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 BIG FEATURE AT ST CAT'S

   by Some Sort of Dog





   WARNING: This warning is slightly different every time, but it always
says more or less the same thing.  This story features schoolgirls with
large breasts.  If you don't want to read about such things, you know what
to do.  If you are a minor, wherever you live, read no further.  It is
probably against the law for you to read this material.

   Although our young heroines are no more pure and virginal than any other
human beings in their position, they are not depicted here as having sexual
relations with adults.  Such a prospect, indeed, would fill them with
horror and disgust.  The story is a fantasy.  Some fantastic things may
well happen, but NOBODY gets raped, killed, or explodes.  You want that,
there's plenty of such crudity available elsewhere.  Go find it.



   AUTHOR'S NOTE: Many of the characters in this story have appeared
before. Although it is not strictly necessary, it might help if readers are
already familiar with the other stories in the series.  Details are given
at the end of this story.









   BIG FEATURE AT ST CAT'S

   by Some Sort of Dog









   Part VI









   Chapter 16:- Visitor By Night



   Smegs let her in.  The girl crept through the door, and stood just
inside, peering around in the shaded light of the bedside lamp.  I ducked
down under the duvet and hoped to disappear.  "Shan?  It's for you," said
Smegs.  And she got back into bed.  She actually got back into bed.

   I emerged from the bed covers and peered at the girl.  "Abi?  You
shouldn't be up here.  This is out of bounds.  What's the matter?"

   "I've got bigger again, Miss.  Look!"

   She stepped out of the shadows.  She was wearing the M&S nightie she had
been given for the film.  The last time I had seen her wearing it, she had
been lost in it.  It was like a tent on her.  I thought, that's the trouble
of sending a man to buy a nightie for a little girl.  Now, though, as I
could see, the thing wasn't nearly big enough.  I swung my legs out of the
bed to take a closer look at her.  Abi looked at my nakedness with
interest.

   "Gosh, Miss, you're fantastic!"

   It was really a waste of time blushing prettily in semi-darkness, but I
thought I'd better do it, just in case.

   Abi's breasts, which had been full and firm when she had loaded them
into Pansy's bra earlier that afternoon were now a whole lot fuller and
heavier.  The overburdened nightie sloped outwards from just below her
shoulders, and was still sloping out for some way past her waist.

   "Come here, Abi," I told her, and she came willingly to the side of the
bed.  I could feel the heat being radiated from her breasts.  "When did all
this happen?"

   "I woke up, and it was about midnight.  I had to go to the loo again."

   "Of course."

   "And when I reached the door, I thought, this doesn't feel right, but I
guessed it was because I wasn't used to them without a bra, but when I got
to the bogs - sorry, Miss - the toilet, I had my shit, and wiped my bottom
..."

   I would have been happier with a little less of the intimate detail.

   "...  and it was *ever* such a good one, but then, after I'd flushed it
away, I came out and saw the mirror, and I thought, bloody hell.  Sorry,
Miss!"

   "No, no, Abi!  I think it was quite a reasonable comment under the
circumstances."

   "And I lifted up my nightie to have a look at them.  Like this, Miss."

   She demonstrated, hoisting the nightie up in front.  "Bloody hell," I
gasped.  "Those are some serious tits, Abi!  Thanks, you can put your
nightie down now."

   "Shit, Miss, they're still growing!" She was staring at herself in the
mirror.

   "They are?"

   "Yeah!  In the loo, they were down to about there, because I was
scratching my Thing.  You know, my ...  well, my ..."

   "I know, Abi.  Your Thing!"

   "Yes, Miss.  And I could see all of my hand.  Now I can hardly see it at
all!"

   She was scratching her Thing again.  Either it was always itchy, a bit
like Smegs, or she enjoyed the feeling, a lot like me.

   There's one thing, Miss."

   "Are you thinking the same thing as me, Abi?"

   "It's going to make a right mess of the film, Miss."

   I was right, that's just what I was thinking.

   "They'll just have to rewrite the ending.  Now they've shot all the
early scenes, they won't want to start again.  Once Martin and Bob see your
new titties, and Pubella and Gudrun, of course, they'll write a new ending.
Don't you worry."

   "Oh, Miss." Her face crumpled and she flung herself at me, throwing her
arms around my neck and burying her face in my cleavage.  I could feel her
hot breasts pressing against mine.  It was a weird feeling, knowing that
hers were still getting bigger.

   "There, there, Abi," I comforted her, with great originality, and held
her close.  She whimpered loudly and clung tighter, shaking the bed.

   Smegs grunted, turned over and sat up.  "What the bloody hell are you
doing?  Shan!  What are you doing with that girl?"

   I didn't answer, as I didn't really know.  All I did know was that I was
getting terribly turned on.

   Abi let go of my neck and sat up straight on my lap.  Smegs's eyes
goggled.  "Bloody Nora, Shan, look at the kid's tits!"

   "I'd noticed them, yes.  They're growing."

   "Growing.  Growing?  You mean, now?"

   "Yes, Miss.  I was scratching my Thing in the bogs..."

   "Your Thing?  You mean...?"

   "Yes, Miss, I went in for a shit and afterwards, I wiped my bum, then
when I came out I looked in the mirror and they were bigger, but at least I
could see my hand.  And I scratched my Thing just now, and I could only see
half my hand.  So they're still growing."

   Smegs was staring at her with horror.  "Are you wearing panties," she
asked.

   "No, Miss.  I was in bed."

   "Oh fuck!" Smegs looked disgusted.  "Let's see your tits, then.  Sit on
the bed and let's watch them growing."

   Abi contentedly crawled on top of the bed and sat down beside Smegs's
feet.  My feet were cold, and I swung my legs into the bed as well, so Abi
was sitting in the depression between us.  We sat in silence for a while.
It was like watching paint dry.

   "They feel bigger," said Abi, as if she was afraid we were losing
interest.  It was difficult to see whether they were getting bigger or not,
she was sitting with her legs in front of her, and they were squashed
against her thighs anyway.

   "Are you going to sit and watch those things all night, Smegs?" We had
been waiting for signs of growth for twenty minutes.  I was nearly asleep.

   "I want to see them grow," she muttered obstinately.  I knew that tone
of voice.  Smegs would wait until morning if necessary.

   Abi decided to make polite conversation.  "Do you always sleep with Miss
Mountains, Miss Gruntworthy, or were you just fucking?"

   "Abi!" I was wide awake again.  Smegs awaited my reply with interest.

   "I was feeling cold, so Miss Mountains suggested I came in her bed."
Smegs snorted and hid her face.  I thought I detected amusement at my use
of the word 'came'.

   "It's cold out here," whined Abi.  "Can I come in the bed as well?  I
won't kick or snore or do rude things or make any nasty smells.  You'll be
able to see if I grow then."

   "How can we see if you grow if you're under the bedclothes," I growled,
desperately.

   "Well, you can feel, then.  I'll let you feel my tits, Miss.  Both of
you if you like.  You can feel one each!" She didn't wait for an answer. 
There was a minor disturbance and there she was between us!  "Night night!"
she murmured, and lay down.  We had to fit ourselves into what was left of
the bed once Abi had occupied the prime real estate in the middle.

   Now that St Cat's was beginning to acknowledge that a double bed was a
necessity for the larger girls, I could almost have submitted a convincing
case to have one for myself.  Smegs's double bed was a very comfortable fit
for herself and me.  Add a growing girl between us and the bed became
overcrowded.  I lay on my back feeling decidedly sulky.  My right breast
was trying to escape over the edge of the bed, my left one was squashed
against something hot and soft, presumably one of Abi's.  I could only
imagine Smegs was in the same discomfort.  It wasn't much consolation.

   Abi's promises not to kick, snore, do rude things or make nasty smells
were all long-forgotten memories within the first ten minutes.  In fact,
she was managing to do all four at the same time.  Fortunately, most of the
rude things she was doing were happening to herself or to Smegs. 
Unfortunately, that left most of the more anti-social things happening to
me.  After an hour, I could stand it no longer.

   I crawled out of bed, and with all the dignity I could muster, I went to
my own room and crept between my freezing sheets.



   **********

   "Oh, so you got your arse out of bed then?"

   Heavy irony is lost on Smegs sometimes.  "Yes, thank you.  Sleep well?"

   "Eventually, in my own cold, damp bed, yes."

   "It's not my fault it's damp, is it?"

   She began cutting up her bacon with a noise like someone sawing through
human gristle.  I was determined to make no attempt to ask the question.

   "Has Abi gone back to her dorm," I asked, my determination lasting at
least five seconds.

   Smegs nodded, her mouth full.  She was already working on reducing an
egg to bite-sized plastic pieces.  Spearing one, she aimed it in the
direction of her mouth, then changed her mind and anointed her plate with
another glop of tomato ketchup.  I averted my gaze.  It was like a scene in
an abattoir.  An absolute shambles.

   It was all of five relatively silent minutes later that Smegs polished
her plate with a slice of bread, belched decisively and sat back.  She was
resting before an assault on the toast.

   "Six o' clock, it was.  She got up and said she had to go.  I assumed
she meant back to her own bed, but it might have been somewhere else."

   "The bog, I imagine.  There must be something wrong with that girl's
insides."

   "Nothing wrong with her tits though," Smegs chuckled lasciviously. 
"They grew some more after you'd gone."

   "After I'd gone?  You mean, you were awake?  You heard me go?"

   "Course I was awake.  How was I supposed to sleep with that little hussy
rubbing her nipples against me?  At least, once you'd gone, we had more
room, and she stopped kicking my shins.  She gives quite excellent tongue,
by the way."

   "Oh, Smegs!  How could you?"

   "I didn't do anything.  It was her!" She sounded genuinely aggrieved.

   "You could have kicked her out."

   "I suppose so," she sighed.  "But you know how I am when someone with an
excellent tongue gets to work on me.  I just melt.  Well, I just melted."

   Fickle slut.  My so-called bestest friend.  "How big are they now," I
heard myself asking.

   Smegs held up both hands and described an improbable object in mid air.
She thought about it for a while with her head tilted, then made the object
longer and wider.  "Bigger than yours, then," I taunted her cruelly.

   "Oh, yes.  Much bigger than mine!"

   "I'll see for myself soon enough.  I've got the Seconds this morning for
Basic Blushing."

   "You won't see Abi.  She won't be there."

   "Why not?  They're not scheduled to shoot any more of the film until
this afternoon."

   "She's seeing Moggie.  I told her to see her about emergency bras and
clothes and stuff.  Moggie has set up a contingency fund for sudden
expansion cases.  She's slashed the budget for International Students by
reducing their Upper Blouse Threshold to eighty inches."

   "Sneaky cow!"

   "The money has to come from somewhere, she told me."She said it doesn't
grow on trees.  I think she's still mad at me for ordering the beds and
that wheelbarrow."

   "Essential items, both of them."

   "Not the wheelbarrow, she says.  Apparently, Shona keeps crashing into
things.  Glass doors and the like.  Shona says it hurts her breasts to go
round corners."

   "That's no excuse to try to go straight through any obstacle in her
path."

   "Explain that to Shona.  Perhaps you can get it into her head that if
she turns to one side or the other, the breast on the outside of the turn
will be stretched away from her body.  She should compensate by bending her
knees slightly and moving closer to the back of the barrow.  Not Shona! 
Oh, no!  She comes to an obstacle, turns sharp right, says 'Ouch!'
straightens up and crashes into it.  She ran over some Fourth Formers the
other day.  They weren't at all happy.  That barrow weighs a ton with her
tits loaded in it."

   "I'll speak to her about it."

   "Don't be surprised if Moggie has a word with you.  She was saying that
as Comptroller of Bra Studies, wheelbarrow training is your baby.  But
that's not all.  There's the milk."

   "MILK?"

   "You remember how Shona was giving milk when she was in the sick bay? 
Well, Sister thought she'd stopped.  But the wheelbarrow seems to be
stimulating her flow.  In fact, she's started to give quite a reasonable
yield."

   "Smegs, no!  You are not going to start milking Shona."

   "No, of course not.  Anyway, we can't.  We gave Baps all the equipment.
But I thought just the odd pint or so at weekends, enough for our coffee
and corn flakes ..."

   "Smegs!"

   "It wouldn't do any harm, Shan!  Anyway, she's driving her barrow around
and her blouse is getting all wet round the ends of her tits, and there's a
puddle of the stuff slopping around in the bottom of the barrow.  Cats are
starting to follow her around the school.  It spills out when she crashes,
and stains the floors.  If we drank it, we'd only be doing everyone a
favour."

   "I don't like it, Smegs.  Shona's not a cow, she's a girl."

   "We wouldn't be making any money out of it."

   "No, it's not right."

   "Good, I'll see to it, then.  I can get her hand-milked morning, noon
and night.  Jeremy or Darren or the disco-lad can still do hand milking. 
She'll feel much better for it."









   Chapter 17:- Make This The Big One



   "Chauntaille, darling, come in and sit down.  Not there, come round and
sit close to me on the desk where I can fondle you!"

   "Yes, Miss!" I complied meekly and slid my bottom on to the shiny
desktop.  My thighs, bare above the tops of my stockings, squeaked on the
polished green leather.  Moggie placed a friendly hand on the inside of my
leg, and not wishing to give offence, I parted my knees several more
inches.

   "Ooooh, that's lovely, Shan!  I could fondle you all day.  No wonder
Megan gets so jealous ...!  Still, that's not why I called for you." Her
attentions were making it hard to concentrate.  I placed my hand on top of
hers and moved it slightly.  "How is the teaching going?  You've been very
busy lately, I know.  Coping all right?"

   "Oh, yes, Miss.  It's a challenge, teaching two classes different
subjects simultaneously." I moved her hand a bit more, and gave a shudder
as her fingers crept inside the crotch of my panties.  It became necessary
to spread my legs a few more inches.

   "Good," purred Moggie.  "I have been thinking of ways to reduce the load
on you and Megan.  We haven't had a good three-way fucking session for
weeks, have we?  Anyway, I am going to employ another teacher.  An angel
has come up with the money, as it were."

   "An angel, Miss?" It was time for another shudder as several of her
fingers found what they were seeking for.

   "God, Shan!  You are so big down there!"

   "Yes, Miss!"

   "An angel, yes." I took my hand off hers and placed both my hands
slightly behind me on the desk for support as I slid my hips forward to the
edge of the desk.  Moggie leaned towards me and our mouths met, with parted
lips and questing tongues.  "I slep ...  I saw an old friend last night,
and he agreed that we were underfunded.  To cut a long story short, we can
afford a new teacher.  But where do you fit in?"

   "Me, Miss?" I was beginning to pant.

   "You, darling!  You are due to return to college after the Summer
holidays.  Perhaps you ought to reconsider your future plans?  Fuck ME!"

   I looked down to confirm the cause of Moggie's last exclamation.  Her
whole hand had disappeared, up to the wrist.  We looked at each other,
wide-eyed.

   "My plans, Miss," I quavered.

   "We need you here, Shan.  Of course, it will mean a substantial raise in
your salary." She had evidently given up her left hand as missing in
action. She was now moving in with the right one.  Her fingers approached
from the other side of my crotch gusset.

   "You do, Miss?"

   "We do, Shan."

   "I'm sorry, Miss!" Moggie looked at me sharply for a moment.  "I'm
sorry. I've made a puddle on your desk!"

   "Oh, my sweet little darling!  Come and sit on Moggie's lap!  Make
puddles on Moggie instead!"

   Wow!  seemed an appropriate thing to say.  "Wow!" I said, and shifted
myself and my soggy panties on to Moggie's lap.

   Half an hour later, Moggie outlined her plans for me and for St Cat's.
She summed up.  "So, we will be interviewing two new applicants.  One is a
man, or rather, a male.  Never taught before, but quite a good background.
The other one is a woman, younger than you and Megan, but excellent
qualifications." She opened her drawer and pulled out a photograph.

   I studied it briefly.  "Are those things REAL?"

   "We'll have to find out at the interview.  Just you and me and Megan,
this time.  It was perhaps a mistake involving the girls in the
interviewing procedure.  We may have worn out some perfectly sound
applicants last time by subjecting them to quite so much intensive sex at
the hands of such inexhaustible schoolgirls."

   "But the girls weren't actually fucking them, were they?"

   "The Juniors weren't.  But what they *were* doing was far more
demanding, apparently.  Mr Ackroyd, Dennis ..." her eyes misted over "...
will never be the same again.  Retirement on grounds of ill-health.  Same
as Sir Roger.  They can't handle it after a certain age!"

   "How old is the male applicant?"

   "Mr Windlesham?  Getting on for middle age.  Two boys at public school."
She studied a piece of heavily embossed paper.  "Gosh!  Eton.  Divorce
coming up.  No teaching experience, but deeply consuming interest in the
Environment, Youth Issues, the Plight of the Inner Cities ..."

   "He sounds ..."

   "...like a right Burke, yes.  Still, he'd be an impressive acquisition
for St Cat's."

   "When are they ...?"

   "I thought Friday.  Then we could decide on our choice over the weekend.
All three of us, together?"

   "Sounds yummy!"

   "Great!  That's decided, then.  Right, when's your next class?"

   "I've got the Second Form for Basic Blushing."

   "Aaaah, cut it!  Let them practise blushing by themselves.  Get your
gear off and let's take the phone off the hook!" She extracted her wrist
from my aching snatch and lowered me to the floor with surprising
strength...



   **********

   Moggie completely forgot to mention Abi's newly huge breasts, or Shona's
erratic barrow-driving.  When I emerged from her office, feeling as if I'd
gone fifteen rounds with an industrial vacuum cleaner, I had barely the
energy to stagger along to the film studio, where the crew was scratching
its heads and staring at Abi in blank amazement.

   Smegs had been right about the girl growing some more in the night.  The
script called for Abi to be dressed in the same school uniform as in the
previous day's scene, the one with the inflation pump.  A new blouse, one
of Suzanne's, replaced the one so cruelly savaged by the Biggest Breasts in
the World.

   Jeremy held up the repaired Biggest Breasts in the World helplessly,
then tossed them on the desk.  "We won't have any use for these," he
decided.

   Pubella tore her eyes away from Abi's straining chest and looked at
Martin.  "Can we use part of yesterday's shot, Mar, where Abi grows?"

   "With a change of angle, probably, yes.  What did you have in mind?"

   "Like she started growing, and you came round behind her, looking over
her shoulder, then when you got to about ...  here ...  she got huge and
burst."

   "That's right.  So by coming round to ...  here ...  we could cut to a
new shot showing Abi's real new breasts ..." Martin still looked
disbelievingly at the girl's overloaded blouse.  "Are they big enough for
your purposes, Pubella?"

   Any sarcasm was apparently lost on Pubella.

   "They are a bit smaller than we *really* wanted.  Smaller than Gudrun
wanted, anyway, but we can probably get away with them as they are.  It
will save us time later, with the make-up we'd have had to do, fitting the
Biggest Breasts in the World to Abi for the topless shots."

   "This is true," said Martin.  "Right, let's go for it.  You ready,
Robert?"

   "Ready, Cap'n!" Bob gave a left-handed salute.

   "Ready, Abi?"

   "Nearly, Martin.  I just think I'd better pay a visit before we start
shooting.  In case it becomes urgent later on." She got up, an anxious
expression on her face.

   "Couldn't you have gone to the toilet before you came here, Abi?"
Pubella said, severely.

   "I did, Pubes.  Twice.  I think there must be something wrong with my
insides."



   **********

   Martin and Bob joined us later in Smegs's room for toasted crumpets.

   "I wouldn't have believed it possible.  I mean, I saw them grow
yesterday, but the size of those things today!"

   "Nothing, Mar!" Smegs bit into a crumpet and butter squished out across
her cheek.  I licked it off for her and she thanked me with an enthusiastic
kiss.  "She was in here last night, growing before my eyes.  It's a
wonderful experience watching Mother Nature at work like that."

   "Nature?" Bob's eyes boggled.  "You call that natural?"

   "Did you get much work done?"

   "Could have been more, Shan," admitted Martin, "but Abi's bowels cost us
an hour or more.  We've shot all the first half now.  Tomorrow, there's a
whole sequence of shots involving a crowd of other girls, pretending to be
in the dorm getting ready for bed."

   "Why shoot it there?"

   "Just an excuse for gratuitous nudity," grinned Bob.  I liked Bob.  I
felt it was necessary to do something to show him how much I liked him.  He
went pale as I unzipped his pants and stuck my face inside.

   Smegs giggled.  "Don't mind my bestest friend.  She's a bit forward
sometimes."

   "Oh, I see."

   "One thing, Mar, when you shoot the girls getting ready for bed, don't
forget their panties."

   "What about them?" Martin's voice sounded faint, even allowing for my
position inside Bob's pants.

   "They take them off and put them in a special bin just inside the
dormitory door.  They are collected and taken to be sorted and packed. 
It's an important part of the routine here.  Since it isn't really bedtime,
some of them might try to get away with not taking their panties off. 
They're dirty, lazy little sods, some of them.  So just make sure they do,
okay?"

   I emerged briefly.  "Does it really matter, Smegs?  Will it advance the
plot at all, showing them putting their knickers in the bin?"

   "That's not the point.  It's the principle of the thing.  It's like Abi
being in the loo and not shitting.  Attention to detail!  Anyway, you get
back in there and finish the job you started!"

   "I think I did.  Did I finish, Bob?"

   "Yes!" he croaked, faintly.  "Thanks, Shan!"

   "My pleasure.  Sorry I didn't swallow, darling, but I've had so many
crumpets, I couldn't manage another mouthful."

   "Oh, no problem.  It will dry out in time."

   "Here, let me!" Smegs grabbed a pair of panties from a pile and leapt
in, wiping up the deposits.  Type 'E' stains are very rare at St Cat's,"
she explained.  "Not much demand, of course, but we like to be able to
cater to the needs of our more specialised customers."

   "So, you two will be joining us in the Seconds' Dorm in the morning? 
We'll need a few figures of authority around to control that crowd of horny
bitches."

   "Martin!  Those are St Cat's girls you're being so disparaging about."

   "Exactly."

   I consulted the timetable.  "We've both got double-headers tomorrow. 
I'm taking Third Form Wanking Revision and Fifths' Seductive Talking. 
Smegs has got the Fourths for Games and the Upper Sixths for Advanced
Positions in Congress."

   "Games?  At St Cat's?"

   "Strip Monopoly tactics," said Smegs.  "But talking about
double-headers, Martin, sweetheart.  Bring your loins over here.  You, too,
my special love.  Bob can join us in his own time!"

   She called me her special love!  O, Megan!



   **********

   "All ready, Pan?"

   "Yeah!"

   "Did you test it out?"

   "Course, Suze!  Trust me.  Here, take a sniff."

   "No smell at all.  No trace of strawberries, anyway.  Who did you test
it on?"

   "Shona, of course.  She was asleep, and I gave her a five second burst."

   "Did it work?"

   "She complained when she got up that her right boob nearly overturned
her barrow, so they're probably a few pounds heavier.  It's impossible to
tell just by looking at the things."

   "Good!  Let's go, then."

   Suzanne slipped a bottle into her bag, and Pansy did the same, then the
two dreadful little girls set off for the Second Form dormitory.

   **********

   "All the curtains drawn, girls, thank you," sang Gudrun, and the
curtains were drawn tight to keep out the daylight.  Only the bedside
lights remained lit.  Jeremy was going round, replacing the bulbs in each
one with an extra powerful lamp.

   "All done," he reported.

   "Positions, everyone!" Pubella had found a megaphone from somewhere. 
Girls in nighties milled around.  There were fleecy nighties, lacy ones,
long ones and frankly embarrassing ones.  Smegs plonked the pantie bin down
in a marked manner by the door, and pointed to it with a long finger.  She
has long fingers, I am really glad to say.

   "All ready, then?  Abi, you happy with your lines?"

   Abi was mumbling something over and over to herself.  She nodded at
Pubella as if frightened of forgetting everything if she spoke.

   "Ready, Martin, Bob?"

   "We're running!"

   Like a highly-drilled squad, a well-oiled machine, the girls began
playing their parts.  With our classes earlier, Smegs and I had missed the
rehearsals, so we were most impressed at the sense of purpose with which
the girls climbed into bed and called goodnight to each other.  It was as
impressive as 'The Waltons'.  Then the lights went out one by one, ending
with Abi's.

   "Cut!"

   The lights came on again.

   "That was nice, girls!  Abi, you looked at the camera at the end,
darling.  And we need to tighten up the timing as the lights go off.  More
of a ripple really, if you can.  Let's try again."

   Suzanne and Pansy were sitting watching by the doorway, innocently
enough.  They had a free study period, I supposed, and they were doing no
harm.

   "Here we go, then.  This is a take.  This time, if it looks all right,
leave the lights out for half a minute, and we'll shoot the voices in the
darkness bit.  Okay?  Let's go!"

   The girls milled around again.

   The crew reported they were running.

   Pubella called "Action!"

   Even more well-oiled, the girls did us proud.  They climbed into their
beds, with a certain amount of token bottom-flashing.  I noted with
considerable interest those girls with pubic hair and those without.  Such
information can be valuable.  The lights went out, with almost a ripple,
and in the darkness, goodnights and best wishes rang out.

   I thought perhaps they were building up their parts a bit.  There was an
occasional "God Bless, Tess!" and even a "Take Care, Claire!" Nothing to do
with me, though.  Not my film.

   "Cut, thank you!" the lights came on.  And we all blinked.  There were
congratulations all round.  "Nice one, girls!"

   I was trying to puzzle out why Suzanne and Pansy were now sitting,
perfectly innocently, at the *far* end of the dormitory.  Look at them. 
Butter wouldn't melt in those sweet rosebud mouths.

   "What's next, Pubes?"

   "We're shooting these in reverse order, remember?  The next scene is the
one where the girls undress, mill around, drop their knickers in the bin
and put their nighties on, right?"

   Bob came over and whispered to me.  "Hi, Shan, lovey.  We're doing this
one last because it's so complicated.  They'll be tripping over each other
on their way to drop their knickers in the bin.  And we don't really want
to see too many hairy bushes, if they've got them."

   "I can tell you which ones have," I offered, eagerly.

   Bob looked at me in an odd way.  "Yes, knowing you, Shan, I bet you
could, too!"

   The girls were almost dressed, buttoning their blouses, pulling up their
skirts.  Still struggling into their bras, some of the slower ones.  Grunts
and little straining noises filled the air.

   "Nearly ready, girls?  Okay, complicated scene, this.  Don't worry if it
doesn't work out first time.  This first one's a rehearsal, but we'll shoot
it, right Mar?"

   Martin nodded.  Pubella was getting the hang of it.

   "Don't forget your panties in Miss Mountains' bin, girls.  You all got
plenty of spare pairs?"

   A dozen voices shouted, "NO!"

   Smegs groaned in dismay.  "You useless lot," she yelled.  "It's
Thursday, how can you have run out already?  You'll just have to collect
your panties from the bin after each take.  Try to remember which are
yours."

   "Oh, yucky, Miss!"

   "Oh, no, I'm not wearing HERS!"

   "Poo, Miss!  What happens if one of gets Abi's, Miss?"

   "OH, NO!"

   The prospect of any one of them getting Abi's used knickers was
obviously distasteful to the girls.  I must confess, it wouldn't have
thrilled me greatly, either.  Smegs had no problem with the idea.  It
probably quite excited her.

   "Stop being a load of babies and do as you're told!"

   They grumbled, but assumed their places, ready to start undressing
again.

   "Here we go, then, girls!  Let's make this the big one!"









   Chapter 18:- The Really Big One



   "Now this really IS the big scene," shouted Pubella through her
megaphone.  "I'm sure we learned a lot from that rehearsal ..."

   Which was true.  Bob's prediction had been uncannily correct.  A grand
pile-up had occurred with girls coming and going between the centre of the
dorm and the pantie-bin.  It had ended in a disgraceful heap of semi-naked
girls of all sizes, kicking and struggling in the middle of the floor. 
Blows were struck before authority waded in and separated them.

   "It was her fault, Miss!  Fat cow!"

   "It wasn't me, Miss.  And she punched me in the eye!"

   "She started it.  She grabbed my tits."

   "I didn't know they were hers."

   "Whose tits *were* you grabbing at, then you horny bitch?"

   "Look at this blood all over my fuckin' nightie!  Anyone would think I'd
just come on!"

   Smegs and I held the assailants apart, all four of them.  It took Martin
and Bob to help us.  With Suzanne's and Pansy's help, we swabbed away the
blood, dried the tears and cuddled the injured until they were better.

   The girl with the blood on her nightie *had* just 'come on', as it
happened, which was a source of some relief to her, as she unwittingly
revealed during the course of our investigations.  She was allowed to
continue with her part in the film on the strict understanding that she
avoided showing the camera her little piece of string when she undressed.

   Meanwhile, the actresses were dressing again.  The grunts and squeaks
were renewed.

   "This bra's shrunk," snorted one girl in disgust.

   "So's MY fucker!"

   "Really, girls, your language!  There are teachers present, as well as
men!"

   "Sorry, Miss.  But look!"

   I looked.  The girl was a plump little thing, and her bra was decidedly
tight across her boobs.  "Did it fit before, Gloriana?"

   "Yes, Miss!"

   "What about yours, Felicity?  Gosh, I see!"

   Felicity's didn't fit, either.  Nor did Katherine's.  She had been on
the choir trip, and remembered it clearly.  "Are we all growing, Miss?" She
cupped her swelling globes and viewed herself in profile in her wardrobe
mirror.  The effect seemed to please her.  "Like the Fourth Form in the
choir?"

   "We ARE, Miss!" Another girl screamed.  It was Salacia, another choir
member, whose bra cups were now clearly a couple of sizes too small for
her. A good handful of breast bulged over the top of each cup.  Having
checked that this was so, I let go hastily in case the others all wanted me
to have a quick feel of theirs as well.

   Too late!  "Feel MINE, Miss!" Requests came from all around the
dormitory.  All the girls had started to overflow their bras.  One or two
who had already buttoned their blouses were swiftly loosening them before
something gave way.  Uproar had broken out.  Martin and Bob looked close to
panic.

   Something strange was happening.  Cupping their breasts, the girls were
whimpering and tearing at their burstingly full brassieres, helping each
other out of the restricting garments, and emitting low moans.  They edged
closer to Smegs and me, and to Martin and Bob.  Big, erect nipples were
being rubbed against us by a bunch of girls clearly under the influence of
Uncontrollable Horniness.

   The only one not affected seemed to be Abi, who sat on her bed looking
around her in dismay.  She was still the biggest by a comfortable margin,
but the differential was being whittled away by the second.  Suddenly she
was overtaken by a call of nature, and made a hasty excuse and left.

   I looked around for Suzanne and Pansy.  Unaccountably, they had
disappeared.  How very strange.

   It was a yell of mingled panic and lust that brought my attention back
to the happenings closer to hand.  The panic came from Bob and Martin, the
lust was kindly provided by a dozen supremely randy twelve-year-olds, who
bore the camera crew to the floor by sheer weight of numbers and
fast-growing breast tissue.  They poor lads couldn't get up, although I had
a suspicion they weren't trying as hard as they might.

   Pubella and Gudrun were at my side.

   "What can we do, Miss?"

   "God knows, Pubella.  There'll be no stopping them.  This is
Uncontrollable Horniness, and it's not called Uncontrollable Horniness for
nothing.  It's totally uncontrollable!"

   "But these are Juniors, Miss!" Gudrun sounded indignant: a girl cheated
of her basic human rights.

   "You're welcome to join in, Gudrun, but you won't stand a chance against
these kids.  They will not be denied." I was right.  Even as I spoke, two
girls were lowering their fevered loins on to Martin's face.  Three more
were dealing with Bob.  I noted with some relief that none of these girls
was the anonymous menstruating girl, who was doing some amazing things with
her tits to Martin's face.  I had to look away.

   Smegs looked pale.  "Can't we stop them, Shan?"

   "What do you suggest.  A bucket of water?  I think we'll just have to
leave them to it.  Fortunately, ignorance is bliss.  Most of them don't
have a clue how to do it, anyway."

   We studied the writhing heap dismally.  They may not have had a clue,
but half a dozen of the girls were clearly on the verge of a staggering
discovery.  Fingers were ablur across dripping pussies, and it was only a
matter of time before *somebody* tried to see if there was anything around
that might fit nicely in one of these convenient holes.

   "What in the wide, wide world ...?"

   Moggie!

   Such is the power of Authority.  The pile of lust-crazed Juniors
miraculously unravelled itself.  The girls all stood up.  "Good morning,
Miss Thunderbolt," they chanted dutifully.  They stood in a mournful
cluster, their now spectacular breasts thrusting out of their inadequate
bras in a most disturbing manner.  It was even more disturbing when you
looked at them and realised that not one of the girls was wearing anything
but a bra.  The rest of their clothing lay in an abandoned clutter.  Smegs
was sifting hopelessly through it in search of recyclable knickers.

   Martin and Bob sat up unsteadily, putting themselves away.

   "I am deeply, deeply shocked," said Moggie, sounding deeply, deeply
shocked.  "Miss Mountains, Miss Gruntworthy, come with me, please!  Pubella
and Gudrun, kindly resume work at once." She cast an eye over the camera
crew, shook her head and said nothing.  Martin and Bob looked desperately
ashamed.



   **********

   "What brought that on?" Moggie demanded, as we strode down the corridor
at high speed.

   "Uncontrollable Horniness," I explained.  "Their breasts all grew, as
well.  Somebody must have sprayed them all."

   "All except young Abi.  She came to see me in my office and said
something had happened to the girls in the film.  Something terrible. 
Couldn't you STOP them, either of you?"

   "Stop them, Miss?" Smegs's voice was all squeaky.  "It's the
Uncontrollable Horniness, you can't stop it!"

   "Have we lost any virginities?"

   "It's a bit late for *us*, Miss!"

   "You know what I mean, Shan," said Moggie dangerously.

   "I don't think so," murmured Smegs.  "Although we were getting pretty
close in a few cases.  Luckily, most of them were foolish virgins anyway,
as it happened."

   "It's going to cost us the earth in double beds and wheelbarrows if this
sort of thing goes on.  Come into the office."

   We followed her inside and she shut the door.

   "I am very disappointed, Megan.  And Chauntaille, you have let me down."
Then she just sat in silence and looked at us as we bawled our eyes out. 
Ten minutes went by, the only sound being our howling and sobbing.  Moggie
took a box of tissues out of her drawer.  "Oh, for fuck's sake, shut up!"
she yelled.

   We stopped crying instantly.  It was getting a bit difficult to keep
going, to tell the truth.  I took a handful of tissues and handed some to
Smegs.

   "Are you going to give us a good spanking, Miss?" It was worth a try, at
least.

   "Not this time, Chauntaille.  I think you are both truly sorry.  Come
here!" Her voice had softened, and we both looked up at her in
astonishment. She was holding her arms out to us.  Moggie picked up the
phone and spoke briskly to Miss Labia.

   "No more calls this afternoon, Labia, please!" She planted the handset
in its cradle and began to loosen my shirt buttons.



   **********

   I got my spanking, although it took over an hour of persuasion.  Smegs
took over from Moggie when her wrist became tired, although she found
somewhere soothing for her wrist while Smegs finished me off.

   Later, I stood and watched while Moggie and Smegs snogged in a jaded
way, curled up in Moggie's armchair.  "Please come and join us," they
pleaded, but sitting down was not high on my agenda for the foreseeable
future.  But I hobbled over and licked everything that looked vaguely
edible.  They looked suitably gratified.



   **********

   "I am deeply disappointed, Suzanne.  Pansy, you have let me down!"

   The girls wailed miserably.  Where is this leading, Chauntaille, I asked
myself.  "Oh shut up, for crying out loud," I told them, in language
suitable for the ears of First Formers.  "Here, use my hankie."

   "These aren't a hankie, Miss," Suzanne informed me, holding up a flimsy
undergarment.  She sniffed at the area of the crotch.  "Miss Mountains', at
a guess!"

   I took them from her and raised them to my nostrils.  Tears sprang to my
eyes.  They were Smegs's, all right.  "Use them anyway," I said, "they're
perfectly clean."

   The girls politely declined, and wiped their eyes on their sleeves.

   "Now, then.  Are you going to tell me the truth about this business? 
Why did the Second Form grow?  And why did it suffer from Uncontrollable
Horniness?"

   "It must have been Miss Thunderbolt's cheap chemicals," insisted
Suzanne, still sobbing occasionally, which had a curiously disturbing
effect on the contents of her blouse.  The decidedly ample contents.  "It
was supposed to be a little bit of a boost, that's all.  The girls asked us
themselves."

   "They were jealous of Abi, Miss," continued Pansy, also doing the
heaving bosom trick in a slightly smaller way.  Suzanne watched her for a
while with interest, then joined in with a great shuddering sob that nearly
had her breasts exploding all over the room.

   "They only wanted an inch or so.  More of a statement of intent, they
called it.  Just to show what they could do.  It got out of control a bit,
didn't it, Miss!"

   "You could say that, Suzanne.  Button yourself up, there's a love.  I
think that bra's about on its limits, isn't it?"

   "Yes, Miss.  So's Pansy's, Miss!"

   "We were trying not to get bigger bras, Miss, in case it upset Toria."

   "Better Toria should be upset than you squash your titties into a
too-small bra, Pansy.  See the fitters tomorrow, both of you!"

   "Oooh, yes, Miss," they chanted happily in unison.

   Somehow, I thought, the interview hadn't gone entirely to plan.



   **********

   "It all went according to plan, Miss," I reported to Moggie.  "They'll
never do it again."

   "Good girls.  It's only youthful high spirits.  And what's the damage,
no lives lost, no virginities, just a dozen girls with six inches or so
added on to their bust measurements.  They'll be grateful, once they've got
their new ScatBras on, and especially when they discover how sensitive
their tits are!  I remember how we all were when ours first grew!"

   Smegs grinned in recollection.  "How I was always the biggest."

   "Apart from me," insisted Moggie.

   "Apart from you.  But you had the milk, didn't you?"

   "And little Shan!" Moggie hugged me to her and my loins melted for
possibly only the fourth time since Smegs had awakened me by nibbling my
clitoris at four in the morning.  "Remember how little Shan used to be so
tiny.  Little B cups?"

   "Now look at her.  We've come a long way together, Moggie!"

   "We certainly have, Megan.  Now, even our Juniors can whip up a mixture
that can turn an entire class of twelve year olds into exotic dancers ..."

   "...  and Uncontrollably Horny sluts ..."

   "...  and set fire to spoons!"

   They stared at me.  I didn't know *why* I'd said that.

   "Are we all ready for the interviews, then?  First one's at ten.  Mr
Windlesham.  Are you going to change into something more suitable?"

   I'd thought my black and white looked rather smart.

   "You look like a tarty waitress, Shan.  And Megan, a bit of cleavage is
fine, but when you start showing the undersides of your breasts, you have
overstepped the bounds of decency.  Blouses, please, both of you.  Skirts
down to mid thigh, as well.  Especially yours, Megan.  You have been
showing a tendency to reveal your knickers in public.  Let us show a little
respect for Mr Windlesham.  He is, after all, a gentleman.  As for your
cleavage, Shan, no more than two feet.  I shall measure it with this stick
on your return.  As a gesture of goodwill, I shall warm the stick first."
She placed it on the radiator.

   I would rather she had given me a good spanking with it, but Mr
Windlesham had to be put at his ease for his interview, and to have a young
woman member of the interviewing panel hobbling about holding her burning
bottom was not calculated to make him feel comfortable.

   "C'mon, Smegs, let's go and change." I almost dragged her out of the
door.

   "And don't forget to shower before you get dressed, we don't want Mr
Windlesham thinking he's being interviewed in a fish market!"

   "Oh, MISS!"

   She's such a rotten spoilsport, is Moggie.









   Part VII









   Chapter 19:- Windlesham And Meadowlark



   We were all strangely nervous for some reason.  No real reason for it;
after all, we were the ones doing the interviewing, not applying for the
job.  Moggie had placed three chairs behind her leather topped desk,
herself in the middle, I sat on her right, Smegs on her left.  For some
ridiculous reason, I wanted to be next to Smegs, with our thighs touching
instead of mine and Moggie's.  I tried to comfort myself by remembering
that Smegs's thigh was touching Moggie's other one, and pushed harder
against her.

   "What's the matter with you two girls," she said, "I can't move with you
two squashing my thighs together."

   "Oooh, look, Miss, there's that patch on your desk from where I leaked
the other day!"

   Smegs looked disgusted and sniffed loudly.  Oh, no, Smeggsy, don't get
all stroppy with me, please.  I never had a chance to find out whether my
bestest friend was stroppy with me or not.  Miss Labia knocked and came in.
She seemed excited, was that the word?  Disturbed, perhaps?

   "Mr Windlesham's here, Miss Thunderbolt.  But he's not ..."

   "Show him in, then, Labia."

   "He's not, Miss Thunderbolt, it's ...  Somebody Else ...!"

   "What's the matter, Labia, show him in!"

   "All right, but don't say I didn't warn you ..." She rolled her eyes and
left the room.  The door opened and she came back in.  "Mr
W-W-W-W-Windlesham."

   I was looking down at my note-pad, when I heard Moggie say under her
breath, "Oh, my God!" She was trying to stand up, for Chrissakes.  I looked
up at the Windlesham man.

   "Oh, my God!" I said, and started struggling to my feet.  Out of the
corner of my eye, I saw Smegs getting up as well.

   "No, please do sit down, ladies," drawled a deep and strangely familiar
voice.  Mr Windlesham was a tallish man with a big, familiar St Bernard dog
face, and big familiar ears.  He was wearing a conservative, safe, utterly
predictable double-breasted suit, in a pattern called a Prince of Wales
check, for some reason.  His eyes scanned along the row of us, as we
struggled to sit down again.  My breasts had become entangled with
Moggie's, one on top of the desktop, the other underneath.  We stood up
again, and Moggie became caught up with Smegs, who had half sat down.

   I took advantage of the confusion to unhook my left breast from the
desktop and hold it up with both hands out of Moggie's way.  As soon as
Moggie and Smegs crashed down in their seats, I dropped it in Moggie's lap,
all fifty pounds of it.

   "Ooof!" she grunted.  "Ah, good morning, Your High ...  erm ...  Sir, Mr
W-W-Windlesham, sir!"

   "Most extraordinary," he said.  Actually, what he said was "Maist
egg-strwoard-nary!"

   "Did you have a pleasant journey, Mr Sir?" Moggie, get a grip, please.

   "Maist pleasant.  We flew in to Upton Silage.  One took the controils
for part of the flight."

   "Gosh!"

   I drifted away.  Somewhere, in a mist, I could hear Moggie's lame
questions, the cultured answers.  I gazed at Mr Windlesham's ears.  They
were really as big in real life as in his photographs.  I found myself
wondering about the other parts reputed to be well above average in size,
as well.

   "...  One has a little place in the West Country.  Cornwall, it's called
..."

   I floated off again.  Vaguely, I heard of one's ex-wife, one's two boys,
one's hice, one's love of sport and the open air, one's brief career in the
Navy.  He couldn't come here.  Not to St Cat's!  "...  Chauntaille?" Moggie
had just asked me a question.

   "Whaaa ..." I turned it into a cough, and the cough started me choking.
I came to, with Moggie thumping me on the back.  My eyes were streaming,
and my tits were banging and flopping on the desk like great goatskin bags
of half-melted butter.  "Stop it," I gasped.  "I'm fuckin' choking!"

   "I say, are you all right, Miz Gruntworthy?  How appallingly dreadful."

   "Yes, thank you," I croaked.  I struggled to remember my question.  "You
list among your interests Youth Affairs, have you ..." my mind had gone
blank.  "Erm.  How many youthful affairs have you had?" I concluded,
uncertainly.  That wasn't right, Chauntaille, I told myself with some
conviction.  Conviction for High Treason, at the very least.

   Mr Windlesham was laughing uncertainly.  "Jolly good," he chuckled.  I
could hear Moggie gibbering on my left, and recognised Smegs's groan.

   "I mean, if you came to St Cat's, how would you feel, in your lack of
actual teaching experience, which is not, of course, a disabling disability
by any manner of means, about actually becoming a girl's tampon?"

   "Aaaargh!" That was Moggie again.

   "Ooooh, no!" And that was Smegs.

   "I mean, a teacher of girls," I said, perhaps a little late.

   "One would adapt, one feels certain.  As a tampon, one could conform to
any ...  as a teacher, that is, one would see one's role as ...  would you
mind repeating the question, please?"

   "I think we can take that one as read," Moggie interrupted.  "Megan?"

   "How about sex?" asked Smegs, rather abruptly, I thought.

   "Sex?"

   "Our girls are all female," gabbled Smegs, blushing furiously and not at
all prettily.  "What would your attitude be to them becoming wheelbarrows?
I mean ...  you know?" she ended helpfully.

   "Megan means, if their ...  if they get so ...  their brea ...  their
tit.  Oh shit!"

   "You do all have thee maist extraordinarily large breasts, ladies."

   "Ummm.  We do?"

   "Yairs, indeed."

   We all fell silent.  Somebody had to say something.  Incredulously, I
heard myself saying it, and nothing I could do would stop the words pouring
out of my lips.

   "Is your cock really as huge as they say it is?"



   **********

   "Is this the Tower of London?"

   "Sorry?  Shan, you've come round.  We were worried.  Smegs has been
giving you the kiss of life.  She wouldn't let me do it.  We had quite a
fight over you.  You might have died."

   "Shit, and I missed it, I must have been unconscious.  Do it again,
Smegs, please!"

   "Not now, Shan!  Later, perhaps."

   "What happened?  Did he get the job?"

   "He's gone, Shan, darling." Moggie bent over me, and Smegs grabbed her
arm and dragged her away jealously.

   "Did he get the job?"

   "I don't think so, my sweetness.  You may have frightened him off."

   "Isn't that treason, Miss?  I'll go to jail!  I'll be hanged!"

   "Darling!" they both held me down, stroking me in various erogenous
places.  That felt good.  At least, before I was taken to the place of
execution, I could have Moggie and Smegs bring me last comfort.  "He wasn't
who you thought.  We thought.  It wasn't him, you know.  He was an
impostor."

   "Well, he wasn't actually an impostor," Smegs pointed out, "he always
said his name was Windlesham, didn't he?"

   "Well, he looked like him, and he certainly sounded like him.  And
everything else was right, too.  Were those *really* his boys' names?  And
*Eton*?"

   "Yes, all correct," confirmed Moggie.  "But pure coincidence, all of it.
Small world, you know!"

   "Well, wow!  Where does that leave us?  The woman this afternoon.  Miss
Meadowlark?  Corinne Meadowlark.  What sort of a name is Meadowlark,
anyway?"

   "It's Miss Meadowlark's name, Shan.  She's certainly hot favourite now.
And with those tits, I could fancy her myself!"

   "Moggie!" Smegs placed her hands on her hips and looked disapprovingly
at her.  She was so commanding!

   "I love you, Smegs!" I yelled at her, and they both stared at me and
shrugged at each other.  Moggie picked up the picture from her desk and
studied it closely.  It was the sort of picture most suited to close study.
I wished it was bigger; about four feet square.

   "How big do you think those things are, Megan?"

   "Bigger than mine.  Is that what you wanted to hear?"

   "No, of course not.  Although they certainly are.  They are fucking
enormous!  Seventy inches?"

   "What's enormous about seventy inches?" I wanted to know.  "You're
bigger than that, and I'm ten bloody feet.  Even Smegs is nearly seventy
inches.  Good grief, young Suzanne must be nearly that big now!"

   "This is news to me," said Moggie.  "Why wasn't I kept informed?"

   "Sorry, Miss," I informed her meekly.  "Suzanne's been growing again."

   "Thank you, Chauntaille."

   "What time is she due?"

   "Two thirty."

   "Time for a leisurely lunch, then," suggested Moggie.  "It's not quite
twelve.  Let's go down the pub in the village!"

   "The pub?  For lunch?"

   "The Goat and Compasses?"

   "The same."

   I looked at Smegs and she looked at me.  Why not?  It would make a
change from spending two hours fucking.  I looked down past my yawning
cleavage at my fairly austere navy skirt.  My thighs were creamy, but
distinctly heavy-looking above the tops of my black stockings.  "Are we
going out dressed like this?"

   "Why not?  You won't get arrested for flashing two feet of cleavage and
some stocking-tops.  Come on, we're wasting valuable drinking time."



   **********

   We rolled back into Moggie's office at twenty-five past two.

   "Shit!  Jus' in time," yelled Moggie, flopping down into her chair.  I
tried to sit next to her but ended up in her lap.  "Ooooh, Chauntaille!"
she gargled at me, and gave me a hearty gin-flavoured snog.  "Where's
Smegan?  She's gone.  Did we leave her at the Goat n' Pencil Case?"

   "Gone for a piss.  I told her to have one for me while she was there." I
felt glad to be reasonably sober.  It would be a sign of respect to our job
applicant for one of the interviewers to be reasonably sober.  "I got
hiccups," I told Moggie gravely.

   "Good!"

   Miss Labia appeared.  "Miss Meadowlark's here, Miss Thunderbolt.  Did
you want to see her?"

   "Course we want to fucking see her," Moggie roared, shaking the windows,
and Miss Labia cringed.  Smegs pushed past her rudely in the doorway.

   "Look out, yer slag!" cried my bestest friend.  "Hey, I was too late.  I
pissed meself outside the bogs.  Puddle on the floor.  Look!" She held up
her panties triumphantly.  "Type 'B'!" then she flopped her soggy underwear
down on top of the desk, sat down and fell asleep with her head on her
arms.

   "Black coffee?" Miss Labia suggested.

   "What for?  For Meadowlark?  Is she drunk, or what?  Hey, Shan!" She
nudged me heavily.  "Meadowlark's pissed.  She's drunk on parade. 
Interview.  Drunk!"

   "Yes please, Labia," I said urgently.  "Four cups, three of them strong
and hot and black.  Quick as you can." I emphasised the urgency of the
request by thumping my fist on the desk, creating a hailstorm of paperclips
which pelted down around our heads.  Moggie ducked.  Smegs was mercifully
unconscious.

   "Raining in here?" Moggie fumbled beneath the desk and emerged with an
umbrella.  One of those huge multi-coloured golf ones.

   "Quick as you can, Labia."

   Miss Labia disappeared, and I faintly heard her asking Miss Meadowlark
if she would like a cup of coffee as the board was just finishing the
previous interview.  "Well done, Labia," I said to myself, and hiccupped
again.

   "BOO!" shouted Moggie.  "Shock.  Good cure for hiccups, Shan.  Have a
shock.  Boo!" It didn't frighten me unduly.  I hiccupped again.  "Rain's
getting worse," she said.  "The rain in ...  Spain ...  stays mainly in ...
the plain."

   "Oh, no!"

   "I think she's got it," roared Moggie.  "By George, she's got it!"

   "Oh, my God!"

   "She's got it!  She's really got it!" Moggie flung herself to her feet,
twirling her umbrella so the coloured panels swam before my eyes as she
danced a gallumphing tango round the room, her breasts leading the way. 
"The RAIN in SPAIN stays MAIN-ly in the PLAIN!  FUCK!" She collided with
the hat-stand and brought it crashing to the floor in a spectacular finale.
"In Hertford, Hereford and Hampshire," she observed quietly, "Hurricanes
hardly happen!"

   Miss Labia hurried in with a tray and three mugs which she placed on the
desk.  I was trying to pick up Moggie, but she seemed to have become
enmeshed with the furniture.  Somehow, one of the elaborately bent wood
hooks had entered her cleavage and was acting as an underwire for her left
breast.

   "How did she get caught up like this?" said a strange voice.

   "Twelve G and T's, I suppose," I told the owner of the voice, then
looked up from the floor at the girl who was trying to help me.  An
astonishingly lovely little blonde-haired girl, with the most amazingly
REAL big breasts I'd ever seen in my life.  My performing spleen did its
usual cartwheels as I fell instantly, deeply in love.  "Thank you, spleen,
that will be all," I said.

   "Sorry?  Did you say something?"

   "No, nothing.  Just holding a conversation with my spleen."

   "I do that sometimes, too.  Bloody thing turns cartwheels!  Here.  Look,
I'll hold her, you pull the hatstand out of the top of her frock.  I can't
imagine how she got it in there, there isn't a great deal of room to
spare." Moggie had thankfully lapsed into blissful unconsciousness on the
rug.  "Who is she, anyway?"

   "Miss Thunderbolt, the headmistress.  She was dancing the tango with a
golf umbrella.  Ah, here it comes ...  THERE!" I leaned the useless remains
of the hatstand in the corner and offered the girl my hand.  "That sleeping
beauty over there is Megan Mountains, my bestest friend.  And I'm
Chauntaille Gruntworthy.  Shan to my friends."

   "Hi, Shan.  I'm Corinne Meadowlark.  If you let me have this job, I
think I might quite enjoy it here!"









   Chapter 20:- The Job's Yours



   Unmusical snores echoed round the room as we sipped our mugs of coffee.
I was still having trouble with the old spleen as I studied Corinne, trying
not to make it too obvious.  I took a peek at her CV: only twenty-one? 
With what looked like masses of blonde hair tied up in a severe-looking
bun, she could have been my mother.  Yet at the same time, she was so tiny
and vulnerable.  Part of her was, anyway.  God, she was fantastic!  Even in
her heels she was still shorter than me.  If she took them off ...

   The thought was too much for me and I took another sip of coffee,
spilling most of it down my front.  I put down the mug and dabbed at the
stain with my hankie.  Corinne looked concerned.

   "Are you all right?  It's hot, isn't it!"

   "It's all right.  It will wash out, thanks." I noticed Corinne had a
handkerchief of her own in her hand, as if she had been on the verge of
coming over and wiping up the mess herself.  Was that a touch of regret on
her face when she slipped the hankie back in the top pocket of her blazer.
Despite her phenomenally huge breasts, she looked so much more ...  what's
the word ...  tidy than I ever can.  I know, I'm bigger, but Corinne looked
immaculate.  The immaculate conception, I thought, for some reason.  That
blazer was obviously made to measure, so was that skirt.  Such a modest
length, too.  Even with her knees crossed.  I needed to see Corinne's
knees, as a matter of some urgency.  And that white blouse.  Silk, wasn't
it?  Hidden beneath her blazer, what an utter waste!

   I felt ridiculously coarse and sluttish in my mid-thigh length skirt,
and I uncrossed my legs and tried to pull it down.  Hopeless!  Corinne was
smiling gently at me.

   "Do you mind if I say something?  It's a bit personal."

   "Go ahead."

   "Those two." She gave a nod down at Moggie's corpse, and at Smegs,
breathing noisily into her panties.  "And you.  Especially you.  You've got
such *enormous* breasts.  And I always thought I was big!"

   "Ooooh, but you are!  Big, that is.  Huge, even!  Yours are wonderful.
Mine are big, I know, but they're not natural."

   "Those are *implants*?  Come on, Shan!  You couldn't get implants that
size.  I mean, look at mine ...!"

   "I'm looking, I'm looking!"

   "They're real, and bigger than basketballs.  You couldn't get implants
anywhere *near* the size of these, even, and you're twice as big as me! 
What's *your* secret?"

   "It's a long story, Corinne.  Have you got an hour to spare?"

   "For this, I've got all day." She made herself comfortable, although I
imagined the word 'comfortable' was relative with those things hanging
round her neck.

   I gave her the abridged version, touched briefly on the chemical aspects
of breast enhancement and its current impact on the student body of St
Cat's and rounded off with the story of how my own breasts had ballooned
from five feet to ten in a couple of otherwise uneventful years.

   "Golly, Shan!" Corinne looked down at her own monsters and back at me.
She couldn't look me in the eye, her gaze kept sliding away downwards. 
More or less as mine was.  "Are they ...  very sensitive?" she whispered.

   "You've got to be joking," I whispered back.  "One touch of these
nipples.  And round *here*." Trying to look her squarely in the eyes, I let
my fingers do the walking, describing a shaky circle around where my areola
might be.  Show Corinne how big it is!  Not as big as Shona's saucepan
lids, but big enough for a mouthful.  Her eyes widened.  I moved on, out to
the sides of my quivering breasts.  "And especially just HERE!  Touch me
here and I'm anybody's!"

   "Anybody's?  You mean absolutely anybody's?"

   "Mmmm!"

   "Gosh!" Her little pink tongue came out and moistened her lips.

   Look here, spleen.  I won't tell you again.

   "How about yours?"

   "About my what, sorry?"

   I couldn't even say the word.  "Your ...  breasts!  Are they sensitive,
too?" I wanted to go to the lavatory, and crossed my legs again, revealing
practically the whole of my lower half.

   Corinne gave a little gulp.  Her voice shook.  "It's hard enough to get
a bra made for these things.  Expensive, too.  But if I didn't wear one,
apart from having them dangle down by my ...  you know ...?" She blushed
prettily.  Very prettily!  "Well, apart from that.  I'd be coming all day
long!" She ended with a bit of a rush, and went bright red.  "Oh, God,
listen to me.  And we hardly met five minutes ago.  This always happens to
me, you know?"

   "Does it?"

   "No, not really.  Not often."

   "Good!"

   We just sat and looked at each other.  We might have been sitting there
to this day, if Miss Labia hadn't come in.  "More coffee?" she dropped her
voice to a whisper.  "God, they're still asleep, those two?"

   "Yes please, Labia.  Just the two cups.  White for me this time.  I'm
not drunk any more.  In fact, I'm extremely lucid all of a sudden."

   "White for me, too, please, Labia," said Corinne, softly.

   "And Hob-nobs, Labia.  Any of those Hob-nobs left?"

   "Plain chocolate digestives, that's all.  Tesco's Economy.  Times is
hard, Miss."

   "So be it, Labia," I sighed.

   "That's an unusual name," Corinne said when the secretary had left the
room.

   "It's her surname," I explained, as if that made more sense somehow.

   "Oh, I see.  That explains everything."

   "I suppose," I said, uncertainly, "we'd better get on with the
interview, if those two are going to carry on snoring the afternoon away.
We ought to wake them, really.  Smegs will be like a bear with a sore head
by tonight.  But I haven't the heart, somehow."

   "What's that she's resting her head on?"

   "It seems to be her panties.  She pee-ed in them."

   "Oh, bless her!" Corinne looked at me wistfully.  "You love her a lot,
don't you?"

   "What?" My face was aflame down to my neck somewhere.  Talk about Basic
Blushing!  "Do I?  I never really thought about it," and I put a hand on my
nose to feel if it was growing.  I sat up straight, and cleared my throat.
"Interview, then?"

   "Interview!"

   "Moggie's got a job description down here somewhere.  S&M Mistress, it
says."

   "Golly, Shan.  Could be quite fun reading up all about that."

   "Ah, no.  Here it is.  Support and Mobility Mistress.  How does that
grab you?"

   "Sounds just dandy.  What does it mean?"

   "She's written a few words down.  Wheelbarrow technique ...  ScatBra
design, construction and fitting ...  custom clothing ...  mobility for the
Larger Breasted Girl..."

   "I dunno about the rest of it, but that last bit sounds just like me. 
I'll take it!"

   "You're on!  Welcome to St Cat's!" I looked at her, between the eyes,
this time.  "Are you sure?  You still want to come here after this?" I
nodded at the rest of the panel of interviewers.

   "Of course!  If you're as fond of them as you obviously are, there can't
be much wrong with them.  My only regret is that I never saw them awake. 
What about the money?"

   "Oh, they pay you, it's all right."

   "Oh, excellent.  I'm a bit strapped for cash ..."

   "How soon can you start?"

   "I need to move my stuff.  Is there accommodation here at the school?"

   "How many rooms do you need?  Two or three?"

   "Great.  How about Monday?"

   "Can't fault it, kid!  Monday it is, then.  You want a hand moving in?"

   "I haven't got much gear, just books, a laptop, a few clothes.  As you
can imagine, I'm a difficult size."

   "We can help you, there.  You know your measurements?"

   "Not exactly, no.  I'm still growing."

   "Golly!  Never mind.  We can measure you on Monday, then Clit and Flaps
will run you something up in no time.  That's not their real names.  We
don't know their real names.  But a finer pair of seamstresses and
bra-makers you will not find anywhere.  Raving lezzies, of course!"

   "Of course!"

   I blushed again, and stood up quickly.  "I'll light a fire in your room,
and get it warmed up for you." So did Corinne, she had the same difficulty
getting to her feet as I did.  I could feel the moisture practically
trickling down my thighs.

   We held out our hands to each other, but the expected handshake turned
into a little hug, somehow.

   "Well.  See you at the weekend, some time?"

   "Sure, okay."

   "Bye, then."

   "Bye, Shan.  And thanks for everything."

   "No, it was my pleasure."

   "You're just saying that."

   "No, I mean it, honestly.  Have a Tesco Economy Plain Chocolate
Digestive for the journey."

   "Thanks.  Well.  Probably Sunday, then.  In the morning."

   "I'll tell Smegs to get out of bed to help us move you in.  I suppose
she'll be awake by then."

   We tiptoed to the door, and closed it quietly behind us, then I watched
Corinne as she teetered slowly and carefully away down the corridor to the
main entrance.  She held her arms steady by her sides, with her fingers
extended sideways for balance.  She could have been crossing the Niagara
Falls on a tightrope.

   Even with her arms at her sides, the bulge of her breasts was visible
beyond her arms.  And her hips were so tiny!  How could she even stand up,
let alone walk?

   I wondered about her bust size.  Smegs would want to know, for sure.  My
breasts were certainly much bigger, but hers seemed almost as heavy as
mine, somehow.

   "Nice kid," said Labia.  "Pity we couldn't give her an interview."

   "Never mind the interview, I just gave her the job!"

   "YOU did?"

   "There was nobody else awake.  And Miss Meadowlark will do just fine."

   Miss Labia was reaching for her dictionary.  "Meadowlark," she mused,
running a finger down the columns.  "Strange name, I suppose.  Here we are.
'Meadowlark: - Pipit or TITLARK'.  Who ever heard of a bird called a
titlark?"

   "Corinne Meadowlark.  Excellent name," I said.  "Suits her nicely."



   **********

   Meanwhile, back in the office, something was stirring.  So, Moggie was
awake.  I heard a heavy body blunder into an item of furniture, and a bout
of fluent swearing.  So was Smegs.  Time to go in.

   "Didn't we have an interview this afternoon?"

   "We did, Miss, but she left."

   Smegs sat up, peeling her partly dried panties from her face.  She swore
creatively, then clutched her head between her hands.  "Strong and black
this time, Labia," I shouted.

   "Coming up!" Three steaming mugs arrived.  Moggie took one cautiously
and sipped.  If you looked closely, you could just see her head bulging
rhythmically where the man with the hammer was pounding away inside.

   "Left?  You mean she's gone?"

   "Yes.  Five minutes ago.  She got the job.  She's eminently suitable."

   "Oh, that's all right, then.  WHAT?"

   "I gave her the job.  I explained you weren't drunk all the time and she
seemed to understand."

   Smegs sat up again, pulling her mouth into strange contortions.  "Oh,
yuck!  Never again.  Never, ever again!  Never again!" She could have gone
on developing that theme for some time, but I stopped her.

   "She thought you were sweet, Smegs, sleeping like a baby with your face
on your panties.  They say ammonia's good for the complexion." She took up
her coffee like a poison draught.

   "Did you say she'd gone?  And you gave her the job without a proper
interview?"

   "No, we had an excellent interview.  We talked about our breasts quite a
lot."

   "How big are they?"

   "Smegs, you know how big they are.  I've been steady on ten feet for
nearly ..."

   "Not yours, arsehole!  Hers.  Fucking Meadow pipit."

   "Lark.  Meadowlark.  Corinne.  I don't know, you saw her photo."

   "You mean you didn't measure her?" They screeched that almost in unison,
as if they'd been rehearsing.

   "You don't measure school teachers at job interviews."

   "How else can you find out how big their tits are?"

   "What does it sodding matter how big her tits are.  They are huge! 
Miles bigger than yours.  Nearly as big as Moggie, and all natural, home
grown.  She's like Suzanne, and Lim-Bim-Xuoyung Ng, enormous!"

   "What size?" Smegs seemed to have an obsession about it.  "Sixty? 
Sixty-five?  Seventy inches?"

   "How do I know?  Seventy, seventy-five?"

   "Aaargh!"

   "It doesn't matter.  She'll be measured on Monday, when she starts work.
You'll be able to see then.  Meanwhile, she's coming over on Sunday morning
to move in.  I told her I'd light a fire and warm her room up for her."

   "Why don't you warm her bed up for her as well," snarled Smegs.  Poor
insecure Smegs, jealous as hell.

   "I might just do that.  If she asks me.  At least she won't wake up
grumpy every morning, smelling like a brewery and not speaking a civil word
to her bestest friends.  You're disgusting!"

   Smegs pushed past me and the door slammed behind her.  Moggie sat down
heavily behind her desk.  "Perhaps you should have woken us up, Shan.  I
know we were a bit tipsy, but ..."

   "You were dancing the tango with a golf umbrella.  You tried to seduce
the hat-stand.  You fell asleep on the rug.  Smegs crashed out on the desk
with her face pillowed on her wet knickers ..."

   "I wondered why the hat-stand was over in that corner.  Is it badly
broken?" She started to get up to inspect it.

   "Fuck the hat-stand!" I yelled.  "Listen to me.  You don't deserve
somebody like Corinne Meadowlark working for you.  But she still wants to
come here, despite your performance this afternoon." I spun on my heel, not
a simple manoeuvre with ten foot tits, and headed on a great circle route
for the door.  I wrenched it open, and Miss Labia came reeling past me into
the office and measured her length on the floor.  She had evidently been
listening at the keyhole.

   The girls had finished classes for the week.  Little groups of them were
making their way to their dorms and common rooms.  They looked sideways at
me with respectful glances as I passed.  Nobody said a word to me.  My
expression must have been enough to put them off.  In through the door of
Smegs's room I slammed, without thinking.

   There was a hunched shape on the bed in the darkness.  Although she was
lying over on her side of the bed, I hesitated to lie down next to her.  I
chose the armchair instead, having to pick up several items of an intimate
nature.  Why couldn't the slovenly cow pick her gear up after her, the
place was like a garbage tip.  I had been sitting there for five silent
minutes before my anger died away, to be replaced by empty desolation.  I
wanted to lie down and cry my eyes out, but the bed was occupied.

   "Megan?" I whispered it as quietly as I could, in case she heard me.

   "Smegs?" A little louder.  She stiffened as I touched her back.  "Turn
over this way.  Please."

   "Don't want to."

   The phone rang.  I picked it up without thinking.  "Miss ...  Miss
Mountains' room."

   "Shan?  It's Corinne."

   "Corinne, hi!  Did Labia put you through to this room?"

   "She said you'd be there.  Look, I changed my mind ...!"

   "You mean ...?"

   "Yes.  Could I move in tomorrow instead of Sunday?  If it's extra work
for you, forget it, but if you can, it would be lovely.  I thought it would
give me a chance to get settled in at St Cat's on the Sunday.  Last day of
freedom and everything?"

   "Course you can.  Hey, I'll go and light your fire now.  What time? 
Ten-thirty?  Great.  See you then."

   I slammed the phone down and changed into jeans and a huge sweater, then
bolted out of the room and down the corridor to the empty room next to
mine. As I closed Smegs's door behind me, I thought I heard a faint cry,
but maybe it was just one of the girls shouting outside.









   Chapter 21:- A New Girl At St Cat's



   It was the same as my room, only the other way around.  Whoever had
designed the staff living quarters had decided that the St Cat's teachers
would be so hard-working and dedicated, they would eat in the school
restaurant, mark a few exercises in the staff room and retire to their
narrow beds, exhausted.

   Hence, the layout of the rooms.  Moggie's was more or less palatial,
round the corner and down the corridor.  Smegs had graduated to the Deputy
Headmistress's room, and even with our double bed, she had room to swing an
average cat, and there was even a small kitchen with plenty of room to
unwrap a Chinese takeaway banquet for eight persons.  "It's a cat o' nine
tails," I tried to explain to her, "not a real cat.  It means there would
have been room to swing a cat o' nine tails, one of those whip things they
used to use on ships to beat naughty sailors to a bloody pulp." She didn't
take the hint.  I don't think she believed me.

   Smegs even had a little en suite shower and toilet, which was a blessing
to the other occupants of the block, given Smegs's occasional dietary
deviations, although no comfort to me when I shared her room.

   The ordinary teachers' bedrooms were rather more Spartan.  A single bed
took up most of the usable space, and there was a wardrobe, a chest of
drawers cum dressing table for my bras and stuff, and a little desk thing
where you could have a computer.  No good for me, of course, I can only
type standing up.  So, I figured, would Corinne.  She would have the same
problem, although I realised I was looking forward to watching her try and
perhaps fail in the attempt.

   The fire was crackling in the grate, there were crisp new sheets and a
fresh duvet cover on the little bed, and I went through into the domestic
area to tidy things up in there.  The designer of the staff living quarters
must have had some romance in his soul, because he had allowed each pair of
bedrooms to share an adjoining room which wasn't really big enough to call
a kitchen.  It had a sink, and hot water, a table to do your ironing, and a
microwave that scared me rigid ever since it had cremated my sweet and sour
crispy prawn balls with special fried rice one Saturday night when Smegs
had gone off somewhere on her own in search of some hot cock.

   Perhaps a toilet would have been a nice thought, as well as a kitchen,
but perhaps the designer felt that while re-heating snack meals was a
necessity for young teaching staff, shitting was a luxury, and better
conducted twenty yards away down a chilly corridor.

   Right now, the kitchen needed cleaning out, and more importantly, a
clear thoroughfare had to be established for me to get from my room to
Corinne's, and perhaps vice versa.  Better she should arrive and find it a
fait accompli, this ease of access between our rooms.  I dragged the table
and the microwave out of the way, and practised coming out of my room and
straight into hers.  I got it down to seven seconds, although I bruised my
tit badly on the edge of the table top.

   I was even tempted to do a swap.  Corinne seemed to have a much cosier
room than me.  But when I thought of moving all my clothes and junk, I
decided to let it go.  Perhaps it was the roaring fire that made it seem
such a nice room.  Mine was cold and empty.  The bed felt moist.  I went
back in and shut the kitchen door.  Sat down on the bed and thought about
Smegs.  Why did she have to be so horrible to me all the time?  I didn't
really even want to nip along the way to her familiar room with its
comfortable bed and its assorted smells, not all pleasant, but familiar all
the same.  Smegs would be there, we could make up, I could say sorry, we'd
have a cuddle and go to bed.

   She wasn't there.  Her bed was rumpled and empty.  Her interview clothes
were in a dank pile on the floor.  She'd gone out, the bitch, and never
even thought of inviting me, her bestest friend.  Bitch, bitch, bitch!



   **********

   When I woke up, it was daylight.  It hadn't been daylight when I awoke
the last time, and the three times before that.  The bed was icy and I was
the only one in it.  Smegs's clutter was still disgracing the carpet-tiled
floor.  She hadn't come back, the filthy slut.  She'd roll in about midday,
stinking of booze and cigarettes and sex and then she'd just want to lie
around all afternoon reading some smutty book, playing with herself and
farting.

   With an armful of my clothes, I trailed back into my own bleak room and
dressed, in a foul mood.  I went through the kitchen into Corinne's room,
thinking as I did that this would be the last time I'd be able to come
through this way without knocking politely.  She might even keep the door
locked!  The fire had nearly gone out, although I had banked it up last
night.  It took ten minutes work with the poker and a newspaper held in
front of the grate before it began to roar comfortingly.  Stone-age man
certainly knew what he was doing when he invented fire.  The spirits were
starting to recover when I pulled on my most enormous sweater and set off
for the restaurant for scrambled eggs on toast, and maybe a kipper or two,
even though I knew they would remind me of my bestest friend.

   "Hi, Miss!"

   "Hi, Toria, sit down." The girl straddled a chair and watched me splosh
marmalade on to a piece of toast.

   "I see.  Suzanne and Pansy have just got new bras." Ah, I thought it
wasn't just a social visit.  I poured a fresh dollop of tea into my cup and
offered the pot to Victoria.  She refused it with a shudder.

   "Don't you eat breakfast?"

   "I can't face food at this time of morning."

   "No wonder you're always complaining about your sister getting a bigger
bust than you.  You have to eat *something*, Toria."

   She refused to play.  "Scrambled eggs and marmalade don't make tits
grow," she said.  As one-liners go, it wasn't a bad one.  "We've had all
this out before, Miss.  Every time you let mine get bigger, you let those
two kids have twice as much."

   "Yours are still very lovely, you know." I gazed at them.  They jiggled,
oh, so gently beneath her T-shirt.  She wasn't wearing a bra this morning,
and her nipples were rude little points surrounded by radial creases in the
soft cotton.  Nice shirt.

   Toria snorted like a pig.  She saw me looking and crossed her arms in
front of her chest.  The movement squashed her breasts in every possible
direction except forwards, and my eyes nearly fell out on to my plate,
marmalade and all.  She was getting far too big to do that and get away
with it.  "It's no good them being lovely if they're half the size of my
sister's.  And a third the size of my cousin's!"

   "Don't exaggerate, Toria!  I've told you a mill ..."

   "I'm not exaggerating!  You haven't seen them, have you?  Pansy's huge
now.  Huge!  And Suzanne ..." she couldn't think of a word to describe
Suzanne.  I thought of a few I could have offered her, but she'd gone,
overturning her chair with a crash that caused several girls to look in my
direction as I stared after Toria's departing figure.  Magnificent in
retreat.  Full, bouncing breasts, a slender waist and in her tight jeans,
the most delightful bottom in the Third Form, with enough daylight between
the top of her legs to accept the width of my hand, palm uppermost, third
finger slightly raised.  I poured another cup of tea with trembling
fingers.



   **********

   "Have you seen Megan, Chauntaille?"

   "No, Miss, not this morning."

   Moggie raised an eyebrow slightly.  "I thought you two ..." she thought
better of it, whatever she had been going to say.  "I know it's Saturday,
but I did want to ask her something before I dash off for the weekend.  I
might be late back on Monday.  Perhaps you could explain to Miss Meadowlark
when she arrives on Monday that I have been away on business and I will see
her as soon as I return."

   "Sure.  She's arriving today to move her stuff in.  I'm giving her a
hand."

   "She's a fast worker, anyway.  Have you found her a room?"

   "Yes, Miss.  The one next to mine, with the shared kitchen.  I've made
her bed and lit the fire to air the room a bit."

   Moggie's eyebrows were almost in orbit by this time.  "Excellent.  Most
convenient, having an empty room so close to yours, you'll be able to look
after her.  Pity, really, I won't be able to see her before I go, but ..."

   Not so fast, Inspector.

   "If you've got five minutes, Miss, I think this might be her now."

   "What?  Now?"

   A taxi had pulled up outside the main entrance and the driver was
lifting two large suitcases out of the back.  Despite being dressed far
more casually than at her interview, Corinne was unmistakeable in profile
as she rummaged for some change in her purse.  It can't have been easy,
doing that at arms' length.  The taxi driver was watching her with his eyes
out on stalks as she counted the money into his shaking palm.

   "That's her?" Moggie's voice trembled.

   "That's her.  Let's go over and introduce you."

   "I can't.  Not now!  She can't see me out here."

   I peered at Moggie.  She didn't seem invisible to me.  "She'll be dying
to meet you, come on!"

   "No!" I was nearly dragging Moggie along by the hand.  Girls were
staring at us in curiosity and open amazement.  Other girls were staring at
Corinne with fascination and envy.  Moggie gasped as we got closer.  "Look
at the size of those things!" she whispered.

   I already was.  I didn't need a written invitation to look at the size
of Corinne's breasts.  She'd obviously decided it was a good day to wear
her best bra.  I felt a genuine need to shake the hand of her bra maker. 
The ScatBra is one thing, but for a conventional bra to support a pair of
tit's like Corinne's the way they were being supported right now was the
work of a true genius.

   "Are you sure she's twenty-one?" Moggie spoke out of the side of her
mouth.

   "It said so on her CV, college and everything."

   I could see what Moggie meant, though.  Corinne in her flat shoes was
tiny, and her hair wasn't in a bun any more.  Pulled back in a pony tail,
it hung down her back past her waist.  Apart from those basketballs inside
her sweater, she looked about twelve.

   She'd spotted us, and her lovely face lit up.  My spleen went into a
warm-up routine.  The sun came out, birds began clearing their throats. 
The taxi driver almost went into a song and dance number, accompanied by a
hundred prancing scantily-dressed schoolgirls and a forty-piece orchestra.
Almost.  In fact, he clambered behind the wheel and drove off, only
stalling the engine twice.

   "Moggie, this is Corinne.  Corinne Meadowlark, Miss Ella Wheeler
Thunderbolt, Headmistress of St Catherine's High School for Girls."

   "How do you do, Corinne, and welcome to St Cat's," said Moggie, stiffly.

   "My pleasure, Miss Thunderbolt.  I've heard so much about St Cat's, and
your work here.  It's been an ambition to come here, although I never even
dreamed ..."

   Steady on, young Corinne, I thought.  No need to lay it on with a bloody
shovel.  Corinne brought her speech to a close, leaving Moggie with her
mouth opening and closing like a freshly-beached kipper.

   "We hope you'll be very happy here.  I'm sure, now I've met you, you
will fit in."

   "Oh, you mean my ...  well, these?  Well, I must confess, I never
expected to find myself in such company." She looked around her at the St
Cat's girls who had crawled out of the woodwork to stare at the new
arrival. They were their usual Saturday morning sluttish selves, all
tightly-jeaned bottoms and thrusting unsupported breasts.  "Even some of
the girls seem to have caught it.  Is it something in the water round
here?"

   "You could say that, yes," agreed Moggie, uncomfortably.  She had just
caught sight of Suzanne and Pansy on the outskirts of the group of
Corinne's admirers.  Moggie and I exchanged significant glances.  Toria had
been right, I reflected with horror.  Obviously, the two cousins were still
breaking in their new ScatBras and had elected to try the maximum support
position for enhanced impact.

   Corinne noticed the direction of our gaze, and a look of panic came over
her face at the sight of the two outrageous little girls.  "Even the
younger girls!" she sounded suitably awestruck.  Suzanne and Pansy would
have been gratified if they had been close enough to hear.

   "Are your cases heavy?" I tried one, and it barely left the ground.  Her
driver must have been blessed with the strength of ten men.

   "The other two are lighter.  That one's mostly books and my computer
stuff.  Is there a janitor or something?"

   "We can take these in, then call Jeremy." I took one case, Corinne took
the other.  Moggie made her farewells and climbed into her BMW.  "Jeremy is
sort of my boyfriend," I explained as we went up the stairs.  I had to stop
halfway and change hands.

   "That's the case with my bras and clothes.  Sorry!"

   Funny how she listed her bras before her clothes.  Probably in order of
expense.

   "Your boyfriend?  Funny, I rather thought you ..." Corinne stopped,
embarrassed.

   We arrived at her room and I opened the door.  It was warm and cosy. 
The sun, which had come out when Corinne first smiled outside, was now
beaming through the window on to the flowered bed cover, flames danced in
the fireplace and a robin was perched on the window-sill peering at his
reflection in the glass.

   We dumped the cases.  "Oh, Shan, it's lovely!" She bounced on the bed
like a child, practically sitting on her hair.  Even when she stopped
bouncing, her breasts carried on for a while.  She stopped the movement
with both hands, apparently without thinking.  Then she looked around the
room again, at the appalling wallpaper and the little framed prints of
British Wild Flowers.  She giggled musically, got up and went to the window
and looked out over the quad, with its fountain still busily saving the
planet.  Her face was alight when she turned round.  "I can't believe how
lovely everything is!  Where's your room?"

   "Through that door there," I blurted.  "I mean, that's the kitchen.  We
share the same kitchen.  Well, more of a utility room, really, but there's
a microwave in there, and a kettle." I showed her around the facilities. 
It didn't take me long.  "My room is through there," I said, indicating my
door.  "It's the same as this, but the other way around."

   We wandered back into her little room and she heaved a case on to the
bed.  "I'd better call Jeremy, before someone runs off with your case." I
picked up the phone.

   "Shan!  I'm sorry, what I said just now.  About Jeremy and everything.
It's just that ...  well, after seeing the way you talked about Megan, and
looked at her ...  I just assumed you were, well, lovers!" Corinne was
blushing deeply.  Prettily, too.

   Without realising what I was doing, I took something out of her case and
stood with it in my hand.  "It's all right, honestly.  Jeremy was my first
time.  And I was his.  He lived in Fillamore Deepleigh, we both lived
there, and we, sort of ...  did it!  Not very well."

   "Where?  In the back of a car?"

   "A Jag!"

   "Gosh!" I could tell she was impressed.

   "It wasn't even his.  He worked in a garage and it was in for repair. 
But he's bought it since.  He parks it outside his shed, here at St Cat's."

   "Shan, how absolutely romantic!"

   "I suppose so."

   "So, you and Megan, you don't ...  I mean, you're not ..."

   "Oh, yes!  Well, we were.  I'm not so sure this morning.  She got a bit
upset yesterday after the interview and I screamed at her.  She went out
last night and she hasn't come back."

   "That's terrible!  Has she done that sort of thing before?"

   "All the time.  Sometimes she fancies something I can't give her, and
she goes and finds it.  She's big enough to look after herself.  In fact, I
wouldn't fancy the chances of any boy who tried anything on with Smegs, not
unless she wanted it.  I imagine last night, she wanted it."

   The sun had gone behind a cloud.  The flames were replaced by a little
gust of smoke that slipped out into the room.  The robin had flown off
somewhere.  I looked at the garment I was holding and held it it up.  It
was an enormous pink bra.

   "Sorry!  I didn't mean to ..." I handed it to her.

   "Look at the size of this bloody thing!" She toyed with the bra for a
while, stretching the elastic a couple of times.  "Pity it's too small.  I
only keep it in case I lose a few inches one day.  No chance, the way
things are going."

   "You say you're still growing?"

   She nodded, going red.  "I'll tell you all about it later.  Did your
Jeremy answer that phone?"

   "No reply, sorry." I'd forgotten the phone was still pressed to one ear,
going brrr, brrr!  I put it down carefully.  MY Jeremy, she'd called him.
And MY Smegs?  "Let's go fetch your case anyway.  We can manage it between
us."









   Part VIII









   Chapter 22:- A Missing Person



   When do you start getting worried when your bestest friend doesn't come
home?  An hour or two?  Lunchtime?  Late afternoon?  Bedtime?

   Okay, I should have noticed, but Corinne and I were so busy unpacking;
stowing all her stuff away, all her nice interesting clothes; getting her
laptop computer thingie working.  She even had a modem and a connection to
the Internet, and it was well dark outside before we'd finished getting
that to work without blowing every fuse in the school switchboard.  She
used it standing up, I noticed.  Perhaps if she took her bra off, she could
see the keyboard ...

   "...  you must be getting worried about Megan, aren't you?"

   I went red.  Confession time.  I hadn't even thought of Smegs more than
half a dozen times all day since finding her room still empty this morning.
Now here it was, getting late, and she still hadn't showed up.

   "Are you sure she's done this before?  As long as this, I mean?"

   "She's disappeared before, but not as long as this, no.  She usually
gets home before lunchtime."

   "Has she gone home for the weekend?  You could ring her folks ..."

   "She hasn't anybody.  Only an aunt up North that she hates.  She hasn't
anywhere to go but here.  This *is* her home, Corinne."

   Corinne came closer.  I was sitting on her bed and I suppose I must have
suddenly started to look worried.  She sat next to me, our breasts bumping
against each other as the bed sagged.  Normally, we might have laughed, but
somehow - although we were both aware of it - we said nothing.  Her arm was
around my shoulders.  Her fingers were digging into my upper arm.  Little
soft fingers, but strong, somehow.  She gave me a squeeze.

   "Should we call the police, Shan?"

   "The police?  But what if she's not lost, if nothing's happened.  She'll
create merry hell if we've set the police on her."

   "The hospitals?"

   "Corinne, don't, please!" Her arm tightened its grip.

   "Give me the number of the local hospital.  I'll try the police as well.
You go and put the kettle on.  White coffee for me, no sugar." Corinne
picked up the phone and tapped out three nines.  That's done it, I thought,
this is now officially an emergency.  I could hardly see through the tears
as I went into the kitchen and filled the kettle.  In the background, I
could hear Corinne talking to the operator.

   "Shan, quick!" I hurried through.  Surely they haven't found her
already? She's not ...

   "What is it?"

   "Megan Mountains.  Yes, last night.  Twenty-two?" Corinne looked at me
for confirmation.  "How tall, Shan?"

   "Five ten."

   "Five ten, blonde hair, shortish.  What was she last seen wearing?"

   I choked.  "I don't know!  She went out without ..."

   Corinne gave a few more details, a number, gave her name, spelled it
out. "Yes, Meadowlark, like the bird," and put the phone down.  I was well
away by then, bawling my eyes out.  She didn't even say a word, she just
held me tight until I quietened down a bit.

   "Where did Miss Thunderbolt go?"

   "I don't know.  Business, she said."

   "Shan, try to think.  Boyfriend?  Does she have a regular boyfriend?"

   "Not regular, you could try ...  oh, I can't remember his name, he's on
the school board of governors.  I don't even know where he lives.  I'm
USELESS!  And it's all my fault Smegs has gone, and now she's ...  she
could be...!"

   "Are there any more teachers around, Shan?  We need to get something
organised.  Think, love, come on!"

   Think!  How can I think?

   A police car came up the drive, its siren whooping.  We already had an
emergency.  Now we had a drama as well.



   **********

   Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen was in residence.  She heard the police car
arrive, and emerged from her room, fully dressed and immaculately made up.
"Is it a fire?" she asked, in a voice filled with hope.  But she provided
moral support as we sat in Corinne's little room, trying to help the police
with their enquiries.

   There was a nice police woman who sat with us, totally engrossed by the
size of Corinne's and my bosoms.  She was taking notes, but was unable to
keep her eyes away from the two pairs of heaving breasts which seemed to be
occupying half the room.  "Are you a teacher, Miss, or one of the
students?" Corinne still had her hair in a ponytail and looked about
twelve.

   "I'm the teacher who called you, Corinne Meadowlark.  This is
Chauntaille Gruntworthy, she's Miss Mountains' friend."

   The policewoman looked at me sharply, probably wondering where I had
dumped the body.  A jealous lover?

   "Have we any idea what she was wearing, Miss Gruntworthy?"

   I led the way into Smegs's room and we plundered her wardrobe, sorting
out the clothes and avoiding the mysterious black plastic sacks filling the
wardrobe.  "Don't open those!" I told the policewoman.  Mercifully, she
didn't.  I bet she made notes in her book that I was storing female body
parts in a wardrobe.

   At last, by a process of elimination, we worked out that Smegs was
probably wearing cord jeans, Doc Martens, a stripey shirt and possibly her
bright red sweater.

   "Build?" asked the policewoman.

   "Sorry?"

   "Her build.  Miss ...  Mountains?" Her eyes rolled in their sockets as
she confirmed the name of the missing person from a form.  "Megan.  How
tall?  Slim?  Well-built?  Stocky?  Obese?"

   "Sixty, twenty-four, thirty-five." The policewoman's pen wrote a few
strokes, then stopped in disbelief.  She looked up at me from the page and
I continued.  "Five feet ten and a little bit.  Athletic, apart from her
... you know?  Blonde hair, shortish, hangs down across her eyes and she
has to keep flicking it away ..." No good, I was too choked to say any
more.

   "Thanks, sweetheart.  You've given us a lot of help." The policewoman
stared at the unlikely measurements she had written down, but after she had
looked again at Corinne and me, she evidently decided not to say anything
more.  She closed her book with a little plop and stood up.  She was going.
Back to the station for sandwiches and a cup of Bovril or whatever the
constabulary had for their duty supper in the police canteen.

   "Look after her," she said softly as she left, and Corinne nodded.  She
already was looking after me.

   Minutes later, we stood in my cheesy little room.  "Your bed's freezing!
Damp!  You can't sleep in there." She led me by the hand into her room. 
"You can have the bed.  I'll stay by the phone.  That armchair looks
comfortable enough for me anyway." She even turned away politely when I
undressed, with numb fingers, and slid between the clean sheets.

   I know I woke up once and saw her tapping away at her keyboard with the
desk lamp pulled down close so it didn't shine on the bed and keep me
awake. In my muddled state I noticed that she was managing to use a laptop
although her lap was fully occupied.  Extremely fully.

   She was so young-looking, and fragile, and tiny, and vulnerable, and
lovely.  Yet so capable.  She had just walked in and taken over.  Finding
Smegs, looking after me.  I turned my face into the pillow and cried,
making just enough noise so she could hear me.  Corinne let me cry for a
few minutes, then I felt the bed dip under her weight.  The weight of her
huge breasts?  Then her sweet breath was on my wet cheek, and her lips ...

   I could sleep soundly now.



   **********

   "How d'you like your tea, Shan?"

   Smegs wouldn't ask me that.  Not only did Smegs know exactly how I took
my tea, a cavalcade of wild horses would never have persuaded her to make
me a cup in the morning.  A face swam into focus.  Long blonde hair, pure
blue eyes: weary eyes, but still bright.

   "I brought you a cup, here, sit up.  It's just gone seven o' clock." I
shuddered.  Seven o' clock on a Sunday morning?  Was there even such a
time? I took the mug from Corinne's tiny hand, our fingers touching
briefly. It felt like a little electric shock.  This was ridiculous, I
thought.

   "No news from the police, but they said not to worry.  They're trying
all the usual places, whatever that means.  Here.  Sit up straighter." She
shoved a pillow behind me, and I tried to touch her hand with my lips as
she withdrew it.

   "Thanks." She looked knackered.  "Did you sleep at all?"

   "A bit.  I dozed off in the armchair." She yawned, and sank down,
sitting on the edge of the narrow bed, her head going down on to the
pillow. Oh the poor love, she was exhausted!

   "I'll get up and you can have a couple of hours.  Come on." I took a
gulp of the tea.  Mother used to have a teaspoon with the words 'Tea
Revives You' embossed inside the bowl.  Until now, I'd been sceptical.  Not
any more.

   I got out of Corinne's bed, and found my clothes, dressed quickly and
stirred the fire.  A couple of tired embers glowed and I tipped a few lumps
of coal on top.  "I'll have to clear out the ashes later.  Do you fancy
breakfast?  They start serving at seven thirty, even at weekends.  I'll go
and brush my teeth."

   Corinne wasn't answering.  She was out like a light, dribbling slightly
into her pillow.  A strand of hair was across her eyes and mouth, lifting
slightly each time she breathed.  I tucked it away, then lifted her legs
carefully on to the bed.  They weighed nothing.  She was lying on the
duvet, and now that her feet were up on the bed, I had rolled her on to her
back.  No chance of moving her off the duvet to cover her up properly.

   More than anything in the world, I wanted to undress her, make her
comfortable.  At least, on her back, her boobs weren't getting squashed.  I
slipped her sensible little black shoes off.  Her feet were tiny, in pink
socks.  Little feet, little hands.  Shan, for God's sake, cover the girl up
before you do something unfortunate.  I fetched the duvet from my room and
gently covered her.  She stirred in her sleep, but didn't wake, even when I
smoothed back her hair and kissed her forehead.



   **********

   Corinne was just waking when I came back from breakfast, clutching a
crisp bacon sandwich wrapped in a paper napkin.  "Hungry?  I brought you a
little snack."

   She fell on it and it disappeared in five seconds flat.  "What's the
time?" She put a hand across her mouth and her eyes opened wide as she gave
a refined belch.  She bit her lip and looked thoroughly ashamed of herself.
"God, you are a little pig, Meadowlark!" she muttered. o "Just gone half
past eight.  Starting to rain.  I hope Smegs isn't out in it.  Did the law
say we should call them again?"

   "No, they said they'd call us if anything came up.  That bacon sarnie
was lovely.  I must have been starving."

   "Did you want something else?  They're still serving breakfast, I
think."

   "No, I'll last out.  But a cup of coffee would be ..."

   The phone rang.  And again.  "I'm frightened, Corinne!"

   "Shall I?" Corinne reached for the phone.  "Hello, Corinne Meadowlark."

   She listened for a moment, then without a word she handed it to me.

   "Shan?  That you?"

   "Smegs?  Smegs, is that you.  Where are you?  We've been looking
everywhere.  The police, everything.  Where are you, at the police
station?"

   Her voice was cracking, she sounded muffled.

   "I'm at Fillamore Deepleigh.  The police?  Shan, why?  What's happened?"

   "What's *happened*?  You bloody disappeared without a word, that's
what's happened.  We've been worried sick, the police are dragging all the
rivers and searching the woods.  I'll have to call them and tell them
you're all right.  Why didn't you just say something?" I could see Corinne
waving her arms about, trying to tell me something, shaking her head until
her hair flopped around and her breasts wobbled massively beneath her
sweater.

   "Shan, don't be mad!" Smegs's voice wasn't muffled, she was crying into
the phone.  "I'm calling from Baps's house.  I haven't slept all night.  I
don't know what to doooooo!"

   There was no use both of us crying, it wasn't going to solve anything.
But I tried to speak, and nothing would come out but a croak.  I shook my
head and gave the phone to Corinne.  "Say something!" I gasped.

   "Megan," I heard her say.  "Corinne.  I know.  You don't know me.  No,
Shan can't talk at the moment.  She can't SAY anything.  How soon can you
get back before this poor girl breaks down completely?  She hasn't slept
either, and nor have I!" The voice at the other end said something, just
odd words with long gaps in between.  "That's all right, I'll call off the
police dogs.  I'll tell them you're safe and sound.  By train?  On your
own? No, no way on your own!" Another silence, while Corinne drummed her
fingers on the desk and examined her fingernails.  My insides were turning
to water as she looked up at me and grinned, then started speaking again.

   "You've got a return ticket?  Good.  Shan sends you all her love, you
hear?  Right.  Okay!  We'll see you soon.  Take care." She puffed out her
cheeks and put the phone down.  "Wow!  Is she always like that?"

   "Like what?  She was crying."

   "Worse than that.  She was going on about how sorry she was and she'd
make it up to you if you were still here when she got back, and would I
explain to her.  That's you I have to explain to, not her.  I dunno what it
is you two have got going, but I hope I never catch it!  Well, not too
soon, anyway," she said more softly, catching sight of my face.

   "She's coming back today?"

   "Who's Cassandra?" Corinne went off at a tangent.

   "Cassandra?  Cassie?  That's Baps's little sister.  Well, not so little!
She's bigger than both of us, and she's no age at all.  She works at Baps's
Girl Dairy.  Baps is my old girlfriend from Fillamore Deepleigh.  What
about Cassandra, anyway?"

   "She needs to come up to St Cat's, for some reason, urgently.  She's
going to come up with Megan and they can look after each other on the
train. Bigger than *you*, even?" I nodded.  "This I must see!"

   "She's big all over." I imitated a gorilla, without the sound effects.
"But her tits are gigantic.  Brobdingnagian, actually.  She's really a
sweetie.  You'll like her.  I wonder what she wants."

   "Smegs said something about another new bra, or something."

   "Another?  She's only had that one a couple of weeks!  Bloody hell,
Corinne.  Forget what I told you about how big she is.  Cassie's even
bigger than that." I watched Corinne as she gathered up her hair and
inspected the ends of her pony tail.  "How did Smegs take to you?  I mean,
you've never met or anything."

   "Dunno.  Once she calmed down, she sounded relieved.  As if ...  I don't
know.  Anyway, she's coming back.  That's all that matters!" She clapped
her hand across her mouth.  "Hey, I'd better call the fuzz.  They'll be
dragging all those rivers, still!  At least, I can make their day."

   "And mine, Corinne!  Thanks for everything!"

   She was laughing as she unwound my arms from around her neck.

   "Hey, save it for Megan, right?  Shan, get off, please!" She held me at
arms's length.  She was surprisingly strong for a little girl.  Must have
been something to do with carrying those bloody great things around for
half her life.  She giggled again, infectiously.  "That's better. 
Honestly, carry on like that, and I won't be responsible for my actions. 
How's about that coffee, anyway?"

   I floated into the kitchen on silver wings, still feeling the spot where
Corinne's fingers had casually brushed the outside of my breast; hearing
Corinne's lovely, oh-so-competent voice as she explained to the nice
policewoman that Smegs was all right, and she was on her way back to St
Cat's - home to her loved ones.

   "How d'you take it again?" I called, and felt the performing spleen do a
triple Salchow as Corinne blew me a kiss, her blue eyes sparkling and full
of fun.

   "Any way you care to do it, Shan-tail!"









   Chapter 23:- Reunion



   I must have jumped up ten times if it was once.  The last time, I didn't
get up at all.

   "Is that a car?" Corinne went to the window.  "Look, it is, see the
headlights." I joined her, pulling back the curtains.

   "It must be a taxi, it stopped at the front door, where they always
stop. It's them, isn't it?  I'll go and see."

   "Take a coat if you're going outside, you're shivering already, look."
That was nerves, Corinne.  I took the jacket she offered me.

   "Hey, nice one.  Nearly fits, too!" A towel hit the wall above my head
as I ducked happily and went out of the door.  It was the taxi, I saw Smegs
signing the chit for the driver to put it on the St Cat's taxi account. 
Cassie was getting out of the other side with an overnight bag.  Smegs, of
course, had no baggage at all.  I was out of the door in the drizzling
rain, wrapping myself around Smegs as the taxi pulled away and Cassie
watched us uncertainly.

   "Smegs, I missed you so much.  I was terrified something had happened to
you.  We looked everywhere, and it was all my fault for being so rotten to
you, darling ..." Kiss, kiss, kiss, snog, snog, snog.  Smegs wasn't exactly
being passive through all this.  If we didn't get indoors, we'd have been
tearing each other's clothes off right there on the gravel path.

   "Let's get in," she said at last.  Poor Cassie was glad to get inside
anyway.

   "Hello, Shan," she said, shyly, perhaps a little taken aback by our
passionate greeting.

   "Hi, Cassie.  Sorry about keeping you outside.  What brings you down
here again?"

   "Same again.  My bra shrunk!"

   "One way of looking at it, I suppose.  Let's have a look at you." She
stood under the lights in the lobby.  "Bloody hell, Cass, you don't go in
for half measures, do you!  You must be bigger than your sister now."

   "I was bigger than her *last* time they grew.  She got all nasty until
she realised she could borrow my new clothes.  She can have them now, they
don't fit me any more.  Sweaters, three made to measure shirts, and three
new ScatBras.  Mum's right pissed off.  And I'm Cassandra now, I've
decided. It sounds a bit more grown up."

   I linked arms with Smegs and grown up Cassandra took my other arm. 
"Come on.  Corinne's put the kettle on and I lit the fire in your room. 
We've tidied up a bit.  Cass, you can have my bed tonight.  We lit the fire
in there as well."

   "Can I get milked in the morning, Shan?"

   "Oh, Cass, darling!  I forgot.  Can you express it yourself?"

   "It seems a horrible waste, Shan," Smegs squeezed my arm.  "Can't we
just milk her and keep it for our coffee?"

   "I suppose so." No arguments with Smegs for at least twenty-four hours,
I had promised myself.  We had arrived at my door.  "This is yours, Cass.
Make yourself comfortable then come next door.  We'll see you there."

   "Okay, Shan," she giggled, thrilled at being away from home for the
night.

   "Come on, Smegs.  Time to meet the new teacher." She looked nervous.  I
pulled her behind me, her feet dragging in protest.

   "Smegs, meet Corinne Meadowlark.  Corinne, the long-lost Smegs."

   Corinne looked a little apprehensive, but then she saw Smegs's
expression.  She held out her arms to the taller girl and without a word
they hugged each other, not saying a word.  At last, they pulled back to
arms' length, looking each other up and down.

   "Shan was right about one thing," Smegs said softly.  "You've got the
most amazing tits!" Corinne blushed prettily.  She was learning the ropes
by now.  "But she didn't do you justice.  She forgot to mention how lovely
you are.  Our Shan's a very forgetful girl, sometimes."

   "Find a seat," Corinne bustled away into the kitchen.  "I found a big
can of soup.  Where's Cassie?  Is she coming in?"

   "She's Cassandra now, apparently.  She just grew up.  In a minute. 
She'll have some."

   "Mugs be all right?  We're fresh out of soup bowls and spoons." Corinne
brought in three steaming mugs and set them down.  "Don't burn your
tongues, it's boiling hot."

   "No, mother!"

   Corinne aimed a gentle punch at my arm.

   "What did the police say?" Smegs cupped her hands round her mug and
gazed into the steam as if looking into the future.

   "I spoke to the nice policewoman." Corinne dipped a finger into her soup
and fished out a speck of detritus.  "I should have washed the mugs,
really. She may want to see us tomorrow.  She said we did the right thing,
calling them.  It's a pity, she said, but it would have been worse if we
hadn't ...  and something had happened." We were in danger of getting
morbid.  Cassandra saved us by knocking on the door and poking her head
round it.

   "Come on, Cass.  Grab your soup and tell us all the news."



   **********

   "You were right!" Corinne shook her head.  "Can she hear us through that
door?  She is bloody preposterous, isn't she!  But does she always go to
bed early?"

   "She gets up early at home.  Five o' clock for the milking.  So she's in
bed by ten.  And she's only a kid.  No age at all.  Anyway, that's a good
word, Cee," said Smegs.  "Preposterous?  We haven't used that one.  Where
does it rate alongside gargantuan?"

   "Or Brobdingnagian?"

   We were quiet for a bit.

   "Funny you should call me that.  They called me Cee at school.  When
they talked to me at all, that was."

   "Well talk to you, Cee," I told her, squeezing her hand.

   "Thanks, Shan!" And she didn't insist on having her hand back.

   "I don't know about Cass," Smegs stretched her ams above her head.  "But
I'm knackered myself.  I didn't sleep much, with one thing and another."

   "If you two are tired, don't wait up for me, darlings.  I had a bit of a
rough night myself!"

   "Oh, Cee, you didn't sleep at all.  Smegs, she spent the entire night in
that chair while I was in her bed.  Let's leave the girl to get some
sleep."

   "Well, in that case, Cee." Smegs stood up and offered me her hand.  I
felt embarrassed somehow.  Blushing, I touched Corinne on the arm.

   "Thanks for everything, Cee.  Breakfast at seven thirty?" I said, and
Smegs groaned.  I suddenly hugged Corinne to me and we clung together.

   "Hey, lover girl, go to bed and have a cuddle or whatever.  We're going
to be a great team, but not until tomorrow, all right?"



   **********

   "That's her, Pan!"

   "Where?" Pansy craned to see over the heads of the other girls at
breakfast.  "What?  That little blonde one?  She's only a girl!"

   Suze sniggered.  "She might look like a girl, but she's got real woman's
titties."

   "They're not as big as Shona's."

   "Not many people *are* as big as Shona.  But those things are heavy. 
Look at how she walks."

   "What's she going to teach?"

   "Support and Mobility," announced Suzanne importantly.  "That will be
all about bras and wheelbarrows and stuff."

   "And how to get on buses," suggested Shona.  "They won't let me take my
barrow on a bus."

   "And typing," offered Anastasia.

   "A whole teacher just for that?" Pansy sniffed.  "She'll have it easy."

   "Not if she has to teach the whole school," said Suzanne.  "Now even the
Juniors are getting huge, we all have to learn about it.  It's vital!"

   "Looks like she needs a new bra herself." Pansy knew about such things.
"That's not a Scat she's wearing."

   "She's getting measured today.  This morning."

   "How do you hear all this, Miss Know-all?"

   Suzanne swelled with pride.  It was hardly necessary, given her current
state of development.  "Miss Gruntworthy told me.  She said we might be
able to measure the new teacher, since we're the Junior Statistics Group."

   "Gosh!  Will they let us?" Anastasia was staring at Corinne across the
crowded restaurant.  The group of three teachers had sat down at a table
and Corinne was looking around the faces and figures of the girls with
nothing short of incredulity.

   "I hope so.  It would be better than measuring *girls* all the time!"

   "Look, Suze, there's Cassie!  What's she doing here?  She's sitting with
the teachers." Pansy waved across at her friend, who stared for a moment
then laughed and waved back.

   "Let's wander over and see her.  I've finished my brekkers anyway. 
C'mon, Pan." They got up.  "See ya later, girls," snd the two cousins
headed for the teachers' table with an air of importance.



   **********

   "Who were those two, Shan?"

   "Suzanne was the big one, the other was Pansy.  They're cousins, and
both natural, same as you."

   "Same as me, but not for long.  What are they, fourteen?"

   "Eleven.  In fact, Pansy's eleven, Suzanne's not eleven until April. 
There's another: Victoria's thirteen and she's Pansy's sister.  That's her,
over there.  Just leaving," I whispered out of the corner of my mouth.

   "She's pretty.  Gorgeous figure, too." Victoria must have known Corinne
and I were discussing her, as she flounced out, everything in magnificent
motion.  Every eye in the restaurant followed her undulating form until it
disappeared.  "Bloody hell.  She knows it, as well!"

   "I could watch her walking for hours," I said.

   "It's all right for some, with time to spare for getting horny over
little thirteen-year-olds," muttered Smegs, her usual cheery morning self.
She stood up, towering above us.  "I'm off.  Things to do I should have
done over the weekend."

   "Pity we don't have hours to spare," sighed Corinne, starting to stretch
luxuriously then changing her mind.  "It's my big day, isn't it."

   "Soon be over, and you'll be part of the scenery.  Let's go, get ready
for Moggie.  You all set, Cass?  Bring your bottle."

   Cassandra put her almost empty gallon plastic milk bottle into her bag
and joined us.  I could feel the eyes of the school following us out of the
room, but for once they weren't on me, preferring to study the new teacher
and the frankly quite mountainously overdeveloped Cassie.

   Corinne laughed shakily once we were safely outside.  "Wow, talk about
an ordeal.  Do they always stare like that?"

   "It depends what they think of you.  We seem to have a couple of hundred
breast fanciers here, so if they see a pair worth looking at, they look at
them.  Cassie says she used to it!  You still think so, Cass?"

   "It even got to me a bit," the girl admitted.  "I'm used to being the
biggest in the whole of Fillamore Deepleigh by now, but there, it's the
boys that stare.  Two hundred girls is different.  They're all wondering
what right I have to grow a pair like this at my age!"

   "I wonder that myself sometimes, Cass.  Right, you're going straight
down to see Clit?  You know the way?"

   "I'll be fine, Shan.  Or ought I to be calling you 'Miss'?"

   "Not until you start here.  Come up to Miss Thunderbolt's office after
you get your bra, she'd love to see you.  Tell Miss Labia I sent you. 
Maybe she'll have some news about getting you in here after the Summer
Holidays."

   "Do you think she might, Shan?"

   "I hope so, and Pansy and Suze would love you to come, even if you
weren't going to be in the same class.  See you, then.  And thanks for
keeping Megan company on the train." I gave her a kiss on the cheek, having
to approach her from behind and over the shoulder.  There was no point in
approaching her from the fron because the combined size of our breasts kept
us so far out of kissing range that we might as well have posted letters to
each other.

   We watched Cassandra plod away carefully down the slope.  "Right, then,
young Cee!  Moggie's back, there's her car in the car park.  Let's go and
see the old dear."

   "Not so fast, Chauntaille!  I look too much like one of her schoolgirls.
Time to put my hair up.  But I'll let you watch, if you're good!"

   I didn't say it in so many words, but I did want to watch, although I
didn't really want to be good.









   Chapter 24:- Story Time



   "Chauntaille, and Corinne!  Settled in to your new room?  A bit cramped,
but cosy, and it's private, too.  You look different, somehow.  Not so
young as you did on Saturday?"

   "I put my hair up.  It helps me to look a little older than the girls."
She patted her hair with both hands, the action causing lots of delicious
movements inside her silk blouse.  I swallowed, hoping Moggie wasn't
noticing me staring.

   "We got Cee settled in.  In fact it was a good thing she was here.  We
had a crisis, and I'm afraid I went to pieces!" I explained the whole story
of Smegs's disappearance to Moggie, while she listened with concern.

   "What about the police?  Are they going to be happy that they wasted
their time?"

   "There's a policewoman," Corinne explained.  "She's coming today, just
to clear it up.  We did the right thing, she says.  Megan *might* have been
kidnapped, or injured, or anything.  She might want a word with Megan,
though, to remind her to tell somebody next time she does a runner."

   I hung my head.  "It was my fault.  You heard me shouting at her.  You
know what she's like.  I should have thought."

   "I'll speak to her, don't worry, Shan.  And thank you, Corinne!  You
seem to have jumped straight in at the deep end at St Cat's.  We're not
like this all the time, luckily." Moggie changed the subject, the way she
does so well, and so abruptly.  "Now then.  If we had carried out a normal
interview, we would have taken a few of your personal details, Corinne. 
Perhaps this morning we can clear up the omissions?"

   "Sure, what did you want to know...?"

   "Just little things that aren't on your CV, your measurements, things
like that ..."

   "My measurements?  You mean that's *normal*?"

   "It is at St Cat's!  We're a rather special school in some respects. 
And since we offer breast enhancement to needy girls, we now have a policy
of recording the measurements of all our girls, and maintaining a log of
all variations.  And of course, if the girls have to provide this
information, it is only right that the teachers should do the same."

   "Oh, I see ..." Corinne began to look around the office, as if for
escape.  "You mean, you would have measured me right here in this office on
Friday if you hadn't been ...  if it had been a normal interview?"

   "Yes, the central heating was on, it was quite pleasantly warm in here."

   "But ...!  I'd have had to undress?"

   Moggie looked closely at Corinne's bust, as if noticing it for the first
time.  "I think that would be advisable.  You are a very large size, and we
would prefer to measure *you* rather than your existing brassiere." Poor
Corinne looked strangely flustered.  Not at all the capable girl who had
taken control during the Smegs crisis.  "Is something the matter?  Do you
have a problem with that?"

   "N-no.  Well, no, not really." Corinne was bright red.  Moggie seemed to
be waiting for something to happen.

   "Miss," I interrupted.  "We don't have to do it here, do we?  Here and
now, I mean?"

   "I don't see why not.  Won't take a minute."

   I had to come to Corinne's defence.  "We need to do it properly.  As you
say, Corinne is very large.  You can't take chances.  You would want to get
the correct data."

   "I suppose so, but what are you suggesting?  Doing it privately, in her
own room?" She made it sound like some sort of shocking perversion.

   "Privately, yes.  Maybe in the bra facility.  They can do it most
efficiently there, and it will be an opportunity for Miss Meadowlark to
inspect the facility for herself, as Support and Mobility Mistress."

   "I suppose she could," Moggie said doubtfully.  "It seems an awful waste
of the seamstresses' time, though."

   "Ten minutes.  And they're usually stocktaking on a Monday morning
anyway."

   "Oh, all right.  Just make sure you do it right, that's all."

   "Oh, and Cassie ...  that is, Cassandra Uddamore, from Fillamore
Deepleigh?  She's here again for yet another bigger bra..."

   "Bigger again?  You must ask her to see me."

   "I was going to send her up.  She wants to come to St Cat's, but she's
worried about her mother not being able to afford the fees ..."

   "Let me have a word with her.  How big is she now?"

   "Mammoth!"

   "That's big.  We can probably fit her in after Summer, or even after
Easter.  How old did you say she was?"

   "I didn't."

   "Well, how old is she?"

   "She's no age at all, really, but she's big enough and bright enough."

   "You'll get me thrown in jail, Chauntaille.  All right, send her up,
I'll ask her a few questions."



   **********

   "Whew, thanks, Shan!  I thought I was going to have to strip off in her
office!"

   "So did I!  Cee, is there a problem with stripping off?  I mean, you're
shy about it, but is there anything we ought to know ...?"

   Corinne had gone an even deeper red.  We had almost reached her room.

   "Come in a minute, Shan.  Can I show you something?"

   I was puzzled, and a bit worried.  Corinne's breasts were real, weren't
they?  Nothing else could possibly jiggle like that.  If they weren't real,
we had a problem on our hands.  We'd have to enlarge her chemically, and
that was risky.

   "Sit down," she told me.  Corinne remained standing, took off the little
black bow round her neck and unbuttoned her blouse.  A glimpse of creamy
flesh appeared between the edges of the blouse, and she quickly held them
together.  "I am shy, and you will see why when I show you.  It might take
me a while to summon up the courage.  Can you be patient, Shan?  Please?"

   I was eating myself up with curiosity.  "I've got a class after lunch.
Will it take that long?" her face clouded, and I realised it hadn't been
the right moment for jokes.  "Sorry, Cee.  Take your time.  Tell me about
it."

   She hesitated for so long I wondered if she had fallen asleep on her
feet.  "Nobody has seen me like this ...  I mean, without my top ...  for a
couple of years.  I've grown a lot in that time.  And the last time anyone
saw me was a most unpleasant experience.  For me." Tears came to her eyes.
"I can't do it, Shan!"

   I stood up and held her shoulders.  She was so tense.  "Come on, sit
down.  Tell me everything."

   "Everything?"

   "From the beginning."

   She swallowed and gulped.

   "I was ten.  Perfectly normal.  Now I look round at girls like Suzanne
and I think ...  I dunno what I think.  But I was ten, and flat.  Nothing.
It didn't matter, most of the other girls had no boobs either.  And when
mine came, they were nothing special, just little things.  Little bumps.  I
was a skinny little kid, and I had these two little ...  like mounds on my
chest.  I suppose I was pleased with them.  I mean, they showed I was
growing up.  My Mum had a nice pair, nothing huge, just a bit bigger than
average size, whatever that is.  How big's yours, Shan?"

   "My what?" I asked, startled.

   She re-focused her gaze on me.  "Your Mum's bust," she said, as if
wondering how I'd thought she could have meant anything else.

   "Pretty large," I told her.  "She had ...  the whole of Fillamore
Deepleigh village had a bit of a mini-plague of breast growth and
Uncontrollable Horniness.  My mother grew as well.  She's a nice fifty
inches now."

   "Nice small ones then," said Corinne.  I don't know if my Mother would
have agreed with that.  Corinne continued.  "My Mum's are about
thirty-eight, I suppose.  You know, firm and rounded.  She's a bit bigger
than me in the body, not tiny, like I am.  I suppose all my growth's gone
into these.  Anyway ..."

   She'd stopped again, and we sat side by side on the bed.  I could feel
the heat of her thigh and the weight of her breast where it rested on my
upper leg.  I gave her shoulders a little squeeze to encourage her to carry
on.

   "Anyway, I sort of kept pace with the other girls in my class, or maybe
I was a little bigger up top.  I guess it looked a bit that way because I
was a skinny little thing compared to the others - big fit healthy ten year
olds.  And eleven year olds.  We were getting older.  I didn't go to a posh
private school like St Cat's, just the Secondary school in the next town.
It was because we lived on the edge of two towns, I mean our address was in
one, but I had to go to school in the other 'cos of where we lived, and it
meant catching the school bus.  And I was growing up, and since I was
skinny and had reasonable-sized boobs and blonde hair, some of the boys
thought 'this is a sure thing', and tried to get off with me."

   "On the bus?"

   "On the bus, behind the bike sheds, anywhere.  Mostly on the bus,
though. And I didn't want to.  They were the same age as me or a little bit
older, and they were just spotty-faced kids who wanted a quick grope so
they could tell their mates all about it.  They kept score, would you
believe.  The bigger the tits, the more points they got.  Shit!"

   "How many points were you?" I heard my voice say.

   "Five, then.  The others in my class would have been one, two or three.
Five wasn't bad for an eleven year old.  See, I knew I was a five-pointer,
and I was proud of it, in a way, but I didn't want the groping and
feeling-up that went with it.  Then I shot up to ten points, and twenty!"

   "Gosh!"

   "It was gosh, all right!  There I was, still skinny and short, and I
went from a sort of little B cup right up to an F, in about a month!  It
was crazy.  There I was with these great big things sticking out, and
suddenly the boys weren't bothering with accumulating points from the other
girls any more.  I was worth twenty, and that was worth any five of the
others.  If they went for me, they collected one slap in the face and
twenty points: if they went and grabbed five other girls, they'd come up
with three slaps in the face, maybe, and fifteen points.  No contest!  It
was open season for Big Cee."

   "Is that what they called you?  What did you do?"

   "I found out where they kept their balls.  That worked all right!" She
giggled at the recollection.

   "Did they ...  did you keep on growing?"

   "For a while, it got even faster!  By the time I was twelve, my Mum
couldn't get me a ready made bra anywhere, being such a small body band
size and such zonking great cups.  So I had to have them custom made. 
Well, you know the problem, I don't need to tell you all that."

   "Yeah, tell me about it!"

   "I am!  Anyway, after that it sort of slowed down.  Mum said I was
growing just fast enough to make sure I never wore my clothes out, I just
got too big for them.  No little sisters to hand them down to, and my old
cast-off bras were no use to *anybody*!"

   "At least I never had trouble with boys when I got my big ones," I told
her.  "I was safely tucked away in here.  Lock up your daughters!  And
anyway, I was nowhere near the size of you at that age."

   "Seems funny, that." Corinne glanced at my shirt-filling breasts where
they rested on my thighs next to hers.  "I mean, look at yours now, miles
bigger than mine, yet you say they were never all that big when you were a
little kid."

   "That's right.  It all happened to me in the last couple of years. 
Didn't you find any nice boys?  That was the trouble with being here, you
only saw boys at holiday time."

   "I found them, but every time I saw one I fancied, he would run a mile.
Boys have to conform, don't they.  They're not allowed to have a girlfriend
who's too fat, or too skinny, or wears thick glasses.  Or who has fucking
great tits!"

   That was two things I'd just realised about Corinne.  First, I'd never
seen her without all her clothes on, and second, that was the first time
I'd heard her swear.  I guess you don't notice, we all use bad language the
whole time.  Someone comes along who doesn't swear, and the only time you
really notice it is when they eventually do.  She'd gone very quiet after
her moment of weakness, and I only realised she was crying when she put her
hand up to her face and a teardrop splashed on to my left tit.

   "Whay-up Cee?  Come on!" My arm was already behind her, on the bed.  I
placed it round her back, just below her arm, and pulled her close to me.
Maybe I pulled too hard, or I caught her off balance or something, but she
was suddenly almost on top of me, her head buried in my cleavage, somehow.
It felt nice, even with her tears soaking through my blouse, her little
body was all limp and helpless.  She was even trying to climb into my lap,
but that was a waste of effort, there's no room in there for me, never mind
anyone else.

   What I did notice was that the view of her cleavage had improved quite a
bit, and I certainly wasn't about to do anything to change that, so I held
her close and whispered comforting noises , bending to place my mouth next
to her ear, and to try and sneak a glimpse of that overloaded bra.

   "You're making me all wet," I said, and I did really, honestly mean it
was her tears that were soaking me, but then I realised I was also overdue
for a change of panties.  At least, Smegs would be pleased with me for
that.

   "Sorry," and she raised her face from my breasts, just as I bent again
to whisper something else to her.  And when my lips made contact, it wasn't
with her little pink ear, it was with *her* lips; hot, wet and parting
under mine, then our tongues touched at their tips, and went exploring, the
way tongues always do, the little devils.  We didn't come up for air for
several minutes, then she tensed and began to go rigid in my arms.  I
opened my eyes.  "Shan, no!"

   "Darling, Cee, it's all right!"

   "It can't be all right." She sat up, caught sight of her open blouse and
pulled it together with her hand.  "I shouldn't be feeling like this, it's
all wrong!"

   "You can't tell yourself how you should feel, Cee!"

   "But I'm not a ...  I'm a girl." I let her get up and watched her walk
to the window.  She looked out, watching the girls walking to and fro
outside, between classes.  "On my first day, as well.  What am I going to
do, Shan?"

   "Well, for a start, I'll tell you what you're *not* going to do!  You
are not going to be measured today!" I joined her at the window.  "Turn
round and face this way."

   "Why?" She sounded apprehensive.

   "Just turn round.  How can I do these buttons up if you don't?  There!"
We both looked down at her, all neatly put away out of sight.  Then that
little black bow.  I tied it and made sure it was straight.  More than
anything else in the world, I wanted to tear that blouse off her, and
follow it with that huge bra.  "Now, hold still.  Close your eyes."

   This time, she didn't struggle, she just melted against me until we
reached a natural point to break the kiss, and even then we carried on
holding tightly to each other for what seemed like simply ages.  "Now, I
have to take you round the school and introduce you to the girls.  You'd
better put your hair up again: that tousled look makes you look good enough
to eat, but it also makes you look even younger than the students; and they
are quite capable of having their wicked way with you.  Some of them are
even hornier than I am when they see something as wonderful as you."

   Corinne blushed prettily.

   "Shan.  Can I finish my story later?  This afternoon?  I have to tell
you.  And I know Miss Thunderbolt wants to have me measured.  We can do
that, too.  But not today!  Is tomorrow too late?  Please?"

   "Tomorrow will be fine.  Your hair looks lovely like that.  Quite like a
schoolteacher, really.  Schoolmistressly.  Are you ready, then?  Let's go
into the lions' den.  I'll look after you, don't worry."

   She squeezed my hand.  "Thanks!"

   Halfway down the stairs, I realised something.  Smegs was going to kill
me for this.

   I had forgotten to change my panties.  Again!









   Part IX









   Chapter 25:- New Love Conquers All



   Corinne scanned the bundle of printouts I had given her.  "These are
pretty comprehensive, aren't they?  Measurements and all, for all the
girls. What are these letters against each name?"

   "N is for natural, M is for macromastia, the C's are chemically
enhanced. Some of the N's convert to M's, but we do have more than our fair
share of macro girls, as the list shows you."

   "It certainly does.  Some of these numbers are ridiculous!  Surely
they're not right?"

   "We take extra care to verify all our figures." I felt like a Government
official.  "Some of the figures may be a little out of date, they're last
Monday's.  Could be a few inches out.  May I?" I took the sheets from
Corinne and she looked at me wonderingly as I ran a finger down the list.
"Hmm.  Not bad.  Look, all the chemical girls are stable at the moment,
apart from young Abi.  Let's see ...  Shona's milking ...  she'll be
yo-yo-ing about a foot or so each way.  And a couple of the macro girls
will be the usual inch or so bigger.  Apart from that, they're pretty
representative."

   I handed her the list, and she tucked the sheets into her notepad. 
"I'll be jotting down the odd note about some of the girls, if that's all
right?"

   "Fine!  Right, we'll start with the Juniors and work our way up,
although I don't know which are more unnerving.  The First Form is in the
lab this morning.  Normally, I'd be with them, but Darren is looking after
them today.  He's our technician.  He joined us when we had a girl dairy a
few years ago.  Some of the girls like him.  All right if you fancy that
sort of thing.  He's ...  how can I say it?  Hung like a stallion."

   Corinne's eyes widened as she glanced at me.  "Is that natural, or
chemically enhanced?"

   "Don't ask!"

   We went down the steps and round the corner to the Chemistry laboratory.
"Here we go," I said, and we managed a little touch of the fingers as I
opened the door.

   Sometimes, when you walk into a classroom, all the girls stand up and
chant "Good Morning, Miss GRUNT-worthy" in that cloying sing-song unison.
One could cheerfully throttle the little bastards.  The First Form never
went in for such organised mockery of their elders and betters.  They
ignored you totally and magnificently.

   In groups of three and four, they were gathered round their workbenches,
heating flasks of luridly bubbling potions, weighing things, making notes
or just giggling.  They carried right on doing it as we went in.  Darren
had his feet up on the desk, reading a mass-circulation tabloid newspaper.
A tinny little rhythm was leaking from his headphones.  I couldn't
recognise it, although it certainly wasn't 'God Save the Queen'.

   "Good morning, girls!" The class looked up in well-rehearsed surprise. A
few rebelliously conventional voices wished me a good morning.  "Pay
attention, please.  This is our new Support and Mobility Mistress, Miss
Meadowlark.  Please carry on with your work.  Miss Meadowlark and I will
move among you, and we may speak to some of you.  The rest, please carry
on."

   Darren, meanwhile, had an expression of indignation on his face at
having his reverie shattered.  "This is Corinne Meadowlark," I said,
sweetly, and Corinne offered a tiny hand, which Darren grasped in a moist
paw.  He looked her up and down, before deciding where his priorities lay
and fixed his gaze firmly on Corinne's breasts before saying 'Hi!'

   "Hi!" said Corinne, looking closely at Darren's hair, then taking a few
paces to one side to study his bottom, as well as she could.  She even
raised his upper lip like a horse doctor.  Finally, she bent slightly and
peered at his groin, before standing back, apparently satisfied.

   "What's she looking at?" Darren demanded, peevishly.

   "I don't know, Darren.  I doubt if Corinne does, either.  Carry on with
whatever you were doing.  We'll go and see if the class has burnt the
school down yet."

   We started our little tour.  Most of the groups were working on Sexual
Chemistry of one sort or another.  When I asked them what they were
producing, they answered in appropriate monosyllables.

   "Tits, Love and Fuck are the three basic elements of the First Form
Sexual Chemistry Group's work," I explained, seeing Corinne's alarmed
expression.  They are usually present in varying quantities, and the
proportions are critical." We wandered down the centre of the lab, aware of
eyes following us warily.  "Criticality is the major problem, that and
chemical contamination of one sort or another.  Now, this group is most
advanced, and we've let them fly at their own pace.  They're on the verge
of a major breakthrough."

   We stopped next to the bench at the front of the lab.  Suzanne was
decanting a putrid-looking sludge-green treacle into an orangey-pink liquid
topped with canary-yellow froth.  Little burps of reddish steam jetted
forth, and bubbles burst occasionally with tiny squeaks, which made the
girls sound oddly pleased.

   "Here's Pansy, Suzanne, Anastasia and Shona.  You met some of these at
breakfast.  That was Shona's wheelbarrow parked outside.  What are you
girls working on?  It looks unfamiliar."

   "It's New Love, Miss.  We've gone for a radical new formula.  We're all
set to try it out this afternoon, Miss, if we can find ...  ouch!  Pan!"

   "It won't be ready for testing yet, Miss," said Pansy.  She had jabbed
her cousin in the ribs for some reason.  These girls were up to no good, I
could tell.  I wished I knew what was going on.

   Corinne consulted her data sheets.  She looked up at Suzanne and Pansy
and raised an eyebrow.  Nudging me, she pointed at the letter N against
their names with her pencil.  I nodded.  "Not M's?" she whispered.  I shook
my head.  They were borderline cases, I supposed.

   "Shona," Corinne said, smiling up at the huge First Former.  "How are
you managing with the wheelbarrow?"

   "I can't turn corners, Miss," Shona complained.  "I keep crashing and
breaking things.  But it *hurts*, Miss!  My tit gets caught on the edge of
the barrow, and I have to straighten up."

   "Perhaps we can have some wheelbarrow driving lessons," said Corinne,
brightly.  "Are there any more barrow girls at St Cat's?"

   "There's the countess," offered Anastasia.  "She's got a lovely one.  I
want *mine* to be like that!"

   "Yours, Anastasia?" I looked at her.  She was slightly bigger, but well
out of the wheelbarrow league.

   "Mine, Miss!" She seemed pretty convinced.

   "Your mixture's boiling over," Corinne pointed out.  "You'd better turn
the gas down."

   "Shit, Pan!" Suzanne shouted.  "Can't you watch out?  You can't be
trusted with the simplest little job, can you ...!"

   The mixture gave a great fizz, the froth bubbled over the edge of the
beaker and sprayed all over the place.

   "Yow!" Corinne jumped back, rubbing her wrist.  "It splashed me!"
Suzanne darted forward with a paper towel and dabbed at it.

   "Sorry, Miss," she fretted, "I think that's got most of it.  He-he! 
Good job it was only New Love, not Old Tits, Miss.  You don't need any of
that!"

   "No, I suppose not," said Corinne, unsteadily.

   "Are you all right where that stuff splashed on you?" She was rubbing
it. We were out of the lab in the corridor, having told the girls to carry
on the good work.

   "It itches a bit.  It was fairly hot, I suppose that's what's causing
it."

   "Let's have a look.  Hey, it's gone a bit red, look." I touched it.  "It
feels warm."

   "Oooh, Shan!  That feels *fantastic*!"

   "Sorry?  I only touched it!"

   "Do it again, Shan!  More.  God, you really turn me on when you do that.
Fucking hell, Shan, I want you right now!"

   "Cee?" It was only eleven o' clock.  We had six more classes to see
today.  I glanced at the clock.  No, if we went to bed now, we would be
hard pressed to finish fucking by two, and then we'd need a shower.  It
would be three before we could ...  "Sorry, Cee!" I lowered her hand
reluctantly.  "I'd love nothing more than to take you to bed and give you a
good seeing-to, but we're too short of time, darling!"

   "What?"

   "I said we're running late as it is.  Maybe tonight, after school ...?"

   "What do you mean, Shan?  Bed?  It's only eleven o' clock!"

   "But ..." Had I perhaps misheard her, or misunderstood?  I could have
sworn she said she wanted me right then.  "Ah.  We'd better go see the
Second Form girls, then.  They're doing ..." I consulted my list
."...primary Wanking!"



   **********

   And they were.  We barged in at a fairly inopportune moment.  Miss Rhys
ap Llewelyn Owen, not the first person I would have chosen as a suitable
candidate for teaching masturbation techniques to twelve-year-old girls,
was turning out to be a right little raver.

   A chorus of moaning hit us as we entered the classroom, led by Miss Rhys
ap Llewelyn Owen in her distinctive and vibrant contralto.  The girls
themselves were perched on the edges of their desks with their skirts hiked
up.  As this was a primary wanking class, there was, in theory at least, no
penetration and no direct clitoral stimulation.  All work had to be
conducted through the material of the underwear.  This would obviously
cramp the girls' style, but I must confess, you could have fooled me. 
Several of them were clearly in the final throes.

   "Sorry to interrupt, Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, if it's a difficult
time, we could come back...!"

   "No, no problem.  Morning, Miss Meadowlark, so glad all that business
with the police is over and settled.  GIRLS!" The cry rang out through the
classroom and the girls came to a halt, as it were.  "When you're ready,
Mandy!  AMANDA!!  Honestly, sorry about this!" She strode down the aisle
and seized Amanda's wrist, bringing the girl back to the present, amid a
chorus of giggles and titters.  "Now, pay attention.  Miss Gruntworthy has
something to tell you all."

   I introduced Corinne, who was clearly not quite believing what was
happening in front of her very eyes.  "You have some biggies in here." I
whispered, pointing to her list.  "The young Elphinstone girl is a very
large N, and we think Miss Ng, the Chinese girl, is probably an M." I
pointed them out for Corinne and she gasped.

   "They're so slim.  I know it says what their waist sizes are on the
list, but I never realised how small sixteen inches looked, especially with
such vast breasts.  Do they get around all right?"

   "I think they have a bit of mobility awareness at times, but they're
well compensated.  How is their wanking coming along, Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn
Owen?"

   "Considering they can't see their pussies, they do very well indeed.  I
have them both down for an A this term."

   "Excellent.  No cheating?  No crafty mirrors?"

   "Duw, no!" Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen looked horrified at the mere
suggestion.  "The next lesson is wanking in a public place, though.  That
really brings out the best in a girl."

   "Yes, I can imagine it would.  Well, if that's all, Cee?  Thank you,
girls, I'll leave you in the capable hands of Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen,
and your own, of course!"

   Always try to leave them with a laugh, it helps the orgasm go down well.
The moaning had broken out afresh before we even reached the door.



   **********

   But it was when were emerging from the door of the IT laboratory, where
we had witnessed Third Form girls of the Junior IT Studies Group preparing
an FAQ for newsgroup users who experience perennial difficulty in
downloading and viewing erotic binaries, that we were accosted by Suzanne
and Pansy, who seemed more than usually agitated.

   "Miss!  Oh, we've found you," Suzanne panted.  "Tell her, Pan, I can't
run with these tits!"

   Pansy wasn't much fitter herself.  "It's Anastasia, Miss.  In the lab!"

   Those are words to strike terror into any teacher's heart.  "What's
happened?"

   "You know how she likes to sniff the mixture, Miss?" We had turned and
were hurrying in the direction of the lab, with Suzanne puffing and
bouncing along behind us.  "Well, she was sniffing the New Love, and all
this froth on top was sort of luminous green.  And she'd got her face
really close, and she sneezed.  And the froth blew off the beaker and went
all over her face."

   "Oh, no!"

   "She looked ever so funny, Miss, like she had a green beard.  Anyway, we
wiped it off as well as we could, then thought we'd better show her to Mr
Darren, 'cos he was like in charge.  And we took her up to his desk and
woke him up, and he sort of screamed when he saw Anastasia, 'cos she still
had the stuff in her hair and round her neck.  Anyway, when he recovered,
he got his hankie out and started to wipe it off."

   "Did he get it all off, Pansy?  Why didn't he wash her face?"

   "Well, it's sort of dry froth, Miss." She screwed up her nose.  "Not
nice, but dry.  Anyway, that's not the best bit.  He was wiping it off, and
Anastasia started to like ...  moan, and she goes 'Oooh, Darren!' and he
drops his hankie and he's staring at her, and old Anastasia, she moves in
and snogs him, right there in front of the whole class!"

   "She what?  Anastasia and Darren?"

   "She did!  She was really horny, Miss.  I never saw anyone as horny. 
She's got both arms round his neck and she's just about eating his face
off, and I think Darren was starting to enjoy it, Miss, because his ..."
Pansy looked uncertainly at Corinne as if she thought that Corinne was
perhaps too young to know about such things.  "His thingie was sticking
out, Miss!" Pansy went scarlet when she heard her own voice saying such a
dreadful thing.

   "Sticking out?  You mean ...?"

   "Not out of his trousers, not out in the open air!  Well, not at first,
anyway.  Anastasia took it out for him with one hand."

   "Then what happened?"

   "Anastasia started fucking him, Miss!"

   Corinne gasped in horror and clutched my arm.  I clutched hers, and felt
a stirring of lust, most inappropriately.

   "Fucking him?  What happened?"

   "Three of us dragged her off him, Miss!" I winced at the thought, and
Corinne gave a shudder.

   "Was any damage done, Pansy," I asked her, gravely.

   "They broke a test tube, I think.  And Darren's nose was bleeding ..."

   "His nose?" Corinne gasped.  "But how did ...?" I squeezed her arm and
held up a warning hand.

   "...  it was where we pulled Anastasia off his face.  She got blood on
her knickers, and she's scared because she doesn't know which bin to put
them in for recycling.  Miss Mountains is very strict about getting our
knickers in the right bins.  'Bloody ones in the bin marked D', she always
says.  But Anastasia says that's to do with having periods, and she says
she never has those, Miss."

   "She never will, the way she's going," muttered Corinne.

   Pansy took a deep breath.

   "Where is she now?"

   "Writing up her notes, Miss." Suzanne seemed to have recovered some of
her breath, although her bosom was still heaving massively.  Her bra
creaked under the enormous stresses, and a button had come undone on her
blouse.  "As soon as we pulled her off, she sat down and starting writing
up her notes."

   "We'll have a look at her, Suzanne.  You did the right thing." Both
girls swelled dangerously with pride, and Corinne took a pace back in case
of an explosion.  "It's nearly twelve, off you go and get in the queue for
lunch."

   "Oooh, thank you, Miss!"

   Anyone would think I had offered them a sack of gold coins.

   "C'mon, Cee," I said as the cousins hurried away in search of food. 
"Let's see this victim of the New Love."

   Anastasia was writing busily in her neat, backward sloping handwriting.
I let her finish the paragraph and she put her pen down with an air of a
job well done.

   "Are you feeling all right, Anastasia?"

   "Oh, hi, Miss!  Yes, Miss, why shouldn't I?"

   "We heard about your little accident.  And about Darren."

   "Mr Darren?" She was genuinely mystified.

   "She seems a bit flushed, still," Corinne placed a hand on Anastasia's
brow.  The effect was sudden, and devastating.  Anastasia stood up and
sidled closer to Corinne, throwing her arms around her neck.  I watched
aghast as the child's wide open mouth applied itself to Corinne's, and
there came the most disgraceful sound of sucking and slobbering.  Despite
herself, Corinne was hugging Anastasia closely to her, or as close as was
possible, given Corinne's unique construction, and her tongue was just as
busy as the girl's.

   "Cee!  Corinne, what are you doing?  Let her go!" I managed to drag them
apart, although I was sorely tempted to join in and make it a threesome. 
Anastasia and Corinne stood panting for a few seconds, then Anastasia
picked up her books, and Corinne tucked her notepad under her arm.

   "Can I go to lunch, Miss, please?"

   I was so flabbergasted, I told her to run along.

   "What came over you, Cee?"

   "Shan?  Came over me?  What do you mean?"

   "You and Anastasia.  You were snogging.  Really going at it.  You were
making me wet just watching you."

   "Oh, Shan!  It's going to be so much fun working with you!  You've got
the most amazing sense of humour!  I know you'll be just as much fun in b
..."

   She stopped herself just in time, but far too late.









   Chapter 26:- Turn On



   What was going on?  Corinne was subdued at lunchtime, perhaps beginning
to wonder if I had heard her embarrassing almost-statement.  Or was she
thinking about the ridiculous accusation I had made about her snogging
Anastasia.  Was she recalling the moment we had shared in her bedroom.

   But what *had* caused Anastasia to virtually overpower Darren and sit on
his face.  Not for the first time, I blessed the First Form's inability to
grasp the first principles of sexual intercourse.  If a girl as determined
as Anastasia had read the manual before attacking Darren, she would have
been in very real danger of being split in two.  Mercifully, the only
damage was to the bewildered Darren's nose, and a broken test tube.  Which
I was going to have to explain to Moggie.

   "All ready for the Fourth Form, Cee?"

   "Yeah, fine," she replied, her gaze lowered to her plate.  Not the right
time to press her for information.  We finished our coffee and wandered off
to the Fourth Form classroom.  "What have they got?" she asked.

   "Birth Control, with Cindy Doubleday.  She brings some of her kids in so
they can be fed during the day."

   "How many's she got?" Corinne's curiousity was aroused.

   "I always lose count.  About nine, and another due in the Spring."

   "Golly!  She knows her subject, doesn't she.  When did she start?"

   "Cindy's a twin, her sister's got nine more of her own.  They're the
same age as me, but they've cheated a bit, all of the children are twins
and triplets."

   "Even so ...!" We paused outside the classroom door, while Corinne
studied her list.  "Any support and mobility cases in here?" She ran her
finger down the list, stopping next to Xanthe Elphinstone's name.  "Another
of the Elphinstone girls, I see."

   I leaned closer to scan the list myself and pointed to Anna-Maria
Oxberry.  My nostrils were full of the scent of Corinne, of her hair, her
light, fresh fragrance.  Mischievously, I let my fingers trail lightly
across her wrist as I showed her Anna-Maria's details.  Corinne tensed
slightly.

   "Gosh!  I must have missed that one somehow.  Practically a wheelbarrow
case, isn't she?" Her voice began to quaver slightly, and I rested my
fingers lightly on her wrist.  I could feel her pulse.  "Shan!" she
whispered.  "Yes!" She began to rub herself against me.

   "Cee, stop it!  You're driving me mad, darling!"

   "Come on, then.  Do it to me!  Kiss me all over.  Suck my nipples, lick
me down here!" She turned and threw her arms round my neck, then as I
thrust my hips forward to press myself against her, she seemed to lose all
interest.  She bent down to pick up her book, and I watched her breast
flatten itself around her leg.  "Okay," she said brightly.  "Ready when you
are." She put her hand on the door handle.



   **********

   "Afternoon, Cindy."

   "It's Melanie," muttered the twin coldly.  I'm sure she still blamed me
for her spraying incident at the Christmas party.

   "Of course, sorry.  A trick of the light.  I'd like to introduce Corinne
Meadowlark, our new member of the teaching staff, who is going to be the
Support and Mobility Mistress.  If you could spare five minutes of your
valuable time, we'd just like the girls to meet her, so they'll know who
she is."

   Melanie shrugged.  "Go ahead.  I'm paid by the session anyway."

   I made a mental note to speak to Moggie about Melanie's attitude.  "Miss
Meadowlark will be meeting you officially in a few days, but if any of you
have any Support and Mobility questions ...?"

   Anna-Maria put her hand up.  Corinne recognised her straight away from
her description.  "Anna-Maria, isn't it?"

   The big girl looked somehow startled and pleased at the same time. 
"Yes, Miss.  Will you be in charge of allocating wheelbarrows, Miss?"

   "I'll be making recommendations, although Miss Thunderbolt will have the
final say.  Wheelbarrows cost money, just like computers and exercise
books."

   "Good, Miss.  Only I want one.  I'm suffering from stress, Miss."

   "I think we all are, Anna-Maria.  But believe me, I have the interests
of the bigger-breasted girls very close to my heart." Corinne made a note
in her book and Anna-Maria sat down.  "Any more questions, anyone?  Thanks
for your time, Melanie.  It's a pleasure to meet you."

   "Thanks, I'm sure,", said Melanie, gruffly and she resumed her
demonstration of fitting a condom to the handle of a cricket bat, although
what useful purpose that would serve, I had no idea.



   **********

   The Fifth Form was down to be learning about Long Term Relationships
from Smegs.  Corinne and I slipped into the room, where Smegs was sprawled
in her chair in a jumble of arms, legs and breasts.  A vigorous argument
was in progress, but Smegs put a finger to her lips and motioned us to come
closer and wait.

   One girl was in a crumpled heap on the floor.  Another was screaming and
yelling at a third, who was saying very little at all, just trying
occasionally to get a word in edgeways.  Watching them was a camcorder on a
tripod, and a classroom full of enthralled girls.

   From the tirade that was going on, we gathered that the taller, dark
haired girl had come home early from the office and discovered the slender
blonde girl in bed with the body that now lay at their feet, trying its
best not to sneeze.  The little blonde eventually managed a complete
sentence.

   "You didn't need to kill him," she claimed, confusingly.  The corpse
lost its battle and sneezed three times.  The wronged husband tried to get
back into his harangue, but cracked up.  So did his wife and her late
lover.

   "Okay, girls, that was fine," called Smegs, unwinding her limbs from the
chair with coltish grace.  Corinne watched her intently as she strolled
down to the front of the class.  "Switch off the camera, Yolanda, please,"
Megan ordered without even glancing at the 'husband'.  The dark-haired girl
did as she was told, her adoring gaze never leaving Smegs's face.  This was
a girl with one serious crush on her teacher.

   "Now, before we press on and watch the playback, let me introduce Miss
Meadowlark, our new Support and Mobility Mistress." She spoke with quiet
authority, and I realised again that it had been a long time since Smegs
had given me a good spanking.  She smiled at Corinne, and indicated with a
sweep of her hand that the floor was hers.  Follow that, Corinne, I
thought.

   Corinne followed it.  "St Cat's is an unusual school, you'll all agree.
The reason I'm here is to help you with any problems you may experience as
you grow into well-rounded adults.  Not the emotional problems, like this
tragic family here, but the sort of physical problems many of you are
already experiencing.  We won't detain you any longer, but take a look at
me so you'll know my face.  And anything else you may recognise as well."

   An appreciative buzz ran round the class.  Corinne bowed slightly to
them and stepped back.  Smegs was looking at Corinne with the sort of light
in her eye that I knew well.  Smegs fancied taking Corinne to bed, I
realised, and felt unaccountably jealous.  Unaccountably?



   **********

   "Well, just the Sixth Form, now.  They're combining on a project at the
moment, making a film about the problems a girl experiences when her
breasts grow."

   "They could have asked me about those.  I'd still be telling them in six
months time.  Who's the star?"

   "Abi, she's a Third Former.  Funny thing.  The intention had been for
her to wear an artificial pair of breasts that were confiscated from a past
student.  But while were filming, Abi's breasts miraculously grew.  About
three times in quick succession!"

   "Naturally?"

   "Probably not.  I suspect the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group, but
we'll never be able to pin it on them without proof.  The film is produced
by a couple of big-busted sluts called Pubella and Gudrun - they're on your
list - and the filming is being done by a couple of television
professionals, Martin and Bob.  Megan and I had a bit of a session with
them a while ago.  Bob's quite ...  you know!"

   "Is he really?" Corinne opened her eyes wide.  "I'd better watch out,
then." I was beginning to wonder if Corinne liked boys at all.

   "I suppose, if they're shooting, there's not a lot we can do without
interrupting things.  Let's just play it by ear and I'll introduce you here
and there.  Some of the Sixth Form girls are gigantic, they all had
chemical enhancement en masse when they were Juniors.  Smegs did it to
them. She got mad at the school for some reason.  Several of them are up
around the magic three figures."

   "They're only magic if you count in inches.  If we were using
centimetres, the magic three figures would only be about a forty inch bust.
That's practically the entire school."

   What a strange girl Corinne is, sometimes.

   "What was it about?"

   That came after fully two minutes of silence.  "Sorry, what was what
about?"

   "You said Megan got mad."

   "I can't really remember.  But she enlarged the Drama Group, the Hockey,
the Swimming and the Netball teams, this was when used to have sports here.
That was when the dairy first started up."

   We slipped into the room which had been fitted out with dozens of
lights. Girls bustled around with reflectors, sheets of polystyrene and
long poles.  They looked horribly busy and efficient, and some of them were
worryingly overdeveloped.  "Plenty of candidates for you in the Sixth," I
whispered.  "Let's watch from here.  Look, that's Bob, with the headphones
on!" But Corinne was watching the busty girls.

   "Quiet please, everyone," Pubella sang out, "we're going for a take."

   Abi, diminutive in two dimensions, but making up for that spectacularly
in the third, flounced across the set and flopped down into a seat behind a
desk.  It was obviously not going too well, and Abi was being a bit of a
prima donna.  The lights came on, the camera rolled, and Abi forgot her
lines.

   "Oh fuck it," she screamed, while everyone studied their finger nails.
"Who wrote these crapping lines, anyway?"

   "Take five, everyone!" Pubella stormed off, yelling.  Gudrun burst into
tears and buried her face in her hands.  Martin and Bob wandered over to
us, looking quite calm.

   "How's it going?"

   "Not too bad at all.  Going well, in fact.  Who's this?"

   "This is Corinne Meadowlark.  She's our new Support and Mobility
Mistress.  Corinne: Martin, and Bob."

   "Hi, Corinne!"

   "Hi!" She sounded unenthusiastic.

   Martin beamed at her.  "Another one of these special St Cat's girls. 
Where do you find them, Shan?"

   "We didn't.  Cee found us."

   "Cee?  That's a nice name.  A bit bigger than a 'C', though." Bob
grinned at her and she froze him with a glance.  She wasn't enjoying
herself.

   "Not much we can do in here, Cee.  You want to go back over to the room
and we'll sort out your notes?"

   "Yeah, okay."

   "See you, Bob, Mar, give us a call before you finish, we'll have a
drink, right?"

   "Look forward to it, Shan.  See you, Cee!"



   **********

   "Shan, I've been an absolute bitch, I'm sorry!"

   "What's up, Cee?  You haven't been very happy since lunchtime.  Is it
me?"

   "No, it's me!  I'm a miserable cow." We crossed the quad in silence and
went up the stairs to her room.  "I'll put the kettle on," she said,
wearily.  I heard her pottering about in the kitchen, while I looked out of
the window.  I've heard when people do that it that means they want to
escape.  Corinne slumped on the bed, her face in her hands.

   "What's the matter.  You look totally pissed off."

   "I don't know.  Before lunch, I seemed to get the strange feeling that I
wanted to grab you and tear all your clothes off.  Then I wanted to grab
young Anastasia.  And I even felt like raping you I the corridor outside
one of the classrooms!  It was weird.  I've never felt like that before."

   "Corinne, listen.  You've got to believe this.  You *did* grab me, you
*did* snog Anastasia, and you *did* try to rape me outside the classroom!
Unfortunately, you failed.  But you mean you can't remember doing it?"

   "No, of course not.  I wanted to, sure, but ..."

   "I think something's happened, something to do with New Love.  Look at
Anastasia.  You put your hand on her forehead, and she came on to you like
a ...  well, like ME!  Then you started eating each other's tongues.  You
did!" I insisted when she shook her head in disbelief.  I sat down beside
her, and took her hand.  "Now!  Hold on a minute.  I'm going to try
something."

   The spot on her wrist was still there, a pinkish area like a birthmark.
Gently, I held her hand, then placed my fingertips on the pink mark.  She
tensed, her shoulders stiffened.  I stroked her wrist and she began to rub
herself against me.  I raised her hand and kissed the mark and she
practically took off.

   "Shan, darling!  Love me, please!  NOW!"

   "Cee!  Yes!  Come to Shan.  Let me help you with your blouse.  Here!"
The little black bow came off, and she began to tear at the buttons of her
blouse.  I helped her, guiding her fumbling little fingers until the blouse
was off and lying on the floor in the corner of the room.

   Then I let go of her wrist.

   "Shan!  What's happening?  Where's my blouse?  It's over there!" and she
crossed her arms over her breasts, which I was staring at as they wobbled
inside the straining cups of that giant black bra.

   "Well, you believe me now?  Look at the clock and give me your hand."
The second hand ticked round to the minute.  "See, it's exactly twenty
three minutes past." I kissed her wrist again, giving it the full Shan
treatment.  "Cee, take your skirt off.  I need to feel your lovely firm
bottom ..."

   "Shan, yes, help me with it.  Help, it's too tight for just ickle me,
poor lickle Cee can't manage on her own ..." Her skirt came off and I
helped her to step out of it before letting her wrist go and watching her
closely.  "And it's now thirty seconds later," I announced, like a speaking
clock.

   This time, Corinne could be in no doubt.  Her skirt was over in the
corner with her blouse.  Unfortunately, I was in no condition to explain
rationally what had happened.  Corinne was standing before me in her black
blouse and silk panties.  I folded her in my arms.  Corinne was puzzled,
confused, but she was almost as turned on as I was by this time.  "Shan. 
Be gentle, please, Shan!"

   Good grief.  Just what else did she *think* I was going to be?









   Chapter 27:- Interruptus



   "Who's that?"

   The knock came again.  "Corinne, you at home?"

   Smegs!

   "Megan?" Corinne, turned to stone at the sound of the knock on the door,
turned to overcooked spaghetti.  She started to go to the door.  "I can't
answer it like this!" she hissed.  I didn't really see why not.  She was
still comparatively decent in her bra and panties.  In fact, dressed like
that, she was making my head spin.  Meanwhile, the old spleen was doing its
usual somersaults.  And I was still fully dressed, in white shirt; a rather
nice dark grey woollen skirt with pleats which tended to disguise any
tendency to increased fullness around my hips; my leggings and flat shoes,
the faithful ScatBra and the wettest pair of panties you ever imagined. 
That's if you ever imagine wet panties.  I can't think why anyone would
want to.

   I was sitting calmly on Corinne's bed, with my insides melting, watching
the panic-stricken Corinne trying to climb into her skirt.  Even inside
that industrial-strength bra, there were so many things going on, I
couldn't keep track.  "Won't be a minute, Megan, I'm just changing!"

   I could imagine Smegs outside the door, wondering why that should
prevent Corinne letting her in.  We're all women, right?  She would be
pacing up and down in that long-limbed way of hers.  She'd knock again in a
minute.

   She knocked again.  "Corinne!  I'll be down in my room.  Give me a
shout."

   "Okay, Megan.  Won't be a minute." She was actually shaking.  The
half-moon shaped curves of her breasts where they overflowed the bra cups
were quivering independently of each other.  She picked up her blouse and
struggled to get into it.  It was inside out.

   "Here you are, darling." I helped her.  She was about as co-ordinated as
a rag doll, but I got her more or less tucked away inside her blouse. 
Never mind the black tie thing.  Shoes!  "Off you go!" I sent her on her
way with a warm little kiss on her soft, cool cheek, which she appeared not
even to notice, then I made my way through the tiny kitchen into my room
and flopped on to the bed.  I had an attack of the shivers.  What the hell,
it had only been Smegs at the door.  What was the matter with me?

   I began to wonder what Smegs wanted Corinne for.  *Began* to wonder?  To
put it another way, I finally allowed myself to think about it.  Was Smegs
feeling horny?  Did she fancy a heated session with Corinne before her
evening meal.  What about me?  Where did Smegs think I was all this time?
She hadn't asked.  Did she even care?  I knew this feeling that was coming
on.  I was wretchedly unhappy, and lonely and insecure.  Not five minutes
before, I had been gazing on a vision of incredible voluptuousness, and she
was begging me to take her, and to be gentle while I was about it.  Five
minutes, and the world had come crashing down, the way it had a habit of
doing.

   It was cold in here.  Freezing.  It always was a chilly room, not like
Corinne's cosy nest next door.  Through that door, there.  "Oh, FUCK you,
world!" I wriggled beneath the duvet, where it was slightly less arctic,
and tried to cry.  Ten seconds later, I wriggled out again, ripped off my
leggings then my type A stained knickers and threw them at the wall; then
crawled back into my dank pit again.  I watched my knickers slowly unpeel
themselves from the dressing table mirror and flop heavily into the clutter
of make-up pots and students' exercise books, leaving a steamy patch behind
them.  I tried crying again, but it didn't work.

   All I could do was lie there, on my back, and feel empty.



   **********

   "Shan, are you still in?" The door handle rattled.  It was the kitchen
door handle, so someone was trying to get into my room from Corinne's. 
"Come on, Shan!"

   Had I been asleep?  I sat up, feeling sick, and ran my tongue
experimentally around the inside of my mouth.  Yes, I decided, I had been
asleep, not doubt about it.  "Hello?  Who's that?" my voice sounded weak
and watery, even to myself.

   "Are you all right?" Corinne looked up at me anxiously as I opened the
door a few inches and peered at her.  She didn't seem to have altered much
as a result of what could have been several hours of furious love-making in
my bestest friend's well-used double bed.  "Oh, Shan, I'm sorry, I woke you
up!  You should've said you were asleep." Yes, I suppose I should, really.
Thoughtless of me.

   "Coming for a bite to eat?  I'm starving." I retreated into my room and
she followed me in, looking round.  She noticed the rumpled bed.  "You were
asleep, weren't you.  It's half past five.  Megan kept me nearly half an
hour with those bloody forms."

   "Which forms?" I was prowling round, looking for a pair of shoes or
something.

   "Are these what you're looking for?" Corinne picked up my knickers,
realising her mistake instantly.  She held them between thumb and finger,
looking embarrassed.

   "No, I'll get a clean pair."

   "What shall I do with these?"

   "It's all right, leave them there."

   "I can't leave them on these books, they're students' work.  There's a
big wet splotch on the top one already." She searched for somewhere
suitable and finally dropped them on the bare floor by the doorway.  "What
happened, did you have an unfortunate accident in them?"

   "You could say that, I suppose." Was she being deliberately insensitive,
or just plain cruel?  I found another pair and wriggled them up my thighs.
Corinne watched in a detached manner as I hoisted my skirt and settled the
crotch of the panties into some kind of position where they weren't being
entirely gobbled up.  She seemed to be about to say something, but changed
her mind.

   "Which forms?" I asked again, absently sniffing the crotch of my
leggings.  They smelled surprisingly pure, so I decided to let them have a
few more hours wear.

   "What?  Oh, something to do with my contract.  Some forms I should have
filled in at the interview.  Miss Thunderbolt gave them to Megan for me to
sign.  In about sixteen places, in triplicate.  I've got galloping RSI
now." She flexed her fingers and rubbed her wrist with a strange expression
on her face.  Then she shook her head.  "All ready, then?

   "Just about.  But Corinne?  What were we doing when Smegs knocked on the
door?"

   "I was changing.  I didn't answer the door because my zipper stuck."

   "That's what you told Smegs." It was a statement, not a question.

   "'Course!  That's what happened, isn't it?"

   "You were changing.  But you're wearing the same clothes as you were
earlier."

   "The same skirt.  But I changed my panties." She blushed a little. 
"That's what I meant when I said I was changing."

   "You had to take your skirt off to change your panties?"

   "What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?  What's the matter, Shan?"
Corinne looked troubled, her eyes searching mine.  Lovely, lovely blue
eyes.

   "Sorry!" I touched her shoulder, close to the flesh of her neck.  I
could feel the muscles, tense and almost rippling.  "I'm all ready, let's
go."



   **********

   It was starting to snow a bit when we came out of the restaurant.  What
the weather men call a wintry shower.

   "I could use a cup of tea after that," said Corinne.  "A memorable
experience, those fishcakes."

   We passed the entrance to the main classsroom block.  There was a light
on in the lab.

   "I've just got to collect something from the lab.  Do you want to go on
up to the room?  Shove the kettle on.  I'll be up in a couple of minutes.
No sugar in mine!"

   The First Form Sexual Chemistry Group was working overtime.  They
sometimes did, when there was an experiment that needed longer than the
usual time.  One group was working, under the nervous supervision of the
disco lad.  It was the New Love Group.

   "Hi, Suzanne, how's it going?"

   "Just finished, Miss.  Then we'll be letting it cool overnight and
bottling it tomorrow." The girls were gathering up their belongings and
stuffing their bags with papers.  They shuffled their feet, anxious to get
away.

   "Excellent.  Well done!  Off you go, and enjoy your evening."

   The girls brightened up instantly, realising that I wasn't going to keep
them hanging around.  "Thanks, Miss!  See you tomorrow."

   "Night, Pan, Suze.  Night, Anastasia.  Careful with your barrow, Shona,
it's started to snow out there." I watched them bouncing and wobbling out
of the door.  Anastasia held the door for Shona, and I heard them giggling
as they helped Shona load her barrow.

   There was a flask, sealed with a stopper, and a beaker covered with
plastic cling film.  A luminous green froth covered the inch or so of
liquid inside.  Quickly, I stripped off the film, found one of those flat
plastic bags with a sort of zipper seal at the top, and scraped about a
teaspoonful of the froth into the bag.  I replace the cling film on the
beaker, dropped the plastic bag in my skirt pocket, and took a quick look
around.  All clean and tidy.  I shouted goodnight to the disco lad, who
seemed relieved to be able to get away to whatever he did with himself in
the evenings.

   Now for that cup of tea.



   **********

   The bedside lamp was on, and a portable radio was playing.

   "Pour your own cup, Shan, I didn't know how long you were going to be."
I came back into the bedroom, where Corinne was swaying slightly,
presumably to the music.

   "I love this one," she said, singing a few words.  "Do you like this
band?  A bit teeny-ish, but that lead singer!  Yow!"

   "Oh, yes.  Very nice.  As far as I was aware, it wasn't God Save the
Queen.  Corinne attempted a more elaborate step but admitted defeat and had
to retire, steadying her rebounding breasts with both hands.  She picked up
her mug and drained it in one gulp.

   "Can I tell you the rest of my life story?  I'd only reached the school
bus, hadn't I?"

   "It's as good a time as any." Perhaps it would give me the opportunity I
needed.  Carefully, I eased the plastic bag from my pocket.  The bag was
quite thick plastic, and flat.  The luminous green froth had squeezed up to
one end, but it was still luminous green, and still frothy.  I made myself
comfortable on the bed, and she joined me in the story-telling position, on
my left, close enough to feel the warmth of her and smell that fragrance.
No doubt she could smell mine, which was possibly a little more ...  well
...  sort of animal,really.

   "Where was I?"

   "School bus.  Twenty points a feel."

   She wriggled her bottom, getting comfortable.  "Touch me, Shan!"

   "What?  Where?"

   "Just anywhere.  Put your arm around me.  Mmm, that's nice." Her fingers
touched my hand softly and I felt her hair brushing against the side of my
face.  "Right, school bus.  Yeah!  Well, there were two boys who were
always together, who didn't join in trying to grab me.  One was quiet, but
really dishy, so my Mum always reckoned.  I fancied him.  The other one was
a right smarmy dick.  The other girls all fancied him, but he was so yuck!
Smooth, all the chat, the lot.  But as my favourite one wasn't interested,
I had to sort of play along with smarmy 'cos that was the only way to get
to talk to the other one.  Not that he ever said much, but ..."

   Corinne was getting nicely into her story.  Holding her a little more
tightly round her shoulders, I gave her a reassuring squeeze.  With my
right hand, I found the plastic bag on the bed, opened the top and slipped
a finger inside.  A quick glance confirmed it was glistening with green
foam.

   "...  and he said did I want to go to the pictures with him, and I said,
'what, just the two of us?' and he asked if my granny wanted to come as
well, so I supposed he meant yes, just the two of us.  So anyway, I said I
would, 'cos I might get the chance to ask him about James, the one I really
fancied ..."

   Keep going, Corinne!  She had crossed one leg over the other, and there
was a glimpse of the back of her knee, the left one.  I rubbed my own knee,
and as she came to one of the highlights of the story, I sneaked my finger
across and wiped the froth on the soft skin between the tendons.

   "Ow!" She stopped her narrative.  I gave the froth a rub, making it
disappear into the skin.  "What are you doing?"

   "Sorry, I just saw it and I wanted to touch it."

   "You'd better not touch me there, of all places.  I go *wild* if anyone
touches the back of my knees!"

   "What, you mean ...  here?"

   "Eeeek!" She jumped as if I had poked her with an electric cattle prod.
"Wow, Shan!" Her hand settled on my thigh and gripped.  "I told you. 
That's my most sensitive spot, apart from my boobs.  Touch me there again
and I'll never get this story told."

   Shit!  What a waste.  I'd have to find another bit of bare skin to try
it out.  "Sorry, go on.  You were in the back row."

   "Oh, you *were* listening.  Anyway, as soon as we'd sat down, his arm
was round the back of my seat, and he grabbed my shoulder and squeezed me
so I was right over on top of him, then his other arm came round my front.
Like this, he was." She demonstrated the position, but didn't quite touch
my breasts.  Then his other hand, the one that was ..."

   "That's three hands, Cee!"

   "No, listen.  The one round my shoulder, that one slid down and started
stroking the outside of my breast." Her voice had gone a bit funny.

   "Show me how." She did, touching me briefly.  Too briefly.

   "You mean, a bit like this?"

   "A bit," she said, uncomfortably.

   "And meanwhile, his other hand was ...  here?"

   "Yes.  Well, further over."

   "Here?"

   "Ye-es...!"

   "Or here!"

   "Shan, please.  Careful."

   "You're all tense, Cee.  Here." I stroked her hair again, feeling her
relaxing slowly.  Her head rested on my shoulder.

   "That feels so nice, Shan.  All sort of secure and ...  comfy!" She
snuggled up closer.  Our breasts were tending to get in the way of each
other.  And with one finger still smeared with the magic green froth, I
couldn't really get to grips with Corinne.

   "Let's try another position.  You sit on the floor between my feet,
carry on with the story, and I'll rub your neck.  It helps!" She grunted
and struggled into a sitting position, leaning back against me until she
realised that she had rested her head on my breasts.  She sat forward
again. I checked that I still had a finger-full of froth.  Everything was
ready.  She'd reached the point where she stormed out of the cinema and
tried to catch the bus home, when I blew softly in her ear.

   "Oooh, Shan!" The voice was getting weaker, more unsteady, and her head
tilted over to one side.  My fingers found the tense muscles at the side of
her neck, and I rubbed gently there.

   "There, is that getting better?"

   "Shan!  Darling!" The stuff worked!  It was working.  Three cheers for
the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group!  "Undress me, now!  Make me naked!"
Gosh!  An extra strong batch, or what?

   I carried on rubbing gently, and Corinne arched herself back against me,
rubbing her body against my knees.  "Please," she whispered urgently.  Rub,
rub, stroke, stroke.  "Please!" she squealed, and crawled away across the
floor.  Then swivelling round, she undid all the buttons on her blouse with
a single tug.  Here we were again.  Like an old friend, the black bra
filled my vision.  Leaning forward, I stroked her wrist and she scooted
over to me on her bottom, wobbling extravagantly.  Time for another rub on
the neck, and she practically climbed into my lap.  Not easy with that lot
between us, but Corinne was pretty determined.  It was time to stand up.

   Her skirt came off much more easily this time, and her blouse slipped
down her arms.  I took her limply unresisting body in my arms and held her
gently, as if she was about to break.  Our lips met, and she didn't hold
back.  Nor, for that matter, did I.

   "I'm going to have to get undressed, Cee!"

   Obliging girl, she lent a hand.  In no time, we were similarly dressed,
or undressed, in our bras and pants.









   Part X








Chapter28:- A Bit Of A Heavy Session



   I looked at hers, and she looked at mine.  Corinne swallowed noisily. 
This was the moment of truth.  I reached behind me and released the band of
my ScatBra.

   "Gosh, is that velcro?" she asked in a faint voice.  "Is it strong
enough?"

   "It's special heavy duty velcro.  And yes, it's strong enough!" One at a
time, the shoulder straps slid down my upper arms.  Although I was keeping
my arms tight against my sides, not letting the bra fall, the vast weight
of my tits was dragging it down.  There was nothing I could do to stop it.
At last, I let go of the bra and slipped my right arm beneath my breasts as
they began to cascade mightily downwards.  I managed to slow their fall
slightly, and when I dropped the bra to the floor, they fell the last nine
inches or so, swaying massively and bouncing against my thighs.

   "Oh, Shan.  You're magnificent!  I've never seen anything like them. 
Corinne took a step closer and rested her hand against the side of my
breast.  The tiny fingers pressed ever so slightly inwards and her mouth
opened.  "They're so soft, yet so firm, somehow!  And SO dangly!"

   "Your turn, Cee!"

   "I suppose so."

   "No, wait.  Let me take your panties off.  I got down on the floor in
front of her, my breasts flopping to the carpet in front of me.  From here,
her face was invisible, but I heard her moan softly as I ran both hands
round behind her and cupped her buttocks through the cool silk.  I squeezed
gently and her breath hissed through her teeth.

   "Take them off, Shan!"

   I hooked my thumbs inside the elastic and began to ease them down across
the swell of her bottom.  She parted her feet a little, and bent one knee
in a delightfully innocent way to release the crotch of her knickers where
they were trapped between her legs.  They made the faintest of whispering
sounds as they slid down her shapely legs.  Shapely, yet strong.  They had
been carrying a huge load for a number of years.  She stepped out of them
and my hands ran back up her legs, across the ankles, the calves, the back
of her knees!

   "Chauntaille!"

   "Corinne!"

   It was very much a time for full names.  It was a wonder we hadn't
addressed each other as Chauntaille Gruntworthy and Corinne Meadowlark! 
She was quivering like a great big vibrator as I rested my fingers in the
indented backs of her knees.  Then I let one hand roam up the back of her
thigh, and down again while the other one went for a walk as well.  Higher,
higher, until she parted her thighs enough to let one of my hands between
her thighs.  They felt hot and damp.  Damp?

   There!  I let my eyes feast on her plump pussy for the first time.  From
down here I had a perfect view.  It was sparsely furred with silky light
brown fur.  The merest hint of an opening in her lips now that her legs
were lightly apart.  And trickling down the cleft of those lips, a single
pearl-like drop of purest nectar.

   I intercepted it with my tongue before it could reach freedom and course
down her inner thigh like its predecessor.  It was almost sweet.  How
different from Smegs Corinne was!  Smegs's pubic hair was a dirty blonde
colour, and coarse by comparison.  Smegs's pussy-lips were rude and
ravaged-looking.  And Smegs was, to put it delicately, more reminiscent of
a fish-market round about closing time.  Corinne was like a fresh seaside
morning, an ocean breeze.

   Another drip trickled on to my tongue.  And another, and Corinne began
to moan again as I licked my way up and down her slit, until there was no
way of knowing if it was my tongue making her so wet, or her own juices.  I
felt her hands pressing my face closer to her, and my nose made contact
with the very top of her lovely opening, and she sighed sharply and began
to buck her hips.  I needed to cup her buttocks and grip her between my
hands and my face until she settled down.

   "Cee, darling!" I began to stand up.  It is hard enough for me to do at
the best of times.  Now, my knees were turned to water by the closeness of
this wonderful girl.  "Take my pants off," I ordered, or pleaded, I'm not
sure which it was.  "Wait ..." I squeaked; she was fumbling between my
breasts for the elastic top of my panties.  "Wait, I'll have to turn round,
you'll never find them behind my breasts!"

   From behind, her capable fingers quickly peeled them down.  They were so
wet, they rolled themselves off rather than sliding down in a well-behaved
Corinne-like manner, and I felt the crisp lace of her bra rub against my
bottom as she got down on the floor behind me.

   "Oh, Shan!  What a sight!"

   Most people said something like that on first acquaintance with my
vagina and its immediate surroundings.  From Corinne's lips, it sounded
like a love-poem.  I turned round and gave her the front view, and felt my
breasts hauled apart and her fingers exploring me busily.  Well, there's
such a lot to see down there: so many places to visit.  She was doing her
best to visit them all!  I rested my hands on her shoulders, between her
neck and the indentations where her bra straps dug into her flesh.  Even as
wide as the straps were, they were still trying to slice into her like
cheese cutters.  I found her brand new erogenous zone and rubbed gently.  A
gratifying response came from down below, and my breasts were being tossed
and tumbled as Corinne's hands worked even more furiously.  I felt several
fingers now inside.

   She had enough to occupy her attention for a while, so I reached down
her back and explored her bra strap.  It was hugely wide, and her
conservative designer hadn't yet discovered the joys of velcro.  One by
one, I wrestled the hooks undone, and although I felt her pause for a
moment, and a tension came into her body, she resumed her attentions when I
softly stroked her neck again.  The last hook was free, and the bra, under
insurmountable stress, pulled away from her body, allowing her breasts to
slip out of the undersides of the cups and plunge down.  The bra hung
uselessly by its shoulder straps.

   Corinne resisted as I grasped her beneath the armpits and pulled her to
her feet.  "No!  I want to play down here," she squeaked like a petulant
child, but I carried on lifting her up until she was upright and looking
pleadingly into up my eyes.  "Please, Shannie!  Pleeeease!"

   I let go of her and she instantly tried to get between my breasts again,
but I took half a pace back and she had to straighten up.  This time, she
stood a couple of feet in front of me, and a deep blush spread over her
face as I took in the full details of her magnificent body.

   Under their vast weight, her breasts plunged well past her navel,
although not quite far enough down to reach her pubic hair.  The nipples,
considerably larger than mine, were erect, and were aiming themselves at a
point on the floor perhaps six feet in front of her.  From what I could see
of her areolae, they, too were bigger than mine, possibly more than four or
five inches, and irregularly shaped, not puffy like my halved-apples.

   Gradually, she allowed her eyes to rest on mine, although she still
looked ...  ashamed, was it?

   "You have the most beautiful body I ever saw," I told her, and I meant
it.  "Your breasts ..."

   "No!" She shook her head.  "No, they're not!"

   "...  your breasts are magnificent!"

   "They're too big," she insisted.  "Everyone says so!"

   "I say they're beautiful.  The finest breasts in the whole of St Cat's!
And trust me, Cee ..."

   "No, I ..."

   "Cee, we really *know* about breasts here!"

   Her eyes fell for a moment, and she gave an involuntary shudder. 
"Shannie!"

   "Yes, darling!" I hoped I knew what was coming.

   "Fuck me, please!"

   It's always pleasant to be proved right!



   **********

   "Shannie?"

   "Yes, Cee?"

   She was kneeling astride my stomach.  I could feel her wetness on my
tummy.  My breasts were piled up on either side of my hips: hers were
dangling down on my chest in my widely spread cleavage.  Her hair brushed
against my body.  So did her amazing nipples.  I captured one and suckled
on it, and she helped feed it into my mouth with both hands.

   "Shannie!" Her voice rose to a squeak as I sucked harder on her, feeling
the nipple filling my mouth.

   "Nobody called me Shannie before."

   "I will, from now on, because you're so special to me."

   "Oh, Cee!" My mind went blank as what could well have been another
orgasm began to build in my overheated loins.  Cee rubbed her bottom slowly
back and forth, up and down against me.  She farted and I felt it against
my belly.

   "Oops!" Her face went bright red and a hand went to cover her mouth. 
"Sorry!  Oh, my God!"

   "You terrible girl, doing that when I can't escape.  Come here, kiss me
again!" Her breasts squashed as she bent forward and we giggled into each
other's mouths when our lips met, our tongues leading the way.  There was
even a minor clash of teeth.  "You're really not very good at this sort of
thing, are you!"

   "Teach me, Miss!" She sat back, her hair falling across her face.  She
brushed it away, and pouted at me, then reached down and clutched at one of
my breasts.

   "What are you trying to do with that?" I asked her.

   "I wanna suck yours, Shannie!" She sounded like a great big baby.

   "You'll never be able to pick it up on your own," I said as she
struggled with it.  With her own huge floppers in the way, she could only
use one hand.  She slipped it underneath and grunted as she tried to lift
it.  It kept rolling off.  "Ouch, Cee!"

   It took both my hands and one of hers to get it up to her mouth. 
"Little teensy-weensy nipples, Shannie!  Would-ums like gweat *big* nipples
like Cee?  Cee make dem gwow!" She sucked furiously, and perhaps even
succeeded a bit.

   I even did the same for her.  Time for a change of position, I thought,
Cee was too much in control here!  It took several minutes of hip-bucking
and thrusting before the giggling girl was unseated, and lay beside me on
the bed.

   "What Shannie gonna do to Cee?" She put a thumb in her mouth.  Having
such vast breasts makes me a bit slow-moving in bedroom situations, but Cee
was pretty big, too, as well as much slimmer, so her breasts were
surprisingly close to mine in bulk and awkwardness.  So, like mating
hippopotami, we changed position: her underneath, with me tasting the
delights of her seafood special; while I lowered my meaty rump over her
face.

   "What Shannie doing?"

   "Shannie gonna fart," I threatened, and heard a nervous laugh from
somewhere between my thighs.  Then there was an inexperienced but
rapidly-learning tongue lapping at me, and I abandoned the baby talk and
began to howl until the windows shook!



   **********

   "Shannie!" It was much later.

   Yes, Cee?"

   Her voice was serious.  "You know I've got to be measured tomorrow? 
Couldn't *you* do it, tonight?"

   That sounded like a simply splendid idea.  We were lying side by side,
recovering, touching each other here and there, and occasionally shuddering
with delight.

   "Why not?  We don't need anyone else, just us."

   "Let's do it now then!"

   "Do what, Cee?"

   She punched me playfully.  "Measure Cee first.  We'll do it later!" And
her sweet mouth settled on mine again.

   "C'mon, then!" I half-rolled off the bed and dragged her up.

   "Hang on," she said, "there's something stuck to your bum!"

   "What ...?"

   "Some sort of plastic bag.  Oh, yuck, it's got green stuff in it ..."

   "Yeeuch, get it off!" I swatted at it and did a little baby-elephant
dance step as the bag fell to the floor.  I trod on it.  It stuck to the
bottom of my foot.  "Oh, shit!  It's getting everywhere!" I sat down on the
bed again, my bottom landing on Cee as she failed to get out of the way.

   "What is this stuff?" She wiped some of the green froth off her thigh
and sniffed at it.  A little luminous dab appeared on the tip of her nose.
Meanwhile, I had peeled the bag off the sole of my foot and thrown it away.
That was when I found some froth on my fingers.  I wiped it off on the
first place that came to hand, my pubic hair.

   "It's New Love!"

   Corinne sat bolt upright.  You mean ...  and I got it on my thigh?" She
rubbed at it.

   "And your nose, dear!"

   "And your fat bottom!  And your foot!"

   "I wonder how long it takes for the effects to wear off?"

   "We're going to have to wait and find out, I suppose.  Meanwhile ..."

   "Yes, meanwhile," she said with a little laugh, "we're going to have to
be very careful where we touch each other, aren't we!"



   **********

   "Ouch!" Corinne wriggled.  "That tape's bloody cold!" I had extended it
round her hips, and my fingers were gently brushing her pubic hair.  My
other hand was lodged gently in the cleft of her bottom, with one finger
extended slightly downwards.  I wiggled it and she allowed a soft, wet kiss
to alight on my cheek like a butterfly.  "What is it then?" she demanded
impatiently.

   "Shan't tell you!  These measurements are for Moggie's eyes only!"

   "Shannie!  You must tell me!"

   The tape slipped up around her waist.  She jerked her stomach in when my
fingers toyed with the soft skin around her narrowest part.  "Bloody hell!"
I exclaimed.  "That can't be right!"

   "What can't be right?"

   I took the measurement again.  "Shit, it wasn't right!  It's even
smaller!"

   "Come on, Shan.  You must tell me." She grabbed the tape.  "You're not
doing my bust until you tell me!"

   "Shan't!"

   "All right.  I'll measure myself." She started to stretch the tape round
her bottom.

   "It's all right, I'll tell you!"

   She laughed, and stopped trying to see what she was doing down there.

   "Thirty-one!"

   "Golly!  Is that right?" She grinned helplessly.  "I've lost weight!"

   "And your waist is nineteen.  I made it twenty at first."

   "It *used* to be twenty-two.  Gosh, Shan!"

   I reached for the tape again.  "Let's do your bust now."

   "Shan't!"

   "Cee!" I whined.

   "Nope!"

   "Oh, come *on*, Corinne!"

   "No, I want to do *your* fat bottom first."

   "Cee," I pleaded, but she hung on to the tape.  So I let her.  My waist
was up to nearly twenty-nine, my hips nearly thirty-nine!  This was getting
beyond a joke!

   "I told you, fat bum," but she could tell I was shocked and her heart
wasn't in it.  "You can do my bust now," she said quietly, and put the tape
measure in my hand.  "I don't want to spoil your fun or anything, but it's
seventy-four!"

   "How do you normally *do* yours," I asked her.

   "With a table."

   "What, the table-top method, same as us?"

   "I rest them on the table and get someone to pass a string round them,
all the way round.  Then we measure the string with a ruler."

   "Why?"

   "Why what?"

   "Why use string and a ruler?"

   "Because we only have a six-foot tape, dummy!"

   "Not a problem at St Cat's.  Ours go up to eighteen feet on demand. 
This humble ten-footer will do for you, shrimp!" She poked her pink tongue
out at me.  It stuck out a long way, so I took time out and sucked it. 
"Right, then, on the desk top!"

   Corinne moved slowly to the desk and bent her knees.  "Ouch!  It's a
long way down!"

   Her breasts rested on top of the desk like two great oval basketballs.
Bigger than basketballs.  They stuck out more than a foot in front of her
chest.

   "Hurry up, Shannie, my knees are killing me!  Oooooargh!" She lowered
her head and rested it on the tops of her boobies.  They were some way
bigger than her head.

   "That's all right, plenty of time.  Hold that end against your right one
and pass the tape round to me." She handed me the end, with a pained
expression on her face.

   "Please, Shan!"

   "Won't keep you a moment, modom." Quick!  Round the back.  I scuttled
round behind her and applied the tape to the side of her breast until it
met up with its starting point.

   "Shan, my knees are going!" Corinne's thighs were trembling.  The poor
girl was nearly collapsing.

   "Hang on!" I left the end of the tape in her right hand and went behind
her.  "There, I've got you, let me support you ..." My hands were beneath
her shapely little bottom, and I felt the weight settle into them.  My
fingers moved around, exploring her tight cleft.  She shot almost upright
with a squeal and her breasts went into convulsions on the top of the desk.

   "Shan!  You bastard!"

   I took pity on her.  "Stand up, my pet." She did, trembling weakly, then
turned round into my arms, and our breasts became enmeshed somewhere way
down South.

   "You rotten pig," she murmured into my mouth.  "You did that on purpose.
You took advantage of me!"

   "I know.  But Cee?"

   "Yessss!  Oo!" One of my fingers had just encountered an orifice and
slipped inside.

   "You didn't let go of the tape, did you?  We don't want to have to do it
all over again, do we?"

   Actually, she had let go of the tape, and we did have to do it all over
again, but I was a lot quicker the second time.

   "There you are.  Christ, it's seventy-six!"

   "Still growing," she sighed.

   "You're just about to grow some more, Cee!"

   "Gerroff!  These things are quite big enough and heavy enough to carry
around all day, thank you very much.  I'm not as beefy as you."

   "You won't get any bigger, or heavier.  But you will gain a few inches,
I can guarantee!  Let me show you the St Cat's table top method!  Ta-da!"

   "We just did ..."

   "No we didn't.  Get on the desk and lie down with your breasts hanging
over the edge." I had to help her scramble on top of the desk, and held her
huge breasts steady as she let them dangle over the precipice.

   "Gently, Shan!  Don't drop them.  Ooooh, wheee, ouch, oh Mummy!"

   "There, that's as far as they go.  They didn't reach the floor."

   "It hurts, Shan.  They're so heavy stretched out and dangling like
this."

   "It's all right, Cee.  Just relax.  Think nice things for a few minutes
while they stretch on their own."

   She looked so vulnerable lying there on her stomach.  It was a major
decision which bit of her to eat first.  I decided to kiss her between the
legs.  She seemed to enjoy it rather, and from all the available evidence,
performed a most productive orgasm.

   Her breathing returned to something like normal.  "Now, then," I said,
"they ought to be nicely done by now.  Let's see how big you are by the
official industry standard, shall we?"









   Chapter 29:- The Feel-Good Factor



   "Gosh, you're up early!" Smegs looked at me grumpily for daring to speak
to her at this time in the morning.

   "I couldn't sleep!" She finished washing her hands and made a savage
attack on the towel dispenser.  "Some animal was keeping me awake."

   "Animal ...?" I felt myself going red.  Oh, shit!

   "Two animals, actually.  Fighting or fucking.  How was she, Shan? 
Better than me?"

   "Smegs, please ..."

   "Oh, it's all right.  There's no need.  You were obviously enjoying
yourselves, both of you!" She tried for a smile, but it was still only
seven thirty in the morning and it came out as a lop-sided snarl. 
"Shannie!"

   "I'm sorry, Megan.  We ...  I was measuring her for Moggie's records,
and ...  well, we ...  we did make love, actually."

   "Before or after?  Or both?" She saw my face.  "Both!  It's a nice way
for me to find out, being kept awake by the noise." She couldn't keep the
quaver out of her voice, and it only made me feel worse for her.

   "Smegs, don't ..."

   But that had been her big exit line.  I heard her footsteps diminish as
she went along the corridor to her room.  Halfway there, she broke into a
canter, and I was sure I heard a sound like a sob.

   I felt numb as I joined Corinne in her room.  She had just loaded
herself into her bra and was inspecting the effect in the mirror.  "Do you
think I could get my new ScatBra in this colour, or ..." She broke off,
turning round and seeing my face.  "What's the matter, Shan?" Her fingers
were soft against my cheek.

   "I just saw Smegs ..."

   "Ah.  So, she heard us last night?" I nodded, close to tears.  "We
weren't exactly being quiet, were we?  I should have warned you, I make a
bit of noise as a rule when I come.  But it's not the sort of thing you can
slip into polite conversation over lunch ..." That fell flat.  No time for
lightweight jokes.  "Come here, Shannie."

   If she hadn't used our pet name, I might just have been all right, but
when she called me that, I just dissolved.  Corinne held me until I stopped
crying, then dabbed my eyes with a tissue, and kissed them: left, right,
and once on the mouth.  I tasted the salt on her tongue.

   "Come on.  She's upset, right?" I nodded again.  It was better than
trying to talk.  "Well, it's hardly surprising.  She's had you all to
herself."

   "Apart from Villiers, and Orson, and Jeremy, and Bob."

   "Not the same, is it!" She grinned.  "You told her?"

   "She knew anyway.  She heard you calling me Shannie.  Nobody calls me
that.  But what if she runs away again?  She did on Friday, and we hadn't
even done anything then.  Now ...!"

   "What's she like?  Megan?  In bed, I mean!"

   "Big and strong.  She likes to be in charge.  Her tongue's a bit longer
than yours.  She's not as wet as you, down there." Corinne blushed and
looked uncomfortable.  She'd been embarrassed about that last night.

   "She's better than me, then."

   "No!  I mean, I didn't say that.  She's ...  oh, I don't know.  Cee?  Is
it possible to love more than one person at the same time?"

   "*You* are asking ME?  Shan, you love everybody!  You've got enough love
to spare for the whole world.  I'm just lucky enough to have been one of
them.  Especially since I know nothing about sex."

   She stood there, dejected, her shoulders drooping.  That might just have
been the weight of her breasts.  I rested my hand on the side of her neck,
and she gave a moan.  Shit!  The wrong moment to touch Corinne on one of
her new erogenous zones.

   "You'd better get dressed, darling," I said.  "Breakfast.  Build your
strength up after last night.  I love you, Cee!" That wasn't the right
thing to say, either.  Hadn't she just told me I loved the whole world?

   "I love you too, Shannie," she said, very quietly.  "What's happening to
me?" When I didn't answer, she sighed heavily like a dog trying to get
attention, and delved into her wardrobe for a shirt.  It was one of her
made-to-measure silk ones, and it made my loins swim when she fastened the
pearl buttons.  Pearl buttons.  They reminded me of that first tiny drop of
juice I had lapped from her perfect pussy, and I almost crushed her against
me.

   "Don't leave me, Cee!  I want you to stay for ever."

   Talk about two confused girls.  Three, if you include Smegs.



   **********

   "Should we make it stronger, Pan?"

   "We don't even know it works at all yet," said Suzanne.  "Anastasia
might have been nothing to do with getting froth all over her face."

   "What are you talking about," Anastasia demanded.  "What about the
froth?"

   "Oh, shut up, you!  We keep telling you, you snogged Darren and you'd
have fucked him, too, if we hadn't dragged you off him.  And you can't
remember a thing about it.  It was the froth you blew off the New Love."

   "Bollocks", said Anastasia rudely.  If a teacher had been present,
perhaps Miss Gruntworthy, she would have spoken sternly to Anastasia about
her un-St Cat's-like language.

   "Is little Anastasia upset, then?" Suzanne taunted her.  She gently
stroked Anastasia's cheek with the back of her hand.  The effect was
surprising.

   "Suze, darling", whined Anastasia.  With surprising strength and
determination, she seized Suzanne round the back of the neck and crushed
her mouth with hers.  "Darling, darling, darling!" she continued not too
creatively, then took a substantial handful of Suzanne's copious bosom in
her spare hand.  She began to mould and knead the swollen flesh with
something approaching frenzy.

   "Gerroff, yer slag!" Suzanne backed away, wiping her slobber-coated
mouth with the back of her hand.  "You've squashed me tit!  What are you
playing at?"

   "What do you mean?" Anastasia asked, puzzled.

   "We saw you, Staze," Pansy confirmed.  Anastasia looked at Shona.

   "That's right, we did.  You snogged Suze and grabbed her tit.  It looked
ever so sexy, Staze!"

   Anastasia bit her lip.  "It felt all warm and nice, then I felt nothing
after that.  Suze.  Did I hurt your tit?"

   "Yes," pouted Suzanne.

   "I'm sorry." Anastasia came closer.  Suzanne backed off some more.

   "You keep away.  That's close enough!"

   Pansy pointed out the obvious.  "That froth has made Anastasia erotic,"
she said.  "Her head is an erroneous zone.  If we put some of this froth on
somebody, it will make them fuck people as soon as they touch the part
where we put it.  All anyone has to do is to touch Staze's head, and she
eats you alive.  The only trouble is, she can't remember afterwards ..."

   "Yeah, that's rotten," said Anastasia.  "You tell me I do all these
things, but I remember none of the pleasure of it."

   "Maybe we can do something about the memory thing." Suzanne consulted
the formula.  "How about a bit more delay in it.  Stronger, with more
delay."

   "Who are you going to test it on?" said Anastasia, thrilled at the
prospect of seeing New Love in action for herself.

   "You, of course!  We know your head works.  So we just keep changing the
formula and putting it on your head until you remember what you did. 
Simple!"

   "Simple?  What about my head, getting more and more erroneous?"

   "You'll be all right, Staze!  Place yourself in our hands."



   **********

   "Who've you got first, then?"

   Corinne bit her lip.  "Third Form.  Miss Beautiful Victoria and that
lot. But I'm going to set them all the same project, but get them to look
at it from a different perspective.  'Mobility For The Gigantic-breasted
Woman', it's called.  Each form will have a different aspect to address. 
The Thirds are looking into motor vehicles."

   "Like seat belts, you mean?"

   "And steering wheels.  Design of a car that a big girl, a really big
girl can drive.  Or even get into and out of!"

   "Tell me about it.  I was getting a jeep for my twenty-first birthday,
then this lot happened.  What about the rest?"

   We had almost reached the Third Form classroom.  The Seconds will
examine Sports for the Gigantic-breasted Woman, the Firsts are getting
Office Furniture Design.  The Fourths are doing Wheelbarrows and the Fifths
will do research into Walking."

   "Walking?"

   "Weight transfer and distribution.  Arm swinging.  Balance, changing
direction, route planning to avoid collisions with stationary objects ..."

   "Okay!  Sounds great." I put my hand up to exchange a high five and she
touched it gently.

   "See you after the break down at the bra shops.  Just a formality, we've
got your measurements.  You're an SBSMLLCW5."

   "What was my bust measurement with it dangling, you never did tell me,
Shan?"

   "That's for me to know and you to wonder.  See ya later!"



   **********

   "Eighty-WHAT?" Moggie sat bolt upright and stared at the piece of paper
in her hand.

   "88-19-31.  I let her dangle for five minutes.  By the old method, she'd
only be seventy-six."

   "And I'd only be sixty-nine.  That tiny waist, too!  What's she like in
bed?  We're all dying to know."

   "In bed?" I went scarlet.

   "Oh, Shan, come on.  The whole school heard you both.  The windows were
rattling.  I never thought I'd hear anyone as loud as you ...  Shannie!"

   "I'd rather not say.  It's a private matter."

   "She's wetter than Megan, though!"

   "Who said that?"

   "You did.  You bellowed it at the top of your ten-foot lungs at two in
the morning.  And Corinne yelled 'Oh, Shannie' immediately afterwards, so
the entire school would be forgiven for thinking *she* became even wetter
round about that time!"

   "Oh, God!" I remembered the moment with crystal clarity, as well as the
puddle of Corinne's sweet juices that had collected in my navel.  I had
avoided washing my navel since, and I had every intention of not washing it
for the foreseeable future.

   "Don't worry, Shan.  The girls will think all the more highly of you. 
Although I believe Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen is having them write an essay
on 'Screaming Orgasms in All-female Societal Groupings'."



   **********

   "When have we got Miss Meadowlark?" Suzanne looked up from her books and
asked Pansy the question out of the blue.

   "Tomorrow.  Why?"

   "She's nice.  I like her." She stretched her arms above her head and her
ScatBra creaked in noisy protest.  "These things don't half give you
backache!  Mum was right when she said about huge boobs not being all
they're cracked up to be."

   "You could put some of the weights back in.  You said you took them out
because they were too heavy, but they're only there to balance your boobs
in front."

   "'Spose so, I'm loads bigger now.  That was weeks ago."

   "About two weeks, yes."

   "Do you think Miss Meadowlark has backache, too?"

   "She must do, she's huge.  I mean, you're huge, but she's huger."

   "You can't say huger, it's not a word."

   "What is it, then, if it's not a word?"

   "You've got to say something else, like ...  bigger," Suzanne ended
uncertainly.

   "But she'd only be bigger if you were only big.  You're more than just
big, you're huge.  So Miss Meadowlark is huger."

   "Oh, all right.  She's huger than me.  I bet she gets backache.  I bet
she gets them something horrible.  I'd like to help her feel better."

   "How can you make her feel better.  You going to learn massage, or
what?"

   "I was thinking of something we could spray on her back to make it feel
better."

   Pansy closed her exercise book and lay back on her bed, her head resting
on her hands.  Her breasts were smoothly rounded humps in her blouse.  Big
ones.  Not huge, but big.  "It would be nice to be able to give her
something.  How about New Love?"

   "New Love?  How's that supposed to cure backache?"

   "Well, it makes you feel great.  Didn't Anastasia say it felt great just
before she tried to rape you?  All warm and nice, she said.  All we need to
do is to make it stop working at the warm and nice stage, and before it
gets erroneous."

   "Just like that?"

   "I should have thought you could have done that, easy.  You're the
chemistry genius.  Just mess about with the delay and the speeder-upper and
the strength.  Bob's your uncle."

   "Maybe.  We could try.  We could use it on Anastasia's back.  Same as on
her head, only a different experiment.  It would save time, running two
tests on the same volunteer." She opened a notepad and began to scribble
figures.  Frowning with concentration, her little pink tongue sticking out,
she tapped away at her calculator and scribbled some more.  "Right, we'll
try it tomorrow.  And when we see Miss Meadowlark, we'll ask her how her
back feels."



   **********

   I suppose I should have noticed when the First Form Sexual Chemistry
Group tied Anastasia to a chair, gagged her and stripped off her blouse in
the laboratory, but I was helping another group a few yards away at the
time.  I did hear some noise, and a stool fell over, but I told them to
behave themselves and it went quiet after that, so I assumed everything was
all right.

   And when I saw Anastasia, crying and decidedly topless, I was far too
busy admiring her still-burgeoning breasts to ask what was going on.  They
really were growing quite beautifully.

   "Your breasts look magnificent this morning, Anastasia!"

   She blushed prettily.  "But, Miss!"

   "You'd better get dressed, though.  We don't want you catching a cold,
do we?"

   "No, Miss," she conceded hopelessly.  And she got dressed.  And I did
notice, she had a beatific smile on her face for the rest of the lesson.



   **********

   "It's working, Suze.  I feel fantastic!" Anastasia was wriggling
sensuously.  "It feels just like I'm going to have an orgasm but it never
quite happens."

   "Organism", said Pansy.  "You missed a bit out.  You called it orgasm,
it's organism."

   "No, Pan, what it feels like is an orgasm.  You know, like when you feel
as if you're fucking, like when the boy's nose rubs against your little
love bud thing ...?"

   "Yeah," said Pansy, who had almost forgotten what it felt like.

   "That's how it feels," sighed Anastasia, dreamily.  "It's felt like it
ever since I got sprayed, and that was before the morning break, two hours
ago, now!"

   "Maybe Suze does get things right every now and again.  Psst!  Look out,
here she comes!"

   The class stood up to greet their teacher.

   "Good after-NOON, Miss Meadow-LARK!"









   Chapter 30:- Come Here, Little Wet Girl



   "And I walked in, and they all stood up and chanted 'Good After-NOON
Miss Meadow-LARK'!  The little darlings."

   "I think of them that way sometimes, too," I said, with deep
uncertainty. "How did the lesson go?"

   "Not bad," said Corinne.  "I told them the subject of the project for
the term, and gave them a few ideas about Office Furniture, and how it
affects the Gigantic-breasted Woman in the Working Environment, and then we
all had a free discussion.  They're really intelligent girls, some of the
brightest I've met in the school so far."

   "Oh, yes, they're bright enough."

   "They kept asking about backache.  Funny, that.  Whatever I said, the
conversation kept coming round to backache.  It was a weird feeling.  It
seemed to be that Suzanne who was leading the discussion.  After a while,
she seemed to have taken over, and it was a discussion about Backache and
the Gigantic-breasted Woman.  Of course, she's going to be pretty enormous
herself.  Even I was never that huge when I wasn't even eleven!"

   "Talking of backache, how's the ScatBra, by the way?"

   "Fantastic!  I've never felt so comfortable since I started getting
gigantic!  Years and years.  If only I knew!"

   "Nobody knew.  It was only invented a couple of months ago.  It's not
too heavy?"

   "I thought so, until I got used to it.  It's harder on your feet than
your back, carrying an extra twenty pounds around in counterweight, but the
comfort more than makes up for it.  And this is the bit I like about it!"

   Corinne breathed in deeply.  These latest ScatBras were almost silent in
their adjustment.  The thing swelled to accommodate Corinne's deep
breathing, then as she reached behind her, the bra miraculously slid into
its maximum uplift mode.  My jaw dropped open as the best part of ninety
inches of Corinne jutted out horizontally in front of her.  No, I tell a
lie, it was above the horizontal.  Standing there like that, in just her
bile green Scatbra and chrome yellow silk knickers, her hair down and
flowing down around her waist, I wanted to eat her alive.

   "Wow!" She lowered them down a few degrees.  "I can only stand that for
just so long!"

   I surreptitiously mopped up the leakage where my panties would have been
had I been wearing any.

   "Cee's weally sowwy she made you come, Shannie!" Corinne didn't miss
much, it seemed.  She sidled over to me.  "I'd invite you to bed, but there
isn't one!" We gazed into each other's eyes for an hour or two.

   "It will be here by tonight," I managed to say at last.  "I checked with
the shop, the van is on its rounds already." Everything else was ready for
the new bed in Corinne's room: a new double-sized duvet, with a floral
cover, pure silk sheets - Corinne had insisted on silk - and big fluffy
pillows.  We seemed assured of a perfect night's rest.  Not!

   The phone rang.

   "Corinne Meadowlark, hello?" I gazed helplessly at her as she listened
to the voice at the other end.  She was studying the back of her hand, she
brushed a little fluff off her left breast, she tucked her hair behind her
ear, scratched her nose, bit her lip, then caught sight of me watching her
and grinned a special grin.  She turned a little bit pink.  Here we go
again, I thought, as Mr Spleen got busy.  "Right!" she said, briskly. 
"I'll be right down and let them in!" She put the phone down.

   "The bed's arrived.  They're at the front doors and Jeremy's letting
them in.  I'll go down and ..."

   "Like that?  You want to get ravished?"

   "Hmmm.  Nice thought.  Perhaps not, though.  Could you go, Shan?  You're
slightly more decent than me."

   I suppose I was, although I was wearing nothing but a giant specially
made T-shirt.  Not even a bra!  I was just as likely to cause instant
ejaculations among furniture delivery men as Corinne, looking the way I
did. Which seemed as good a reason to go as any.  The effect, as expected,
was devastating.  Two men, or a middle-aged man and a youth, had brought
the bed into the lobby when I appeared.  "Fuckin' 'ell," said the man
faintly, and the youth grabbed at his groin.  Better, I thought, than
grabbing at mine.  I don't know, though.

   "Would you like to follow me?  It's upstairs!" Perhaps a mistake, I
realised as the front door was open, allowing a cool breeze to come in.  It
had a two-fold effect.  First, my nipples sprang to instant, pointy
erection.  And second, as I mounted the stairs, the breeze insinuated
itself under my T-shirt and brought the whole of Lower Chauntaille
Gruntworthy into the public domain.

   I heard a crash and turned round.  The bed was back at the foot of the
stairs, and the boy was underneath it.  The man was half sitting, half
lying, clutching his chest and giving off grunting noises.  I ventured back
downstairs.

   "I hope you haven't broken that.  What happened?"

   The boy filled in the events leading up to the present time.  "Jack was
at the back, and the wind blew your skirt ...  your ...  thing ..."

   "It's a T-shirt!" I showed him, holding my arms out to the sides and
giving a cautious twirl, perhaps an unwise move, certainly without a bra.
The shirt billowed up, and the business end of one breast gollopped out
into the fresh air.  Fresh moans came from the floor.

   "Anyway," the boy continued, holding himself intimately, "he saw your
... your ...  underneath your ..."

   "My T-shirt."

   "No, your hairy bits.  And he had one of his turns.  He has them when he
gets a shock."

   "Oh, the poor man." I went over to give him my attention, perhaps some
mouth-to-mouth, but he had passed out completely.  Pity, really, he wasn't
bad looking considering he was about forty.  The youth had extricated
himself from the fallen bed by now, and stood up.  He was wearing tight
jeans, I noticed, and he dressed on the right, unusually in my experience.

   "Is everything all right?" Corinne had appeared at the top of the
stairs. She leaned over, dressed in a denim work-shirt that would have
looked quite boring on a man.  She had so far neglected to put her jeans
on.

   "Fuck me, another of the fuckers!" whispered the boy.  "Can I get a
glass of water?  Jack's got some tablets he has to take when he passes
out."

   I fetched him a glass from the toilets, taking the opportunity to put my
breast away.  The boy drained it in one gulp.  "Thanks, I needed that.  Can
Jack have one as well, please?" I got him another, and he bent over his
lifeless colleague.  "He's still alive," he reported sadly.

   "You look after him, my friend and I can take this thing upstairs." I
waved to Corinne to come down, and we womanhandled it to the top of the
stairs without too many disasters, although the boy spent more time
watching us than her did reviving his workmate.  At last, we heaved the bed
into Corinne's room and returned downstairs, adjusting our dress to some
semblance of decency.

   "Do we have to sign for anything?" I asked the boy.  He rooted around in
the man's pockets and came up with a bundle of papers.

   "Just there, thanks."

   "Thanks.  Can you manage, or shall we call an ambulance?"

   "Yes please, it might be best."

   So we did, calling 999 from Corinne's room.

   "Did you see that disgusting slob," she said with a horrified
expression. "He was practically raping us."

   "Oh, I don't know.  It would have taken him ten minutes to get his jeans
off with the erection he had."

   "They're all the same, boys!"

   Most of them are, I thought, but that one certainly wasn't.  Corinne
can't have known all that many of them!



   **********

   Fortunately, we had the instructions for assembling the bed, putting the
ends and the legs on.  It looked most inviting with its pillows and bed
covers in place.  Especially the silk sheets.  I'd not been too sure about
silk sheets, but Corinne was undoubtedly right.  They felt so cold when we
stripped off and had a trial run that we instantly hugged each other to get
thawed out, and one thing very nearly led to another.

   Downstairs, the ambulance came and went, disturbing us only briefly,
although we were pleased to hear that the driver didn't use his siren as he
drove slowly away.  Most thoughtful.



   **********

   "What are you doing, Suze?  It's most offputting, you know."

   "I'm sucking my tit, what's it look like?"

   "That's what it looks like.  But you mustn't, it's horrible."

   "No law against it, Pan.  'Sides, it feels nice!"

   "I bet there is a law against it.  A St Cat's School Rule."

   "Go on, then.  Show me a St Cat's School Rule that says Junior girls
mustn't suck their tits ..." Her nipple escaped, and bounced away,
glistening with wet.  "Anyway, I've stopped now," she said, more
distinctly.

   "Put it away, Suze," Pansy entreated.  "Anyone might come in.  We
shouldn't really be in here after school, and if we get caught, you having
your bloody great boobies hanging out won't help."

   "That's why I've got them hanging out.  It feels as though we're
committing a major crime.  Anyway, hurry up with that mixture, it's getting
cold in here." Suzanne inspected her nipple with interest.  It seemed to be
growing.  "Golly!" she said.

   "Nearly done.  Just got to pour it into the bottle." Pansy concentrated
hard, and Suzanne stuck her tongue out to help her.  "There!" They both
breathed again.

   "You'd better label this one, we don't want any mistakes.  It's just
Feel-Good Mixture."

   "How are we going to spray Miss Meadowlark with it?  We can't just walk
up to her like we did to your Mum as she comes out of the bathroom.  Do you
reckon she's as big as your Mum?"

   "We could hang around the teachers' rooms and catch her when she comes
out to go to the loo.  And no-one's as big as my Mum!"

   "Except Miss Gruntworthy, and the Countess, and Shona, and half the
Sixth Form, and Clarrie, and Baps and Cassie.  Especially Cassie, 'cos
she's no age at all."

   "She can't be no age at all, unless she hadn't been born yet."

   "I know, but that's what they all say about her.  She's joining St Cat's
after Summer holidays.  She'll be in the Firsts and we'll be in the
Seconds!"

   "We can still talk to her, though," Suzanne said anxiously.  "She is our
friend even if she's not as old as us."

   "Oh, all right then.  It's not the done thing, but I suppose we could.
In secret." Pansy stopped, and a smile slowly spread across her face.

   "What's up with you, Pan, you got wind?"

   "No, I was thinking.  I had an idea.  We don't need to spray Miss
Meadowlark at all!"

   "I thought that was the whole idea of this operation, cousin."

   "No.  The idea was to cover Miss Meadowlark with this stuff, not to
spray her with it.  All we need to do is to make sure she pours it all over
herself."

   "Oh, right.  Will you ask her?  Or shall I?"

   "Neither of us.  We're going to put it in her shampoo bottle."

   Suzanne stared at Pansy and slowly offered her a high five.  "You're not
such a dumbo as everyone says, you know!"

   "Who says I'm a dumbo?  Who says ...?"

   "Never mind, I'll give you a list of names later.  It's a brilliant
idea, young Pansy!  Now screw the top on that bottle, and let's get out of
here." Suzanne piled her breasts back into her blouse and began fastening a
few buttons.

   Pansy secured the cap on the Feel-Good bottle.  "You should have worn
your bra.  If that lot gets loose you'll get a detention."

   "You're a scaredy-cat, you know that?"



   **********

   "What are you doing, Shan?  It's most offputting, you know."

   "I'm sucking my tit, what's it look like?"

   "But why?  You could be sucking one of mine.  And Cee's nipples are
twice as big as Shannie's!"

   "And the rest!  Four times or nothing.  But I'll be coming to yours in a
minute.  I got some dust on mine while I was picking my panties up.  Smegs
will want those, for sure.  They're an excellent example of pure Type A." I
wiped my nipple and lowered the whole thing down to its fullest extent.

   "I can't believe you, Shan."

   "I can't believe you, Cee!"

   "Come to bed, then.  We've got some heavy cuddling to do."

   "It's only seven o' clock, darling!"

   "That's true." She looked at the clock, then turned it to face the wall.
"You don't want to, then?"

   I went over and sat on the edge of the bed.  Corinne was sitting up,
surrounded by pillows, brushing her hair.  "May I do that for you?" I
asked, with a lump in my throat.  Her face lit up and she handed me the
brush.  "Lean forward," I told her, and she obeyed, her hair falling evenly
from the crown of her head, covering her face and cascading over her
breasts.  I brushed in long slow strokes, and she made little sensuous
sounds of rapture.  Finally, I parted it from across her face and she
looked out at me.  "PeekaBOO!" I touched her on the end of her nose and
felt her shudder.  "Ooops!" I said, half to myself.  Erogenous!

   When I bent my head to touch her on the lips, her mouth opened softly
against mine.  "Let's cuddle!  Please, Shannie!" I felt the words rather
than hearing them.  Her shoulders and neck felt so much softer tonight, not
tense at all.  She inclined her head to the side when I caressed the soft
skin, and the fuzzy roots of her hair at the nape of her neck.  She gave a
soft squeak of pleasure, like a happy rabbit.

   "Every time I look at your breasts, they seem bigger," I said.  "You're
sure they're not growing?"

   "They'd better not be!" she looked down at where the back of my hand was
gently tracing the soft, plump curve of the outside of her right breast. 
"They do look big, though!"

   "They must be nearly as big as mine."

   "C'mon, Shannie.  You're thirty inches bigger than me.  Forty even!"

   "You know how mine dangle, Cee.  Yours are so much fuller.  I could look
at them for hours."

   Corinne turned the clock round to face us again.  "Go on, then!  I've
got the time, if you have."

   "Wouldn't you rather make love?" I fretted.

   "But this *is* making love!" She laughed huskily.  "I'm almost beginning
to think you're a man in disguise.  Ten seconds of foreplay, two minutes of
action, then it's thank you and goodnight."

   I tried to think of any men I had met that answered that description. 
All of them, I decided, at some stage in their career.  "At least I say
thank you," I muttered.

   Corinne half turned towards me, and I felt the weight and fullness of
her mighty breasts as they rested against the upper halves of mine.  "It's
a pretty good disguise, though," she whispered wetly and noisily in my ear.

   Perhaps I am a man, after all, I thought, reaching for the box of
Kleenex beside the bed.

   "Oh, Shannie!  You haven't christened these silk sheets in our first
twenty minutes, have you?  Whatever am I going to do with you?"

   "You could try a cuddle, for a start.  I'm all wet and cold.  I warned
you about silk sheets."

   "Come here then, little wet girl.  Cuddle up to Cee and get warm. 
Golly, you *are* wet, aren't you!"









   Part XI









   Chapter 31:- Feeling Better



   "Sit down, all of you." We perched ourselves on the row of four chairs
ranged in front of Moggie's desk.  "As you are our four full-time teachers,
I've decided to call a meeting to discuss a few matters to do with the
running of the school.  I won't detain you long." We settled in our chairs,
ready for a lengthy stay.  Corinne sat on my left, with Miss Rhys ap
Llewelyn Owen beyond her, while Smegs was on my right, at a fractionally
greater distance from me than always used to be the case.  Moggie seemed to
notice our separation.

   "Chauntaille, how are you settling in with Corinne, your new double bed
all right?" Moggie can be so considerate, at times: so diplomatic.

   "Yes, thank you, Miss.  Very comfortable." Corinne nodded her agreement
and rested her little hand on my thigh, just above the hem of the skirt.  I
parted my legs a little and she left her hand where it was.  It seemed to
me a perfectly reasonable place to leave it.

   "Remember to turn off the heating in your old room if you're not using
it, Chauntaille, save the planet, remember!"

   "Yes, Miss," I said glumly.  My old room was more like a fridge than
ever, even with the heating turned fully on.

   "And you, Corinne?  Settling in okay?"

   "Thank you, Miss Thunderbolt."

   "Good.  Now then.  A few more items ...  er ...  Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn
Owen, what are you doing, please?"

   Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen had stood up, unsteadily, and was rubbing the
juncture of her thighs against the corner of Moggie's leather-topped desk.
Her eyes were glazed and staring; she was emitting low moans.

   "She's masturbating, Miss," said Smegs helpfully.

   "I can fucking well *see* that," squeaked Moggie.  "Why's she doing it
in here?"

   "She'll be finished in a minute, why not ask her then?"

   We sat and talked amongst ourselves for a while, about last night's
television, school meals, the local bus service, the fortunes of the
England Rugby team.  Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen was apparently and
embarrassingly multi-orgasmic.  Moggie looked at her watch and coughed
politely.  "Can you interrupt her; next time, Corinne, please?"

   Corinne looked sheepish, but placed a cautious hand on Miss Rhys ap
Llewelyn Owen's buttock during a brief lull in proceedings.  The
choir-mistress looked round at her in annoyance.  "What is it?" she
demanded, irritably.

   "I wonder if you'd mind, Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen," Moggie said with
sweet reasonableness.  "But we're holding a meeting here.  We don't really
have time for wanking.  You ought have done that before school hours, you
know."

   "I did," Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen informed her, "Four times.  No,
five, if you count the once in bed while I was still asleep."

   "Don't you think that's a little too frequently?"

   "She *is* the Wanking Mistress, Miss," said Smegs.

   "That doesn't mean she has to do it all the time, Megan.  Look ...  stop
her Corinne, she's at it again." Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen was restrained
and sat down, panting raggedly.  Moggie hurried on.  "How about you, Megan?
Getting plenty of action?"

   "Ooooh, yes, Miss!  My bed's getting a real workout.  I'm sleeping with
the Lower Sixths."

   "What, all of them?"

   "No, only about six.  I had to get rid of the Countess because she
insisted on bringing her wheelbarrow into the bedroom.  There really isn't
room.  It's bad enough having it off with six girls with an average bust
measurement of a hundred inches, let alone having to share the room with
their personal transport systems."

   Despite myself, I was becoming excited by the thought.  Corinne sensed
my increasing arousal somehow - she was highly sensitive to such things -
and gripped the soft flesh of my inner thigh, her nails digging in.  Smegs
had gone on to describe last night's escapade, which had involved what
seemed to have been several gallons of baby oil.  I was starting to pant.
My face felt hot.  Corinne's fingers probed higher, above the hemline, into
the loose leg of my knickers.  She pushed the crotch-piece to one side and
traced the line of my moistening slit with a practised finger.  Moggie
watched, leaning forward in her chair and propping her chin in her hands.
She nodded in appreciation of Corinne's technique.  My busty lover was
working entirely by feel.

   I came, shudderingly and not at all quietly.

   Smegs stopped talking and placed her left hand tenderly on my right
thigh.

   Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen glanced across at me as if considering an
action for breach of copyright.

   Moggie clapped politely like a spectator at a Lawn Tennis match at the
vicarage.

   Corinne received a brimming handful of bodily fluids.

   "Don't waste that lot," Smegs said sharply.

   "I wasn't going to," Corinne said.  With her gaze fixed firmly on
Smegs's face, she raised her dripping hand to her lips, and lapped at it
like a contented cat.

   "Bloody hell!" said Moggie.  "Shan, does she always drink that stuff?"

   "She says it makes her boobs grow," I told her, recovering my power of
speech.

   "It certainly seems to be working!" Moggie tried hard to remember the
next topic on the agenda.  "Where were we?" she admitted defeat at last.

   "I was describing last night," said Smegs, with relish, and I started
moaning again, despite my best intentions.

   "We'd better leave that subject for later," said Moggie, hurrying on. 
"Now, International Students."

   "What about them?"

   "Do we need some more?  They are a valuable source of funds.  Now, we
have two at the moment.  Demi Pamplemousse and Isabella Warnick-de Weiss.
How are they progressing, anybody?"

   "Demi is getting even hairier," I reported.

   "Isabella's getting fatter," announced Corinne.

   "I rather meant their academic achievements, actually.  Although it's
interesting about Demi.  Does she have hairs on the inside of her thighs
and her calves?"

   "Oooh, yes.  She's like an animal.  As for her crotch, well, she's
getting to look like she's got a black cat tucked in her drawers."

   "Lucky, some might say."

   "And her armpits, " Smegs reminded us.  "She's regularly late for
classes because she says she has give each armpit one hundred strokes of
the brush every morning."

   "Hmmm.  How about the Belgian slag?  What's she weigh now?"

   "She broke the scales," said Corinne.

   "More fucking expense," complained Moggie.  "What did they go up to?"

   "Twenty stones.  But she's more than that now, that was last week."

   "God, she must be eating St Cat's out of house and home.  Is there
nothing we can do?"

   "Not really," I said.  "If she's gaining several pounds a day, she's
likely to carry on growing faster and faster.  It's a hormonal thing,
probably."

   "Can't we expel her?" Smegs wrinkled her nose.  "She's just an
overweight slob."

   "Megan!" Moggie reproved her.  She's a European!  And she brings in
thousands of pounds profit every year."

   "Yeah, but she eats most of it.  We can't even sell her panties."

   Moggie looked up sharply.  "Why not?"

   "No demand.  They sent the last lot back.  Everything over fifty inches
- rejected!"

   "You heard that, Shan," said Moggie.  "Bear that in mind.  At the rate
you're sticking weight on, you'll be rejected soon.  What are your hips up
to now, thirty-eight?"

   "Thirty-nine, Miss," I confessed, going deep red.  An embarrassed,
ashamed silence fell on the meeting.

   "Shan, that's utterly dreadful!" Moggie said at last.  "Only five months
ago you were thirty four.  What about your waist?"

   "Twenty-nine."

   "Seven inches.  Oh, Chauntaille!"

   "Scandalous!" agreed Smegs.

   "Disgusting!" said Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen.

   "Shameful!" said Corinne, unnecessarily, I thought.

   I began to cry.



   **********

   "Did you manage to do it, Suze?"

   "Yeah.  Piece of piss.  They were making so much noise, I could have
gone in there on a motorbike and they wouldn't have noticed."

   "What were they doing?"

   "I don't know.  But I heard Miss Meadowlark shouting for somebody to
fuck her, and Miss Gruntworthy joined in as well, so they must have had
Jeremy or somebody in there with them.  I thought of having a look, but I
didn't want to be rude."

   "You're not usually all that bothered by being rude.  You're probably
the rudest girl I know!"

   "Gosh, thank you, Pan!" Suzanne gave her cousin an affectionate squeeze.

   "How will we know when she's used it?" Pansy freed herself with an
expression of distaste and readjusted the left half of her bosom, which
seemed to have escaped out of the bottom of one of her bra cups.

   "We'll just watch her every day and see if she looks particularly happy
all of a sudden."

   "Happy?  But she's a teacher, Suze!"

   "Well, she sounded pretty happy in bed last night.  Even teachers laugh
sometimes."

   "What about?" Pansy wondered.



   **********

   I came out of my bedroom, through the kitchen area, wrapped fairly
ineffectively in a giant beach towel.  Corinne stared at me, sitting up in
bed.  "Ah, you're awake.  Can I borrow your shampoo, Cee?  Mine's run out."

   "I wondered where you'd gone.  I woke up and there you weren't.  Thought
it was something I'd said."

   "No, I didn't want to disturb you, you looked so beautiful and peaceful
lying there, I decided to let you have another five minutes.  I thought I'd
wash my hair." I raked at it with my claws for a while.

   "I think mine's nearly all gone as well.  It was on the shelf in the
kitchen.  There was just about enough for one go."

   "We'd better share it, then!" I poked around on the shelf and found the
bottle.  "Is this yours?" I took it through and showed it to her.  "It's
full.  Well, nearly." It was, too.  The bottle was full almost to the top.
"My offer still stands, though!" I gave her what was probably a wolfish
grin.  "I could scrub your back."

   Corinne was out of bed with almost indecent haste, most unbecoming in a
young lady.  "I'm ready," she said, grabbing a towel and winding it round
her waist, the weight of her breasts holding it in position.  Mr Spleen was
up and about early this morning, I thought.

   The showers in the staff accommodation were quite palatial, compared to
the size of the bedrooms.  Each cubicle was fully four feet square with a
plastic curtain closing off the opening.  The shower heads gave out a
thick, powerful spray of plentiful hot water.  They would have been quite
effective for removing winter road grime from the chassis of cars.

   Four feet square or not, the cubicle was a tight fit with both Corinne
and me in there.  One assumed the designer made each of the cubicles big
enough for two women, but failed to take into account that they might be
sharing eighteen feet of bust between them.  But then, that's designers for
you, a total lack of forethought.

   "Let me do your back!" I dumped the endlessly long wet tresses of her
hair over her shoulder and felt the powerful back muscles beneath the skin.
Hardly an ounce of fat on her anywhere.  So soft, her skin, with the gentle
foaming action of the suds.  Or was that something else, like washing up
liquid?

   "What have you stopped for?"

   "Sorry!" I began smoothing the lather up and down her back again,
massaging her shoulders - still indented with the impression of the bra
straps - the wings of her shoulder blades.  "I was thinking about
something."

   "Good.  So was I!"

   "What were *you* thinking about?"

   "I was wondering when you were going to get round to the front."

   "I thought I was the impatient one!  You can wait." Corinne's firm
little bottom, the crests of the hip-bones ...  she made room for my hand
to attend to her inner thighs, but I was too occupied with the taut cheeks.

   "C'mon, Shan, please!"

   "In a minute.  God, you're so tiny round the middle!" My hands slipped
round the sides of her waist, slithery, slickery-wet, darting round to the
front, feeling my hands trapped beneath Corinne's hugely full and heavy
breasts.

   "Shan!"

   "Wait, Cee!" I moved closer behind her, feeling my breasts squash
soapily against the backs of her thighs.  She wiggled her hips and buttocks
against me and I had to bite my lip or I'd have screamed.  Those breasts!
They seemed to go on and on for ever.  They moved massively, swinging
together like great shiny slippery ...  oh, I don't know what they were
like ...  breasts, I suppose, but like no others.  I had to bend slightly
to reach the nipples and found them already erect, almost trying to push
their way through the palms of my hands.  Corinne decided she'd had enough
of waiting.

   She turned to face me, and I felt her breast as it slid across my chubby
belly, and since Corinne was shorter than me, the nipple was perfectly
placed to flick itself across the top of my streaming slit.  We were made
for each other.  More soap, down the front of Corinne's chest, between the
mountainously heavy breasts, which she squeezed playfully together to trap
my hands.

   Then she wasn't squashing her boobs together any more, her hands were
elsewhere.  I felt them on my shamefully heavy rump, pulling me closer
until we were practically inside one another.  They were around my waist, I
felt her explore my newly-acquired love-handles.  Love-handles, ME!

   Corinne reached her face up and whispered in my ear above the rushing of
the steamy waters.  "Shan, please, I can't wait any ..."

   "Who the bloody hell's in there?"

   No, not Smegs!

   The curtain was twitched aside.  Smegs stood there, stark bollock naked,
a towel in her hand; peering through the steam.  "Can't you confine your
*love-making*" - she spat out the word - "to the bedroom, ladies?  If any
of my Sixth Form girls came in, they wouldn't know what to think."









   Chapter 32:- Chemical Solution



   Corinne and I had no time to ponder on our discovery by Smegs in the
shower.  We had rinsed off the soap suds and trailed back to our room,
subdued and deeply frustrated.  We could hardly summon up the enthusiasm
for more than half an hour of fondling before Moggie's latest emergency
summit meeting in her office.

   "Sorry we're late.  My zipper stuck," I said, magnanimously taking the
blame.  Smegs gave a snort, an unpleasant sound.

   "Sit down, both of you.  Tuck yourself in, Corinne, please," said Moggie
sternly, in no mood for young lovers this morning.  "Emergency meeting! 
Won't detain you long."

   We settled down again for the duration.  Smegs, surprisingly, produced a
carrier bag and started handing round currant buns and assorted fancies.  A
free discussion broke out concerning the relative merits of hot cross buns
from various retail outlets.  Moggie brought us back to reality, rapping on
her desk with a heavy glass ashtray.  Strange, I'd have thought it would
have been stronger than that.  Maybe it already had a crack in it.

   We picked up most of the pieces and wrapped Corinne's silk panties round
Moggie's bleeding hand.

   "Are these real silk, Corinne?"

   "Yes Miss Thunderbolt, all mine are real silk."

   "Are they?  Very nice ...!" Moggie had raised her hand to her nose and
was sniffing appreciatively.  She remembered herself.  "Emergency meeting.
Some of this concerns the Support and Mobility Mistress."

   Corinne sat up straight in her chair.  She had produced a notepad from
somewhere and looked instantly so capable and efficient that I felt my
loins melt instantly.

   "Have your loins just melted, Chauntaille?" Moggie accused me.

   "Yes, Miss.  Sorry, Miss!"

   "Mop it up before you leave, it's getting like a fish market in here. 
Now, Corinne, Support and Mobility.  One of the girls came to me with a
problem which is in your domain.  She has one breast larger than the
other."

   "Gosh, Miss!" I said, "which one's that?"

   "Which girl, or which breast?"

   "Both.  Which girl?  And which breast, too?"

   "That information is confidential, I'm afraid.  It is Amelia Murgatroyd,
44-25-35, from the Fifth Form.  She came to me, tearful and distraught."

   "Did she show them to you," said Smegs, eagerly.

   "Eventually.  I had to persuade her.  It is a most distressing
condition."

   We all nodded in agreement, except Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, whose
hands were busy with something in her underwear.

   "So you reasoned with her, and she showed you her distressing
condition?"

   "Exactly.  I told her if she didn't get her gear off in ten seconds, she
was in detention for a month."

   We all sat back happily.  That's the way, Moggie, show the bastards
who's boss.

   "What were they like?" We all sat forward again, tongues moistening
lips.

   "Her right one is probably two or three cup sizes larger than the left.
She had written to her mother, who saw her doctor, and they agreed she
needed surgery."

   "But surely reduction is unwise for a growing girl?  What if it grew
again?" Corinne obviously knew about such things.

   "Who's talking about reduction?  Do you think that's what her mother and
the doctor meant?" Moggie looked flabbergasted.  "I just automatically
assumed they were going to make the left one bigger."

   So had I.

   Can't the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group help here?" I suggested. 
"They could give her left one a limited dose of boob spray.  A couple of
days and Amelia will be right as ninepence!"

   Murmurs of assent broke out.

   Moggie looked relieved.  "Well, that seems to be settled then.  Shan,
will you tie up closely with Corinne on this one, please?  Work together."
It sounded all right to me, and I felt Corinne's hand grasp mine softly,
somewhere between my upper thighs.

   Smegs snorted and said "Huh!" or something like that.

   "What was that, Megan?" Moggie looked sharply at her.  "Are you doubting
the ability of Chauntaille, Corinne and the First Form Sexual Chemistry
Group to reach a satisfactory conclusion on this case?"

   "No, I'm sure they will achieve total satisfaction," grunted Smegs. 
She's getting so bitter these days.



   **********

   We emerged from the meeting hand in hand.

   "Do your breasts feel funny, Shan?"

   "What do you mean, funny?" There's nothing funny about a ten foot bust.
She should have known that, having the best part of seven and a half feet
herself.

   "Tight?  Full?  Tingly?  Heavy?"

   "Of course," I said.  "They always do."

   "Is you bra sort of tight?"

   I felt around its edges.  "Yep," I confirmed.  "Tight as a drum."

   "Not more tight than usual?"

   I tried to grasp this improbable concept.  "No.  Is yours?"

   "Oooh, yes!  It feels as if it's shrunk in the wash."

   "The ScatBra, manufactured as it is of the most up-to-the-second
high-technology aerospace-developed cost-effective cutting-edge materials,
does not shrink in the wash."

   "I know.  That's why I'm a bit worried.  I mean, it's not as if it's
painful or anything, in fact it feels great!  It's just ...  well ... 
tight!  Shannie!  Do you think we ought to go back to the room and have a
look at it?"

   I was unable to find any fault with this idea, although I tried hard for
several milliseconds.

   "You don't have to drag me there, Shan, I'm going as fast as I can!"

   Strange girl, Corinne.  I could have sworn *she* was dragging *me*!



   **********

   "We'll see the results this morning, Pan!  We've got old Titlark for
Bras n' Barrows after the break."

   "You shouldn't call her that, Suze.  It's Miss Meadowlark."

   "Jeez, what's up with you all of a sudden?  You called her Titlark
yourself yesterday."

   "I dunno.  She's nice.  I was thinking it might be better to call her by
her real name, that's all."

   "Course she's nice.  She's the best teacher of the lot.  Nearly as good
as Miss Gruntworthy, but we can still call her Titlark.  It's a pretty
name. I bet she'd like it herself."

   "Maybe.  It's only ...  I hope we haven't done anything wrong, with the
chemicals, I mean.  She'll have been soaked in the stuff, after all.  If
anything did go wrong ...  it would be horrible!"

   "It will be all right, Pan!  We tested it, didn't we?  You getting cold
feet or something?  When did any of our special mixtures ever fail to
work?"



   **********

   "Gosh, it's so tight.  I can hardly breathe!  Are you sure it can't have
shrunk, Shan?"

   "It must be stuck.  Maybe the adjustment is stuck or something.  Let me
get the thing undone ...  there!"

   "Oof!  Bloody hell, that's better.  Ouch!  Fuck me, look at them!"

   "I see what you mean, Cee.  You seem to have grown a bit." I ran my
hands around the smooth taut curves of her breasts.  They felt like
over-inflated basketballs.  They quivered slightly, but not as much as they
ought to.  "Do they feel all right?"

   "Funny thing.  They don't hurt at all, now the bra's off.  They feel
fantastic, in fact.  I mean, I know they're bigger just by looking at them,
but they're not uncomfortable.  Does that make sense?"

   "Well, you're going to need a bigger bra, for a start.  That one's
useless, it's cutting you in half.  No wonder it felt tight.  Has this
happened before?"

   "You've got to be joking, Shan.  It's never stopped happening, not since
I was ten!  But it never happened this fast before, like overnight.  I must
be six inches bigger!"

   "Would you like me to check?  Just for our own personal satisfaction, I
mean?"

   "No time, Shan.  I've got a class after the break.  The kids, for
Primary Bra Fitting: Phase I."

   "That's a laugh, with that lot.  Shona, Phase I!"

   "They're sweet, those Juniors.  They always ask the loveliest little
questions.  Like, 'if I get to be as big as you, Miss, how can I persuade
them not to make me get them reduced?' This was a little flat-chested kid,
and she's expecting to be as big as me one day!"

   "If she's at St Cat's, anything might happen to her.  Anyway, you won't
let me measure you.  Is that what you're saying?"

   "Later, Shannie!  I'd love nothing more, you know that." She snuggled
closer and I felt better.  Her breasts felt red hot against my naked chest.
I should have mentioned, I had been taking all my clothes off while she had
been telling me about the Juniors asking questions.  "Golly, Shan, you talk
about *me* growing.  What about your nipples?"

   "What about them?" I hate it when people say things like that.  As if I
could even see my nipples, let alone hold a reasonable and sensible
discussion about the things.

   "They're all puffy.  Look!"

   "It's no good.  You're going to have to describe them to me."

   "Well," Corinne said carefully, touching my left nipple with what felt
like a moistened finger.  "Your nipple itself is bigger than usual.  You
know how they're only a quarter the size of mine?"

   "Yes, Corinne," I responded a little acidly.

   "Well, I'd say it's only about a third as big now.  Even with mine fully
erect.  So yours are bigger than I've ever seen them!" Well, that was
promising news, anyway.  "And your areolae." I felt her finger nail trace
the periphery of one of them and gave an involuntary jump.

   "It's sensitive," I said, wonderingly.

   "So it ought to be, the way it's puffed up.  Honestly, if you could see
these things ...!  It's the way a young girl's nipples look when she's
growing, as if her breasts still have to catch up with the rest."

   "Oh, no!"

   "Oh, yes!" She gave my breast a friendly little pat.  "Put them away,
love.  I've got to go to class." She picked up her discarded bra.  "This is
going to kill me!"

   "Here, wait.  Try mine." I took it off the bed and offered it to her. 
She bit her lip and blushed.

   "I can't wear this, it's vast!"

   "It's adjustable.  Come on.  No time to fuck around.  Get your pumpkins
in here.  We'll get you a proper one later."

   It fitted frighteningly well.  Corinne's new figure was staggering.  She
couldn't fasten any of the buttons on her silk shirt, unfortunately, so we
took it off her with regret and she had to wear one of mine.  It was a bit
loose, but not much.  I wanted her badly.

   "Later, darling," she patted my cheek with a soft hand.  "See you later.
You'd better get dressed before you catch a cold on your chest."

   It was only when she had gone, and I had watched her from the window, an
unlikely figure crossing the quad followed by disbelieving eyes, that I
realised she had gone off with all my clean clothes.  Everything else was
in the laundry.  Almost everything else.

   Feeling conspicuously under-dressed, I dropped in on my Fourth Form
Relationships class wearing only a pair of beach shorts and an
extra-extra-large T-shirt.  No bra of course, and those shorts had even
been a snug fit before I added five inches to my hips and seven to my
waist.

   The girls were very good about it really, when I broke down in tears and
explained that all my clothes were in the laundry and this was all I had.
They rallied round, offering sundry items of only slightly moist and soiled
clothing.  At the end of it all, I was slightly more presentable below the
waist, and the one girl whose skirt had fitted me more or less perfectly
was so thrilled to have been of such help to her teacher that she scarcely
noticed when the class broke up for lunch and she accompanied her
classmates into the restaurant completely naked from the waist down.

   Being such polite, well brought-up girls, of course, the schoolgirls of
St Cat's pretended not to notice.

   And I, with my confidence and self-esteem restored to its high-water
mark, accepted the good-natured howls and cat-calls of the entire school as
I wobbled and jiggled in to lunch with one of the shortest skirts even St
Cat's had ever seen.  It was as well I couldn't see my nipples, really, or
I would have almost died of shame.

   "Look at the state of you," said Smegs, unkindly, as I took my seat.

   "What's the matter?"

   "Did you dress in a hurry after your latest session of love-making.  In
case it escaped your attention, you aren't wearing a bra.  Girls with
ten-foot busts ought really to wear a bra, Shan-tail!"

   "I lent it to Corinne, she grew out of hers this morning.  And my
shirt," I added, before Smegs could mention it.  "And I got this skirt off
a Fourth Former."

   "After a brief struggle, I should imagine." She looked me up and down.
"Your nipples are sticking out obscenely," she kindly informed me.

   "So everyone keeps saying.  Can't you describe them to me?"

   "Why should I give you the pleasure of having your engorged nipples and
areolae like halved grapefruit described to you?  Like I say, they're
obscene.  What's the matter, Shan?  Not content with turning into a slut,
you're letting your body go as well."

   I wiped a tear away with the hem of my T-shirt before lowering it and
stuffing my breasts back inside it where they lay in my lap.  "You're so
rotten to me, these days, Smegs."

   Just for a moment I thought I saw a soft look come into her eyes, then
she sneered again like a human rights campaigner.  She seemed to be about
to say something, but closed her mouth again, got up from the table and
stalked out.

   I wasn't alone long.  A great communal gasp suddenly ran round the room,
and girls put down their knives and forks, craning their necks to see what
was the cause of the disturbance.  Above their heads I could see a blonde
ponytail as it bobbed along toward the serving hatch.  And as every eye in
the restaurant followed her progress, the unbelievable Corinne Meadowlark
undulated over to my table and squeezed herself into a vacant chair.

   "Hi, Shannie," she murmured softly, "your nipples are really obscene,
you know that?"







   Chapter 33:- Amelia Murgatroyd's Treatment



   There was a knock on the bedroom door.  Not Smegs again, surely.  No,
she would have pounded on the door and yelled at us.  We weren't making
that much noise anyway.  I was sitting on the floor with my mouth full of
Corinne's lightly-furred moist bits, and she was eating an orange.  So
shouting was out of the question.

   "Who is it?" Corinne said, thoughtlessly adding, "come in, the door's
not locked."

   "Aaargh!" I yelled, but there was no time to find a less compromising
position before the door opened and a girl came in.  She stopped in her
tracks, taking in the scene.

   "Amelia?" I said, rather indistinctly.

   "Yes, Miss." She looked uncertainly at me and at Corinne, both stark
naked and obviously busy.  "Should I come back later, Miss?"

   "No, no.  Take a seat.  Excuse us, we were just trying something out for
the Sixth Form Relationships class."

   "Golly!" Amelia looked impressed.  "Do we get to do this next year?" She
perched herself on the edge of the bed and watched intently, her chin in
her hands.

   I struggled to my feet with a sigh.  Sometimes I find it difficult to do
things in front of an audience, even such a well-behaved and appreciative
one as Amelia Murgatroyd.  Corinne finished her orange and stretched
extravagantly, causing Amelia's eyes to pop almost clear out of their
sockets.  She was a pretty, dark-haired girl, with what in any other
surroundings than St Cat's would be considered to be an extremely large
bust.  Here, she was just pleasantly average.

   "We heard you had a bit of a problem, Amelia," said Corinne.  "Is that
why you're here?  I should warn you, of course, that the staff domestic
area is strictly out of bounds to students."

   "Yes, I know, Miss.  Sorry, Miss, but it was very important, Miss.  And
I followed a big crowd of Sixth Form girls up the stairs.  They went round
the corner at the end of the corridor."

   "Yes," I told her, "they would have been going to Miss Mountains's room.
How many of them?"

   "Eleven, Miss."

   "Golly!" Amelia was sitting sideways on the bed, so no matter which way
we looked at her, we only got a profile view.  "Now then, what seems to be
the problem?"

   "It's my breasts, Miss," the girl said promptly and without
embarrassment.  Perhaps, in view of Corinne and my state of total nudity,
Amelia felt she was in the presence of women of the world.  She spoke
freely.  "They're two different sizes."

   "Reminds me of the woman who came from Devizes", I said, in perhaps
doubtful taste.  "Hers were two different sizes.  One, in fact, was so
small it was nothing at all, the other was large, and won prizes." I
expected an embarrassed silence and I was well rewarded.  The silence was
broken only by Amelia's sobs.

   "That's what all the girls keep chanting at me.  I can't help it if I
come from Devizes, Miss."

   One couldn't help wondering if Amelia was perhaps missing the point.

   Corinne had her arm round the girl's shoulders, offering support and
comfort.  "Get your blouse off," she said, "and let's have a look at them."
No point in beating about the bush, I supposed.

   Amelia stood up.  From a full frontal view, she was definitely
lop-sided, we could see as we bent and squinted at the girl critically. 
"Oh, yes," I said, "that one's miles bigger." The blouse came off, and
Amelia stood there in her glory.  Her bra was startlingly black and
new-looking.

   "Where did you get that?" Corinne asked her.

   "In town.  But that was before my right breast started getting too big
for it."

   Yes, well that did just about sum it up.  The right one overflowed its
cup in every imaginable way.  The left one was a nice fit.  "It's a 34J,
Miss," Amelia said over her shoulder, as I tugged at the label trying to
read the size.  "Will it hurt, Miss?"

   "Will what hurt, Amelia?"

   "The surgery, Miss.  If I have to go to hospital to get them made the
same size, will it hurt when they do it.  And afterwards?  And could I
choose how small I have them?"

   How small?  What on earth was the matter with the girl.  "It needn't
hurt at all, Amelia.  Especially if they do it here."

   "Here?  You mean I wouldn't need to go into hospital?  The doctor could
come here and do it?" She seemed brighter already.

   "I should see no reason why not.  It certainly wouldn't hurt you.  The
latest products actually feel quite pleasant." Corinne nodded vigorously
and cupped a tiny proportion of one of her breasts in both hands.

   Amelia clapped her hands together.  "Oh, goody!  When could I have it
done, Miss?  Soon?"

   "Tomorrow, I should think.  And you will have a perfectly matching pair
by the day after.  I'll see you in the Sexual Chemistry laboratory at nine
thirty tomorrow morning.  Okay?"

   "Ooooh, Miss!" Amelia reached around my neck and planted a generous kiss
on my lips.  Possibly my instinctive reaction startled her, but I did find
her gesture remarkably arousing for a moment or two.  "Miss?" she said
uncertainly, taking a pace or two backwards.

   "Yes, Amelia?"

   "Oh, nothing, Miss." A strangely seductive expression crossed her face
and she rubbed herself against my thigh like a hungry cat.  "I'd better be
going, then," she said, making no move to do so.  In fact, her hand slid
round behind me and caressed my embarrassingly plump buttock.

   "Don't forget your blouse," Corinne reminded her, practically bundling
her out of the door.

   "Oh, she's gone," I said when I opened my eyes.

   "What did you do to her?" Corinne demanded.

   "I only put my tongue a little way into her mouth.  It was only a
friendly gesture, Cee!" Corinne was speechless.  "Come here," I said.  "I
wasn't trying to get into Amelia's knickers, honestly.  You're the only one
for me, Cee, you know that."

   "Huh," she said.

   I sat on the floor again.  "Where did we get to before she came in ...?"

   But Corinne seemed not to be in the mood, for some reason.  God, she's
so changeable.



   **********

   At least, Corinne thawed out a bit before bedtime.  During the
afternoon, she had been down to see Clit and Flaps and get herself fitted
out with a brand new ScatBra.  It took a little longer than we had
anticipated.  She called me on the phone to explain.

   "Shan?  I'll be another hour.  They need to run another bra up for me,
I'm a difficult size, it seems."

   "Oh, shit, Cee.  This will screw up our evening."

   "It's all right," she said, "you can still measure me later, if you
like. Or tomorrow, it doesn't matter.  Anytime, whenever."

   "Thanks," I said.  "What size is your new one?"

   She was silent for a while, presumably while she squinted at the label.
"It seems to say 'WASH SEPARATELY'.  And SBSMXLCW6.  What a ridiculous
system!  Is that very big?"

   "XL?  Did you say XL?  That's ginormous!"

   "Oh, super!  Well, we both knew I got a bit bigger, didn't we!"

   Well, that put me in a really happy mood.  Not!  I stormed off down to
the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group and told them to get a good brew of
boob-juice ready for the morning.  "Enough for one breast ought to be
enough.  It's for Amelia Murgatroyd."

   The girls twittered around excitedly, in a flurry of laboratory
glassware and brightly coloured steam.  I stomped back to the bedroom in
the drizzling rain.  As if everything else wasn't bad enough, now my
nipples were hurting.



   **********

   "What's the deal with Amelia?" asked Pansy.

   "You've seen her," said Suzanne.  "She's got one tit bigger than the
other.  She wants them the same size.  She's tiny anyway, only about a
forty-four!"

   "So we only get to do one tit?"

   "Yeah.  Better mix plenty, though, you never know."

   "I am!  About a five-litre batch.  Tell you what, though.  If we're only
doing one side of her, wouldn't it be better if we didn't spray it on.  We
could try making it up as a cream, like we talked about."

   "Then it has to be rubbed in?  Who's going to volunteer to rub Amelia's
tits?"

   "I wouldn't mind rubbing Miss Meadowlark's," admitted Anastasia, amid
general gasps of horror.

   "Why can't we make some stuff to make tits smaller?" Shona wondered. 
Shona was having a bad tit day.  She had rolled her wheelbarrow on to its
side on some rough ground that morning, and she was still sore.  The others
looked at her in disbelief.

   "Smaller?" Suzanne said, as if she had never heard the word in her life
before.

   "Smaller.  We could rub it on her big one and make them both the same
size that way."

   The other girls ignored Shona, apart from suffering shudders of horror
at the big girl's obscene suggestion.

   "Will it be ready by morning, Pan?" said Suzanne.

   "Should be.  But we can always put some extra hardener in it if it looks
as though it's not going to set properly." She dipped a finger into the
brew and sniffed it cautiously.  A slow smile spread across her face.  "I
think this is going to be a good batch," she said.



   **********

   The First Form Sexual Chemistry Group packed away their apparatus and
waved bye-bye to the disco lad.  Anastasia toyed with the idea of giving
him a good face-sitting, but reluctantly followed her classmates in the
direction of the restaurant.

   "I'll follow you in a minute," Shona shouted, waddling back into the
lab. She quickly took a book out of the drawer, and ran her finger down the
handwritten list of ingredients for the latest boob-juice.

   Ah, here it was.  She studied the formula for a moment, then took the
gallon-sized container of boob-cream down from the shelf.  Working quickly,
she began to mix chemicals together.



   **********

   It was almost nine-thirty.  The lab was empty of students.  The First
Form Sexual Chemistry Group were with Corinne, learning about wheelbarrow
theory.  Shona, with her practical barrow experience, had been excused, and
we had asked her to come along to the lab and help administer the
boob-juice to Amelia Murgatroyd.

   Amelia sat on the edge of the bench looking nervous and lopsided, then
we heard Shona's barrow trundling down the corridor at a brisk rate.  A
mighty crash heralded her arrival outside the lab.  It was several minutes
before Shona blundered into the room, flushed and sobbing.

   "I crashed again, Miss," she whined.

   "Never mind, Shona," I said comfortingly, and to my surprise, Amelia
slid her bottom off the bench and enfolded the huge girl in her arms.  I
saw Shona's expression change from surprise, to alarm, to delight to
ecstasy as Amelia's tongue filled her mouth.  Their hands wandered
restlessly across each other's bodices.

   "Erm ...  excuse me, girls.  Could we perhaps get on?  You can make love
later if you still feel so inclined."

   "Ooooh, thank you, Miss!" said both girls feverishly.

   "Strip off, Amelia," I said, and turned away while she removed her
blouse.  Shona, I noticed, watched with fascination.  "And your bra,
please," I said.  "Now sit down, and just relax."

   "May I rub it on, Miss?" Shona pleaded.  "It's this new cream, Miss. 
Less risky than the spray."

   That was fine by me.  With Corinne's hot-and-cold behaviour I was going
off girls.  A session of rubbing the breasts of a nubile, if lopsided,
teenager was the last thing I needed.  Shona, panting with the effort, took
a gallon container down from the shelf.

   "God, you made enough of it, didn't you?  Go ahead then.  Rub it well
in!"

   Shona dived her hand into the tub and came out with a generous handful.
It was a bilious green.  She weighed the handful for a moment, before going
'sploshhhh!' with it, squarely on to Amelia's right breast.

   "Yaaaagh!" screamed Amelia.  "You could have warmed it up first!" Then
she began to smile as Shona massaged the cream into the skin.  Quickly, the
girl's breast took on a glistening sheen and she began to moan softly in
her throat.  She began to nuzzle at Shona's arm each time it came within
reach.  In no time, they were both moaning and pawing at each other.

   "Good God, you two!  Show a little decorum, please!"

   Too late, they were rolling on the floor hugging each other.  Shona was
on top, which was unfortunate for Amelia, almost smothered beneath the vast
bulk of the Junior girl's gigantic lollopers.  I wrestled them apart, and
they sat there, panting and trying to get to grips with each other again.

   "Amelia!  Shona!  NO!" They looked up at me at last and I looked from
one to the other.  Eventually, their passion faded away and they stood up
apologetically.  Amelia got dressed.

   It wasn't until she had gone back to her class that a thought occurred
to me.  "You did put that on the the right breast, Shona, didn't you?"

   "Of course, Miss!" She said it without a trace of guile or craftiness. I
gazed into her eyes.  No doubt about it.  Shona was telling the absolute
truth.



   **********

   It was lunchtime when I saw Amelia in the restaurant.  "How is it
feeling?" I asked her.

   She patted her larger breast tenderly.  "It's tingling a bit, Miss. 
Better than having them cut it off, though!"

   What did she mean by that, I thought, watching her walk away.  And a
sudden icy cold sweat came over me.  No, surely not!








   <End Part XI>