pooch has got it. He's tying up the bike."

"What bike? Why is he tying up a bike?"

"We can't bring it down here, it's too heavy. It's one of those four- wheeled
things with two seats."

"You bought a bike? You only went for a piss!"

"I hired the bike to get down to the loos in town. It was that temporary one
again? You know? That one?"

Zoe stared at Emma's mighty cleavage. "You mean, that one?"

"That one!"

"Were they...?"

"Yes, but they didn't do anything. I told them about... you know?"

"I know?"

"About... sex an' stuff. The Voice? She said it sounded like a software
problem."

"No shit!"

"I only went for a pee, Zo."

Zoe giggled. "So are they going to do anything about it?"

"They want to see us on the Friday before we go home. Anyway, I got out of
there without them doing anything to me. And then I met Pooch outside." She
lowered her voice and whispered into Zoe's ear. "He's borrowed my towel
because he... in his pants."

"He did what? A piss? Not a poo!"

"No, he... like, cummed."

"Came?"

"Cummed. Came."

"Wow, Em! What were you doing?"

"Just talking. He was playing with my boobs a bit, then I put his hand in my
pants. Then he cummed."

"You don't waste any time, do you?" said Zoe with deep respect.

"I did meet him a year ago," said Emma.

"Yeah, but... talk about picking up where you left off! It kind of proves
something, though, doesn't it?"

"What's that?"

"This software problem of theirs? It's still working. You're parked up on the
dunes with your boyfriend, you shove his hand up your pants..."

"Down my pants. His hand was down between my boobs and I put it into my pants
from the top."

"Is it important, Emma? The point is, he had his hand in your pants..."

"With his thumb on my clittie..."

"Em!"

"And four fingers right up inside me..."

"For fuck's sake, Emma! Will you listen?"

"What?"

"He was doing all that, and you still didn't get laid!"

"I'm not sure if I cared. The earth moved anyway."

Zoe looked at her friend's face. "Yeah, I guess it probably did."

They sat in silence for several extremely moist moments.

Eventually Emma noticed someone was missing. "Where's young Fatso?"

"Valerie? She's off with some boy." Zoe consulted a piece of paper with pencil
marks on it. "Her third."

"She's been... you haven't been letting her... fuck them?"

"I don't know what she's been doing with them, do I? She takes them over there
behind that sandbank. They look tired when she brings them back. Tired but
happy."

"God, Zo, what if we get her pregnant? My mum will crucify me when we get
home!"

"Your mum's not here?"

"No, I told you she stayed at home. Would you believe, about a year ago Mum
and Daddy started getting all lovey-dovey and she got pregnant. She's just had
two little baby girls."

"God, it's so embarrassing when grown-ups have sex. What are they trying to
prove? Anyway, if your Valerie gets pregnant, it won't be us that does it. It
will be one of these boys. Or one of these horny beach dogs."

At that moment Pooch came sauntering down the path with the towel draped
casually across the front of his shorts. He greeted some of the boys with a
wave and sat down beside Emma. She felt her tummy melt and her knees turn to
wet string. She lay back with her head on his groin, not caring that her giant
breasts had almost spilled out of her bra. With a gesture of concern for the
environment, Zoe removed Pooch's hat and laid it on Emma's crotch.

Some time later she stirred and opened her eyes. Something had disturbed her
blissful slumbers and it took a moment to realise what it was.

"Mmmm," she purred, shifting her head on Pooch's lap. He was ragingly erect
again.

"Em!"

"We ought to go somewhere private." She raised her head, looked around. Zoe
had gone off somewhere, probably down to the sea for a piss. The footballing
boys were fifty yards away, sitting in a circle and tossing the ball to one
another. The dogs gambolled lazily around in the sunshine. "I wonder where my
cousin is?"

"A kind of fat girl? Not wearing a bra?"

"You've seen her?"

"She went behind that sandbank. With some of the boys."

"We've got to stop her. If she gets pregnant, I'll be history. Come on, help
me up."

"I can't get up just yet, Em..."

She took a close look at his pants. He was rock hard. Because of her, or
because he'd been ogling her topless cousin?" Her fingers stole up the leg of
his shorts.

"Emma! This is a public beach!"

"Let's go somewhere quieter, then!"

"I thought you wanted to stop your cousin getting pregnant?"

"We'll do that first then we'll go somewhere."

"Okay, Em."

"Where did Zoe go?"

"In the sea, a bit further along, away from the seaweed. I see what you meant
about her boobs. I'd like to see her play rugby with those!"

"No wonder you've been sitting there getting a hard-on, Pooch, darling! You've
been gawping at my friend and my little cousin. You always were a sucker for a
big pair of tits!"

"Why should I gawp at them when I've got the biggest pair of tits in the world
right here? Could I have my hat back, please?" Pooch indicated the baseball
cap still covering up her crotch.

"Who put that there?"

"Zoe. She must have thought it looked too naughty."

Not for the first time, Emma realised what a true friend she had in Zoe. She
retrieved the cap, handed it to Pooch and rolled over to face him. "I hope it
doesn't smell too much of hot pussy," she whispered. He was about to put it on
his head, but he paused and sniffed the inside of the cap.

"Nice!" he said.

"You're not just saying that to make me feel good?"

"Of course not!"

She got on to her hands and knees. Even in the bikini bra her breasts occupied
the whole of the space in front of her thighs, and rested heavily in the soft,
warm sand. Her hair hung down like a curtain.

"I want to suck your cock, Pooch," she sighed huskily.

"Why?"

"Because we can't do anything else out here in public, and we can't go back to
the camp site and leave Valerie here." She shuffled closer and lowered her
head.

Pooch didn't seem to know what to do. From his actions, anyone would assume he
didn't have much experience of bikini-clad young girls with seventy-six inch
busts and obscene pubes crawling across beaches offering to give him head.

"You'll need to take it out," she prompted. "Let it come out of the leg of
your shorts. That's right, like that!"

She wriggled closer still, opened her mouth wide and scrunched down into the
sand.

"Oh, wow, Em! That is fantastic! I'm not going to last long!"

"Don't talk," she said indistinctly. She was beginning to wonder if the girls
at school really enjoyed this pastime that they talked about so much. It felt
so big in her mouth, far bigger than when it had been in her hand. How big
would it feel in her pussy? She'd find out later. A thought occurred to her.
If she made it with Pooch, thereby breaking her year-long drought, would she
be able to visit the toilet again, and tell the Voice? 'Thank you very much,
Voice, but your software got better all by itself. I got fucked nine times
last night...' And what about Zoe? She slurped on Pooch's lollipop and decided
that Zoe would just have to make her own arrangements.

"Oh, shit!" said Pooch urgently.

"Darling?"

"They're coming!"

"Cumming?"

"Your little cousin!"

His concern filtered through to her brain. If Valerie was coming back from
wherever she'd been with a bunch of boys, Emma could not simply pull her mouth
off Pooch, leaving him standing there like a wet pink flagstaff.

Pooch evidently had the same thought. "Stay down," he urged, placing a gentle
but insistent hand on the back of her head. Then he began arranging her hair
to cover up the evidence. "They've stopped," he whispered. Stay there and try
not to move."

Emma opened an eye and peeked out from under her hair. She could just see
Valerie about ten yards away with three boys. They couldn't leave her alone.

"Who's going to do my back?" her clear voice rang out. She had a big bottle of
oil and she was shaking it in her fist, the movement transferring itself to
her naked tits. The slut! "I want a volunteer to oil my back," she repeated.
None of the boys looked keen. "Okay. Sam can do it, he's tallest. Jeff and
Benjy, you can do my front between you." No doubt about what her front
included.

"They're going to rub her with oil," whispered Pooch.

The proximity of spectators didn't seem to have made his cock any softer, Emma
thought with a hint of annoyance. He was getting off on the sight of the
topless kid handing out her favours. She sucked extra hard and teased him with
her teeth. If he started spewing cum in her mouth while looking at Valerie,
Emma could easily bite it off for him...

"One titty each, boys!" Valerie cooed. "No need to fight over them, they're
both the same size and plenty big enough. Not like my Sleeping Beauty cousin
over there, the cow!"

The boys glanced nervously in Emma's direction but wouldn't be able to see
anything, just a boy and a girl apparently asleep in a heap on the sand.

"Sam, as you're not getting a titty, you can do all my back, right down into
my pants, okay? You've been trying to get into my pants all day." Sam must
have mumbled something in reply because Valerie laughed piercingly. "We've got
two whole weeks!" she yelled. "You'll all get your turn. At least a dozen
times each. I'll be available the whole time, my period was two weeks ago!"

There was no indication of the boys' reaction to this earth-shaking news.
They'd probably be nauseated at the casual mention of periods. To Emma, it
seemed as if Valerie was making an all-out attempt at getting herself
pregnant.

Meanwhile, the oil bottle had been gravely passed from boy to boy, and they
had taken a brimming handful each and applied it to the sensuously wriggling
girl's hot flesh. After five minutes or so, she gleamed all over, although her
breasts had received at least five generous coats. The unfortunate Sam had
made the most of his instructions by easing Valerie's bikini pants down so he
could apply handfuls of oil to both cheeks of her massive rump at the same
time. She accepted this service gratefully, although she flicked her fingers
at Jeff and Benjy to stop them straying too far south. If bets were being
laid, Emma thought, Sam would now be down to about evens. His cock evidently
thought so; he was hard and throbbing as he massaged the young girl's wondrous
buttocks.

The end came with devastating suddenness, especially for Jeff and Benjy. They
had just taken a fresh handful of oil ready for another go at Valerie's
titties when she dismissed them with an airy wave. "Thanks, boys. See ya
later. C'mon, Sam!"

And with great urgency she took Sam by the hand and galloped off behind her
sandhill. Her spurned suitors looked hopelessly at their oily hands and at
each other, then trudged off in the direction of the footballers.

Emma relaxed and resumed her gentle head-bobbing.

"Did you see any of that?" asked Pooch.

"Any of what?" she asked innocently.

Ten minutes later, Zoe approached from the wrong direction and sat down beside
them. She had a dog with her, and an ice cream.

"Don't mind me," she said. "Oops! I didn't realise you were... I'll go away
and come back in five minutes! Heel, Samson!" She made off at a brisk walk
towards the sea.

Emma raised her head and wiped a dribble of semen from the corner of her
mouth. She had made a conscious decision to join the ranks of the Swallowers.
It seemed altogether less messy than spitting it out.

"It's been like Piccadilly Circus round here," she smiled at him.

"I've never had a blow-job in Piccadilly Circus," he admitted, then bent down
and brushed her hair aside. Then he placed a moist kiss on her lips. It turned
into something altogether more passionate, lasting ten minutes, during which
Zoe and Samson came back and hurriedly left again. At last the lovers sat up,
gently holding one another. Emma loaded her sand-plastered breasts back into
her overloaded top. They felt bigger than ever before, and her nipples were
screamingly erect. Pooch placed his hat over her crotch again.

"We're going to have to do something about this bikini of yours," he said.

"What do you suggest?" she murmured.

"I've got an extra-extra-large rugby shirt and some shorts in my dad's van. We
might be able to do something with the top and a pair of scissors. And we
could cut the shorts down a bit. Not too much, just enough to hide all your
hairs and stuff."

"It's really bad, isn't it?" she blushed. "Everything about me is so...
like... huge!"

"Shall we go and do it now?"

"Do what?"

"Make the shirt fit you."

"We can't walk out on Zoe again. And we ought to do something about Valerie. I
think she's getting seriously fucked this time."

But before they could get up and investigate little cousin's hyperactive
sex-life, there were sounds of disturbance; raised voices and excited barking.
Seconds later, Sam appeared at a gallop, racing off down the beach to the sea,
pursued by an excited Samson. He had his shorts in his hand.

A few more seconds later, Zoe trudged into view around the side of Valerie's
sandbank with the sexpot herself in tow. The girl's oily body was crusted with
sand. She was evidently not happy.

"I caught them at it," Zoe explained as she slumped down on the sand. "While
you were busy."

"Thanks, Zo," said Emma, reaching out and touching the back of her friend's
hand.

Valerie stood sullenly a couple of yards away.

"You'd better go in the water and wash all that sand off, girl," Emma told
her.

"I can't swim," Valerie admitted.

"Emma and me'll take care of you," said Pooch, getting to his feet.

"I can't go down there in my bikini!" Emma protested.

"Okay, Zoe and me."

Zoe was up for it. Brightening, she got up and accompanied Pooch and the
reluctant girl down to the foaming brine. The trio paused at the water's edge,
then the much shorter but noticeably wider figure, flanked by her elders and
betters, tiptoed into the water.

Emma dreamed about sex for a few blissful minutes. The future seemed brighter
than it had for some time. There was a kind of inevitability about it; she and
Pooch would almost certainly be sleeping together that very night, although
'sleeping' was probably not quite the right word. The thought made her
deliciously wet.

Pooch, Valerie and Zoe were coming out of the water, the young girl acting her
real age for a change; stamping a petulant foot on the firm sand until her
guardians jerked at her hands and pulled her up the beach.

"They made me wet," she protested, pouting and placing her fists on her hips
as soon as she arrived on the scene.

"You'd better put your bra back on," said Emma.

"Why?"

"We're going down town."

"What for?"

"I need to go down there with Pooch, and I'm not letting you out of my sight
any more."

Valerie was silent for a while. "Will there be any boys down there?"

"There are usually," Pooch confirmed.

"Oh, good!" said Zoe drily. "Maybe I'll get some action myself."

Valerie shook the sand out of her bra and loaded her fat tits into it. Her
areolae were an inch bigger than the cups all round. If anything she looked
about three times as rude as when she'd been topless.

Emma accepted a hand from Pooch, stood up and tied her towel round her waist,
which was hiding somewhere behind her bust. She was pleased to see Valerie's
expression change to envy. So, the kid wanted a seventy-six inch bust, did
she? Well, eat your heart out, cousin!

They all plodded away up the path to the top of the dunes. Behind them the
beach was suddenly more or less deserted, a boy-free and dog-free zone.

"How far is it?" Zoe wanted to know.

"'Bout half a mile. We'll take the bike."

"All of us?"

"We can all get on there."

They stood in a circle and regarded the bike as Pooch untied the length of
rope securing it to the fence.

"All four of us?" said Valerie. "How?"

"Me an' Pooch on the seat," said Emma. "You two can sit up there, behind us."

They tried it. There was a kind of flat back panel behind the seat. Zoe and
Valerie perched themselves on the seat back, their legs hanging down in front.
Zoe hung her legs on each side of Pooch, Valerie's were draped in front of
Emma's shoulders and tucked in behind her tits. Emma was aware of a heady,
musky scent hovering around the girl's loins. No doubt this was the secret of
her tremendous power over boys and dogs.

The topheavy bike lumbered round on to the sand-blown roadway and set off down
the hill, swiftly gathering pace.

"How good are the brakes?" Zoe yelled above the rising breeze.

"Not very!" Emma shouted, her eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Valerie gave a little scream. "How will we stop?"

"We don't want to stop. What do we need to stop for?"

"What if we hit something?"

"Then we'll probably stop."

They trundled on, passing the bike hire shack at a brisk clip, now squealing
with exhilaration. The hire boy gaped out of the window. If he had been
impressed before by the apparent size of Emma's towel-shrouded bosom he now
had an almost unimpeded view of it, together with a view of a smaller but
still buxom girl and an endlessly tall goddess with tits like footballs.
Accompanying them was a handsome, lucky sod who probably didn't know what to
do with one girl, let alone three, and was probably a raving queer into the
bargain.

On they roared, the girls' hair streaming out behind them, past the little
square where the temporary toilet stood, into the car park and out the other
side into the ornamental park, careering across the grass with increasing
feelings of concern.

Then the brakes began working, they rocked across a flower bed and came to a
halt teetering on the edge of a children's paddling pool.

"I told you it would stop," said Emma as she disentangled herself from
Valerie's fragrant thighs. "Where's your dad's van, Pooch?"

"Back there. We passed it at about a hundred miles an hour."

"Why do we want his dad's van?" said Zoe. She had stepped down from the bike
with some dignity and hauled it backwards on to the grass. They pushed it
slowly back in the direction of the car park, attracting a certain amount of
attention from holidaymakers and followed by just one dog who sniffed like a
connoisseur at Valerie's big, wobbling backside.

"I've got a rugby shirt and a pair of shorts for Em," said Pooch. "We're going
to cut it down to make a kind of bikini."

"Good plan," said Zoe. "and as the only one here who works in a bra shop, I
volunteer to use the scissors."

They found the van and Pooch disappeared inside. It must have been like a
general store in there but he came out again within seconds, waving a huge
brightly coloured striped shirt and a pair of voluminous white shorts.

"Sheesh, how big is your dad?" Zoe asked him.

"Big," said Pooch. "I brought the scissors, too."

"Good!" Zoe took charge. "We don't need to take any measurements. I'm going to
cut it across here... then up around here. Then she can tie the ends together
under her bust. The shorts are probably best left alone."

Emma and Pooch blushed while Valerie sniggered.

"I need a pee," said Emma. "You come with me, young lady."

Up the steps of the trailer and in at the door. They took a cubicle each. Emma
had one or two misgivings about encountering the aliens again but she reasoned
that they couldn't be in here all the time without attracting unwelcome
attention. Hundreds of women must use this facility every day.

"Em?"

"What is it?"

"There's no paper in here."

"Why didn't you look before you started having your piss?" Emma said
unfeelingly.

"I was in a hurry."

"Tough."

"But there's no paper in here, Em-maaaa!"

Emma completed her business and left her cubicle. She washed her hands, then
adjusted the towel around her middle. She even tried to tidy up her bikini
top. "I really do have the most obscenely huge boobs you ever saw," she
complained to her image in the mirror.

"They're very nice boobs," said the Voice.

Oh, no!

"Not you again!"

"We live here, Emma. Welcome to our home! I thought you weren't coming back
until next Friday."

"I needed a pee. Or do we need permission?"

"No, it's all right. Your tits are fucking incredible, Emma, you know that?"

"Gee, thanks a bunch!"

"No, seriously, they are!"

Valerie's voice started up again. "Who are you talking to, Emma?"

"Nobody! Hurry up and get out here."

"But there's no paper in here, Em-maaaa!"

"God, who's that?"

"It's my cousin Valerie. There's no paper in there."

"That's Blorp's department. You just can't get the staff these days. Blorp?
There's no paper in Number Two."

Blorp appeared from somewhere with a large cardboard box. "I was just going to
put a new roll in there. I've only got one pair of hands." He took a roll of
tissue and banged on the cubicle door. "Paper!" he shouted.

"Em? Your voice has changed..."

Blorp shoved the roll under the door then went about the room with his
polishing cloth. Tharg was standing on a small step ladder cleaning the
windows.

Valerie came out. "Was that a man who put the paper under the door...?"

"Is this Valerie?" the Voice demanded.

"Yes. I have to look after her to make sure she doesn't get into trouble."

"A full-time job if you ask me. Shit, she's a sexy little slut!"

"Em?" Valerie looked around her in panic. "Who is it?"

"It's Voice. Don't worry. Come on, let's get out of here."

"Sorr-eeee! Not so fast, Emma! I'm afraid you can't leave just like that."

"We have to! Zoe and Pooch "" my boyfriend "" will be wondering what's
happened to us."

"Boyfriend? You mean... your little software problem is solved?"

"Yes. I mean not quite. Well, nearly. Tonight, probably."

"Congratulations. How about Zoe? Is she going to get off with this Pooch?"

"She's dead meat if she tries it."

"So she hasn't found a boyfriend yet?"

"Not yet, but she hasn't really been trying very hard. She'll probably be
okay. So we'll just say thanks very much and leave..."

"No, sorry! Not yet. Blorp! Tharg!"

The little men had wandered over to investigate Valerie. At that moment they
were crouching down behind her, sniffing her bottom.

"Well?" said the Voice.

"Sexy as fuck!" reported Tharg.

"Like a bitch on heat," said Blorp.

"When is your period, Valerie?"

"Em...? Help?"

"Just answer her questions, Valerie. They won't hurt you."

At that moment, Blorp started humping her leg like an amorous dog.

"When was your period, girl?"

"A couple of weeks... ten days ago I finished."

"Good! Take your bikini off, please."

"What? Somebody might come in!"

"Don't start getting prudish now, Valerie," Emma pleaded. "This is a ladies'
loo."

Valerie flapped her arms around helplessly, then quickly removed her bra. More
slowly she pulled down her pants, then she straightened up, standing with her
knees inclined inwards, one hand across her pussy, her other arm across her
nipples, like a nymph surprised while bathing.

"Are you a virgin, Valerie?"

"Erm... no, miss."

"Then why are you standing like one? Stand up straight! Shoulders back, chest
out! Put your feet apart!"

Valerie obeyed.

"That's better! Tremendous nips, guys! Measure her up, please!"

Tharg and Blorp leapt forward, tape measures at the ready, nostrils twitching.

Emma tried pleading. "Please let us go. You don't have to pay Valerie to keep
quiet. She's a good girl, if I tell her not to say anything, she won't..."

"Height," said Tharg.

"Height," said Blorp.

"Four feet, nine inches."

"Four feet, nine inches; one four four decimal seven eight centimetres,
check!"

"Hips," said Tharg.

"Hips," repeated Blorp.

"Forty-two inches."

"Forty-two inches, Lord be praised," sang out Blorp. "One hundred and six
point..."

"Forget the centimetres, guys, for Goodness sake!"

"But this is England!"

"Forget the centimtres, okay?"

"I told you," Tharg muttered. "Waist."

"Waist."

"Thirty-six inches."

"Disgraceful!"

"Blorp!"

"Sorry. Thirty-six inches."

"That's better. No judgemental comments on clients, please. A young woman
might easily be offended by such observations. You really are a fat little
girl, Valerie. I suppose you'll be wanting us to do something about that for
you?"

Valerie gazed blankly into space. "Do something about it?"

"Make you a little less pudgy?"

"Leave her alone," said Emma. "She's fine just the way she is."

"We shall see about that," the Voice sighed. "Carry on, boys."

"Nipple, left."

"Nipple, left."

"Areola, six point two five inches diameter; puff, plus one inch; nipple
thickness, point five inches; nipple length, point seven five inches."

"Sorry?" said Blorp. "Start again? I missed all that."

"Look, boys, you're not launching a rocket to the moon. One of you call them
out, the other one write them down, okay?"

"Nipple, left."

"We've done nipple left. What about nipple right!"

"Nipple, right: as for nipple left but nipple length one inch precisely."

"So's my other one," said Valerie.

Blorp and Tharg bristled, standing with hands on hips.

"They get bigger when people play with them," said Valerie. "Look, they're
both an inch long now."

Tharg sighed. "How can we measure her when she keeps growing?"

"Get on with it, boys, please!"

"Bust circumference, total. Forty-three inches."

"Thank you! 43-36-42. A certain robust symmetry, Valerie, but we'll soon do
something about that when we start slimming your waistline. Do you have a
boyfriend, Valerie?"

"One or two, yeah."

Blorp carried out a brisk inspection. He wiped his fingers. "Non-virgin."

"She already told us she's not a virgin."

Tharg inserted a fat silver probe with a large dial on the end. His eyes
popped as he studied the reading. "Three years; three thousand, four hundred
and thirty seven times," he announced.

"The horny little slut!" said Blorp.

Emma blushed. "Valerie!"

"What kind of a machine is that?" demanded the patient. "That clock thing? It
made a kind of buzz inside."

"It counts the number of times you have had sexual intercourse."

"Put it back in!" Valerie begged. "Please!"

"It is being sterilised. You really are a filthy slut, aren't you!"

Valerie hung her head. "Yes, miss. Can't help it, miss."

"Our dilemma, Valerie, is this. If you are having sex on average of four times
a day - allowing for your periods - while you are fat as a little piglet, what
are you going to be like when you are - how shall we put it - staggeringly
voluptuous?"

"Wha...?"

"Explain to her, Emma!"

"No! You can't do this to her. She's no age at all. She is a silly little
oversexed girl who doesn't know what she's doing. You can't seriously expect
to give her a 99% increase!"

"Absolutely not! 99%, indeed!"

"You told me that's the bare minimum."

"Absolutely. It's the bare minimum. Or it was. It went up to 149% in
February..."

"Oh, God!"

"...and up again to 199% in May. That was the minimum, of course. And by the
time we have applied weight redistribution to Valerie, we'll be well above the
minimum value. I'll have to work it out, but don't worry, it's all fully
automatic. Did you bring your purse with you?"

"What for? Apart from fucking about with an innocent young girl's body, you
want to make us pay for it as well?"

"Of course not, silly! You're going to have to feed her. Valerie is going to
be a very hungry little girl for the rest of her holiday! Needle, please,
Blorp!"

"Needle!"

Valerie took one look at the needle and fainted.

"Well, that will make it easier," said the Voice. "Go for it, Blorp, before
she wakes up."

Emma prodded her prostrate cousin. "Is she going to be all right?"

"She'll be okay!" Voice didn't sound particularly reassuring. "Look, any
problems, give me a ring."

"You're on the phone?"

"Why not? Everybody else has got a mobile, why shouldn't we? No text messages,
though, I only do Voice calls."

"What's the number?" said Emma faintly.

"You'll find it in your speed-dial list, of course!"

"Why does it always take you so long to have a simple piss?" Zoe demanded
angrily as the two cousins plodded slowly down the steps and wandered over to
the bike which was going round in lazy figure-of-eight patterns on the road
outside. It stopped and they climbed aboard, looking stunned.

"Clock in my cunt," muttered Valerie in a monotone.

Zoe and Pooch stared at her. Emma shook her head quickly.

"Big needle," droned Valerie.

"Is this what I think it is?" said Zoe.

Emma nodded.

"One hundred and ninety-nine percent," said Valerie dully. "At fucking least!"

"She can't be serious!" said Zoe.

"Hungry. Want fish and chips."

"I think it's started working already," said Emma.

"What's working already?" said Pooch.

"We're not allowed to talk about it. But you'll know soon enough."

"How many percent did she say?" said Zoe.

"One hundred and ninety-nine is the new minimum, apparently."

"That's impossible! She'd be gigantic!"

"Tell me about it! We've got to take her home at the end of all this. And to
think, I was worried about her getting preggers. That will be nothing to
this!"

"Nothing to what?" said Pooch.

"Fish and chips. Big Mac. Chicken tikka masala. Crispy roast duck with hot n'
spicy beef, green pepper and black bean sauce, sweet and sour pork, special
fried rice and prawn crackers for four persons."

"Shut her up, somebody. She's making me hungry." Zoe looked at the girl. "Two
hundred percent bigger than that? Is that why she's hungry? What happens if we
don't feed her?"

"She'll die, I suppose."

Zoe wrinkled her nose. "Hmm. That would be just as bad as getting her
pregnant. Looks like we're stuck with it. Got any more of those seventy-six
inch bust rugby shirts in your dad's van, Pooch?"

"What is this all about?"

Emma sighed. "Let's take this bike back, and we'll explain."

"Jumbo cheesedog and large fries..."

"We'd better feed Valerie first!"

"Em? I'm hungry!"

Emma opened her eyes and shut them again. Then she opened them wide. For the
first time in her life she had woken up with a boy beside her.

"What time is it, sweetie?"

Pooch stirred and she saw him squinting at his watch in the half light. "Oh,
shit! Half past six!"

"Em...?"

"Valerie says she's hungry again. She can't be, not after that huge supper she
had."

"Two huge suppers. A double portion of fish and chips..."

"More than a double portion, she had half my chips as well."

"She didn't, did she? She had half of Zoe's. And I gave her half my fish."

Emma felt uneasy inside. "Then as soon as we got back she wanted toasted
cheese and baked beans on toast."

"How could she sleep after all that?"

"She hasn't had time to sleep, it's only half past six."

"C'n I come in, Em? It's cold out here."

"Go back to bed for an hour or two."

"I can't. Gordon couldn't sleep so he got up and went out. The bed's too cold
to sleep on my own!"

Emma looked at Pooch. They were now wide awake. "Come on in, then."

The flap opened instantly and Valerie crawled in on hands and knees. She was
wearing a Scooby-Doo T-shirt.

"Hi, Pooch," she said, flinging back the big quilt and diving in between the
lovers.

"You're freezing, Valerie!" Emma protested.

"I know. If you both cuddle me I'll soon warm up."

Feeling uncomfortable, Emma began rubbing the girl's thighs. She had a feeling
that Pooch was hugging her with more enthusiasm from the other side.

"What's this about Gordon?" she asked, although she thought she'd be much
happier not knowing...

"Oh, I fucked him last night. Only twice. He wasn't bad for a beginner, but he
wanted the whole bed to himself. It was like sleeping with a pony. He's all
elbows. Anyway, when I woke him up this morning he said I fart too much and he
was going out."

"Out? Where did he go? You are a naughty girl, Valerie!"

"I think he probably went along to see Zoe."

"What?"

"You know Zoe? Your bestest friend?"

"Jeez!"

"Em? I'm hungry again."

"You can't be!"

"I am. I want eggs and bacon and sausages and beans and fried mashed potato
and big mushrooms and five slices of fried bread. Then toast and marmalade."

"Stop her, Em!"

"I can't stop her."

"Em, you don't want me to fuck Pooch, do you?"

"What? I beg your pardon? What did you say?"

"That's what I thought. Okay, I won't, but he's got a huge hard-on and it's
sticking in my bum."

"Pooch!"

"I can't help it! I was thinking of you..."

A chilly silence fell over the crowded bed.

"My tits feel ever so big, Em. Tons bigger than usual. I'm feeling them now
and they feel really big."

Silence.

"Em? Do you want to feel them?"

"No."

Silence.

"Em? Would you mind if Pooch felt them?"

Silence.

"I didn't think you'd let him. Never mind. Em? Could I fuck Uncle George, do
you think?"

"You what? That's my daddy! You can't... not with your own uncle! It's
incest!"

"Yeah, but it's not like I'd be marrying him or anything. And lots of girls at
school do it with their uncles. All the time."

"It's obscene!"

"You're no fun, Em!"

"She's already fucked her own cousin, Emma," Pooch reminded her.

"Whose side are you on?"

"Nobody's. I'm just telling you that she slept with Gordon, so if she did
sleep with your dad and she got pregnant, nobody would know who the father was
anyway."

"I won't get pregnant, Pooch. I never get pregnant. I'm the same as my mum,
she said she'd been trying for seven years before she had me. Well, not really
trying..."

"How many boys did you have yesterday, Valerie?" Emma asked, fearing the
answer.

"Yesterday? It was shocking! Terrible! I'm ashamed of myself!"

"You were a horrid little girl, Valerie, prancing about on the beach without a
bra, getting boys to rub oil on your boobs..."

"I know," Valerie moaned, now fingering herself wetly beneath the quilt. "All
those boys and all those chances, and I didn't score with any of them! And as
if that wasn't bad enough, what did I end up with? Cousin Gordon!"

Emma was in awe of this girl's experience. "You know when the little men put
that silver thing inside you? Surely that wasn't true, what it said?"

"Of course not! Three thousand four hundred times in three years? I could've
told them their machine sucked. How could I do it that many times in three
years?"

Emma gave a little sigh. The aliens' technology was by no means foolproof, but
it was a relief to hear that her cousin wasn't such a raving nymphomaniac as
the gauge suggested.

"It's been four years, at least! But the number of times was probably about
right, so it's a clever little machine. I wanted them to put it back in me, it
felt so nice!"

Emma's brain whirled with the mathematics. Even if her little cousin had been
sexually active for four and a half years, for three weeks out of every four,
she'd still averaged nearly three times a day. Awesome! What an awesome slut!

"Em, I'm ever so hungry!"

Zoe arrived, looking somewhat subdued, while Valerie was finishing off her
breakfast. Still in her Scooby-Doo T-shirt, she was sitting cross-legged on
the floor of the tent in front of her Uncle George, leaning forwards every few
seconds to dip a slice of bread in his egg yolk. His eyes were locked on his
niece's cleavage, which seemed deeper than it had been the day before. She
finally grabbed his plate and wiped it with her bread, then stood up and bent
over him with a thank-you kiss before undulating away to the washing-up bowl.

Zoe stared at the girl with awe.

"Look at her, Em! Does she always sleep in that T-shirt?"

"I don't think so. It's not going to last much longer if she does. It's going
to explode!"

"Hi, Pooch," said Zoe slyly. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, thanks." He glanced nervously at Emma's dad, but he was too busy
watching Valerie bending over the washing-up bowl to notice. He was so
preoccupied with his voluptuous niece that he didn't seem to have noticed that
his daughter was entertaining a tired-looking boyfriend to breakfast.

Emma smirked at her friend. "You haven't seen our Gordon recently, by any
chance, have you?"

Zoe blushed and shuffled her feet. She was wearing a thick, chunky sweater but
it was failing to hide her erect nipples. "Maybe he's gone to the toilet," she
suggested lamely.

"We'd better organise a search party in that case," Emma murmured. "Valerie
said she kicked him out of her bed before six thirty this morning."

"Okay, there's no need to shout it from the housetops; he's in my tent, still
asleep."

"How was he? Valerie said he's improving."

"He's pretty good for a young lad."

"At least, we seem to have got over our little problem," said Emma. "The Voice
will be pleased her software isn't broken any more."

They found themselves looking across at Valerie, who had found a huge slice of
iced lemon cake from somewhere. Crumbs cascaded down as she took a generous
mouthful, falling into her cleavage like snow. Her rounded belly strained the
tight jersey-knit cotton, her startling breasts bulged upwards and outwards;
the shirt refused to stay down over her mighty rump, insisting on riding up as
fast as she pulled it down. Shamefully, she was not wearing panties.

"You can see where all that food is going already," said Zoe.

Valerie bent to open the cake tin and help herself to another slice. Her big
buttocks framed her well-used cunny and she held the pose for ten seconds or
so before remembering to tug the shirt back down.

"Are you going down to the beach today, Emma?" her Daddy asked hoarsely. "You
don't need to worry about looking after Valerie today. I thought I might take
her shopping for some clothes."

"Oooh, Uncle George!" The girl stretched her T-shirt down so her breasts
bubbled up out of the neckline, then wobbled over and threw her arms around
his neck, leaning backwards so he could see nothing but cleavage. His eyes
glazed over at the sight of two hemispheres of unbelievably puffy dark pink
areola.

"He can't buy her clothes," Zoe whispered. "The way she's growing she'll be
bursting out of them by tomorrow."

"Do you like it, Emma?"

Valerie stretched and strained the buttons of her new cream silk shirt.

"I'd better be going if I'm going to help my dad clean out his van," said
Pooch with obvious reluctance. "I'll call you later, Em?"

They exchanged kisses and Pooch backed out of the tent, closing the flap
discreetly behind him.

"You ought to get a bigger tent, Em. Pooch could have stayed if we'd had more
room."

Emma snorted in disapproval of her young cousin. "There wouldn't be room for
the three of us even in Daddy's tent," she observed, covering her exposed
cleavage with a blanket and eyeing Valerie's exuberant figure. "Especially
with the amount you've eaten since yesterday."

"I know! My clothes are so tight! Uncle George had to buy me a new bra as well
as six pairs of silk knickers! He said it's rude if people can see my pussy
when I bend over." She pulled up her painfully tight microskirt a few inches
to reveal a pair of scarlet panties. Then she unbuttoned her shirt almost to
the waist to reveal a lacy but exceptionally large black bra.

"What size is that?" Emma asked.

"I don't know. It's bigger than a D. My old one was a 38D and it was only a
little bit too small until today."

"Let me see it," said Emma, reaching for the label at the side. "Oh, my God,
Valerie! This is a G cup!"

"It's not too big!" Valerie said anxiously. "We're not taking it back to the
shop!"

"It's not too big," said Emma, glad that her panty-clad loins were safely
hidden beneath the blanket. "It's only just big enough. You're getting
enormous!" She felt juices trickling down between the cheeks of her bum and
soaking into the mattress.

"Is that why this shirt is so tight, Em? The lady said it's supposed to fit a
forty-four inch bust."

"You're certainly bigger than forty-four, Valerie. You were forty-three
yesterday afternoon, and you're probably forty-six by now. You'd better stop
growing!"

"Forty-six! That's massive, Em! For my age, I mean."

"Yes, it is. You'd better take that lovely shirt off before you split the
seams."

"Okay," said Valerie, instantly shrugging out of the shirt and folding it
neatly. She cupped her breasts and looked down at them, first one then the
other, where they bulged out of the big lacy cups. She took a deep breath and
pulled her shoulders back. Her pudgy tummy formed three rolls of flesh, no
doubt full of the dozen or so meals Valerie had eaten since the previous
afternoon. Suddenly she wormed the skirt down her hips and wriggled out of it.
It joined the shirt on the floor. The scarlet panties followed. "Can I try
something of yours on, Em?"

"Nothing of mine will fit you," Emma said, but she found herself running
through an inventory of her wardrobe, mentally fitting Valerie into her
clothes. For some reason it was making her even wetter.

"How 'bout these?" The girl had found a pair of panties half hidden under the
quilt.

"No! They're not clean! Valerie!"

Too late. They were already halfway up her thighs. Emma hid her face in her
hands as the baggy, stained crotch of her cast-off panties - which she would
have put in the laundry bag if they hadn't disappeared - stretched itself
across her cousin's broad hips. Valerie didn't comment on the condition of the
worn underwear. Somehow she pulled them all the way up, working them into a
comfortable position around her pussy. These are nice. A little bit wet, but
nice. Is it Pooch's cum in there? I don't mean it could be anyone else's," she
added hastily. "I only meant is it cum, not just your own juice? I think I'll
wear these in bed tonight. Where's Gordon?"

"Gordon?" Emma realised she hadn't seen him for most of the day. He'd arrived
for a late breakfast after Daddy had taken Valerie shopping, then he had
disappeared again. Emma hadn't seen Zoe either. At least, now that Zoe had
apparently started having sex again, just as Emma herself had discovered the
joys of Pooch, they wouldn't need to visit the aliens in their toilet at the
end of next week. The software problem had been solved, one way or another. It
might be better to stay right away from the toilet trailer from now on,
especially as the aliens had apparently paid young Valerie for her silence.
Emma wondered just how silent Valerie was capable of being. She also wondered
just how big she was programmed to grow. 199% sounded frankly exaggerated, and
was probably just Voice trying to make an impression on a couple of gullible
earthgirls. Nevertheless, Valerie would require careful watching for a few
days. It never occurred to Emma to wonder what she could do other than watch!

At breakfast next morning, Daddy spent the whole time with his mouth wide
open. So did Gordon, who had materialised out of the dawn mists and crept into
his bed to sleep soundly until eight o'clock.

They had their mouths open because they were staring, awestruck, at Valerie.

Emma kissed bye-bye to Pooch and shuffled through the dewy grass to Daddy's
tent for coffee. Then her mouth opened, too.

"Is that your new bra, Valerie?"

"Yes. It seems a bit tight this morning."

"It fit her all right in the shop," her Uncle George maintained, still with
his mouth wide open.

"It doesn't now," said Emma.

"Can we take it back?" said Valerie.

"Not now you've stretched it out of shape."

"Shall I take it off?"

The audience swallowed lumps in their throats. Two thirds of the audience
adjusted lumps in their groins. The third member would have flooded her
panties if she'd been wearing any.

"Hello, Valerie," said Gordon.

"Hello, Gordon," said Valerie sweetly. "My boobs have grown."

"I know," said Gordon.

"Emma says they're forty-six inches."

"They're a lot bigger than that now," said Emma.

"God!" said her father.

"You didn't say if I could take my bra off."

"You'd better," said Emma. "If you want to be able to breathe."

"Ooh, thanks!" Valerie unhooked the bra and slid the shoulder straps down her
plump arms.

Gordon and his father averted their eyes then peered covertly at Valerie
hoping she couldn't see them looking.

Emma, being a girl, could stare directly at her cousin. She did. Apart from
her suddenly enormously swollen breasts she seemed to have lost weight around
the middle, although possibly it was an optical illusion due to the impressive
overhang of her bust. Her always stunning areolae seemed to have stretched. At
a guess, Emma would have said they were now seven inches across, and possibly
more from top to bottom. And they were puffier now than ever before. One thing
was certain, she couldn't appear on the beach looking like that.

"Morning, guys!" Zoe appeared through the trees in a kind of dressing gown.
She nodded a greeting to Emma and her daddy, glowered at Gordon then caught
sight of Valerie and her mouth fell open. Moments before it did, the words
"Hol-ee Shit" came out.

"We're going to have to get a new bra for Valerie," said Emma.

"What happened to her?"

"You know!" said Emma, touching the side of her nose. "The Voice?"

"Yeah, but..." she pulled Emma to one side. "It took me weeks to grow that
much!"

"I think she's had a stronger dose than you did. Is it just me, or is she
losing weight around her belly?"

"No, it's not just you. She is."

"In fact, I'm not sure we'll find a bra anywhere in Brownwater to fit her."

"I know what we can do, but we'll have to go on the train. There's a
Discoveries shop in Duckport. They'll have something there to fit her from
stock. And we can put it on my staff account and her mum can pay the bill
later. It won't be too bad; my staff discount is 75%. We can get her a free
bikini as well!"

"When can we go?" Valerie was hopping up and down. She stopped hopping but her
breasts didn't. "We've got to have breakfast first."

"There's a train at ten."

"Good! I fancy eggs and bacon, beans, mushrooms, sautéed little new potatoes
and cherry tomatoes."

"How about cereal?" said Emma.

"I already had that half an hour ago. Eight Weetabix and half a pint of milk."

"Eight?"

"That's all there were in the packet."

There was only an hour before the train to Duckport so they all dived into
their separate tents to get ready.

Emma put on her baggiest sweatshirt and jeans, grabbed her bag then hurried
back to her daddy's tent to wait for Zoe.

Zoe chose a pair of skimpy white shorts and an orange crop top, with a black
bra offering such outrageous uplift and support that her bust appeared around
the corner ten seconds before the rest of her.

"Wow, Zo!" said Emma weakly. "You look massive!"

Zoe performed a little twirl. "Do you like it?"

Daddy came out of his bedroom looking slightly haggard, goggled at Zoe and
ducked back in again.

"Where is she?" said Zoe with a nod in the direction of Valerie's bedroom. As
if in reply, a wail of despair wafted out from behind the mesh door.

"Em? Nothing fits!"

"There's your answer. I think she's grown out of all her clothes."

"She'll have to find something quick or we'll miss the train."

Emma thought for a moment, then took out her phone and pressed a few buttons.
"Pooch? Hi! We're going shopping in Duckport this morning. Could we ask you a
special favour?"

Zoe looked at Emma as they waited for a reply.

"Yeah. We need another one of your dad's rugby shirts. A big one. No, it's not
for me, it's for young Valerie, she's got nothing to wear. Nothing that fits
her, anyway..."

Emma put her thumb up.

"You will? Okay, why not get a taxi, bring the shirt up here, tell the driver
to wait, then we'll all go straight to the station."

"Good thinking, Em!"

"Yeah, you can come if you like, but we're only buying girls' stuff..." Emma
shrugged expressively. "Okay, see you in five."

"He's on his way?"

"Yeah. With the biggest shirt he can find."

Gordon crawled backwards out of his bedroom. He looked up and caught an eyeful
of Zoe from a low angle. He gave a strangled moan and shot back inside.

"Valerie?" Emma leaned close to her cousin's bedroom door. "Put on your jeans
or something and come on out. Pooch is bringing you a shirt you can wear."

There was a pause and Valerie appeared, her new bra dangling from one hand.

"Can you help me put it on?" she pleaded.

Daddy and Gordon were suddenly back on the scene, their mouths still open.

"Somebody help me!" said Valerie. "Uncle George? Gordon?"

"I'll do it," said Zoe. "Load your boobs in the cups. Or as much of them as
will fit in there."

Five pairs of eyes bulged from their sockets as Valerie did as she was told.
Valerie's were bulging with discomfort, Zoe's with the effort of stretching
the bra around the girl's back. Emma's, Gordon's and Daddy's were out on
stalks with a mixture of awe and lust.

"She's as big as you, Zo!"

Zoe looked daggers at her friend and pulled extra hard on the bra straps,
producing a squeak from Valerie but succeeding in finally capturing the first
of the four hooks. "There. I can't guarantee it will hold together until we
get to Discoveries, but it might stop her bouncing herself off her feet when
she tries to walk."

Valerie bulged out of the bra in every possible direction. Even those mighty G
cups weren't big enough to cover her areolae, which played peek-a- boo with
the tops of the lacy cups. She held her arms away from her sides because when
she let them hang straight downwards they compressed her tits dangerously
inwards. Zoe sighed and attempted to push out of sight the fat, crescent
moon-shaped bulges spilling out beneath the cups.

"I could have taken you to the station," said Daddy.

"It's all right. Pooch had to get a taxi anyway, and it would have had to go
back into town, so it can take us to the station. Zoe can ride in the front
with the driver, and with the amount of cleavage she's showing we'll probably
get away with half price."

Daddy looked relieved. "I'll stay here and do the laundry," he said. "If you
have any dirty washing, you'd better bring it over here before you go. I can
do yours as well, Zoe, if you like."

"Thanks. I've got a few shirts and stuff."

"I'll do the laundry, Dad," said Gordon, to everyone's surprise, including his
own.

"No, it's okay. You can go down on the beach."

"No, Dad! Why don't you go down the beach while I do the washing."

"It's all right, I can do it!"

They would probably have argued for another hour over the privilege of doing
the washing. When Emma and Zoe returned with bags of underwear and T- shirts,
they were no nearer a resolution. There was a pile of dirty linen and clothing
on the floor between them and they had reached the stage of pushing each other
away from it. Valerie came out of her bedroom and added a sprinkling of
fragrant underwear to the pile.

The two males clutched at their gonads.

"Tell you what," Emma suggested. "One of you can take all this stuff over to
the camp site launderette and load the washing machine. Then he can take off
to the beach and the other one can empty the machine and dry the clothes. See?
Simple?"

It was so simple that they accepted the plan without a vote. Then they began
arguing over who would be the lucky one who got to load the machine.

Pooch arrived at that moment in the taxi. He jumped out with the shirt and
handed it to Emma. "It's probably a bit too big for young Valerie," he panted.
Then he caught sight of Valerie and clutched at his balls. There was a stunned
silence as Valerie's goodies disappeared from view inside the rugby shirt, and
a collective gasp as she smoothed the coarse material down over her bust.

"Fucking hell!" said Pooch beneath his breath.

"Come on, guys!" Emma shouted. "All aboard!"

"It's a bra shop, Pooch! You wouldn't find it very interesting."

Pooch, on the contrary, seemed fascinated. His nose was pressed against the
door.

Interested passers-by stared firstly at Zoe's blatant display of L-cup charms,
then at Emma who was obviously hiding something pretty significant in her
baggy sweatshirt, then at the diminutive but ripe figure bursting out of jeans
and seriously threatening the structural integrity of an extra large sized
rugby shirt. Then they looked at Pooch, wondering what he had in his trousers
that was capable of attracting three such alarmingly buxom girls.

"Maybe I can come in and have a look around," he begged.

"Come on, then!" Zoe elbowed him aside and opened the door. A bell tinkled.
They were in a room bare of ornament, with a counter across one corner and a
pink breast on it with a big brown nipple pointing at the ceiling.

"Wow!" said Valerie, reaching for the nipple. Another, louder, bell sounded
somewhere in the back of the shop. Shortly afterwards a harrassed looking
woman poked her head round a curtain.

"Won't keep you a moment," she said. Then she adjusted her glasses. "Zoe?"

"Hi, Muriel!"

"Haven't seen you since the training course. How goes it? Still doing
Saturdays in Bath? I've got to get back out the back before they wreck the
place. Just getting rid of a coach party. Family of five, would you believe?
The Robinsons!" Muriel rolled her eyes to the heavens. "Coupla minutes, okay?
Amuse yourselves. Abuse yourselves!" She glanced at Pooch, disappeared behind
the curtain again, then reappeared with a glossy catalogue which she thrust in
his direction.

"Thanks..."

Muriel had gone.

"What ya got, Pooch?" Valerie sang out, thrusting her bosom in his direction
and stopping about six inches too late. "Oops, sorry!" She tried to read the
catalogue over his shoulder but as he was eighteen inches taller than she was,
it didn't work. She had to press close to his side and read it over his arm,
which meant that he had a massive tit pressed against him and occupying most
of his horizon. "Oooh, that one's nice!" she said, stabbing out a finger. "Is
she as big as me?"

Emma couldn't allow her cousin to commandeer her boyfriend. She moved in on
the other side. Pooch groaned. As if it wasn't enough standing in a custom bra
shop trying to read a luridly illustrated bra catalogue, he was virtually
engulfed in tit. Emma inched closer. "She's huge!" she gasped as Pooch turned
the page and revealed a page headed SooperCustom - for the Over-Sixties, which
all too clearly didn't refer to the age of the models.

Out the back of the shop, there were sounds of farewell, and voices coming
closer. It was Valerie's squeal that focused everyone's attention on the
clients who appeared from behind the curtain and trooped in a line towards the
door like a family of ducks.

Emma shushed her, then she was forced to clap a hand over her own mouth. There
were five girls and a harassed mother bringing up the rear. A harassed and
flat-chested mother, but just about any mother on earth would have been
flat-chested by comparison with her brood. They were led by the eldest
daughter, a bored and surly-looking teen who was doing her best to destroy an
XXL T-shirt, and she was followed by her four younger sisters who trailed
along in descending order of age. But they were by no means in descending
order of bust size. The second sister was an inch or so taller than her big
sister, and her breasts were similar in size. The other three were
considerably bigger, the middle one by such a margin that she had to make her
way out of the shop doorway slowly and carefully. The youngest one, a chubby
little thing, was evidently still getting used to her chesty burden, bouncing
her breasts in both hands and waiting for them to come to rest before doing it
again. It took about ten seconds each time.

The catalogue had slipped from Pooch's limp fingers.

Zoe summed up the general opinion. "Shee-it!" she muttered.

Muriel came out into the shop and ran her fingers through her short dark hair.
"I don't know what's happening round here. It must be something in the water!"

"Are they regulars?" said Zoe.

"I hope not! Those little ones wanted to try on every bra in the shop. The
second youngest is a 26V and the youngest is a 28Z. That's 54-30-30, in crude
figures, and she's only ten years old. And the middle one - the one with the
biggest tits - she's only a size 26. We don't see many of those in cup sizes
over a Zed."

"A what?" said Emma. "She's a 26Z? That's..."

"She's a 26S2," said Muriel with a shake of the head. "71-18-26. I had to
alter a 32 for the sexy little slutbag."

"You keep those in stock?"

The bra maker looked at Emma. "We could do you from stock, probably. Is this
visit for a bra for you, or for the Wonderful Exploding Woman over here?" She
nodded in the direction of Valerie. "Either way, if we don't get that bra off
her soon, we're going to have to take cover behind the counter."

"This is my little cousin Valerie."

"Is she another one of them?"

"Them?"

"You know. Them! Like the Robinsons who just went out. Some crazy story about
being abducted by aliens!"

"So was I..." Valerie blurted, ending in a yelp as Emma's elbow dug her in the
ribs. "But we're not allowed to talk about it."

"We've had dozens. Mostly teenage girls and young kids. It's great for
business but God knows what's going to happen when they get back to school.
Okay, off with that shirt. Rugby shirts aren't a bad idea; they're made pretty
strong."

Valerie wasted no time on a striptease. She crossed her arms, grabbed the hem
of the shirt and pulled it over her head. She seemed gratified by the
reaction; four distinct gasps.

"She's even bigger!" said Zoe. "She's incredible!"

"You'd better all come through into the back," said Muriel. "You never know
when a customer is going to come in." She led the way, and by the time Pooch
trailed in at the rear of the convoy "" no one had told him not to "" the bra
maker was already brandishing a pair of scissors as big as garden shears. In
fact, they possibly were garden shears. "Stand back, everyone!" She slipped
the shears up Valerie's back.

"They're cold!"

"Oh, excuse me! I am so sorry! If you'd given me twenty-four hours' notice I'd
have warmed them up for you!"

"She only started growing the day before yesterday! She was a D cup until
then."

"I used to be the biggest girl in my class," said Valerie.

"At a guess, you probably still will be, unless you're in the same class as
one of those Robinson girls. Hold still."

Crrrrunchhh!

The sides of the bra sprang forward like a catapult. Valerie's breasts leapt
forward, bounced a couple of times, then thought 'what the hell' and headed
south, bigtime.

"Shit!" said Muriel, impressed despite herself. "All that in two days?"

Emma had to clear her throat before she could speak. "She got the bra
yesterday and it fit. It's a G cup. At least, it was."

"I'm going to have to measure her," said Muriel. "When they're really heavy
like this, you have to be careful."

Zoe's voice shook. "They're bigger than mine!"

"We'd better enter her on the system," said Muriel, all business. She tapped a
few keys and the computer screen came to life.

"Am I on there?" Emma asked.

"We all are. On that system are all the biggest busts in the whole of the
country."

"Wow!" said Valerie. "Am I one of those?" She waggled her bust from side to
side until it almost shook her off her feet.

"Enter Emma's name," said Zoe.

Muriel's hands hovered over the keyboard. "Emma what?"

"Just Emma, see what happens."

"Wow, only three of them."

"That's me, that one there," said Emma, studying her details on the screen.
"What does TPD stand for?"

Zoe and Muriel looked at one another and coughed. "Erm, nothing, just a bit of
code."

"Yeah, but what does it mean?"

"I'll tell you later, when..."

"Tell me now! No, don't bother!" She leaned across to the keyboard and typed
'?TPD'.

The screen cleared and a line of text appeared.

Take Panties Down!

Emma blushed scarlet. "That's not very nice," she protested weakly.

"You're lucky!" said Zoe. "I had a girl a couple of weeks ago who had 'BRL'
against her name."

Muriel laughed. "You didn't, did you? I've only ever had one of those."

"'Beware Raving Lezzie', said Zoe.

"What's a lezzie?" said Valerie. They all stared at her. She'd been sexually
hyperactive for four years and she didn't know what a lezzie was. Emma
explained, trying not to catch Zoe's eye. Valerie nodded. "Oh, you mean like
our PE teacher. She likes licking girls' pussies, but she's never tried
licking mine. I wouldn't mind; it feels lovely when Alison Gross does it. Why
do they need to take your panties down, Em?"

"Never mind, Valerie! And who's Alison Gross?"

"She's at our school. She's a class below me but she's got like really big
boobs and a huge long tongue? She can lick the end of her nose. Do they need
to take your panties down to look at your great big hairy pussy, Emma? Hey, I
bet I'm even bigger than Alison now."

"Your tongue?" said Zoe, surprised.

"No, these!" Valerie stuck out her ridiculously big chest. "She was a G cup at
Easter. Gross is a good name for her, only she's really really skinny, 'part
from her boobs. She's got no bum at all and like a six-inch waist! Why is your
pussy so big and h...?"

"Valerie! No!"

"Come over here, Valerie," said Muriel. She held out her tape measure with her
arms spread wide. Zoe turned the girl round and steered her backwards towards
the bra maker. "Right, that's a standard size 38. Now for the big one..."

"You did her chest first!" Emma cried.

"Yeah. It's a bra she's here for."

"I know, but Miss Twizzell always takes all my measurements, starting with the
hips and working upwards."

Muriel shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Not another one! What's the point?"

"We always do it that way at the Bath branch," Zoe confirmed. "I thought it
was the right way."

"It is," said Emma. "Miss Twiz..."

"Okay, okay!" Muriel slipped the tape down to Valerie's magnificent bottom.
Emma and Zoe watched closely, licking their dry lips. Even Pooch had crept
over to get a closer look. Muriel looked up, startled. "Measuring a girl's
hips isn't supposed to be a spectator sport, you know!"

"How big is she now?" Zoe demanded.

"How big was she?"

"Forty-two," Valerie interjected. "When the little men... ouch!"

"Little men?" said Muriel with a frown. "The Robinson girls were talking about
some little men in silver suits."

"In a flying saucer?" Zoe said with a forced laugh.

"No, a toilet! They said there was a ladies' toilet with two men in it,
and..."

"Little girls! You know what they're like!" said Emma. "How big are Valerie's
hips, then?"

"Forty-three and a half. Nearly forty-four." Muriel patted Valerie's mega-
rump. "That's quite an arse you've got there, kid! I like to see a big bum on
a busty girl. Stops them looking too top-heavy..."

"What about her waist?"

"What's the rush? Take your time!" Muriel fumbled deliberately with the tape,
finally draping it round Valerie's waist and pulling it tight.

"Wow, she's shrunk!" Zoe whispered.

"The Voice said she was going to slim my waist..."

"Was this the woman's voice in the toilet? Little Slutbag Robinson was telling
me about her..."

"She's not supposed to talk about it," Emma complained.

Muriel raised an eyebrow. "Who told you that?"

"You're not supposed to tell anyone when you meet aliens. You just don't!"

"You seem to know a lot about it," said Muriel with a suspicious glare at
Emma's bosom. But she returned to Valerie's waist. "Twenty-seven inches!" she
announced.

"Wow!" said Zoe. "She was thirty-six, wasn't she?"

"Yeah." Emma shook her head. "And that was before she ate all those extra
dinners! Where has it all gone? I know where it's all gone. On to her chest!"

"Would you mind if I measure her bust now?" Muriel sighed. "Like for her new
bra, you know?"

Emma, Zoe and Pooch looked at one another as Muriel paused with the tape
ready.

"Who wants a bet on it?" Muriel smirked. "I like a bet. I just won a pound off
Mrs Robinson. It could have been a tenner only I took pity on her. Come on,
write your predictions on these pieces of paper." She ripped a page out of her
notebook and tore it into strips. "Here you go, let's say twenty pence a
guess. Twenty pee's nothing!"

Shielding their pieces of paper with their hands, the contestants wrote down
their estimates, taking their time over it. Even Valerie borrowed twenty pence
from Pooch, wrote a number down and carefully folded her paper. Muriel
gathered them up and dropped them into one of the cups of a big pink bra.

"Here we go, then. This is the big one!"

Pooch won.

The girls glowered at him crossly as he pocketed a pound's-worth of coins.

"Nothing to it," he explained. "You said her hips were an inch and a half
bigger than they were, and her waist was seven inches smaller?"

"So what?"

"Add all her measurements together. Not today's, the ones from when her uncle
bought her new bra."

Emma's lips moved as she performed the calculations. "One-two-three," she
announced.

"One-two-three what?" said Valerie.

"One hundred and twenty-three inches."

Pooch nodded. "Okay. And what about now?"

Zoe frowned as she scribbled numbers on a scrap of paper. "Well I'm buggered!
I thought I'd won it with fifty-two."

"See?" Pooch looked pleased with himself. "A twenty-seven inch waist plus
forty-three and a half inch hips is seventy and a half. Take that away from
one-two-three and what do you get?"

"521/2-27-431/2!" said Muriel. "Spooky!"

"An O cup!" Zoe's voice had become shrill. "I told you hers were bigger than
mine. And all in two days!"

Muriel's ears pricked up like a dog's. "If she's grown this much in two days,
how do you know she's finished growing?"

"She hasn't," said Emma. "The Voice... I mean... I've got a sneaking suspicion
she's going to keep growing until she's at least four times as big as she was
at the start of the week. At least! And she's not even twice as big yet!""

"What's all this 'at least' business?" said Muriel.

"Look, you can keep a secret, can't you? I mean, you already know there's some
monkey business going on... aliens and suchlike...?"

Muriel nodded. She was more than ready to suspend disbelief as long as it
meant that she'd be making and selling more custom bras. Like most Discoveries
employees, she was an enthusiast when it came to huge breasts. "Go on, Emma,"
she said.

"Their spaceship is a Ladies' portable toilet, and it's staffed by two little
guys in silver suits and a disembodied female Voice. She's the boss, and once
a young girl goes in there they won't - they're not allowed to - let her go
without giving her bigger tits. We've all seen them, apart from Pooch, here,
and it's all true. Valerie and I were in there a couple of days ago, and the
Voice told us that they used to double the size of your breasts, as a minimum.
But now the minimum's gone up to 199%, at least, and in poor Valerie's case
they're going to do some weight distribution as well, which means that her
boobs will be getting even bigger."

"Oh, shit!" said Pooch. "That could mean she might not have grown at all yet!"

"What?"

"Her weight has been redistributed, hasn't it. Her measurements have moved
around but they still add up to whatever they added up to in the first place.
Exactly the same! So her boobs are miles bigger than two days ago. But maybe
they've still got to get four times as big as they are now!"

They all stared at Valerie's chest. It heaved and wobbled with every little
movement, and being a young girl, Valerie couldn't stand still for more than a
second.

"She'll be bigger than me!" said Emma.

"Comfortably," said Muriel. "If 'comfortably' is the right word."

"Hey, that's so cool, Pooch!" said the victim herself. She swung her already
huge bosom from side to side. "What are you all staring at?"

"All I'm wondering," said Muriel, "is how I'm going to make a bra to fit this
little girl of yours that will still fit her in two days' time."

"She'll have to have one," said Emma. "We've come all the way here on the
train. We can't go back to Daddy empty-handed."

Muriel laughed. "Luckily, I don't need to make a bra at all."

"Oh, yeah?" Zoe said with a little sneer. "I suppose you've already got one
the right size in stock!"

"Not quite. There isn't much demand for 38O-cups, even down here on the sunny
south coast. But I have got this one. A woman returned it a few weeks ago.
Oddly enough, it was a special order for her youngest daughter, and the girl
had outgrown it by the time she got it home. Only thirteen, too..."

Valerie opened her mouth to protest. "But I'm not thirt..."

"Shhh-hhh, Valerie, listen to Muriel."

"As I say, it's not a 38O cup, but it will probably do for Valerie for a day
or two. I can let you have it for a tenner as long as you come back here next
week, or whenever she's done growing. You can have the ten pounds back against
the cost of the new bra, of course."

"Well..." Emma looked uncertain. "If Valerie can put up with a bit of
discomfort for a few days. As long as it isn't too much too small."

"It won't be too small," said Muriel. "I'll need to extend the straps at the
back but that won't take me five minutes. It's a 34T-cup, so there'll be room
in the cups for her to grow."

"No shit!" Valerie exclaimed.

The rest of them were silent. It was Pooch who finally said what they were all
thinking. "So what happened to this thirteen-year-old who suddenly grew too
big for a 34T-cup bra?"

"Oh, she still comes in every now and again, her and her sisters. Of course,
being the youngest, her bust is far bigger than theirs. In fact, she must be
about sixty inches by now, and she's not fat... not like... I mean, not that
Valerie's fat, as such, she's just large-boned..."

It wasn't the prettiest bra in the world, but Muriel was already busy with her
machine, extending the straps with their eight heavy-duty hooks. She finished,
snapped off the end of the thread and held it up. The mighty pink lacy cups
draped themselves over her hands.

"Wow!" said Valerie. "For me?"

Emma and Zoe gasped.

Pooch suddenly had to sit down.

Valerie looked at him with interest. "Have you got a hard-on, Pooch?"

"He'd better not have!" said Emma dangerously, her fists on her hips.

"Leave the poor lad alone, Em!" said Zoe in an undertone. "He's only human.
Being in the same room as Valerie without her shirt on is probably enough to
give a marble statue an erection. Besides, you'll be the one taking advantage
of it later, you lucky cow!"

Valerie's new bra was probably the pointiest one any of them had ever seen. It
didn't seem like an unusual shape until she put it on, but then Muriel put her
hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. "Oops! I'd forgotten how pointy T-cup
Trisha's tits are. How's it feel, Valerie?"

Valerie looked down at herself. "I feel really big!"

"That's because you are. Does it fit okay round your back?"

"It feels good round the back. The front feels funny. It makes my nips stick
out."

The others nodded in agreement. It did. Valerie's monster areolae seemed to be
thrust forward into the outsized cups, apparently filling them easily. And
even when she'd squeezed herself back into the rugby shirt, she still looked
spectacular, like one of those conical-breasted pinup stars of the 1950s,
although the youngster's breasts were probably three times as big.

They clustered round to try and hide her from the public on the street, at the
station, on the train back to Brownwater and on the bus to the campsite. Emma
and Zoe were wondering how they were going to keep her hidden from the boys on
the beach. Pooch's erection was so stiff he thought it might break. Valerie
just wanted to get laid.

Valerie wasn't the only one who just wanted to get laid. Emma, Zoe and Pooch
also wanted it in the worst possible way, and as quickly as possible. And as a
thunderstorm broke less than five minutes after they arrived back at the
campsite, they had every good excuse not to go to the beach but to retire
immediately to their tents.

Zoe found Gordon hanging around like a lost puppy and immediately hustled him
away.

Emma and Pooch dived into Emma's tent and began humping without even bothering
to get undressed.

So the two loving couples got precisely what they'd wished for: sex in the
worst possible way and as quickly as possible. Not a minute after they had
started, they had finished, whining and frustrated.

Valerie struck lucky. Making sure that her Uncle George had seen her arrive,
she wandered into her bedroom and didn't even bother zipping up the
compartment door after her. Kneeling on her mattress she peeled off the now
painfully-tight rugby shirt and stared down at her bosom.

"Hello? Valerie? Did you get a new bra...?" Uncle George peered into the
semi-darkness. He could see something but he wasn't sure if he could believe
it or not. A nicely-timed flash of lightning removed his doubts. He was
looking at a fully-sideways-on view of the kneeling Valerie in nothing but bra
and pants. The crash of thunder mingled with the girl's squeal of terror.

"I'm scared, Uncle George!"

"Sweetheart!" he exclaimed, diving into the little sleeping compartment and
enfolding Valerie in his arms. Just in time she turned to face him and her
breasts squashed against his chest. "Don't be frightened. It's only God moving
the furniture around up in Heaven! Is this your new bra?" he added, his
attention turning to more immediate matters. "It seems very tight."

Valerie wriggled free and lay on her back, spreading her legs wide and
literally tearing off her panties. She groped for the front of her uncle's
shorts. She had the field to herself as his hands were fully occupied higher
up. "Take it off for me!" she pleaded.

"I can't... the hooks are at the back! God, you're so big, Valerie!"

"Pull it up over my boobs, just let me out of it!"

"I can't... it's too tight!"

"Oh, you're useless!" Valerie abandoned her efforts to get her Uncle George to
penetrate her lush maidenhood. She sat up and reached behind her, thrusting
her breasts into his face, then yanked off the bra and flung it away. George
grabbed his tool in one hand and guided it between the ripe, pointed,
quivering globes.

"Not in there! Put it in me!" she screamed.

"Later! Next time!"

Emma and Pooch listened glumly to this yelled conversation as the rain stopped
pattering on the tent roof above their heads.

"Listen to them! The shameless little bitch - and my dad!"

"What did she mean? 'Not in there'?"

"I hate to think. He must have been putting it in the wrong hole."

Pooch pondered that in silence, feeling the soggy chill soaking though his
underwear. Too late to get undressed now. He tried to pull the duvet over his
loins.

"You're not going to sleep on me, are you?" Emma accused him sharply.

"Me? No!"

"Oooh, George!"

"Valerie!"

"Jeez, not again!" Emma groaned. "What's the time?"

"I don't know. It's daylight. Five o' clock?"

"Valerie, they're even bigger!"

"Wow, cool!"

"My God, look at the size of them!"

"Yeah!"

Emma and Pooch sat up and looked at each other, panic on their faces.

"Bigger?" Emma blinked.

"That's what he said. And she said it was cool."

"She would!"

"You think she's even bigger than last night?"

"It sounds like it. I wonder how big she is. She can't have grown all that
much, can she?"

"Why not? The normal rules don't apply. This is alien software. Look at me,
and last year, when it happened to me, the limit was only 99%."

"You were a big girl before it happened, though."

"Valerie wasn't exactly small, for her age. And she's huge for any age now."

"That was yesterday, and she hadn't even started growing then, she was still
only having her weight redistributed. We don't know how huge she is now, Em!"

"You're getting hard again, Poochie, darling!"

"Ummm, so I am..."

"It's that little slut that's doing it, isn't it!"

"Valerie, your nipples!"

"Suck them harder, Georgie!"

"Your breasts are so big now, they're making your waist look smaller!"

"Wow, yeah!"

Emma groaned again.

"She's still redistributing!" said Pooch.

"She can't be!"

"Let's go and see if we can sneak up and spy on them, Em!"

"You perverted little swine, that's my dad in there!"

"Yeah, and your cousin. Don't you want to see how big she is?"

"We'll see, at breakfast time."

"She might have exploded by then!"

"Little girls don't explode!"

"She isn't a little girl."

Emma sat up and groped around for her clothes. She found a pair of shorts and
sniffed at the crotch to see if they were fit to wear. Pooch watched her for a
moment then grabbed at his own stuff. He hadn't expected Emma to play along
with his idea but it seemed she was.

"Can we find a hole to look through?"

"There's a window in her bedroom. We can creep round the back. Come on!"

"I'm coming! Let me pull these shorts up..."

They skulked through the wet grass, avoiding the guy ropes in the dawn light.
Breathing heavily they stooped and peered through the clear plastic window.
Nothing.

"Can you see them?"

"No." Emma stepped back and looked at the tent. "This isn't the right window,
this is Gordon's bedroom. Hers is this next one."

They crept along the wall of the tent and tried again. Once more they bent to
look inside, then a second later they pulled back and stared at one another.

"Fucking hell!" said Emma.

"Oh, my God!"

"She's monstrous!"

She felt for Pooch, who was right behind her. He was fearsomely erect, bigger
and harder and throbbier than she'd ever felt him.

"Put that thing in me, Pooch," she hissed urgently.

"Look at her tits, Em! We've got to measure those things!"

"Measure? You're obsessed with numbers!"