Part XIII

Chapter 37:- Horny Alliance

IT WAS hard to say if things were going well or not. So far, I had discovered that it was apparently a whole lot easier to beget children than to get rid of them, which sounded reasonable enough. Moggie, then, would not be returning to St Cat's. She found herself the mother of a splendid brood of girls. Corinne showed me a photograph, which Moggie had apparently sent her in the post this very morning. Considering that she had gone from a middle-aged spinster to a mother of two and a half in a matter of hours, she looked very well indeed. Blooming, in fact.
     "Christ," I said. "Look at the size of the tits on that kid!"
     Anastasia eagerly seized the photograph. "Corrr, Miss Meadowlark," she exclaimed. "You don't mess about, do you?"
     Corinne blushed prettily. "She's not bad, is she! The younger one will be the same, and the other one, too, after she's born and grown up. It's in their genes."
     "Wait a minute," I said. "We're here to get rid of all these instant daughters, not to go all goo-ey over them." I snatched the picture back from Anastasia, who had a hand up her ridiculously short dress.
     In the photograph, Miss Thunderbolt looked radiantly happy. Her hands were folded proudly over her pregnant belly. She stood with her little girls one on each side. One of her little girls was not little at all. Tears came to my eyes.
     "You can't take all that away from her," Corinne pointed out.
     "So we let Moggie keep her kids and retire. What about the others? My mother and sister? I am absolutely not having it, Cee."
     Corinne had gone red. Anastasia was shuffling her feet and looking embarrassed.
     "It's not that simple, Miss."
     "What's not that simple?"
     Corinne explained. "You know how you said none of the girls I'd made had any character? They were all sort of two-dimensional? I realised you were right."
     "Of course I was right. Jeremy didn't know anything about my sister at all, except that she had a lovely big pair of tits."
     "More than just big, Shannie. You wait till you see them!" Corinne remembered herself. "Anyway, I decided to do something about it. So I did a bit of work on your sister's sexual preferences. I ... um ... seem to have slipped up somewhere."
     "It wasn't Miss Meadowlark's fault, Miss. I had a look at the parameters, and it's horribly complicated. If I've got five minutes to spare one day, I'll have a go at redesigning that part. Anyway, Miss Meadowlark tried to give Genitalia some sexual characteristics ..."
     "To give ... WHO ...?"
     "Genitalia. Your sister."
     "Grief, Cee! What did you call her that for?"
     "It wasn't me! It was your Mum! You know what she's like with names."
     "... and things went a bit wrong," Anastasia continued doggedly. "She didn't want her to be another lesbian ..."
     "... so I made her preferences 1000% boys. It was a typing error, Shan. I never meant it to happen."
     "What was? What happened?"
     "Genitalia's pregnant, Miss. It must have been the pheromones or something. As soon as she became fertile for the first time, she went out and got laid, and of course, she fell straight away. She's four months gone."
     "The little slut!" I stormed. "I knew it, the way she started flaunting those fucking great tits of hers as soon as they started sprouting. I've told Mother about it time and again." I noticed the satisfied expressions on Corinne's and Anastasia's faces. "What are you two looking so happy about?"
     "Nothing." Anastasia made a hasty adjustment to her expression. "Miss? There's something else..."
     "I'll tell her, Staze. It was my stupid idea. Genitalia's baby. The father ... it's Jeremy!"
     I was stunned, but by no means speechless. "Jeremy? I'll wring his scruffy little neck. Where is he? After everything he was saying to me last night in bed, and all the time, he's been screwing my poor innocent little defenceless sister. When she was no age at all."
     "You're right, Shan. Literally! She hadn't even been created at the time."
     A thought occurred to me. "Listen. Does it have to be Jeremy? You remember how when Michaela got pregnant, and it was Clark, and Anastasia was upset, we made her a month farther along than she had been, and Clark was away on holiday at the time, so it couldn't have been him? Couldn't you do the same thing with Genitalia? Make her five or six months, and Jeremy would have been somewhere else that night? You know what the little slut is like, anything with a cock will do for her. She's insatiable!" I don't know how I knew all this, but I was sure it was true.
     Corinne was looking uncomfortable. "It might not work. I mean, it worked for a while last time, with Michaela and Clark, but then it changed again. It was as if the system has a way of correcting errors."
     "Errors? What do you mean?" I glanced at Anastasia. She seemed horrified at what she was about to hear.
     "When we changed Michaela's date so that Clark was on holiday at the time she conceived, the system saw that as an error. It started working on ways of correcting it. It probably explored a few hundred thousand alternatives. It would have thought about bringing Clark back from holiday early, for instance, but that would involve people getting bumped off airliners to make room for him, and more people getting their reservations changed to make room for them, and so on. It would have too many repercussions. In the end, the system probably decided simply to make me decide to bring Michaela forward two more weeks. Which I did, of course."
     Anastasia was in tears. The poor child had begun to howl.
     I had to shout over the noise. "You mean Clark is Michaela's twins' father after all?"
     "Yes."
     As if she wasn't already making enough row, Anastasia began to bellow in earnest. It took twenty minutes to calm her down.
     "Woo-woo-woo-woo," she said at last. "Do that again, Miss!"
     Corinne did it again, while I watched, fascinated.
     "Woo-woo-WOW!" Anastasia cried joyously. I waited for her to announce the number of her orgasm then realised that the girl was already obeying the new school rule. "I hate Clark. I hate all men!" she said in her next breath. I was trying to remember if loving everybody was a school rule yet. I decided it was, and exercised my prerogative as Headmistress to announce the punishment: a sound spanking.
     It felt good, very good. Not as good as it used to feel, when my bottom was shamefully, shamefully huge, but easily good enough to soak a huge area of the carpet tiles in the IT lab with my steaming juices.
     "We'll get Jeremy to lay some fresh carpet tiles here instead of this wet patch," I announced splendidly. Then I remembered that he had been the one who had impregnated my poor unsullied favourite little sister, Genitalia. "That bastard. I'll kill him."

The three of us adjourned to the bedroom with the laptop.
     "We need to make a list," said Anastasia. "There's no point in rushing ahead and typing things straight into the computer. We'll only cock everything up again. As soon as you've finished making the tea, Miss, make a list, and when we've got a note of everything, I'll supervise Cee while she makes all the corrections."
     Who was in charge round here, I wondered. "You called her Cee! Her name is Miss Meadowlark."
     "It's all right, Miss. She told me it was all right to call her Cee. Or anything else I wanted."
     Corinne was already feverishly scribbling, in between directing looks of pure lust and open admiration at Anastasia. Corinne seemed to be hugely turned on by contact with someone who was her intellectual equal. It was something I had never noticed before, for obvious reasons. So, I realised, was Anastasia. Me, I was nothing, the lowest of the low. Unfortunately, I am turned on by anyone who is so far ahead of me intellectually that they are a mere speck in the distance. Already, all three of us were utterly soaked. Our nipples probed the sex-laden air like antennae.
     "Have we finished sorting out Genitalia?" I asked Corinne, determined to show my authority.
     "Yes, Headmistress, sort of. Anastasia has made her 85% less horny, and there's every chance that she will get through to her twelfth birthday without getting pregnant again too many times. She's having a little girl, by the way. Tonight."
     "TONIGHT? But I should be there. I want to see. I want to be with her."
     "We only just decided. It was the only date available. Nine months ago tonight, Jeremy was here, having an orgy with the girls of the Middle School. There's a chance we could get away with it. We're doing it for you and Jeremy, you realise, Headmistress. It might just work."
     "Oh, it will, it will. I knew he didn't fuck my sister. He wouldn't do such a thing. Now it's been confirmed: he was here all the time, fucking thirty ordinary St Cat's girls!"
     "Shannie. I mean, Headmistress. We didn't say he didn't fuck Genitalia. All we're trying to do is to have him not make her pregnant. In fact, he shagged her seventeen times on other occasions, between last Tuesday and next Thursday, nine months ago. He also screws her every time he goes home for the weekend. Surely you knew? She makes enough noise about it. She's even noisier than you are!"
     So that explained the noises I'd so often heard at home. Daddy always told me it was a fox getting loose amongst the chickens. This was all a rotten conspiracy. Everybody was in on it but me. I couldn't even bring myself to hate that bastard Jeremy.
     "So Genitalia will have her little girl tonight. And that will be an end to it. We've finished with my family. Who's next? What about your twins?"
     "Not so fast. The trouble is, when women get pregnant, other women tend to get broody as well. That seems to be the only explanation. If you'd been home this week instead of going off to screw poor Anastasia's Daddy, you'd have seen for yourself."
     "Seen what?" I asked with rising dread.
     "Your mother. She's eight months pregnant. Now, wait ..." Corinne shouted, as I rose to my feet in a violent rage. "Wait, it's not Jeremy this time. It's your Dad."
     "Be thankful for small mercies," I sighed, sitting down on my very wet armchair again. "What's the matter? Why are you looking like that?"
     "Because that was only the good news. Your mother is eight months gone, she's looking forward to having a lovely daughter, and your father is the father. The bad news is that the system had to find a way of getting around Jeremy's non-availability nine months ago. Genitalia's baby had to have a father, too. It found one, all right, and it looks as if the system is happy with it and is accepting it as a solution to the error. The only trouble is, Headmistress, it's your Dad!"

I put the phone down and slumped back in my chair, trying to take it all in. In the armchair across from me, Anastasia and Corinne were working together on some complicated calculation. Why they had to share a single armchair when a perfectly serviceable and only slightly soaking couch was available, I had no idea.
     From this angle, all I could see of Anastasia was a pair of meaty thighs and a couple of sausage-shaped nipples. She had one foot up on the arm of the chair, and the insides of her thighs gleamed wetly. Corinne had sprawled herself on top and to one side of the girl. Every now and again, she made a suggestion, her adoring gaze never leaving the girl's face. As I watched, Corinne bit her lip and blushed as Anastasia pointed out yet another simple solution to one of Corinne's hugely complex problems.
     "It's a girl," I announced, feeling left out. "Nine pounds three ounces, born in eleven minutes, thirteen seconds, a county all-comers' record for first babies born to sub-teen-aged mothers." Genitalia and the father were both doing well, mother had told me. The child had been put to the breast and had been unable to believe its good fortune. Nobody was listening.
     It was no use. I got up, broke open the last packet of Kleenex and went over to wipe Anastasia's inner thighs. She thanked me politely, and Corinne stroked the back of my hand. Her heart wasn't in it, I could tell.
     "But don't you see, Miss Meadowlark? If we do that, we'll be creating a feedback loop over this generation here. Why not cut out all reference to that baby girl, there, Gabrielle; and go straight to the sister's cousin, Sammy, as the mother of ... this one, Jennifer. Then she can stay the same age last November 19th. Throw that to the machine, and see if it likes it."
     Corinne did as she was told, while Anastasia took a gulp of tea and watched her critically.
     "It worked!" Corinne yelled, after a few minutes. "You're brilliant, Staze!"
     Anastasia blushed prettily as Corinne plunged a hand into the darkness beneath her skirt. "Oooh, Miss! Where did you learn to do that?"
     Yes, I wondered. Where?

Midnight struck. The genius lovebirds still had their heads together. Occasionally, they both thought of the same idea at the same time, laughing and giggling into each other's open mouths as they kissed in celebration.
     They stopped, and stood up, helping each other out of the armchair.
     "Go on, Cee, love," said Anastasia. "Nip down to the IT lab and type it all in, and see if it works. I'm going for a shit, then we'll get to bed."
     "Okay, sugar." Corinne gave a little finger wave to the girl and headed for the door, wiggling her bottom and adjusting the crotch of her intimate underwear. She was deeply flushed and her nipples were sticking out about an mile and a half.
     "Christ, Miss, are you still here?" Anastasia patted my cheek affectionately, as if I were a dog. "We thought you'd gone to bed hours ago. You can go now anyway, the fun's all over for tonight. We've been working on Cee's twins. Still a lot to do, but they're looking okay. Where are you going to sleep tonight? My room is free, or you can try Jeremy again."
     "What about my bed?"
     Anastasia looked surprised. "You can if you like, but we thought we might keep you awake. You know how noisy I am. It's up to you. You're welcome to stay if you like. We can't stop you, it's your room, after all."
     That was all I needed. I called Jeremy. He came over within three minutes, and never even objected for a moment as I told him to start moving all my things out. He really is the world's biggest sweetie.
     Moggie's room was really quite cosy once we lit the gas fire and drew the curtains. The bed was wide and deep and soft. There were separate bedside lamps on my side and on Jeremy's. He could move his bits and pieces in there next morning.
     "We can extend the workshop area now we don't need to use half my shed as a bedroom," he said, as we came slowly down from our third love-making. There will be room for a new bench in there. How about an assistant for me? We could find somebody local, a school leaver. It doesn't have to be a girl, but it would be best, of course ..."
     "Oh, of course." I was going to have to get him to address me as Headmistress. If Corinne was doing it, it seemed only right that Jeremy should, too. And I hadn't even mentioned Genitalia's baby to him yet. But there would be plenty of time for that. We had years and years. Together.

We were awakened by a pounding on the door. "Shan? Wake up."
     "Oh, my God. A headmistress's life is not her own. Back soon, darling," I whispered to Jeremy.
     Ten minutes later, I opened the bedroom door. The mountainous form of Anastasia stood there, with Corinne beside her, holding her hand and looking up into her eyes in rapt admiration.
     "You've got to come, Miss," Anastasia said, not even mentioning the fact that I had given Jeremy a hearty quickie before answering her knock. "It's our bedroom, Miss ..."
     "Whose bedroom?"
     "Mine and Cee's. We finished typing in the changes down in the lab, and one thing led to another, you know how it is?"
     "It depends what you mean, but probably, yes."
     "Good. Anyway, we went back to our room, we were really ready for bed, I can tell you ..." Corinne whimpered softly and pawed anxiously at the nearer of Anastasia's breasts. Anastasia rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We were really gagging for it, Miss, but when we opened the door ... you wouldn't believe it, Miss!"
     "Believe what? What happened?"
     "It was terrible, Miss!"
     "What about it? What was it? Corinne, what was in our ... I mean, your ... bedroom?"
     "Oh, Headmistress, it was terrible," Corinne said.
     "God, you're both useless. Where's my dressing gown?" I went back into the room and came out five minutes later, wearing a T-shirt and wiping my inner thighs on a handful of heavy duty tissue. "Won't be long, sweetheart," I called softly to Jeremy and followed Anastasia and Corinne down the corridor. "This had better be important, waking me up in the middle of the night."
     "Oh it is, Headmistress. It's terrible!"
     "It's all right, Cee," Anastasia soothed her as they padded along behind me. "Miss Gruntworthy will know what to do."
     There was something different about the bedroom. Something I couldn't quite place at first. "Is this door wider?" I said at last.
     "Yes, Miss. Only another foot or so."
     I was about to go in, when I realised that the brass plaque beside the door had been changed for a much bigger one. It used to have Corinne's and my names on it. Now, I realised, it was engraved:
     

CORINNE MEADOWLARK B.A. (Hons)

Support and Mobility Mistress

Below that, in much larger letters:

ANASTASIA

Head Girl

"How long has that been there?" I demanded angrily.
     "Do you like it, Miss? Cee had it done for me."
     I actually snarled at her. And flung open the door. It was dark inside, but there was an indefinable something about the atmosphere in the room. An icy chill that seemed to strike at my very vitals themselves, so much so that I thrust a hand beneath my T-shirt to see if I had flooded my panties yet again. No, I realised. I hadn't, and anyway, I wasn't wearing any. I found the light switch, and the room was suddenly revealed in stark detail to my astonished gaze.
     I had expected something terrible. This was far worse.

Chapter 38:- Valley Of The Dolls

I STAGGERED back into the corridor, cannoning into Anastasia and Corinne.
     "See what I mean, Miss?"
     "Stay here," I told them fiercely. "I'm going in there."
     "On your own, Miss? No, don't do it. Let me send Cee to fetch Jeremy."
     "No, I can handle this. Staze, go and fetch Miss Mountains." She looked up at me and nodded, then dragged Corinne away by the hand. Together, they headed for the stairs.
     This was one more of these strange manifestations which were manifesting themselves so strangely at St Cat's recently. Apart from everything else, there was now the stunning change to poor Corinne, who seemed to have turned almost overnight into a gormless dummy who worshipped Anastasia like a Goddess.
     At least, I knew, even from my swift glance into the bedroom, there was one person I needed at my side right now. Smegs.
     Now, as ever, Smegs would know what to do.
     Meanwhile, it was time. I steeled myself and pushed at the door, feeling the blast of chill air. The reason for that was obvious. The curtains billowed into the room as soon as the door was opened. Someone had opened the windows wide. I remembered, it was me. Anastasia's dietary inconsistencies had made it advisable. Since then, a chilly night breeze had sprung up outside.
     Already, I could feel my nipples hardening into points. But it was not the cool breeze which was causing it. Rather was it the sight which welcomed me. Every square foot of the room was occupied. Every bit of the floor, every chair, the settee, both beds. They were perched on the dressing table, I could see them in the kitchen, on the table, the fridge, the stove.
     "Hurry up, Smegs," I muttered, then turned as footsteps sounded out in the corridor.
     "You stay out here, you two," came Smegs's much loved voice. "And don't let anyone in."
     I heard her slip into the room behind me and close the door. "It's all right, love," she whispered, "it's only me. Congratulations, by the way."
     "What?"
     "On getting Moggie's job. It was on the notice board."
     "Who put it on there? Nobody knows yet."
     Smegs shrugged. "Weirder things happen round here than that. Like all these things in here."
     I touched her hand and she squeezed my fingers. "Look at them all," I said in hushed tones.
     "I am."
     "Did you know they were coming tonight?" I looked at her searchingly.
     "I expected them to be in boxes, not like this."
     "They're surely not shipping them ready inflated?" I said.
     "It looks like it." Cautiously we approached the nearest of the Kia dolls. With the door shut and no breeze in the room, she had stopped waving to us. Instead, she reclined there in an armchair, her legs parted, a little smile on her face.
     "They've certainly improved the detail." I was investigating the Kia's lower body, while Smegs inspected her nipples. "She's moist already," I said quietly.
     "I'm not surprised. You were sucking her clitty."
     I found myself blushing. "You can't talk," I protested. "Look at that nipple you were sucking. It's twice as big as the other one. Have you ever seen puffies like those?"
     "Not on an inflatable doll," Smegs agreed. "Only on a real girl."
     We returned to our detailed and intimate inspections.
     "Ooooh, Smegs!"
     "Shush, Shan, I'm busy!"
     "It wasn't me," I said. "I had my mouth full."
     "Shannie!"
     "What do you want?" I removed my face from the doll's muff.
     "I never said a word," Smegs insisted.
     "But that means ..."
     "Yes."
     "How does it know our names?"
     "I don't know. Ask her."
     "Kia," I whispered, feeling rather silly.
     "Try its ear,"Smegs suggested. It's up this end."
     It still felt pretty silly talking to the doll. "Kia. How do you know us? Tell Shannie!"
     "Ooooh, Shannie," said Kia. "Ooooh, Megan!"
     "She likes you. She used your Sunday name."
     Smegs blushed prettily and removed her hand, dripping, from Kia's highly realistic vagina.
     "I never ordered this," she said. "I wonder if the others are the same."
     Over the next twenty minutes, we wandered round the room, whispering to the dolls, which all looked remarkably similar yet all looked slightly different. Gratifyingly, the dolls whispered back. Once started, they refused to stop talking. The room was filled with husky voices whispering our names. One or two of the dolls, a little more forward than the others, murmured endearments.
     "Ooh, yes, do that again, prease. Kia enjoy that!"
     "Suck my huge nipples, darling!"
     "I'm coming! Oh, oh, woo-woo-woo-WOW!"
     "Which one's that?" Smegs looked up from what she was doing.
     "This one here, in the kitchen," I said. "She was on the stove. Perhaps it's a temperature thing. The hotter they get, the more they say. What are you doing?"
     Megan had turned on all four heating rings of the cooking hob. She was holding a Kia in her arms, waving her above the gradually increasing warmth.
     "Ooh, yes, prease, Megan," said the doll, warming to her theme. "That's so good. Yessss. Do it to me, prease! Wow! Woo-woo-woo ..."
     "Yes, Shannie. Give it to me, too!" I elbowed Smegs to one side and held my Kia closer to the heat. Smegs pushed me away, so I rushed out into the bedroom, lit the gas fire and went over to close the window. Already the room felt warmer. Smellier, too. Dolls were waking up all over the room, bellowing in ecstasy, howling and coming. "Woo-woo-woo ..." they went, in a ceaseless ullulation.
     "They're all at it now," shouted Smegs in satisfaction above the hullabaloo. "They must start coming at normal room temperature. They're great! Those designers have done an amazing job."
     "Did you order this lot?" I yelled.
     "I suppose I must have done. But I don't remember it at all. Is it all part of the strange goings-on?"
     I nodded. "Smegs. You've known me a long time, haven't you?"
     "Yes, what's the matter?"
     "There's something I need to ask you. It's about my sister."
     "Jennifer?"
     "That's right ... what did you call her? Not Genitalia?"
     "Shan, love, not even your mother would call her daughter Genitalia, would she?"
     "No, I suppose she wouldn't."

The door opened a little way. I didn't hear it open, with all that racket going on, but a subtle change came over some of the Kia dolls nearest the door.
     "Anastasia," they moaned, "Corinne!"
     The objects of their attention had come in and were staring round at the scene in disbelief. Corinne hung back, cowering just inside the door, but Anastasia walked boldly up to one of the dolls and took it in her arms. The doll went into a frenzy of excitement.
     "It seems pleased to see her," I said to Smegs, feeling a little put out. The doll had wrapped its arms and legs round Anastasia and was humping itself against her like a randy dog.
     "Oh, she's lovely, Miss. She's so loving!" Anastasia returned the doll's affections with interest. Smegs and I blushed and looked away. "Now, stay there like a good dolly," said Anastasia, wagging a finger at her Kia and parking it on the edge of the bed where it whimpered piteously for her to come back. "I won't be a minute, it's all right!"
     Anastasia had opened one of the drawers of Corinne's dressing table. She came up with a bra and a pair of pants. The system had done a thorough job on Corinne's clothing: the bra was a pert looking F-cup. A number of T-shirts scattered on the bed and the floor were the same size, about double-handful size. The bra was a perfect fit on the doll. It could almost have been made to measure for her. The pants were a bit tight, but the overall effect was quite pleasing to the eye.
     "There you go," said Anastasia. "What a lovely dolly you are, aren't you? Come to Mummie!" She cupped the doll's soft buttocks and gave her a friendly hug. The doll started humping at her again, woo-woo-woo-ing with renewed energy, its eyes glazed and staring. It was almost a minute before it reached a climax, and lay back in Anastasia's embrace, before leaning forward again to place wet kisses on the girl's monster breasts. "Oh, Miss! Isn't she sweet?"
     I had to agree. So, it seemed, did the other dolls, which had stopped their wailing and chanting to watch silently.
     Anastasia, meanwhile, was whispering endearments to the exhausted doll, like a mother with a baby. Suddenly, she propped the doll on the settee and rushed over to the dressing table, gathering up armfuls of Corinne's clothes. She emptied another drawer out on to the bed.
     "Come on, Miss. Let's dress them all. They're much nicer when they're dressed." There was something infectious about Anastasia's enthusiasm. I glanced at Smegs.
     "Come on," I urged her. She needed no second invitation. There was a shortage of bras, but there were plenty of T-shirts, blouses and other assorted tops. Smegs grabbed a fist full of panties and busied herself stretching them over the Kia dolls' well-rounded bottoms. I did the same with T-shirts and tops. Anastasia quickly exhausted the supply of Corinne's bras, then went round to each Kia in turn, hugging and cuddling, whispering into their little doll-like ears.
     "It's a good job Corinne's got plenty of kit," I said to Smegs as we passed each other busily. "We'll have enough for all of them."
     Corinne said nothing throughout all this activity. She was standing by the door, a thumb in her mouth, just watching.
     "Look at this one, Miss!" Anastasia's clear voice rang out and Smegs and I spun round. The girl had her original dolly-lover in her arms. Something had changed.
     "Smegs, look at it."
     "Yeah!" Smegs was licking her lips. If she could have reached, she would have been licking herself down there, too. My bestest friend was positively drooling.
     Anastasia's Kia was growing before our eyes. For some reason, my gaze was drawn by the doll's bottom, which was stretching Corinne's panties appallingly tight. Already, it had a pair of buttocks which I could only describe as shamefully, shamefully large. That still didn't stop me wanting them to become bigger. God, I wanted to spank her with a stick.
     A sudden creaking noise made me jump in surprise. Corinne's bra was having a struggle for survival. As I watched, one of the doll's full, spherical breasts plopped out of its cup and flopped down like a bag of something very heavy. As the doll was bending forward at the time, the great breast stretched itself out to its full length, then hung there, bouncing slowly up and down like a fat yo-yo. Ouch, I thought. It looked too painful even to think about. The rest of the bra stood up to the stress for perhaps another ten seconds, while we all watched, then Whoomph! Out came the other breast, taking a shoulder strap with it, and plunged down to dangle massively next to its partner.
     "Wow!" said Anastasia, inadequately.
     The useless bra hung like a rag from the doll's chest. The demise of her panties was less dramatic but every bit as final. The panties were tiny brief ones, consisting of nothing but a lacy pouch secured by strings at each side. After threatening for some time to cut the doll in half, both strings decided that enough was enough and quietly let go. The wrecked panties clung on gamely for a while, dangling from the doll's soggy labia, before fluttering to the floor.
     Actually, they didn't flutter, they landed with an extremely liquid Splatt!
     "Has it stopped growing yet?" I whispered to Smegs.
     "No, look at its boobs."
     They were definitely longer and fatter, swaying down below the level of the doll's shameful hips.
     Anastasia was biting her lip and clutching at herself. "God, Miss! It will have tits as big as me soon. Look at them!"
     "I am, I am!"
     The doll clung to Anastasia and they cavorted away across the bedroom. From the rear, it was staggeringly voluptuous, its breasts squishing out to the sides, its gigantic bottom contrasting with its waist, which had apparently not expanded at all. Softly, the other dolls started their moaning again. I could hear them calling my name, and Smegs's. Some cried out to Anastasia, and some to Corinne.
     "Look at them." Smegs pointed a wavering finger, waving it round the whole room. "They're all at it!"
     Everywhere we looked, dolls were ballooning. With a sudden heart-wrenching movement, a pair of huge breasts plummeted out of one of Corinne's crop-tops to sway around a doll's stomach. Away to the left, a doll gave a grunt as her shorts split right round the crotch to hang from their elastic waistband like a frieze. And believe it or not, a bra actually burst with a soft plop. I would never have believed it possible. It landed on the floor while the doll sighed with relief and carried right on growing.
     The dolls began groping toward us: as they grew bigger, they became more desperate for human company. The room smelled like a whorehouse. Anastasia put her original doll down and joined Smegs and me as we stroked and caressed and cupped and probed and sucked at warm, moist and terribly realistic doll flesh. Soon, they had grown so much that there was no space between them in the room. It was like a party where everyone had bothered to turn up. You couldn't move in there, and if you did, all you could feel was squashy tit and fat arse.
     "Oooh, Miss. That was me!"
     "Are they going to stop?"
     Smegs was wide-eyed. "How do I know? I haven't even ordered them yet. I can't place the order until I've seen the specification and the price."
     "I think these will sell okay, at any price!"
     "If they survive. Or if we do. I don't know what's going to happen first. Either we suffocate or the dolls explode."
     "Explode? Oh, no, we'll be killed if this lot goes up. What are they full of?"
     "I don't know. I keep telling you. Whatever it is, it's wet and heavy. There's milk and love juice in them, too."
     "Anastasia?" I shouted over the dolls' cacophany. "Where are you? Stay close to me, dear."
     "I've got an idea, Miss. Perhaps if we make them come?"
     "Come? You mean they haven't already? What do you think they're doing now?"
     "Oh, Miss, can't you tell when they're faking it? God, talk about a sheltered life. Most dolls never have an orgasm in their lives."
     How does she know these things? "What are you going to do about it?"
     "Let me try with this one. The one with a nice face."
     "They all look the same to me."
     "No, this one's a little honey." She spoke softly to the doll, which nodded eagerly, then the girl disappeared from view. Suddenly, the doll with a nice face was dragged to the floor, with Anastasia fumbling around her swollen pudenda. Concentrating hard, she probed with two fingers. The doll lay back passively, legs spread wide, breasts rolling around on the floor on each side of its body like great floppy pillows. Suddenly the doll gave a great cry and tipped its head back, just as Anastasia yipped with delight and a veritable fountain of liquid gushed from the doll's pussy, arcing into the air and splashing down all over the doll. Anastasia rolled around trying to catch the spray in her mouth. "There!" she cried, her wet face shining in triumph.
     "Ooooh!" cried the dolls.
     "I think it worked." Smegs was gently squeezing the doll's breast. A dribble of milk came out, and she lapped it up gratefully. "It's stopped growing," she said. "Quick, let's do all the others. Make them squirt. Find their G-spots."
     The next twenty minutes were most exciting. We serviced all the dolls, producing dozens of squirts of juice which puddled on the floor, the furniture and ourselves. Gradually, the growth slowed and stopped. Some of the last dolls to receive our attention — those furthest away beside the window — were fearsomely huge. They had breasts reaching down to the floor and beyond, and bottoms many feet in circumference. Gallons of milk and Kia-juice sloshed around our feet.
     "Well, we've learned something," Smegs panted. "They don't explode, and we know how to stop them growing."
     "How do we make them smaller again, Miss?"
     "Why do you ask such stupid questions all the time? How do I know? Maybe that's it. They stay this big for ever. Or they might just slowly shrink."
     "Shame about all Cee's clothes," said Anastasia mournfully. Then we all had the same thought.
     Corinne was still over by the doorway, curled up in a ball on the floor with her thumb in her mouth and a little smile on her face. She was sound asleep.
     "Do you think she dreamed all this?" I asked in a whisper.
     "Nothing would surprise me any more," said Smegs.
     "We'd better take her down to the lab, Miss. We need her back."
     "Back? Back to what?"
     Anastasia blushed. "I made her into what she is at the moment, Miss. While she was asleep earlier on, I rewrote some of her parameters and made her so besotted with me she would do anything I said to her. It seems to have worked. As we came in, I told her to stay right there. She did, as you see."
     "She's useless like this," said Smegs. "I mean, I don't like the woman all that much, but we can't have her like this when the girls come back to school."
     "Come on," Anastasia said. "Grab an end each and we'll take her down to the lab." It seemed perfectly natural to do whatever Anastasia told us.
     As we closed the door behind us, I glanced round the scene in the bedroom; sopping wet, littered with tattered clothing, crowded with exhausted but happy dolls, all coo-ing gently. One or two of them even said goodnight.

"I feel really scruffy," Corinne said. "This T-shirt looks as if I've slept in it."
     "You have," I said, disregarding Anastasia's warning head-shake.
     "I'm not surprised. It must be late. What time is it?"
     "God knows. About three in the morning."
     "What are we all doing out of bed? Shannie, why aren't you tucked up doing rude things to Jeremy?"
     "We've still got a few things to do with the computer," said Anastasia. "Now we've got you back to normal, there are a few more things to tidy up."
     "I'll just go and change this shirt then, I'm all itchy." Corinne made for the door.
     "I don't think you'd better go to your room," Smegs warned her.
     "Why not?"
     We all looked at each other, wondering what to say.
     "Well?"
     Nobody answered. "I'll go then. I'll only be a minute." She was off up the corridor, singing.
     "I don't know what she'll make of that lot in there," I said.
     "She'll have to see it some time," said Anastasia, not sounding too sure.
     "She won't find anything to wear at all," I said. "Everything's been shredded. She'll go absolutely spare."
     "We'll soon know," said Smegs. "She's coming back."
     Corinne breezed in, wearing a crisply clean shirt and a pair of minimal shorts. "Right, let's get this done then we can get off to bed. You can sleep in Shannie's bed tonight, Staze."
     "Gee, thanks."
     "That's a nice shirt, Cee," I said.
     "You've seen it before. I bought it weeks ago. And these shorts."
     "They were in your bedroom?"
     "Of course. What's up with you? You're all standing there staring at me as if I'm a ghost or something."
     It took an effort, but I pulled myself together. "Nothing. We're all a bit tired, I suppose. If you two want to get on, I suppose Megan and I can get ourselves off to bed. Coming, Smegs?"
     "Yeah, right. There's not a lot more we can do here."
     "Don't be too long, you two. See you in the morning."
     Smegs and I walked away up the corridor. As soon as we passed out of sight of the lab, we walked faster and faster.
     "Wait for me, Smegs," I pleaded, trying to keep my chest under control. Smegs surged ahead. She was waiting for me outside the room, pointing at the brass plaque beside the door.
     "Look," she said. "Your brass plate is back on here. That huge one of Anastasia's has gone."
     It turned my blood to ice water. "Don't go in there, Megan! Please, love. Don't go in."
     "We have to. You know what we'll find, don't you?"
     I nodded silently, and Smegs opened the door. It creaked as if it thought it was in a horror film. Sure enough, there wasn't a Kia in sight. I hurried across to Corinne's dressing table and opened the drawers one at a time. They were all neatly packed with her tops and shorts, her shirts and those ducky little F-cup bras.
     "It's all back to normal. You'd never know the dolls had been in here at all. Smegs, they were in here, weren't they? We didn't just imagine the whole thing?"
     "What, both of us? And Anastasia? If it was a dream, all three of us had it. It doesn't sound very likely to me."
     "Where have they all gone?" I wandered round the room, looking behind things.
     "That's what I'd like to know," said Smegs. "One thing's sure, we haven't seen the last of those dolls. The trouble is, every time they turn up, they are more ridiculous than the last time. Next time we see them, they won't just be talking and coming and growing to enormous size, they'll be walking round on their own as if they owned the whole school."
     "Maybe it will all stop when Anastasia and Corinne get these last changes made."
     "What are they going to do?"
     "They're still sorting out all the daughters. Like my sister, Jenufa or whatever her stupid name is."
     "You mean she's the result of all this messing around? But I've known her for years, since she was so high. And now she's pregnant."
     "Until a couple of nights ago, she didn't even exist. She hadn't been created. I can't help wondering if she's going to disappear, just like all these dolls."
     Smegs took a last look round the room. No Kia dolls had made an appearance. "I can't get my head round this. Bedtime. Come on. Where are you sleeping? In here?"
     "Moggie's room. Funny, I still think of it as Moggie's room. Even with Jeremy waiting in there for me."
     "You lucky pig. I wish I had someone waiting in my bed."
     "Don't even think about it, Smegs. You never know who or what you'll find in there."
     We held hands up the stairs, and kissed long and hard outside her bedroom door. "It's never locked, love, remember! Even if you are the headmistress."
     "Thanks, sweetheart!" I gave her hand an extra hard squeeze.

Chapter 39:- Mystery

I WAS awakened at seven the next morning. "This place is like Piccadilly Circus," I complained to Jeremy, scrambling out of bed and going to the window.
     "What is it?"
     "A delivery van. Those three trawlermen again, the grand piano deliverers. Only it's not a grand piano this time. It's ..." I rubbed at the glass, disbelieving. "It's a new car!"
     "A what?"
     "A sports car, one of those long low ones. Bright red. They're pushing it up the steps."
     "Why should they do that? Why can't they leave it in the car park?" Still grumbling pointlessly, he joined me at the window, in time to see the back end of the car disappearing through the double doors.
     By the time we had dressed hurriedly and gone to the top of the stairs, the three trawlermen were on their way out of the building, rubbing their hands together with satisfaction at another job done well. We heard the van drive off. Inexplicably, it was fitted with a set of those electronic chimes, like an ice cream van.
     "What have they done with the car?" I whispered.
     "Dunno." I followed Jeremy down the stairs and along the corridor. Suddenly, he stopped. I collided softly with him. "Look!" he said, ten minutes later.
     I looked. It was in one of the classrooms. A bright red sports car. Corinne was sitting half in the passenger seat, with her feet on the floor. We went in.
     "What's all this, Corinne?" I used my best headmistressly voice.
     "Do you like it? What do you think?" Corinne ran her hand across the polished wood of the instrument panel.
     "Whose is it? It's very nice, but is it yours? Why have they brought it in here? You'll never get it out again."
     "Get it out? It's staying in here. It's for Support and Mobility classes. Watch ..." Corinne swung her legs into the car and closed the door. Then she opened the door and got out, revealing not even a hint of her underwear. Disappointed, I got up off my hands and knees. "We'll be teaching the Juniors how to do that. All part of the new St Cat's Moral Crusade. Later, the older girls will learn to get out in a more worldly way, revealing more and more. Getting out of cars is vital to a young girl who wants to score on a regular basis."
     "I see your point, Corinne. But did we need to buy a whole car just to do that?"
     Corinne giggled. "Oh, Shannie, you are silly. It's not a whole car. It doesn't have an engine or anything. It's just an empty shell with doors and seats."
     "But it's huge! And if it doesn't have an engine, why not just have a little bit of car, the bit with the doors and seats."
     "It's not just for getting into and out of." Corinne slunk round to the front of the car and bent over. Her microskirt rose up in a fascinating manner. She raised the cover of the engine compartment and bent down to peer inside.
     I looked at Jeremy. What are you doing down here?" I asked him.
     "Looking up Corinne's skirt, same as you," he retorted.
     "Get up and go away, you disgusting boy. You can see Corinne isn't wearing any undies."
     "Oh," he said glumly. "You noticed."
     "This is for attracting the attention of passing drivers," Corinne explained. "The girls will have to learn how to look at an engine in such a way that people will take pity on her and stop to help. Nature will then take its course."
     "Couldn't we just teach them motor mechanics?" Jeremy suggested.
     "I thought I told you to go away. Go and make breakfast or something." He got to his feet and crept away. "How much did this thing cost, Corinne?"
     "We got it cheap. Only about a thousand or so. One of the school governors gave us the money this morning. We made him the father of one of Nurse's babies. He's building us a new sick bay too. The builders will be arriving round about the middle of last week. Anyway, this car is the kind of visual aid that a modern school needs to keep abreast of developments in education. And developments in girls. You wait until you see some of the daughters I've created!"
     My head was spinning again. Corinne's mental faculties were clearly fully restored. "Where's Anastasia?"
     "She's doing daughters. Routine work, but she enjoys it. When the men brought the car, she was doing your sister. You didn't like her name, did you? We decided to call her Jenufa instead."
     "It's a nice name," I said. I seemed to have heard it before somewhere. "Don't you think you'd better stop playing with this car and get down to the IT lab? That young girl shouldn't be working without supervision."
     "Oh, poo, Shan!" Corinne made a rude noise with her tongue. "Lighten up, girl. Go and screw Jeremy for a few hours and leave us to carry on sorting out the system. One thing, though, have you seen Michaela lately?"
     "Not for a day or two. She was down at Ezekiel Jones's place with the twins. And the twins."
     "Ah, good. It will work quite nicely then. I wanted to clear up the Ezekiel Jones business. He's too unstable. Now we've got Michaela nicely stabilised, we can sort Ezekiel out as well. Off you go then, Headmistress, go and do what you do best. Let the workers get on with their job. Hey! Come here ...!"
     "What do you want?" I moved closer. She flung her arms round my neck and her legs round my waist, like an over-enthusiastic Kia doll. Her lips were soft and warm.
     "Wow," she said softly. "I'm all wet now. I'll be able to see if love-juice stains these leather seats." And she tore herself free from me and squished down into the car seat again, with an expression of deep joy on her face.
     It was no use. I could not stand there and watch this wanton display.
     "See you later," I shouted over my shoulder and set off in search of my loving partner.

Michaela was sprawled in an armchair, looking distinctly untidy.
     "Good grief, Mikki, you're even bigger!"
     "Must be getting near feeding time again, Miss." Michaela looked down at her chest with a little frown. "No. I'm the same size."
     I bit my tongue. Obviously, Michaela had become larger as a result of some sort of jiggery-pokery with the system. "How are the twins?"
     "Which ones? Mine, or Corinne's? Mine are doing great. Hers are a pain in the arse, little buggers. But they're good at looking after the babies, so I mustn't grumble. Do you like this new top? Mr Jones bought it for me."
     "Very nice. It must have cost a bit. Where would he find a T-shirt that size?"
     "He said there's a new shop just opened in the village main street. They do girls' tops and blouses up to about fifteen feet bust, he said, and bigger made to measure."
     "In the village? Surely, there can't be any demand for stuff that size. At least, not until St Cat's opens again after the holidays."
     "That's what I told him, but he said it's a good sized shop with a great big car park out the back. 'Big Girls Blouses' it's called. You should go and check it out, Miss."
     "I think I will." Corinne was no doubt behind this latest development. I glanced at Michaela again. Looked away, then back at her. "The milk's coming in, love," I said. "You're really filling out!"
     "Can't be, not yet." She inspected herself again. "No, just the same. I'm quite big enough, Miss, thanks!"
     "But you've grown since I came in. I've only been in here five minutes. Look at you!"
     "I'm looking at me," she insisted. She hauled at one of her breasts in the T-shirt like a sack of flour, then plumped it up between her hands as if it were a cushion. Looking at me strangely, she said, "If anything, I'm a bit smaller, I'm glad to say. You ought to try humping these things around all day."
     I watched as she lowered her breast again. She clutched at the arm of the chair, grunted, then stood up unsteadily. Her mighty gourds — for want of a better word — hung inside her T-shirt, threatening to rip their way through the thin jersey to freedom. Even holstered as they were in the giant shirt, they still swung down by her knees. And I was not seeing things. They really were growing before my very eyes. Not like inflating balloons, not as fast as that. They were just bigger every time I looked at them.
     At this rate, Michaela was probably going to explode within the next half hour or so. It was like the Kia dolls all over again. I wished I had Smegs here with me. They were easily down to her knees now, and the nipples were noticeably sticking out more than before. The sound of girls' voices raised in argument diverted my attention for a moment. A door opened and Corinne's twins came in, holding a baby each.
     "Hi, Auntie Mikki!" They were still talking in unison, I noticed. "Hello, Auntie Shannie."
     Oh, no! Not them as well. They were miniature Corinnes. And not as miniature as all that.
     "I can see I am going to have to have a serious word with your mother, you two."
     "Oh, no, Auntie Shannie," Candy wailed.
     "She's a boring old fart," said Mandy. At least, it seemed, they were developing separate identities at last. Trouble was, they were developing other titties as well. They had laid the babies down on a rug and stood up, stretching extravagantly. If they had been wearing bras I would have ducked behind the settee out of the way of flying debris.
     "They're too young to wear crop-tops like that, Michaela," I scolded. "It shouldn't be allowed."
     "You're obsessed with big tits, Miss, that's your trouble," said Michaela peevishly. "They can't help it, can they?"
     "All I'm saying is that they could try not to stick them out quite so much."
     "We're not sticking them out, Auntie Shannie," Mandy pouted, stretching her top down a few inches to cover her Southern hemispheres. It sprang back up again.
     Candy was absently scratching one boob with a far-away expression. She tried pulling her top down, too, but things were obviously bigger than they used to be. Her nipples were somehow still inside the top, but it was a close-run thing.
     Michaela had moved over to the window and was looking out with interest. At least, her breasts seemed not to be any bigger these last five minutes. I wished I could say the same for Corinne's twins.
     "There's a bus outside," said Michaela.
     "So what? Buses run through the village all the time." I didn't want her changing the subject. I wanted to discuss breasts.
     "Not like this bus. It's stopped out there on the forecourt. Mr Jones won't like that at all."
     With a great throbbing, the bus was reversing close to the window, blocking out the light. It wasn't one of the usual buses, this was a long-distance coach, the sort of thing that carries blue-haired ladies to the seaside. I joined Michaela at the window. It contained no blue-haired ladies at all.
     "It's full of girls," said Michaela.
     "So I see. They're not St Cat's girls. I'll go and see what they want. Where's old Jonesy?"
     "Out the back yard."
     "I'll find him. You'd better all stay in here out of the way." The last thing I wanted was girls expanding in a public place. Such things are difficult to explain away satisfactorily.
     I went outside. Ezekiel Jones was down at the far end of the garden, digging what appeared to be a deep and mysterious pit. I shouted to him.
     "Right-ho, Missy," he yelled. "I's just coming." He thrust his spade into the huge pile of excavated soil and set off up the garden path, adjusting his clothing.
     The bus was huge and black and oblong with big gold writing on the back.
     

Duw, There's Bloody 'Uge They Are, Isn't It?     

it said, then this long word full of double-LL's and stuff. It must be a place in Wales, I thought. The smaller the village, the longer the name. A man appeared round the corner of the bus as I came out of the door, a ferrety little man with a pointed face and a twitch. He twitched in my direction.
     "Yew live round yer?"
     He twitched to a halt and held his head on one side, so I assumed it was a question.
     "Yes," I said.
     "Good-oh. Cos we're lost, see?"
     "Where did you want to get to?"
     "The motorway, isn't it. We're on a mystery tour, lovey. I ain't no good at mystery tours. I told the boss, I did, but he told me to get lost. 'Get lost,' he said, just like that. So I got lost. Got a load of girls on board, too, see?"
     At least, they weren't sixty new girls for St Cat's. Their faces were pressed against the windows. They seemed to range from about twenty down to no age at all. Typical St Cat's girls in age. Some of them had gathered together to point rudely through the glass. Dreadful behaviour. Who did they think they were pointing at?
     Then I realised, they had spotted Michaela and Corinne's twins looking out of the window. "Go away," I waved at them. They grinned and waved back, and the twins took dangerously deep breaths and wobbled their tits in a provocative and dangerous manner. It caused a furore inside the bus, with several of the passengers cupping their own chests and wobbling them, too. One girl pressed both her naked breasts against the bus window, squashing them into great big flat shapes like targets with bullseyes.
     Some of them were even pointing at me. I hunched my shoulders and tried to conceal my bust, but it wasn't easy. It never is.
     "Can't you control your passengers?" I asked the driver.
     "Control? Girls?"
     I saw his point.
     Ezekiel panted into view, tugging at his zipper and heaving at his crotch. "Yew can't park that thing yer ...!" He stopped short, staring at the bus driver. "Ieuan!" he proclaimed almost unpronounceably. "Ieuan Watkins the Bus!" It was evidently the driver's name: at least, the first two words probably were. The last two were the bus's name.
     The driver goggled short-sightedly at Mr Jones and twitched massively. "Zeke Jones, is it? Duw!"
     They circled each other like dogs then Mr Jones stuck out a hand. "What yew doin' down yer, then, bach? Not another one of your mystery tours?"
     "Sure, and I really got lost this time. You ain't on my map, see. An' I got to get back, cos tomorrow's Monday and I got all Incest Davies's girls on board. The factory'll go shitless if I don't bring them back."
     "Incest Davies's girls?" Ezekiel Jones's jaw had dropped open. He clutched at his genitalia with both hands. "You got Davies's girls on this yer bus?" He pointed a wavering finger at the bus, then his eyes wandered up to the windows where a whole bunch of breasts of varying sizes, from very large to Gawd Almighty, were being flashed at him in a distinctly friendly fashion. "How many of them?"
     "All of 'em, I reckon. It's a job to tell, with all their sisters being their own daughters, like, yew know what I means?"
     Ezekiel Jones looked back at the bus window, where a breast of such stupefying enormity had appeared that there was room for only one of it. "Duw," he whispered, "that's not Rhiannon Bevan is it?"
     "That's right."
     "Hang on. Don't go away." Ezekiel Jones darted into the house and emerged not twenty seconds later with a bulging suitcase. He flung it on to the bus and clambered up after it. "Come on, Ieuan, bach, I'll show you the way myself." He waved to me. "Bye, young Missy!" Then unseen hands grabbed him and he was seen no more.
     It looked as if Anastasia and Corinne had written Ezekiel Jones a happy ending.

Part XIV

Chapter 40:- Leave It To The System

"A HAPPY ending?" Corinne looked up from the monitor. "How do you mean?"
     "Ezekiel Jones. This bus came along, on a mystery tour, and it was lost. It turned out to be from his old village in the Welsh Valleys. It was full of busty girls. He got on the bus and it drove off. I don't think we're going to see him again."
     "Golly!" exclaimed Corinne.
     "You mean you didn't know anything about it?"
     "Not the way it was going to happen. Anastasia just told the system to get rid of him painlessly, we left the modus operandi to the system. You mean it went to all the trouble of getting a bus full of busty girls to get lost outside his garage, just so that he could be lured away to the Valleys? Golly!"
     "It was my creative parametric specification, Miss," Anastasia reminded her. She was looking in a mirror, trying her hair in different ways, and singing the same snatch of a song over and over to herself in a high, fluting voice.
     "Anastasia has developed a new method of specifying parameters. Instead of typing in the raw values, we just tell it the ultimate end we want to achieve and let the system fill in the gaps. Amazingly, it works far better than the original way, and about twenty times as fast. The girl really is brilliant." Corinne paused in her work at the keyboard, presumably to flood her panties again.
     Anastasia blushed prettily and carried on playing with her hair.
     "We'll have to bring Michaela and the twins and the twins back from Jonesy's place," I said. "Have you been making them grow again?"
     "Only a little bit," pleaded Corinne in a whining voice. "Just cosmetic adjustments."
     "Huh!" I said meaningfully. "How will we get them back? Michaela can't walk that far with her tits bouncing round her knees."
     "They can get a taxi."
     "The taxi belongs to Jones. He's gone."
     Corinne shrugged and spread her hands. "Give it a try. It's no big deal for the system. If it could conjure up a coach-load of girls for Jonesy, I'm sure it will find a taxi-driver from the village to the school. Phone them up and see."
     It worked. A woman with a cultured voice answered. "Mid-Borcestershire Donkey Sanctuary and Taxi Service, how can I help you?" She promised to deliver Michaela, the twins and the twins to St Cat's promptly sometime within the next few hours, and she was as good as her word. The ex-Jones taxi arrived three minutes later, mysteriously driven by a man in clown's costume.
     "No charge," he said, disgorging the girls in the car park. "Madame's orders. Here, have a card." He offered me what turned out to be the menu of a take-away Chinese restaurant. I thanked him politely and he drove off.
     To my intense relief, the cosmetic alterations to Michaela and Corinne's twins seemed to be complete. Their breasts were undoubtedly larger than before — far larger than they had any right to be — but at least, they weren't getting any bigger.
     I addressed Michaela sternly. "You'd better get these girls indoors and dressed decently, then send them down to see their mother in the IT lab. It's probably the first time she's seen her children in their whole lives."

"Sorry, love, I was thinking ..."
     "Thinking? Oh, Jeremy, no! I shouldn't have expected you to be able to think and come at the same time. What were you thinking, darling?"
     "I was wondering about the size of my ... my manhood."
     It made no sense to me. Why should thinking about the size of one's cock while having sex be enough to stop one coming? Perhaps it was me. Was I losing my allure, my attraction.
     "It still feels big enough to me," I said, concentrating hard and giving it a big rippling hug.
     "Oh, sorry, I forgot it was still in there," said Jeremy, removing it somewhat noisily. He inspected it in some detail. "It's not too small, Shan. It's too big!"
     "Too big?" Was such a thing possible, I wondered. "It's not as big as all that, love. I held it gently in both hands. I loved the way the bit I wasn't holding flopped over at the end when it was soft like this.
     He hesitated. "I'm sure it wasn't always as big as this. Can you remember our first time?"
     "Oooh, yes. In the back of the Jaguar!" I went all gooey at the thought, the way I always do.
     "Can you remember how big it was then?"
     "Of course not. It was dark, and you were behind me."
     "Well, it's just that I can't remember it being all that big then. And when I was at school, changing for games, the other boys didn't ever mention it. They used to mention Billie Ruddock's, but not mine."
     "Yours is miles bigger than Billie Ruddock's!"
     "How do you know?"
     "I ... everybody knows how big Billie Ruddock's is. It's common knowledge in Fillamore Deepleigh."
     "So's mine, now," he said sadly. "In the showers, after football, all the rest of the lads are proud of mine. I'm twice as big as any of them. I'm like a mascot."
     "Is that when it's floppy, or hard?"
     "Shan! I don't get hard in the showers after football!" He sounded outraged for some reason. "But like I say, I can't remember it ever being as big as all that at school, yet I can't remember it suddenly growing. Did it feel big to you, that first time?"
     "Size doesn't matter to me," I told him. "If you were as big as a horse ... well, you are, I suppose ... an elephant, then, it wouldn't matter all that much. Smegs always used to make rude remarks about the size of my love-hole. Young girls talk about things like that the whole time."
     "Do they? Anyway, I was wondering. With all these changes lately round here. Girls getting huge tits, and all these things happening with the computer, I was wondering if I'd been made bigger just for you, somehow. As if Corinne did it, yet somehow she did it ten years ago. Is that possible? It sounds crazy, but crazier things have happened lately."
     "You mean, we were made for each other. Literally?"
     "I suppose so. Last week sometime."
     "But that's impossible. We didn't know Corinne ten years ago."
     "You've got a giant-breasted ten year old sister all of a sudden," he reminded me. "And yet you told me you didn't have her until Wednesday."
     He was right. It sounded ridiculous, but it was possible. It had to be.
     "So I want to know," he carried on. "Could Corinne make me smaller, perhaps. Not tiny, just a more convenient size. Half the trouble is it starts out so huge, then it gets so much bigger when it's hard. If she could make it start out a little bit smaller ..."
     A cold sweat started on my forehead. "Smaller? How much smaller?"
     "Six inches, maybe ...?"
     "Six inches! But that's only ..."
     "No, don't be daft! Six inches smaller!"
     I breathed a sigh of relief. I was still disappointed, but relieved at the same time.
     "You'd still be bigger than Billie Ruddock?"
     "Of course!"
     "And it would still get huge when it was hard?"
     "If you like. We'd have to see what Corinne could do."
     "It's Anastasia as much as Corinne," I said. "Corinne says she's brilliant at it. You should have seen the way she got rid of Ezekiel Jones ...!"
     Jeremy had gone pale.
     "It's all right. He went off in a luxury coach with about five dozen busty Welsh girls."
     Jeremy regained a little of his colour, but not all of it by any means. "I still think Corinne had better keep an eye on Anastasia. You know how headstrong that kid is."
     "I'm not happy about this, darling."
     "Sweetheart! It's for me. For my comfort and well-being. You wouldn't want to deny me that, would you?"
     "I suppose not. Just one thing, though. Can we do it one more time, first?"

"But six inches? Shan, that's only ..."
     "No, he meant six inches smaller than it is now."
     Corinne pursed her lips. "I don't know. It's a terrible thing to do to a young man. What do you think, Staze, sweetheart? Would he be any good to you like that?"
     Anastasia carried on brushing her hair. "Size doesn't matter to me, Cee, love," she said airily. "I can squeeze down on just about anything. He's a nice comfortable size as he is, for me."
     "He would be, yes." Corinne considered. "He's much too big for me, for comfort, but that's the thickness more than the length. Did he say he wanted to be thinner, Shannie?"
     "No," I lied. "He wants to be just as thick as he is now. Just six inches smaller when he's soft. Just as big when he's hard. Or maybe just a little bit thicker and longer when he's hard." I crossed my fingers behind my back.
     "Well, as I say, it's not really my decision," said Corinne, "I don't fuck Jeremy often enough to matter. I'll go with your opinion. What do you think, Anastasia?"
     It was obvious what Anastasia thought.
     "Anastasia, please stop touching yourself while you are thinking of my boyfriend," I said sternly.
     She pouted and pulled up her panties in a marked manner. "Hang on, Miss, don't move," she said, and wiped a couple of drops of her female honey from my nose and eyebrows, offering me her finger to lick. Such a considerate girl. I sucked the finger clean, then the other fingers, of both hands.
     "Deliciously tasty, as ever, dear."
     "Sorry, Miss, I must have squirted. There's some juice on your tassel as well," she said, rotating Moggie's mortar board so the tassel was no longer directly in front of my eyes. I thanked her, remembering my headmistressly dignity and stood up, adjusting Moggie's gown on my shoulders.
     "Shouldn't you be wearing something else besides a mortar board and gown, Shan?" Corinne asked.
     "I dressed in a hurry to get down here and see you before you packed up for tea. We were making love."
     "That is all too obvious." Corinne waved her notebook in front of her nose. "A shower after sex is usually considered a mark of politeness to one's fellow workers. You know we always impress the importance of that upon the girls, Shan."
     "I did," I insisted indignantly. "We both had a shower."
     "Together, I suppose?"
     "Yes, as it happens. As if that makes any difference."
     "How many times did you do it in the shower?"
     "Twice."
     "And afterwards?"
     I felt myself blushing prettily. "Only a couple of times. Well, five, actually. I really wanted to get down here to see you two."
     "Oh, never mind. As long as you stay near the extractor vent. You know how it excites Anastasia. Now, Staze, have you thought about Mr Jeremy's cock?"
     "I hadn't stopped thinking about it. I'm thinking about it now. But I'll go with Miss Gruntworthy," she said considerately.
     "Oh, good. That's encouraging, considering whose boyfriend we're talking about. Perhaps we can go ahead and do this thing now?"
     "I think we'd better ask Michaela first, Miss."
     "Michaela?"
     "She likes Mr Jeremy as well, Miss. She probably uses him as much as you do."
     "That's true, Shan. We'd better ask her. She might not want him made smaller at all. Michaela particularly enjoys tit-fucking and giving blow-jobs at the same time ... and well, you know how big her tits are now. Where is she, anyway?"
     "You mean she hasn't seen you yet? I told her to come over with the twins and the twins. Those two little tarts are your daughters, and I bet you've never even seen them yet."
     "Of course I've seen them. They're ten years old."
     "They weren't even created until Thursday, Cee! And they've been down at Jonesy's ever since. You can't have seen them."
     "Well, maybe not, but I'm still their mother. Get them down here at once."
     Anastasia picked up the phone and dialled. "They're on their way," she said a moment later.
     There was one of those long silences, broken only by little panting noises from Anastasia who was obviously thinking about Jeremy's cock again. Then up the corridor a door slammed and footsteps came down toward the lab.
     Michaela came in, followed by Corinne's twins. They stood looking top-heavily around them for a moment, then said, "Hi, Auntie Shannie."
     "This is your mother," I said by way of introduction.
     "Hello, Mummy," said the twins politely.
     "Hi, darlings. Come and give your Mummy a big cuddle." The girls ambled over to Corinne and allowed themselves to be hugged. They looked uncomfortably at me at the same time.
     "Mummy's boobies are nearly as big as ours, Auntie Shannie," said one of them, probably Candy.
     "Auntie Mikki said our next bra will be a custom size!" claimed the other, who might well have been Mandy.
     "That's why we're not wearing any."
     "Can we feed the babies soon, Auntie Michaela?"
     "They'll explode if you feed them again," Michaela complained. Candy and Mandy looked crestfallen. "Oh, all right, go and get them. Just a little drop, though."
     The twins scampered out of the door, returning seconds later with a twin each. To my horror, the girls unbuttoned their blouses, each revealing a quite unnecessarily plump breast. The babies homed in eagerly on the turgid and altogether excessively erect nipples, then set to with a will. The twins closed their eyes and began moaning softly.
     "Did you do this, Anastasia?" Corinne scrolled angrily down the monitor and squinted at the data.
     Anastasia flushed slightly. "No. I made them a bit bigger while you were making Michaela grow this morning. About four cup sizes, actually."
     "Why?" I demanded.
     "I like big breasts," admitted Anastasia simply. "You think these are big, just you wait until you see your sister! But I didn't say anything about lactation. It's not a good thing if some of the First Form girls are lactating. The rest will all want to as well. We had that trouble with Shona, and again with Cassandra. You kept finding other girls taking their tits out in class and sucking their nipples, trying to get milk out."
     "You know what's happened, don't you? You just told the computer to make them four cup sizes bigger. The system did it, but it had to think of a good reason why!" Corinne ranted, as her daughters plucked the babies from their milk-dripping nipples and applied them to the other side. Interestingly, I noticed, they swapped babies at the same time.
     "It must have been spontaneous, with them cuddling the babies all the time," Anastasia said, looking uncomfortable. "What are you doing with all your milk, Mikki?"
     "The twins drink it. The big twins, that is. They'll have a drink as soon as they've fed the little ones."
     Corinne's big twins nodded eagerly and came more or less simultaneously, drenching their shorts and much of their thighs into the bargain.
     "Oh, my God," said their mother. "Look at the little sluts!"
     "I blame the parents," I said. "Mothers don't give their children enough quality time."
     "Piss off, you!"
     "Language, Cee! Not in front of the children." That was Anastasia, looking shocked, or as shocked as it is possible to look while fondling oneself intimately.
     "And you, too. I'm getting out of here. This place stinks of private parts!" Corinne got up from her monitor, glared around her and stormed out.
     "It's not me this time," I shouted after her. "It's Anastasia and the twins ...!"
     "And me," admitted Michaela, groping with her hand somewhere between her breasts.
     "Mummy's always been like that," said a twin sadly, tweaking her shorts away from her crotch with two milky fingers.
     "As long as we can remember," said the other. "Can we stop feeding now, Auntie Mikki?" They disengaged the babies and took them out into the corridor, where the double-width baby buggy was presumably parked. Then they came bouncing back in, eager for their own supper.
     "Not now, girls. Wait till we get back to the dorm, then we'll all get naked on the bed, okay?"
     The twins were disappointed at first, but the idea seemed to have its compensations. "Don't be long, Auntie Mikki," they said together, anxiously, their tongues hanging out like thirsty dogs, their nipples threatening to escape through their milk-soaked blouses. I had to admit, Corinne had been right. The place really did stink of girl. Some of it was probably me.
     "Why did you call us down here, anyway?" Michaela demanded.
     "It was to do with the size of Mr Jeremy's cock," said Anastasia. Corinne's twins stared at her, suddenly enthralled. "He wants to make it smaller."
     "Oh, no!" said Candy.
     "Oh, no!" said Mandy.
     "Oh, no!" said Michaela. "How much smaller?"
     "Six inches."
     "Six inches! But that's only..."
     "No, six inches smaller, he'll still be huge..."
     "Oh, no!" said Candy.
     "Oh, no!" said Mandy.
     "Oh, no!" said Michaela.
     In fact, they said it more or less simultaneously. I had a sudden feeling that I didn't want to hear any more. This whole business was getting out of hand. Anastasia wanted the twins to have bigger breasts. The computer had decided to make them full of milk. And what about my little sister, the girl I had never seen? Jeremy had, though, after his football games with Fillamore Deepleigh United. God alone knew what they had been up to together. And who else had he been rodgering at weekends? Corinne's twins?
     "Never mind six inches shorter," I wailed. "You can cut the bloody thing off altogether!"
     "Can we have it?" asked the twins.
     "May we have it," I corrected them. "And say 'please, Miss' when you do."
     "Please, Miss. May we have it?"
     "No."
     "Why are you cutting it off anyway?" Michaela asked.
     "We're not," said Anastasia. "We'll be using the computer to make it smaller. It won't hurt. Nobody will even notice."
     "I will," Michaela asserted indignantly. Where else will I find a boy as big as I am inside?"
     This sort of thing really makes me cross. "Weren't you paying attention in Sexual PE classes? You should have learned all that in Muscle Control. It's Third Form stuff."
     "It's all right for Third Formers. You know how big I am. Mine was nearly as big as yours when we were in Jeremy's shed, and that was before the twins were born. Sexual PE's boring anyway. It's all toys and stuff. I need real boys. And men!"
     "We'll see about that, young lady. As soon as classes start, you can sit with the Third Form girls until you can control your muscles. I shall expect to see you crushing an unripe cucumber before the end of the first period."
     Michaela shut up and looked glum.
     "He-hee," giggled Candy and Mandy. "Shall we show you how to do it, Auntie Mikki? Later, in the dorm, right?"
     "You'll get a good spanking, you two," growled Michaela.
     "Yes, please." Was that Candy and Mandy, or was it me? Oh, God, I realised. It was me.
     "Not now, Miss," Anastasia said hastily. Let's decide what we're going to do about Mr Jeremy first. If you want a good spanking, you can go off with these three to the dorm."
     "Thanks," I murmured, blushing desperately. This was not suitable behaviour for the headmistress of a respected girls' school. "I don't think Miss Meadowlark's twins ought to be spanking me, not just yet."
     "Oh, Auntie Shannie!"
     "No! I'll get Anastasia to do it later. I'm sorry, but your turn will come, when you're proper students."
     The twins grumbled, but Anastasia shushed them to silence. "Right," she said. "Six inches shorter, half an inch thicker, an inch longer when it's nice and hard! Everybody satisfied with that?"
     Michaela brightened immediately. "You never said you were going to make it bigger when it's hard. Yeah, I'll go with that."
     "Good. We'll do that, then." Anastasia sat on Corinne's still damp chair and typed a few words. She hadn't even asked me what I thought. "How do you spell 'flaccid', Miss?"
     "With a 'c' in the middle, I think. It's a horrible word. Why are you using it?"
     "It's the proper word, Miss. It means soft and floppy. It doesn't look right spelled like that. Are you sure?"
     "Can't you just put 'soft and floppy'?"
     "Anything might happen. It's okay, I left it spelled as it was. It shouldn't matter if it's wrong." She typed again in a flurry, then hit the 'enter' key in triumph.
     The lights flickered and dimmed for about twenty seconds.
     Anastasia looked concerned. "That was a big one. It shouldn't have done as much as that. It might be best if you go and see him, Miss. He's yours, after all."
     "What might be wrong?" My voice rose to a squeal.
     "Oh, nothing much, I shouldn't think. Off you go, Miss. We'll hang on here."

Chapter 41:- Made For Each Other

IT WAS pitch dark in the bedroom. The curtains were drawn.
     "You there, love?" I felt my way in and over to the bed.
     "Hello, you!"
     "You were asleep. Sorry I woke you up. You must have been tired, darling."
     "Well, we did have a bit of exertion earlier on. I feel just nicely relaxed now."
     "Good!" I crept into bed and felt for him. "You're all flaccid," I said. "Soft and floppy. Mmmm, feels nice!" I cupped a hand round it, then the other one. There wasn't as much spare as there usually was, but it still felt lovely and thick. Wow, it was thick!
     "Surely not again, Shan!"
     "Why not? It must be nearly an hour since the last time. Just lie there, I'll get on top."
     God, he was so thick! Getting longer, too. And thicker. And longer and thicker. "Bloody hell, Jeremy! You're huge!"
     "Shut up and stop moaning, girl!"
     I began a slow up and down movement. It's not my best position, as my giant floppers tend to take charge, but at the right speed, things stay reasonably under control. Except that he was still getting bigger. For the first time in my life, I was being thoroughly filled. It felt like someone trying to shove a fist in there, with a boxing glove on. And it just went on and on, getting longer.
     "God, Shan, you're tight as a little girl! You're so good!"
     A little girl, huh? A fresh flood of juice cascaded down around his mighty shaft, then I plunged down again, feeling him deeper inside me than anyone or anything had ever penetrated. Surely Anastasia had only been going to add an inch or so? Of course, with her typing, she could have entered just about anything into the computer. I turned on the bedside light. It started flickering straight away. What was the girl doing?
     It was no good, I was going to have to investigate. I withdrew, leaving Jeremy lying on his back. I almost had to stand up to dismount. By the flickering light of the bedside lamp, I took a look. Oh, my God!
     "Gosh, Auntie Shannie," said two awed little voices. "Look at the size of him!"
     "Eeeek! You two! How long have you been in here?"
     "Only a minute," said Candy.
     "Or five."
     "Maybe ten, then. You'd just started shagging him when we came in. Hi, Uncle Jeremy!"
     "Uncle ...? You've met?"
     "A couple of times," Jeremy admitted, his face reddening in the flickering light.
     "We didn't do anything," said Candy, with a hint of regret.
     "We only showed him our tits. Of course, they're miles bigger now, Uncle Jeremy."
     "So I see."
     "And we give milk, too, now. Only for the babies, though."
     Jeremy looked disappointed, I noticed.
     "He's huge, isn't he?" Mandy said in a whisper.
     "I think something went wrong," I said.
     "Anastasia thought she'd done it wrong. That's why she sent us to stop you before you did some damage to yourself. We were too late. She said it was something to do with centimetres and millimetres instead of inches."
     "She was going to try and change it back."
     "So that's why the light is flashing," I said, rubbing a hand up the awesome length of Jeremy's prong.
     "Can we do that, Auntie ...?"
     "Aa-aa, Mandy. Grammar!"
     "May we do that, please, Auntie?"
     "Good girl, Mandy! No, stop, I didn't say you could do that ...!"
     Too late. Both twins shouldered me aside and began investigating Jeremy with tiny hands.
     "Come on, you two. Out! We're going back to the lab."
     "It's all right, Shan," Jeremy protested weakly, "they're not doing any harm ...!"
     "Out! You, love, had better go and have a cold shower. I'll see you later when I've sorted out the size of that thing."
     The twins bounced along with me, each clutching one of my hands in a moist little paw. I hated to think what had made them moist.

"Sorry, Miss. I think I've corrected it now. It's back to where it was before we started. Perhaps a little bit thicker. And longer. When it's hard. And when it's flaccid as well. But it's not too bad. You didn't try shagging him, did you?"
     "Of course I did. He's my boyfriend!"
     "Gosh, Miss! I thought even you would never take that lot in. What was it like?"
     "Tight," I admitted. "But not painful. Quite a nice feeling, actually!"
     "Gosh! I thought it might be. I mixed up the conversion and only made him six centimetres smaller when he was soft and floppy. Then I made him twenty-five point four centimetres longer when he was hard, instead of millimetres."
     "You should have let me try him, Staze," Michaela whined, licking her lips. "I'm bigger than Miss Gruntworthy. I wanted to go instead of the twins."
     "You shouldn't be doing it yet, it's too soon after the babies," Anastasia said severely. "And if I can't have him, you're certainly not! Anyway, he's back to what he was now. More or less. Probably more."
     "You're not going to mess about with him any more, are you?" I asked.
     "I thought now we'd got him back to normal, we'd have another go. I could try typing in the actual sizes if you like ..."
     "No, leave him alone. He was perfect the way he was. I'm going back to my bedroom and I don't want any more flashing lights, not tonight or ever. Do I make myself clear?"
     "Yes, Miss." Anastasia hung her head, close to tears. "I'm s-s-sorry, Miss!"

Perhaps I was a bit hard on the poor girl. I would make it up to her later and let her spank me. The thought lent wings to my feet as I plunged along the corridor and into the bedroom. Jeremy was coming out of the shower with a towel tied around his middle.
     "Oh, Shannie, not again!"
     "Again!"
     I took it all back. Anastasia had made a wonderful job of Jeremy. Admittedly, he was a little larger than he had been originally, longer and thicker, even when he was soft and floppy, but he wasn't soft and floppy for long.
     "Darling?" Wouldn't it be simpler just to give up football?"
     "I was thinking much the same thing. There's no way I could wear shorts now, anyway."

"I'm sorry I flounced out of the lab like that yesterday. I behaved like a child!"
     "That's all right, Cee. You were right. It did smell a bit sexy in there."
     "It was the way those twins just stood there, feeding Michaela's babies and coming, in public like that. Don't they have any shame?"
     "Kids don't, these days," I sighed."
     "It's my fault. I'm their mother. They're as bad as I was at that age."
     "But you weren't, Cee! It was only since last week, when you created the twins. Until then, you'd grown huge breasts at an early age, but you were innocent. Pure as the driven snow."
     "You don't believe that, do you?" she said scornfully. "I was a horny, disgusting little slut, just like my daughters."
     I gave up. She was brainwashed. "Sweetheart? Have you thought about what we're going to do about all this mess? I know we're stuck with all the daughters and things, now they've been created, but we still need to stop it getting even further out of control."
     "I've been thinking about that. Let's get together with Anastasia and work out a solution."
     "Do we need Anastasia in on this? She's very young and inexperienced."
     "But I'm going to marry her, Shannie! As soon as we've worked out the details!"
     "Marry Anastasia? Are you out of your head? You're both girls, for a start."
     "Women," Corinne corrected me gently. "But the system can take care of that. And that's what gave me the idea. Look, it's nearly lunchtime. You go and shag Jeremy again, then we'll all meet up in here at one o' clock, okay?"
     "Okay."
     But I was preoccupied. Jeremy asked what was wrong.
     "Corinne and Anastasia are getting married."
     "Oh, shit. More expense. I suppose they'll want a present?"
     I snuggled closer. "They won't want much. But it's not that. I wanted us to be married first. Besides, there's another thing ..."
     "What's that?"
     "They're both women."
     "Does that matter all that much these days?"
     "It does to Corinne. She's concerned about her image. And she wants the twins to have a proper daddy. The only thing is she hasn't decided whether it ought to be her or Anastasia."
     "Anastasia's got much bigger tits."
     "Corinne used to have the biggest tits in the whole universe."
     "Not any more."
     "She could, if she wanted. But I think they're going to use the computer to turn one of them into a man."
     "One of her tits?"
     "No. Her or Anastasia. I'm scared, love! It's all gone too far."

The loving couple snuggled together on the settee, twining their fingers in each other's hair. It made me moist just watching them.
     "You see, Shannie, it's like this. Anastasia had this simply fantastic idea of telling the computer what results we wanted, and letting it get on with it. Of course, it screws up occasionally, like Jeremy's cock, but it can do wonderful things, like Ezekiel Jones and the Davies girls. That's when Anastasia had another wonderful idea ..." Corinne bit her lip, shuddered all over and her face took on a deep flush.
     "You see, Miss." Anastasia took over, sensing that her lover was unable to continue. "Instead of letting the system decide, I thought, why don't we ask it to offer us three alternative scenarios. It could offer us hundreds if we wanted, but if we limit it to its best three, we could choose the best." She glanced at Corinne, who was still quivering and gazing up into Anastasia's eyes in adoration. "That was Cee's idea," Anastasia said, going bright red and clutching at her groin with shaking hands.
     "It was mostly Anastasia's," Corinne insisted faintly, before croaking a weak "woo-woo-woo" and subsiding with her face in the sopping wet crotch of Anastasia's jeans.
     "Woo-woo-woo!" Anastasia agreed whole-heartedly.
     "Look, if it would help, I could come back later."
     "No, we'll only be a minute," said Corinne, recovering slightly, although her face remained buried in Anastasia. She took several deep breaths to regain her composure. I could have told her it would do no good. "Oh, woo-woo-woo," she moaned.
     Anastasia was not available for comment.
     I had to take charge. "So what are you going to ask the computer to do this time? And what three alternatives are you going to weigh up?"
     "About us getting married." Corinne's voice would not remain steady. "About which of us is to be the man."
     "She can't be, Miss. She's got babies. That's why Michaela can't become Michael again. Ever!"
     "So you will have to be the man?"
     "Do I look like a man, Miss?"
     One had to admit she didn't. "Is that your maternity smock?" I asked her.
     "No, it's one of Michaela's. Do you like it? I'm thinking of having some babies, too, Miss."
     "Some babies? What's wrong with having just one?"
     "Twins are nice. Cee had twins, and so did Mikki. I thought I might like quads. Then Candy and Mandy could feed them, one to each breast. They're very good at it, and I could easily make sure they have enough milk for four babies. And of course, if I had babies, I couldn't be a man, could I?"
     "Ah, I see now. So if Corinne can't be a man and nor can you, you can't get married, can you?" Corinne certainly couldn't be a man: she was grimly enjoying her fifth orgasm in two minutes.
     "Woo-woo-WOW!" she announced. Anastasia patted her shoulder tenderly and turned Corinne's face up to meet her suctioning lips.
     "Oh, excuse ME! I'll leave you to it." I started to leave.
     "No, wait." Anastasia detached her face from Corinne's and shouted. "We haven't told you what you've got to do. Your new job."
     "My job? I've already got one. I am your headmistress, remember?" Headmistresses are good at heavy sarcasm. It's what we do best.
     Corinne recovered her powers of speech. "We need someone mature, adult, someone with excellent judgement."
     "That sounds like me," I admitted.
     "We're going to be asking the system to do lots of things. It will come up with alternatives. We need you to choose the best one."
     It sounded interesting. "What sort of decisions would I have to make?" I asked cautiously.
     "Some will be more interesting than others. Try one of the easy ones first, and build up. How about Ezekiel Jones, for a start?"
     "What about him? I thought he'd gone."
     "He did, but he might come back. The system gave three options. He went off with Incest Davies's daughters, who are also each others' daughters as well. One option is that Ezekiel Jones is Incest Davies's son, by his own sister. Another is that the girl Bevan is Ezekiel Jones's mother, and also his sister and his first cousin. The other one is that Ezekiel Jones is Incest Davies."
     "Does it matter?"
     "Not in the slightest. That's why we gave you that one as a test case. Which one would you choose?"
     "They're all horrible!"
     "That's incest for you, Miss," Anastasia sighed. "It's not supposed to be a walk in the park."
     "You have to choose one, Shan. Just choose any one, and Bob's your uncle."
     "And your little brother," Anastasia giggled.
     "Stop playing games," I snapped. "What's the point of all this stuff?"
     "We just thought you'd better have some practice before you started on something really important, like your mother."
     "What about my mother?"
     Corinne and Anastasia looked at each other and gulped.
     "How old is Jeremy, Miss?"
     "Not much older than me, is he? About twenty-five or six?"
     "Yes. His mother used to go out to work in the evenings ..."
     Corinne took over. "And your mother baby-sat for her. Before you were born, it was, while Jeremy's dad was still around the village. Anyway, Jeremy's dad came home from the pub earlier than usual, and he found your mother babysitting. Anyway, he'd always fancied her ..."
     "You don't mean ...?"
     Corinne nodded.
     "But that means I'm ... I'd be ... Jeremy's sister?"
     "Sort of, yes!"
     "Sort of? You mean I've been sleeping with my own brother all this time?"
     "Not necessarily!"
     "Now what?"
     Anastasia took a deep breath. "Because you know how Jeremy's mum used to be a hot bit of stuff in the old days? Well, your dad used to fancy her."
     "Oh, no!"
     "Yes. So ... well, Jeremy's your brother!"
     "Ah-ha! You're wrong, see, clever clogs. If he's my brother because my dad's his dad, I can't be his sister if his dad's my dad. You can't have it both ways!" I sat back and grinned at them both. "Well?"
     Corinne looked unhappy. "You have to choose which one, Shan. The system only gave us three alternatives."
     "Three? That's only two. What's the other one?"
     "The other? That your dad is your dad and Jeremy's dad is Jeremy's. In Fillamore Deepleigh, Shan? Home of the Uncontrollable Horniness?"
     "There is another alternative, Miss. That your dad isn't your dad at all but is Jeremy's, and Jeremy's dad isn't his dad at all but he is yours. We can probably rule that one out, even in Fillamore Deepleigh."
     "I see what you mean. But really, what you're saying is, I can't marry Jeremy?"
     "You want to marry him? But he sleeps with everybody, Miss! With me. With Michaela, even!"
     "So do I! What's that got to do with anything?"
     "But Miss. He sleeps with schoolgirls! He probably sleeps with Cee's twins."
     "So would I if I got the chance!"
     "He sleeps with your little sister, Shannie!"
     "You should see her tits, Miss."
     "I don't care. I want to marry Jeremy. I love him. We were made for each other!"

Chapter 42:- Daughters Of The Upper Sixth

"YOU KNOW how we were made for each other, Shan?"
     I nuzzled his cheek. It felt like sandpaper on the end of my nose. "Hm-mm?"
     "Well, I was thinking."
     "Again?"
     He ignored me. He's very rude sometimes. "I was thinking about your bottom."
     "My bottom?" I thought about my bottom for a while, but it didn't inspire me at all. I even ran a hand across it. The whole thing felt pretty much as usual, taut, rounded and feminine. "What about it?"
     "It's very nice and everything, in its way, don't get me wrong. It's just that ... sometimes, I wish you were a bit bigger."
     "Bigger? You mean, all over?"
     He laughed for some reason. "No, you're quite big enough elsewhere. You're just a nice height, and your boobs are big enough for me ..."
     "I'm glad to hear it. You could always have Michaela of course, or Anastasia, theirs make mine look like yours."
     "I know."
     God, he can be so insensitive.
     "But yours are okay. I'm perfectly happy with yours. It's just your bottom. If it was a bit bigger ..."
     "How big would you like it to be?"
     "I don't know. I can't compare it to anything."
     "As big as Pansy's?"
     "Bigger than that."
     "As big as Suzanne's?"
     "Bigger than that, even."
     "Sexy Amy's then?"
     "No, bigger than hers."
     I mentally ran through the girls in the school, sifting and rejecting. "Daisy Buttermilk? Fanny Thundersley?" Jeremy shook his head, although I could see I was getting closer to his ideal. Time to raise my sights. "You don't mean something like Gwendoline Upcock?"
     That did it. Jeremy clutched at my buttocks with both hands and thrust into me with renewed vigour and hardness. I should remind you that we were lying side by side all this time, and I had forgotten that he was inside me up to the hilt. "Gwendolyn Upcock!"
     "Yes!"
     "But she's gross!"
     "Her waist is a bit thick, I'll grant you that. But keep your own waist. Your tits are about the same size as hers."
     "As big as hers were before she left, you mean. She went to Leeds University. Two B's and a C. Media Studies, whatever they are. That was last year. She could be even bigger by now."
     The effect of that was to make Jeremy finally ejaculate in a fairly heroic manner. I waited until he seemed to have more or less finished.
     "You mean you fancied her? Her bum was shamefully huge. Shameful."
     "It wasn't all that big, Shan." Jeremy was red-faced and panting. "She told me she had forty-six inch hips."
     "Oh, she did, did she? Where? In bed?"
     "Of course not," he protested. "It was on the bus going into Borcester."
     "You were shagging Gwendolyn Upcock on the bus going into Borcester?"
     "I wasn't shagging her at all. We were just talking."
     "And she just happened to tell you her measurements?"
     "Of course not. I asked her. She'd forgotten to take her readout off, and I could see her bust was a hundred and fifteen or so, and her waist was thirty-nine, but I couldn't see her hips the way the light was reflecting off the card. So I asked her. It was forty-six."
     "And you want me to have forty-six inch hips? I'd look ghastly."
     "Not forty-six necessarily," Jeremy groaned, although he had become instantly hard again, so something had evidently pulled his chain. "Forty-four or five would do ... oh, oh, wow! Shannie!"
     I had decided to take direct action to accelerate his release. It involved a strategically placed finger. Then I got out of bed.

"He wanted what, Shan? Stop mumbling like that."
     "A shamefully huge bottom. Shameful."
     "Is that the front bottom, Miss, or the back? 'Cos your front bottom is already as big as they get, Miss, no disrespect."
     "None taken, Anastasia. I am aware of my front bottom. No, he meant the back one. All of it," I said hastily as Anastasia thought of something else to say. "My hips and buttocks are too small. He wants them to be as big as Gwendolyn Upcock's!"
     "Wow!" said Corinne. "He doesn't mess around, does he?"
     Anastasia looked disappointed. "I thought you liked your bottom, Miss. You said it was taut, rounded and feminine."
     "It is. Jeremy wants it to be taut, rounded and feminine, and twice as big. Forty-five inches round."
     "But that's shameful, Miss! Shameful."
     "That's what I told you."
     "We can't do it now, Shan, we're far too busy with the daughters. We could fit you in next week sometime, after the girls all come back."
     "We have to sort out the daughters before they come back, Miss."
     "What about the daughters?" I had a feeling I didn't want to hear this next bit.
     "Just a bit of a bug," said Anastasia.
     "Nothing serious, Shan. Anastasia can fix it."
     "What is it?"
     There was one of those silences. The two of them looked at each other. Finally, Corinne appointed herself spokeswoman.
     "Anastasia wrote a little subroutine for daughterisation. It was meant to save time. She's so good at that sort of thing." I could see how good Corinne thought Anastasia was at that sort of thing. She gazed into Anastasia's eyes with lust and admiration, then adjusted her crotch for a few seconds before she was able to continue. "There was a slight problem. We were daughterising the Upper Sixth. There are ... how many, love ...?"
     "Thirty-seven," Anastasia said.
     "Thirty-seven girls. We had allocated fourteen of them to have daughters."
     "Fourteen of them? But that's disgraceful."
     "We couldn't do them all, Miss!"
     "As Anastasia says, we couldn't do a mass daughterisation in this case. It would have been easier, but eleven of the class are already pregnant at the moment and the system came up with a refusal error on all those ..."
     "A what?"
     "It's where the system tries to accommodate them but it can't make them conceive at the right time. We're talking ten, eleven years ago, here ..."
     "So we could provide instant replacements when their mothers leave school, Miss. Their daughters come straight in as they leave. It means they had to have been born when their mothers were seven or eight, of course ..."
     "Oh, of course."
     "The system refused them entry to the school at eleven, because they had three-year-old kids to look after," said Anastasia. "And the woman who was headmistress at the time wouldn't let them in."
     "So, since they're already here," Corinne explained, "the only options are to give them younger daughters, born after they came to St Cat's, or ..."
     "Zap them!" declared Anastasia flatly.
     "You can't do that!"
     "I know we can't," said Corinne. "We tried hard enough, but they're pregnant, you see, and the system won't let us zap pregnant girls. It's a damned nuisance, but there it is."
     "I can imagine it was a nuisance," I said drily.
     "It was. Anyway, we tried giving them younger daughters, then changing the ages of the girls as a separate operation, but we got a refusal error on that as well."
     "It was beginning to look as if we would have to have a five year continuum displacement," said Anastasia, with a laugh, "and you know what that would do!"
     "I do?"
     "Don't even think about it, Miss! If the system ever asks you to authorise a continuum displacement, turn it down flat."
     "Oh, I will. So what are you doing now?" They hadn't been doing anything that I could see when I had walked into the IT labs to get my hips made shamefully large. Shameful.
     "It's rendering, Miss. I've asked for a model of what might have happened if Miss Thunderbolt had been headmistress when the present Upper Sixth girls were just starting at St Cat's. That was six years ago."
     "Hang on! That was ..." I did some calculations on my fingers. "I was still here, in the Sixth Form. Moggie was missing at the time, in America or something."
     "That's probably why it's taking so long, Miss. It has to find out where she was at the time, get rid of the old headmistress, promote Miss Thunderbolt, and then start making all the other adjustments to everything that's happened since. We've had nothing on the screen but a cursor for the last four hours."
     "But when it finishes? You mean it will change everything?"
     Corinne sighed with deep patience. "Not automatically, Shan. It will go away and find two more alternatives. Then it will offer them to us to choose one. That's your job, of course."
     "Oh, of course. So when is all this going to happen?"
     "At this rate, I can't see us resuming daughterisation for another six hours at least. Say eight o' clock tonight. I should go back to bed, if I were you. We certainly are, aren't we, Staze?"
     "You go along, Cee," purred Anastasia huskily. "I'll go over to the restaurant and collect the strawberries and cream"
     "Oh, whoopee, Staze! You're going to let me eat strawberries and cream out of your front bottom again?"
     I decided it was time I got out of here. Already I was feeling slightly queasy.

I was not entirely overjoyed to find Corinne's twins in the bedroom.
     "Hi, Auntie Shannie", said Candy. I think I could recognise her now. Mandy was concentrating hard on what she was doing.
     "You're back early, Shan." Jeremy sat up hurriedly in bed, and Mandy rolled on to her back in an undignified manner.
     "You ought to be wearing underwear, girls," I suggested kindly, as a godmother should.
     "Ours is all wet," said Candy.
     "It's just been washed," Mandy elaborated, seeing my expression. She pulled her T-shirt down to cover herself. It was almost long enough.
     "We were giving Mr Jeremy his lunch." Candy showed me a dish of strawberries and cream, which reassured me only slightly.
     "It's girl-cream, of course," said Mandy.
     "Oh, of course. How long have you been in here, you two?"
     "Since just after you left."
     "How do you know what time I left?"
     "We watched you go. Mr Jeremy was starving. He really lapped it up." Candy placed the last strawberry into Jeremy's mouth with her fingers, then licked the dish with a surprisingly long pink tongue.
     "Would you like another drink now, Mr Jeremy?" Mandy hoisted the front of her T-shirt. A fat breast plopped out and began to dribble on to the duvet.
     "He's not thirsty, Mandy," I told her sharply. "I think it's time you went out to play in the sunshine. It's not good for little girls to be cooped up indoors all day."
     "We're all right, Miss. The sun comes through the window, look." Mandy stretched out on her back. The sunshine did, in fact, reach her in that position. You could have used her nipple as a sundial.
     "No, come on!" I took her hand and pulled her upright. She sat on the edge of the bed and pouted.
     "If I can't feed Mr Jeremy, I'll be leaking all over the place. It will mess up my shirt. I'll tell Mummy it was your fault."
     She dragged her feet as I hauled her to the door.
     "Out!"
     Candy sighed deeply and took her twin's hand. "Come on, twin," she said. I began to wonder if even they knew which was which. "Let's go and find some boys down the village."
     The door closed behind them.
     "They're not going out looking for village boys!" Jeremy was horrified.
     "Probably."
     "But you can't let them go down the village, they're no age at all!"
     "They're no concern of mine: they're not students at St Cat's. For all I know they're just figments of the computer's imagination."
     "They felt real enough to me," Jeremy muttered. He dipped a finger into a small puddle of milk in the bottom of the strawberry dish. "Look, Candy must have been leaking as well. I've never seen so much milk."
     "It's because you encourage them. The more you feed, the more they produce."
     "It isn't me! They're feeding Michaela's twins. I've hardly had anything at all from them. They said they'd been milked down in the restaurant kitchen two hours ago. It's not natural to have as much as that, surely?"
     "Since when was anything natural around here? You should hear what those two are doing now down in the IT lab."
     "Who, Corinne's twins?"
     "You're bloody obsessed with those twins. Corinne and Anastasia, that's who!"
     Jeremy looked disappointed. "They haven't done your bottom yet."
     "No, they can't do me until next week. They're daughterising the Upper Sixth. It's taking hours. They might have to make Moggie headmistress six years ago!"
     "Hey, great! Good old Moggie!"
     "You'll be saying good old Moggie on the other side of your face when that happens. It means rewriting history for the past six years. Anything might happen."
     "Why are they going to make Moggie headmistress six years ago anyway? I thought Corinne didn't like Moggie."
     "It's all to do with the daughterisation. I couldn't understand half of what Anastasia was telling me. They've given daughters to practically the whole of the Upper Sixth Form, plus half the school besides, and ..."
     "How big?"
     "What?"
     "How big are these daughters they've given the Upper Sixth?"
     "About ten or eleven, I think. It's so that when the girls leave, the daughters start in the First Form."
     "Bloody hell!" Jeremy wriggled around in the bed. "Are they all going to have tits like ...?"
     "I didn't ask about their tits. Probably, though, knowing Anastasia. She keeps telling me about my sister ..."
     "Janufa? You wait till you see hers, Shannie! You've seen nothing! Nothing!"
     "Anyway, that's what it's all about. Apparently, the Upper Sixth Form girls can't join St Cat's six years ago because they had young daughters to look after. They're thinking of changing the headmistress to Moggie, to see if Moggie would let them join the school.
     "I'm sure she will."
     "Will have. Or would have. Not will. If she did, or would have done, then she already has, or will have, or would have."
     Jeremy wrinkled his nose. "I never liked English grammar, Shan. It's why I'm just a caretaker and you're the youngest ever headmistress of St Cat's."
     "I might not be. By the time history's been rewritten, I might have been expelled for shagging in the middle of the quadrangle."
     "You wouldn't do that, would you?"
     "I might have done."
     "With me?"
     "Who else? Who else would have me, six years ago. I was an insecure teenager then."
     "You were legal, though, Shannie." He considered for a while. "How big were your tits?"
     "You know how big they were. You were there."
     "I prefer them the way they are now. Can't you arrange to have vast tits six years ago? Ask Anastasia."
     "All these changes in history, and all you want is for me to have vast tits six years ago? It doesn't matter anyway. Once it happens, we won't be six years ago, we'll be now. The lights will flicker and it will be now."
     "Can't they protect our whatsit, our patterns?"
     "I don't know. I don't know anything any more. But if they do, and we're the way we are now, what if there was an earthquake five years ago? We'd fall down this great hole in the ground where St Cat's used to be."
     I crawled on to the bed and hugged his big body. I was sitting in a puddle of Mandy-milk, or it might have been Shan-juice. Or both.
     "Make me a baby, darling! If I'm pregnant, with your baby growing inside my tummy, I won't be able to be zapped."
     "What do you think we've been doing twenty times a day, Shannie?"
     "Have you been really trying, love?"
     "I can't think of a better way of making babies that we've been doing. I've probably pumped enough steaming sperm into your yawning love cavern to impregnate the whole of England. Or even the whole of St Cat's."
     Jeremy must have been reading smut again. Obviously he wasn't getting enough sex.
     "I'm scared, darling. I have to make this decision, this choice of three scenarios. I have to say which one I choose, and Corinne will press a key on the computer, then it will be done. Just like that. Anything might happen!"
     "We'll be here, sweetheart. Together. We'll be all right."
     Jeremy does come out with most awful hokum sometimes.

Continued