WE BOTH sat and looked at Michaela. She was laying into a dish of cornflakes as if it
was her last meal on earth. I suppose she was eating for three, after all. Since the
previous evening, her breasts seemed to have grown another ten pounds each.
"She doesn't look much like a brother,
Cee."
"It's a good disguise, Shan. But here it is." She
pointed at the printout with a spoon. "From this point onward in the records, there's
no mention of Michael: he became Michaela. The strange thing is that Anastasia denies all
knowledge of it. She must be lying."
I shook my head. "Not Anastasia. She doesn't know how
to lie. If she says she didn't do it, she didn't."
"Well, if she didn't, who did? Who else can
drive the computer?"
"Nobody. She tried to teach me, but it was way over my
head." An eerie feeling came to me. "Cee?"
"Um-hmm?" She was busily turning over the sheets,
page after page. I heard Michaela finish demolishing her dish of cereal. She stood up,
belched fluidly and padded heavily off into the kitchen.
"If Anastasia didn't invent the system, and we don't
know who did, how about ... could it have been ... Michael?"
Corinne froze. She was still staring at the printout, but
not seeing anything. Slowly, she sat up and looked directly at me. "Shan?"
"Cee?"
"Shannie. You are a genius!"
The poor girl had flipped. Too many late nights. She got up
from the bed and advanced on me, stark naked. My spleen even forgot to turn cartwheels.
"Cee, what's the matter?"
"You are brilliant!" She flung her arms
around my neck and planted her lips on mine. While it felt nice, and everything, there is
a time and a place. Michaela was staring at us from the kitchen doorway.
"Oh, excuse me, Miss," she leered, wide eyed.
"Could I have this cake. It will only go off. It's fresh cream."
Corinne detached herself from my mouth. "Yes, go
on," she called, over her shoulder.
"And this oxtail soup, Corinne, please?"
"Yes, anything."
Over Corinne's shoulder, I watched in horror as Michaela
poured cold oxtail soup over the cream cake and attacked it with a fork. "What do you
mean, genius?" I said, forcing my mind from Michaela's breakfast.
"Michael invented the system! It would all fit
like a jigsaw puzzle if he did. This funny feeling I was getting from time to time. As if
I knew I ought to have a brother, but didn't know where he'd gone. I bet when
Anastasia brings us the last of the data, we will see that Michael invented the system,
perhaps at University, if he's that bright. Who knows, I might even have been his contact
at St Cat's, sending data back to him on a computer link ...!"
"Don't get carried away, Cee ..."
"Why not? It would all fit in. If he did invent it, and
the University installed a computer on Fuckh, and packed him off up there to work in peace
and seclusion, why else would there be a direct link between Fuckh and St Cat's?"
That's the trouble with Corinne. She gets these ridiculous
ideas.
"You must change her back to Michael, Cee! Now you know, you can't leave her as a
girl."
I still wasn't convinced, but Corinne seemed so certain. She
ploughed on through the piles of paper, occasionally nodding and pointing out some further
scrap of evidence. When I tried to argue with her, she patiently pointed out half a dozen
sound reasons why I could not be right. Michaela was Michael, that was that.
"We can't change her back, Shan. Look at her. Isn't she
a sweetie?"
I looked at Michaela. Whatever else she was, 'sweetie'
wasn't the word that sprang to mind. Mercifully, she had finished her breakfast without
any accidents, and was now painting her toenails. She was lying on her back with one foot
raised on a chair. With a tiny brush attached to a metre-long wooden rule, she peered over
the mountain of her twins belly. By balancing the rule on her mound, she was just about
able to apply nail varnish to her toes, her feet and most of her ankles. It kept her
quiet, at least.
A bell rang. Someone at the main school entrance.
"Get it, Mikki, would you?" Sweetie or not,
Corinne had no qualms about sending her little pregnant sister on errands. "She needs
the exercise," Corinne whispered to me as Michaela struggled to her feet and
good-naturedly trundled out of the door.
"She shouldn't really be answering the door, Cee. Not
dressed like that."
"Too late now." It was, too. A yell of terror was
followed by girlish giggles, then Michaela appeared, carrying a parcel.
"I don't think that man had ever seen a pregnant girl
before," she laughed. Everything jiggled when she laughed.
"You should have put something on. Bra and pants isn't
really the way to answer the door."
"No, Miss," she muttered, thinking 'spoilsport'.
"I wonder what it is?" She shook the parcel. "It's addressed to the
school." Michaela picked at the wrapping, revealing one corner. Oooh, look! It's
..." She tore at the paper and peeked inside. "It IS, Miss! It's my
computer!"
It was, too. She ripped the packaging material off and
tossed it into a corner. "It's not broken or anything. I wonder where it's
been."
"You must have left it somewhere, you careless
bitch," Corinne said heartlessly. "How did they know whose it was? Is your name
on it?"
"They must have switched it on and found my stuff in
there." She switched it on and puzzled away at the machine for a while, frowning.
"Oh, shit. They've deleted all my games and stuff. There's just some boring stuff on
here." She hit a key or two then closed the lid, pouting. "Why can't people
leave things alone?"
"Serves you right for losing it in the first place.
You'd better take care of it now. Put a proper name and address label on it this
time."
Thinking dark thoughts about older sisters and people who
delete games from laptops, Michaela slouched away sulkily. The door closed, and we heard
her going upstairs.
"You've upset her now, Cee. She's gone to cry on
Smegs's shoulder."
"Horny, disgusting little slut." Corinne seemed to
have changed her opinion dramatically in five minutes. "Maybe we should change
her back after all. Still, Michael might be even worse. He sounds a terrible nerd. Nah,
we'll let Mikki have her twins, then we'll think about changing her again!"
"Where's Staze?" I asked.
"Down the lab. Not a happy bunny, sitting down there
listening to the printers clattering away. I shouldn't be surprised if she gets bored and
decides to change somebody. If I turn into a frog, Shannie, be sure and take me out to the
fountain."
I felt a chill creep over me all of a sudden. Then the
lights flickered. I clung to Corinne in alarm. Mercifully, she didn't turn into a clammy
little creature with long hind legs. She didn't turn into anything.
"What was that?" I asked her.
"It was either a glitch on the power supply, or
Anastasia just got bored and changed something." We stared around the room, but
nothing looked different.
"Do you feel any different, Cee?"
"No. But if Staze was out for revenge on me for sending
her down to the lab to watch the printers, she would just change us without protecting our
patterns, so we'd never even know about it."
"You seem very calm about it. She might do
anything!"
"She won't do much. Not Staze. She loves you too much
to do anything to you, and if she changed me, you'd be bound to notice eventually, now you
know the way the system works."
"I do?"
"Yeah." She was preoccupied again, poring over a
particularly interesting bit of her printout. "Fuck ME!" she said at
length.
"What's the matter?" She was almost vibrating with
excitement.
"I've just realised why my tits are so huge!"
"You what?
"I'm a benchmark! That bastard Michael. He's made my
tits the biggest in St Cat's. Like a reference. However big any other girl gets, mine have
to be bigger." She began flinging paperwork all over the place in her frenzy, looking
for something. She found it. "Here we are. Measurements. If we were to get a readout
of all the St Cat's measurements arranged by bust size, mine would always be on top. Wanna
bet on it?"
"No. You've always been huge. Well, not always. You've
been different sizes, I seem to remember. And there are all sizes of stuff in your
wardrobe. But you've always been the biggest. Always bigger than me."
"We could change all that, Shan. If you wanted to be
biggest, you could be. I could get rid of these monsters and be a normal girl with eighty
or ninety inches!"
What a horrible thought. She was already up and dragging me
by the hand out of the door.
"Staze! Stand up a minute!"
"Miss?" Anastasia stood up, looking at me
strangely. She was wearing a kind of tent, but it didn't conceal her tummy.
"You're ... pregnant!"
Anastasia laughed, then stopped suddenly. "Of course I
am. I'm nearly five months gone. You knew. I told you when I was overdue after
Christmas."
Corinne's eyes were wide. "I worry about you, Shan.
Staze has been preggers for ages. She talks of nothing else, you'd think she was the first
St Cat's girl to have a baby."
"Clark's really excited about it, Miss. He wants to
call her Chauntaille, Miss!"
I clutched my head in both hands. It was obvious what had
happened. Anastasia had got bored and given herself a baby, a daughter, due in the summer
holidays. To spite Corinne, she had left her unprotected, but had protected me. Naughty,
naughty girl! If she hadn't been in a delicate condition, I'd have given her a good
spanking.
A trundling noise came down the corridor. We looked out the
door. It was Jeremy, with Michaela perched in a wheelbarrow, looking like a bosomy and
highly ornamental garden gnome. She climbed out with dignity, and thanked Jeremy. They
looked as if they had just got out of bed. Jeremy at least had a guilty expression on his
face. Michaela just looked thoroughly fucked.
Michaela came into the lab. She spied Anastasia, standing
there in her Junior Miss maternity dress. "You bitch," she snarled. "You
can't do anything original, can you?" Clearly, Anastasia had protected
Michaela as well.
"What's the matter, Mikki?" Anastasia pleaded,
unable to understand. "Of course I'm pregnant. I told you weeks ago in ante-natal
classes."
"Slut!"
"Course she told you, Mikki!" Corinne was looking
at her sister with the same expression she had recently given me. "You can see she's
five months gone."
"She wasn't yesterday. She's stuffed a pillow down her
dress just to copy me, the little cow!"
Jeremy nodded uncertainly in agreement.
"Mikki's right, Cee," I said. "Anastasia must
have changed her pattern. Did you, Staze? Come on. You can tell me. If you were bored and
gave yourself a baby, it was a good game, and a bit of fun, but now it's over. We have to
change you back again."
"What are you on about, Miss? Why would I be bored? I
was watching the data on the screen. I didn't do anything."
Of course she wouldn't remember. Once she made herself
pregnant, she would have been in the club for five months. I bet she even remembered the
moment of conception. My head was throbbing. Corinne looked worried, though.
"Is this right, Shan? You don't remember Anastasia as
being pregnant yesterday?"
Oh, thank God for Corinne's amazing intellect and brain
power. Even though she hadn't been protected, so she 'knew' that Anastasia had been
pregnant for five months, my darling was sufficiently detached to question what her brain
was telling her.
"That's right, Cee! Anastasia has changed herself to
being pregnant. She didn't protect your pattern first, so you don't know about the
change."
"Sorry, Shan. It's a neat idea, but it's no use."
But her eyes looked haunted, somehow.
Smegs wandered in. "Hi, all. Was that a delivery man at
the door earlier? I'm expecting a parcel from Korea. The first ever prototype of the Full
Size Smeggy DollŪ."
"No, it was the man delivering my computer, I showed it
to you half an hour ago." Michaela told her.
"I thought you had the prototype Full Size Smeggy the
other day, Smegs," said Corinne. " When you went to Borcester with
Michaela."
"No, it wasn't at the station. The flight was delayed
from Korea." Smegs was perfectly straight faced. "I came back early from
Borcester on the bus."
Michaela gasped, her mouth opening and closing slowly.
"I thought you went to Borcester in your car," I
said. "When Zeke Jones's taxi was struck by lightning out in the car park."
Jeremy looked puzzled. "Last Tuesday? Smegs, you
remember. It poured with rain, and we had a thunderstorm. You were in bed with me all
afternoon."
Corinne disagreed. "Smegs went with Mikki in the taxi,
but they both came back on the bus."
"I didn't!" said Michaela hotly, "I got into
Mr Jones's taxi with Miss Mountains, but we saw someone I knew in the town, so I got out
and came back later in his car after we'd had a shag in his mum's bed."
"You're all wrong," said Anastasia. "The
gynaecologist was sick on Tuesday. You remember, I took the phone message and told you,
Mikki. You have to go next week, an hour earlier."
Corinne sat down. Despite her obvious confusion, her brain
was working overtime on these appalling problems. Someone had seriously screwed up the
system.
"We can't change anything until we've sorted out this cock-up, Cee! Everybody has
a different story about what happened the day we made Michaela pregnant."
"I know, but it won't make any difference to my being
the benchmark. That was set ages ago. The Michaela business is just a little glitch, and
we'll get it sorted in time." She turned over the latest sheets of paper.
"Hello!" she said. I was getting nervous every time she said that.
"What is it this time?"
"I wasn't always the biggest!"
"You weren't? You mean Cassandra got bigger than you
for a while?"
"No, not Cassandra. You did!"
"Me?"
"Here it is in black and white. From that time ... there,
for four minutes, you were the benchmark. Don't ask me why it happened, nor why somebody
changed it back again, but for four minutes, you were a couple of feet bigger than
me."
"Bigger than you?" I gazed at her chest, and down
at my own in disbelief. "Two FEET?"
"I was smaller than this of course. But you were bigger
than you are now. Bigger than Cassandra, even. I wish I'd seen it!"
"So do I. I can't remember a thing ..." There was
a niggling feeling, but nothing I could describe as a memory.
"Well, anyway, it changed back four minutes later. But
it would work. I could make you the benchmark and get my breasts down to a
reasonable size again. I could play netball again!"
"Again? You mean you used to play?"
"Until I was nine, yes. Then I got these things. Oh,
come on, Shannie," she whined piteously. "I've had huge boobies for thirteen
years. You only got yours when you were fourteen, and they only got really big a
couple of years ago. It must be your turn now."
"But I don't want to be biggest at St Cat's. I wouldn't
be able to walk!"
"You'd be okay when the breast boys came back. You'd
have them to carry your tits around. And you could practise with a wheelbarrow until then.
It's fun. A barrow never goes where you want it to. Staze would teach you ..."
"NO! Absolutely not!"
"Spoilsport. I thought you were my bestest
friend."
"I am. I just don't want a fifteen foot bust, that's
all."
"It wouldn't be that big, Shan!"
"It would have to be, to be bigger than Cassandra's.
Hers must be about two hundred!"
"No, yours just have to be bigger than Cassandra's.
Hers could be smaller than they are now."
"Corinne. NO!"
"Hunh." Corinne sulked like a Junior girl.
"You're horrible." Then her expression brightened. "It's all right. You
don't need to be biggest at all. I've got an even better idea. Michaela!"
"What about her?" Already, I had a nasty feeling I
knew the answer.
"We'll make her the benchmark. She will be the
biggest at St Cat's. She's not a teacher, so she will be automatically Head Girl. It's
daft having Cassandra as Head Girl. She's no age at all. At least, Michaela is nearly
eighteen."
"But she's only four feet six tall. You can't make her
any bigger! Imagine Michaela with tits as big as mine. Or worse, Anastasia's! She's miles
bigger than me!"
"Don't exaggerate, Shannie. Not miles. No more than a
couple of feet. But that's all right. Michaela won't look too outrageous. I'm only five
feet, myself. I thought you liked the idea of little girls with huge breasts. It's a great
idea. I get nice little tits again, and you can be any size you like, up to Michaela's
size of course.
"Oh, of course. Thanks a bunch, Cee!"
"No problem, Shan. Just don't ever try and tell me I
don't do anything for you, that's all."
CLIT WAS seething. She sat at her workbench with a face like thunder. She had finally
felt sufficiently sane to get on with the work that the headmistress had told her to do,
but now that she had sat down and logged on to the school computer system, everything was
grinding along at a snail's pace. Error messages flashed on to the screen, telling her
that resources were low, that such and such a system was busy, or timed out, or not
available. What, she wondered, was going on?
She got so pissed off with the whole business that she
decided to log off and try again later, in the middle of the night. But in that instant,
the screen cleared, the error messages disappeared.
SYSTEM STATUS NORMAL
Mentally shrugging her shoulders, she asked the machine for
a listing of all personnel at St Cat's, sorted by bust size. The computer thought for a
moment, then told her she was out of luck.
'Sorry, Clit, mate, you're out of luck, girl,' it said
soothingly. 'The database you have requested is in use. Please try later. Go and have a
cup of tea.'
"I don't want a fucking cup of tea, arsehole,"
Clit stormed. "I want a listing of all the fucking personnel at St Cat's, sorted by
bust measurement."
'Sorry, Clit, love,' the machine informed her, 'not
programmed to accept voice commands. And there's no need to fucking swear, either!'
"Aaaargh!" Clit stood up and backed away
from the haunted laptop.
'Where are you going, Clit?' it said.
"Nowhere. What's it to you anyway?" She found a
broom and held it by the head. Carefully, with trembling hands, she stabbed at the
computer's off switch, taking several tries before she shut it down. Panting, sweating,
her pulse thumping in her veins, she dropped the broom on the floor, crept forward and
closed the lid of the terrible computer. She half expected to see the lid spring open and
taunt her with a stream of personalised error messages, but it remained shut. She picked
it up and thrust it into a drawer. A second or so later, she took it out and put it into a
filing cabinet, slammed it shut and locked it. She took up the heavy steel bar which
secured the cabinet against more determined thieves, slid it down through the slots in
front of the drawers and secured it with its massive padlock.
Only then did she feel it was safe to burst into tears.
"Aren't you coming to bed, Cee? What are you doing?"
"Another half hour, and I'll be done." She was
staring at the screen like a mad woman, typing in short bursts and sitting back to survey
the results. Poor Anastasia was asleep on the floor, curled up protectively round her
belly like a dog.
"You've been in here all day. It can't be good for you.
How long's Anastasia been asleep down there?"
"Anna who? Oh, Staze. Dunno. She should go to bed if
she's tired. I don't need her any more, I've got the hang of this thing now." She
typed another staccato burst. The lights flickered again. They'd been flickering for
several hours.
"What are you doing, anyway?"
"Just rationalising some of the girls. Only their
breasts, nothing important. Then when I make Michaela the benchmark, Clit won't suddenly
run out of bras of the right sizes. I'm using her stock list to even out the demand."
"Have you asked Clit about this?"
"Nah, why? She wouldn't understand. She's a good
bra-maker, but she doesn't know about stuff like this." The lights flickered again.
Another girl, somewhere, would be needing a different sized bra. "I could change
every woman in the world, you know. Make them all huge breasted, but not quite as big as
Michaela."
What had happened to my bestest friend? She was crazed with
power.
"You can't change the whole world, Cee!"
"I'm not, not yet. It seems to have a special thingie
so it can work with St Cat's only. 230 girls and all the staff, teachers and everything,
the cooks, Nurse, Jeremy, all that. It's quite convenient, actually. It saves an awful lot
of time. When I make a change, like ... this ..." the lights flickered again
"... it rewrites history, but not a lot. That one was a First Form girl. You remember
her, skinny little thing. I've given her a temporary sixty-inch bust to save Clit having
to order any more 26-inch A-cup bras. It will mean a bit of a cultural change in her
village, to make all the inhabitants recognise her as that skinny little thing with the
tits out to here. Nothing drastic: it will mean a few houses being razed to the ground for
the railway to be built in 1868. All small stuff. If it had been truly global, instead of
localised to St Cat's, we might have ended up without railways having been invented at
all. You see what I mean by convenient?"
"I'll wake Staze and take her up to bed, poor soul.
I'll see you later, love."
"Yeah, later!"
As I trudged up the corridor with Anastasia clinging
sleepily to my arm, a little yelp of triumph sounded behind us, and the lights dimmed
again.
Smegs yelled into the phone. "Of course I haven't paid for it, you haven't sent it
yet. You promised delivery last Tuesday, and that was a week late."
The lights flickered and the phone went dead. She thumped it
down on the bedside table and flung herself on to the bed. "Aaaargh! Who are you?"
An amiable faced stared up at her from the bed: an
attractive young woman of slightly Oriental appearance. "Eeeek!" Smegs
scrambled up from the bed and shot away to the door. The phone rang.
"Where? It's at the station, when? NOW? But it
can't be. It's ..."
The lights flickered again. Smegs peered between her fingers
at the empty bed. "Er, hello? Yes, thanks. I'll come over and collect it right
away." She put the phone down gently and withdrew her hand slowly, not wishing to
startle it into ringing again. The bed remained steadfastly empty. Smegs opened the
wardrobe and snatched her shoes, sat on the bed and put them on. The lights flickered
again as she shot out of the room and slammed the door shut behind her.
Downstairs, three trawlermen were manhandling a grand piano
out of the corridor and down the steps. Strange, Smegs thought, why were they wearing wet
weather gear on a lovely night like this.
She tore helter-skelter down the steps and got into her car,
while the lights flickered again. Fortunately for Smegs's sanity, she didn't see them.
Upstairs, in Smegs's room, the wardrobe door creaked open, and an inert heavy body flopped
out to lie full length on the floor.
Jeremy returned the wheelbarrow to the barrow-park, and stood it up on its wheel
against the wall. As he did so, something heavy slid down and fell out on to the dark
floor. He had to get down on hands and knees and feel between the wheels of the parked
barrows. He came up with something that felt like a heavy book, or a small case.
"It's Clit's computer," he said wonderingly.
"How did that get in the barrow?" It must have become caught up in the padded
lining, he decided. Probably the last time this barrow had been used, before Easter. He
tucked it under his arm and set off back to his shed, making a detour to call in at the
bra making facility.
There was no answer to his knock, but the door was open, so
he went in.
"Well, Clit'll be pleased to get this back, at least.
My good turn for the day!"
Jeremy toyed with the idea of leaving a note for Clit, but
he couldn't find a pen. Never mind, he thought, he would just be an anonymous benefactor.
He felt quite virtuous as he closed the door behind him. Time for dinner.
Clit returned from the pub, only slightly the worse for drink. She fumbled for the
light switch, then turned to look round the familiar surroundings. The filing cabinet was
securely locked, reminding her with a shuddering chill of the episode with the haunted
laptop.
From her jacket pocket, she produced two icy bottles of beer
and placed them on the workbench. Next to the computer.
The computer?
The computer!
"She's sleeping now. I gave her a sedative."
"Will she be all right, Nurse?" Clit looked
peaceful enough now, not like she had been an hour ago when she had run screaming round
and round the fountain in the quadrangle. Only after she had sunk, exhausted, to the
ground had Jeremy been able to pick her up and carry her limp body down to the sick bay.
"We'll have to see. She'll sleep until morning. Come
round and see her then. Poor thing. Jeremy said she was gibbering. Something about her
lapdog."
"I didn't know Clit had a dog."
"Maybe when she was a kid. They sometimes go back to
their childhood. When they were happy and secure. She said something else. About it having
been all fields, as far as you could see. All gone, she said."
"Poor love." Her clothes were over the back of the
chair. They smelled of tobacco smoke. "Had she been down to the pub? Was she just
pissed, do you think?"
"Jeremy realised she'd been out, probably to the pub,
so he called Flossie. She said she'd had a couple of drinks and took a couple of bottles
out with her. So she hadn't had much to drink. Not enough to make her go over the edge
like this. Something's given her a nasty shock. Jeremy's a lovely bloke, Miss Gruntworthy.
So kind and considerate. He was nearly in tears when he carried Miss Clit in here. He
deserves a good woman. I think he knew one once, but let her get away."
"Poor Jeremy!"
I stumbled out into the cool night. Poor Clit. Poor Jeremy.
Poor Chauntaille.
Corinne still wasn't in the bedroom. The lights were still flickering from time to
time. What was she doing down there? She had been at it long enough now to have rewritten
the history of every girl at St Cat's three times over. It was simply not good enough.
"It's simply not good enough, Cee!"
"What's the matter, love?" She looked up at me a
little impatiently. "I said I'd be up in half an hour."
"Two hours ago, yes."
"Gosh, is that the time? Okay, I'll finish up now. Go
and put the kettle on, I'll be up in a few minutes."
"Clit's in the hospital, you realise?"
"Hospital? What is it?"
I forbore from quoting from Airplane. "Jeremy
found her running round and round the fountain, screaming. Something about a lapdog."
"Laptop."
"What?"
"She calls her computer a lapdog. Surely you've
noticed? Probably she's lost some data. Serves her right for not saving more often."
"Mature women don't run screaming round fountains
because they've lost a few files, Cee. I think she's going mad. Or she's already gone. All
these grand pianos and girls getting pregnant before her eyes. You could see she was under
stress. I'm worried about her. You've got to stop all this until she's better. We don't
know what it's doing to poor Clit."
"Okay!" Corinne agreed airily. "I've finished
anyway. All the girls are done, and Clit will find she can fit them all with bras from
stock. She ought to be grateful to me, not rushing around screaming her head off. She's
far too excitable. Little dark-haired women always are."
This supremely breathtaking generalisation left me gasping.
"You've changed all the girls?"
"Near enough. Some of them are bigger, a few are
smaller. I've made a few girls pregnant to use up a small surplus of nursing bras in
various sizes. Pregnancy always puts a heavy load on the system. One of them took nearly
ten seconds to complete. You can imagine how much upheaval that meant. I daren't look at
the records to see what changes it made!"
"Who was it?"
"God knows. Let's see ... hmmm. Here we are. Cassandra
Uddamore."
"Cassandra? She's Head Girl. You've made her pregnant?
Why?"
"Clit had two spare nursing bras in the biggest
possible size, and nobody to wear them. I made Cassandra eight months pregnant so she'd
start lactating and use them up. Simple!"
"Cee! Cassandra's been giving milk for two years! She's
giving more than a diary shorthorn."
"I'm not surprised. Her breasts are bigger than a cow's
udders."
"But you've made her pregnant. The poor girl's no age
at all!"
Corinne had gone red. "I can change her back, I
suppose. In the morning."
"Not in the morning. NOW!"
"It's too late. It's bedtime."
"Now, Cee!"
She looked as if she was going to argue, but then she
changed her mind. She turned back to the keyboard, and typed something.
"You're sure of this?" she said.
"Yes. Absolutely."
"It's risky."
"DO IT!"
She did it. The lights dimmed. From somewhere out in the
woods came a small explosion, and the windows shook.
"I told you it would be risky. I think we just
demolished Cassandra's Wendy House."
It had been a strained night. I wasn't at all happy with Corinne. She had turned into
somebody else entirely, and I didn't think I liked her very much. If that's what power
does to people, I don't ever want any of it.
I got up and dressed. It was cool and fresh in the woods,
the sun just breaking through, although no birds sang. It was eerily quiet.
Cassandra's little Wendy House was flattened.
I knew it was only a house, and we could have it rebuilt:
there was no harm done, Cassandra herself was all right. Probably. I picked through the
pile of debris and kicked at the scraps of plasterboard that had been the walls. The
corner of a picture frame appeared, and I bent to clear the dust and dirt from the cracked
glass. It was the group photograph of the girls at Baps's Girl Dairy, back in Fillamore
Deepleigh. I recognised the laughing faces and bulging breasts of the girls.
Cassandra's Scarlet Sash, the symbol of her position as Head
Girl of St Cat's, was tied to the picture frame. Two things which had brought such pride
to poor Cassandra: to be the Dairy Queen of Fillamore Deepleigh, to be Head Girl of St
Cat's.
A tear fell into the dust on the picture glass, and trickled
across it like a rolled-up woodlouse. I picked up the picture and held it to my bosom.
Turning, I crunched through the remains of Cassandra's crockery and belongings, back to
the path that led to the school. I didn't look back. I would never look at Cassandra's
Wendy House again. From now on, I would go the long way round to avoid going anywhere near
it.
Nurse opened the door as I approached the sick bay.
"How is she?"
"She's gone."
"Gone? Oh, no! Nurse!"
I flung myself into Nurse's arms and crushed my bosom
against hers.
"Ouch," she said, disentangling herself. She
brushed the dirt and dust from the bodice of her uniform where her upside-down nurse's
watch dangled. "What's that?" she said, pointing to the picture frame.
"Cassandra's group photo. Corinne blew up her Wendy
House. She wasn't in it at the time." I took a deep breath. "How about Miss
Clitress? Did she go ... quickly?"
Nurse considered that for a while. "Fairly quickly,
yes."
"It was painless, then? She didn't suffer?"
"Not a lot. She bumped her elbow on the way out. I
suppose she was in a bit of a hurry to get away."
"Well, she wouldn't have felt it," I sighed.
"It could be a bit painful for a while," said
Nurse professionally. "Especially if she does anything like sitting at a sewing
machine for long periods."
"Or playing the harp ..."
"Does she play the harp? I knew Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn
Owen did, but I never thought of Miss Clitress as the harp-playing type."
"They'll be teaching her, where she's gone." A
thought occurred to me. "I imagine so, anyway. She was a good soul, wasn't she?"
I wiped a tear from my eye, using the corner of Nurse's apron. "I suppose I'll be
seeing her soon enough ..."
"Soon enough, yes," said Nurse. "When you do,
could you tell her this bra's really cutting into me? It's the underwire. If she can find
the time, I'd like to try for a softer cup next time."
"I don't think she'll be able to do much about that,
Nurse." I said sorrowfully. "Delivery could be a problem."
"Rubbish!" Nurse sniffed. "I know she doesn't
like coming down to sick bay, but she could give it to one of the girls to bring down.
Girls are always dropping in for bits and pieces for their front bottoms. Right, be sure
and tell her, Shan. I know you. You'd forget your head if it wasn't screwed on. I'm a 36D.
Now I've got to change this bloody apron where you've cried all over it. It was clean on
this morning, too."
She picked up a bottle of girl-milk from the doorstep and
disappeared inside, slamming the door after her. The caring professions get so hardened to
tragedy, I always find.
I carefully put the cracked picture on my dressing table and straightened the dusty
Scarlet Sash. Corinne was leafing through one of her thick stacks of paper. She looked up
at me curiously. "Hi."
"Oh, Cee. I don't know what to say. It's Clit."
"She said she had a message for you." Corinne
continued shuffling paper, making occasional strokes with one of those bright yellow
highlighter pens.
"She spoke to you?" My voice sounded like a
high-pitched squeak.
"Yes, while you were out. She just sort of
appeared."
"You mean like a vision? Oh, poor Clit! What did she
say? Is she happy?"
"When did you ever see Clit happy? I wrote it down.
Yes, here it is. She says she's sorry, and she'll explain everything when she sees you. In
a couple of days."
"Aaaargh!?"
"She's been called away to visit her old mother."
I subsided on to the bed and wept bitter tears into my
pillow.
"I'm not ready to go yet, Cee. I'm too young to
go."
"Of course, Shannie. You just stay here, then."
She tucked her pen into her cleavage — a habit she had picked up from some of the
more well-endowed Junior girls — and scratched herself in a distracted manner. She
had to wiggle her hand down into her massive cleavage to get to the site of her itch.
Personally, I would have gone for a sideways approach, beneath the breasts, but to each
her own. She had evidently found it, because she wriggled gently and closed her eyes for a
few moments.
In happier times, I would have joined her, but not with Clit
so recently gone ahead of us. I might never wank again.
Corinne brought out her hand and surreptitiously wiped her
fingers while pretending to blow her nose. "I'm just checking out the records before
I pass over the benchmark role to Michaela. I don't think I've forgotten anything. I
thought I'd bring my bust right down. Maybe seventy, sixty inches. What do you
think?"
She stood up, put her papers down and surveyed herself in
the mirror, stretching her sweat-shirt down tight to try and see how she would look. It
didn't really work all that well. There was still far too much of her to flatten it out
just like that.
"Hmmm, maybe not," she said. "Maybe I'll just
try eighty or so, for a start. I can always make them smaller later if I like it. Now
look," she picked up a notebook and waved it at me. "I've got Cassandra down to
a reasonable size, but she's still vast. Since you insist she has to be able to give milk,
and she is practically a bloody Amazon, it means Michaela has to be so outrageously
huge-breasted, she's hardly going to be able to stand up."
"Oh, so it's my fault?"
"I was making Cassandra pregnant, remember. She'd have
had her baby and her boobs would have gone, the way some women do. But no, you said she
needs to be a dairy cow. She's over six feet and built like a brick shit-house, and YOU
want a pair of four-foot diameter udders on her. My poor little sister is four feet six.
How is she going to manage with a two-hundred-and-something inch bust? And God knows how
much bigger she'll get when the milk comes in. You should try considering the consequences
of some of your fancy little ideas, Shannie!"
"My ideas? You're the one who's trying to change
the world."
"You're the one who's behaving like a hysterical
bitch, Shan!"
That was it. I can only stand so much in one morning. It
wasn't even ten o 'clock yet.
"Come in, Miss!"
"How did you know it was me, Staze?"
"I heard your door slam, then I recognised your
footsteps coming upstairs. Have you had a row with Miss Meadowlark?"
"Could you hear us?"
"No, but I'd have got mad with her if I had to live in
the same room. She's changed so much since I taught her how to work that system. She's a
different person. Come here, Miss. Don't cry!"
It was too late to tell me that. I went over and buried my
face in Anastasia's matronly T-shirt-straining bosom. Well, bigger than matronly, of
course. More like a pair of hot air balloons, but softer. She wrapped her arms around me
as if I was a baby.
Baby?
"You're not pregnant any more, darling!" I prodded
her flat belly gently.
"Ouch! No, I got fed up with it, so I changed myself
back. Miss Meadowlark noticed it last night and made me pregnant again. Something to do
with maternity bra stocks."
"But wait a minute. How can ... how did you know? If
she made you pregnant again, you'd think you had always been that way?"
"Normally, yes. But I figured she was going to do
something to me, so I wrote a little routine to make the computer tell me everything that
is done to me while I am unprotected. It checks my pattern every twenty minutes, and as
soon as it detects an unprotect command, it activates the routine. Then as soon as Miss
Meadowlark changes me, the computer waits until she's finished, and it sends a list of the
changes to me up here."
"You've got a terminal up here now? You could work from
here without going to the lab?"
"It's very slow, Miss. It's one of the old ones that
were thrown out last year. Mr Jeremy got it for me. He was going to take it home to play
games on it, but he said I could have it. He's really sweet, Miss."
"I know!" I started crying into her bosom again.
She rocked me gently, and her giant billowy breasts softly
engulfed my face. Thoughtfully, she put a hand into her cleavage and cleared a pathway so
I could breathe. She smelled warm and musky. I was starting to get wet.
"Anyway. The computer sends me this message. Here's
what it sent me last night, look."
I looked incomprehendingly at the gibberish.
"It means she made me pregnant again. 'Revert,' it says
down there. It was weird, looking at the screen. Miss Meadowlark doesn't know I've got a
computer up here, you see, so she hasn't bothered changing the parameter that says I enjoy
playing with computers. If she did, I wouldn't get the message, 'cos I wouldn't be playing
with this one. But she's obsessed with breasts, so that's all she's changing. Anyway, it
feels strange, because I know nothing's happened to me, but the computer is telling me
something has!"
"Gosh, Staze!" I felt as if I was in the presence
of a vast intellect. I felt the same with Corinne, but whereas Corinne's appeared to be
all directed toward ruling the world and playing at God, Anastasia's was somehow
comforting and benevolent. "I love you, Staze!" I found myself saying.
Anastasia blushed prettily. "I love you, Miss!
Anyway, now I know it works, all I have to do is to change the routine so that it waits
until Miss Meadowlark has stopped messing about with my pattern, then it will revert me to
what I was beforehand. Simple!"
It even sounded simple to me. "How about all the other
girls she's changed?"
"I can only do that from the main lab machine, Miss.
This one is only a very slow machine, and a slow link to the lab." She pointed to a
snaking length of cable that went to the internal phone socket. "I'd really like to
get a big powerful computer up here, and a wide band link. I'd thought of having a word
with Miss Clit. She's got something in her workshop that ought to do it."
Poor Clit. Not any more. "She's no longer with us,
darling," I said, choking on the words.
"I know. She's with her old mother. Very sad, Miss. But
she'll be in touch, she said. I'll ask her about it then."
Such faith, young girls have. Such blind, unquestioning
faith. I clung tighter to her, then a thought occurred to me.
"Staze?"
"Yes, Miss?"
"If you had a powerful computer, and a link like you
say Miss Clit has ... had. Could you make it reverse all the changes that Miss Meadowlark
makes? As soon as she logs off and goes to bed, say?"
"Yes, Miss. Easy. Not the changes she's made already,
of course ..."
"Oh, no, of course ..."
"But any she made from now on. It would need a change
to my little routine, but now I know it works in theory, I could soon get it going. Why,
do you know anyone who could give me a machine like that?"
"I do know someone who has no further need of one, yes
..."
THE FAMILIAR room still smelled of Clit. I felt a lump in my throat as I went in,
followed by Anastasia.
Clit had tidied up before she had gone, as if she had know
the end was nigh. The top of the workbench was clear. There was a crumpled pile of soft
stretchy satin at one end, but everything else had been put away.
"It must be here somewhere, Staze."
"Maybe she took it with her, Miss."
Wordlessly, I squeezed the child's little hand.
"I wonder where she keeps the keys to that filing
cabinet?"
Anastasia wandered off, poking around. She opened a desk
drawer and exclaimed happily. "Hey, Miss. Look!"
She came over, rattling a wooden cigar box. A crudely
lettered stick-on label proclaimed, 'Filing Cabinet — Spare Keys'.
One of them was certainly the padlock. I unlocked it, and
withdrew the heavy steel bar. Another smaller key fitted the lock in the cabinet itself.
"I wonder why she bothered locking it twice, Miss.
You'd never get in unless you took that great big bar off first."
"We'll never know, dear." The top drawer was full
of drawings and sketches. I pulled them out and dropped them in a pile on the bench.
Anastasia gasped at some of the drawings.
"Fuck ME, Miss! Look at the size of these TITS!"
Clit certainly seemed to have an obsession with the larger
female breast. One or two of those bra designs were obscenely huge. There was even one
with wheels and an elaborate steering mechanism operated by flexible cables and a steering
tiller protruding from the cleavage.
The second drawer was full of boring looking files, accounts
and stuff. And one or two Polaroids of St Cat's girls without any clothes on. Pretty
routine stuff.
The third yielded what we wanted. Clit's laptop lay in a
nest of papers.
"Eureka, Staze!"
"Yes, Miss!"
We hugged each other, our tongues questing deeper and yet
deeper into each other's mouths. I cupped her taut little buttocks and she humped herself
against me like a randy dog.
"Oh, woo-woo-woo-woo, Miss," she said
conversationally. "Thirty-one!"
I held her tight until she stopped counting, way up in the
high forties, then lowered her into a convenient armchair to recover her breath and
composure. The laptop had a bundle of cables attached to it, and I stood helplessly
wondering where they went.
Anastasia got up and took them from me, and bent to plug
them into various sockets beneath the bench. I rather wished she hadn't done that.
"Woo-woo-woo," I said indistinctly from the depths
of her steaming loins.
Mercifully, Anastasia always did have a clear sense of
priorities.
The quadrangle clock struck twelve. I lay there on my back, counting the unnecessarily
loud strokes. It sounded as if it was going to go on forever. In my half-waking state, it
became Clit's funeral bell tolling. Then it stopped, and I raised my head.
Anastasia had wiped up most of the mess from the floor and
the workbench. She had stood some of the furniture on its feet again and was sitting in
the armchair with her legs spread, one over each arm. I closed my eyes rather than look
into her. I swear I could see right into her womb from down there on the floor.
"Hi, Miss!" She sounded incredibly bright and
cheerful. I was totally knackered.
"Hello."
"You've been out for an hour. Thanks, Miss. It was my
best for ages. I'm just drying out ..." she indicated her revealing pose without a
hint of apology. I noticed the laptop for the first time. It was in her lap, where you
might expect, and she was typing furiously.
"Does it work?"
"Does it ever, Miss! It's tremendously fast. It's loads
quicker than the one down in the lab. She must have tons of memory in here. I can do
everything I wanted to, and lots more. We can even overrule some of Miss Meadowlark's
changes from last night, as well as keeping up with the new ones she makes today."
"Today? I thought she said she'd finished last
night."
"She's back in the lab now. I've been watching
everything she's done. She's messing about with Cassandra at the moment. It must be making
her mad, Miss. Every time she changes something, I change it back again. I can read all
the commands she types in, and she's started swearing at it now."
Anastasia gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. She went
bright red, right down into the neck of her T-shirt and down the slopes of her breasts.
"Gosh, Miss. Miss Meadowlark knows some really filthy words! I daren't let you see
them." And she pressed the laptop against herself. I tried to prise it out of her
cleavage, but it was far too deep and I had to give up the attempt. I was getting sopping
wet again. Correction, I had just dumped another pint on the floor. Wallop!
"Never mind that, Miss. The cats will lap it up later.
What about Cassandra, Miss? Should we let Miss Meadowlark do what she likes with
her?"
"Has she made her pregnant again?"
"No, Cassie's just coming up for her period. In another
day's time. Her boobs are full and quite painful. What's up, Miss? Are you feeling all
right?"
"Yes! Never felt better. But I've just had an idea
...!"
"Not working in the lab, Cee?" I enquired brightly. Anastasia had crammed her
hankie into her mouth. Her eyes were streaming behind her glasses. I shook my head at her,
and she backed away, round the corner of the door.
Corinne held her head in one hand and her stomach with the
other. Then she changed hands and tried it that way. "Hmph!" she said rudely.
"What's the matter, love?" I crouched beside her
chair — with a distinctly audible squelch -and looked into those big blue eyes.
She turned her head away. "Oh, fuck it!" she
moaned.
"Is it getting near that time again, dear heart?"
"Do me a favour and bog off, Shan. Leave me alone. I
want to die."
Very poor taste with Clit not yet in her grave.
"Can I get you anything? Something for your
headache?"
"I haven't got a headache," Corinne insisted, and
clutched at her temples with both hands. "Go away."
"Let me make you better," I leaned her forward in
her chair and fussed with her cushions. "There, how's that?"
"Lousy. You're just doing it on purpose, just to annoy
me."
"I just want to make you more comfortable because I
love you, Cee! Let me make you some coffee. Tea? Chicken soup?"
"Stop nannying me, Shan!"
"Are you warm enough? Too hot? I could open a window.
Would you like that? How about your book? Do you want the telly on? You don't want to read
those nasty printouts ..." I took the pile of paper from beside her chair and tossed
them into the corner like an exploding accordion. "Do you feel worse than usual?
Perhaps Nurse can give you something for it. You don't always get as bad as this, do you?
Any idea why you get it so bad? I don't. Nor does Staze."
"I just do, that's all!"
"I'll go and see Nurse. She can give you some tablets
or something." I got up, with another squelch, and scrubbed at the moist patch on the
carpet with the toe of my shoe.
"I don't want any tablets from Nurse, or anybody. FUCK
OFF!"
"All right, I fucking will, if that's the way you want
it. You ungrateful bitch. I was only trying to be helpful. You can get your own chicken
soup."
And I stalked off to the doorway where Anastasia was
convulsed, listening from the corridor. As I closed the door softly, we heard Corinne's
despairing wail.
"Shannie, come back, love! I didn't mean it. I love
you. Shannieeeee!"
"How long is she going to be like that, Staze?"
"Long as you like, Miss! It's up to you. How long can
you stand it? You have to live with her."
"No I don't. I can move in with you until she gets over
it. If you'll have me."
"Oooh, Miss! We can have each other!"
We went up those stairs at a hundred miles an hour.
The quadrangle clock struck something late-ish.
"We can't really leave her like that, Staze, can
we?"
"Why not? The computer is looking after it. She'll stay
like that until we tell it to let her carry on as normal."
"Oh, we can't! It's no way to treat someone you
love."
"She should have thought of that, Miss. Let's just let
her suffer for another couple of days. She'll do anything you say by then. In fact, if you
really like, we can give her cramps, sleeplessness, headaches, diarrhoea, ingrowing
toenails, flat feet, tonsillitis, haemorrhoids ..."
Anastasia's catalogue looked like going on for another hour.
I was beginning to feel some symptoms myself.
"Let's just stick with the pre-menstrual tension,
Staze. For now."
"Okay, Miss," she said amiably. "What's it
like, Miss? I've never had it."
"Dunno, Staze," I grinned. "Nor have I!"
THE PHONE seemed to be ringing for ever. At last, someone picked it up.
"Fillamore Deepleigh Girl Diary, Baps speaking, how may
I help you?"
"Baps! It's you. It's Shan!"
"Shan? Bloody hell! Hi. How ya doing? Are you at home?
I'll come up and see you. We'll have a drink, later."
"No, I'm not home. We've got too much work on. I'm at
St Cat's."
"Glutton for punishment as usual. Or have you got a
girlfriend there?"
I thought of Corinne, then I thought of Anastasia.
"Not specially, no."
"Oooh, Shan! A boyfriend, then? Hey, Jeremy's not home
this week either. You dirty little buggers. I bet you're in bed with him now! Give him a
tickle for me. You know where."
I was beginning to feel uncomfortable.
"No, I don't."
"Go on. The backs of his knees. You'll need to turn him
over first. Put your hand between his legs and grab his balls. Gently!"
Was she watching us through the window?
"What's she saying?" Jeremy asked in a piercing
whisper. I shook my head, and he giggled and started stroking the underside of my right
breast.
"Stop it!" I hissed.
"Yes, stop it, Jeremy," Baps gurgled. "Give
her one, Jez!" God, I'd forgotten how crude Baps could be. These country girls were
all the same. I was one, I supposed.
"How's Cassandra?" I asked as casually as
possible.
"She's fine. Well, she was last time I saw her. Her
milk yield is up five days running since she came home. What do you feed her on at school?
She's miles bigger now we've got her back home for the holidays, anyway. You know that bra
she was wearing? There's about as much tit sticking out of the tops of the cups as I've
got in my entire bra, and you'll know from that, she's seriously bigger. Wooooh, a couple
of feet at least!"
"Oh, no!"
"What are you worried about, Shan? I thought you liked
big tits!"
I was thinking about poor Michaela. "Nothing," I
lied.
"Good. 'Cos at the rate our Cassie's growing, you'll
need to demolish her Wendy House and build her a brand new one. And get your Miss Clit to
make her the biggest bra she ever made in her life. With wheels...!"
At last I put the phone down and buried my face in Jeremy's
chest. He didn't know what was the matter with me, but he held me tight. It didn't feel as
soft and warm and comforting as when Anastasia did it, but it felt hard and warm and even
more comforting. And so safe and secure.
"Keep me safe. Love me, Jeremy," I sighed, and
felt him shudder all over. At least, I didn't tell him to protect me. If I'd used
that particular word, I'd have been the one doing all the shuddering.
I did my fair share of shuddering anyway. Michaela had been right. This sex thing was
everything they said it was. I was still a million miles from becoming a disgusting, horny
little slut like Michaela, but I would be perfectly happy to have Jeremy service me twenty
or thirty times a day for the rest of my life.
When I suggested it to him, round about four in the morning,
he didn't sound altogether keen, but he did summon up the sinews and give me a good
seeing-to for the next hour or so. Then he went to sleep. I'd heard this mentioned before;
that men had a tendency to turn over and fall asleep as soon as they had used your body,
but this was the first time it had happened to me. It took several minutes of pummelling
to wake him up again for a goodnight kiss. And then he wanted me again. Honestly, men are
absolute bastards.
Not my Jeremy, though.
He even woke me up with a cup of tea at seven o' clock, but
it went cold before we got a chance to drink it.
"Jeez, Miss! You look absolutely fucked!"
"I'm sorry, Anastasia."
"No, Miss, you look fantastic. All rosy and pink and
feminine. Was it nice? How many times did you do it?"
I blushed even more prettily. "It was nice, dear. Very
nice. Are you supposed to count? How can you count when it's sort of continuous?"
"Golly, Miss. Even Clark can't do it
continuously." She was hammering away at the keys of Clit's laptop, occasionally
glancing up at me to grin infectiously. I looked for a mirror in case I had a funny mask
on. There was a full-length one just inside the door.
"You should have mentioned my jeans, Anastasia. You
know I can't see them."
"It's all right, Miss. They'll soon dry out in this
weather. Is that what they call VPL? Visible Pussy Line?"
"Oh, most amusing. I love Second Form Humour
first thing in the mornings." I pulled my monster-sized T-shirt out of my jeans and
let it dangle down in front. It would hide the worst of it if anyone came in.
"She's at it again, Miss. Miss Meadowlark. She's still
working on Cassandra, for some reason. I've been reversing all her commands, but she seems
to be getting better at it, and she's started queuing up a stack of different commands to
change several parameters at the same time. I can't handle that so well, because I have to
dodge around to find them. I think she's doing it deliberately, which means she's getting
suspicious." Anastasia typed briskly, then paused as the lights flickered briefly.
"What was that?" I asked her.
"Nothing serious. She's working with half a dozen
Middle School girls, to keep me occupied, and occasionally throwing in a Cassandra command
to see if she can slip it through without me noticing. That one was just a couple of
pregnancies in the Fourth Form, and another girl who had a baby last week. She's given her
so much milk her mother has put an ad in the local newspaper offering the girl as a
wet-nurse."
"That's terrible! I would never have believed it
of Corinne."
"God, she's done worse than that! Last night, she
shrank Moggie!"
"Shrank Moggie? I remembered my position, and that of
Anastasia. "It's not Moggie, it's Miss Thunderbolt, to you, young lady!"
"All right, Miss. Don't you want to know how much she
shrank her?"
"It doesn't matter all that much to me," I
sniffed. "How much?"
"She's down to an E-cup. I wish I could see her. She's
always been big. It's strange seeing someone as old as Moggie having breasts as big as a
girl!" She giggled, and I hadn't the heart to chide her again.
"Keep an eye on Cassandra," I said. "Her big
sister says she's a couple of feet bigger than last week. It looks as if something's gone
wrong with her pattern."
"It's okay, Miss, that was me!"
"You?"
"I could see Miss Meadowlark making Cassandra smaller,
and I wondered if she was going to make her smaller so she could make Michaela the biggest
in the school."
"Well done, Staze!"
"Thanks, Miss." Anastasia blushed prettily.
"I'm working her out now. She's brilliant, but predictable. Since you told me about
her wanting to make Michaela Head Girl, I've been on the lookout for her to do something
like this. So I made Cassandra so big that if Michaela had a bigger bust than her, she'd
never be able to stand up without lifting tackle. So she can't change her yet."
"It's a bit risky, Staze. She might just say fuck it
and give Michaela a bigger pair than Cassandra."
"It's no problem, Miss. It doesn't really matter if
Michaela can't get out of bed without going through the floor. At least, as long as
Michaela's that big, I won't get any smaller."
"You?"
"Me," said Anastasia firmly. "No way am I
going to get smaller just because of that cow Mikki. Clark loves my titties the way they
are."
"But if you were changed, he'd never know."
"Yes he would, Miss. I've protected him. I don't want
her giving him a little winkle."
"She'd never do that, would she?"
"Wouldn't she? You wait 'til you see the breast boys
when they come back!" She said no more, but held up her hand with the little finger
extended, tiny, pink and drooping.
"She did that? To all twenty-four of them?"
"Twenty-three. I think she's got a favourite one
herself. Jamie. That dark-haired one. She's made his eighteen inches long and as thick as
her wrist." Anastasia shook her head and shuddered. "Okay for you, Miss, or
Pansy, but not for me! Is Miss Meadowlark as big as that?"
"Of course she's not ... and it's nothing to do with
you, Anastasia! The depth and breadth of Miss Meadowlark's pussy are no concern of
yours."
"I wasn't talking about her pussy, Miss," said
Anastasia, shocked, "I meant her wrist."
"I think you'd better just get on with what you're
doing, young lady."
"Yes, Miss," she sighed. The lights dimmed again
and Anastasia hit the cursor arrows on her keyboard, leaning over almost at right angles
to make her machine work faster. "Got ya," she exulted.
History, I decided, was in safe hands with this incredible
girl. I pottered away into the kitchen. "I suppose you wouldn't say no to beans on
toast?"
"Yes, please, Miss!"
I opened the window.
"Here you are, love. Leave the computer for a minute and eat something."
Anastasia put down the laptop, stood up and stretched. As
ever, it was a memorable sight. One tended to forget just how big some of these girls were
until they stretched like that. Her little hands reached out for the ceiling as she stood
on tiptoe, tottering slightly, her mammoth breasts swaying ponderously inside her army
fatigues. I had to admit, camouflage certainly did something for her. Then her glasses
fell off and she clutched at them. Everything went into wobbling motion, even as she
caught her specs and clamped them against her bosom.
I watched her as she ravenously shovelled the food into her
mouth. God, the appetite of her. Everything she ate must go straight to her tits. She had
almost finished, and had speared the last corner of toast to mop up the remains of the
sauce, when the lights flickered again.
Anastasia let out a cry and clutched frantically at the
laptop, her plate sliding off her lap and spinning on the floor like a top before it
finally settled in the corner. She stared at the screen, then at me, her face becoming
crimson. She looked at the screen again, and poked a finger at the keys. Then she looked
at me and burst into tears.
"Oh, Miss! I blew it!"
"What's the matter?"
"Can't you tell? Can't you feel it?"
"Feel what, child?"
"Your ... your ..."
"My what?"
"Your hips," she blurted at last.
"They're no bigger," I admired my svelte form in
the full length mirror. "They could stand being a bit heavier, with my bust being so
full these days. Is full the right word, Staze? Or would huge be better?"
"Full's all right, Miss. You're very full. Very, very
full. Not as full as me, but very, very full indeed, Miss. It's just your hips, Miss. And
your thighs. You mean, you don't remember how big they were?"
"They've never been any bigger than this. Like I said,
Staze, they're a bit too boyish for my taste. I'm sure Jeremy would like them a bit
more feminine ..."
"Jeremy ...?" Anastasia quickly typed something
and studied the screen. She shook her head sadly and pushed the machine away for a moment.
Then she seemed to have an inspiration and grabbed at it again. Her little face lit up
like a beacon. "I must make a phone call," she said, tapping in a number."
"Hello, Miss Mountains. Would you mind coming down to
the bra facility for a minute? There's someone I want you to see..." She listened for
a moment, then as she opened her mouth to say something else, the lights flickered again.
Anastasia glanced at the screen, did a double-take and gasped. "It's all right, Miss
Mountains. There's no need to come now. There wouldn't be any point." She laid the
phone down and held her head in her hands. "I think she's on to us, Miss! She's just
unprotected Miss Mountains."
I wished I knew what she was talking about. I mean, I knew
about protecting patterns and stuff. Not how to do it, but I knew what it meant. So why
was Anastasia so upset? What about my hips and thighs? What did it matter that Smegs had
suddenly been unprotected?
She couldn't tell me. Every time she tried to say something,
words failed her and she emitted a sound like the whirring of rusty wheels.
I tried making light conversation, while twirling before the
mirror. "How big do you think my hips ought to be, Staze? They're only 33 inches.
That's not nearly enough for a fully grown woman of five feet six tall. Especially with
such a full bust. Almost shamefully full. Shameful!"
"Oh, Miss!" She howled in frustration, tears
pouring down her cheeks and leaving big wet patches on her uniform jacket. "I don't
know what to do-oo-oo!"
I went over to her and pressed her face tight against my
scarlet leather skirt. For some reason, she was not comforted. She cried all the louder.
She even took her face away from my crotch for a moment, stared briefly at my skirt, then
buried her face again. I could smell the warm leather where her burning cheeks were
pressed against me.
At last, she became more calm. "Miss Meadowlark's on to
us, Miss," she sobbed. "She may not know where we are, or anything, but she
knows it's us. Or she knows it's me, anyway. That's why she changed your hips, Miss."
"She's what?" I asked quietly. "When are they
going to start changing?"
"They've changed, Miss. Believe me. Until ten minutes
ago, your bottom was enormous. It was shamefully huge. Shameful!"
"There's no need to be offensive, Anastasia."
"I'm not, Miss. You had a shamefully huge arse, and
Miss Meadowlark made it skinny, like it is now, to show me that she knows it's me she's up
against."
"You mean...?" Surely, she couldn't be serious
about this. Not my beautiful slender hips and thighs. "You mean, Corinne made me like
this? And I used to be fat and horrible?"
"Yes, Miss!"
"You rotten little liar."
She started crying again. A terrible thought occurred to me.
"What if she comes up here and does something to
us?"
"She won't, Miss. She doesn't need to. She can do
enough damage without moving from the IT lab. In fact, she daren't come up here. As soon
as she leaves her computer, she knows I'll undo everything she's done."
"Everything?" I looked down at my hips. Although I
was well aware that they'd always been pencil-slim, the trouble was that Anastasia thought
I had been gross. If I didn't keep an eye on her, she'd give me a shamefully huge bottom.
Shameful.
I was surrounded by mortal enemies. How did I get into this
ghastly situation?
Who could I turn to? Who always knows what to do?
Smegs!
"Stay here, Staze. There's a good girl. Keep doing what
you have to do. Don't let her make anyone explode. I'll be in Miss Mountains's room.
"COME IN, Skinny-arse."
"How did you know it was me?"
"Who else would it be? You've come up here to play with
Kia again. She's in the wardrobe. Her pump's in there, too."
Kia gazed up at me in gratitude as I dragged her out of the
wardrobe and attached the hose to her air valves. Smegs sat glumly on her bed. "That
skirt of yours is getting baggy. You must be losing even more weight round your bottom.
What do you look like? One of these American erotic dancers."
What a dreadful thing to say, even if it were true. "I
can't help it, Smegs. I've tried eating more, but it all goes straight to my tits."
Kia's soft, warm backside began to expand slowly as I operated the little hand-pump. I
stopped, and opened Smegs's top drawer.
"Oh, come on, Shan. Why can't you burst your own
clothes with that bloody doll? I won't have a stitch to my name at this rate."
"It's only old stuff, Smegs," I whined. "This
bra and pants, I mean, you could hardly wear these in a public place, could you?" I
threaded the frayed and crisp-crotched panties up Kia's shapely gams and settled them
nicely around most her intimate places. The bra was loose around the doll's breasts, but a
good fit otherwise. Excellent. "Which shirt can I have, Smegs, please?" I began
tossing things out of her wardrobe on to the floor. "Oooh, this one looks nice!"
I had to fight her off before I could do up all the
mother-of-pearl buttons, and fit a St Cat's tie around Kia's neck. She looked remarkably
like Rumiko, but then, to Rumiko, I probably looked a lot like Smegs.
A quick check-up all round, and it was time to start pumping
again. Smegs was trying not to watch, but her eyes were bright and eager; and kept darting
toward the steadily expanding doll. She seemed to want to say something.
She said it. "What about a skirt, Shan? Or some
trousers?"
"I thought you didn't want her to wear your
clothes?"
"Come on, Shan. Just a pair of slacks. I've got some
here. No, better still, she can wear these ..." and Smegs swiftly unbuckled her belt
and slipped her slacks off. "Put these on her, Shan."
"Magnolia's not her colour. And they're miles too
long," I objected, "and they smell of pussy."
"You've never complained before. I thought you liked
pussy."
"I do, it smells very nice, in its place."
"Come on, Shan," she whimpered urgently, her hand
clutching feverishly at her bulging crotch, "you can turn the legs up at the bottoms.
Quick, before she gets too big."
We got them on her eventually. They slid reluctantly up over
Kia's already well-rounded bum. Actually, Smegs's slacks did smell quite nice. Besides the
pussy there was a hint of some haunting fragrance. Apples, or something. I was almost
tempted to forsake Kia and sample the real thing. Smegs's rump was eminently chewable and
her breasts were like cannonballs. The temptation was strong. Very strong. Very strong
indeed.
"Give her a bit in her tits, Shan!" Smegs's voice
was husky.
"All right." I swapped the hose over to the other
valve and pumped busily away for a while. The shirt became more rounded, tauter. Radial
creases began to form around Kia's prominent nipples. "She's starting to get
rilly-rilly voluptuous, Smegs. I'll stop for a while."
I disconnected the hose and propped Kia up where we could
both sit and look at her. We clung to each other, trembling with anticipation, our hands
roaming freely in our quest for pleasure. Kia watched us inscrutably.
"Isn't she lovely," I breathed.
"Mm-hmm! Good enough to eat."
"Not yet. Be patient. We've got lots more to do
yet." We exchanged a lingeringly wet kiss and I attached the hose again. Kia's rump
began to fill out. Soon, it was stretching the material of Smegs's slacks to the bursting
point. There was a creaking noise and the top of the zipper slid down an inch or so.
"More in the boobs, Shan," Smegs moaned. "I
want to see those boobs rilly-rilly grow!"
After another five minutes of careful pumping, I stopped
again. Kia was replete. Her swollen breasts wobbled heavily and realistically, despite the
constraints of Smegs's overloaded bra. The shirt was tight as a drum. Daringly, I raised
the St Cat's tie and showed Smegs the gaps yawning between the buttons. I could get two
fingers in between each one, revealing the dull gleam of the pink latex within.
"Squeeze her fat breasts, Smegs! Feel how resilient and
warm and heavy they are. So full!" Smegs ran her long, powerful fingers over Kia's
tits, while I concentrated on the doll's plump and fragrant rear end. "I'm getting so
wet, Smegs!"
"So am I, Shan! Blow her up some more!"
Her suggestion was so arousing, I almost came at that
instant. My voice was little more than a squeak. "Which end?"
"Both ends. Pump them up in turn."
"How many pumps each?"
"Twenty each end!"
"Twenty pumps, Smegs? How big, darling? How long shall
I go on?"
"Until her clothes split, Shan. Don't dare stop until
she comes bursting out of her shirt and explodes out of her too-tight bra and her
pussy-stinking slacks and her smelly crunchy-crotched pantieeeees ...!"
"Don't come yet, love! Wait for Kia!" I pumped
furiously. A button let go, followed quickly by another and a third. Creamy breast came
piling out of the gap. I transferred the hose to her bottom half and we watched transfixed
as the zipper ripped itself apart, allowing the crotch piece of Kia's panties to loom
large. Yes, crunchy was the right word.
Shuddering, Smegs crawled to the edge of the bed and opened
the drawer of her dressing table. "Measure her, Shan," she mewed, tossing the
tape measure to me. I caught it and draped it around Kia's straining shirt. Smegs was
panting heavily. "How big is she? How BIG?"
"Ooooh, quite big, Smegs. Bigger than yesterday."
"How much bigger?" Smegs wiped a trace of
dribble from her lips with the back of her hand.
"A couple of inches, at least. Seventy-two,
seventy-four?"
Smegs made a low, gurgling groan in her throat. "Do her
bum, Shan!"
"What about her waist, first?" I said,
deliberately delaying the moment. Kia was twenty-three inches round the waist, as ever,
but I decided Smegs deserved a treat. "Twenty-two."
"Twenty-two! Woo-oo-woowoo-wa-woo. Now do her
bum, Shan!"
Clumsily, I stretched the tape around Kia's swollen
buttocks. It slipped off once or twice. I wasn't doing it deliberately, I was all thumbs.
Smegs watched, flushed and bright-eyed, one hand working desperately at her crotch.
"Gosh!" I said involuntarily, when the tape was finally in position.
"Bloody Hell, Megan!"
"What's it SAY?"
"Forty-four! Isn't she huge!"
I ran my hands across the broad expanse of Kia's rump, where
she stretched Smegs's pants far beyond their intended limits. Smegs's free hand roamed
across the doll's bulging right breast, fondling the peak of its nipple.
"She's so warm, Megan! Keep squeezing her. Go on, do
it, milk your little baby dolly!" I redoubled my efforts down below as Smegs took
Kia's magnificent breasts in both hands. We concentrated hard on our pleasurable work.
"Any minute now, Shan"
"Here she comes!" We sat back and watched it
happen.
With a soft sighing moan, Kia's breasts began almost to
throb with the pressure, and her great swollen nipples began gently to leak. Around each
nipple, a wet patch spread rapidly: a couple of inches across, four, six, ten, a foot.
The front of her pants showed a dark, wet area, spreading
furiously beneath and between her legs. Smegs and I watched, spellbound, as Kia's let-down
coursed through her lovely body. Her fluids gushed from her. Smegs was tearing at Kia's
shirt. I could hear the material ripping as she flung aside the soppingly milk-drenched
cotton and started in on the threadbare bra. The room echoed to the frenetic sucking of
Smegs's nursing on the helpless doll, while I buried my face in Kia's pungent snatch,
sundering the groin of my friend's slacks to lap at Kia's foaming dollhood.
We drank our fill, and finally lay back, dewy-eyed, satiated
and quaking; utterly, utterly horny. Wordlessly, we reached for each other. My tongue
probed between Smegs's lips, while a yard lower down, hers did the same to mine. It was
one of those occasions when one pair of hands each was nowhere near enough.
I was aware of the lights flickering, but this was too
urgent. We were so desperately horny. "My darling, Megan!"
"Chauntaille!"
Days, weeks, months passed as we drank from each other's
furry cups of ecstasy, suckled, tasted, squeezed, caressed and loved each other beyond
distraction.
"Oooh, Shan! My breasts feel as if they are going to
explode!"
At any other time, I might have flung myself behind the
chest of drawers. This time, I would happily have clung to my lover while she blew us both
to smithereens. Kia looked at us fondly as we sat back on the bed, and just looked at each
other, touching occasionally with burning hot fingertips. And giggling. Smegs doesn't
giggle. She just doesn't. She is not a giggler. But she giggled now. I wiped a trickle of
spit off her chin and looked her full in the face. There was a gleam of sweat on her brow,
her bare shoulders, the peaks of her incredible breasts.
"Your breasts certainly look much fuller, Megan."
"Do they? Do they feel fuller?"
"They feel fantastic. As full and warm and plump as
Kia's."
"Woo-woo-woo ...!"
They were, too. And something I had never noticed before.
Smegs was gloriously fit and powerful, tanned and muscular. There were the faintest of
tan-lines dipping into the deep cleavage between her tautly swollen watermelons. But
— and this was something else I had never noticed before — her areolae were
unbelievably puffy.
"Your moons are unbelievably puffy, Megan!" I
informed her. "They are just like a First Former's."
She sat up straight and narrowed her eyes. "Which
one?"
"Both, my love. You are amazingly symmetrical."
"Not which moon, dear. Which First Former?"
"Any of them. You know what First Formers' moons are
like. They sort of stick out, like an extra pair of breasts on top of their real breasts.
They start to curve in, then they like change their mind and sort of curve back out
again."
"But mine are bigger than a First Former's."
"They're bigger than most First Formers, yes. Smaller
than Toots's, and Cassandra's, of course, and half a dozen of the others, perhaps, but
it's not the size, it's the shape of them. I'd never noticed before." My lips
wouldn't open wide enough to take one of her areolae into my mouth. Fortunately, my love
tunnel is much bigger than my mouth. Half of Smegs's right breast slipped inside without
really trying. She moaned and bucked and filled the palm of my hand with something warm
and wet.
"I love you, Megan!"
"I love you, Shan!"
Then the lights flickered again. We sat up and looked at
each other with deepest longing.
"Oh, shit! Shit, shit shit! Smegs! I've just
remembered why I came up to your room!"
Smegs stared at me without understanding. I had dialled the number of the bra facility,
but the phone was busy. Now, I turned back to look at Smegs again. She had got off the bed
to prowl around the room. Watching her, my mouth fell open in admiration.
I looked up to my two dearest girlfriends. I looked up to
Smegs because she was six feet tall. Corinne was different. She was small, soft and
vulnerable. She made me want to cuddle her and protect her. At the same time, she was so
wonderfully capable, and light-years ahead of me intellectually, that I would often flood
my panties just sitting and watching her think.
But Smegs was six feet tall, powerful, long-legged and
rangy, capable in her own take-it-or-leave-it fashion. She always knew what to do. Not
always right, but always decisive. She was grumpy, miserable, rude and usually very
smelly. And I loved her so much it physically hurt.
Now, while I had been busy with the phone, trying to get
through to Anastasia, Smegs had been decisive about getting dressed. I stared at her. How
had she done that so quickly?
Smegs had put on a pink head-band thing to keep her fringe
out of her eyes. She was wearing a pink fleecy sweat-shirt and a pair of those slightly
baggy and not very flattering training pants. Her shirt was pushed out by the thrusting
spheres of her wonderfully firm breasts, but there was something different about her.
Usually, she seemed aware of her height, so she stood ... not stooping ... but not fully
erect, somehow. But now, her shoulders — shapely and massive shoulders — were
pulled back and her chest was stuck out proudly. It seemed to add a foot to her bust. Even
through the material of what was obviously one of poor Clit's most uncompromisingly
supportive sports bras, her nipples, and her First Former's moons, stuck out like the
proverbial chapel hatpegs.
"Smegs!" I said. "You look awesome!" I
do have a gift for understatement.
She sniffed impatiently. "I'm going for a run in the
woods," she snorted like a warhorse. She was pawing the ground, impatient to be off.
"You coming? No, of course not. How could you run with those things?"
She had reached the door and turned back to look at me. For
the first time, her pose brought her lower half into prominence. She was so much bigger.
No, that doesn't do it justice. Her hips, her haunches, everything, all those muscles I
don't know the fancy names of, were bulging massively, rippling with raw power.
"Smegs?" I pointed at her uselessly. She looked
down at herself and back at me.
"Close the door when you've finished in here," she
said, and strode out, like an immensely powerful cat. Or a warhorse. Whatever.
"She's changed Smegs. She did it while I was in there."
"I know, Miss. I watched her doing it. I thought of
changing her back, but there wasn't much point. I figured there was no real harm done.
She's only made her..." Anastasia consulted the screen "...a little bit bigger.
About five inches top and bottom. That's twelve and a half centimetres, Miss," she
added, in case I was one of these modern teachers.
"It's all right," I retorted, "I know about
inches, thanks."
"Does she look all right, Miss?"
"She looks pretty awesome, actually." Pull
yourself together, Chauntaille. "She went for a run."
"She does a lot of running, now, Miss. Even with a
sixty-five inch bust. She's mega firm so she doesn't bounce too much. That's a hundred and
sixty-five centimetres, by the way."
I ignored her loftily.
"How was Kia?" Anastasia grinned up at me
cheekily.
"What do you know about that?"
"Quite a lot." She tapped the computer and
giggled. "This thing tells me everything. Could I have a go with it some time?"
"A go with it? Kia's not a toy."
"You could have fooled me, Miss. You two were playing
with her for best part of an hour. I could hear you from right across the
quadrangle."
"We had the windows open in Smegs's room," I said
defensively. "Did you really hear much?"
"Hear it? I could practically smell it! The cats were
going crazy outside."
One of these days, Smegs and her pheromones were going to
land us all in serious trouble. It was time to steer the subject gently away from my
friend Megan.
"What's Miss Meadowlark doing now, Staze?"
"She's gone quiet. I'm afraid she might be thinking.
That's when she's at her most dangerous. I can try to keep up with her, but it's hard
work."
"Oh," I said, feeling hopelessly dim in the
presence of the Junior girl.
She looked up at me shyly, her glasses glinting. "How
was it, Miss?"
"How was what?"
"It. You and Miss Mountains?"
What did she mean? Actually, it had been quite amazing, I
realised. I had never felt so safe and warm and loving as I had in Smegs's embrace.
"It was all right."
"Is that all, Miss?"
I wriggled uncomfortably. "Well, no. It was amazing.
It's never been quite like that before."
"Good! I tried something special."
"You did? You mean, you had something to do with how it
felt? What did you do?"
"The computer, Miss. I'd been taking a look at my
parameters to see if I could find out why it felt so brilliant when I make love to Clark.
It's a bit advanced, Miss. All chemicals and temperatures and stuff like that. But I tried
changing some of your pattern while you were with Miss Mountains." Her eyes went all
dreamy. "I feel so safe and warm and loving when I'm with him."
"That's how I felt with Megan. Miss Mountains, I mean.
It was incredible! You mean you did all that?"
She nodded, biting her lower lip. "God, I'm getting
really horny, Miss. Could you find some fruit for me, please?"
I was forgetting. Anastasia might have been a superior
being, but she still had the same everyday needs and lusts as any schoolgirl.
"What? Oh, yes. Certainly. I'll fetch you some straight
away. Come here!"
Anastasia trundled across in her chair. I pulled her to her
feet and held her in my arms. I felt so loving and warm and safe. "I love you,
Miss," she sighed.
By the time I got back, the Uncontrollable Horniness had overtaken Anastasia in a
really big way. She still kept her grip on the computer, but her spare hand was all over
her breasts — or as much of them as she could reach — and occasionally diving
beneath them. She panted and gasped and moaned and thrashed about like a wild thing.
Somehow, her glasses stayed on.
"Oh, you poor thing!" I thrust a handful of grapes
between her parted lips, and peeled a banana for her dessert.
"Woooh, thanks, Miss. That was a bad one. Well, quite a
good one, actually." She finished the banana and I handed her another. She was
standing up and taking off her fatigue trousers.
"No, it's for eating, Staze."
"That's okay, Miss. I need to get these things off.
They're not nice to be near." She flung them as far as she could into the corner.
They hit the wall wetly and slid down to the floor. Then she hoisted her naked bottom on
to the work bench and picked up the laptop again. "She's still quiet, Miss. I wonder
what she's doing."
I began to have visions of Corinne creeping down to the bra
facility and overpowering us. Already, my imaginings had imbued her with the strength of
ten men. Well, she already had the mental ability of ten men. Only five women, but ten
men.
Anastasia was still cramming fruit into her mouth. She
seemed to live entirely on fresh fruit and beans on toast, these days. Perhaps that was
because it was all we ever gave her. Whatever it was, she looked well on it.
A thought struck me. "When I was with Miss Mountains,
you stopped trying to fight Miss Meadowlark with the computer? You stopped doing that just
so you could give me that wonderful feeling?"
"Yes, Miss. I thought you might enjoy it."
"Sweetie! You wonderful girl. You jeopardised your
chances of defeating Miss Meadowlark, just for my pleasure? Just for me?"
"I needed to prove that you can use all this power to
do some good, instead of all these terrible things Miss Meadowlark is doing. I'm afraid
she's building up for the big one, Miss. If she does that, I may not be able to resist
her."
"The big one? You mean ...?"
Anastasia nodded gravely. "Michaela. But knowing Miss
Meadowlark, it won't be just Michaela. She'll change a few other things at the same time
as a diversion. I'll have to watch her carefully when she starts. She will try to overload
me. Trust me, Miss. Whatever happens, I'll try and make the right decisions. The top
priority is to stop her making Michaela into the benchmark. If she can get away with doing
that, we'll have runaway breast expansion at the school, with all that entails."
I could think of worse things, but I said nothing.
"You do realise what it entails, don't you, Miss?"
I bit my lip. "No, Staze!" I admitted, blushing
deep red and flooding my panties at the same time.
"Oh, silly! You should have said I was getting too far
ahead of you. I always forget most teachers aren't very bright." She held up her
fingers and ticked them off one at a time. "If Miss Meadowlark can make Michaela the
benchmark, she will push her up to such a vast size, she can't move. Then she'll do the
rest of us. I'll be next. It's only Cassandra that's holding me back at the moment. I've
checked on some of the other big girls who are away on hols at the moment. I'm the
biggest, apart from Cassandra, so obviously, I'm being singled out."
"You mean, Toria? Sexy Amy? Pansy?"
"All down to the low hundreds. Miss Meadowlark has
immobilised Pansy by bringing the milk in every two hours. Gallons of it. By the time
she's fed the kids and pumped herself, she starts gushing all over again. No, Miss
Meadowlark has cleared the way. Once the battle starts, I'll be so big up front I won't be
able to reach the keyboard, and that will be the end of the road."
"Oh, Anastasia!"
"I told you she was clever, Miss. She's giving me a
Problem Bust."
"She's a devious little bitch," I spat viciously.
"Don't you still love her, Miss?"
"Yes. Despite everything. And I want her back. But
she's not the same person any more."
"That's right, Miss. She isn't the same person. She is
possessed, sort of. That's why we need to overcome her once and for all. It will need all
our brain-power, and determination, but we have Right on our side, and we will prevail in
the end. We have to, Miss. We stand alone against the Forces of Evil."
God, where do these girls learn such rubbish? She even said
Forces of Evil with capital letters. It was time to bring Anastasia down to earth.
"Please bring her back to me, Staze!"
Gently, she separated her breasts and prised my head out
from between them. She produced a lacy hankie from the neckline of her fatigues top.
Oddly, for a lacy hankie, it was in a mottled camouflage pattern. I supposed they were
standard issue to girl soldiers somewhere. She wiped my nose to get rid of her vaginal
juices.
"Come on, Miss. Chin up. Give me a nice big blow!"
"Sorry?"
"Blow your nose, Miss. Silly girl! We've got a lot to
do." The lights flickered. Anastasia quickly peeled a banana and crammed it into her
mouth sideways. She picked up the computer and studied the screen. She was actually
smiling, not an easy thing to do with a whole banana sideways in your mouth.
"Here we go, then, Miss. Let's go!"
MICHAELA POUTED and flounced around petulantly.
"Look at me, Sis. You never look at me!"
"Why should I need to look at you?" Corinne said,
her concentration on the monitor in front of her. "I already know what you look
like."
"No you don't. I bet you haven't seen me looking like
this"
Corinne was alerted. Michaela should not be aware of the
changes made to her. As far as she was concerned, she was hugely pregnant with twins, and
had been for almost nine months. She also had gigantic breasts, and she'd had those almost
as long as she could remember. So what did the girl mean, saying Corinne had never seen
her like this?
Corinne looked at her sister, and Michaela glowed with
triumph.
"I knew I'd make you look. My bikini doesn't fit me any
more, now I'm preggers!" She stood with her toes turned inwards and her thumb in her
mouth. Her other hand twined itself in her hair.
"It serves you right. Why do you want to wear a bikini
when you're nine months gone?"
"It's a warm day. I wanted to go for a swim in the
fountain to cool off. I have to wear something. I can't go skinny dipping now I'm so
huge." She smiled innocently at Corinne. "It's miles too small, Sis. What should
I dwoooo?" She pouted.
Corinne goggled at her. She was right. The bikini was miles
too small. The shiny black satiny material of the bra cups was cutting painfully into the
billowing material of Michaela's breasts, and the cups didn't even cover her areolae.
"You can't wear that. Go and change into something
decent."
"But it's the only swimsuit I've got!"
"Go and borrow one from someone else."
"Nobody's is big enough, apart from you, and my bum's
bigger than yours. And Anastasia hasn't got one. I looked in her cupboard. Can't you help
me make the straps longer? Please, Sis!"
Corinne sighed and revolved in her chair. "Oh, come on,
then!"
"Ooooh, thanks, Sis! I knew you would. I brought some
extra material and a pair of scissors. If you cut through the straps just there, and
there, you'll be able to tie some extra material in and make the bra fit. Well, not the
cups, but the rest of it." She handed the bundle of black ribbon-like material to
Corinne and stood patiently as Corinne hovered next to her with the scissors poised.
'Snip', they went, and Michaela held the cut ends together
while Corinne tied an extra nine inches of material into the body band at each side. They
did the same for the shoulder straps.
"Thanks, Sis! I feel better now." Quickly, she
unhooked the bra at the back and dropped it to the floor. Then she stepped out of the
pants. "Give me the scissors," she said, and Corinne watched, fascinated, as the
girl boldly cut a one-inch circle out of the tip of each bra cup. "That ought to do
it!" she said, then, with Corinne struck dumb by amazement, she carefully picked her
spot in the panties, and snipped a rather smaller hole in the front of those as well.
She pulled them on, loaded herself back into her bra, and
wriggled around until her nipples plopped out into the daylight, then hoisted the weight
of her breasts in both hands until she seemed satisfied with the fit.
'I am not going to ask,' Corinne said to herself. 'I do not
want to know!'
She was going to find out anyway.
Michaela wobbled over to the full length mirror just inside
the door, and began a series of lewd contortions, wriggling her bum from side to side
while doing something beneath her belly with both hands. Finally, she turned to Corinne,
who had subsided into her chair again.
"How's that?" she said.
"How's what? Oh, NO! Michaela, put it away at
once!"
"I can't. Once it's erect like that, it only makes me
hornier when it rubs against my panties. You've no idea what it feels like to let it stick
out like this."
Corinne realised that this was perfectly true. She had no
idea what it must feel like to have one's clitoris exposed in such a fashion. Michaela was
rather more qualified than she was in that respect. Hers was the biggest she had ever
seen.
"It's a biggie, isn't it?" said Michaela with
obvious pride. "It's even bigger than Miss Mountains's!"
"Is it really?" said Corinne thoughtfully, and
typed a few lines into the computer. The lights flickered. "That's that taken care
of, at least." She studied her sister's erect nubbin. "Is it always sticking out
like that?"
"Most of the time, yes. God, it feels amazing. You
ought to try it!"
'Perhaps it's just as well it's impossible,' Corinne mused,
then another thought occurred to her. She dismissed it at once.
"Why not, though," she said out loud.
"Why not what, Sis? You've started talking to yourself.
I knew that would happen if you spent too much time down here playing computers. You ought
to get out more. Anyway, thanks for the help with the bra. It's staying on quite well,
considering how big I am. I'm going for a swim. Later, right?"
Corinne yawned. "Later!"
I had to get away from the bra facility for a while, just to stretch my legs and get a
breath of fresh air. This was no reflection on Anastasia's diet — well, yes, it was,
partially — but the atmosphere of tension, of waiting for something to happen, was
getting to me.
Out in the quadrangle, a sense of proportion returned. The
world expanded to its proper size. Sitting in the fountain, beneath the cascading waters,
sat the grotesquely pregnant form of Michaela.
As I approached, she waded to the surrounding wall, thigh
deep in the water, the underside of her mound dipping beneath the rippled surface. She
scrambled out with all the poise and grace of a walrus.
"Hi, Miss!" She wrapped an enormous towel round
herself and sat on the wall in the spring sunshine, tossing her wet hair over her
shoulder.
"It's against school rules to bathe in the
fountain," I reminded her.
"I'm not surprised, Miss. Wow, it's colder than it
looks in there."
"That's not the reason, Michaela ..." My voice
tailed off. I had just noticed her cutaway bra cups. The nipples were sticking out by at
least the length of my thumbs.
"That feels nice, Miss, your hand is lovely and warm
against my tit." I snatched it away with haste. "It was a lovely day for a dip.
I feel really fresh now. I was getting a bit poo-ey with all the sex I've been having.
Miss Mountains prefers it if I don't have a shower first."
Good old Smegs. Or good new Smegs, as she was now, with her
new muscular form , courtesy of Corinne. I thought of her, bounding through the woods, a
symphony of magnificently co-ordinated muscle.
"Here she comes now. She must have been for a
walk."
"Not a walk. She went for a run." I looked in the
direction Michaela was looking. Smegs had appeared, walking in a jerky, ungainly rhythm.
She tottered along on tiptoes for a few paces, then darted from one side to the other.
Nothing at all about her suggested magnificent co-ordination. It must be difficult to look
magnificent or co-ordinated while holding a handful of material away from one's groin.
Smegs lurched to a halt in front of us. Her expression was
pained. I wondered why she was holding herself like that. No doubt, she would tell us in
her own good time.
"What are you holding your crotch for, Miss?"
Michaela giggled.
Smegs let go, and stood with her toes and knees turned
inwards, biting her lower lip and hopping slightly up and down. I gasped. So did Michaela.
"Christ, Miss! What have you got under there? Have you
grown a cock or something?"
I was wondering much the same thing myself. Smegs grabbed
her handful of fleecy pants again. It seemed to offer her some relief, but not much.
"Your clit's grown, Miss!" Michaela accused her.
"You ought to do what I did to my pants. Look!"
And she showed us, spreading her thighs and leaning back so
that her mound was raised up out of the way and her breasts tumbled back to flop massively
down past her head into the water. I was appalled by the sight.
"What about that, Miss Mountains?" she asked.
"I can't see what you're talking about, Mikki. Miss
Gruntworthy's face is in the way." I got off my hands and knees and sat on the wall
again next to Michaela.
"Oh, that's gross," Smegs cried, clutching
at her groin again. "Does it work? I mean, does it stop it throbbing and itching?
Does it relieve the unending chains of orgasms?"
Michaela wrinkled her nose in thought. "I s'pose it
would, if you wanted it to. You really want that?"
"Yes!" Smegs said through gritted teeth.
Obviously, she had had enough. She pulled the pants down so her pudenda were revealed. Or
was revealed. It's a bit like data, really. Whatever it's like, Smegs pulled her pants
down and revealed her pudenda.
"Have you ever seen anything like that lot in your
life, Miss?" Michaela said in awe.
I was about to say that I had, not an hour before, then I
realised that what I had seen an hour before, what, in fact, I had wrapped my lips and
tongue around, was not what we were gazing at now. Smegs's already impressive labia were
now more than matched by a clitoris of truly heroic proportions. It twitched with a life
of its own.
It was useless to mention it. I knew where it had come from.
No idea why, but I certainly knew who was responsible. This situation could not be allowed
to continue. I could not stand idly by while my friends were being transformed like this.
The woman had to be stopped.
"Smegs, darling. Sit down and listen ..."
"I can't sit down, I'm all itchy ..." She set off
to pace round her bedroom again.
"That's why I need you to listen. You haven't always
been itchy, like this, have you? Think about it. You can't have been, can you. You'd have
gone mad."
"I am going mad, Shan!"
"That's what I mean. Think about it." She shut up
and sat on the edge of her bed. She still hadn't pulled her baggy pants back up yet, and
the magnificence of her thighs was hypnotic. So was what lay between them. I turned away
so I wouldn't have to look at it. "You weren't always like this. You have been
altered deliberately by someone who has access to a highly sophisticated computer program
which has the ability to change history."
It was heavy going, trying to get through to her. She was
starting to fidget again. Her fingers sought her clit. To be fair, it didn't take a lot of
seeking. I had to get her attention.
"It's Cee!"
"What's Cee?"
"It's Corinne. She's spending all her time down in the
IT lab playing with the computer. This morning, you didn't have a clit as long as that.
Nor as thick."
"I didn't?" Smegs had a confused look on her face,
but she was listening at least.
"If you did, you wouldn't have gone out running in the
woods. You wouldn't have been able to stand the torture of it, would you? You're not that
stupid. You're not stupid at all," I said hurriedly, as she opened her mouth to
protest. "This morning, you went for a run. Can you remember what you were doing
before that?"
Smegs shrugged. "I don't know. I was here with
you?"
"You remember that? You remember what we were
doing?"
"No, but I assume you were here with me because you
seemed to know what we had been doing before I went for a run. I'm not stupid, as you
said."
"Right. I was here. We were ... well ... playing with
each other." For some idiotic reason, I found myself blushing. "We were licking
each other's ... front bottoms." Smegs nodded to show she understood what front
bottoms were, and why two grown women would want to lick each other's. That was
encouraging: I don't know how I would have been able to explain that. "Anyway, you
licked mine, and I licked yours. Believe me, your clit wasn't anything like that
size."
"How big was it, then?"
"About as big as ... oh, God," I searched around
the bedroom for something the right size. At last, frustrated in my quest, I pulled down
my jeans and pants to demonstrate. It was only about twice as big as this." She
peered at mine as if she had never seen it before. "But that's not all. You weren't
built like this before this morning, either."
"Built?"
"Your muscles." I ran an appreciative hand down
her burstingly massive thigh. "You were wiry before, but not massive. Same as up top,
your shoulders and chest were smaller, too. And your boobs."
"My boobs are bigger?"
"Not exactly. Just the moons. They're much puffier. I'm
glad to say. Very glad."
"And you're saying Corinne changed all that?"
"Yes. Well, yes and no, actually." I suspected the
puffy moons were Anastasia's handiwork. She has a fine eye for detail. Still, better not
to complicate matters by introducing Anastasia. It was weird enough with just Corinne.
"She's changed lots of other things as well, she's..."
"Why?"
I stopped. I wanted to tell her about Michaela's pregnancy,
about her ballooning breasts, about poor Clit being driven mad, about brave Anastasia
fighting single handed to keep Corinne at bay, but Smegs wanted to know why.
"Why what?"
"Why is she changing things?"
"Because she can. Why does a dog lick its
bollocks?"
"There's no need to be coarse, Shan."
"Okay. She's trying to gain control of the world. It
sounds daft, but she's power-mad. She wants to make her breasts smaller, and to do that,
she has to make Michaela's bigger than Cassandra's, and once she's done that, she can make
Anastasia so big, she can't fight her any more ..."
"You've been overdoing things, Shan. You ought to go
home for the rest of the holidays. Go and get drunk with Baps for a couple of nights. Get
laid. Unwind."
"I'd rather unwind with you and Kia again ..."
"Who?"
"Kia." I looked around the bedroom for the doll,
but Smegs had obviously put her away. A chill descended over me.
When had she done it? The doll had been in here, on the bed,
an hour earlier, after we had finished our glorious session and before we had indulged in
our deeply satisfying sixty-nine before the lights had flickered ... but now Kia was no
longer here. Yet Smegs had gone straight out for her run, and she hadn't been back since
then.
"Did you put her away? In the wardrobe?"
"Who, for fuck's sake?"
"Kia. She lives in the wardrobe." Smegs was
looking panic-stricken, trying to edge away from her mad girlfriend. "Kia's your
inflatable loving-doll, the one that gives milk and squirts when she comes!"
Smegs stood up abruptly and put her hugely powerful arm
around my shoulders.
"Come on, love. I'll take you downstairs to your room,
then I'll get Corinne to send you home. Perhaps Nurse can give you a sedative, same as she
did for Clit. Come on!"
"She's been hallucinating, Cee. Obviously, too much stress, poor kid." Smegs
held my shoulders in a no-nonsense grip. I wasn't going anywhere.
Corinne looked up from the screen and smiled to herself in
what looked like triumph. What's she been doing?" she asked.
Why were they talking about me as if I wasn't there?
"She's been imagining things. She seems to be obsessed
with the private parts of other women. It's not like her at all. It's as if she's so
sensitive about the size of her own vagina, she seems to want to look at mine and
Michaela's. And I mean from really close up. Like a couple of inches. I mean, apart from
anything else, it's really embarrassing. It's only a matter of time before she starts
doing it in a public place, then she'll get arrested and banged-up in jail. We don't want
that, do we?"
"No, we don't. We'd better send the poor girl
home." She stood up and took my other arm. "Come on, Shannie. Let's go up to our
room. We can't send you home on your own on the train, not in your condition. Anything
might happen. You need an escort. Someone responsible. I think Anastasia might be ideal.
She's young, but she's very bright and wise beyond her years."
We had arrived at our room, me in the middle, Smegs holding
one arm, Corinne the other. They marched me inside and placed me in an armchair.
"There, sweetheart," Corinne coo-ed softly. "I'll put the kettle on and
make you a nice cup of tea."
She went off into the kitchen, leaving Smegs as escort.
Smegs continued to call out to her.
"You know what she said, Cee? She was talking about
somebody called Kia who lives in my wardrobe! I didn't know who she was talking about. You
know who she meant?"
Corinne emerged from the kitchen with a mug. My heart and
spleen still leaped at the sight of her. Since frog-marching me up here and going into the
kitchen, she had let her hair down so it tumbled around her shoulders and breasts in a
shimmering cascade of golden flax.
"You've got a woman in your wardrobe, Megan? You're a
dark horse, all right. You never told me about her. What did you say her name was?"
"Kia, apparently. Funny name. But it wasn't a real
woman, Corinne! Guess what. It was a doll. An inflatable doll! She thinks I keep an
inflatable love doll in my wardrobe. I might be insatiable, but I can usually find enough
sex without having to resort to toys. Your little sister keeps me busy enough!"
Corinne blushed prettily. She actually blushed! "Mikki
puts me to shame. She's such a slut, but her heart's in the right place. She'll grow out
of it in time." She sighed. "Of course, it got her into trouble. I always knew
it would. I blame myself, in a way, for her getting pregnant."
For sheer cheek, I had to hand it to Corinne. I felt so
helpless. She was now going to have Anastasia escort me safely off the premises. Two birds
with one stone. With us safely out of the way, Corinne could go ahead and transform every
woman in the world.
I had been totally outmanoeuvred, right down the line.
Corinne had won the battle of the minds.
Even Anastasia seemed stunned. Her usual resilience had deserted her. We stood
forlornly with our overnight bags in the little bus shelter.
Over by the doors to the main building, a large van stood
with its back doors open and a ramp leading down to the ground. Three men in long grey
dustcoats were manhandling a grand piano up the stone steps into the school. They paused
in their labours to watch as a gigantically pregnant girl wrapped in an enormous beach
towel passed them, on her way out. Although it was too far away to hear what they were
saying, it appeared to be something lewd, as the men laughed loudly and nervously, and the
girl lifted the edge of the towel to show them something.
It was nearly nine pm. Corinne was not taking the risk of
having us on the St Cat's campus overnight. We were scheduled for the ten o' clock train.
Smegs watched us, alert but relaxed in her fleecy sweat shirt and pants. She had stuffed a
lampshade down the front of her pants to stop them pressing on her clit. It looked rather
odd, to say the least.
Corinne had declined to come out and wave us off on our
journey. No doubt, she was already doing her worst in the IT lab. Even as we watched, I
swear I saw the lights flicker in the main building.
"Here's Jonesy coming," Smegs said. Ezekiel
Jones's taxi was weaving down the driveway, its headlights painting the trees.
Ezekiel Jones weaved his taxi down the driveway. His pulse raced as his headlights cut
a dancing swathe through the trees ahead of him. Two young ladies, he had been told. Two
huge-titted young ladies wanting to catch the ten o' clock from Borcester.
Already, the miniature television camera mounted in the
ceiling of the limo was sending crystal clear pictures to the recorder beneath Ezekiel's
front seat. As he drew to a halt beside the bus shelter, he pressed the switch and the
recorder started running. Later, he would replay the tape and marvel at the breasts of
these young St Cat's ladies. Pity it wasn't the blonde pregnant one again. Her tall friend
was there, though. She seemed to be wearing a lampshade down her trousers. She wasn't
coming though, it was the other two, who were picking up their bags.
Not to be sneezed at, anyway. The taller one with the skinny
hips was bloody enormous up top, but the little one with the glasses had easily, easily,
EASILY the biggest pair of tits he'd ever had in his taxi. It was going to be an
entertaining night.
We rode in silence to the station. Only when Mr Jones had escorted us through the
station booking office and on to the platform did I say anything to Anastasia.
"I'm sorry, Staze. I screwed up bigtime."
"It's all right, Miss. At least, we tried. We did our
best."
I had a lump in my throat. Anastasia had done her best, I
had screwed everything. If I had just shut up about the doll Kia, I might have got away
with it, but no. Chauntaille and her big mouth strikes again.
"We'll just go to your Mum's house for a few days,
Miss, like Miss Meadowlark said. You can have a nice rest. Is she expecting us?"
"Yes. Miss Mountains called and warned her."
"So there'll be lots of food, then?" Anastasia was
brightening visibly.
"Yes, there'll be plenty of food."
"Oh, great. No disrespect, Miss, but I was getting a
bit fed up with beans on toast."
Ezekiel Jones glanced furtively around the station yard, then climbed into the back
door of his limo. Both back seats were still girl-warm.
He was instantly transported back to his childhood in the
valleys, when he had lurked behind the bike sheds to watch the girls arriving at school in
the mornings. It had been his delight to sniff at the saddles of the girls' bicycles.
"Duw, tell them all apart, I could; and I knowed
when they was coming into season: big Rhiannon Bevan, and those improbably buxom daughters
of Incest Davies. The great-granddaughters of the more or less permanently pregnant
forty-year-old Dilys Davies, Dilwyn Davies's very own sister. Ah, them fecund and fertile
Davies girls. So deliciously, delightfully moist. Those 'ot summer mornings when the coal
dust 'ung 'eavy in the still valley air. The summers was always the best!"
Now, his hands and knees sinking into the plush carpet
in front of the rear seats, the diminutive Welshman sniffed deeply at the warm Connolly
leather. Four or five lung-fulls later, his head spinning and his eyes watering from the
various intimate scents and fragrances of Chauntaille and Anastasia, he scrambled back
into the driving seat and set off home to the village. On the seat beside him lay a video
cassette.