IN THE SUDDEN LULL, Cassiopæia loped gracefully across, her binoculars bouncing more or less in time with her breasts. "No sign of Miss Mountains, yet, Miss?" She nodded towards the Wendy House, where Angelica was starting again at the beginning of the school song. "The singing's working well, nearly five minutes, so far. The lads have been arguing with the foreman. Something about not being paid to knock down Wendy Houses and slaughter innocent women and children."
"Innocent?" Helvetica? Valentina? Angelica? Well, maybe. "You mean, you think we might have won? Stopped them?"
"Not for long. There's still a fat bonus for them if they finish this job ahead of schedule. All he's got to do is find a half-blind tone-deaf bulldozer driver and they'll be on their way again. And with only another ten yards to go, we may have blown it. Our last throw of the dice will be hirsutism. I've been keeping pubic hair up my sleeve. It's always a dodgy subject, especially with Irishmen. It could stop them in their tracks, or..."
"I see." I didn't.
"If it comes to it," she tossed her rich black mane back from her face. "I'll join the hairy girls. I've got a fair old rug down there myself, so it's a pity to let it go to waste. I've even got some hair ribbons so the girls can make themselves look their best."
Suddenly, I didn't feel too good. "Maybe it won't come to that," I said with little hope. A sudden roar signalled the restarting of the front bulldozer. Cassiopæia punched me lightly on the shoulder.
"Time to go and join my troops. There's nothing more for me to do here." She was already raising her skirt and pulling down her panties, hopping on one leg. I saw what she meant about the hair ribbons. There were two startlingly yellow bows tied round clumps of her pubic undergrowth, one each side of the centre. I averted my gaze. Not much embarrasses me, but...
"Shannie! Quick!"
It was Corinne, yelling from the Wendy House. My stomach turned over. The bulldozer, evidently in the hands of a tone-deaf child-slaughterer with a grudge against huge breasts, was nosing its way across the neat little flowerbed at the back door of the Wendy House. A sunflower toppled as I watched. The girls of the choir bleated and stepped back, pressing themselves not very flat against the wall. Angelica, as near as I could tell, had gone quite pale. She tried to scoot herself back into the doorway, but couldn't find her umbrella.
"Run for it, girls!" Corinne was waving at them frantically. She picked up a flowerpot, containing an azalea, I think, and hurled it at the cab of the bulldozer. It smashed against the windshield. The driver laughed, slowing for barely a second.
Only a second, but it gave the choir a glimmer of hope. Helvetica rounded them up and began herding them before her to safety.
"Wait!" Valentina was scrabbling on the ground, trying to find something. "There, got it," she cried triumphantly, coming up with Angelica's umbrella and thrusting it in the teacher's hand. She gave a hefty shove to the Angelic-O-Glyde and watched as Miss Grimbeau slithered backwards into the shadows of the kitchen.
"Come on, Tina!" Helvetica glanced fearfully over her shoulder, measuring the distance between the threatening blade and her bestest friend.
"I'm coming," Valentina squealed. But she wasn't. She wasn't going anywhere. The kitchen door, without the Angelic-O-Glyde to hold it open, had blown shut, trapping Valentina by the ankle. Still clutching little Arthur, she couldn't get her hand down far enough to push the door open and free herself. "Vets!" It was a howl of anguish. "Help me!"
Helvetica tried to get back to her but she was as helpless as the rest of us. Already, the bulldozer, coming in at an angle, had cut off our line of approach. Valentina's prone body was now invisible behind the tracks and engine of the snorting beast.
Time seemed to stand still still. Valentina's screams still echoed around the trees. "Vets! Arthur!"
Dimly, through the drifting exhaust smoke, I could see Cassiopæia leading her squad of pubically hirsute girls round by the front of the Wendy House to come in from the other side. But it was going to be too late. Too late for poor Valentina.
Yet despite the slowing down of time, one thing still happened at impossible speed. There was the sudden banshee sound of a blaring horn and a brilliant sunburst yellow flash through the trees, barely visible to the watchers on this side of the Wendy House. It slewed to a halt and a tall, athletic figure detached itself from it...
"Smegs!"
She wasted no time, sizing up the situation even as she ran, sprinted, magnificently, down the muddy slope to the Wendy House ... and then was lost to our view.
Time slowed down again. The bulldozer hesitated, then with a mighty avenging roar, prepared to flatten everything in its path once and for all.
Corinne clung to me. Neither of us dared to look. When we let go of each other, the Wendy House, Valentina, Angelica, would be no more.
Helvetica screamed, a different note, lower than Valentina's, and closer. "Tina!"
Something in her sobbing tone made us look up.
There, stumbling round the back of the bulldozer, hobbling slightly, plastered in mud, wearing only a ScattyMatty nursing bra and a pair of slightly ripped panties, Valentina appeared with her Arthur, gurgling happily, safely wrapped in her arms. She handed him over to one of the girls from the choir, then collapsed into the arms of her friend and lover.
"She made it, Cee! Smegs saved her..."
"Where is she? Smegs? Megan?" Corinne was already off, trying to see beyond the snorting machine. "Shan, come on, round the other side of the house."
We all went. Not across the churned mud in the bulldozer's wake, but round to the right: round the Wendy House, past the front door, round by the neat stack of logs sawn by Jeremy, past Smegs's new car, round the corner to face the full blast of noise from the bulldozer's engine. It could have taken us only ten seconds, but time was standing still, and it took for ever.
Smegs lay still and lifeless. The bulldozer was stationary; the driver half standing in his seat, weighing up his approach, trying to pick out the best spot to push against the Wendy House wall so as to bring the whole thing down like a house of cards. Satisfied, he slumped back into his seat and reached for the steering levers. The engine roared, the tracks slipped for a moment in the mud, then began to grind forward over Smegs's helpless body. A useless hail of logs clattered on the windshield of the bulldozer, hurled by the choir. Too late.
Sobbing, Corinne started forward as ...
It had stopped again. Not just stopped. It had stopped altogether. Everything, engine and all. The great lump of machinery stood there quivering, and there was an echoing creak as the driver slowly opened the door of his cab. "Fockin' hell!" he muttered. "Holy Mother of Jayzus!" He climbed out and stood silhoutted against the skyline, then slowly walked forward along the engine cover of his machine.
We all shuffled round to get a better view, dreading what we might find.
"Get back!" The words echoed and hung in the air.
"Angelica?"
The back door of the Wendy House was wide open, and standing there just inside the doorway, standing, with a wonderful quiet dignity, was Angelica Grimbeau. Her arm was flung out accusingly at the driver. "Get back in that machine and get it outta here."
The driver was transfixed by this vision. He pointed to himself and his mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"Move it!"
The man shook his head. "I ... I can't. They never taught me to ... to droive it backwards."
Angelica seemed to swell, if such a thing were possible. She took a deep breath, pulled back her shoulders, and took a step forwards. Then another, and as she reached the doorway, clutching at it gratefully for support, the sun sent a shaft of gold down to highlight her incredible body in its glorious magnificence.
"Get in," she said more quietly, but with a deep menace. "Get in and get that bulldozer off my friend."
The man hid his face in his hands and tears began trickling down his cheeks, flying off in sparkling droplets as he shook his head helplessly. "I don't know how," he sobbed. "Oi've been tryin' to foind revorse gear for the last ten minutes!"
"Get down offa there, Kelly!" The foreman, or referee, had crept up without our realising. He gave a short sharp blast on his whistle. "Down! Where's Donaghy? Get your ass up on that fockin' machine and move it back. Gently, now! We'll soon get your friend out, Miss, Missus...?" He looked at Angelica one more time, unable to come to terms with the evidence of his own eyes.
The man Donaghy clambered up into the cab as Kelly slowly scrambled down across the blade. He didn't take his eyes off Angelica the whole time, as if she might disappear in a puff of smoke. His rubber boots slipped on the mud and he fell, straddling the blade with his legs. It looked quite painful.
"It's fucked, Paddy!" Donaghy yelled from the cab. "It won't start. The daft bastard's focked it."
"Get a chain on it and pull it back. Fockin' quick. Get one of the other machines over here." The referee gave another blast on his whistle, then crouched and began creeping forward between the blade and the wall. He reached down and touched Smegs's body, then looked up at Angelica. He actually looked into her face. I wondered if he could see it from down there. "She's still breathin'," he said, and blew his whistle again.
Thank God, Cee! She's alive."
"Alive, yes, but..."
"Don't, Cee. Let's get her out from under there first. Here's Jeremy!"
The little school tractor rocketed between the trees and skidded in a neat semicircle to stop inches from the back of the bulldozer. Jeremy was already leaping down and connecting a stout chain to the back of the thing.
"Stand clear," he called, and increased the revs of the tractor's engine. The chain came tight, the revs mounted further, the bulldozer gave a little lurch ... and sat there stubbornly as the tractor's wheels spun in the yellow slurry. Jeremy tried again, then backed up a little and took a run at it. The bulldozer seemed to consider its position, but stayed where it was. The little tractor bucked up and down, its wheels bouncing and smoking as Jeremy entreated it to 'fucking move, you cow'.
"Try again, Jeremy!" it was a curiously hollow voice, enormously loud. "Come on, girls!" it said, and with a chorus of girlish squeals, two dozen figures slithered and wallowed into action, crowding round the stalled machinery. "Mind the wheels, girls!" echoed the Voice. "Some of you push the bulldozer. You big girls climb on the tractor and bounce up and down. The rest of you just push anywhere you can get a grip on."
"Cee? Are my eyes deceiving me, or are those girls not wearing skirts?"
"This is no time to be worrying about school uniform regulations, Shannie. They're the hirsute girls. Cassiopæia's Hairy Monsters."
They wore only their school shirts, hiked up and knotted at their waists. Below that, they wore nothing of any significance, unless you can include sheer black stockings and the necessary suspension apparatus. And ribbons, of course. They all wore brightly coloured ribbons tied around the locks of their luxuriant pubic hair. Mercifully, everything was quickly becoming concealed beneath the glutinous yellow mud.
"Push ... and push, and push, and PUSH!" boomed Cassiopæia's amplified voice. "That's it. It's going! Keep going, come on, it's coming, yes, yes, yes! Yesssss!"
Half a dozen of the road builders lent a hand, their lounge suits already mud-plastered beyond dry-cleaning, and the trawlermen weighed in as well. Surprisingly, not wishing to get their big black waterproofs dirty, they had stripped down to their striped woollen swimming costumes.
It was enough. The bulldozer gave an orgasmic sigh and surrendered to its fate, grinding backwards through the mud as the Hairy Monsters cheered and bounced and shoved and ... probably ... enjoyed orgasms in the ochre slime. The whole thing slid back ten feet then stopped — and hirsute girls, road builders and trawlermen all slumped to the ground, exhausted.
Corinne was already on her knees. "She's okay. Shan! She's alive!"
We sat Smegs up, gently. No broken bones or anything.
"Can she stand up?" It was Angelica, still in the doorway.
Smegs opened her eyes. Wider. She looked around. "Angel? You?"
"Mee-gan! Me! I'm up here, behind my breasts."
So we raised her up and stood her on her feet, shakily at first, then with returning strength as she took the few steps to Angelica, and stood before her in awe.
"You can come closer than that," Angelica grinned, parting her breasts with both arms and widening the gap. "Come right in, make yourself comfortable."
Smegs didn't need a written invitation. She slipped first one leg then the other between the gigantic chocolate mounds of flesh which rested on the ground in front of Angelica, and moulded herself against her lover's powerful body.
"Angel!"
"Don't talk, just hold me..."
Valentina and Helvetica didn't talk, they held each other. Leaning against the sunlit wall of the Wendy House, they hugged each to the other's bosom, and great was the coming together of flesh. As What's-her-Name patiently held Arthur to her chest — urging the infant to suckle, just for practice — the new First Form Head and her self-appointed deputy kissed deeply and wetly, with tongues probing into wide-open Junior mouths.
It was all so explicit, we had to look away. Corinne and I, Miss Lundberg and Jeremy and Cassiopæia, we all wandered tactfully away into the muddy woods. At a distance came the road-builders, carefully avoiding looking at the Wendy House, chatting amiably with the three trawlermen, now safely back in their stormproof weather gear.
The rest of the girls didn't come with us, of course. They could ignore the everyday sight of the Junior girls getting off, but the sight of two of their teachers indulging in open-mouthed snogging right there in public view was too precious to miss. Still in their fetish groups, they gathered round to watch, some of the more well-developed ones picking up useful pointers as to what to do with the breasts while indulging in freestyle tonsil-hockey.
Rest them on the floor on either side of your lover's feet, and invite her — or him, if you must — to step into your very personal space. Of course, it's not every girl who can stand upright with her breasts resting on the floor.
"I have to sit down, Mee-gan, honey. This is the first time I've stood up for nearly a week." Angelica's shoulders slumped, she was holding herself up with her arms round Smegs's neck. Let me sit on my 'Glyde. You can lie on the floor beside me."
Smegs whimpered with excitement. She guided Angelica back into the kitchen and slammed the door with her foot. And a great cheer went up from two hundred and thirty deep throats.
"Please, Miss?"
"What is it, Miranda?"
"I've found five girls, Miss. To pull Miss Grimbo's Sweet Chariot? You know how you said to find five girls with busts as big as mine, Miss? I tried, but they're all smaller. And none of them have got moons anything like as big as mine. They're as big as chariot wheels, Miss." She yawned and stretched elaborately, her arms above her head. Two enormous bunches of dark hair encircled her armpits. She looked like a map of the heavens. "Oops, sorry, Miss!" She glanced down at her shrubbery as if seeing it for the first time, then put her arms down again as slowly as she dared.
"Where is your shirt, Miranda?" I asked wearily. "You can't go wandering around in just a bra and a skirt, not even a nice bra like that one."
"I had to take it off, Miss. How else could I compare the size of mine with all the other chariot pullers? Anyway, what do you want us to do? Miss Grimbo's gone to bed fucking with Miss Mountains. Do we have to wait around until she wants to go for a ride? In her Sweet Chariot, I mean. She blushed at the appalling double entendre."
Corinne looked Miranda up and down with distaste. "You can dismiss them, Miranda. Thank them very much, but they won't be needed this morning." She turned to me. "And we've got to start getting the girls dressed and back over to the school. We can't have them all running around in the woods half naked, catching their death of cold."
"They've got the afternoon off," I reminded her. "To celebrate the Sash Handover. It seems so long ago. What's the time?"
"About twelve." The quadrangle clock corroborated it, unnecessarily loudly.
"Is that all? You mean we've only been out here about three quarters of an hour?"
"It was long enough. We've stopped the road-builders. For now, at least. Come on. Let's start getting these girls rounded up."
Little crocodiles of girls were wandering off toward the school, chattering excitedly. The trawlermen had reassembled their van and were practising loading and unloading the piano, trotting up and down the sloping ramp with their burden. Their shouts echoed under the trees. "Hup, two, three, four, hup, two, three, four..."
The road-builders were gathered round their useless bulldozer. One of them was hitting something inside the engine compartment with a serious looking iron bar. Jeremy was offering good-natured advice.
We found the stars of the junior choir beside Smegs's new car. "It's all bent, Miss," Helvetica sniffed sorrowfully. "Look at it."
We looked at it. The front bumper of the car was sadly crumpled and there was a big scrape down one side of the brilliant yellow paint where Smegs had bounced off a tree in her headlong rush to get back to the school. To save the Wendy House. To save little Arthur.
"How's Arthur, Valentina?"
"He's great, Miss. Aren't you, Arthur? You've had a fun morning, haven't you, then? Yes! Oops, he wants his dinner again." She was wearing a shirt again now, and she unbuttoned it. Out came an enormous dribbling teat the size of a pork sausage and Arthur tucked in as if he hadn't had a drop to drink in months.
"Could Mr Jeremy mend it, Miss?" Helvetica was still worrying about Smegs's car. She ran a hand along the scratched door.
"Who's taking my name in vain? Hi, Shan. Hi, girls!"
"Hello, Mr Jeremy." Helvetica and Valentina blushed prettily. Arthur let go of his dinner for a moment to give a beaming smile. "Miss Mountains crashed her car into a tree," said Helvetica. "We were wondering if you could make it all better. You're so clever." She shuddered and bit her lip, and her nipples began hardening into exaggerated tumescence. It was a big day for her: first a Sash Handover ceremony, then she falls madly in love.
Jeremy rubbed the scratch with his fingers. "It's not as bad as it looks, Vets, have a feel." Helvetica swallowed and went scarlet as Jeremy guided her hand gently across the scarred paint. "There, it's only a little scratch, isn't it."
"Oooh! Ooooh, woo-woo-woo..."
Valentina was stifling her giggles as her bestest friend clutched at her flooding pudenda. "What's up, Vets?"
Corinne put on her most serious face. "Stop teasing her, Valentina!"
"Sorry, Miss!"
We all had to turn away to hide our laughs.
"I could probably get it fixed up in a couple of hours," said Jeremy. "Where is she?"
"I'd think you've got at least that long, Jeremy. Megan's going to be occupied for most of the afternoon. She and Angelica have quite a lot to discuss."
"I'll take it now, then. The keys are still in the ignition." He grinned at Helvetica, who was still enjoying her spontaneous and unrehearsed orgasm. "Will it be okay if I take this young lady along to Bert's Body Shop for the ride, Shan?"
"Jeremy!"
"They sent me a very nice calendar last Christmas. They might let me have another this year if I take along a rilly-rilly pretty girl to show them."
Helvetica was visibly melting.
"Jeremy! You mustn't. Helvetica's no age at all!"
"They'll only be looking at her, Shan. There's no law against looking. Besides, look at her! You'd never know she's only..."
"Go on, then. Get her back here by tea-time."
"She'll be in very good hands."
Helvetica moaned softly.
"It will be all right, Shan," laughed Corinne, "Smegs ordered leather seats specially so they wouldn't show the stains."
We watched as Jeremy tucked Helvetica safely into the passenger seat, then he winked at Valentina as he climbed in the other side. There followed a few moments of fumbling with Helvetica's seat belt before Jeremy waved casually and backed the car between the trees on to the driveway.
"Wow, Miss! Old Vets has rilly-rilly got it bad!" Valentina wiped Arthur's mouth on her hankie and bounced him gently up and down until he vomited spectacularly down her cleavage. "He always does that," she said with a resigned air, "I suppose I'd better go and change."
THE QUADRANGLE clock struck three. Cautiously, in case it hadn't finished, we took our fingers out of our ears.
"I swear that clock gets louder every day," groaned Miss Lundberg. She reached out for the wine bottle, but missed and rolled on to her back. Cassiopæia grabbed it and upended it into her glass, then crawled off on a foray for more.
"Shit," she complained. "This one's empty as well." Raising the bottle to her lips, she sucked noisily at it for a while without much hope before apparently forgetting what she was doing. "Wheeee," she said softly, and fell asleep.
"What's the matter with them all, Cee?"
"They're drunk, Shannie," she hiccuped. "So are you, you're all fuzzy round the edges. The edges of your tiddies. All soft and blurbled. Send Labia Looby Lobelia out for some more wine, Headmattress. And tha'sh an order. An ordure," she corrected herself carefully.
"Labia's got the afternoon off." The door to the outer office was wide open, and Miss Labia's keyboard was neatly wrapped up in its weekend waterproof cover.
"We'll send Kelly." The foreman, referee — whatever — raised his head from Molly Malone and looked blearily round the room. He gave a sharp blast on his whistle. "Kelly! Where are ye?"
Molly dragged him down again. "Paddy Riley, will ye not be payin' attention to the job in hand?" Our Miss Malone was proving to be full of surprises. I blamed Geraldine. The Junior had not wasted the nights and days the two of them had spent chained to the polystyrene concrete block. Miss Malone was now insatiable.
"Give it a rest, Molly!" Paddy Riley blew his whistle again, producing a curiously muffled sound from the depths of the PE teacher's groin area. It evidently worked, as the man Kelly appeared, lugging a cardboard case of bottles which he began stacking neatly in the wine rack in the corner of the office. "Never mind that, Kelly, just pull the corks out and give the ladies a drink."
The ladies woke up, belched and held out their glasses. Kelly obliged. I might have almost fancied him if I'd been sober. Instead, I clinked glasses with Corinne and Cassiopæia and Edna Lundberg. Then we all forgot what we were supposed to be doing and fell asleep again.
"They're all drunk. In Miss Gruntworthy's office." Pansy was quivering with excitement.
"Drunk? All the teachers?" Suzanne frowned. "But it's teatime." She peered round the restaurant. Sure enough, not a teacher was to be seen.
"Not all of them. Miss Grimbo's not in there. Not that there'd be enough room for her tits in the office anyway. She's still fucking with Miss Mountains in the Wendy House. But that's not it. They've got men in there!" Pansy's eyes were alight.
"Men? Yuck! Jeremy, you mean?"
"Nah, they said he went off to Borcester in Miss Mountains's car with that fat-titted First Former. No, these are real men. Road builders!"
"What are they doing? Fucking?" Suzanne spoke the word with loathing.
"Not when I looked in. They were all asleep on the floor. Except Miss Malone. She was snogging the big one with the whistle."
This was getting less and less credible by the minute. "Miss Malone? Snogging? With a man?"
"He was probably Irish," Pansy explained. "Mine was."
"Yours?"
Pansy found her cousin's reaction gratifying. She rested her elbows on the table and gazed into the middle distance. "His name's Liam. He's twenty-two. Red hair, but I suppose he can't help that. Anyway, I'm seeing him tonight, behind Mr Jeremy's shed."
"What for?" Suzanne was horrified.
"Oh, this and that. And probably the other as well. He got a hard-on as soon as I wobbled my tits at him. I told him I'm nineteen, so it's all right..."
"But..." Suzanne gasped. "It's against the law. You're jailbait."
"No, I'm not," said Pansy earnestly. "If he's under twenty-five and he thinks I'm over sixteen, they can't touch him. So I've got to feed Baby and make myself beautiful for Liam. I'm seeing him at five o'clock..."
"Five o'clock? I thought you said you were seeing him tonight."
"It's nearly dark by five. And it means we can have five hours of uninterrupted shagging before lights-out." Pansy 's expression glazed over and she seemed suddenly anxious to be away. She stood up abruptly and took a few paces before stopping. "Suze. You haven't got any..." And she crept back and whispered in Suzanne's ear.
"What for?"
"Just to see if it works. Liam's got red hair, and most red-haired boys I've met don't have very big willies. His cock didn't feel any bigger than that sausage."
Suzanne pushed her plate away, her appetite gone. Pansy continued without noticing.
"So I wondered if you had any Grow left over, I could take a tub along with me, just to try. Please, Suze!" she ended wistfully.
Suzanne shuddered. "In the bottom of my wardrobe." She turned away, disgusted.
"Wow, thanks, cuz! Hey, if you've finished with that sausage..."
"It's a pity I'm too big to fit in your new car, Mee-gan. I don't know what I'm going to do about these things."
"I don't know what I'm going to do about my car, either," said Smegs glumly. "I bashed it into a couple of trees when I arrived and saw what was going on." They lay side by side. Each of Angelica's breasts was bigger than the rest of her. The nipples were so huge they would only just fit into Smegs's mouth, and the moons were twice as big as her head.
"We've still got the Sweet Chariot, though, haven't we?" We can get into it and go and see the battlefield, like you told me. Hey, why not now? The girls all have the afternoon off." She prodded Smegs into life.
"Ouch! How are you going to find anybody to pull the thing? The girls will have gone back to the school for their tea, and we won't find any oily boys while we're stuck out here in the woods."
"You could drive Jeremy's tractor and pull me along with that. Or the bulldozer, as long as we only want to go forwards! C'mon, Meegs! Let's go." She found her umbrella and poked Smegs again. Then she dug the pointed end into the carpet and scooted rapidly out into the kitchen.
"Oh, God!" Smegs followed on reluctant hands and knees. Her well-chewed nipples trailed painfully along the floor and her outsized pudenda felt like a fruit salad between her sopping thighs.
Angelica already had the back door open and a cool, fresh breeze began to disperse the fug of girl-sex in the Wendy House. "Hey, it's a lovely day out there, Meegs!" Angelica paused at the doorway, cocking an ear. "Listen!"
"What is it?" Smegs arrived, trying to see past Angelica's elephantine left breast. At first Smegs could hear nothing, then it came to her, filling her with dread. "Oh, no. Not again!"
Shots were fired. Three, four, five... and a pause.
Smegs and Angelica waited expectantly.
Six, seven.
They sighed with relief.
But the expected horse-riders failed to gallop into view.
Instead, Vanessa appeared, running in a tired zig-zag; through the trees, down the muddied slope into the little river, up the other side.
"Where's her horse?" murmured Angelica.
"Where are her clothes?" said Smegs. Vanessa was magnificently undressed. She wore only a couple of strategic scraps of clothing stretched across her splendid breasts and the juncture of her powerful thighs. She looked like a character in a Hollywood production. Wearily, she toiled up the slope toward the Wendy House, then her legs could carry her no further and she sagged to the ground.
The two lovers waited glumly for Sally Chung to loom over the horizon on her stallion.
Instead, a great and mighty din filled the air. Vanessa looked up in despair, then buried her head in her hands. The noise died away, a terrible roaring noise, a metallic clanking...
The shadow of the beast blocked out the low afternoon sun.
"What's that noise?" Paddy Riley rushed to the window and tried to see out. There was nothing for him to see in the quadrangle. He spun away from the window and pelted round the room. After two laps, he arrived back at the window again, leaned out and blew his whistle. "Some bugger's nickin' all our fockin' plant," he roared inexplicably.
"What's he talking about, Cee? What plants?"
"He means his bulldozers. They call them plant for some reason. You don't think one of the girls has got that bulldozer started? Those sodding Woods girls...?" We listened to the roar and clatter of the engine, then it died away.
"Maybe it's run out of petrol," I suggested.
We waited, straining our ears. The machine remained silent.
The quadrangle clock struck four.
"Paddy Riley, come back to bed," Molly complained. God, the woman was insatiable.
"Four o'clock," said Smegs, totally unnecessarily.
"High noon," said Angelica.
They edged closer to the door. Something long and cylindrical was stretching its shadow across the back doorway.
"What is it, Mee-gan?"
"Challenger, as far as I can tell. I've never been this close to one." There was a sudden sharp metallic clang, bringing their hearts into their mouths.
"Don't move, Vanessa," came a strident voice. "Stop reet theer."
"Sally Chung," whispered Smegs.
"Sally? In that thing?"
"It's a tank, Angel. The damned girl's stolen a tank from somewhere. There's going to be hell to pay about this. Where did she get it? How did she learn how to drive? What if that gun's loaded?"
Sally appeared, silhouetted against the sky, walking carefully down the front armour of the tank, holding on to the gun barrel. She jumped to the ground, landing lightly in the mud. She wore immaculately-pressed camouflage fatigues and a beret rakishly tilted forward over one eye. She would have passed anywhere as a soldier in an armoured division, if it hadn't been for her sixty-odd inch bust thrusting incongruously out at the front of her uniform.
Looking neither to right nor left, she strode across to Vanessa and stood looking down at her crumpled form. Surprisingly, she extended a hand down to her. "Coom on, you: up you get," she said gently. And she raised the surprised Vanessa from the ground, held her at arms' length for a moment, then folded her to her her rather-more-than-average bosom.
"Maybe Sally will pull my Sweet Chariot over to the battlefield. With her tank."
Smegs looked at Angelica sadly. The woman seemed perfectly serious. "We can't go driving tanks all over the countryside, Angel. The local residents would complain. Shit, where have they gone?"
"Gone? The local residents?" Angelica tried to see out of the back door, but the Angelic-O-Glyde was wedged tight against the doorframe. She wriggled with frustration, her breasts rippling like mountains of chocolate blancmange.
"No, Sally and that girl. They were there a minute ago, now they've..." Smegs edged past a large part of Angelica and peered outside. "It's okay, there they are. Bloody Hellfire!"
"What's the matter? What are they doing?"
"You wouldn't want to know. Well, you might, actually."
"Tell me, tell me..."
"You want me to describe it to you?"
"Yes, yes!"
"They've fallen over in the mud. Vanessa's rolled on top of Sally."
"Fighting? Mee-gan, stop them!"
"No, they're not fighting. Sally's on top now. She's lost her army uniform somehow. She's stark bollock naked. In fact, they both are." Smegs's eyes opened wide as she caught sight of Sally's army fatigues in a neatly folded pile on a tree-stump, with Vanessa's skimpies laid on top. She shook her head, but when she opened her eyes and looked again, the clothes were still there.
"What are they doing?" Angelica was whimpering as she tried to see out of the door.
"Vanessa's on top again. They've stopped kissing now. It's hard to see, as they're both completely covered in mud, but she's got her face in Sally's front bottom and her legs are spread out at about 180 degrees."
"Whose legs?"
"Vanessa's. And Sally's. I can see Sally's hand, but not her fingers, so they must be ... ah, yes, they are."
"All of them?"
"And the thumb. Jeez, I wonder what that feels like! And in all that mud, too. There's loads of steam coming up. They must be rilly-rilly hot."
"So am I, Meegs. Take me outside. I wanna see!"
"Now Sally's on top again. Bloody shit! She didn't learn that in her dad's fish and chip shop!" Smegs had seen enough. "Woooo-oo-wooooo," she howled, and charged out of the doorway to hurl herself on top of the combatants. They rolled away at the crucial second and Smegs landed with a soft splat to slide away on her belly in the slime. "Fuck," she said.
Deprived of her blow-by-blow account, Angelica finally tore the Angelic-O-Glyde free from whatever was holding it, retrieved her umbrella and thrust herself away from the doorway. She had to get off this infernal sledge thing. She had already stood up and walked unaided once this day; she could do it again now.
It was an immense struggle. Every time she tried to raise herself upright on the Angelic-O-Glyde, the darned thing scooted away to one side or the other. At last she worked out how to stop it. She found the switch and thumped at it with her fist. At the third attempt she made contact and the motor slowly died. The fans ceased to pump, the cushion of air leaked away to nothing and the bed of cushions subsided to the floor.
Angelica immediately felt slightly seasick. Controlling the urge to barf, she grabbed at the leg of the kitchen table and slowly hauled herself into a kneeling position. There was a moment of panic as she found herself toppling out of control, and she clutched at the table for support. Her frantic fingers found nothing more substantial than the tablecloth, a pretty cottagey thing with a blue and white check pattern. She sat back in a hail of knives and forks, a dish of fruit, half a loaf, a slab of butter and a hunk of cheese, and a calendar showing a bosomy girl mounted on a donkey, both of them barebacked.
Sobbing with rage and frustration, Angelica half rolled on to one side again, and crawled backwards across the kitchen floor, her breasts following her at a respectful distance. There was no sound from outside, not even the grunts and sighs of Sally and Vanessa's lovemaking. She reached the door and looked out.
Smegs lay on her back in the mud, wondering if she had really been cut out for a career in education. A heavy weight was draped across her thighs. By its softness and general demeanour it was probably Sally. It was also doing something interesting between her legs, but Smegs felt this was perhaps not the most appropriate moment to bring the matter up. Besides, there was another object lying on her face, and by elimination this was probably the girl Vanessa — although from this angle, most girls were remarkably similar.
Smegs probed experimentally with her tongue, and the resultant moan was in a Borcester accent. So that confirmed it. For some reason which Smegs could not adequately explain, she probed again, deeper, and the moan was followed by a flood of not entirely unpleasant-tasting juices. Not unpleasant, but not the distinctive and exclusive taste of a St Cat's girl. It was time for Smegs to end this undignified scene and assert her authority.
"Lemme up!" she screamed like a fishwife. The little pile of muddy girlhood resolved itself and sat up, blinking. And Smegs, Sally and Vanessa gazed up into the eyes of a circle of curious onlookers.
One member of the group appointed herself spokesperson. "Hi, Nessie! Where you been? Your mum's been goin' bleedin' spare."
They were a strange-looking bunch, Angelica decided. She rubbed her eyes. There were four of them. One was a black girl, quite tall, but unusually she had blonde hair. It was really blonde, dirty blonde, and it hung down her back almost to her prominent bum. Then there was the redhead, the one doing all the talking. Wasn't that rather a strange hairstyle for a redheaded girl? Perhaps her mother was from Jamaica. It seemed unlikely, though. And more unlikely the more Angelica thought about it.
The rest of the little group, presumably a posse, were no less bizarre. A plump little girl was bursting out of an unwise scarlet latex cat-suit. Her underwear seemed oddly lumpy somehow. Then there was that other girl, quite pretty, with the low-cut sweater which revealed most of the generously swollen upper slopes of an overripe pair of chocolate-coloured breasts. They were probably much bigger than they looked. They were certainly not what you expected to see on a pale-skinned English rose.
Angelica's strong fingers gripped the door frame and she began to lever herself upright.
"What's she bin chasin' you for, anyway?"
Sally looked uncomfortable as the posse stared at her. She tried to cover her breasts with her hands.
"It's no good doing that, Sally," said Smegs out of the corner of her mouth. "You won't hide those things in a month of Sundays. Stick them out like a real St Cat's girl."
Vanessa spoke up for her new friend. "Sally's been trying to catch up with me to give me a message. She says I can come to St Cat's for a couple of years if I like. My tits are big enough, she says."
Marginally, thought Smegs. Just about big enough. Wait a minute! "Who said she could come to St Cat's?" she demanded.
The red-haired spokesperson glared at Smegs coldly. "Who's she?"
"That's our Miss Mountains," said Sally indignantly. "She does English. So show some respect!"
"Respec'?" the blonde black girl wrinkled her nose, failing to understand. "But she ain't bla..."
"She's a teacher," snarled Smegs, finding her voice. "And you lot are on school property. So I can punish you."
"You can't punish us," said the plump little latex girl. "It's Friday afternoon."
"We finish school at three," the redhead girl explained. "So we came up here to find our Vanessa. And bring her home. Her mum says she's not goin' to keep her dinner hot any longer. If she don't come home tonight, it goes in the bin. Or Mitzi can have it. She's their dog. She says she ain't made of money."
"I can punish you any time I like," snapped Smegs, wondering how she got herself into this bizarre conversation with all its unnerving pronouns. "Since it's a weekend, you can choose whether you help Jeremy, sort panties, spank the Headmistress or write out twenty thousand times, 'I Must Not Trespass On School Property...'"
"She's a nutter!" the quietly attractive girl with the large black breasts said, shaking her head. "Oh, fuck it, not again..." and she dipped into her bag and produced a well-used piece of apparatus. Delving into her sweater with a preoccupied expression, she produced an unexpectedly large breast crowned with a nipple all of two inches long. Somehow she applied the breast pump to the wobbling burden with the skill of a girl who did the same thing a dozen times a day.
The rest of the girls looked away in embarrassment.
"She never used to get her tits out in public until we got mixed up with you lot," the red-haired girl accused Smegs and Sally. "This place is evil."
The posse glanced around them anxiously, as if expecting hellfire and brimstone to descend on them. They weren't at all sure what brimstone might be, but it was probably no fun at all.
"Let's take her home," said the dirty blonde. "They can't make us stay here, spanking Jeremy and writing things on the Headmistress's panties. Come on, Nessie..."
Vanessa looked uncertain. She sat naked in the yellow mud. If she did go home with the posse, she was wondering if the driver would let her on the bus in her condition. He certainly wouldn't let her sit on the seats...
"Nobody ain't goin' noplace!"
Smegs sighed with the resignation of an English teacher confronted with such a volley of triple negatives. Then she sat bolt upright and swivelled in the direction of the Wendy House. So did Sally and Vanessa, and the members of the posse.
"Fuck me!" exclaimed the red-haired girl. Nobody leapt forward to take her up on her offer. They were all transfixed. In the doorway stood a pair of giant breasts, and behind them was a magnificently beautiful young woman, tall and dignified.
The latex girl sat down in the mud with a soft splash.
The girl with the chocolate breasts gaped at Angelica, and the breast pump fell unheeded into the mud as the huge breast stretched itself to an astonishing length, swaying ponderously from side to side. Little dribbles of milk sprayed from it like a watering can. Unthinking, she dragged the other breast out into the open and lowered it to dangle next to its partner.
"You all got a job to do," said Angelica, now she had their undivided attention. "Mee-gan, would you pull my Sweet Chariot over here please? Help her, Sally."
The two of them scrambled to their feet without a word, advanced to the little cart and dragged it closer to the door. They stood holding the shafts horizontally, still staring at the wondrous Angelica.
"The rest of you, get over here and stand where I can see you all."
The stunned posse formed up in line in front of the Wendy House, in the shadow of Sally's tank.
"Right, you two: Vanessa, and you, what's your name, girl?" Angelica pointed a finger at the dirty blonde.
"Mandy," the girl muttered.
"Mandy what, girl?"
"Mandy, Miss."
"That's better. Don't you forget it. You and Vanessa, you two are the leaders. You with the udders, who are you?"
"Jennie, Miss."
"Good girl. Put them away. You go with that ginger one...?"
"Sandra, Miss."
"Sandra. And you in the rubber suit...?"
"Monica, Miss."
"You're the shortest, you go with Sally. You two first, into the shafts, move!"
Sally edged her way between the shafts and settled herself uncomfortably next to the clammy red latex girl. The shafts were wide enough to accommodate a horse. Two small but more than buxom girls made it side by side, but it was a tight squeeze.
"Now Jennie and Sandra, quickly!" Angelica grinned in satisfaction as the two of them took up their positions. They were just the right height. "Now Vanessa and Mandy at the front. No, Mandy on the left, Vanessa knows her way around so she's the lead horse. You all comfortable? Mee-gan, you may help me mount. Back up to the doorway."
The Sweet Chariot reversed uncertainly along the path, coming to a halt at the doorstep.
Angelica took a huge breath and braced her back. It was sufficient to raise her monstrous breasts a few inches from the ground. She was bearing their colossal weight, using her own surprising strength. With Smegs helping, she shuffled forward to the step at the back of the Sweet Chariot, feeling for it with one foot.
"Ready, Mee-gan? The left one first!"
Smegs had to crawl beneath Angelica's breast until it was partially supported on her back. "Ready," she called, then crept forward a pace or two. The Sweet Chariot sagged on its springs as Angelica's left breast settled on board.
There must be an easier way of earning a living, Smegs thought as she took the weight of the right one. "Let's go," she shouted, and Angelica took a cautious step on to the back of the cart.
"All right! I'm on! Great work, Meegs! Now come on out and push my ass."
Angelica was immensely heavy. Smegs stood up and pushed various parts of her until she was more or less in position. "Hang on a sec," she called, and went back into the Wendy House, emerging seconds later with a blanket. Clambering aboard, she helped Angelica ease the massive bulk of each of her breasts so they lay comfortably on the floor with their owner standing between them.
"If I ever wake up from this dream I'm going to have Mr Crabfart buy you a custom-made chariot with a hydraulic lift built in," Smegs panted as she draped the blanket across her friend's shoulders and breasts. "Is there room for me to ride up here?"
"You can sit on the back," said Angelica with generosity. "Jeremy didn't really design this thing big enough for four. Right, girls?"
The six chariot-pullers looked back over their shoulders, not quite able to believe what was happening. They gripped the shafts and heaved upwards. The weight had risen appallingly since Angelica had been loaded on board.
"Okay." Angelica found the whip and cracked it experimentally above the heads of her team. "Wow! This is so kewl!" The whip parted Vanessa's hair, sending up a little puff of dried yellow mud. "Left wheel and walk on. Slowly, slow-ly. That's good! Nicely, now. Faster! Trot!"
They gradually accelerated, down into the river bed and out the other side. Already, steam was wafting from the flanks and bouncing breasts of the overheated toiling girls.
Angelica cracked the whip once more. "Let's go!"
PANSY WAITED at the back of Jeremy's shed. She knew that it was a woman's privilege to be a little late, but she didn't care about that. Which was why she was forty minutes early.
And she was practically frothing. If she didn't get Liam's throbbing member, whatever its inadequacies, between her legs, she was going to explode. Possibly quite literally. She hadn't had sex for almost ten days, and the last time had been deeply unsatisfying.
In fact, the last ten or fifteen times hadn't been all that memorable. The boys of Lord Ted's were enthusiastic but untutored. They didn't have Practical Sex on their curriculum. Not that they could really practise it without live girls, Pansy realised. Perhaps this was something she ought to mention to Miss Gruntworthy. A party of girls, preferably from the Middle School, ought to go over to Lord Ted's occasionally to help out with Practical Sex lessons.
Not too often. Pansy appreciated the importance of not being greedy when asking for favours from the Headmistress. Once every couple of days ought to be often enough.
She sought relief with a couple of fingers, but it wasn't really satisfactory. God, she was so hot! Not really thinking, she wrenched the top off the tub of Grow and plunged her fingers into the cooling, soothing cream. Steam rose from the pale magnolia-coloured substance.
"I wonder what's in it," she mused, raising her steaming fingers to her nose and taking a deep sniff. "Wowee!" It hit the back of her head with a jolt like the kick of a mule. She sniffed again. "Hey, man," she giggled happily and sat down on the mossy grass with her legs spread wide. With desperate urgency, she unloaded her breasts from her bra and rested them on the ground on each side of her thighs, to cool off.
The last of the evening sun was dappling the leaves in a myriad of colours, and vague choral music rang in her ears. "Doo-wop, showaddy waddy," she sang blissfully. "Sha-la-la-la-laaa!" Time for another sniff. "This is a great batch, Suzie-baby."
And as she rolled on to her back with rainbows cascading around her overheated front bottom like little tinkling bells, she caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye.
A brightly painted chariot cruised gently by, hauled by six naked girls, plastered in yellow mud. Standing in this unusual vehicle, cracking a whip, was Miss Grimbo, sharing the conveyance with a pair of simply outrageously huge tits. Pansy looked down at her own insignificant 140-inch rack and prodded the sides of each breast. They rolled around a bit but stayed stubbornly the same size.
Before she drifted off into merciful oblivion, Pansy thought she saw Miss Mountains glaring disapprovingly at her from the back of the bouncing chariot. "When I wake up, I'll write a poem about this," she sighed, and rolled on to her back.
The Sweet Chariot came to the top of the hill where the path opened out on to the springy turf, cropped short by sheep.
"Wooah, girls. We're here."
The pullers stopped gratefully and flopped over each other, exhausted from the unaccustomed exercise. The sun had almost gone now, starting to drop down below the horizon at the end of the valley. The low angle of the rays threw the slightest undulations of the smooth grass into dramatic relief.
Smegs dismounted and came round to the side. "It always looks at its best at sunset. All those little humps and hollows stand out so clearly."
Angelica nodded. "It's as if there are all those dead bodies still lying around."
"The battle ended at sunset. They could have finished them off, but they must have been too tired. They made supper and went to bed, and the enemy just slunk away. It was the turning point of the war."
"You make the story really come to life, Meegs."
"I've been teaching it for enough years." Smegs sighed. "It had been a long day. They'd been fighting on and off since daybreak. Where we are now, this would have been all tents, as far as you could see. The enemy was on the other side of the valley, up at the top."
The little fat girl in the red latex cat-suit turned round. "Did they have tanks and machine guns, Miss?"
"No, Monica. It was a long time ago, before they had such things. They had guns, but mostly they just went pop and made lots of smoke."
"My grandad was in the war," said Monica sadly. "Grandma said he was only seventeen. He just caught the train one day and went away. She never saw him again."
All of them, the six girls and the two women, stared out over the battlefield, imagining all those young men who had marched away and not come back. The sun dipped behind the trees and disappeared. A chill breeze had sprung up from somewhere. "We ought to be getting back, said Smegs. "It's all right for those of us with clothes on, but some of you are only wearing mud."
"I'm not even wearing mud. Just this blanket," Angelica said. "Let's get back to the Wendy House and have something hot to eat. I think I might even be able to rustle up some crumpets!"
"Did you enjoy it, Vets."
Helvetica leaned closer to Jeremy and rested her head on his broad shoulder. For a brief moment, he lowered his cheek to the top of her head, then swung the car into another of the tight bends on the road up to St Cat's from Borcester.
She allowed her strong thigh to rest against his leg, and didn't take it away when he changed gear. For the umpteenth time, she felt herself melting inside.
"Goes well, doesn't it?"
"Mm-hmm."
"You sound tired. It's been a long day for you, getting the Form Head Sash and everything."
"Yeah! I'm seventy-two inches," she added without being asked, then felt a scarlet flush spread right down to the tips of her nipples.
Jeremy gulped and tried to concentrate on his driving. "You were very good while we were at the garage. Most young girls don't enjoy that sort of thing."
"The boys looked after me," Helvetica sighed, adding under her breath, "but I'd rather be looked after by you..."
"I noticed. You made their day! They don't often see a girl with such vast ... such a pretty girl as you."
Helvetica blushed prettily. She had spent the afternoon being waited on hand and foot by three spotty-faced youths at Bert's Body Shop. They had competed with each other to ply her with coffee and tea and hot chocolate and Coke and a variety of other fluids. Maybe they wanted to see if her tits would get even bigger if they gave her enough to drink.
Her bra certainly felt extremely tight, but that was normal enough these days.
"What did you find to talk about?" Jeremy asked her.
"School, mostly. I told them about the classes we do, Sex Theory and Sexual Chemistry, and how we'll be doing Sex Practical next year..."
"That will be nice for you, all the girls enjoy Practical..."
"...And they asked me how old I was. I wish I hadn't told them."
"You told them the truth? What did they say?"
"Two of them went very red and wandered away. The other one said he had a baby sister the same age as me, but she didn't have any tits yet, although her bestest friend Kathryn did, but only little ones. I told him mine were still growing. He went a bit quiet after that. So I went to the bog." And brought myself off sixteen times thinking of you, Helvetica didn't quite say.
Jeremy turned in to the school driveway and slowed to a walking pace. He didn't want Helvetica to get out of the car and go back to the dorm. It must be the pheromones or something. "Any time you want to talk about ... anything, just come and knock on my door," he said, his throat oddly dry.
Helvetica didn't dare look at him. "Thanks," she said in a tiny voice, and wondered if the seats of Miss Mountains's car were waterproof. Leather must be waterproof, she thought, or cows would leak. The thought comforted her and she came tumultuously.
"Sorry? Did you say something?" Jeremy pulled up beside his shed and turned off the engine. "You've missed your tea," he said. "I was going to make myself something. You're welcome to join me if you don't mind beans on toast..."
Angelica let the girls slow to a leisurely walk back through the woods. "Why didn't Jeremy put any lights on this thing?" she complained as they picked their stumbling way along the path. Eventually, they stopped altogether, with the chariot canted over to one side. Careened, thought Smegs, who had recently looked up the word in the dictionary after one of the girls had used it incorrectly in a history essay. She sighed heavily as she climbed down into the mud and sploshed round to the front. The chariot pullers were up to their knees in it, sobbing piteously.
"Come on, girls, follow me and I'll lead you back on to the path." Smegs moved along the shafts, touching, offering quiet words of encouragement to each of the girls. "All right, Sally? Monica? Not far to go now. Sandra? Try and ease your foot out of the mud before we start pulling. That's it, Jennie, like that. Ready, Mandy? Nessa? Wait for it..." She scrambled ahead of the chariot and stood in the middle of the path. "Okay, just aim straight for me and keep going. Don't worry about running me over, I'll get out of your way. Come on!"
Angelica didn't even need to crack her whip. The chariot almost flew out of the mud, and with Smegs trotting along in front, they made brisk progress back to the Wendy House.
"And then we climbed into the back of the Jaguar and did it. It was my first time. And Miss Gruntworthy's."
"Wow! That's fantastic! I wish I ... I mean, I bet she enjoyed it..."
"As a matter of fact, I don't think she did, all that much. We were bouncing about all over the place on the back seat, and I couldn't get it in."
"Oooh..." Helvetica blushed prettily.
"Would you like me to show it to you?"
"Show it to me?" Helvetica's voice rose to a squeak.
"Come on," said Jeremy, scrambling to his feet, and taking her surprised hand, he led the huge Form Head out of the caretaker's shed. It was quite dark by now and there were no lights shining at all as he guided her round the side of the building. The dim shape of a big car loomed in front of them. The door swung open silently. "Here it is. The very same Jaguar! In you get, Vets!"
He called me Vets! She slid her big bottom across the back seat. Leather again. Jeremy climbed in beside her and closed the door with a solid clunk. This was it, thought Helvetica, and wondered if she ought to get undressed or wait to be asked. How did the saying go? Lie back and think of England? I'll have to remember every little detail, Valentina will want me to tell her.
Jeremy bounced experimentally up and down on the seat. "See how springy it is. Once you start, you can't stop."
"Oh!"
"Turn round the other way and kneel on the seat."
"Like this?" Helvetica gulped. Fortunately it was dark in the car, so at least he wouldn't be able to see the state of her sopping underwear. She wondered if she could somehow get them off without his noticing.
"Now try humping like a dog," Jeremy advised her.
"A dog?" Helvetica knew what to do. She did it. Something about the springiness of the back seat, the springs of the car and the texture of the leather made it all very difficult. She humped and thrust and rocked backwards and forwards, feeling increasingly insecure.
"Keep going," Jeremy giggled as the girl slid closer and closer to the edge of the seat.
Maybe it would have been easier if she didn't have such huge breasts, she thought. It's a bit late to be thinking of that now. I've got them. They were flopping around beneath her chest, half squashed between her and the seat, squeezed tight together by her arms, forcing her arms apart.
"Ooof!" Helvetica's hand slipped off the seat and she lolloped heavily down on to her bosom. It hurt. And Jeremy was laughing. What was so funny about it? It was uncomfortable in here. She was worn out from carrying these huge breasts around all day, and now here she was, lying on top of them, falling off the back seat of a car in a great big soaking wet heap.
What's the matter? Vets?" Jeremy stopped laughing and touched Helvetica on the shoulder. She stiffened. "I'm sorry. Don't cry, baby."
"I'm stuck," Helvetica sobbed wretchedly. "I can't get up. I've got my ... my chest stuck down between the seats." She wriggled, and succeeded only in wedging herself further in.
"Hang on..."
Helvetica had no choice. Whenever she tried to move at all she only sank lower. What a position for a girl to find herself in, and about to lose her virginity, too. She now had one hand on the floor carpet, her fingers sinking into the crisp velvety pile. A cool draught of air as the other door opened.
"Here you are. You can get out this side." Jeremy's hand was hard and horny when she grabbed at it and let him support her weight. "Wow, you're a big girl, even by St Cat's standards! Out you come."
Out she came in an undignified scramble and stood up shakily. The door clunked shut behind her and just for a few seconds, Jeremy held her close. Parts of her were closer to him than others. And vice versa. She shuddered.
"Come on, you! You'll catch your death of cold out here. Time you were back in the dorm and changing into something more comfortable."
Something drier. "I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely.
"No, I'm sorry, Vets. I didn't realise. Anyway, promise me..." he laughed again with his big comforting arm round her shoulders, "promise me that when you're old enough to do it, you won't try it in the back of a Jaguar. Not for your first time, anyway."
Helvetica swallowed. It sounded loud in her ears. Words wouldn't come so she just nodded.
"Bloody hell! What's that?"
There was an enormous puffing, panting noise, a crashing of many feet, followed by a clattering of solid wooden wheels and a creaking of springs. The moon suddenly peeked from behind a cloud, bathing the scene in a pale blue light. And passing within six feet of them, at a full trot, Angelica's Sweet Chariot thundered by, its six girls blowing hard but pulling strongly. They shot past, oblivious to the couple watching them from the shadows, and rattled away in the distance towards the welcoming light from the kitchen window of the Wendy House.
They hugged each other, relaxed after their sudden fright.
"All right now?"
"All right now."
Helvetica didn't have a big brother so she'd certainly never kissed one, but that was how Jeremy's lips felt.
"Woah. Stop, girls! Back up!"
The Sweet Chariot reversed carefully up to the door of the Wendy House and stopped with a final creak. Only the panting of the horses broke the sudden silence. Smegs strolled up and touched each girl on the arm, with a little word for each. "Vanessa and Mandy, come and help Miss Grimbeau. The rest of you hold it there for just a moment longer until Miss Grimbeau gets down, then you can put the shafts down."
It wasn't going to be easy. It hadn't been easy getting Angelica up on to the Sweet Chariot; getting down off it, backwards, would be twice as hard.
"Can you move, Angel?"
"I don't know. I've been standing on this thing for an hour. You're going to have to help me with my breasts."
Smegs gave a gulp. Vanessa and Mandy frowned. If the lady couldn't manage with such giant tits, why had she let them grow so big?
"She's only got to step down on to the ground," Smegs told them. Get the blanket and lay it on the floor. Then when Miss Grimbeau moves backwards so her breasts are on the blanket, you two can lift it up at each side. Then you support her until she's on to her sledge thingie. Okay?"
"They'll be heavy," Vanessa complained.
"Of course they're heavy," Smegs snapped. "Just think how it must be for her." Her voice softened. "But you won't have to lift the full weight of them. They're sort of attached to her chest."
Angelica was beginning to wish they weren't. It was okay being busty; it was a gloriously feminine feeling, one shared by most of the St Cat's girls. But there was a helluva difference between being busty and having a pair of tits each of which was heavier than the rest of you. She braced her back muscles, took a deep breath and lifted. Her breasts stretched — she could see the skin at the top of them creasing into a pattern of stress lines — but they stayed right where they were on the floor of the Sweet Chariot. Standing upright for an hour had allowed them to stretch to an entirely new shape. Miss Clitress had been right. Measuring a girl on the Dangle Table, the longer you let them hang, the longer they got. An image came to her of herself lying on the Dangle Table, nine feet off the floor, with her nipples drawing little patterns in the dust. She imagined Clit with her hand out of sight inside her black stretch pants, a blur of movement as she panted and moaned and gasped and went woo-woo-woo-woo...
"Are you ready, Angel?
"I won't be able to help you much," Angelica admitted. "I seem to have gotten bigger."
"Whaaa-at?"
"I've been standing up so long, they've stretched. I might be able to move backwards, with them dragging along the floor, but they're gonna hurt like crazy when they flop off the back of the wagon."
"The girls will catch them in the blanket." Smegs wished she felt confident about that. She knew how appallingly heavy those juggernauts were.
"Can't the other girls help?"
"They can't put the shafts down yet. If they let go now with you on the back, the shafts will fly straight up in the air and you'll get tipped out."
"Two of them could hold it," Angelica said. She did teach science, after all. "As long as they're right at the front. They'll be able to exert the maximum leverage."
She had pronounced it 'levverage'.
"It's leverage, with a long 'e'," Smegs insisted. "How is it you pronounce Megan as Mee-gan, but when you say leverage you don't say leverage you say levverage?"
"Shit, Meegs!"
"Shit, Miss," agreed Vanessa and Mandy.
Smegs gasped at such blatant lèse-majesté, then realised that the girls weren't St Cat's students so she had no jurisdiction.
"How can we help?"
"What are you doing round here?" Smegs screeched at Jennie and Sandra who had appeared, standing with hands on hips looking slightly menacing.
"We've come to help with Miss Angel's titties," said Jennie.
"But you can't leave just those two to hold all the weight of the chariot!"
Sandra shrugged. "Why not? They've got plenty of levverage."
Smegs glowered at her, then looked at the front end of the vehicle, where Sally Chung and Monica, the red latex girl, stood patiently and unconcernedly leaning on the shafts, their heads close together, deep in conversation. It seemed to be all a question of leverage.