"HELVETICA WHO?"
Miss Labia looked at me scornfully. "From the First Form. The Games Captain. She's in deep shit," she ended with relish. "In you go, girl!"
Helvetica came trotting into the office, propelled from behind by a well-timed shove from Miss Labia.
I opened the folder in front of me and read the single sheet of paper. Then I turned it over and read the other side. It was blank.
Helvetica stood to attention in front of the desk.
"Well, young lady. And what do you have to say for yourself?"
So, it's a cliché. See if I care.
Helvetica began to cry. I handed her a wad of industrial paper towel. "Sit down," I said as kindly as I could. "Now, what's been the trouble?"
The girl heaved a shuddering sob. "I didn't mean to, Miss, but I was playing hockey, so I missed one day. Then the next day, Miss Malone wasn't in, so that was two. And we had a field trip with Miss Lundberg and that was three. So I only had one more day to do it, and I couldn't get all four squirts into one little squeeze bottle, so I..."
The story had a familiar ring to it.
"Squeeze bottle? What were you trying to do? Who told you to do this?"
"They didn't tell me to... I mean not like that. I was supposed to do it gradually, once a day, but the first day I was playing hock..."
"Never mind all that stuff again. Now listen, Helvetica. This wasn't your own idea?"
She sobbed and shook her head tearfully. "No, Miss Gruntworthy."
"Right. I won't ask you to tell tales on your schoolmates. Just answer yes or no. Were the Woods cousins involved in this?"
Helvetica nodded, tears flying on to the green leather topped desk. It must have been newly polished. They rolled about like little balls of mercury.
"They gave you this stuff and told you to...?"
Another nod.
"But it was your idea to...?"
"Yes, Miss."
"Why did you say you'd do it for them? Did they offer you anything? Money?"
"Not money, Miss."
"What then?" As if I didn't know.
"They said as soon as the job was done, they would Grow me. With Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus."
I had guessed.
"And you agreed to that?" Was there no end to the gullibility of girls? And women? Offer them huge breasts and they will become putty in your hands.
She nodded dumbly.
"Oh, Helvetica! For the promise of a pair of breasts, which you will surely grow anyway, if your family history is anything to go by — I opened my desk drawer and confirmed Helvetica's family breast stats: highly favourable — if you grow up to be like your sisters and your mother, you are going to be very well endowed indeed. Especially your second oldest sister! Aren't you?"
She nodded again.
"How is she, by the way?"
"Monstrous, Miss. Miles bigger now than when she was here! She gets her bras made by a sail-maker."
It wasn't easy, but I tried to remember where I was in my lecture. "And yet you still accepted this bribe. And you sneaked into the staff room and threw a bucket of something all over Miss Malone's bottom!"
"Yes, Miss."
"It was quite a good shot, too."
"Yes, Miss!" Helvetica's eyes lit up through the tears and she grinned infectiously. "She was leaning over the table and her panties were right there in front of me. I gave her the whole bucket full, right up her jacksy, Miss!"
"So she told me. It was a terrible, shameful thing to do, Helvetica. Shameful."
"Yes, Miss."
"You will have to be punished, most severely. I could expel you for this, or suspend you and send you home."
The girl went white as a sheet. "No, Miss! Not that."
"What was in the bucket, Helvetica?"
They said it was something for Miss Malone's sore bottom, Miss. She can't sit down. I was only trying to make her better."
"I thought as much," I muttered to myself. "Hemagon."
"That's the word, Miss. Suzanne told me."
"Right, listen very carefully. You have been a dreadful, dreadful little girl. I am not going to expel you. You will write out fifty thousand times, in your best handwriting, 'I Really ought Not To Take Any notice Of the Woods Cousins When They Make Me Throw Hemagon Over The PE Teacher's Bottom.' Not forgetting the capitals."
"Yes, Miss," she sighed hopelessly. "Does that include the capitals on 'ought' and 'notice', Miss?"
"For being a cheeky little girl, make it a hundred thousand."
"Yes, Miss."
"Alternatively, you may do a week of jankers."
"Jankers, Miss?" A drowning girl will clutch at a straw.
"Punishment duty. Every night after school for four hours, until bedtime."
"What do I have to do, Miss?"
"Miss Mountains needs a girl to help sort the soiled panties. She will give you the details. You will accept this punishment?"
"Yes, Miss. Yes, please, Miss!"
"Very well. You are excused the hundred thousand lines." It would have been terrible having to count them anyway. "Stand up!" Helvetica got to her feet, shaking. "Go and see Miss Mountains directly after school, in her room. Dismiss."
She had reached the door when I called her back. I have seen those military movies, too. The secret is in the timing.
"Helvetica."
She turned round. "Yes, Miss?" Obviously she had watched the same movies as me.
"Did they give you the Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus?"
"No, Miss. Pansy said I hadn't done it right." Helvetica was a girl with a deep sense of injustice. I think I would have been, as well.
"Bad luck, love. I'm really sorry for you. Those cousins are absolute bastards. Off you go!"
The kid would do well at St Cat's. If only she had a half decent set of tits on her, she would be potential Head Girl material.
"How are the cheerleaders coming along?" I dipped another strawberry in the mound of whipped cream and slid it between Angelica's lips.
"Great, Headmistress! We're having a competition to write a new cheer. The girls have already worked one out for the netball tomorrow."
"Show me," I sighed lustily, leaning back against the headboard.
Angelica giggled deliciously. "I can't, can I? Not with strawberries and cream all over my tummy. You'll have to finish me off first. Oops! I meant, finish them off. The strawberries."
I was full up. The strawberries had seemed like a good idea as a dessert, but there were enough in the basket for three or four helpings, and I had Angelica to myself on this rare occasion.
"Here," she said, anointing a strawberry and offering it to me.
"I can't! They're coming out of my ears."
"I can't eat them all myself, Headmistress." Nevertheless, the fruit disappeared into her mouth. She took another. "Here, try this one, it's smaller." She dipped it in the cream, then parted her thighs slightly and gave an involuntary shudder as she dipped it again lower down. "It's sweeter, too!"
It was.
"Ooooh, Angelica!" I came thunderously while she watched me in awe.
"Sheesh," she said at last when I finally stopped woo-woo-woo-ing. "Oh, my! Don't move, Headmistress." And she arranged herself into a new position on the bed so I could reach her sweetly mounded belly without needing to move. "That's better, isn't it?"
There was a knock on the door, and Angelica looked up at me anxiously.
"Let them go away," I whispered.
The knock came again as soon as I took another Angelica-flavoured strawberry.
"Miss?"
"It's one of the girls?"
"Shall I let her in?"
Angelica got off the bed carefully, the last of the strawberries sticking in the whipped cream, contrasting delightfully with her chocolate complexion. If she was happy answering the door completely naked apart from a light coating of summer fruit salad, I was more than happy to watch her. The powerful buttocks twitched towards the door and I had to grab at a handful of industrial paper towel to soak up the fresh supply of my juices.
"Helvetica?" Angelica stood back and let the girl in. She took in the unfamiliar scene. She was too new at St Cat's to be used to the sight of naked teachers. In fact, some people never get used to it.
"What is it, dear? It's very late."
"Sorry to interrupt, Miss Gruntworthy, Miss Grimbo, I've been sorting panties. Miss Mountains has gone out, Miss."
"I know."
"Sorry, Miss! I haven't had a chance to wash my hands..."
"I wasn't complaining about the smell, Helvetica, I meant I know about Miss Mountains going out. She's got a really heavy date." I wondered why I was bothering to tell the girl this.
"Well, she left me a huge pile to get on with. I'd nearly done, when I started getting this funny tingly feeling, Miss. Up here, Miss." She pointed a stubby finger at her extra large T-shirt. It was apparently all she was wearing, and it had a simply disgraceful slogan on the front. Disgraceful.
"Tingly? In your chest?"
I exchanged significant glances with Angelica, who was idly finishing off her strawberries and cream.
"In my nipples, Miss." Helvetica blushed prettily. Then she seemed to make a decision. "It was getting worse, Miss. Although it didn't feel bad. Not horrible. Quite nice, actually. And that was when I had a look. Look, Miss."
She hoisted her T-shirt before I could stop her. Not that I would, of course.
I was just rehearsing a prepared speech about her accepting Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus from the Woods cousins when I remembered she hadn't. She'd certainly done something, though.
"I've got puffies, Miss. Look at them!"
"I am, I am!" I had never seen anything quite like them. Helvetica still had barely detectable swellings on her chest, but now, sprouting from their centres, were the most remarkable areolae I had ever seen. I wish I could describe them. I mean, really do them justice. But it takes special words to do that. More than anything, they reminded me of halved oranges. Large oranges. Not grapefruit. Not any fruit at all, really. The shape was wrong for fruit. These things just sort of stood out, dark pink and crowned with tiny nipples.
"Come here, Helvetica," I told her. She approached the Presence.
"Ooooh, Miss! It don't half tingle when you do that! Oooo! And that"
"You may put them away now, Helvetica."
I watched them go with regret. They created a substantial rack beneath the T-shirt, despite their being only areolae, not fully-grown tits. They must have stuck out all of three inches.
Angelica, I noticed, had finished off the strawberries and was pursuing the last of the runny cream which had presumably trickled down between her legs. At least, I assumed that was what she was doing.
The look in her big expressive eyes was pure lust. And envy. And probably a few more deadly sins thrown in for good measure. Her little pink protruding tongue was sending my spleen into convulsions.
"Thank you, Helvetica. You may go to your dorm. You had better come and see me in the morning.
Panic spread quickly over her face.
"It's all right, dear. We just need to decide what's to be done about those puffies of yours. We may need Miss Clitress to design a new specially shaped bra for you. Good night."
"'Night, Miss."
It was only much later, when Angelica had returned to her room, that I remembered. She hadn't demonstrated that new routine she mentioned earlier.
"I thought we weren't going to give that Junior girl any Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus." Pansy stood with her hands on her hips. It was an aggressive pose, its effects limited only slightly by the fact that her arms were completely invisible from the front.
"I didn't give her any." Suzanne countered.
"Well, somebody did. And nobody else has got any but us. It must have been you."
"Or you. What's happened to her, anyway. I never look at Juniors."
"You'd better look at this one. She's grown. Or Grown. They're out here somewhere." Pansy demonstrated ineffectively. Since her arms weren't long enough to reach the ends of her breasts, she was incapable of showing how far 'out here' really represented.
"Maybe she's stuffing her bra. Have you felt them?"
"Course I haven't felt them! I don't go around groping Juniors."
"She's probably stuffing, then. I bet she told all the other Firsts that she was getting big tits, then when she screwed up with Molly Malone's arse she had to pretend. They'll all find out when she gets stripped for PE."
"I saw her walking across the quad," said Pansy. "They didn't look stuffed. They were a funny shape, not what you'd get if she had a bra full of rolled-up socks."
"Did they jiggle?"
"No. What's that prove?"
"Nothing," Suzanne admitted. "I just wondered if they jiggled, that's all. I like to see a nice jiggly pair of tits."
"We'll soon know, anyway. If she's bigger through using Grow, she won't stop. She'll be huge by the end of the week. They'll need a new Form Head."
"You mean she'll be bigger than that Chinese kid?"
"Easy! You know how strong Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus is. And that stuff was an extra special batch."
"But we didn't give her any. You didn't, and nor did I."
Pansy thought about it for a moment. "But if she isn't using Grow, how's she grown so much? The First Form Sexual Chemistry Group haven't invented anything yet, have they?"
"That lot? They couldn't invent their way out of a paper bag. They're supposed to be working on that new stuff."
"Puff!"
"Yeah, Puff! I'll believe that stuff when I see it. They can't even boil water yet."
"But something's done it, Suze. She can't have just grown naturally. Not as quick as that."
Suzanne was silent. The same terrible thought had occurred to them both.
Pansy groaned. "Is there any left?"
"What, Hemagon?"
"Yeah."
"A drop in the bottom of the container."
"We'd better have a look at it, then. Come on."
"What, now?"
"No time like the present, Suze. If Hemagon makes tits grow, we need to find out what it's going to do to Miss Malone's piles."
"Well, whatever it does, it's done now. She's had two gallons of it chucked up her arse. Have you seen old Molly since it happened?"
"Nah. I don't do PE, do I? I never see her."
"Have you seen Miss Malone lately?" I scanned the horizon with the binoculars. It was free of busty girls so I lowered them with disappointment.
Smegs joined me at the window. "The netball match is at four o' clock. She'll have to be there for that. Why?"
"I was wondering what was in that stuff that Helvetica threw over her bum. Hemagon. It could be what made Helvetica's boobs grow. If Hemagon makes boobs grow, we don't want any around the school. It will have to be destroyed."
"You can't uninvent it, Shan. If Hemagon makes boobs grow, it makes boobs grow, and that's all there is to it. The question is, does it get rid of piles? If it does, we can sell it."
"If those Woods girls had anything to do with it, I can't imagine it doing any good for piles sufferers at all. Since when did anything they made ever work the way it's supposed to?"
"You're a fine one! It was you that chose them to make Hemagon in the first place. Why didn't you get Anastasia to do it?"
I hung my head in deepest shame. I was useless. Useless.
"Anastasia might not have made Hemagon work, but at least it wouldn't have made boobs grow."
I knew. Tears spilled from my eyes and dripped on to the binoculars. Worthless Chauntaille.
"You really ought to think before you rush ahead and do these things, Shan."
"Yes, Smegs. I'm sorry, Smegs."
"God alone knows what you've done to Molly Malone by your stupid actions. If she takes you to court, you'll be banged up for the rest of your natural..."
A movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. I brushed away a tear and looked again. I grabbed a handful of industrial paper towel and wiped vigorously. I grabbed Smegs's arm and shook it. "Look! Smegs!"
"She may never walk again. Her bottom might heal up. Or anything..."
"Look! Out there!"
"And don't expect me to visit you in jail with a file baked into a cake. Let go! Stop pulling at my bloody arm, girl!"
"Look, out there!"
"Where?"
Smegs looked. I looked. There was nothing. But I had seen it. Until she had disappeared round the corner of the quad, I had seen Miss Molly Malone in her tracksuit, running, running, across the quad with an easy, loping stride. Every inch an athlete.
Miss Clitress hung the tape measure round her neck and placed her hands on her hips. "Well, what have you been rubbing on those?"
"Nothing! They just grew like it!" Helvetica whimpered. "Miss Gruntworthy said I would have big tits, same as my mum and my sisters."
"There's big tits and there's big tits," said Miss Clitress with deep significance in every word. "I've never seen any that shape in my life, and I've seen thousands of tits. It ain't natural. Those are chemical tits."
"I haven't done anything, Miss Clit. I wanted to use Grow, but the Woods girls wouldn't give me any."
Miss Clitress snorted her opinion of the Woods cousins, Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus, and everything else of a chemical nature. "What am I supposed to do with tits that shape? Look at the things!" She picked up a fistful of assorted bra cups and threw them down again. "They're more like aubergines than melons."
"Aubergines are purple, Miss Clit."
"Get out and come back in the morning. You're a horrible little Junior girl!"
Helvetica gasped in horror. "But I'm playing netball tonight. I've got to have a bra. They won't let me play without one."
"That's your problem!"
"But I'm captain! They're useless without me."
"They're useless with you, too. They couldn't do much worse. You'll have to borrow a bra, or wear your old one."
"But it's miles too small. It will explode!"
"That might distract the opposition and you might actually score a goal." Miss Clitress sniggered unpleasantly. "Good luck tonight!" She opened the door and propelled Helvetica through it. "Puffies," she snarled viciously.
"Delivery for yer. You the 'edmistress?"
I surveyed the unpleasant little man who was rolling up the back door of his appalling white van. "Deliveries don't come to me. Take them to the caretaker. What is it anyway?"
"I dunno, do I? I only delivers boxes. I dunno wot's in 'em, do I? An' it says it's for the 'edmistress, dunnit? That's you. Miss Grunt. Wurvy." He squinted at his clipboard. "So sign 'ere and I'll get 'em off for yer. Git a move on. I gotta nuvver firty drops to do sarf noon, en I?"
"I ain't signing nuffin... I'm not signing anything unless I know what it is," I insisted, just managing to avoid adding an 'am I' to the end of the sentence.
"That's your funeral, ennit?" He was already stacking a pile of cartons just outside the double doors. The pile was as high as his head. He started another pile.
"How many are there?" The boxes were all identical, printed with the mysterious legend, 'Whipped Cream Spray — 48 cans — Warning. Pressurised Containers. Dispose of Safely.' "We haven't ordered whipped cream. It makes the girls come out in spots."
"Nah!" He completed his second pile and started a third. "Tha's juss wot it sez on the boxes, ennit? Christ, they don't teach you lot nuffin' these days, do vey?" He was beginning to puff with the effort. "Only anuvver twenny," he assured me.
It was a neat stack, ten boxes high, five separate piles. The wretched man certainly knew his job. It would take me years to learn how to stack boxes like that. He thrust the clipboard at me and I took it with reluctance. "Where do I sign?"
He indicated with a grubby finger. "Darn there, ennit? Where it says Gruntwurvy."
I signed, and printed my name next to it.
"Cheers, luv!" I thought he was going to give me a kiss. He clambered into his cab, the van already grunting into life and surging forward in a cloud of acrid smoke. "You wanna get that lot indoors berfore it starts pissin' darn, yeah?" And he was gone.
He was right, of course. It was pissin' darn within ten minutes. By the time a human chain of Junior girls had been organised to get the boxes inside, the cardboard cartons were soggy and falling apart, and the girls were dripping wet, their blouses transparent.
"Hey, Miss, look! It really is whipped cream!"
"Can we have a can each, Miss? For helping?"
"No, it will bring you out in spots."
"Oh, Miss!"
They were so dejected and so wet-looking, I weakened. One can between every two of you, then, no more."
It was obviously better than they had hoped for. The top box was quickly pulled apart, and they excitedly helped themselves. "Thanks, Miss!"
"You're a sport, Miss!"
Which reminded me. I was going to be late for the netball match.
"IT'S ALL right, Jeremy, we can go now."
"We're late, Headmistress," he complained with all due respect. "You've kept us hanging around for twenty minutes. You can do the explaining when we're late arriving."
"We've got stacks of time. Put your foot down."
We clung to each other as the minibus swayed around the corners. It was seven miles to the Buckminster-Fuller Comprehensive. We did it in about one and a half minutes, arriving exhilarated and aroused.
I let go of Angelica with some reluctance. She was wearing her cheerleader's outfit. I was seriously tempted to ask Jeremy to drive once more round the block while I got to grips with her magnificent body again.
"Are you coming, Miss?"
The last of the girls had dismounted from the bus and was peering in through the door in some surprise. Angelica made an excuse and detached herself from my clutches. "Come on, Headmistress," she said softly, taking me by the hand and helping me down the steps. I felt like a grandmother.
Miss Malone, grim-faced, was leading the girls away to the changing room. She was moving with great freedom, I noticed. Something seemed to have wrought an instant cure for her haemorrhoids. Smegs parked her car and came over to us.
"We'd better start bottling that Hemagon and marketing it. Looks like a sure-fire winner. Look at her! Like a two-year-old."
"I always wondered about that expression. Two-year-olds aren't all that mobile, are they?"
"They mean horses, Shan," Smegs explained with deep patience. I felt like a grandmother again. I simply don't know anything.
"Come on, it's freezing out here!" I suppose Angelica was feeling the chill in that skimpy outfit. Ah, yes, you could see she was. Funny, though, only one of her nipples was erect.
Jeremy had arrived with the second consignment of girls, the St Cat's Puffies Supporters Club, as they described themselves on their crudely-lettered banner. They filled the available benches of the sports hall, creating a splash of colour in their neat blazers, in refreshing contrast to the drab greys of the BFC kids. Boys as well as girls, I noticed. How dreadful! What interest could boys possibly have in Junior netball. Already, they seemed to be getting bored, pushing and shoving each other, chanting hoarsely like a football crowd. For some reason, they seemed to be repeating endlessly a dirge with words that sounded like 'Netball's Cummin' Ome'.
"What are they singing about?" I asked Smegs.
"It's a song, Shan," she whispered. "Don't worry about it."
The boys seemed to be pointing at our girls, scornfully, almost as if they were making their selection for later sexual exploits. Mercifully, our girls sat demurely, talking quietly amongst themselves in soft, well-modulated tones: model students. An example to these rough Comprehensive school children.
The teams appeared, to riotous applause. They were followed out of the changing room by the St Cat's cheerleaders, prancing out with happy expressions on their scrubbed faces, followed by Angelica, her limbs gleaming as if she had been freshly oiled. So, I noticed, were the cheerleaders. They had been rubbing something on their exposed flesh. They shone in the overhead lights.
"Look at them, Smegs! Aren't they magnificent?"
"What have they been doing? They're all shiny!"
"Yeah!"
The boys were silenced. The last gruff croaking of recently descended testicles died away. They stared, transfixed, at Angelica and her girls as they lined up below our supporters and looked at each other nervously, waiting for the word.
"They've been rehearsing a new cheer, Angelica was saying," I whispered to Smegs.
"Have you seen it?"
"Not yet. But they've had hours of rehearsals. It's got to be good."
They had started. To get warmed up and gain confidence, they swung straight into their original routine. "Puffies, Puffies, Watch Them Grow. Puffies, Puffies, Go Go Go!"
The home team's supporters were struck dumb. This was beyond their comprehension. It wasn't sporting. How were they supposed to play against such tactics? The girls ended in a flurry of synchronised high kicks. As far as I could tell, anyway: my eyes were fixed on the extravagantly-bouncing Sally. And when I did tear my eyes away from those hugely-rebounding watermelons, all I could see was the hirsute belly of Miranda. The routine ended and the girls came to rest, panting. Sally heaved her breasts more securely into her barely adequate bra cups. Miranda tucked away a few stray handfuls of pubic hair.
Then they were off again. "Eat 'em up Puff-ies! Eat 'em up!" (stomp stomp) "Eat 'em up, Puff-ies! Eat 'em up!"
The two stomps in the middle echoed throughout the sports hall, as Sally pounded her considerable bulk on the wooden floor. And suddenly, our demure girls took up the refrain, their cut-glass voices soaring in descant to the rafters, making the hairs on the backs of our necks stand on end... "Eat 'em up Puff-ies! Eat 'em up!" (stomp stomp) "Eat 'em up, Puff-ies! Eat 'em up!"
The stomping was deafening. At the end, absolute silence fell, and the whistle sounded. The game was on.
St Cat's were inspired. They surged forward on to the attack, the ball flying from hand to hand as if on string. Within seconds of the start, a burst of girlish cheering broke out as the ball dropped through the ring and settled in the net. Our first ever score this season, in any sport of any description.
"Eat 'em up Puff-ies! Eat 'em up!" (stomp stomp) "Eat 'em up, Puff-ies! Eat 'em up!" The girls squealed and stomped and sang, as St Cat's plundered forward again, into the hands of Helvetica, up, and through the net again! Smegs and I were out of our seats, screaming blue murder.
"I thought you said Helvetica had got tits," Smegs yelled in my ear.
"They must have shrunk. She had great big puffies yesterday. Out here somewhere..."
"Eat 'em out Puff-ies! Eat 'em out!" (stomp stomp) "Eat 'em out, Puff-ies! Eat 'em out!"
Angelica looked vaguely troubled. She was waving her arms at the girls on the banked seating. They waved politely back hat her and continued to sing. "Lick 'em out Puff-ies! Lick 'em out!" (stomp stomp) "Lick 'em out, Puff-ies! Lick 'em out!"
Helvetica slotted another goal. Three!
"Are those the right words?"
Smegs shrugged. "They seem to fit all right." Angelica looked agitated. She clutched the arm of the girl on the end and shook it. It made no difference to the singing. The girl smirked at her. "Suck 'em off Puff-ies! Suck 'em off!" (stomp stomp) "Suck 'em off, Puff-ies! Suck 'em off!"
Four!
"Eat 'em up Puff-ies! Eat 'em up!" (stomp stomp) "Eat 'em up, Puff-ies! Eat 'em up, Eat 'em out, Lick 'em out, Suck 'em off, Fuck 'em up!" (stomp stomp).
Silence.
"I'm sure they've got the wrong words," I said, as the play surged forward again. Down at the front, Angelica seemed to be speaking sternly to the cheerleaders. They were shaking their heads, holding their hands out wide in attitudes of innocence.
Five!
High up on the wooden seats, our spectators had obviously enjoyed the previous cheer. They did it again, with the addition of hand clapping. "Eat 'em up Puff-ies! Eat 'em up" (stomp stomp) After the stomp, the girls rose to their feet and turned to face the stunned home supporters: taunting, pointing fingers.
"Eat 'em up Puff-ies! Eat 'em up!" (stomp stomp) "Eat 'em up, Puff-ies! Eat 'em up, Eat 'em out, Lick 'em out, Suck 'em off, Fuck 'em up!" (stomp stomp). This time I was absolutely certain they had the wrong words. Immediately after the final stomp, our lovely girls turned their backs on the rest of the crowd, stuck out their pert bottoms, hoisted their skirts and made a rude noise in perfect unison. How they made that noise, I wasn't sure. I assume they did it with their mouths. Surely?
Six!
"I'm going down there," I told Smegs, as soon as the whistle sounded for half time. "I'm going to talk to the girls."
"You? What do you know about netball?"
"Nothing. But they're my girls. They need me."
Even I knew how bullshitty that must have sounded, but I made my way down the steps, past our supporters, past the curious eyes of the BFC crowd, grey-clad girls and spotty-faced boys, their eyes on my womanly figure as I reached court level and approached the team. They had gathered round Molly Malone, who was droning on at them about positions and tactics and stuff.
"Get stuck into them, you lot," I screamed at them. "Give them shit!"
"Miss?" Helvetica looked at me in surprise. She was rubbing her chest in an absent-minded way.
"These Comprehensive girls suck," I elaborated. "Stuff the bastards."
Helvetica shrugged. "You heard Miss Gruntworthy," she said, "stuff the bastards!"
"Stuff the bastards," the girls repeated dutifully.
The cheerleaders were still getting a tongue-lashing from Angelica. I could just see their glum faces if I craned my neck. Helvetica was still rubbing at her chest.
"Is there something wrong with your boobs, Helvetica?" I asked her, and heard a gasp of outrage from Miss Malone.
"They're squashed flat, Miss, that's all. It's that Miss Clitress, she said I had to wear my old bra. I'm nearly exploding, Miss."
"Let me have a feel." The other girls in the team gasped in delight as I felt Helvetica's chest.
"Wow, Miss!"
"Corrr, Miss, do mine as well!"
"Feel me up, Miss!"
"Take your shirt off, Helvetica! Gather round, the rest of you." They formed an obedient huddle. When it dispersed, Helvetica was a different girl. She stuck out her chest. Actually, she didn't really need to, it stuck out perfectly well on its own.
"Wheeeeee, Vets, look at those!"
"Wow, Vets, you've got tits!"
"Hey, c'mon, Puffies!"
I tossed Helvetica's useless bra aside. It slithered across the polished floor and disappeared the instant it reached the ranks of the BFC boy supporters. They were goggling in disbelief at the big blonde Junior with the suddenly large breasts.
The referee was making anxious noises as if she wanted to get this show on the road and get home to her fish and chips with mushy peas with her live-in lesbian life companion. Or possibly a chicken tikka masala ready-meal for one. She gave an apologetic peep on her whistle.
"Go on, then, you lot!" I patted each girl encouragingly on the bottom. "Finish them off." I found myself almost wishing I had a large roll of industrial paper towel to wipe my damp hand. Meanwhile, the cheerleaders' briefing was still in progress.
"All right," Angelica was wagging an admonitory finger in the face of each girl in turn. They each went cross-eyed looking at it. "Let's hear it for St Cat's, okay? And we stick with the words we rehearsed. Right?"
"All right!"
"All right?"
"All right!"
There are only so many ways of saying the same thing, I suppose. I clambered back up the steps to my seat, aware in my slightly too short skirt of the upward scrutiny of the spectators. It was only as I sat down next to Smegs that I realised. "I forgot to ask Molly Malone how her arse was."
I doubt if she would have told you."
"She was looking daggers at me the whole time. And these boys were all staring at me too. I think I ought to register a stiff complaint to the Principal."
"You can't really blame them, Shan. Your tit's hanging out, after all."
"My what?" I peered down, but I couldn't really see anything. "Which one?"
The left one. It could be worse. Your right one's bigger."
Smegs really has a way of bolstering one's morale.
"What's all this stuff?" Smegs inspected the stack of slightly soggy boxes.
"Whipped cream. A man delivered it earlier."
"What for? Who ordered two hundred dozen cans of instant whipped cream?" Smegs was expert at assessing quantities. She plucked a can out of the top carton, removed the cap and sprayed a short burst on to the back of her hand. She licked at it cautiously. "It's warm." She pulled a face. But she tucked the can down her cleavage and started up the stairs.
"Hoi, I signed for that."
"There's plenty more left. Somebody's nicked half a box already."
"That was the girls. I gave them a few cans for helping carry them inside."
"It will only bring them out in spots." A funny look came into Smegs's face. "Where's Angelica," she whispered. Her tongue was hanging out.
"She's over in the Junior dorm seeing to the cheerleaders. She'll be back in a min..."
"Good! Come on!" And Smegs came back, easily picked up three of the boxes and set off up the stairs with them. "Bring some as well," she shouted as she turned the corner.
"But it's not ours. It might have to go back to the warehouse." I picked up two boxes and followed her. As I entered my room, Smegs was already on her way back for more.
"They won't accept it back. It's foodstuffs. We might as well use it."
I plonked my boxes down and followed her downstairs. "Use it? What for?"
Smegs stopped and looked at me pityingly. "Oh, come on, Shan! What do you think? Angelica will be back in a minute. You want a written invitation?" Three more boxes went away up the stairs, followed by two more.
"But we can't just eat it on its own."
"We can open a can of peaches or something. It doesn't matter. We'll be eating it off Angelica, won't we?"
On the next trip, I carried four boxes, and Smegs wobbled up the stairs with five. Angelica arrived back just in time. We panted up to my room with ten boxes disposed among the three of us, then surveyed the scene. My bedroom looked like a warehouse. It made a change from a whorehouse, I suppose.
"What's it all for?" Angelica's eyes were like big brown saucers.
We grinned at her lewdly.
"Oh, sheesh! You can not be serious! You can't..."
"Take your kit off, Miss Grimbeau!"
"Sheesh, Headmistress! I'm all funky!"
"Miss Grimbeau!"
"Yes, Headmistress." She stripped to her bra and pink cheerleader's panties. Perhaps that ought to have been 'cheerleader's pink panties'. It would have been woefully inaccurate to describe Miss Grimbeau as a pink cheerleader. "You're sure about this?" She looked from Smegs to me and back again. "I guess you are, at that."
"They've all gone." Helvetica stood and stared at the empty space just inside the main entrance. "Mandy said they were all just here, fifty boxes of whipped cream."
"She was winding you up." Geraldine glanced around uncomfortably. She felt self-conscious in her cheerleader's outfit.
"No, she helped bring them in out of the rain. Miss Gruntworthy gave her a can for helping. They all had cans and they took them back to the dorm."
"Somebody must have pinched them, then."
"Who'd nick fifty boxes of cream? They'd need a van. Or a whole load of girls to carry them away."
"Or boys." Geraldine had been quite impressed by her recent experience at Buckminster-Fuller Comprehensive. She had never seen so many boys in one place at the same time before.
"Where would we get boys at a girls' school?" Helvetica said with a scornful glance.
"I wish I knew. Maybe the teachers stole the cream."
"What for? Teachers don't eat cream."
Geraldine considered this staggering generalisation. "Why not?"
"It brings them out in spots. Teachers have to be careful of their complexions as they get near middle age. They have to guard against letting themselves go, my mum says. She has."
"Come on, Vets. Let's get out of here. Somebody might come." Geraldine hopped from one foot to the other and chewed her nails.
"I want to find that cream," Helvetica persisted stubbornly. She prowled around the lobby, searching for clues. She even took a pace or two up the stairs.
Geraldine was appalled. "You mustn't go up there! That's for teachers!"
"I've been up here before. I've sorted panties for Miss Mountains. And I went and saw Miss Gruntworthy with my tits." She looked around conspiratorially. "She rubbed them in her room!"
"Miss Gruntworthy rubbed your..." Geraldine shrieked, then dropped her voice to a piercing whisper. "Miss Gruntworthy rubbed your tits in her room? Like she did at netball? What did she rub them with?"
"Her hands," Helvetica said with relish. "Both hands! She's good. It felt even better in her room than it did at netball. I mean, it felt great when she rubbed them at netball, but up in her room it felt really wow!"
"Wow?"
"Yeah."
"What does wow feel like?"
"I'll show you when you get some tits. Hey, hang about! What's this?" Triumphantly, Helvetica turned the corner of the stairs and held up a can of whipped cream. "They dropped one! I bet the teachers have taken them all upstairs!" She loped up another step or two. "Yeah! Here's another!" Her blonde head appeared over the bannister at the top. "There's more up here. Come on up! Let's follow the trail."
But Geraldine had seen enough. She whimpered softly, shook her head at her friend's folly and fled, the double doors banging behind her.
"Where's Corinne?" Angelica asked the question.
"What?" I paused, a can of whipped cream ready and aimed at the target.
"Corinne ought to be here."
Smegs laid her can aside and looked at me. "Where is she, anyway? It's not like you not to invite her."
"Maybe she'll come along," I said evasively. "She's probably busy with something or other. Marking papers or something. It's a busy time of year in Support and Mobility."
"It is?" Smegs raised an eyebrow. "You're sure there's no other reason?"
I blushed, probably not too prettily. "Of course not."
"That's all right then." Smegs picked up her can again and applied a finger to the button. "You all ready, Angelica? It won't be too cold. It's because it's pressurised. Pee-one Vee-one over Tee-one equals Pee-two Vee-two over Tee-two."
"One over Vee plus one over You equals one over Eff," I said, not to be outdone, and picked up my own can.
Let me describe the scene, the tableau. We were on the bed, it goes without saying. Angelica was on her back, legs parted, arms flung wide. She had taken off her bra but had so far not removed her pink cheerleader's panties. Smegs, also stripped down to her underwear, was kneeling astride Angelica's head, facing South. I was kneeling between those slightly parted, adequately fleshed and utterly desirable thighs. To enable me to see what I was doing, I had kept my bra on, but nothing else. I was facing North. Got that? Right, hold those visuals.
On the audio front, music was playing fairly loudly. I couldn't say what it was, as Angelica had put it on, but I can probably say with some certainty that it wasn't God Save The Queen.
Continuing our multi-sensual experience but disregarding feel and taste, there were a number of recognisable smells at large in the room. Smegs and I had been through a long and averagely horny day and Angelica had done a certain amount of leaping around and high-kicking. None of us had taken a shower within living memory. I leave the rest to the imagination of the reader. The music wasn't the only thing that was funky.
Look, this isn't my fault. I only write it down, okay?
Smegs raised her can and a gleam came into her eye. She was debating which nipple to go for first. The left one was enormously erect, the right one slightly less so. That's Angelica, though, what you see is what you get.
I took aim on the navel. An innie, for the connoisseur of these things.
An enormously loud noise destroyed the serenity of the moment.
"What the fuck's that?" Smegs snapped. A dollop of cream escaped her nozzle and landed on Angelica's left breast, well clear of the nipple. It began to slither down into her armpit. I made a mental note to retrieve it later.
"Someone outside in the corridor."
"Corinne?"
"She would come straight in," I said — the voice of experience.
"There's nobody else." Silence had fallen. Had it been imagination? I raised my can again. It wobbled. I used both hands, feeling an urge to shout 'freeze, police!' Too much television, I suppose.
Then it happened again. It sounded like a girl carrying an armful of pressurised cans of whipped cream, dropping them on the floor. One even rolled and hit the base of the door. Moving with a swiftness that surprised even myself, I slipped to the floor, crossed to the door in three strides and flung it open.
A large blonde netball captain was on her hands and knees looking up at me. She still wore her short skirt and her navy blue T-shirt with the letters 'GS' in shocking pink on the back and the front. I had been right about the cans of whipped cream. She had what looked like a dozen cans in her arms and was reaching for another. She bleated in terror and dropped the lot.
"Helvetica, get in here at once! No! Leave the cream, just get your arse in here!" I can be masterful when I have to be. Or mistressful. Helvetica edged into the room, and her eyes opened wide. I don't know which particular part of the scene made her open her eyes widest. It might have been Smegs and Angelica on the bed in a compromising position. Or it might have been me, dressed only in a bra. The first glimpse of a bottomless Chauntaille Gruntworthy is one rarely forgotten. Especially when viewed from a kneeling position.
"Nice move, Shan!" Smegs evidently thought it hadn't been my brightest idea of the day, bringing Helvetica into the room.
"Sheesh!" That was Angelica, adding her considered opinion.
"You'd better leave, Helvetica," I said sternly.
"You can't send her away now," Smegs screamed, and Helvetica and I both flinched. "She's seen too much!"
Helvetica began to cry. Clearly, she realised we were going to have to kill her. She was another one who watched too much television.
"It's all right, Helvetica," I hugged her to my cleavage. She struggled fitfully like a trapped fawn.
"You'll have to keep her here."
"What, for ever?"
"No, just until you've made it clear what will happen to her if she spills the beans." Smegs obviously watched too much television, too.
"But she hasn't seen anything."
"Oh, no?" Smegs waved a hand around the room, ending significantly at the bed.
"Perhaps we were practising first aid," I suggested. "Miss Grimbeau was drowning and you were about to resuscitate her."
"With a can of whipped cream?"
"It might be a new method. To avoid mouth to mouth contact." I thought of mouth to mouth contact with Angelica and shuddered involuntarily with pleasure. Helvetica detached her head from my cleavage and pulled a handful of industrial paper towel out of the elasticated leg of her knickers. She wiped my legs down as if grooming a racehorse. I wondered if she had ever been a stable-hand. She had a sure touch.
"She'd better sit down over there," sighed Smegs. "Tell her to keep quiet and not interrupt. We'll decide what to do with her later."
Helvetica began sobbing again.
"Oh, do shut up, you," I said sympathetically.
She sat down on the only empty chair as I mounted Angelica again and picked up my can.
"You'll need to give it a really good shake, Miss. My Mum always..."
"You've been told to keep quiet, girl," I scolded, shaking the can vigorously. Then before anyone could stop me, I gave a ten second burst, starting at Angelica's belly button and ending up on the well-stuffed crotch of her pink cheerleader's panties.
"Sheesh!"
"WHAT DID you do with her?" Valentina stood with her fists on her hips and glowered at Geraldine.
"Nothing. She was looking for cans of whipped cream and she went up the stairs to the teacher's rooms. I think she found some."
"Well where is she then? She ought to have been back by now."
"I dunno. She didn't come out, so I went back in and looked, but she'd gone. I reckon she must have gone into Miss Gruntworthy's room."
"What would she want to do that for?"
"To get her tits felt. Miss Gruntworthy's very good at feeling tits, she said. Helvetica enjoyed it last time Miss Gruntworthy felt her tits. I think Helvetica likes it, 'cos she was feeling her tits all the way through the netball match."
Valentina felt her own not inconsiderable bosom and nodded to herself. It did indeed feel pleasant. Probably even Helvetica, with her little ones, would still be able to feel something. Even so, marching into the Headmistress's bedroom for a feel was carrying things a bit far, even for the Junior netball and hockey captain. "So you didn't bring any cream back with you?"
"I told you, it was all gone. Apart from a few odd cans on the stairs. Haven't we got any left in here?"
"No, the others all squirted it on each other."
"What for?"
"So they could lick it off, of course!"
"Oh, yuck!" Geraldine found the idea distasteful. What kind of pervert would lick cream off another girl?"
"Throw me another two cans, Helvetica, please."
Helvetica eagerly grabbed a couple more cans out of the top box and brought them over. "You missed a bit just down there, Miss," she said.
"Where?"
"Down between her legs, where they rub together in the middle."
"They do not," Miss Grimbeau insisted indignantly, trying to sit up. I pushed her back with a hand on her breast. The right one, by the feel of its nipple.
I spotted the area Helvetica had pointed out and gave it a good splurge. Meanwhile, higher up, Smegs was busy with her new can, applying another layer of cream to Angelica's bosoms.
"It was all right with the first coat," Smegs said. "You could see where you were spraying. The second coat is harder, cause she's white all over already."
"You're supposed to remember which bits you've done. You're wasting cream otherwise."
"Huh. Who's licked it all off and started again three times?"
"I got it wrong. It looks much better now. Nice and even all over. Your half is all lumpy."
"That's her boobs. They're supposed to be lumpy."
"I wish they were lumpier," said a muffled voice from somewhere between Smegs's loins.
"What?"
"I wish I had bigger boobs!"
"Miss Grimbeau, please! Pas devant les élèves, s'il vous plaît."
"Ça ne faît rien, Mademoiselle Gruntverzie, je ne parle pas Français," said Helvetica.
"Oh, good. She doesn't understand. You don't really want bigger boobs, Angelica? Yours are lovely. Especially covered in whipped cream."
"Oh, sure." She struggled upright. Smegs took the opportunity to squirt cream down Angelica's shoulders and back. She snapped her fingers at Helvetica for another new can. "I want huge ones," said Angelica dreamily. "As big as Mee-gan, or Corinne, or even yours, Headmistress."
Helvetica sniggered behind her hand. "You'll have to get the Woods girls to give Miss Grimbo some Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus, Miss!"
Angelica was nodding vigorously, little snowflakes of whipped cream detaching themselves to splash gently on to the bed covers. Well, who'd have thought it? Our new teacher wanted bigger boobies!
"Can we start licking it off now, Smegs? Before it dries and goes icky?"
"You've licked half a can off her already."
"That's what it's for. Come on! Let's lick it off. We've got dozens more boxes for tomorrow and the next night and the night after that. Please, Smegsy!"
"I was just starting to enjoy it up this end. Oh, all right. I suppose we could."
"Don't forget to feed some to me," the victim reminded us.
"Miss!"
I paused, my tongue millimetres from Angelica's navel, which was already quivering in anticipation. "Yes, Helvetica?"
"Can I lick some off as well?"
"May I..."
"May I lick some off as well, Miss? Please?"
"This bottom half is all mine!" I spread my arms protectively across Angelica's tummy and legs. "And the top half is Miss Mountains's."
"I could have her toes, Miss. Just her toes?"
Angelica seemed to like the idea. She wriggled and moaned softly.
"Just her toes, Miss. Then I'll promise not to tell anybody."
"You what?"
"You heard her, Shan. She'll tell the whole school if you don't. You'd better let her have the toes."
"All right then. Just one foot, though."
"That's all right, Miss. I'll suck one foot, and I'll only tell the First Form girls."
"You'd better let her lick both feet, Shan."
"Little bitch," I muttered. "Go on. Both feet. Just the toes."
"Thanks, Miss. I'll only tell my two bestest friends in that case."
"What do you want?"
"Up to the knees, Miss."
"You rotten little cow! They're mine!"
"No, Miss. They're Miss Grimbo's." She bent her head and began licking. "Wow, Miss! It's ever so tasty." She sat up, cream sticking to her cheeks and hair. "I bet it's even tastier between her toes!"
Smegs moaned and scooped a handful of cream from Angelica's cleavage. She was saving the armpits for later. Time was a-wasting. I dived in with a will. Helvetica was right. Tasty was the word for it.
We lay back, bloated with cream. Smegs held her hands clasped across her stomach like a pregnant woman. I was on the verge of rolling on to my back like a sheep. If I did, I wouldn't be able to get up. We both watched Angelica steadily lapping away at Helvetica, who seemed to have become plastered in cream herself at some stage.
I wanted to have another go at Angelica's groin area, but I was just too stuffed with cream.
"I hate to be a spoilsport, you two, but it's Helvetica's bedtime."
"Oh, Headmistress!"
"No, you have to let her go, Miss Grimbeau. You've been licking her for half an hour."
"No fair! Twenty minutes!"
"Twenty-five."
"Twenty-two."
"A long time. Come on. Let Helvetica get up. Helvetica, you can take a few cans over to the dorm with you, but you're not to play with them tonight, understand? It's after lights-out. You get straight into bed."
"Yes, Miss," sighed Helvetica gloomily. She got up and pulled on her netball shirt. "Can I take the rest of this box? It's only got a couple of cans left in it?"
"Go on, then. For being a good girl tonight. Did you enjoy it?"
"Oh, yes, Miss! I want to be a teacher one day, Miss!"
"Come here, love!" She came over, clutching her box of cream, and I rubbed her breasts. They felt very much as I had remembered them earlier.
"'Night, Miss. 'Night, Miss Mountains, Miss Grimbo."
"I've got a whole box! Gather round, girls!" Helvetica hastily distributed cans and shoved the box in her wardrobe. She approached Valentina with an expression of lust in her green eyes.
"Ow! That's my arm."
"Come on, then. Miss Gruntworthy said I've got to get straight into bed. She never said whose!"
"Headmistress."
"Yes, Angelica?"
"You've got fantastic boobs."
I blushed prettily.
"So have you, Mee-gan."
"Mine are only as big as a First Former's," Smegs insisted.
"They're still terrific tits, Mee-gan. They're so firm and round and bouncy."
Smegs blushed prettily at last.
"And yours are the floppiest I've ever seen, Headmistress. I've never seen anyone with boobs down to her knees before. Can I... may I fondle them?"
"Fondle?" It was the first time I had heard the word used in a real sentence.
"Fondle. I want to hold your lovely breasts in both arms and suck your monster nipples."
"Oooh, Angelica!"
"And Mee-gan. I want to put my head between your big bouncy breasts." She was as good as her word. Her face plunged into Smegs's tight gulf and the two of them fell back on to the mattress, legs kicking.
I spotted a fresh reserve of whipped cream I had somehow missed. Gently prising Angelica's thighs apart, I dived into the space between. Why, I asked myself for the nineteenth time this evening, had I not removed Angelica's most intimate undergarment before starting all this whipped cream business.
At least, it was better than having to pick stray hairs off my tongue for the rest of the night. And oddly enough, it seemed to be just as effective.
"Oooh, Headmistress!" Angelica's voice was muffled but her meaning was perfectly clear. And her next words made me thrill with pride. "Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-WOOOOOOOOOW!
"Why didn't you invite me? I wasn't doing anything last night."
I finished my spotted dick and custard and belched. "You should have said. We were only in my bedroom. I'm surprised you didn't hear us. Angelica is very noisy when she gets going." I looked at Corinne more closely.
"What's the matter?"
"Have you been growing again?"
She blushed prettily and hunched her shoulders, bringing her arms round in front of her chest. "Only a little bit. I didn't think anyone would notice."
"You did it on purpose?"
"I must have thought about it, yes."
"And it happened?"
"Yes. It's been happening gradually ever since Angelica arrived."
"Show me them. I want to see."
"Don't be silly! Not in the restaurant. Anyway, you know what they look like. They're nowhere near as big as they used to be."
"Has anyone else noticed them yet?"
"No, how could they? They think they've always been this size, whatever size they are. Except..."
"Except?"
"Perhaps Valentina. Nurse's little brat. I had the Firsts for S & M this morning, and I saw her looking at my boobs. And she gave me a little smile and winked."
"You think she knows? She can See?"
"Looks like it. After all, Nurse didn't have any kids until the computer system gave her a bunch of the spare daughters. And a house next to the sick bay. Perhaps Valentina's pattern got screwed up somehow, and she recognises changes when they happen. There's nothing we can do about it now."
"So I'm not the only one. Show me your tits, Cee!"
I had raised my voice in excitement, and several girls at nearby tables giggled.
Corinne glowered round at them. "No. If you want to see a pair of tits, go and look at Angelica's."
"It's not like that between us."
"But she makes a lot of noise when she gets going. What made her get going last night?"
I hung my head. "Whipped cream."
"What?"
"We were eating whipped cream off Angelica. That stuff that comes in spray cans."
"What does it matter what containers it comes in?"
"It does. It's much quicker, you just spray it on. If we had to use real whipped cream, it would have taken all night..."
"So which erogenous zone were you licking it off last night, when she suddenly shouted 'woo-woo-woo-woo-woo- woo-woo-WOOOOOOOOOW!' at the top of her voice?"
"Her thing."
"Her thing?"
"Her front bottom. Pussy. Snatch. It was all right, she still had her panties on."
"You are a disgrace, Chauntaille! You are a headmistress. Angelica is a young teacher, far from home, and you took advantage of her polite and obliging nature to lick canned whipped cream off her thing."
"You make it sound so cheap, Cee. There's no need to say canned as if it was a miserable substitute for the Real Thing. It tastes just as nice as fresh cream."
"When you lick it off a young woman's front bottom, it does."
"It was her back bottom as well. It had sort of trickled down..."
"Shan! That is enough!"
A thought had occurred to me. "How did you know she suddenly shouted 'woo-woo-woo-woo-woo- woo-woo-WOOOOOOOOOW!' at the top of her voice?"
"Because I heard her."
"Why didn't you join us? There was plenty of cream."
"I wasn't invited." She suddenly pushed back her chair and stalked out of the restaurant. Girls watched her as she left. Some of them nudged each other. Valentina, I noticed, became highly animated, demonstrating something with her hands in front of her chest. Her friends were staring at her without comprehension.
"They're bigger than yesterday. You can see the difference," Valentina said.
"How can they be bigger than yesterday?" said Helvetica scornfully.
"Why shouldn't they be? Yours are."
The rest of the First Form at the lunch table stared at Helvetica with interest. She blushed prettily and waved her arms. "Stop staring at my chest!"
"Yours are bigger, Vets. They're even bigger than when we were playing netball."
"That's different. I'm a growing girl." She folded her arms.
"Miss Meadowlark's not a growing girl," said Sally Chung in her official role as Form Head and spokesperson of the First Form. "She's ancient. So hers can't be getting bigger."
"They are." Valentina was quietly certain. "They're as big as mine now. I remember thinking last week, I was bigger than the Support and Mobility Mistress. But I bet she couldn't get into my bra any more. Not now. She's out to here somewhere. I bet if I swapped my bra for hers she would overflow the cups."
The other girls looked doubtful, but Valentina sounded so sure. Her absurd bra-swapping idea was probably unworkable, but a girl surely ought to know how her own bra size compared with another woman's. Especially a girl as big as Valentina.
"Oo's bed did you sleep in last night, any road?" Sally looked straight at Helvetica.
Some of the girls gasped and Helvetica looked uncomfortable.
"Mine," said Valentina. "Want to make something of it?"
"I didn't ask you. I was askin' Helvetica."
"My bed was wet," mumbled Helvetica. "A can of cream exploded in it. Valentina kindly offered to let me squeeze in with her."
"Squeeze!" The rest of the girls giggled and went bright red. This was their first experience of bed-sharing. They knew the older girls did it all the time, although they had no idea what for.
"Ah'm tellin' Miss," said Sally. "You'll both get put on jankers. Sortin' panties. Ah'm not writin' out a thousand lines in me best handwritin' because you lot can't behave proper."
It sounded a fair deal to the First Formers. If a few days of pantie-sorting was the only punishment, some of them were tempted to share a bed as well. It would be well worth the discomfort of spending the night with another girl with sharp toenails, bony elbows and poo-ey farts.
Surreptitiously, they began looking around the table for suitable partners.
"Miss?"
"Yes, what is it, Sally?"
Sally toyed with the end of her white sash of office. "Can I 'ave a word, Miss? It's important."
We were crossing the quad. I motioned towards the low wall around the fountain. "Sit down and tell me all about it."
We perched on the wall, half facing inwards. Fat goldfish flicked their tails and darted through the sparkling water. "You know girls, Miss?"
"Yes, Sally. I know girls."
"Well, you know how the older girls sometimes sleep together, Miss?"
"Yes."
"Do they enjoy it, Miss?"
"I suppose so, or they wouldn't do it, would they?"
"But they cuddle, Miss! And kiss each other, and touch their bottoms and stuff?"
"Well, if you're sleeping with someone, it's rude not to."
"But it's horrible, Miss. They're girls!"
"Well, yes. St Cat's is a girls' school. We're all girls here. There aren't really enough boys for everyone to have one."
Sally pulled a face and looked strangely scrutable. "Oh, no, Miss! Boys'd be even worse!"
"What's all this leading up to, Sally?"
"Will I get into trouble if any of my girls sleep together, Miss?"
"First Form girls, sleeping together?" It sounded bizarre. "Which ones?"
"Valentina, Miss. And Helvetica."
That sounded more believable. Sally continued.
"They was keeping me awake, Miss. Gigglin' and squirtin' cream on each other all night."
This was serious. I thought Helvetica only had a couple of cans of cream. If the two of them had been squirting cream on each other all night long, she must have had a least half a dozen. "You'd better send them up to see me in my office. Straight after school. No, on second thoughts, you'd better make it my bedroom."
"Yes, Miss." Sally looked relieved.
I got up to indicate that the interview was at an end. "Thank you for telling me this, Sally. And Sally?"
She stopped and turned round. "Yes, Miss?"
"You had better write out a hundred times, in your best handwriting, 'Form Head Or No Form Head, I Must Not Tell Tales On My Classmates.'"
Smegs emerged from her Lower Fifths Sex Practical class and leaned against the wall. The cool tiles soothed her overheated loins. She watched her nipples as they throbbed visibly. "God, I'm getting worse!" she gasped. "Forty minutes of practical and I'm gagging for it!" She looked up the corridor and felt a tremor run through her body. Miss Grimbeau was approaching, hips swaying exaggeratedly in a skirt that revealed several yards of powerful, meaty, dark brown thighs.
"Mee-gan!"
"Hello, Angelica!" Smegs wished she had a roll of industrial paper towel to hand. And then all thoughts of industrial paper towel were swept from her mind. Angelica had reached across and was unbuttoning her blouse. Her long dark fingers toyed with the buttons, cool against Smegs's burning cleavage. The fingernails, she observed, were painted bright green.
"My nails match my panties, Mee-gan," she murmured softly, and released two more of Smegs's buttons. A group of Fourth Formers passed by, giggling.
"What are you doing, Angelica?" Smegs managed to force the question out, although her tongue felt numb.
"Getting your tits out, Mee-gan. I want to play with them!"
"What? Out here?"
"Why not?" The last two buttons were undone, and Angelica pulled the two halves of the blouse apart. Smegs thought her breasts had never felt so full and spherical. They looked huge, and the nipples were embarrassing. Angelica's face plunged into the warm, musky cleavage.
"Angelica!"
"Mee-gan!"
"Quick, come up to my room. We've got ten minutes before the next class."
They ran, along the corridor to the back stairs, up the staircase three steps at a time, and in at the door of Smegs's room, scattering a cluster of Juniors who were playing games with a sack of used panties.
"Out of it, you lot!" And Smegs flung herself backwards on to the bed, with Angelica on top of her. The Juniors fled with little squeals of alarm, and the door slammed behind them.
It wasn't entirely satisfactory, as Angelica seemed to be interested only in her breasts. But at least, Smegs was able to spare a hand or two for relief duties down below.
Corinne tucked her clipboard under her arm and stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine. Her breasts felt satisfyingly full and bounced heavily inside her shirt. There might be time to replace the extra counterweights in her ScatBra tonight.
A group of giggling First Formers passed her. They seemed to be looking closely at her chest. Little ratbags. Obsessed with bosoms, all of them. She crossed the quad, and paused by the fountain. The fish were chasing each other round and round. Corinne perched her bottom on the wall and leaned across to dangle a hand in the water. It was icy cold.
"Cee! Corinne!" She looked up, and felt a thrill run though her loins. There was a wonderful animal quality about Angelica: the way she walked, the way her hips swayed, the endlessly long legs, the smell of her. Angelica had sat down next to her on the wall. "Hi," she said softly.
"Hello, Angelica! Did you have a good day?"
"Oooh, yeah! Great. Especially this afternoon." A long brown finger traced little circles on Corinne's thigh, and her spleen did a little jig. "Do you like Mee-gan's breasts?"
"Do I what?"
"Mee-gan's breasts. Do you like them?"
"That's what I thought you said. What are you doing?" Corinne's voice was faint. It was all too obvious what Angelica was doing. A gentle tug at the bow of Corinne's black necktie, and it slipped off. Strong, capable brown fingers with lime green fingernails were working efficiently at the buttons of the crisp white shirt. Within seconds, it was open and yielding up its secrets.
"Wow, Cee! You're so big and soft. Not as big and round as Mee-gan, but so full and heavy. Take it off, Cee!"
"No, I can't, not out here! The girls will see."
"Yes, take it off! Off!"
"No! Angelica! Stop it."
There was a brief struggle. It could end only one way.
The goldfish scattered indignantly as two fully mature human females splashed resoundingly into the fountain, arms around each other. They floundered and flopped around for several seconds, before standing up, thigh deep in the icy waters, spitting out pondweed. Without a word, they clambered over the parapet and stood dripping in the quad, looking at each other.
"Take it off," said Angelica, continuing the conversation where she had left off.
"No!"
"Yes! I want to fondle your breasts."
"Fondle?"
"Yeah. Grope them. Suck those lovely fat pink nipples. Feel the weight of those melons in my hands. Tongue your soft moons."
"They're not soft," said Corinne, her resolve weakening.
"Mine are. My moons are the softest part of my boobs. Your nipples are sticking out like thumbs."
"Like chapel hatpegs!"
"Is that what you say?"
"Sometimes. One of yours is erect, the other one isn't." Corinne touched the smaller one and watched as it stiffened beneath her finger. "You'd better come up to my room, then. We can get dry up there."
"Sit down, girls, I won't keep you long. Crumpet?"
"What, Miss?" Valentina had heard of the word before.
I stuck a couple of crumpets on the toasting fork and thrust them into the fireplace. It was important for girls to learn about such pillars of the British education system as tea and toasted crumpets in the teacher's room. Valentina and Helvetica watched intently as the crumpets fell off the fork and blazed brightly in the fire. I hung the toasting fork on its hook and sat back in my armchair.
"What did you do that for, Miss?" asked Valentina as the last of the flames died down.
"It's traditional," I explained.
"Why not just throw them straight on the fire, instead of pratting about with that fork thing?" Helvetica's brow furrowed. She liked to know about these things.
"There's a right way of doing everything," I said. "You will learn. Now. I didn't invite you to my room to talk about toasting crumpets. Are you two sleeping together?"
"Not any more, Miss," said Helvetica, wrinkling her nose. "She farts."
"So do you," Valentina retorted.
I sighed. "Everybody farts in bed. It's what true love is all about. Sharing."
"It doesn't matter, anyway," Helvetica said firmly. "I don't fancy her any more."
"Nor do I," Valentina said. "She's okay, but she's not my type. I prefer men."
She would learn as well. The two of them were sitting side by side on the couch, but significantly their thighs were not touching and their hands were not groping at each other's inner thighs. I would have described their relationship as cool. "One other question, about Puff."
"Puff, Miss?" Both girls looked downcast.
Valentina spoke for the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group. "It doesn't work."
"You've tried it out? It doesn't do anything at all?"
"We tried it on a cat. No tits at all. No puffies, nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Not even Uncontrollable Horniness, Miss. It just rolled over and went to sleep."
"You haven't tried it on anyone else?" I looked closely at Helvetica's chest. It seemed to have burgeoned noticeably in the day since the netball match.
Helvetica noticed my attention. "No, Miss. This is all natural. I'm a growing girl, Miss!"