DADDY DOES tend to stare at the girls I bring home. You'd think he'd be getting used to
them by now. I know, he did sleep with Smegs, which probably serves him right at his age,
and he might well have chanced his luck with some of the others. There are some things I
would rather not know.
I'm sure Mother wishes I could bring more boyfriends home
now and again.
Daddy was staring at Anastasia. It didn't appear to make her
feel uncomfortable: she engaged him in animated conversation. Honestly, he is no better
than a teenage boy. He even asked Anastasia if she could help him program the video
recorder! I would have thought even he could have come up with a better excuse than
that. Within ten seconds, the two of them were on their hands and knees in front of the
video, with Anastasia reading out the instructions and occasionally guiding Daddy's finger
to the right button. They seemed unnecessarily close together, and there was a lot of
giggling going on.
"Haven't you done that thing yet?" I asked him
testily, when Anastasia had gone off to the toilet.
"I'm really busting for a shit," she had
informed us, in her crystal tones, which had given Mother the vapours and had even seemed
to dampen Daddy's ardour for a moment.
"It's a very complicated machine," said Daddy.
"Anastasia is the first person I ever met who could translate the instructions. Are
you sure she's only in the Second Form?"
"Of course I'm sure. Just because her tits are nearly
twice as big as mine, it doesn't mean a thing. She's very advanced for her age."
"I never noticed her tits," Daddy asserted.
"You must be getting short sighted, then," Mother
told him. "You had your whole head in her cleavage a minute ago. Randy toad. You
always were a sucker for a hundred and fifty inch bust."
Anastasia returned, still tucking herself in. 'Oh, God,' I
groaned inwardly. 'She's taken her bra off!'
Mother noticed, too. She snorted and left the room in
disgust.
"It's nearly midnight, Anastasia," I warned her.
"Long past your bedtime."
"Oh, Miss!" She pouted and stuck a thumb in her
mouth, looking appealingly at Daddy.
"You can go on up, Shan," he said. "I'll see
Anastasia to her room and make sure she's comfortable. She's just got to show me how to
set the recorder for the football next Wednesday night. Haven't you, Anastasia?"
Anastasia, kneeling in front of him, leaned forward,
revealing another foot or so of cleavage. "Yes, Mr Gruntworthy. It's very
complicated, but you're so intelligent, you'll soon pick it up."
That was enough for me. I closed the door behind me with
unnecessary force.
Smegs was sitting on her bed shaving her legs when the lights flickered again. It was
happening more often these days. Something felt strange and spooky when it happened: a
feeling that it wasn't just a problem with the lights. Every time it happened, it sent a
chill down Smegs's back. Strange, half-remembered images came fleetingly back to her. A
girl's breasts getting bigger, and bigger, and bigger. Stupid, really. Such things did not
happen, not in real life.
So why was she imagining them? She shuddered and looked
around the room before starting to shave her left leg again. She stopped with the razor
poised, and felt the hair on the back of her neck slowly stand on end. The sensation
spread to the rest of her scalp, and she turned slowly to look behind her. Something crept
into the edge of her vision, and her head snapped round. There was somebody on the bed.
It was a woman of slightly Oriental appearance.
Smegs laughed, relief coursing through her. That bloody
full-size inflatable Smeggy doll, Kia from Korea. "You scared me rigid, you
know?" Smegs said shakily. "I thought you were in the wardrobe."
It was hard to hold the razor still. Her hand was trembling
too much. "Come on, Megan. Get a grip!"
The lights flickered. Just a little bit, nothing more than a
momentary dimming of the light.
Smegs rested the razor against her leg, and held one hand
with the other to stop it shaking. "It's no good, Kia, I'll chop my leg off if I
carry on like this." And she turned round to brandish the razor threateningly at the
doll.
The doll? In the split second before she had fully turned,
Smegs, knew, just knew, what she was going to see. Or rather, was not going to see.
She was right. Kia was gone.
Smegs let out a bleat of horror, dropped the razor and shot
to her feet. Edging round the bed, her eyes fixed on the spot where the doll ought to have
been, Smegs fumbled for the catch of the wardrobe door. It creaked open, and she thrust a
hand inside, feeling around the empty space. There was something heavy in there, that fell
on to her hand, startling her with its suddenness and nipping her fingers against the edge
of the door. She looked down.
It was Kia's hand pump.
"Eeeek!" Smegs backed away, felt for the door, and
began edging backwards out of the room into the corridor.
"Hello, Miss!"
"Aaaaargh! Don't DO that!"
"Sorry, Miss. I wasn't expecting you to come flying out
of your room backwards like that. I didn't mean to frighten you."
Smegs turned round and stared at Michaela. The girl was
puffing as if she had just run up the stairs.
"I just ran up the stairs," she said.
"There's a huge box for you down there. I signed for it. A man in a big black
waterproof coat delivered it."
"I don't want it. Tell him to take it away!"
"He's gone. Anyway, it's yours. It's got your name on
it. It came from Korea, it says so on the label."
"Oh, no!" Smegs had been heading toward the top of
the stairs, but she caught sight of the box down below. She reversed and set off, past the
astonished Michaela, heading for the back exit.
Smegs went down the back stairs at a full run, all her
down-below dangly-bits jiggling as she wasn't wearing her fleecy baggy pants. You can't
shave your legs with baggy pants on. She didn't stop until she reached the bra facility.
It was in darkness. No sign of Clit. She had that spooky
feeling again, as if there was something she ought to know but didn't. Something to do
with Clit, or was it Kia from Korea, or Shan. Shan! That was it!
She blundered into Clit's workshop, not wanting to turn on
the lights in case they flickered again. She almost sent the phone skittering off the
bench before she caught it, and tapped out Chauntaille's home number.
No reply. She wondered what time it was. Nine thirty. They
wouldn't be in bed yet. Shan might be down the pub with Baps, but Anastasia would be in,
unless she was seeing Cassandra. Mr and Mrs Gruntworthy ought to be at home, surely ...?
"Hello?"
"Mr Gruntworthy? Hi, it's Megan."
"Megan? Oh, Smegs! I was just ... I was teaching
Anastasia how to use my power tools. She's very intelligent for a girl. I remember Shan at
her age, all she was interested in was dolls ..."
There was that feeling again. Smegs looked over her shoulder
as her flesh crawled.
"At least, she grew out of that. She prefers the real
thing these days."
"Is she there? I need to speak to her."
"Who, Shan, or Anastasia?"
"Shan, of course!"
"She's gone out with Baps," said Mr Gruntworthy.
"They won't be back until after closing time. I'm baby-sitting for Anastasia."
Anastasia? Why not tell Anastasia? She probably knew lots
more about computers and things than Shan did.
"She'll do!" Smegs made her decision. "Can I
speak to Anastasia, please?"
There was a lot of muttering at the other end of the phone,
and the sound of the mouthpiece being covered, then Anastasia's babyishly crystal-clear
voice came on.
"Hello, Miss?"
Smegs realised she didn't know what to say. Where to start?
Kia from Korea? The flickering lights? That spooky feeling she kept getting?
"Miss? Did you want me, or was it Miss
Gruntworthy you wanted? If it was about that doll of yours, it's all right, I know all
about it."
Smegs felt her hair stand on end again. "All about
it?"
"Yes, Miss. Everything. Miss Gruntworthy told me all
about it. Is Kia there now, or has she gone again? She comes and goes, doesn't she?"
"Yes. She comes and goes. She wasn't there, then she
was. Then she disappeared. The lights kept flickering. And Kia's just been delivered
again. She's in a box downstairs."
"Yes, Miss. She's a bit unstable. Same as those men in
waterproofs who keep delivering all those grand pianos. I've been letting them run,
because they don't seem harmful,at all. Same as Mr Jones, the taxi man. He's unstable,
too."
"Is he?"
"Miss? You believe it now, don't you? That something
weird's going on?"
"You could say that, yes!"
"Right, then. I'll protect you. I've got a computer
here. I can connect to Fuckh and protect you remotely. You'll probably start noticing some
strange things happening. You don't need to worry."
"Strange things? You mean a spooky feeling?"
"Well, yes, of course. That goes without saying. But
Michaela's boobs might start getting bigger again. Not to worry. That will be Miss
Meadowlark doing that. Other things as well. I can probably do something about your clit
for you. Later: I'll do it after midnight, when Miss Meadowlark has gone to bed and turned
her lights off; then she won't see them flickering. I'll have to unprotect you, shrink
your clit and protect you again. How big would you like it?"
"Oh, I don't know, Staze. Average size will do! Does it
matter?"
"No, of course not. Clits are a bit like cocks, really.
The size doesn't matter at all. Okay, Miss. And don't worry. I'll look after you. Hang in
there. We'll be back tomorrow. With you on our side, we can win this."
Mr Gruntworthy wondered if he had heard what he thought he had heard. Was this the way
St Cat's schoolgirls spoke to their teachers? Michaela's boobs getting bigger? Did Smegs
have a remotely adjustable clitoris? And was Anastasia going to connect to fuck? At least,
that part sounded distinctly promising to Mr Gruntworthy.
"It's bedtime," Anastasia said to him softly.
"Are you ready? You must be tired."
"Not too tired, no!"
"Silly boy! Go on, up you go. Brush your teeth and get
into bed. Give me a kiss." Anastasia offered her full lips, slightly parted and very
moist.
"Oh, God!" Mr Gruntworthy's loins finally got the
better of him.
"Now look what you've done!" Anastasia said.
"You'll have to go to the bathroom and clean yourself up. Be sure and put your nasty
sticky dirty shorts in the laundry basket.
"Yes, Anastasia."
"It's all right, I won't tell Mrs Gruntworthy you shot
your load in your pants." She pressed her lips against his cheek, and more or less in
passing, squashed her immense breasts against his cold, damp groin.
"Night-night," she breathed in his ear. "See you at breakfast. I've got
lots to do tonight, protecting Miss Mountains. Miss Meadowlark finally bit off more than
she could chew and screwed up. We're ready to trade blow for blow with her."
"God, Anastasia! I don't understand a single word you
say. You're so brilliant!" Mr Gruntworthy took a handful of his groin again, and
began to pant.
Anastasia stepped back smartly, seized his hand and led him
briskly to the foot of the stairs.
"Go on. Upstairs at once! Bedtime." She helped him
on his way with a playful smack on the bottom, then watched as he climbed the stairs in
what seemed to be some discomfort.
Time for supper! Anastasia crossed the kitchen to the big
black stove, helped herself to a bowl of thick farmhouse soup and hacked a doorstep slice
of crusty fresh bread. She placed them on the scrubbed deal table and poured a big glass
of that lovely cold sweet milk from the fridge. Girl-milk! So good for the brain.
"You're looking very fit, Cass," Anastasia wiped her breakfast plate,
clearing up the last remains of her scrambled eggs and bacon, sausages, fried potatoes,
black pudding, baked beans and mushrooms with a hunk of bread. Cassandra watched her in
stunned silence as she layered butter and marmalade on to a huge slice of toast.
"You'll explode, eating all that," Cassandra said
at last.
"Before I came here, I'd hardly eaten for days, apart
from fruit and beans." Anastasia loosened her belt and belched politely.
"Anyway, I won't explode. It mostly goes to my tits."
"Another week of this and yours will be as big as
mine."
"No chance." Anastasia looked the amazonian
Cassandra up and down. "I'll never be as big as you. Anyway, I haven't got another
week. That's one reason I'm eating so much. We're going back to St Cat's tomorrow. Mr
Gruntworthy's driving us back after lunch." She anointed another piece of toast and
stuffed half of it into her mouth.
"What are you going back for? You and Shan? I mean Miss
Gruntworthy?"
"It's a secret. I'm not allowed to tell you. But it's
very important. It's a pity. I'll miss all the lovely food, and Mr Gruntworthy, too."
"Anastasia! You haven't ...?" Cassandra blushed at
the very thought.
"Not yet. I don't think I will. Shagging your teacher's
Daddy isn't a very good idea, is it?"
Cassandra sighed with relief. "If you wanted to get
laid, you could come out with the gang tonight. Just a dozen of us. You don't have to
fuck, most of us just cuddle. The boys would like you. You've got bigger tits than most of
the dairy girls, and they could squeeze yours without making a horrible milky mess all
over their jeans. Come on, Staze!"
"I don't know. I promised I'd be faithful to
Clark."
"Oh. Never mind, then." Cassandra watched
Anastasia finish off the jar of marmalade and start a new loaf of bread. She wiped the
crust round the frying pan and began scraping the scrambled egg saucepan to get at the
last dried-up crumbs of nourishment.
"Perhaps I could come out with you, after all. I
could be faithful to Clark again afterwards. What are they like, these boys?"
"Just boys. All right for a leg-over. A bit quick, but
there's plenty of them."
"Right. Call for me tonight, okay? Christ, this bra's
nearly bursting. It's on its last strip of velcro, it won't go any bigger. I'll have to
see Clit again when we get back."
"I'm not surprised," Cassandra reminded her
mournfully. "I told you they were going to explode. Anyway, you won't need a bra
tonight. See ya about seven, right?" She lumbered to the door, ducking below the
beams and the door frame.
Anastasia was already on her knees in front of the fridge.
I came down the stairs into the kitchen. Anastasia appeared to be crawling into the
fridge. From this view, she had already put on several inches round her bum this week.
"Hi, Miss," she said without looking up. She must
have eyes in her bottom. "Want some breakfast? I've had mine, but I could have some
more to keep you company."
"No, thanks. I don't think I could face anything at
this time of morning."
"It's nearly eleven, Miss," she said
disapprovingly. "Nearly lunchtime."
I hurried to the back door and took a lungful of fresh air.
My head spun. It had been one of those heavy evenings at the village pub. Even heavier
afterwards. And I had believed that the Uncontrollable Horniness had died away in
Fillamore Deepleigh after all these years. If it had, nobody had bothered to tell the
inhabitants.
"I'm going out shagging with Cassandra tonight."
Anastasia must have been reading my mind.
"I don't really want to know, Staze." I was in
loco parentis here. I ought not allow her to go out in search of sex. She would
probably find it. I had found it myself last night, but I think I preferred being a
lesbian, thank you very much.
Mind you, young Donovan had been quite well hung. Not in
Jeremy's class, when it came to size, and disappointingly quick, too. I had barely said
woo-woo-woo when he had climbed off and pulled his pants up. "Where are you
off to," I had asked him.
"Thanks," he had said simply and vanished into the
silage-fragrant night.
So much for that evening's entertainment.
"I might not shag anyone," Anastasia said,
buttering a chunk of bread and slicing a wedge of girl-Wensleydale cheese. "Cass says
they mostly just cuddle these days."
"Good." A cuddle would have done me quite nicely,
but I didn't even get that from Donovan. All I got was a swift prod and an itch that still
needed scratching.
"Stop scratching yourself, Miss. You're putting me off
my girl-cheese sandwich."
"You could have fooled me." The whole thing
disappeared into her gaping maw. She fell to her knees again. She had obviously spotted
something in the fridge that she fancied.
"This big cake, Miss. Is it fresh cream? You wouldn't
want it to go off, would you?"
"Anastasia! Not cake. You'll get huge. Eat some more
fruit. You know what happens to you when you don't."
"I've had a load of fruit already, Miss. As soon as I
got up this morning. I don't think I'll have any more. I'll try and save up some of my
Uncontrollable Horniness for tonight."
She cut herself a vast slice of cake and demolished it in
seconds, then looked sadly at what was left.
"There's not much left, Miss. It seems a pity really
..."
Perhaps I could have stopped her and made her put the rest
of the cake back in the fridge, but I wasn't quick enough.
"Thanks, Miss, you're a star!" The last of the
cake disappeared. "Perhaps I will have some fruit now," she decided,
prowling round the table in search of the fruit bowl. It's still nearly six hours before I
see Cassandra and the boys. Oh, and by the way. We're going back to St Cat's
tomorrow!"
I LAY on the bed talking to Baps on the phone. She had already arranged a date for me
tonight. Donovan again.
"But he's so quick, not like my ... I mean, not like
Jeremy. I mean he's well-hung and everything, but it's all over in ten seconds. Is that
the way sex is supposed to be?"
"You should know, darling, you're the expert,"
Baps giggled down the line. "Maybe if we get him drunk first, he won't come quite so
quickly."
"I don't really want to go shagging tonight, Baps.
Anastasia told me we have to go back to St Cat's tomorrow."
"Which one of you two is in charge round here?"
"I am, I suppose. Well, most of the time. Right now,
she is. There's something we have to do and Anastasia is the only one who knows how to do
it. I wouldn't have a clue. I can't help it if the girl's a genius, can I?"
"You taught her, Shan. Serves you right. I'll see you
at eight, in the public bar. There'll be a pint on the counter, so don't be late,
okay?"
I put the phone down and jumped about a foot in the air.
"How long have you been standing there, Staze?"
"Since you said about how well-hung Donovan is, Miss.
I'll be seeing his brother in a minute. Do my clothes look all right?"
She was wearing her favourite army fatigues, complete with
the German Army paratroops' boots.
"Aren't the pants supposed to be baggy?"
She tugged at them ineffectually. "They've shrunk a
bit, Miss. So's the top."
"You disgusting little girl. You are fat! You
must have put on twenty pounds. All on your tits and your bottom. You haven't stopped
eating since we arrived."
"I know," she sighed, looking at both her hands,
uncertain which one to bite next. Her right one contained a gigantic slice of chocolate
cake, about three layers thick and topped with chocolate icing; her left held what looked
like an entire bread pudding, about six inches square and two inches thick, its top crisp
and sugar-sprinkled, the rest of it soggy with sultanas and rich in raisins. It must have
weighed half a ton. Her face, nose, eyebrows and hair were all liberally smeared with
chocolate. She went for the bread pudding, taking a mouthful that bulged her cheeks like a
squirrel's. "I feel absolutely stuffed, Miss!"
I didn't feel too good. "Haven't you anything looser
you could wear?"
"Not anything I could wear to go out with boys. These
things will do. I only wanted to show you how huge I've got. I'm shamefully huge, Miss.
Shameful, shameful!"
Why did that sound vaguely familiar? She stuffed most of the
rest of the cake into her face, farted and apologised, then struggled to the door. Her
mammoth bust looked obscene.
"Have a nice time," I called as she went out,
colliding with both sides of the doorway at the same time.
Daddy closed the garage doors and climbed up into the four by four. I was in the front,
next to him, Anastasia lounged in the back seat. She was wearing what I recognised as one
of Cassandra's outfits, although it must have been one of her old ones, because Anastasia
was almost exploding out of it.
Mother came out of the house to wave goodbye. Then she
disappeared back indoors and came back with a small picnic hamper. "Just a few bits
and pieces in case Anastasia gets hungry on the journey," she said in a stage
whisper, shoving the hamper into the back seat with the girl, who instantly prised up the
lid and looked inside.
"Gosh, thanks, Mrs Gruntworthy!" she immediately
took out a couple of doughnuts and started in on them, one in each hand."
"Staze! You can't be hungry already! You've just had
that enormous lunch, and you only got up and had your breakfast an hour before that. I
hate to think how heavy you must be now, but you're shamfully huge. Shamefully."
"Leave the poor child alone," Mother scolded me.
"You starve the poor girls at that school. Look at her now. She's a different
girl."
She was going to need a complete new uniform as soon as we
got back, and new bras. And there was no Clit any more.
I'm sure Daddy was embarrassed. If he wasn't, he ought to have been. Anastasia's
description of her escapades on the night before would have made a monk's tonsure curl.
"How was Donovan, anyway, Miss? Did you get yourself
sorted?"
"If you mean did we enjoy our evening together, the
answer is yes, thank you," I told her haughtily.
"Yeah, but did you get fucked, Miss. I scored with all
of them at least twice, apart from Daniel. He smelled bad, so I only had him once. Pity,
he was probably as big as his brother. That's Donovan, you know. Your boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend!"
"There were eight of them when we started, but one went
home. I think he was scared of me. I suppose I am the girl with the biggest breasts he'd
ever seen."
"You're what? The biggest? What about Cassandra?"
"Smaller than me. She's quite trim now. I'll tell you
more about it when we get back, Miss."
I glanced back over my shoulder, and she was holding a
conspiratorial finger against her nose. She had a fistful of cake in the same hand.
"How's your clit now, Miss?"
"Much better, thank you, Anastasia," said Smegs,
"I've thrown away my lampshade."
She had indeed. Smegs had got rid of her lampshade, and she
was now wearing a pair of the tightest jeans I had seen in my life.
"Those are tight, Smegs," I said."
"They shouldn't be," she retorted crossly. "I
only bought them last week."
"And they still fit you, Miss?" Anastasia looked
at the jeans with narrowed eyes.
They were undeniably tight. They showed an alarming amount
of detail in the area of her crotch. VPL, the girls call it. Anastasia shook her head
quickly at me, so I said nothing. Anastasia knows best, after all.
"I think we'd better get over to the bra facility
straight away and get ourselves protected again." Anastasia was brisk and
businesslike. She held her arms out wide like a shepherd and guided Smegs and me to the
doorway. At that moment, the wardrobe door slid open and Kia came tumbling out. Smegs
looked slightly worried, as if expecting the doll to disappear without warning.
"Have the lights been flickering much this week,
Miss?" Anastasia asked as we hurried down the back stairs and headed round the edge
of the quad in the direction of the bra facility.
"Every night until about eleven o'clock, when Corinne
goes to bed. God knows what she's doing down there."
"We'll connect and find out in a minute."
Anastasia opened the door and immediately busied herself with coaxial cables and power
leads. Within a minute, she was tapping instructions into the laptop computer.
"Okay," she said softly. "We're all ready. I'll just protect the three of
us."
"What are we going to do?" I whispered.
"Yes, what?" said Smegs.
"Why are we all whispering?" Anastasia whispered.
"It's all to do with Cassandra. You know about her being the benchmark, Miss?"
Smegs nodded.
"Okay. That's why she's the Head Girl: she's got the
biggest bust at St Cat's. At least, she did. If she was here, and if we had a tape
measure, I think I'd probably be the biggest, by quite a lot."
We stared at Anastasia. She was disgracefully fat after the
past few days' over-indulgence, but it wasn't confined to her tummy and her bottom. Her
bust was undeniably huge.
"Why does Corinne want to make you Head Girl?" I
asked her.
"She doesn't. She's made Cassandra smaller so she can
make Michaela biggest. She wants Michaela to be Head Girl."
Smegs wrinkled her brow. "Why make Cassandra smaller?
Why not just make Michaela bigger?"
"Good question, Miss."
"Well, what's the answer?" I nagged her.
"I don't know, Miss. Miss Meadowlark's a teacher. I'm
only a girl."
"You're a very bright girl, Anastasia." I placed
an arm round her plump shoulders. "What do you think she's trying to do?"
"I think she thinks I think I want to be Head Girl,
Miss. She wants to make me so huge I can't move."
"Why does she need to make Cassandra smaller to do
that?" Smegs had put her finger on it again. I lifted her hand from my lap. There was
a time and a place for everything.
"It seems to be working, doesn't it?" Anastasia
spread her hands. "Look at me!"
"You don't mean ... all this eating? It was Miss
Meadowlark making you bigger? Why?"
"So I could get laid last night. Obviously, Cassandra
has this great crowd of boyfriends at Fillamore Deepleigh because she has such huge tits.
If Miss Meadowlark gave me bigger ones than Cassandra, I'd get all the boys. Miss
Meadowlark knows I love fucking, so she made me eat enough to give me the biggest tits in
Fillamore Deepleigh. At the same time, she had to make Cassandra smaller, because I
couldn't eat enough to get bigger than she was, not in a couple of days. But Cassandra was
incidental. She's out of it. Miss Meadowlark is really out to get me, nobody else. She's
slowly making me so big, I won't be able to walk before long."
We sat silently contemplating this thought.
"I don't know what you mean," I said.
"And if you're too big to walk, so will Michaela
be," Smegs said.
"But Miss Meadowlark will give Michaela all the breast
boys to carry her around. And she's not going to let me stop trying to get bigger than
Michaela."
"You mean you want to be Head Girl?" I squeaked.
"Of course I do. I want to have a thousand-inch bust
and everything else to match!"
"Anastasia!"
"I know, Miss. It's stupid, and I know it is. But
there's nothing I can do about it. You remember when we gave Miss Meadowlark PMT? It's the
same as that. She knew you loved her, and she knew she loved you, and she knew she was
being horrible to you, but she still couldn't do anything about it. That's exactly how I
feel. I know I'm over-eating. I know I'm going to end up with a gigantic pair of tits and
weigh a ton. I even know why, and I know how she's doing it. But I can't do anything about
it!"
"It's all right, Staze," I said encouragingly.
"We're in there fighting for you. We'll stop you getting bigger and bigger. We'll
stop you becoming the Head Girl!"
"Don't you dare, Miss!" And Anastasia burst into
tears.
Just as Anastasia burst into tears, the lights flickered.
Instantly, she was alert, blinking and wiping her tears
away, squinting at the screen through her glasses. "Here we go, Miss. This is the Big
One. Miss Meadowlark is going for it. She is pressing the button, pulling the trigger
..."
Smegs leaned forward, her powerful thighs rippling beneath
her taut jeans. I felt proud to be a lesbian once more. "What's she done?"
"She's made Cassandra smaller again!"
"Why?" I asked, feeling lost and helpless.
Anastasia's voice dropped to an urgent whisper. We all
gathered closer. "She doesn't know we've come back. She thinks I'm going out with
Cassandra and the boys again tonight. So she's trying to make me even bigger. It seems she
doesn't know how big I am. She's guessing."
"That figures, Smegs. Nobody would ever imagine young
Staze could have eaten this much in such a short time. She's got gigantic in next to no
time flat. Corinne doesn't know how successful she's been!"
"Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-WOW!" Splosh! I
swear you could almost hear it! Anastasia subsided to the floor on her back with her legs
up around her ears somewhere. One of the noticeable things about soldiers' fatigues is
that they show every trace of love-juice. I suppose it's not really a factor which
military dress designers need to take into account. After all, if a soldier gets too
moist, he or she can always explain it away by saying it's blood, or tea, or something,
and nobody is going to argue, after all, or they'll get shot.
Smegs and I stood and looked at her as she rolled on her
back, the computer forgotten by her side. The wet patch around her groin suggested that
Anastasia had experienced a major ejaculation event. She hadn't finished, either.
"Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-WOW!" she bellowed, and the wet patch doubled
in size.
"Anastasia!" I shouted.
"Sorry, Miss. "Sixty-seven!"
"Thank you. You are on school premises, after all. I
know it's officially holidays, but you are in line for the Head Girl position, and you
really must remember the school rules."
"I said sorry, Miss. "Oh, no, here it comes
agaiiiiiin! Woo-woo-woo-woo-WOOOW! WOW! WOW! Seventy! Help me off with these pants,
for fuck's sake ...!"
She was obviously under some stress. Smegs took one leg and
I took the other. The fatigues slid off wetly, with the German Army Paratroop boots inside
them. I reached out to pull down her panties.
"No, allow me," Smegs insisted, diving in with
both hands. She was still admiring her soggy prize, kneeling very much in Anastasia's
personal space, when Anastasia started again.
"Woo-woo-woo ..."
"Smegs, I wouldn't stay down there if I were you
...!"
"... woo-woo-woo-WOOOFFF!" It was arguably
the biggest fountain of juice I had ever seen. I quite happily forgave Anastasia
forgetting to call out the score. If I had come like that, I'd have forgotten it, too. It
hit Smegs squarely between the eyes. I tried to drag her away, but she wasn't having any.
"Don't you dare!" Smegs gurgled liquidly at me.
Her mouth was wide open to receive Anastasia's spraying fluids, and she seemed to catch
most of it. "Oh, woo!" Smegs moaned softly. "Fucking
woo-woo-fucking-bleeding-woo-sodding-WOW! Nine!"
Anastasia did it again, remembering the score this time, and
Smegs responded with another burst of foul and abusive industrial language. I was tempted
to leave them to it for an hour or so, but we were here for a purpose.
By the time Anastasia sploshed yet another load of juice, I
had my face in position A, which miffed Smegs no end.
"Woo-woo-woo," I suppose I must have said, as one
hand plunged itself down below to explore my love-cavern.
"Wow! Ten!" Smegs was never a girl to be left out.
"Seventy-six," announced Anastasia, who had
slipped a couple in unannounced.
"Good girl," I said, lapping encouragingly at her
clitoris. It slid eagerly between my lips, like a live anchovy. Smegs had evidently
decided she wasn't going to get any more facefuls of Anastasia's girl-goo with me in the
way, so had gone in search of action elsewhere. As I lay on my stomach with my face in
Anastasia's gushing crotch, my legs extended outward, to avoid the girl's mammoth left
breast which lay on the floor by her side. I made no objection when my jeans and pants
were pulled down by cool confident hands and a well-remembered tongue began to probe
between my wide-spread thighs.
"Oh, woo-woo-WOO!" I howled.
"MEGAN!"
She likes me to use her Sunday name at times of passion.
"Jesus, Miss!" That had to be Anastasia's reaction
to finding Smegs's crotch within a few inches of her nose. It's very much an acquired
taste, I always think. Anastasia acquired it. Smegs is interesting down there: lots of
fascinating big bits and pieces to play with, and I suppose Anastasia wanted to check out
the latest modifications to Smegs's clit.
It was while I was spreading my legs to allow Smegs full
access that I rolled slightly on to my left side, and both my breasts were crowded into
the space already occupied by Anastasia's left one. Somehow, dear girl, she found a spare
hand to pay attention to my nipples, massaging them into raging erection with four fingers
anointed with something so wet and slippery that I could only assume it came from inside
her.
The triangular tournament continued for some time. Smegs was
up to twenty-three, Anastasia announced that she was past the hundred. I had lost count of
mine and nobody seemed to object.
Then the lights flickered ... once ... twice ... and went
out altogether.
Smegs always knows ...
"Where's the computer?" she wailed, fumbling
around beneath our entwined bodies. The carpet tiles were unbelievably soaked. Her hands
made little splashing noises as she felt all over for the machine. "Come on, we've
got to stand up. Careful, don't step on anything."
She pulled me up, leaving Anastasia still coming, more
quietly now, on the sodden floor. "What's happening?" I whispered.
"Corinne's doing something again. She's obviously given
Anastasia the Uncontrollable Horniness. The poor girl may be no use to us now, even if we
find the computer."
"Fruit," I said. "Fruit works. Fresh fruit.
Although she's never had it as bad as this before. She's gushing almost
continuously."
"I'm all right, Miss," came a weak voice from the
floor. "Woo-woo-WOOOFFF! Jeezus! A hundred and fourteen! I can still think
clearly, but I'm coming every half minute or so. The computer's down here somewhere. I put
it on the bottom shelf when things started getting so wet."
"Good girl, Staze!" I fell to my knees in
the slime and felt for it. "Here it is. Isn't she wonderful? She even disconnected it
and closed the lid."
I handed the computer up to Smegs, and she went splashing
and squelching away across the floor to the workbench. There was a scratching noise, and
Smegs lit a match. We all looked at each other in the brief flare of light, our startled
blank faces, Anastasia still on her back on the glistening floor.
"Staze, can you hear me?" Smegs bent forward to
hiss down at the girl.
"Course I can, Miss. I haven't gone fucking deaf. I'm
just horny."
Smegs ignored the insolence. "You have to talk me
through this. We need to connect up the machine, go online, put in the password, then do
whatever we need to. First thing has to be to stop you coming all the time."
"NO! It's fanTAStic! I feel so fucking RUDE, I could
burst! Woo-woo-woo-WOWEEEE! One-seventeen!"
She had passed one-thirty before she had Smegs connected and
logged on to Fuckh, and one-fifty before Smegs could make head or tail of the comings and
goings on the screen.
"Something to do with Michaela," Smegs said.
"But I can't make it out. A load of numbers and stuff. Looks like dates. Yes, it's
today's date. Then a load of scribble, and the word MICHAELA."
"It's something pretty major, Miss. The lights don't
usually stay off like this unless she's doing something really intensive. She must be
making her bigger than me now." There was a brief embarrassed pause while Smegs
struck another match and Anastasia produced a spectacular fountain of juice which settled
on her flanks like rain.
"Where's all that stuff coming from?" I asked
helplessly.
"My pussy, Miss. It's lube and stuff like that."
"I know that, but I mean, there must be gallons of
it."
"I had a lot to drink last night, Miss. And about a
gallon and a half of fresh orange juice at lunchtime. It must be wearing off now ..."
As the match guttered and went out, Smegs yelped as it burned her fingers, and Anastasia
plunged both gleaming hands into her immense slavering girl-tunnel.
"Shan. Do you mind?" Smegs struck another match
and spoke to me patiently. "Do you think we could get on with this, instead of
discussing the source of Anastasia's juices?"
"I was only asking."
"There's a time and a place for everything, dear. Right
now, we need to find Michaela and see what's happening to her. Somebody has to go and find
her. Somebody useless."
"I can take a hint," I said, clambering into my
jeans. "There's no need to be so snotty about it. Where is she?"
"She won't be far away. Try your bedroom, try my room,
try the dorms. She can't walk very far and not very fast, in her condition. Get your arse
outside and find her. Then get back here and tell us what's happening."
Smegs always knows what to do, but human resources
management isn't her strong suit.
MICHAELA WASN'T in Corinne's and my bedroom. At least, I found a flashlight in there.
My great big Maglite®, the one that always makes me want to slip it inside me, long and
stiff and cool. With a flush of shame, I realised that I had not seen Corinne since coming
back to St Cat's. Normally, I would have dropped everything and rushed down to the IT lab
to find her. Either that, or I would have rushed down to the IT lab to find Corinne and then
dropped everything.
Painting little circles of torchlight on the walls, I
blundered up the stairs and poked my head into Staze's room, then Smegs's. No sign of
Michaela. Down the stairs again, into the dormitory block.
"Michaela? Mikki? You in there?" No answer. Where
else could the girl be? Back on the ground floor, I came out of the double doors into the
car park. A delivery van was just driving off. The words 'Pianos A Speciality' were
painted large on the rear doors.
There were lights on in the Sick Quarters. Even with the
rest of the school in darkness, the emergency power supply would still provide light and
heat to the Sick Quarters. Drawn as if by a magnet, I made my way down the path and banged
on the door.
"Fuck off!" boomed Nurse's voice from within.
"It's me, Shan!" I yelled through the keyhole.
"I'm busy. Go away." The door opened a little and
Nurse allowed one eye to peer round the door. "What do you want?"
"I'm looking for Michaela."
Nurse opened the door a few more inches. I went in, one
breast at a time. Nurse had already disappeared. I closed the door and followed the
squeaking of her shoes down the corridor. There was a panting noise coming from one of the
side rooms, a sound like a big dog.
"What do you want her for?" Nurse said, applying a
damp flannel to Michaela's forehead.
"Hi, Miss!" Michaela was flushed and her face was
damp with sweat. Nurse applied the face cloth again with tender loving caringness.
"I've been looking for you all over the school. You've
started two weeks early."
"No, she hasn't," Nurse snapped. "She's two
weeks late. It's about time she started. Look at the size of her."
I looked at the size of Michaela. It was a fairly impressive
sight. Even knowing that Corinne was going to make her bigger in the bust than the already
colossal Anastasia, it was still fairly impressive. She was totally naked, leaning back
against a pile of pillows stacked against the raked headboard. Both magnificent breasts
were resting on the bed, on each side of her hips. It was a wide double bed, yet her
breasts reached out more or less to the sides of the mattress. Her feet were drawn up and
her knees splayed, and the startling mound of her belly occupied almost the whole of the
space between her thighs and her face. It gleamed softly in the lights, like an enormous
pink pumpkin. Even if it hadn't been dwarfed by her mountainous breasts, it would still
have looked gargantuan.
"What are you having, Mikki, a pair of
cart-horses?"
"It feels like it, Miss. They've been kicking me to
bits in there!" Her face contorted with pain, and Nurse wiped her with the cloth
again. "Won't be long now, Miss. Ouch!" She bit her lip. She did look beautiful.
So much like Corinne.
"How long, Nurse?"
"Fuck knows," Nurse advised professionally.
"Couple of hours, maybe. Probably in the middle of the night, though. You know how
inconsiderate these first timers always are. I had a fuck lined up for tonight, too."
She scratched at her groin with a red-taloned finger, then sniffed absently at it.
"Right, now you've seen what you came to see, and creamed yourself over this kid's
monster titties, you'll be leaving, won't you?"
"I suppose so. There's nothing I can do to help? I
could boil a kettle or something."
Nurse ushered me to the doorway as Michaela started
whimpering and panting again. Sweat pricked on my brow and I began to feel faint.
"All right. Give us a bell when it happens. Her sister
will want to know." And I made my way out with all the dignity I could muster.
The air outside was cool and fresh. Over in the main school
buildings, the lights flickered briefly then came on. A van came slowly to a halt in the
car park, and three men in oilskins climbed out of the cab. As I walked across to the
corner of the quadrangle, they had already started unloading a stack of boxes, each about
the size of a Kia doll.
"Well, did you find her? You've been long enough."
I took in the scene: Smegs was crouched over the little
computer, pounding on the keys. Anastasia was flat on her back in the middle of the sodden
carpet. Looking at her, I realised she was probably very close to Michaela in outright
bust size. It would certainly be a close call. I brought my attention round to urgent
matters.
"The grand piano men are delivering a whole load of Kia
dolls. I suppose they'll be wanting a signature."
"They can whistle for it," Smegs said. "I'm
not even placing the order for another week, when we finish evaluating the first prototype
Kia. Corinne messing about with Time like this has brought it forward."
"Something else has come forward. Michaela's having her
babies tonight. She's down in Sick Quarters."
Anastasia raised herself up like a bosomy Lazarus.
"She's brought her forward two weeks?" she asked, in a quavering voice.
"I've lost track of the timescale. She's having them
tonight, but she's two weeks late. She's enormous!"
"I'll soon have bigger tits than hers," Anastasia
asserted, then lay down and came thunderously again. "Two hundred and
eighty-five," she announced faintly, and I had no reason to believe she lied.
"What's this all mean, then?" I asked Smegs, who
knows most things.
"Ask her." She jerked a thumb at Anastasia.
"No. Make yourself useful. Go and nick some fruit from the kitchens. See if we can
get her working again."
"I'm thirsty, Miss. And hungry. Bring me lots of food
and drink. Girl-milk, and fizzy water, and fresh orange juice, bread pudding and cake,
doughnuts and gateaux. And fruit, if you really must."
"All right, I'm going!"
I could swear Anastasia's eyes were getting smaller, like a little piggy's. Maybe they
were just sinking into the folds of her face. Perhaps I exaggerate, but as I wheeled the
trolley back down to the restaurant to get it filled up again, I tried to work out how
much the girl had put away in the last hour and a half.
The urgent need had been to get some fluid back into her. We
had no girl-milk, of course, not during the holidays with the lactating girls all away
from St Cat's. She did guzzle down half a gallon of cow before settling down to work her
way steadily through a five-girl portion of steak and kidney pie and assorted vegetables
which the restaurant skeleton staff of two women had been saving for their own skeleton
supper.
Then there was pudding, Prince Charles's favourite bread and
butter pudding, doused in custard: enough for half a dozen average St Cat's girls or
sixteen normal adults. Then an entire cream cake, two dozen profiteroles, two five-litre
containers of orange juice, a pineapple, three pounds of seedless white grapes, a bag of
pears, a large can of fresh fruit salad with a mountain of whipped cream and a generous
helping of beans on toast.
"We want our trolley back," the skeletons had
insisted. I was taking it back for a refill.
But at least, Anastasia was back at the keyboard, staring
through her glasses with popping eyes, belching and farting ripely at intervals.
"I know what she's doing, Miss," she told me
before I left the bra facility to head for the kitchens. "She's brought Mikki forward
so she can start working on her. She couldn't do it until she'd had the twins, so she's
brought her forward. She's made her two weeks late so she'll be even bigger. How big were
her boobs, Miss?"
"About the size of beanbags, I suppose," I said,
at a loss for anything to compare them with.
Anastasia grimaced and reached for a cream cake she had
concealed under the bench. It was as big around as a steering wheel and as thick as a
couple of volumes of a typical encyclopedia. I watched, agonised, as it disappeared.
"I don't want to resort to Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast
Double-Strength Ultra Plus®, Miss, it's not natural. But if I have to, I will. I want
that Scarlet Sash."
Poor girl. And poor Michaela. It was getting close to the
time for a serious word with my friend Corinne.
"Two little girls, Miss. Aren't they lovely?"
They looked just like babies to me. I wasn't really looking
at the babies anyway. I was looking at Michaela's tits. Now I've seen some tits in my
time, and Michaela's big sister has had some of the biggest and best in the world. They'd
been pretty vast a couple of hours earlier, but they looked even bigger now. Probably
because her belly was all gone. Nurse had covered up all her rude bits with the sheets,
but had left her breasts outside the covers. As a result, there was more of Michaela
outside the covers than beneath them. Each one of those things was as big as Michaela.
The babies seemed confused. They are supposed to be able to
locate and recognise breasts and nipples and things as they lie in their mothers' loving
arms. Trouble was, when the twins lay in Michaela's loving arms, the nearest nipple was
about a yard away, well out of sniffing range.
"You'll be breast feeding them, of course," I
said, trying not to gawp too much.
"If I can get somebody to hold the babies down there,
yes. When I stand up, if I can stand up, that is, they'll be down around my ankles,
so perhaps I can put the girls on the floor and all I have to do is sort of hang my
nipples in their mouths. That might be better than having a stranger holding the babies.
Or a stranger holding my tits. Although that might be okay. Depends who it is. They're
big, aren't they, Miss?" she ended happily.
"What, the babies?"
"No, they're only nine pounds each. No, my tits. I
can't wait to get measured for a new bra. If I could get one that holds my tits straight
out in front, they'd be amazing! I mean, I'd fall over, but they'd look great. When the
milk comes in, they'll get miles bigger, too. Are there any breast boys I can borrow?
Nurse says I can't start fucking straight away, Miss. Could you have a word with her?
Pwlease!"
She pouted and turned her toes inwards under the sheets.
"I suppose so. Don't you have to wait a while? I mean,
your pussy will be all out of shape or something, won't it?" I was on shaky ground
here.
"It feels all right. A bit numb. Kind of sore, but I
often feel a bit sore after Jeremy's been shafting me all night. What's the time,
Miss?"
She had this habit of changing the subject without notice.
"About half past two."
"You'll be sleeping with him tonight, then? Give him my
love."
I hadn't even thought about it, until that moment.
"Yes, maybe I will. I'll go round and see him right
away."
It was a bit crowded in Jeremy's shed. I had really thought that when all the computer
activity had stopped for the night, and Smegs and Anastasia had yawned widely and
announced their intention of getting an early night, that we would be meeting again in the
morning.
Anastasia had waddled up to her room, tucking into a dish of
trifle. Smegs said she had better do something about locking all those Kia dolls away
somewhere secure for the night. I wandered over to the Sick Quarters to see if Michaela
had delivered her babies yet.
Half an hour later, there we all were.
Jeremy was very good about it really. When Michaela had been
whisked into the Sick Quarters, the poor lad must have heaved a sigh of relief and looked
forward to a night's rest. When Smegs arrived at his door with a bottle of red, he might
well have given a bit of a shudder but decided there were worse ways of spending the
night. He had opened a window and answered the door.
Not ten minutes later, the door had creaked open and
Anastasia had whispered piercingly into the darkness. The loving couple made room for her.
This was St Cat's, after all.
By the time I crept in, bearing glad tidings of great joy,
the three of them were hard at it in a whooping, hollering, number-shouting melee. Of
course, this being St Cat's, they made room for me.
"This bed's absolutely soaking," I complained.
"I hope you're not going to start bitching,
Chauntaille?" Smegs asked severely. "It's only love juice. You're the one who
gave poor Staze all that stuff to drink. She's squirting gallons every time now."
There was a brief hiatus or lacuna in the conversation while
Anastasia delivered another fountain.
"Michaela's had her twins, both girls," I said,
"nine pounds each."
"What, she's selling them already?" Smegs likes
her little joke.
Anastasia sniggered and spluttered with the corner of a
sheet in her mouth, then came again, even more productively than before.
"I think we'd better get out of this bed after
all," Jeremy suggested. "It is a bit damp. Let's do it on the floor. Any wine
left in that bottle, Smegs?"
"HAVE YOU noticed anything?" Smegs sat up, tugged a duvet round her
magnificently muscular shoulders and scratched herself intimately. Jeremy looked away in
embarrassment.
"Noticed what?" I said.
"Anastasia's stopped coming. Look at her."
Sure enough, Anastasia was sleeping peacefully. I covered
her undeniable bulk with a blanket. She snorted gently but didn't wake. Smegs carefully
took the girl's glasses off and gave them to Jeremy to put them somewhere safe. I never
worked out how Anastasia managed to keep her specs on through the most violent
love-making.
"I'm not surprised," Jeremy said. "She must
be shagged out. She was up to three hundred before we went to sleep."
"It wasn't her fault," I tried to explain.
"Corinne gave her the Uncontrollable Horniness. Now it looks as if she took it away
again."
"She can do that? There's an antidote? You mean Corinne
came in here in the middle of the night...?"
"No. This isn't a Sexual Chemicals thing. Corinne did
it with the computer. You know she's spending all day down in the IT lab these days?"
"I thought she had a virtual boyfriend somewhere she
was chatting to."
"No, it's far worse than that. We'll explain one day,
soon. But meanwhile, it's become possible to make changes to people by remote control. You
can protect them from changes, or you can change them, and change history, too. Corinne
knows how to do it, and so does Anastasia, but Corinne is doing things to Anastasia to
stop her."
Jeremy's eyebrows were somewhere over the back of his head.
"What's she done to her?"
"She's made her huge like this."
"But she's got huge because she's been eating so much,
and she's eating so much because she wants to be biggest, so she can be Head Girl. She
told us all that last night."
"She's eating to get bigger, and she wants to be Head
Girl, all because Corinne is manipulating her. I don't know why," I said hastily,
seeing Jeremy about to object. "But Anastasia knows. She's a very bright girl, it
seems."
"Brighter than you and me," Smegs growled.
"At least," I said, "if she's stopped having
Uncontrollable Horniness, Anastasia will be able to do something about Corinne again. It's
hard work for the poor girl — Corinne is a genius, after all — but we will win
in the end."
"You mean we have Right on our side?" Jeremy
chided.
"Something like that, yes!"
Jeremy looked at poor Anastasia again. She had turned over
and was sleeping soundly on her back, occupying a considerable area of the floor.
I felt a twinge of jealousy. "Last night. How many
times did you ...?" I inclined my head in the girl's direction.
"Me?" Jeremy's mouth fell open.
Smegs raised her eyes to the ceiling for divine inspiration.
"What did I say?" I wondered.
Smegs provided the answer. "Anastasia was in here five
minutes before I came in, and you came in five minutes after that. Not even Jeremy can see
to two horny women in ten minutes. And you, dear, have been fucking the poor boy ever
since. You've nearly worn him away to a stump. I think I preferred you when you were a
lesbian."
"What do you mean, when I was a lesbian? What do you
think I am now?"
"I don't know. You've just shagged Jeremy all night
long. You haven't even looked at me since you got back to school."
"I have, too! I think your new shape is
fantastic."
"What new shape?" Smegs stared blankly at me, then
exchanged mystified looks with Jeremy.
"All these muscles. Your chest, and thighs, and calves.
Everything."
"She hasn't changed, Shan. Megan's looked like this
ever since you were in the Fourth Form. When I first met you in Fillamore Deepleigh. I
thought at the time, if I hadn't been knobbing you, I could have fancied her. Maybe she's
a bit too tall, but I mean, where else could you find a body like that?"
"But she's only been like it for three
days!"
Smegs and Jeremy shrugged at each other. Then they looked at
me and shook their heads sadly, in unison.
"What's your bust measurement, Smegs?" I asked her
patiently.
"What it's always been. Sixty-seven inches."
"There! It's always been sixty until now. You've
always complained about only having a sixty-inch bust. For years!"
"Sixty-seven," Smegs said with quiet assurance.
"It will be in the school records. Go and see Clit."
"Clit? How can I see Clit? She's ... oooh!"
I dived for the door and got out as fast as I could.
Fortunately, I remembered to grab some clothes on the way out. I didn't want to go back in
there.
The IT lab looked quite nice with vases of flowers all over the place. I suppose if
Corinne was spending all her time down there, she would want to pretty the place up a bit.
She spun round on her revolving chair. I had to gulp.
"Cee! What's happened to you?" I pointed a wobbly
finger at her chest.
"What do you mean? I've always looked like this."
She narrowed her eyes and looked at me. "Ah, you've obviously been protected."
She stood up to show me. She was wearing a miniskirt and a tight white blouse. "What
do you think?" she said.
"Where have they gone? Your lovely breasts? You're no
bigger than a Junior girl. Smaller than most of them."
"They're still an F cup," she said, her nose in
the air. "You wouldn't believe how it feels!"
"But you're the Support and Mobility Mistress. You've
got to be bigger than an F cup!"
"I don't see why. I can still be Support and Mobility
Mistress, even if I'm smaller than the girls. I'm nicely supported." She swung her
chest from side to side. "And I'm pretty mobile, too."
That was true. They jiggled heavily, like blancmange.
"They're quite nice," I said. It was like losing
two old friends.
She must have realised how disappointed I was. "It's
only temporary," she said. "While I'm doing this job. I'm up and down between
here and the bedroom all the time. It made sense to make myself a bit smaller. I'll get
bigger again before the girls come back off their holidays. Any size you like." She
saw my expression and added hastily, "within reason, anyway. I don't want a dozen
boys carrying me round any more."
"No, you'll be saving the boys to carry Anastasia,
won't you?"
"Oh, Anastasia? How is she? I didn't realise you were
back at St Cat's."
"We came back last night. Anastasia's okay now. She's a
bit better, anyway. She's still insanely huge, but at least, she's stopped being
Uncontrollably Horny all the time."
"Oh? Has she been eating a lot, then? And getting
Uncontrollably Horny, too? Lucky girl!"
"You know quite well what she's been doing. You made
her that way. Her and Michaela."
"Michaela? How's she getting on ...?"
"Christ, Cee! How can you go on pretending you don't
know what's been happening? You've made Anastasia stuff herself with tons of food, so she
can be Head Girl and wear the Scarlet Sash. You've brought Michaela's twins forward and
made her two weeks late ...!"
"Shan! You've obviously not been getting enough sleep.
Were you shagging Jeremy last night?"
"You know perfectly well what I was doing last
night."
Corinne's expression was one of injured innocence. "Sit
down, love," she said, putting an arm around my shoulder. Her breast wobbled heavily
against my shoulder as I slumped into a chair. It was full and plump, and less than half
the size of my head. "Look. What I'm doing is necessary. I'm making a few changes
around St Cat's, but you wait. When it's all done, you won't know the place."
"That's what I'm worried about."
"Don't worry, darling!" She whispered in my ear.
"St Cat's is going to change, and you'll like the changes. You're going to be part of
it. You and me."
"You and me?"
" You and me. Just us. Not Moggie. She'll be out of it.
Megan will take a back seat. I'll make her Sports Mistress, that's why I gave her those
muscles and everything. Do you like them? I'm quite proud of her, considering she's my
first attempt at a Small Amazon."
"She looks very nice," I conceded, "but
what's this about Moggie?"
"She'll be retiring. We'll make it worth her while.
That's why I had to deal with Anastasia: she's Moggie's favourite. If Moggie had to go, so
does Anastasia. Pity, she's a sweet kid, but she's in Moggie's pocket. I won't hurt her,
just make her too big to do anything. She wants a huge bust anyway, so she'll be happy
enough."
"But, you can't ...!"
"Michaela had to have her brats in time for the kids
coming back to school after the holidays. She'll be Head Girl straight away, of course.
Even without the milk, that's a bonus. But to be on the safe side, her bust has to be
bigger than Anastasia's without the milk. Anyway, where was I? I'll be Headmistress, of
course, and you'll be my Deputy. We'll have a word with the School Governors ..."
"It will need more than just a word. They provide all
the money that keeps St Cat's going. They only do it for Moggie. If she retires, all the
funds go, too. We can't go on without Moggie."
"They only give her money because she fucks them. We'll
still get the money. The School Governors just want sex. Shit, we've got sex by the
barrow-load. Look at the girls we've got. If the School Governors are paying fifty grand a
year for Moggie's favours, they'll cough up with a million when we offer them the
girls."
"You're mad!"
That seemed to strike home. Corinne let go of my shoulder
and went for a prowl round the lab. "I expected a bit of gratitude," she pouted.
"I thought you were my bestest friend. Or more than that." She came closer and
stood there, near enough for me to reach out and touch her.
Fight it, Shan. Can you really love this woman?
She took my outstretched hand and perched herself lightly on
my knee. She had to move my breast off my lap first. "Why are you wearing a filthy
dustcoat, Shan?" she asked softly.
"I got it from Jeremy's shed," I said, noticing
for the first time what I was wearing. "Look, Cee. I'm sure you think you're doing
all this for the best, but it's too much to take in all at once. Getting rid of Moggie,
making yourself Headmistress ..."
"... and making you my Deputy ..."
"... all the things you're doing to Staze and Mikki.
It's all too much."
"You used to love me, Shannie!"
"I still do love you, Cee. But I don't think I like you
very much any more. Not at the moment. We've got to talk about all this. Before it goes
any further. It's probably gone too far already."
"Too far? I've only just started, babe! You wait!"
I wasn't waiting. I stood up and dumped Corinne off my knee
on to the floor. To my surprise, I realised I'd always wanted to do that. A pity she
didn't still have a twenty-foot bust, that would have really made a satisfying thump. Even
as it was, she landed quite heavily. Obviously Corinne wasn't yet used to her newly
revised centre of gravity. She looked up at me with a pained and hurt expression.
"Shannie!"
Too late. I was gone.
I went in search of Michaela. What had Corinne done to her? Apart from the almost
instant twins.
"She's not here," said Nurse. "They don't
stay five minutes these days. They just have their babies and leave straight away."
"Where did she go?"
"The dorm, I suppose. All her clothes are there. Where
else would she go. Although I don't suppose her clothes would fit her any more. Her
boobies got a bit huge."
"Only a bit huge?"
"Well, no. Fucking huge, actually. Like her big sister.
Only bigger."
"Bigger than Miss Meadowlark?" I narrowed my eyes
and looked at Nurse. "How big is Miss Meadowlark now?"
Nurse gaped at me. "You should know. You sleep with the
bitch! She's bigger than you, still. Beanbag sized, I suppose. Michaela's about twice as
big!"
"You haven't seen Corinne for a day or two, then?"
"I don't want to, love. She gives me the willies. She's
not the nice girl she used to be when she first came here."
"I'll go and find Michaela," I said. "Poor
girl, wandering around with two brand new babies and nobody to look after her."
"What are you on about? She only went to the dorm to
collect her clothes and stuff. Her dad came and took her away. In a taxi."
"Her dad? Strange. Corinne never talked about her
parents. Did you see the taxi?"
"I don't have time to look out for taxis every five
minutes. I've got my patients to consider."
"But ...!" The place was empty. Patients?
"Was it Jonesy's taxi?"
"Shit knows. Probably."
"Gee, thanks, Nurse!"
She had turned Michaela out without so much as a
by-your-leave, into the hands of the biggest little pervert for miles around. Ezekiel
Jones.
Ezekiel Jones shook his head vigorously, but failed to loosen the bonds that held him
rigidly in his chair. The ropes cut into his wrists and ankles. The sticky tape across his
mouth felt wet and clammy with his condensing breath.
"You're a naughty boy, Mr Jones," Michaela chided
him, wagging an admonitory finger. "If you're going to watch, you'll have to stop
wriggling. Now, if you're good, I'll pull your little plonker for you again, after I've
fed the girls. Are you going to watch quietly like a good little boy?"
Ezekiel Jones nodded as vigorously as he could. His manhood
joggled up and down in sympathy. Michaela wiped the tip of it thoughtfully with a
red-nailed finger which she transferred to her sweet little mouth. Mr Jones closed his
eyes and prayed to his Maker. This was worse than being back in the valleys with the
feisty teenage daughters of Incest Davies.
"Right, then. Feeding time. I'll go and fetch the
twins."
And as Ezekiel Jones goggled helplessly at her, she hoisted
her mammoth breasts up to about waist level. Fortunately, they were more or less contained
in a pale grey crocheted silk jumper, which seemed to be made predominantly of holes.
Hoisting them up was not a good idea. It revealed the fact that Michaela was wearing
nothing below the waist but a pair of skimpy panties, which hugged her generously curved
bottom.
Ezekiel Jones cried out and shuddered in a totally
spontaneous and unrehearsed orgasm. Simultaneously, there came a great clap of thunder as
the Good Lord showed his extreme displeasure. It was like the book of Revelation all over
again, he thought. "Well, I've 'ad a good life, on the 'ole," he muttered, as
darkness descended.
It started to rain as I plodded along the path through the woods. With my tits, it's
hard enough balancing at the best of times, without trying to stay upright on a slippery,
muddy pathway. In no time, my shirt was soaked, so was my bra, right through to the skin.
Even my jeans were drenched and clinging to my legs.
The crack of thunder scared seven shades of shit out of me.
Not literally, of course, although at that moment I couldn't be too sure of anything. I
sat down with a thump. It reminded me of when I had dumped Corinne on the floor earlier.
My tits were probably ten times as big as hers at the moment, so they nearly came plunging
and bursting out of my top.
"Oh, fuck it!" I said with feeling. Sitting there
in the mud, the rain pouring in drenching streams off the trees and down my neck, I gave
serious consideration as to whether to go on or go back. 'Makes no difference now,' I
thought. It was, indeed, going to take as long to get back to the school as it would take
to get to Mr Jones's garage in the village. Painfully, I scrambled to my feet and pressed
on.
Things weren't too bad after that. I only slipped over three
more times in the next ten minutes. Before I knew where I was, I had emerged from the
woods into the winding main street. A light gleamed welcomingly through the sheeting rain
and gloom. It was the sign that read:
EZEKIEL JONES
Taxi's
"Burials" & Wedding's
Feeling like a drowned rat, I pounded on the door.
Almost simultaneously, there was another clap of thunder,
and all the lights went out.
"COME IN, look yew. It's young Miss Gruntworthy, from St Cat's, isn't it? Mr Jones
ain't yerr at the moment."
I hadn't even known that Mr Jones had any children. This one
was a young man, about nineteen or so. Oddly enough, his face was black as coal. In fact,
I saw as we passed the window, it was coal. He was covered from head to foot in
coal dust. He was wearing one of those helmets with a lamp on it. Every way he turned his
head, a pool of light flickered around in front of him. He looked at me, and I was
instantly dazzled.
"Who are you?" I asked him.
"Me? I's Moc Morgan. Zeke's butty, isn't it."
From that, I gathered that he was a friend of Mr Jones, a Mr
Morgan.
"Is there a girl here? A St Cat's girl? Big, with two
babies?" I demonstrated how big, using my hands, and Moc's eyes sparkled lecherously
through the coal dust. "Why are you carrying a canary in a cage?" I asked him,
curious.
"It's the gas. We always carries a bird. They smells
the gas down yerr. If there's gas, the bird falls over."
"That's horrible! And what about the question I asked
you? Is there a girl here?"
"Big girl, you say? Yuge titties, you mean.
Blonde." He held out a hand at the height of the top of Michaela's head.
"That's her. Where is she?"
"Feedin' the babies. I aren't allowed in there, case I
shags 'er. Duw, there's right randy I yam, isn't it?"
Surely not even Welshmen talked like that in real life?
"Where. You've got to show me. In here?" I opened a door and stepped into the
darkness. I came out again into the kitchen.
"That's a cupboard, luvvie," said Moc. "Young
Mikki's through there. In the music room." He pointed the way. I could hear hesitant
notes coming from a piano. Not a tune, as far as I could tell, but just handfuls of notes,
as if someone was sitting on the keyboard.
Michaela was sitting on the keyboard of a slightly
familiar-looking grand piano. She appeared to have got her figure back. That was the first
thing I noticed, but over the next few seconds, I noticed so many things, I began to
wonder whether I had noticed them at all.
As I say, Michaela had her figure back after the twins. When
I say that, I mean she didn't have that enormous belly on her any more. Well, she wouldn't
have, really, would she? I don't know how small her waist had been before the babies, but
if its present size was anything to go by, I must have been tiny before, because it was
extremely small now.
Her bottom wasn't exactly small, in fact, for a girl only
four feet six tall, especially one with such a tiny, slim waist, her bum could accurately
be described as shamefully large. Shameful. It covered a substantial area of the piano
keyboard, and as she moved, great clusters of notes rang out.
"Hello, Miss!" she said brightly. "Fancy
seeing you up here."
"I came to find you. Nurse said she'd thrown you out to
fend for yourself."
"Not exactly, Miss. Mr Jones is looking after me. He
seems to have disappeared at the moment." She looked slightly puzzled, but she was
busy, so she obviously wasn't paying too much attention to the problem of disappearing
Welsh garagistes.
She was busy all right, feeding the twins. And it was then
that I finally took in the rest of the scene. Michaela was standing almost upright. She
was resting her fat bottom on the keyboard, but she was still more or less standing erect.
The twins were sucking on her nipples. I saw that she had found a way of feeding her
offspring. It was a bit dark in the room, but it seemed to involve the use of two small
schoolgirls.
It was no use. The scene was too, too bizarre. I had to sit
down to take it all in. Let my eyes become accustomed to the darkness.
"She keeps doing things to Ezekiel Jones," Anastasia frowned and scratched
her head. "Why is she messing about with him all the time?"
Smegs stared at the screen. "I can't make it out at
all. Are you sure it's just him she's changing?"
"It looks like it. I've checked the patterns for
everyone else. Miss Gruntworthy is protected, wherever she is: so are we. Michaela isn't,
but I can't see that there have been any changes made to her for some time. Miss
Meadowlark's doing something, 'cos the lights keep flickering."
"What was the last change that happened to
Michaela?" Smegs asked.
"It looks like the babies. She had the babies early.
There's a record of that here." Anastasia ran a finger down the screen with a little
scratching noise. "Since then, nothing. Ezekiel Jones is six months older than he was
before. A little while ago, he was a year older than that. God knows why."
"She's devious, Staze. I think she's found a new way of
changing things without us knowing." Smegs tapped the page down key and shook her
head. "What's this line here? Feed twins ... and a whole load of times?"
"I suppose it's something about the babies. Since
Michaela has never fed twins before, it sets out the times she has to feed them."
"Why can't she let Nature take care of it? It works
with most mothers and children."
"You tell me, you're the teacher. I'm only a
girl." Anastasia looked tired. She rested a few of her chins in her hands. "I
want to go to sleep, Miss."
It was every bit as bizarre as it had looked. As my eyes gradually accommodated to the
gloom, I could see that two young girls, like First Formers, were sitting cross-legged on
the floor, each holding one of Michaela's babies. The schoolgirls appeared to be twins as
well, at least, they were dressed alike, in T-shirts and shorts, and both had long blonde
hair.
Even though Michaela was standing up, her breasts reached
down to below her knees. I don't think this looks very tidy on a young girl, somehow.
Breasts should descend to a girl's pussy or thighs, any further is ugly-looking and
unnecessary.
All sorts of sucking and contented gurgling noises were
coming up from the floor. The babies were evidently getting their fill.
"Who are those two?" I asked Michaela.
She giggled. "You mean you don't recognise them? You
are funny, Miss!"
Just at that moment, the lights flickered and came back on.
The little girls looked up at me. "Hello, Auntie
Shannie!" they fluted, in perfect unison.
"Aaaagh!" The kids were truly identical.
They looked up at me wide-eyed, evidently waiting for an answer to their greeting.
"You don't recognise them, do you. I know they've grown
up a lot, but you still ought to recognise your own godchildren."
"My WHAT?"
"Candy and Mandy. Your godchildren. Say hello to Auntie
Chauntaille, Candy."
"Hello Auntie Chauntaille."
"Say hello to Auntie Chauntaille, Mandy."
"Hello, Auntie Chauntaille."
There was no way of telling them apart. They looked somehow
familiar. There was milk all over their shirts, their faces, in their hair.
"We're all wet," they said with one voice.
"Auntie Mikki's so messy, she sprays all over the place."
"Auntie ...? You mean they're ...?"
"My nieces, of course. You didn't think they were mine,
did you? Gosh, Miss! They're nearly ten! How could I have had them? I'm not a slut, you
know. They're Corinne's. She had them when she was twelve. Corinne was really a horny
disgusting little slut when she was twelve."
"Corinne? Babies? Twins?" I sat down. My bum was
still sore from falling down on the way here.
The girls disconnected the babies from Michaela's
still-dribbling teats, lowering the massive floppers carefully to the floor. Michaela
gently shifted the position of her bottom, bringing a plangent chord from the piano. The
babies were now lying in two matching cribs, coo-ing gently.
"Can we have a drink, now, Auntie Mikki, please? You've
still got plenty left."
Michaela did. Her breasts lay in two spreading puddles on
the floor. "You can't be thirsty again, you two. You had a bellyfull at the last
feed.
Candy and Mandy were thirsty, it seemed. They leaped
up and down in front of Michaela, droplets of milk flying from their faces and bouncing
hair. Their hair wasn't the only thing that was bouncing, either, I noticed, with a
feeling of hopelessness. As well as the Meadowlark trademark blonde hair and cute little
noses, the twins undoubtedly had the other Meadowlark feature. They stopped hopping up and
down. Several seconds later, their breasts — jiggling heavily inside their
milk-soaked T-shirts — had still not come to a halt, and they restrained them with
both hands.
"All right, then." Michaela was flushed and
dewy-eyed as she watched the two little girls instantly get down on the floor.
"Oooh!" she said. "Woo-woo-woo!" She began to quiver all over, from
one end to the other. "Woo-woo-woo-WHOOSH!"
"Oh, bloody hell, Mikki!" I scolded her.
"I'm coming again, Miss," Michaela announced
happily, amid a jangling glissando from her bottom. "Gosh, I'm so wet,
Miss!"
There are some things I would rather not hear. Then there
came two more things I would rather not hear.
"Woo-woo-woo-WOW!" howled both twins,
together. Who had taught them to say that? "We're so wet, Auntie
Shannie," they fluted. "We always get wet when we're sucking on Auntie
Mikki."
"Auntie Milky," said Candy, or was it Mandy.
I made an excuse and left in a hurry. Something seemed to
get in the way of the door as I opened it. As I swept out of the house, I saw Moc Morgan
clutching at his eye, which was already swelling to an impressive purple egg.
"How could you, Cee? Twins, when you were only twelve!"
"Oooh, I was a horny little bitch, Shannie. You
wouldn't have liked me at all. Or maybe you would. Anyway, do you like Candy and Mandy?
Aren't they little darlings? Long blonde hair, little cute noses, lovely big tits for
their age. I shouldn't be surprised if they grew up to be bigger than Michaela and
me."
"Especially if they keep slurping Mikki's milk by the
gallon."
"Are they? Oh, good. I'm so glad they like milk."
"Look, Corinne," I said doggedly. "You can't
go around giving yourself babies."
"I can! I have, haven't I? This is the best way
of doing it. None of the unpleasantness. Ready-made families. Do you want one?"
"Want one what?"
"A daughter. They're all girls, all the kids I've made.
I don't know why. The other strange thing is that they're all quite buxom. I think that's
the word for it. They've all got big tits. You wait until you see your sister!"
"My WHAT?" I felt for a chair.
"You've got a sister. It must have been the
Uncontrollable Horniness at Fillamore Deepleigh. Your Mum had a baby when you were
fourteen. They think it was your Dad's, but still. You should see the tits on the kid. I
think I may have got something wrong. All the kids I've given people, and not a single boy
yet."
"How many have you produced, for crying out loud?"
"Oh, only a couple of hundred, so far. Three hundred,
maybe. Not too many."
The enormity of what Corinne had just told me began to sink
in.
"How is Mother taking it? Suddenly finding herself with
a ten-year old daughter?"
Corinne shrugged. "It's hardly sudden. She's had ten
years to get used to it. She's always had it. You're the only one who doesn't know about
it, and you'll soon get used to it when you've been home and met the kid."
"But I've just been home. I was there yesterday. There
was no kid there then."
"You haven't been home. You went to Anastasia's
parents' house, remember?"
"I can't believe I'm hearing this. I was with
Anastasia. We were both at my place. Anastasia was trying to get into my Dad's pants, or
maybe it was the other way round."
"Wrong. You and Staze were at her place, and you spent
the whole time in bed with her Dad. You're lucky you're not pregnant, the way you were
going at it. Hammer and tongs, it was. You could still have a daughter if you wanted
one," Corinne ended wistfully.
"Who else have you sired daughters on?" I
demanded.
"Nobody important. A few of the Senior girls. Mostly
girls' Mums. There's method in my madness, Shannie. The girls are about the right age for
St Cat's, or a bit younger. We should be okay for the next couple of years. A steady
stream of busty young girls coming along. Since they're mostly younger sisters of girls
who are already here, their parents will automatically send them along as well. The school
will be guaranteed all those fees without any of the begging letters Moggie used to send
out. I gave Moggie a daughter, too. A couple, in fact. And another on the way."
"Moggie! But she's not married."
"God, you're so old fashioned, Shan. You sleep with
students' fathers for ninety-six hours solid, then you complain because our
ex-Headmistress has three daughters out of wedlock. You should see her eldest one, if you
like big tits ..." Corinne idly traced a little circle round her nipple with a
finger. I found myself wondering if her areola was still as big as it used to be in the
good old days. At their biggest, each had been a couple of feet in diameter. Clearly, they
couldn't be that big now, but were they still as large in proportion to the size of her
breasts?
"Come on, Shannie," she urged me again. "Have
a daughter. I'll have another one with you. Two busty little girls! They could be friends.
One short and blonde, the other one nicely medium and brunette. We could dress them in
tight little T-shirts and jeans. They'd have taut little bottoms. Or taut big ones, if you
like ..."
"Cee. I do not want a daughter."
"Suit yourself," she sighed. "I know you'd
enjoy having one. It's completely painless. Not that you'd need to worry about that, with
the size of your love-cavern. Still. I'll be able to make plenty more once I start Phase
Two of my programme."
"Phase Two?" I was filled with a nameless dread.
"A few hundred girls is only Phase One. Once I've
perfected it, I will be mass-producing girls. There are one or two adjustments to make
first. I've got their physical characteristics about right. They're all drop-dead
gorgeous, and they look as if they'll all have gigantic boobs when they finish growing.
All I have to do now is make sure their IQ reaches the right standard. At the moment, it
seems to vary between 185 and 90. That's too wide a spread. Once that's tightened up a
bit, I'll be ready to go into volume production. A few more months, and the country will
be populated with bright, beautiful, big-breasted girls who in just a few more short years
will be ready to take over the whole world. We'll be in charge of them, of course. You and
me!"
It was no use. I marched out of the IT lab and slammed the
door behind me. I met a man in the corridor, just inside the main double doors leading to
the car park.
"Delivery for yer? Name of Mahntins?"
"Mountains? Up those stairs. Round the corner and on
the left. Follow your nose."
"Christ, lady, you've got some tits on yer!"
"Gosh, yes. Do you know, I'd never noticed!"
Appalling man.
There was a thumping on the door.
"Come in, Shan!"
"Ay? It ain't Shan. Delivery for yer. Are you
Mahntins?"
"Mountains, yes. What is it?"
"Christ, you've got a set o' tits on yer, missus."
Anastasia raised her weary head from the keyboard of the
laptop and yawned widely. The lights flickered and she was instantly awake, hammering at
the keys.
"Christ, girl, yours are even bigger!"
Anastasia blushed prettily.
"What are you delivering?" Smegs asked the man.
"Thahsand boxes from Korea. Aht in me van. Where'dja
wannum?"
"Don't bother carrying them all up here. Leave them in
the room on the right at the bottom of the stairs. The one with the names on the door.
Corinne Meadowlark and Chauntaille Gruntworthy. Come up when you've got them all inside
and I'll sign for them."
The driver grumbled but went out. "Christ," he
said, looking back into the room. "You've got some tits on yer, you two."
"Aren't you going to check them?" Anastasia said,
staring hard at the screen and typing assiduously.
"Hardly worth it. They'll be gone by morning, and
replaced by grand pianos."
"Shit!" Anastasia grimaced. "She's after Miss
Gruntworthy."
"Who, Corinne?"
"Yeah. She's still protected at the moment, but if she
gets too far away, I may not be able to keep her protected. Miss Meadowlark is trying to
get at her pattern for some reason. I don't know what she wants to do with her."
Out there in the quadrangle, three trawlermen were struggling with nets and floats in
the fountain. A woman was walking in my direction with a baby buggy, one of those big wide
ones that hold two babies at the same time. She was surrounded by children from about ten
years old downwards. I tried to count them but there were far too many. She came closer.
"Nurse? Is that you?"
"Who did you think it would be, with all these
kids?" She stopped, and snapped her fingers at several of the children. They were all
girls, I realised with a sinking feeling. Some of the older ones, quite obviously older,
very obviously female, were talking to the trawlermen, wiggling their bodies in a truly
disgusting manner.
What can one say on these occasions? "Are these all
yours?" I asked her.
Nurse glared at me. "Fuck off!" she snapped, and
gathering half of her daughters around her, she set off for the sick quarters. Two of the
bigger girls flounced past me in her wake, deliberately jiggling their fat, pendulous tits
from side to side as they stuck out their little pink tongues at me.
'You wait,' I thought. 'Just you wait 'til you little
bastards are old enough to start at St Cat's.'
Jeremy was doing something with a big chunk of new white wood. He grinned in a nervous
way, as if he was afraid I was going to drag him into his bed for a few hours of
screaming, howling, sheet-drenching sex. The bed looked very tempting, but I resisted the
desires of my steaming loins and spoke with only the faintest tremble in my voice.
"Where was I yesterday, before I came back to St Cat's
with Anastasia?"
For some reason, Jeremy looked at me strangely.
"You went home for a few days."
My heart leapt with hope. "Whose home? Mine, or
Anastasia's?"
He looked surprised. "You never said. I assumed it was
yours. You don't know Anastasia's parents all that well, do you?"
'Probably better than you think,' I thought. "So we
went to Fillamore Deepleigh. You've lived there all your life, haven't you?"
"You know I have. What are you on about?"
"My younger sister. What do you think of her?"
"She's a bit young for me, Shan," he replied
straight away.
'Damn, damn, damn,' I thought. 'She exists.'
"But she's going to be a right little cracker when she
grows up. I mean when she grows up, of course. She's grown out already! What's up? You
worrying about the competition?"
"Something like that, yes. Look, have you got a minute?
Well, maybe an hour or so?"
Jeremy picked up his plane or whatever it's called, and made
a few hasty strokes along his chunk of wood. "I'm a bit busy, right now. It's not
that I don't want to, but I have to get this new door frame fitted in the Junior dorm
before the girls come back. Moggie's orders."
"I don't want sex, Jeremy. Well, I do, but I want to
tell you something. It's a long story. It's about all the funny things that have been
happening round here this holiday. All the lights flashing, and Michaela's twins.
Corinne's twins, too, and my sister. It's complicated, and it will take a long time, but I
need your help."
"Can you tell me while I finish this door frame? You
can come over to the dorm block and help me fit it, too. It's a bugger. I can't use my
power tools with the power going on and off the way it has been. We even had the
electricity company in to have a look at it, and they couln't find anything wrong."
"Okay, carry on with your work. But you're going to
have to pay attention. It's a long story, and some of it doesn't make much sense."
"I don't expect sense from you, Shan, you know
that."
I nearly forgot all my good intentions and dragged him into
bed to give him a good seeing-to, but I fought it off. "I'll put the kettle on,"
I said. "This is going to need a cup of coffee."
"I'D BETTER wash up all these mugs," I said, standing up. It had taken two
hours to tell the story. Jeremy sat there, looking stunned; his door-frame forgotten.
"As long as you're not just putting off the evil
moment. Shan, you've got to see her straight away, before you change your mind."
I gathered up the mugs in both hands. "I'll still do
the washing up. Have we really drunk four mugs of coffeee each? No wonder my head's
spinning."
"So's mine. But it's not the coffee. I can't get my
head round that story. All these brand new daughters, you mean they're all Corinne's
doing?"
I dunked the mugs in the bowl and scrubbed away at them
hard. "She asked me to have a daughter, too. She said she'd have another
herself to keep me company. And my sister! How could she do such a thing? My own mother!
Mother always said I would be the last child she ever had."
"I can see her point, love."
I treated that remark with the contempt it deserved. I lined
up the mugs on their hooks.
"Right," Jeremy said. "Are you ready? Go and
get it over with."
"I wish you were coming with me to hold my hand."
"It wouldn't work, would it. Go and see Corinne, tell
her it's got to stop. Then come back here afterwards." He stroked my hair.
"Even if it's late?"
"Especially if it's late! And Shan. If you ever want a
daughter, don't go to Corinne. Come and see me."
"It doesn't have to be a girl, does it? Couldn't we
have a little boy like you?"
"A little boy it is, then. Like me."
"Little?" He seemed to be getting bigger by the
second.
"What do you expect with those things squashed against
me?"
"Why do I put up with you, you toad? Promise you'll do
one thing for me. Go and find Anastasia. She'll be upstairs, in Smegs's room. Ask her to
protect you."
"Anastasia? Protect me?"
"Protect your pattern. She'll know what you mean. It
won't hurt. It will stop anything happening to you to make you forget what I've told you.
Promise?"
"Okay. I don't know what you're talking about, but I'll
go straight away."
"So, you changed your mind, love?" Corinne looked up from the monitor. She
looked bright-eyed, but artificial, somehow.
"I don't want one of your horrid little girls. And I
just told Jeremy everything."
"Everything? You told the caretaker everything?
I hope he understood more than one word in twenty."
"He understands enough. He knows about my sister —
whatever her stupid name is. Or rather, he doesn't. He knows nothing about her. There's
nothing to know. He's seen her round the village. He knows how big her tits are, but
that's all. There isn't anything else to know. She's just a pair of tits. Apart from
those, she's a cardboard cut-out."
"He doesn't know her very well. He's spent all his time
here since she was a little kid."
"She never was a kid! There's nothing about her to
know. She's ... empty. Like your twins. Who ever heard of twins called Candy and
Mandy?"
"I didn't have much time. I'll give them proper names
later. We could sit down and think of some nice names ..."
"They're empty, Cee! They're not even separate girls.
They look identical. They say the same things. I bet you don't know which is which, and
you're their mother."
"I'll get around to it. They'll be okay when I've had a
chance to work on them. I only created them yesterday. Give me a chance, they'll be lovely
little girls. Well, lovely big girls. What about the tits on those two ...?"
"They're not going to be anything, Cee! You're going to
zap them. You're going to zap all the new daughters you've ... created. It's got to stop.
You can't play at being God any more."
"I'm not playing God. I'm not playing anything. This is
a brilliant invention. We can't just uninvent it now."
"We can stop abusing it. We can make it work for Good.
What you're doing is Evil."
Corinne pouted. "You don't love me any more!"
"I do. I love Jeremy, too. But right now, like I told
you, I don't like you very much."
Corinne slumped in her seat, her eyes filling instantly with
tears. "You don't?"
I said nothing. If she thought she could get round me just
by turning on the waterworks, she had another think coming. It was hard to believe that
this woman could be turned into such a creature, simply by placing a weapon like this
system in her hands. She had been presented with almost infinite power, the power of life
and death.
Apparently without realising what she was doing, she was
hitting a key and scrolling up and down the screen. "All this? We can't just throw it
away. All the work I've done ..."
"All these babies you've made, at a single stroke of
your finger? And ..." a terrible thought occurred to me, "what you did to Clit,
as well!"
"Oh, that?" She looked quite pleased with herself.
"I thought I did pretty well, actually."
"You did pretty well? You little bitch! You drove her
mad, then you killed her as surely as if you had stuck a knife in her back and pulled the
trigger."
"I did not!" She sounded deeply offended. "In
fact, when she went to see her poor old mother, she arrived too late by ten minutes. So I
changed a few things."
"Uh?"
"Clit phoned that night, horribly upset. She'd tried to
get in touch with you, but you were off somewhere. So she spoke to me. She said she'd
arrived at the hospital too late; her mother had already died. I told her I'd call her
back in a few minutes. Well, I thought about bringing her mother back to life again, but
that sort of thing gets a bit complicated. So I did the next best thing. I made Clit
arrive at the hospital twenty minutes earlier."
"You did that? And it worked?"
"Sort of. Clit was permanently protected by some bug or
other. She still is. It will need sorting out when she gets back. Anyway, she put the
phone down and went back into the room, and sat down next to her mother's bed. The old
dear died holding Clit's hand."
"Oh, Cee!"
"Clit was a bit confused, of course. She called me back
and said there must have been some mistake: the hospital had told her her mother had died,
but they had meant somebody else's Mum. Clit had been there at the end: she made it in
time, after all. She's coming back after the funeral."
"Poor old Clit," I said. "I thought ... I
thought ...!"
"We can't change everything back, you know? Some of it
is irreversible."
"We'll talk about it tomorrow, Cee."
She gestured weakly at the screen. "It will take ages.
All that work." The lights flickered briefly. "Shit! What was that?" she
said feebly.
"It was Anastasia, protecting Jeremy. I told him to get
it done."
Corinne suddenly looked tiny and helpless. "You've
thought of everything."
"I hope so. There's a lot to think of. I'm sorry,
Cee."
"You'll be all right, now, Jeremy," said Anastasia. "I've protected you.
You can go back to your shed. Is Miss Gruntworthy there?"
Jeremy looked startled. "Not yet."
"She will be, soon. Take care of her. Have a nice
night."
We did.
"Well, if that didn't make a little baby boy, I don't
what will," Jeremy gasped, as the quadrangle clock struck nine the next morning.
"Make us some coffee, sweetheart."
"Woo-woo-woo," I suggested, more from force of
habit than anything else. I had been saying more or less nothing else all night.
"Woo-woo-WOW!"
"How many is that?"
"I lost count round about the seven thousand
mark," I sighed, lying back in a delicious haze. "What shall we call him?"
"We'll think of something. We've got nine months.
Anyway, it might be a girl. Or twins!"
That reminded me. Today was the day of reckoning. So many
things to sort out. There was Candy and Mandy, and my sister, whose name I didn't even
know yet, and Clit, and Michaela and Anastasia. Then there was Moggie and her family, and
Ezekiel Jones, and Moc Morgan, whoever he was, and Nurse. And all the other five hundred
or so daughters sprinkled about the countryside by Corinne.
I pulled the sheets over my head and wrapped my arms around
Jeremy's hard body. He was ready for me yet again, and despite his outrageous size, he
slid in without touching the sides. Not for the first time, I wondered why Nature had
bothered making me quite so huge down there.
"Oh, darling! Woo-woo-woo!"
There was a pounding on the door of the shed. Jeremy and I stopped what we were doing,
more or less immediately. Actually, he stopped first: I was about twenty seconds later.
He had already shouted, "Come in," while I was
still finishing."
It was Corinne. She picked her way through the clutter of
Jeremy's living quarters with an expression of distaste on her face. Her unsupported
breasts thrust arrogantly at her almost transparent white blouse, answering my recent
unspoken question. Yes, her areolae were still in proportion to the new size of her
breasts. They were darker than before, but I now supposed that had occurred ten years ago,
when she was feeding the twins. Thinking of the twins reminded me of the task which
stretched before us today.
"Are you coming, Shannie?" Somehow, she asked the
question with a perfectly straight face.
Jeremy was clinging to me as if in terror. I stroked his
back and hugged him closer. "It's all right, darling," I whispered. "She
won't hurt you. You're protected." He didn't seem too sure. "Stay there while
Mummie gets up and gets dressed."
"We don't have to do it today, Shannie," Corinne
said. "We've got another two days before the girls come back to school. You can stay
in bed with Jeremy."
I was already up, making my way squelchily into the shower.
"Don't leave me, Shan!" Jeremy bleated.
"You'd better come in here with me, then," I said.
"Stay there," Corinne said firmly. "I'll open
the windows and make some coffee. It smells like a whorehouse in here."
I wondered how she knew.
Anastasia perched on a stool gazing at Corinne. Corinne gawped at Anastasia. The girl
was crowded optimistically into one of Michaela's most pregnant pregnant smocks. It did a
reasonable job, as far as it went, but thanks to the difference in height between owner
and wearer, it stopped short.
"Haven't you got a bra, Staze?" I asked her
severely.
"Not until Miss Clit comes back," she said.
"Why?"
"Your tits have fallen out of the bottom of your dress
again. At least, they cover up your pussy, which is something."
"Sorry, Miss. I tried to get my Army stuff on, but it's
all too small. That was the largest size they make, too. I'm a bit bigger than most
soldiers. A lot bigger now."
Corinne blushed and looked down at the floor.
"I'm sorry, Staze," she said unhappily. "It
was all my fault."
"No, Miss. I ate too much, trying to get to be Head
Girl. I can't be Head Girl anyway. I'm too fat for the Scarlet Sash." She hung her
head in dejection.
The party was dying on its feet. "We've got work to
do," I told them. "Did you give Anastasia a print-out of all these daughters
you've made?"
"It's okay, Miss. I already found them last night,
while you were fucking."
"And you understand what Miss Meadowlark has
done?"
"Of course, Miss."
"Course she does, Shan. She's better at this than
me!" Corinne shook her head as she looked at Anastasia again. "The girl is
brilliant. I've got a far more powerful machine here than she has, and sometimes I would
work for an hour to make some small change to history. Then as soon as I'd done it, the
lights would flicker, and I'd see that she'd made a tiny alteration to one parameter, and
everything I'd done was no good."
"It's easy to do that, Miss. I just sat and watched you
until I spotted a routine I could trash with one little entry. As soon as you hit the
button, I could step in and spoil everything. But you're terrific, Miss Meadowlark, the
way you made all those new girls was sheer poetry!"
Corinne blushed prettily. So did Anastasia. They gazed at
each other with such animal lust I was beginning to get wet myself. If we started an orgy
now, we'd never get any work done today. It was afternoon already.
"Come on, you two," I ordered them sharply. They
removed their tongues from each other's throats, broke apart and looked at me in surprise.
"We need your brain power to work together for a change. I've made a list. First,
Moggie. That's Miss Thunderbolt, Anastasia."
"I know."
"Corinne gave her a whole bunch of kids and one on the
way. We have to get rid of them."
"Abort a child?" Corinne and Anastasia gasped in
horrified unison.
"What's the matter?"
"It won't work. I already tried with Michaela."
Corinne admitted.
"So did I," said Anastasia, ashamedly. "The
system won't let you abort a child once it's been conceived. That means after it's started
growing inside your tummy, Miss."
"Thank you. I know what conceived means." I ought
to after last night and this morning.
Corinne explained. "All we can do is bring the birth
forward. That's what I did with Michaela. Once the baby has been born, you can zap it, but
it causes so much hassle, you'd never believe! That's why I'm not looking forward to
zapping all my daughters."
"I think you'd just end up transferring them to other
mothers, Miss. You can't actually get rid of them, as such."
"But what about you?" I pointed at Anastasia.
"You were pregnant, but you're not now."
"False alarm, Miss."
"Phantom pregnancy," Corinne confirmed.
It struck me that they were making the rules up as they went
along. "So Moggie will come back in two days time with a great pregnant belly?"
"No, she won't come back at all," said Corinne.
"Didn't I tell you? I got a letter this morning. She's resigned. She said she wants
to spend more time with her family."
"So, we haven't got a Headmistress?"
"Yes, we have. You!"
"Me?" I squeaked. "I can't be Headmistress of
St Catherine's High School for Growing Girls."
"I don't see why not," Corinne said. "I'll be
here to help you, and with a genius for a Head Girl ..."
"Michaela's not a genius."
"Michaela's not Head Girl. She said she wants to spend
more time with her family. Anastasia will do it."
"Oooh, Miss!" Anastasia squealed in ecstasy and
came in a drenching little spray down her legs. Either that, or she had pissed herself.
Corinne and I waited for confirmation. No number came from Anastasia. She had pissed
herself. It must have been a wonderful moment for her.
"We'll make you not quite so fat, love," Corinne
said, "so you'll be able to get the Scarlet Sash round your middle. You might need
another couple of feet or so on the bust. Can you handle that?"
Anastasia pissed herself again. "Fifty-eight!" she
announced, which confused us both. "The last time wasn't an orgasm, Miss," she
explained. "I lost control of my bladder for a moment."
Anastasia has an unfortunate way with words sometimes.
"I'm going to introduce a new school rule," I said
grandly. "No more orgasm counting. Girls will be allowed to come discreetly. What a
St Cat's girl does in her panties is a matter for her and the underwear collection
service."
"Bravo, Miss!"
"Well done, Shannie!"
"What about Smegs?" The question came to me like a
sudden chilling blow.
"What about her?"
"She's senior to me. She ought to be the new
Headmistress."
"Make her your Deputy. She has plenty of experience in
the post. She always knows what to do."
"But I'm scared of her. She'd go mad if I became her
new boss."
"She could always get another job, Shannie. Give her
the sack."
"I can't. I love her too much."
"Her, too? You can't be a Headmistress and love
everybody."
"Yes, she can, Miss." Anastasia looked at us
eagerly. "We can have a new school rule that everyone has to love everyone else. Or
else."
"It wouldn't work. You can't order people to love each
other."
Anastasia waved casually at the monitor. "There's no
such word as can't," she said.